A/N: I *really* enjoyed writing this chapter! It's mostly filler stuff so
I can introduce the chapters after better, but it's really quite nice.
Fluffy at the end, with a bit of a sad old cliché (sorry, but it just had
to be done!), it's quite OOC. You have been warned.
Again, thanks for all of your reviews; they really do mean a lot to me!
***
It seemed an endlessly long night. Hermione went to bed in the end, but only to lie flat on her back, staring up at the folds in the canopy above her head. Her room was very dark and very quiet, the combination should have soothed her to sleep, it was usually enough. Instead, she found herself patiently waiting out the darkness, occasionally turning her head to look out of the window at the midnight-velvet sky with its scattering of stars. When at last the night had given way to the first pink streaks of the dawn she gave up.
Climbing back out of the barely disturbed bed, she padded to the bathroom to shower and dress, doing both completely on automatic pilot. Hermione was fully aware that her mind was elsewhere and she struggled to bring it back under her control. She knew deep down that some good had come out of the events of the previous evening; it had been more than therapeutic for her. Somehow, and out of nowhere, Severus Snape had managed to comfort her aching soul and show her the best way to proceed. She knew now what it was that she had to do.
Sitting down at her desk, she thought for a moment before picking up her quill. By the time the new day was fully fledged she was in the Owlry, sending off two letters. The first, and easiest to write, had been to Ron Weasley. The second and much more difficult letter had been sent to his sister, Ginny. Now all Hermione could do was wait. She stood watching the owls as they flew from the tower and until they disappeared from sight. A small sigh escaped her lips, and her expression became wistful; she was not foolish enough to presume that five years worth of damage could be repaired easily, but this at least was a start. Something small yet significant fluttered within her heart then. It was hope.
She made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast then, carefully storing away her feelings until she was at liberty to access them again. Hermione would be the first to admit that life went on, and while she had lessons to plan and teach there was no time for her to dwell on more personal matters. She was dedicated to teaching at Hogwarts, and determined that nothing should affect that.
She was toying with some toast and sipping coffee at the staff table by the time Severus chose to make his entrance. Dramatic as always, he strode the length of the hall, robes billowing behind him. He was barely acknowledged by the students, they were much too afraid of him, and he was not known on the staff for being a morning person, but as he approached the table his dark eyes met Hermione's enquiringly. He was quick to take in her pale skin, and dark shadows but said nothing, instead inclining his head slightly before continuing on. Hermione returned his nod with a grateful one of her own, and looked away. Her opinion of him had changed somewhat during the past twelve hours but that did not yet mean they were ready to exchange morning pleasantries, it appeared. Her smile was sudden and rueful, and Severus, sitting some way down the table, did not miss it.
The day proceeded in normal fashion for Hermione, and she greatly enjoyed teaching 'Wingardium Leviosa' to her class of combined Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years in the last lesson of the afternoon. They were a clever bunch, and most had managed to pick up the charm before the end of the lesson, she sat and watched as they confidently flicked their feathers around her classroom. The carefree memories of her own first year left her nostalgic, but she felt no sorrow in remembering. The class had been dismissed and she was walking around the classroom collecting up her feathers lost in her own little world when the gentle knock on the door startled her from her reverie. She looked up as Severus slipped into the room and closed the door behind him firmly, before turning to look at her wordlessly. Hermione wondered what his unexpected visit was for, and the silence deepened as she finished collecting the feathers and put them back into their box.
"You could have used magic to do that, you know." He spoke quietly as she perched herself on the edge of the desk and looked at him. She shrugged, and tried to hide a smile.
"It does not always come naturally for me to do so," she said, truthfully. "Does this visit have a purpose, Professor? I do have papers to mark this afternoon."
If he was taken aback by her abruptness, he did not show it.
"It does, actually," his voice was brisk. "I simply wanted to enquire . . . if you were all right?" He dropped the act mid sentence and ran a hand through his hair, forgetting that it was caught back in a small ponytail, in apparent exasperation. The result was not flattering, and Hermione failed to stifle her laughter at the look on his face as he re-tied it. He regarded her stonily.
"I am quite all right, Professor," she tilted her head to one side and all of her hair fell over one shoulder. The mid afternoon sunlight pouring in through the classroom windows highlighted the golds and reds interwoven with the brown. "Are you?"
"Me? I . . . yes, Professor. Why do you ask?" He seemed uncharacteristically flustered, and moved a few paces closer to her.
"Because *you* asked *me*." Hermione smiled. His presence in her room had in the past been quite unsettling for her, but today things seemed different. He somehow made her feel calmer, safer, she realised. It was a pleasant thought; it made her feel happier than she had felt all day.
"Oh." His dark eyes appraised her thoughtfully, regarding her unblinkingly until she was forced to look away in sudden discomfort. "May I ask you a favour, Professor Granger?"
"Of course."
"Will you walk with me? By the lake perhaps?" His request was unusual to say the least. Hermione felt that a small amount of light hearted teasing was in order.
"Walking is hardly my style, Severus," she admonished him. To her surprise, he smiled. His face seemed to change completely, making him look much younger, unencumbered by the worries of the present. Hermione liked it, she decided, and wished that he would do it more often.
"If it is all the same to you, I would rather not run."
"Of course not," Hermione slid nimbly off her desk; they walked together to the door. "The lake, you said? May I fetch my cloak first?" It was late October, and although the autumn sun was bright it was not warm. Severus nodded.
"I will wait for you by the main doors," he said and strode off towards the dungeons. Hermione warded her classroom until her return and headed in the opposite direction to her rooms. Picking up her heavy winter cloak she was about to leave again when an owl flew through one of her open windows, depositing a letter into her waiting hands.
It was from Ginny. Short and to the point, as was Ginny's style. She would like to see Hermione; would it be possible for her to visit at Hogwarts? Was the following Saturday suitable? Hermione sighed, her good mood suddenly evaporating. There was no warmth in Ginny's letter, no hope for rekindling friendship as she had hoped, but all the same Hermione wrote a quick note accepting the terms, and telling Ginny that she was looking forward to seeing her. She did not hold out much hope that Ginny felt the same way.
She was filled with trepidation she made her way to the castle's main entrance and immediately caught sight of Severus chastising some young Gryffindors for "talking too loudly in the corridors". A suitable number of points were taken and then he was standing alone in the hall. From her vantage point at the top of the main staircase Hermione suddenly thought that she could see a little of the man behind the mask. We all have our secrets, she thought. We all have our crosses to bear. What are his? Her face was solemn as she descended the staircase; they did not speak a word as he scooped her cloak out of her arms and held it up so she could put it on. They were silent as they left the castle and walked at a steady pace towards the lake side by side. She pondered for a moment the picture that they made, she in her Gryffindor red cloak, and he in Slytherin green, and then dismissed the thought upon realising that there were no students or staff around to see.
They reached the near shore of the lake and Severus came to a sudden halt. Hermione stopped next to him, looking up at him curiously. He cleared his throat, apparently nervous.
"Hermione, I was wondering if you might . . . that is, if you would . . ." he hesitated, and she began to worry that he was going to request something impossibly difficult of her. She reached out and put a reassuring hand on his arm. He looked down at it stupidly.
"Severus. Whatever it is, don't be afraid to ask."
His dark eyes, and in bright sunlight Hermione could see that they were not in fact black as she had always supposed, but instead a beautiful and rare dark violet, stared into hers and she did not look away this time. He drifted closer, until they were almost touching and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Her heart gave a sudden little lurch at his close proximity, she was aware of a sudden difficulty breathing. His pupils dilated as he looked at her, she was reasonably sure that hers were doing the same. He leaned into her, and Hermione gave no ground as the warmth of his lean body settled against hers. His behaviour should have seemed odd, she should not have welcomed his embrace as willingly as she did, but his arms went about her and she rested her head against the dark green velvet which covered his chest with a sigh. He made her feel so safe, he was so warm . . . she snuggled a little closer, wrapping her arms about him as he lowered his face into her hair. He murmured something incomprehensible, she ignored it, and he held her closer.
They stayed absolutely still for long minutes, and Hermione let herself be lulled by his comforting presence, closing her tired eyes and drifting in a place where she did not have to feel anything except the gentleness of the man who held her. He shifted against her then; she felt strong hands on her shoulders moving her slightly so that she could look up at him. The expression on his face was a curious mixture of pain and desire. Whatever it was he had intended to ask of her, it certainly wasn't this.
"I would really like . . . I really want to . . ." Severus' voice was unusually husky. He drew one, quick breath and leaned down slightly. Hermione looked from his eyes to his mouth, it was very close to hers now, and if she didn't stop this he was going to kiss her . . . but did she really want to stop this? Yes, her head told her, of course she did! But her heart . . . her heart was telling her something very different. It had been such a long time since she had shared such a tender moment with anyone, what harm could it do?
She sighed her acceptance and closed her eyes, lifting herself on to tiptoes to meet him halfway -
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"
A very loud, very familiar voice made them spring apart like guilty teenagers, and Hermione stared at its' owner in amazement.
Ron Weasley, Quidditch keeper for his beloved Chudley Cannons for the past four seasons, was standing almost right next to them wearing almost his full keeping kit. The expression on his face, an intermingling of fury and horror, did not bode well for either of them . . .
Again, thanks for all of your reviews; they really do mean a lot to me!
***
It seemed an endlessly long night. Hermione went to bed in the end, but only to lie flat on her back, staring up at the folds in the canopy above her head. Her room was very dark and very quiet, the combination should have soothed her to sleep, it was usually enough. Instead, she found herself patiently waiting out the darkness, occasionally turning her head to look out of the window at the midnight-velvet sky with its scattering of stars. When at last the night had given way to the first pink streaks of the dawn she gave up.
Climbing back out of the barely disturbed bed, she padded to the bathroom to shower and dress, doing both completely on automatic pilot. Hermione was fully aware that her mind was elsewhere and she struggled to bring it back under her control. She knew deep down that some good had come out of the events of the previous evening; it had been more than therapeutic for her. Somehow, and out of nowhere, Severus Snape had managed to comfort her aching soul and show her the best way to proceed. She knew now what it was that she had to do.
Sitting down at her desk, she thought for a moment before picking up her quill. By the time the new day was fully fledged she was in the Owlry, sending off two letters. The first, and easiest to write, had been to Ron Weasley. The second and much more difficult letter had been sent to his sister, Ginny. Now all Hermione could do was wait. She stood watching the owls as they flew from the tower and until they disappeared from sight. A small sigh escaped her lips, and her expression became wistful; she was not foolish enough to presume that five years worth of damage could be repaired easily, but this at least was a start. Something small yet significant fluttered within her heart then. It was hope.
She made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast then, carefully storing away her feelings until she was at liberty to access them again. Hermione would be the first to admit that life went on, and while she had lessons to plan and teach there was no time for her to dwell on more personal matters. She was dedicated to teaching at Hogwarts, and determined that nothing should affect that.
She was toying with some toast and sipping coffee at the staff table by the time Severus chose to make his entrance. Dramatic as always, he strode the length of the hall, robes billowing behind him. He was barely acknowledged by the students, they were much too afraid of him, and he was not known on the staff for being a morning person, but as he approached the table his dark eyes met Hermione's enquiringly. He was quick to take in her pale skin, and dark shadows but said nothing, instead inclining his head slightly before continuing on. Hermione returned his nod with a grateful one of her own, and looked away. Her opinion of him had changed somewhat during the past twelve hours but that did not yet mean they were ready to exchange morning pleasantries, it appeared. Her smile was sudden and rueful, and Severus, sitting some way down the table, did not miss it.
The day proceeded in normal fashion for Hermione, and she greatly enjoyed teaching 'Wingardium Leviosa' to her class of combined Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years in the last lesson of the afternoon. They were a clever bunch, and most had managed to pick up the charm before the end of the lesson, she sat and watched as they confidently flicked their feathers around her classroom. The carefree memories of her own first year left her nostalgic, but she felt no sorrow in remembering. The class had been dismissed and she was walking around the classroom collecting up her feathers lost in her own little world when the gentle knock on the door startled her from her reverie. She looked up as Severus slipped into the room and closed the door behind him firmly, before turning to look at her wordlessly. Hermione wondered what his unexpected visit was for, and the silence deepened as she finished collecting the feathers and put them back into their box.
"You could have used magic to do that, you know." He spoke quietly as she perched herself on the edge of the desk and looked at him. She shrugged, and tried to hide a smile.
"It does not always come naturally for me to do so," she said, truthfully. "Does this visit have a purpose, Professor? I do have papers to mark this afternoon."
If he was taken aback by her abruptness, he did not show it.
"It does, actually," his voice was brisk. "I simply wanted to enquire . . . if you were all right?" He dropped the act mid sentence and ran a hand through his hair, forgetting that it was caught back in a small ponytail, in apparent exasperation. The result was not flattering, and Hermione failed to stifle her laughter at the look on his face as he re-tied it. He regarded her stonily.
"I am quite all right, Professor," she tilted her head to one side and all of her hair fell over one shoulder. The mid afternoon sunlight pouring in through the classroom windows highlighted the golds and reds interwoven with the brown. "Are you?"
"Me? I . . . yes, Professor. Why do you ask?" He seemed uncharacteristically flustered, and moved a few paces closer to her.
"Because *you* asked *me*." Hermione smiled. His presence in her room had in the past been quite unsettling for her, but today things seemed different. He somehow made her feel calmer, safer, she realised. It was a pleasant thought; it made her feel happier than she had felt all day.
"Oh." His dark eyes appraised her thoughtfully, regarding her unblinkingly until she was forced to look away in sudden discomfort. "May I ask you a favour, Professor Granger?"
"Of course."
"Will you walk with me? By the lake perhaps?" His request was unusual to say the least. Hermione felt that a small amount of light hearted teasing was in order.
"Walking is hardly my style, Severus," she admonished him. To her surprise, he smiled. His face seemed to change completely, making him look much younger, unencumbered by the worries of the present. Hermione liked it, she decided, and wished that he would do it more often.
"If it is all the same to you, I would rather not run."
"Of course not," Hermione slid nimbly off her desk; they walked together to the door. "The lake, you said? May I fetch my cloak first?" It was late October, and although the autumn sun was bright it was not warm. Severus nodded.
"I will wait for you by the main doors," he said and strode off towards the dungeons. Hermione warded her classroom until her return and headed in the opposite direction to her rooms. Picking up her heavy winter cloak she was about to leave again when an owl flew through one of her open windows, depositing a letter into her waiting hands.
It was from Ginny. Short and to the point, as was Ginny's style. She would like to see Hermione; would it be possible for her to visit at Hogwarts? Was the following Saturday suitable? Hermione sighed, her good mood suddenly evaporating. There was no warmth in Ginny's letter, no hope for rekindling friendship as she had hoped, but all the same Hermione wrote a quick note accepting the terms, and telling Ginny that she was looking forward to seeing her. She did not hold out much hope that Ginny felt the same way.
She was filled with trepidation she made her way to the castle's main entrance and immediately caught sight of Severus chastising some young Gryffindors for "talking too loudly in the corridors". A suitable number of points were taken and then he was standing alone in the hall. From her vantage point at the top of the main staircase Hermione suddenly thought that she could see a little of the man behind the mask. We all have our secrets, she thought. We all have our crosses to bear. What are his? Her face was solemn as she descended the staircase; they did not speak a word as he scooped her cloak out of her arms and held it up so she could put it on. They were silent as they left the castle and walked at a steady pace towards the lake side by side. She pondered for a moment the picture that they made, she in her Gryffindor red cloak, and he in Slytherin green, and then dismissed the thought upon realising that there were no students or staff around to see.
They reached the near shore of the lake and Severus came to a sudden halt. Hermione stopped next to him, looking up at him curiously. He cleared his throat, apparently nervous.
"Hermione, I was wondering if you might . . . that is, if you would . . ." he hesitated, and she began to worry that he was going to request something impossibly difficult of her. She reached out and put a reassuring hand on his arm. He looked down at it stupidly.
"Severus. Whatever it is, don't be afraid to ask."
His dark eyes, and in bright sunlight Hermione could see that they were not in fact black as she had always supposed, but instead a beautiful and rare dark violet, stared into hers and she did not look away this time. He drifted closer, until they were almost touching and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Her heart gave a sudden little lurch at his close proximity, she was aware of a sudden difficulty breathing. His pupils dilated as he looked at her, she was reasonably sure that hers were doing the same. He leaned into her, and Hermione gave no ground as the warmth of his lean body settled against hers. His behaviour should have seemed odd, she should not have welcomed his embrace as willingly as she did, but his arms went about her and she rested her head against the dark green velvet which covered his chest with a sigh. He made her feel so safe, he was so warm . . . she snuggled a little closer, wrapping her arms about him as he lowered his face into her hair. He murmured something incomprehensible, she ignored it, and he held her closer.
They stayed absolutely still for long minutes, and Hermione let herself be lulled by his comforting presence, closing her tired eyes and drifting in a place where she did not have to feel anything except the gentleness of the man who held her. He shifted against her then; she felt strong hands on her shoulders moving her slightly so that she could look up at him. The expression on his face was a curious mixture of pain and desire. Whatever it was he had intended to ask of her, it certainly wasn't this.
"I would really like . . . I really want to . . ." Severus' voice was unusually husky. He drew one, quick breath and leaned down slightly. Hermione looked from his eyes to his mouth, it was very close to hers now, and if she didn't stop this he was going to kiss her . . . but did she really want to stop this? Yes, her head told her, of course she did! But her heart . . . her heart was telling her something very different. It had been such a long time since she had shared such a tender moment with anyone, what harm could it do?
She sighed her acceptance and closed her eyes, lifting herself on to tiptoes to meet him halfway -
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"
A very loud, very familiar voice made them spring apart like guilty teenagers, and Hermione stared at its' owner in amazement.
Ron Weasley, Quidditch keeper for his beloved Chudley Cannons for the past four seasons, was standing almost right next to them wearing almost his full keeping kit. The expression on his face, an intermingling of fury and horror, did not bode well for either of them . . .
