Disclaimer: Okay, lets go over it. Ask most people on the street who wrote Harry Potter, and the one thing I can guarantee you is that they won't give you my name. You know why? Cause I didn't write it. However, I have read interviews where JKR has said how flattered she is by fanfiction written about her characters. So nyah.
Um…*author looks around nervously* Okay, so no one is still reading this. All right, I don't blame you, this has taken me a really disgustingly long time to get out. I'm sorry, but real life has been really busy lately, and the muses decided to absent themselves from me completely in what little free time I did have. I'm trying to figure out where, precisely, this is going, and having a bit of a hard time doing that. So, if by some miracle, people do read this, I will try really hard not to take so long next chapter. If you want to be notified when the next chapter is, please tell me in a review, or email me at amariran@yahoo.com . Reviews are like this delicious box of truffles next to me, only for the muses, and the muses tell me what to write, so you can draw your own conclusions if you want the next chapter to come fast. Even just telling me you are there and reading is good, although I love criticism as well. And, in regards to a discussion on WIKTT where reviewers wished authors would state whether they could take criticism: I can, promise. So, go readJ
He took a moment to compose himself, and then followed swiftly after. Perhaps in more than just the physical sense.
As Hermione waited for Professor Snape to follow her, her mind wandered away from the realities of the kitchen, cheerfully lit even at night, with a small group of House Elves chatting contentedly by the warm fire in the corner. It wandered to her enigmatic companion of the day. She glanced around at the cheery room and thought how out of place he would look there. Then, as he came through the doors and stood silently with her, watching, as she did, the scene before them, she thought that perhaps he didn't look quite so odd as she would have thought.
The truth was, she didn't want to place him in little tiny labeled boxes any more, the way she did every one else. There were only a few people she was unable to do this with, but she had discovered in the past few weeks that he was one of the most complex figures she had ever met. Dumbledore was on her list, of course; bizarre and crazy and sweet and kind and an uncompromising rock of strength that was the foundation of Hogwarts much more than any piece of ground could be. Harry, too, refused to be labeled as 'friend', or 'hero'…or even 'bastard ex-boyfriend'. Every time she looked at him he had changed. And now there was Severus Snape, who was arrogant and Slytherin and an absolute arse…who had so much pain in his soul and refused to let it out anywhere where he might be found. They were not squares, and she could not contain them even in her methodical mind. It made them that much more intriguing to her; that much more worthy of exploration. Love Ron dearly she did, but there was no doubt that with Ron, what you saw, once you got to know him, was what you got. Loyal and Gryffindor, and strong and sweet, and a little bit insecure; these were absolute and uncontradictory decriptors of her best friend. Her reverie was broken by a House Elf dashing up to them from where it had been sitting by the fire in a corner with some of its compatriots.
"Would Hermo-ninny or Professor Snape wish something from us?" The House Elf didn't look scared to death of the stern Professor, and given the blackness of the scowl directed at him, Hermione was rather surprised. Instead, the creature shook its head in amusement at the man, who stopped scowling to smile gently and reply.
"Ah, yes, Toddy. We would appreciate a late dinner, if you will. I know you won't mind fixing up a table for us."
"Of course not, Professor, Sir. Toddy will be doing that right now." And with a flick of his hand, a dimly lit doorway appeared across the entrance to the kitchens. Hermione looked, bemused, at Snape, who merely beckoned her to follow the small, bizarrely-clothed figure eagerly bobbing its way into the unknown room. Together they walked into the semi-darkness, slowly so that their eyes could adjust to it naturally. At the end of the short corridor was a small, cozy room. In the center was a dark wooden table, with a pretty pure white marble fireplace in front of it. The room was decorated in dark maroon and cream, comforting and grand at the same time. Hermione again looked at Snape, unconsciously assuming that he knew what this was all about.
"Given that the professors of this school must spend the entirety of their lives here for the better part of the year, we are given private dining areas in addition to private rooms in case we wish to entertain guests or some such. They are rarely used, but occasionally, as now, do come in handy." He wasn't sure why he was telling her so much, only that it seemed perfectly natural.
"I see. So, will we be having the remains of dinner?" She cocked her head at his snort.
"Of course not, Granger. Try to actually use that brain of yours. We can order what we like." He turned to the still-waiting House Elf. "Toddy, linguine alfredo, red wine, and a small antipasto. Thank you." Toddy nodded and turned to Miss. Granger.
"Um, what Professor Snape is having, I guess. Except, uh, pumpkin juice, please." Snape looked at her a moment, relieved that she hadn't tried to test the boundaries as most other students would have. Then he thought about the way pumpkin juice would taste with the delicious cuisine they were about to eat and winced.
"Make that butterbeer, Toddy, please; I know the kitchen stocks some." Another nod, and then the House Elf walked quickly out of sight, the doorway closing to give them the illusion of total privacy. Not such an illusion, actually. Only the teachers and Dumbledore could get in here; it was even spelled against the ghosts and poltergeists of the castle. He barely acknowledged the grateful look sent to him by Hermione, who too had been imaging the taste of butterbeer and alfredo.
"I come down to the kitchens often when I have been caught up in work all day and am in need of food, but I usually find it easier to have them put it on a tray and eat in my rooms."
"As do I, which is most probably why we've never run into each other before. Although one must wonder how, if you always get so little sleep, you manage to stay awake in class and participate with such…alacrity as you usually do." Hermione grinned at his tactful choice of words, but she knew that she was much better at tempering her enthusiasm in the classroom these past few years than her first few at Hogwarts.
"One could wonder the same of you, sir. Sleep has never been a large necessity of mine." Though her words were true, her body belied her statement as she gave a large yawn.
"Still, I think I will escort you to your rooms as soon as we have eaten, and it would not be wise to linger over the meal. After all, it would not do for our Head Girl to be seen sleeping in class tomorrow."
By this time, they had moved to the table, Snape unconsciously pulling out Hermione's chair in a time honored gesture of gallantry. To her credit, Hermione masked her surprise well. Perhaps she would make a Slytherin yet. Immediately, they were more at ease, as tends to happen, when sitting down. Snape may tower well over students, and never seemed to lack in grace or poise, but Hermione did not enjoy shifting from foot to foot. Conversation flowed freely as they waited for the food to be brought, beginning with a discussion about Dickens, and moving on to cover other authors of that time. Hermione found Severus even more well-versed in muggle literature than she could have imagined…if such a thing had not been preposterous to begin with. A comparison of various authors and facets of Victorian culture had proved fascinating, especially as Hermione had never had the fortune to get a wizard's perspective on such topics. Dinner came and went, marked only by occasional breaks in the conversation to savor a particularly good bite. Nevertheless, an hour later Hermione's yawns were coming every other sentence, refusing to be ignored. Snape finished the last bite of his tiramisu and looked at Hermione's plate. There was a bite left, although her portion had been smaller than his own to begin with. Well, never mind that, they both needed to be up early tomorrow, and scintillating as he was finding…the conversation (merely that, never the person), he was forced to admit that they should both be going. He waited until she had finished her small rant about the casual thoughtlessness and cruelty that pervaded many of the novels that they were discussing.
"Granger, I do believe that it is time for bed. I can't stand listening to sentences when they are so peppered with yawns." He ignored the mock glare she sent his way, wondering when they had become comfortable enough with each other to start teasing. Still, she nodded, paused and glanced at the last of the delicious dessert, and then decided against it. Standing up and stretching, she walked over to the place where the door had been. He joined her quickly, muttering a password that she didn't try to hear, and then they walked out to the kitchens, out of the kitchens and through the castle in a calm silence. No words were spoken until they reached the painting which hid the entrance to the Head Girl's room; a pleasant landscape.
"Can we continue working on the project tomorrow, sir? I have some free time after dinner…" Her voice trailed off as he shook his head.
"No, you have schoolwork that must be maintained. Tuesday and Thursday after dinner, in the room we worked in today, of course. The weekends will be decided on by a week-by week basis." Namely because Voldemort was showing something of a fondness for weekend meetings. Often the type where he came back with bloodstains on his clothes and just that much less of his soul.
"All right, sir." There was something slightly clipped about her voice; was she upset? Well, he couldn't spend the rest of the night worried about a miffed Gryffindor. It would ruin what he would admit had been a productive and pleasant evening.
"Good night, Miss Granger."
"Good night, Professor Snape." She whispered the password to the painting, and Snape saw the glow of heavy wards before they allowed her to enter. The painting swung open, and he turned and walked away from her as she entered her rooms.
A certain Headmaster glanced at his watch, although it was no time device such as a muggle would understand. Would they blame the past hour and a half on 'the subject material' as well? Then he sighed a little as he thought about the two people in question. Knowing them…yes.
Hermione was a little miffed, actually. She knew it was silly, but he had treated her rather well tonight, aside from his acerbic comments, and his dictation of their schedule without consultation of her own convenience had immediately displaced her notion of their being able to have a companionable working relationship. He had probably just been humoring her, making sure that she didn't let his little secret slip. He needn't have worried, it wasn't as though anyone would believe her even if she had wanted to divulge the information. The stoic Potions Master showing emotion of any sort? Ridiculous! Well, she could handle the reversion to type she was sure to meet at Tuesday's meeting, and she had harboured no illusions at all regarding Monday's lesson. He would always be a bastard in the classroom, but she had to admit that it got him results. But such thought is difficult when one is struggling to stay awake. And so, though the hour was not so late, Hermione yawned one last time before she changed into pajamas and fell into her comfortable bed.
Severus closed the book with a snap, as abruptly as all things tended to end in his life. But tonight was not for such maudlin thoughts as he often engaged in. Tonight, he had put his life on hold for just a few hours, read a favorite old book, reclined with a good drink in his hand, and now he was going to bed. He cleaned up his glass, banked the fire glowing in the ornate fireplace in front of his single chair, and untied the sash of his long black cotton dressing gown as he walked to the doorway which led to his bed. Although he was usually a fastidious person, he was pleasantly numbed to the realities of the world by a fairly nice evening with a fairly nice person, and the brandy and book. The mass of fine black material slithered to a heap beside the high four-poster bed that took up most of the space in his otherwise fairly sparse bedroom. He had not changed any of his living quarters since he became a teacher here, so many years ago. What was the point? Why should not he live in something as false as the rest of his life? Snape groaned from beneath the heavy black sheets he pulled around his boxer-clad self. He had sworn to be pleasant tonight, and to just have himself a good sleep. And damn it all, that's what he intended to happen. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and unconsciously began to picture Miss Granger over dinner tonight, smiling shyly at him in the golden light. And…he actually drifted off into a peaceful sleep that lasted until morning.
Morning broke, and Hermione was greeted with the peacefulness of a still dark room. She had been awoken by her own internal alarm clock, which rarely failed. It was about five forty five in the morning according to her time charm , so she supposed that even if she had a room that overlooked the outside of Hogwarts, she would not awake to sunlight. All of which had the unfortunate side effect of reminding her about Harry. Harry the Prat. Harry the Bastard. Harry the Scared Little Boy Who Wasn't Allowed to Fight. There were few times in which she truly questioned the judgment of so great a wizard as Albus Dumbledore, but this was an area in which she feared he was blind. She was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix, the war time Dark resistance organization founded with the rise of the first Dark Lord, so many eons ago, which she, Harry, and Ron had discovered in their fifth year- but neither were any of the other students, as far as she could tell. Harry, in the saddeningly few moments of confidence he had shared with her as his girlfriend, had told her of the visions which Voldemort sent him, sometimes purposefully, every night when he tried to go to sleep. Simply the description of such actions as that Dark bastard had enjoyed had sent her into nightmares and fueled her wish to help in the war effort, so she could only imagine what Harry felt. But she was also all too aware of the Boy Who Lived's shortcomings. He was too proud to admit to his best friends that he might need some help, too in awe of the Headmaster to stand up and ask him for a place in the fight against Voldemort…and not quite strong enough to resist the evil that slowly seeped into his soul. Though she hadn't truly loved him in more than a platonic way, his cheating and words and cruelty were hardly mitigated by that fact. Why, she bet Snape would have been able to… Her thoughts stuttered to a stop, since they had obviously gotten so lost she didn't even think a road map was going to help her out. How the hell had she gotten to the point where she was comparing people's actions to those of her Greasy Git Potion Master's? And why did it feel so right to do it? But, search as she might, Hermione's mind refused to give an answer other than a splitting head ache as punishment for her trying to force it's hand. She chuckled as she walked into the bathroom, imaging her brain playing poker against her, personified like some of those funny American cartoons she had watched as a child.
Freshly showered and dressed, with homework double checked, and teeth as clean as the daughter of two obsessive dentists could make them, Hermione started out into the halls of Hogwarts to breakfast. And if she happened to accidentally swing by Headmaster Dumledore's office on her way…well, then. No one seeing the slight Gryffindor walking with books swinging in her weightless satchel would have guessed that rather than thinking about a challenging homework assignment, her mind was furiously working on a way to involve students in a more active role against Voldemort. There were several obvious reasons this will be an advantage to the Cause. Firstly, I doubt Voldemort would expect it. Dumbledore is well known for the lengths to which he is willing to go to keep his precious students from the harsher realities of life. Such a thing as Voldemort would see this as a weakness. Secondly, we would give an old problem a new perspective. I know damned well that it was only in the past few decades that students were not admitted entrance into the Order. In past times, it had been normal for young men and women possessing the aptitude for it to be helping defend their world. Thirdly…
"So you see, Headmaster, that it would only be beneficial to our side. You wouldn't actually be sending any of us directly into the fight, at least not until we've graduated, but we would feel as though we were doing something- and we'd be right. This is so important to us, sir, you have to see!" Hermione Granger was not very fond of begging, but she was perfectly willing to do whatever she had to to ensure the cooperation of the unusually solemn old wizard who sat in front of her. His countenance was grave, with nary a twinkle in sight. Still, he had not rejected her proposition out of hand. Yet.
"Miss Granger, your plans are well-thought out, and I would have expected no less from you. But, child, as the Headmaster of this school, standing in place of these children's parents, I can NOT allow them even the thought of contact with so great an evil as Voldemort is." His face was sterner than Hermione had ever seen it, and she knew it was no use to argue or plead. She tightened her lips, still unconvinced that this inaction really was all for the best, and nodded as courteously as she could to the man before standing up and walking out the door of the Headmaster's office. She heard someone coming up the escalator like contraption that led to the office, and pushed herself to the right side of the narrow passage, in vain hope that whoever it was wouldn't squash her. She could only hope that it wasn't Hagrid. Professor Snape spared nothing but a sharp look at her as he passed her on his way up. He managed to somehow gracefully avoid any contact with her save for the brushing of the edge of his robes against her leg as he swept by. Hermione stayed still for a moment, then continued to move on. She really did want breakfast, but she didn't feel like eating with Harry and Ron and thinking 'if she had only been a little more persuasive, a little more prepared…' Not that she wasn't going to anyways, but Hermione enjoyed lying to herself almost as much as Severus did, though she didn't know it.
I love people who take the time to tell me how I'm doing and what they think of my story! Thanks so much:
DragonRose: Actually, I have been lucky and haven't gotten any flames, I was just really worried that I was obliviously writing trash. Still am, sort of. But thank you for the kind words. Hermione's drinking actually was out of character for her and she realizes that; she has only gone out drinking twice, once because she was worried that she had lost Harry, and once the night after because he broke up with her. She only drinks under times of extreme stress, and I doubt she will ever get drunk again after that horrible experience. They will get together, but I can't tell you when or how, nor can I tell you whether Hermione will wander upon Snape as a Death Eater. She already knows that he is one, as a spy for the light, if you recall the scene in the Great Hall where Dumbledore tells her that Snape can't work with her, she gets a little annoyed because she knows damn well where he is. Thanks!
V-volatile: Will never understand where your nom de plume came from, hon. And if you ever tell me that I 'rawk' again, I will beat you:D I hadn't thought you had read up to the last chapter either, which is why I told you to read it. Threatening my family, tsk, tsk. Now, go write a story so that I can read it;)
Fairythimbles: Good, hopefully this next one will get to you as well. I'm glad you liked the 'verbal sparring', they will probably continue on like that for the rest of the fic, no matter how their relationship goes. Well, unless it gets worse. Hm. I am actually not very knowledgeable about witchcraft, it just seemed right to me, so I'm very happy that you concur.
HunnySnowBunny: Wow, I hope no one was around to hear you say no:D Because I;ve done that a time or two as well. Glad that you appreciate the way I am trying to make both characters different than in the HP books, because they are older and there is a war going on, I am trying very hard not to make them out of character however.
Caroline: I don't know, I don't think you're still reading this since it has been so long since I last updated, and I'm really sorry about that, real life just got in the way. But I'm glad that you like it.
Jenthwriter: I'm very happy about that, and desperately hope that the long wait has not made you decide not to follow this. Hope you were able to read when more awake, but I do that too, lots.
Becka: No, the muses love chocolate all the more when it is offered in the review, and they wanted me to make sure you were properly thanked. Woohoo, glad that I manage to keep your interest even without cliffhangers, which I sometimes can't even help. Hope you are still reading and still liking it.
Madeleine Jete: Yes, jobs rather do take precedence over fanfiction, sadly. Thanks incredibly much for taking the time to review it, anyways. I, too, was very jealous of Hermione, especially after sitting leaned over my keyboard for a while. And to have the masseuse be Snape, mmm. Hope you find this chapter well-written, too.