Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 2 – Great Lengths

TWO MONTHS LATER

Lessons always began promptly at seven. Hermione dashed into the classroom, hair askew, fully expecting Snape to yell at her for being a minute late. To her surprise, he merely smirked.

"Miss Granger, you work too hard."

Hermione smiled slightly. "I would think you would approve of hard work, Professor."

"I do. But life isn't all about work, Miss Granger," he replied.

"The faster we work on this, the faster I go back to my quarters."

Snape nodded. "Shall we start, then?"

He aimed his wand at her. She was aware of his presence, powerless to stop him as he ransacked her memories; her cousin Jeremy throwing rocks at her…her father telling her the B on her report card was an utter failure…a boy saying he'd rather kiss a pig than be her Valentine. Hermione fell to the ground, sniffed slightly but did not let on that she was upset.

Severus mercifully stopped. He knew that this art was the pinnacle of violation, and he respected that. He was surprised at her mental toughness. It was wrong of him to keep intruding upon these thoughts, obviously so painful to her. He felt a small twinge in his heart. Facing her intrusion into his mind would be difficult.

Hermione stood to her feet and straightened her robes. "Legilimens!" she cried. This time, it was her turn to be surprised. She saw a woman, impossibly elegant, with long flowing hair, and beside the woman stood Snape, dressed in old-fashioned clothing.

Snape immediately closed his mind off. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. "Did you see how I closed my thoughts to you, Granger? You must learn to do the same, or else this is a waste of both our time."

Hermione stared into his eyes. He looked tired. He looked sad, not at all like her idea of what a forty-something man should look like. There was no trace of kindness or happiness. It was the face of a man who had seen only the worst of the world.

Once again, Snape pointed his wand. He didn't see much. Hermione was learning fast. He put the wand away and waved his hand as a dismissal. "Miss Granger, you're doing quite well. I'll see you next week."

~~

Hermione walked from the dungeons slowly. Professor Snape had changed. She didn't know why; she could never break the barrier he put around his thoughts. "Maybe," she thought, "he's finally realizing I'm not Harry or Ron."

She had been working on Occlumency so intensely that she had almost let herself go. The hair she had worked so hard to control had started to grow out again, and a bit of the frizziness had returned. She had misplaced her good shoes, and was wearing old scruffy saddle oxfords.

The boys didn't pay any attention to her, not that they ever did. Mr. Weasley still said she was pretty, but he seemed to be the only one. In fact, she thought it was only because Mr. Weasley was like a second father to her that he mentioned anything at all.

Then there was Snape. These few months of seeing his memories and thoughts made her realize that the professor was much more than the one-dimensional former Death Eater that Harry and Ron made him out to be. She had always known that he was multi-faceted, but now she was convinced that there was a part of Snape that he hid from the world. The man no longer leered at her in what she'd consider an evil way, (in fact, he stopped doing that after what was since known as The Row) but he was spending more time simply staring. Before it would have creeped her out, but now…now Snape didn't seem like such a bad guy.

~~

Standing in front of a small mirror and carefully drawing gossamer-fine threads, a portion of the fabric of his life, Severus began depositing memories back into his mind from his pensieve. Granger had been able to crack his thoughts on far too many occasions. Like her friend Harry Potter two years before, she had glimpsed scenes of Snape's pitiful childhood and school years. He wasn't furious with her, as he had been with Potter. In fact, the encroachment of his memories by Miss Granger scared him.

And that scared him more than anything.

Hermione – why not call her by her given name?  - was nearing eighteen. He had noticed she had been changing. All students mature and grow, but she had a real presence. She was lovely…yes, lovely. Far more attractive than any Slytherin girl, and better than the rest of the Gryffindors. He wondered why that boy from Durmstrang had let her go, and why Potter and Weasley didn't seem to appreciate the unusual beauty that lay in their midst. It wasn't her large, clear eyes and amiable smile that made her a true prize. Even gawky, freckled, smart mouthed Weasley could get a good looking girl in that Hufflepuff, but no one had an intellect superior to Hermione Granger's.

When she had first entered his classroom so many years before, he detested her. She was exceptional, so eager to please her teachers. He considered her a know-it-all, and he hated know-it-alls. He hated them because he was one, at that age. He saw people like Ernie McMillan and Percy Weasley as pretentious boobs who used their knowledge, or supposed knowledge, as a weapon in the war of one-upsmanship; but those like Hermione Granger, individuals who were too smart for their own good, he felt a type of pity for. Hermione was finally able to break free of her sheltered, nerdy station in life by becoming friends with Potter and the young Weasley. It was something Severus himself could never do, and that made him jealous of the girl. Yet, he admired her strength of character, a purely Gryffindor trait, but one that he wished he would have had during his Hogwarts days. She was a devoted friend to her fellow Gryffindors. She seemed to genuinely care about others. Usually Snape found those traits repulsive, but in Granger, he thought it was splendid.

Then Voldemort appeared with fury and glory, and petty jealousies meant nothing in the wake of the end of the world. Severus begrudgingly admitted that Potter, Weasley, and Granger had proven themselves to be the fiercest of allies in the struggle against He Who Must Not Be Named. During the ball celebrating the Tri-Wizard Championship, Hermione appeared in a stunning ball gown, her hair sleek and smooth. Everyone at the school was transfixed by the transformation, including Severus himself. In the years afterward (subsequent to Dumbledore reinstating the Order of the Phoenix) Severus found himself working with the children more and more often. Severus now found himself a secret agent, keeping tabs on Death Eaters while not betraying those fighting for good. It was an unenviable task, one that Severus thought torturous. He didn't know what to make of his feelings towards Hermione Granger, except the fact remained that she was no longer only a student to him. He didn't know what she was, really, except he felt the urge to fill his pensieve with his entire mind so she wouldn't see a hint of his thoughts.

~~

"I don't know what to do. When he looks at me, I feel…"

"You feel what? Nauseated? Like you need to scrub with bleach?" Ron said teasingly.

Hermione glared at her friend over the chessboard. Ron smiled at her, stuck out his tongue, and watched her move a knight toward his bishop.

"He's...kind to me. It's like he sees right through me."

Ron scratched his head. "Have you gone mad? Could it be, Hermione, that it's because he's reading your mind on a regular basis?"

"No. I mean…I don't know what I mean."

"You sound like you have a crush on him." Ron feigned a delighted expression.

"I do not!" she said defensively.

"Please, please tell me that you do not have a crush on bloody Snape!" Ron exclaimed. "Anyone but Snape. For god's sakes, run off with Crabbe or Goyle. Run off with Draco. Fall in love with Percy for all I care!"

"I'm not in love with anyone," Hermione answered truthfully.

Ron sat for a while, staring at the game board. "Right, then. I think I'd rather kiss Crookshanks than hear that you might like Snape."

When Ron first talked about Emma Dinwiddie, he blushed furiously and nearly vomited. Could he really be trusted to give solid advice about matters of the heart, especially when they were concerned someone he hated? In these situations, it was usually the other way around, with Ron sitting in the chair like an idiot and Hermione supplying the answers. What would he do, for instance, if she casually mentioned that she thought Snape's eyes were attractive? If she told him that she thought Snape's scent - an intriguing mixture of oranges, bay rum soap, and rainwater – was pleasing to her? What would her closest confidante say if she told him she sometimes thought, in brief daydreams, of putting her hand in the professor's?

"It's your move."

She jumped, interrupting the flow of thoughts. "Excuse me?"

Ron patted her hand gently. "It's your turn. I'm sorry I snapped at you, mate. I know you'll never do anything stupid like fall in love with Snape."

She distractedly moved her queen. Ron meant well, and she loved him for it, but there wasn't anything about Snape she could tell him about. There was no place to turn except within her. She focused herself back onto her friend, who beamed from ear to ear.

"Checkmate."