Chapter Thirty Eight The Bird and the Whale
Disclaimer: Not mine. Well, obviously it is, but I've stolen the characters from someone else. You can probably guess whom.
Hermione Granger was confused. It seemed to be her permanent state of being lately, she felt. Over the past year or so, she had become so familiar with the sensation that she was able to categorise its particular subspecies: whether it was, say, Confusion #3 - Slight But Enduring Puzzlement, such as one would experience upon finding someone else's sock under one's bed, or Confusion #7 - Intense Bafflement (which with a touch of Confusion #15 (Frustrated And Slightly Angry Perplexion) was her usual reaction to what she had come to term Snape Behaviour).
What she was experiencing now was Confusion #18 - I'm Getting Bloody Annoyed At This Situation.
Had it been only last weekend she and Ginny giggled over plans to seduce Snape? Everything had seemed so clear then. And *then,* when she had returned and he had acted like a complete and utter bastard, it had seemed clear that she had been delusional, and possibly in need of therapy for being attracted to him. Now, it was clear... that it wasn't clear at all. It never had been. It was a disturbing thought to someone who had always dealt in certainties.
Hermione squinted in the morning sun, and stretched. Last night, after that particularly earth-shattering kiss, Snape had done his usual wordless disappearing act. Eventually, she noted with a small smile. But the disappearing act had occurred, nonetheless, leaving Hermione to attempt sleep and awake with the aforesaid case of Confusion, and descend thenceforth into feeling completely out of control.
On the other hand, she reflected as she threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, if she was completely out of control, she wasn't entirely responsible for her own actions. There was a certain amount of comfort in that as she stepped into the shower and began to plan her day.
***
Snape was perplexed. If Hermione Granger had been any sort of decently traditional Englishwoman, she would have refrained from mentioning such an embarrassing moment as last night at all cost. It did not appear, however, that she intended to be traditional about it.
Currently, he was metaphorically backed against a wall as she confronted him. She had just asked him if he intended to discuss what had happened during last night's experiment and he- he felt a bump as a shelf poked him in the ribs - was now *literally* backed against a wall. This was not good.
'Miss Granger,' he said as he edged away from her with as much grace as he could manage, 'if your Gryffindor stupidity had not been blinding you to the ludicrously obvious, you would have realised that the entire purpose of our meeting today was to discuss the outcome of last night's experiment. Now, if I may direct your attention to-' His intended escape route behind the desk was suddenly blocked by several pounds of Granger, as she shifted to stand in his way. She raised an eyebrow.
'I was not talking,' she said, 'about the experiment, Snape.'
Snape decided the best move at this point was to raise a slightly puzzled eyebrow, with a touch of sneer for good measure. It didn't seem to have any effect, as she just continued to stare at him.
'You have this tendency, Snape, to avoid talking about certain... events,' she continued. 'For instance, I could have sworn that just a few weeks ago I accosted you and snogged you senseless. Perhaps you forgot. Or didn't notice. It *was* dark.'
Ah. The direct approach. Usually, he was a great advocate of the direct approach. It cut through all the usual mess people were apt to spout in their long journey to getting to the point. Today, he would have gladly sat through Sybil Trelawney's longest meanderings if it only meant he could avoid this particular point.
Luckily, the habit of years intervened. He shot her his most serious look and manoeuvred around to the other side of the desk.
'Perhaps,' he said, 'my failure to mention the incident was intended to save certain immature and drunken Gryffindors embarrassment.'
It wasn't one of his best, but it did appear to have hit the spot. He was preparing to deal with whatever hurt his comment provoked when he noted that Hermione did not look like a kicked puppy, as he would have expected; instead, her eyes appeared to be narrowing and her mouth was taking that particular shape reminiscent of Minerva McGonagall whenever she observed Peeves at work. He had seen this particular expression on Hermione's face several times, some of them just before she had slapped him. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation; his remark was supposed to have jolted her out of her apparent coquettish mood and hopefully out of his work room. Instead, it had poked what he recognised now as her quiet anger into full-blown fury. Drat.
'You're a fine one to talk about immaturity, Snape,' she said, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him. 'You react to just about everything with the emotional finesse of a three-year old. You always throw that word at me- immaturity. It seems to be the magic word for you. I'm tired of it. I would question,' she said, advancing on him behind the desk, 'the motivation of a man who would repeatedly kiss a woman he considers so immature.'
There was a strategy here, he thought as he considered his next move. He could back away again, but he didn't think that would get him anywhere. For the first time in his illustrious career as a nasty bastard, he couldn't think of a biting remark that would make her back down. He could always turn heel and run, but that lacked his usual grace.
Ah. Obviously not intending to give him time to think, Hermione was walking closer. Snape had seen a particularly cliched muggle movie once in which the hero had run his finger around his collar when confronted by the heroine. He understood that move now; his clothing did seem a little... confining.
'I am not the bathroom mirror, Snape,' Hermione said, leaning close to him. 'You can't just use me to practise on and then put me away. You are either in a state of wanting to kiss me, or not.' The glare in her eyes faded slightly, and she stood watching him. Snape thought she looked like she was waiting for something, though he hadn't the faintest idea what. This new side of Hermione was disturbing. After a moment, she shook her head and backed off.
'I'll organise my notes and send them to you this afternoon,' she said, picking up her books and heading for the door. 'I am going to lunch.' As she strode out the door Snape thought he heard her add, 'With humans.' He could have been mistaken.
Thoroughly puzzled, he sat down at his desk with the intention of forgetting that episode ever happened and doing some work, and even managed to do so for three or four seconds. After that, he looked up with a frown.
What was she up to, anyway? Blaming the whole thing on him, attacking him like that when she had been an active initiator in at least half of the... events she was talking about. It wasn't his fault she kept on throwing herself in his way. And to insinuate that there was something strange about the whole situation by turning her own behaviour back on him...
Regardless, it seemed she was of some mad mind to be confrontational about it. He realised that, with all fairness, he would have to react to this situation in some way. After all, it wasn't fair or appropriate that matters simply go on this way. He would have to do something about it. It was lucky that he was so level-headed; when he calmed down and thought about it, there was really only one way of resolving the situation.
Snape nodded to himself and began to gather up his papers. He would do the only thing he could do. He would hide in his rooms and avoid her for the rest of the day.
***
Hermione sipped at her mint tea and closed her eyes. Today had been a very long day. Her whole afternoon had been spent trying to note down interesting aspects of the experiment, which was a difficult task in itself, even disregarding what had happened after the dream. She had, in her continued insanity of the morning, decided not to disregard what had happened after the dream, and had stuck an analysis of Snape's behaviour on the end of the report before sending it to him by owl. It had not been one of her best moments.
Thankfully, Snape had seemingly decided to save his torrent of fire for her immature behaviour for another day, and she had managed to avoid seeing him again. Minerva, bless her, had invited Hermione to dinner in her rooms for the evening, which was why Hermione was now ensconced in a comfy chair sipping mint tea instead of in the great hall facing Snape's wrath.
Currently Minerva was on the chair opposite, watching her. Hermione gave her a nervous smile. It had seemed to her, of late, that many of the staff- particularly Minerva and Poppy - had been looking at her in a particularly watchful way. She had no idea why. Maybe it was some sort of initiation for new members of staff.
'Thank you for a lovely dinner, Minerva,' she said politely. The older woman nodded her head.
There was a pause.
'This is wonderful tea,' she added. Minerva smiled again.
'Yes. Poppy got it in Hogsmeade.'
'Ah.'
Another pause descended.
'You seem to be talking to Severus again,' Minerva said. Hermione detected a hint of hopefulness in her tone and frowned.
'Sort of,' she answered. Minerva raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Hermione didn't elaborate. It wasn't like her old head of house to be so roundabout, but if she had chosen this particular topic to be cagey on, Hermione wasn't going to help her. It wasn't like there was anything to talk about, anyway.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Hermione sought for something to say.
'Sirius seems to be enjoying his time here,' she began. It was only when the other woman's eyebrows raised that Hermione realised that particular topic was full of mineholes as well. She heard the tick of the clock on the mantlepiece as she searched for something to add that couldn't be misconstrued.
'He, ah, was telling me that he and Dumbledore are making progress,' she added. 'They seem to be getting along well.'
'Yes,' said Minerva, still watching her eagerly. Hermione sighed inwardly. It would be nice to think that her life within the school was seen as more than amourous exploits to entertain the older members of staff, but it was a vain hope. The older witches seemed determined to pair her off with someone.
Hermione finished off the tea in one gulp and set her cup aside. 'I must be going,' she said, and stood. Minerva's face crumbled in disappointment.
'Oh, really? It's so early. You haven't had any cake yet.'
'I'm sorry. It's been a very long day.' Hermione sent the older witch an apologetic smile and began edging toward the door. 'What with working and... working. You know how it is. Thank you so much for dinner. It was lovely, really.'
Minerva stood and walked her to the door. 'Well, dear, if that's the case then you had better get some rest. You don't want to be tired for your birthday.' She offered her a smile, which Hermione returned, though the reminder didn't make her want to smile at all. As she walked back to her rooms, she reflected that she didn't feel almost twenty at all; more like fifty-two.
However, it appeared that she was not going to be allowed to wallow as she discovered when she spied Sirius standing outside her rooms.
'Ah, I was just wondering where you'd got to,' he said, holding up a bottle.
Hermione began to shake her head. 'Sirius, I'm sorry, but-'
'No, none of that nonsense for me,' he interrupted. 'Harry would be ashamed if he knew his godfather had let his best friend spend her last hours as a teenager doing something respectable. Besides, I'm bored.'
Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'Okay, but on one condition: there will be no mention, hinting at, winking about or insinuating of a certain potions master who works at this school or any connected topic. I've had enough of that for one day.'
Sirius gave her a solemn look. 'Hermione,' he said. 'I've got you all alone in some private rooms and you think I want to talk about Severus Snape?'
Hermione rolled her eyes and let him in.
It turned out a lot better than she had expected. Instead of being sneaky or trying to wriggle around the topic like most people she had encountered of late, Sirius actually kept his word and not mentioned Snape all evening. Instead of having to face another subtle interrogation on her private life, Hermione found herself having the first intelligent conversation she had had in months. She was even able to forget about Snape herself, after an hour or so. At the end of the evening, Hermione gave Sirius a heartfelt hug.
'Thank you for a wonderful birthday present,' she said as they stood at the door.
'Hey, I may be a dog, but I give good conversation,' Sirius joked. Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed him out the door.
The next morning, Hermione woke in a much better frame of mind than on the previous day. A lingering confusion still remained, but, as she gave herself a stern talking to in the shower, she didn't have to play along with Snape's games. If he wanted to be a confusing bastard, he could do so by himself.
Getting a good book from her shelves, she prepared to go down to breakfast. Today was her birthday, and she was going to spend it being herself.
***
'I'm worried about Hermione,' said Minerva as she, the headmaster, Poppy and Sirius exited the great hall after lunch. 'She's been so quiet these past few days.'
'You mean when she hasn't been yelling at Snape,' Sirius said with a grin. Minerva frowned at him.
'I know perfectly well what I mean. She hasn't been herself.'
'It is true,' said Poppy. 'I haven't seen her all day, and she usually comes to breakfast at least.'
'I believe the house elves delivered her lunch to the staff room,' Dumbledore said pointedly.
'Well perhaps we'd better go and say hello to her then,' Sirius smiled.
'It wouldn't do to have her think we don't care it's her birthday, poor girl,' said Minerva with another frown, leading the way to the staff room.
***
Hermione sat staring into the empty fireplace of the staff room, her book opening its pages to the empty air. It was all very well to decide to not let Snape affect her any more, but she couldn't stop her brain from analysing him. She supposed it was her nature. Anyway, when a man kisses you one minute and yells at you the next, it was bound to provoke thought.
He hadn't kissed her again. She had stood there after asking him whether he wanted to or not, and he hadn't. Maybe she had misinterpreted the whole thing from the start? He had just about said as much. Perhaps it had been all her. In any case, he hadn't wanted her.
Hermione heard the click of a door and edged further back into her chair. She didn't want to be interrupted today. She simply wanted to be left alone, at least for today. She would cope with things tomorrow.
A figure stepped in front of the other chair, and Hermione sighed. It seemed the world wasn't content to let her be. She could tell, even without looking, that it was Snape.
She jumped as a book came into her vision, proffered by a pale hand.
'Happy birthday.' Surprised, Hermione looked up, but he had settled back into his chair and was watching the empty fireplace. Raising her eyebrows in consternation, Hermione turned the book over in her hands. It wasn't wrapped at all, but the printing on the material cover was difficult to read.
'Lucerne's Potions. This has been out of print...' She looked up to see Snape watching her reaction.
'It still is,' said Snape. 'Rather out of date now, but I believe you will find some of the historical references interesting.' He raised an eyebrow. 'I would have sent it via dove, but the damn thing wouldn't spit the twig of laurel out.'
She spent a slightly stunned moment before the smile fought its way out, and then she hid it by looking down at the book. Snape didn't seem to mind.
They sat in silence for a while. It was the type of moment that only became awkward when one thought about it. She did.
'I hope the notes I sent yesterday were comprehensible,' she began, but was stopped by his look. She opened her mouth to speak again, but stopped and frowned.
'I don't understand you at all,' she complained. Snape raised an eyebrow slightly.
'You are not required to,' he replied.
Hermione sighed, and looked away. She heard a soft noise from Snape. 'What is it you would like to know?' he asked.
She looked up in surprise. It seemed he was sincere. Hermione cleared her throat.
'I, uh.' She frowned. 'I don't know what to ask.'
Snape folded his hands loosely in his lap, appearing to be ready to wait. Hermione looked down at her own hands, searching for a beginning.
'Do you miss Ailie?' she asked, finally. Snape's eyebrows rose slightly.
'Not as much as I'm certain you do,' he said, but shook his head at Hermione's reproving look. 'Yes. In many ways, I do.'
'What ways?' Hermione asked, surprising herself. 'I mean, you always seemed to barely tolerate her. She seemed to annoy you so much.'
'Having someone constantly in your head would annoy you as well, Hermione,' Snape drawled with a hint of humour. 'And I barely tolerate most people. But,' he added, 'she was entertaining, generally helpful when she tried to be, and never cruel. That is more than I would think most people would be if they had the opportunity to manipulate my mind.'
Hermione looked down. 'Not everyone would want to be cruel to you,' she said quietly. She heard Snape sigh impatiently, and let it go.
'Do you enjoy teaching?' she asked. She saw him nod.
'Yes,' he said. 'On occasion. The joy of seeing a completely uncomprehending and talentless dunderhead of a child transform into a mildly competent human being cannot be described. Although I have had my failures, even then.' Hermione gave a reluctant smile.
'You know, Neville was terrified of you,' she said, feeling like she was on safer ground in this topic. 'That's why he was always exploding cauldrons.'
'Neville Longbottom was constantly exploding cauldrons because he has absolutely no talent for potions. If it was possible, I would suggest he has a negative talent for potions, his own neutrality toward them having been leeched by some over-active potions mind,' he answered dryly. His tone softened. 'However, I hear that he is sufficiently adept at his chosen field of Herbology to have streamlined his courses at university and achieve top grades. His father was particularly adept at the subject, I recall.'
Hermione's eyes widened. 'Do you keep track of your students after they leave school?'
Snape snorted. 'One can hardly avoid it. Minerva is continually spouting the successes of her graduated Gryffindors in the staff room. But yes, it pays to keep track of the future of wizardry.'
Hermione took a moment to digest that. She had always assumed that Snape would revel in their failures, rather than show any pleasure or interest in her class mates' successes. She frowned as a question she had always wanted to ask came to mind.
'Why were you so horrible to all of us during school?' she asked quietly.
'Because I didn't like you,' Snape replied, without hesitation. Hermione looked over at him, slightly shocked.
Snape gave her a serious look. 'Hermione, if you picture me as the sort of person who will suddenly spout streams of the milk of human kindness, you are in for a very long wait,' he said sternly. 'It took me several years to accept what I am, but what I am is unchangeable. Do not fantasise that encouragement will force me into becoming a...' he grimaced, 'normal human being.'
The conversation was taking a familiar path, and Hermione said so. 'You always do that. Poking and prodding at anyone who wants to be friends with you. I've seen it, you know,' she added with quiet disappointment. 'I've watched the way you work. You could be friends with Sirius, if you'd only- only- loosen up a little and not be such a complete stiff prat. And McGonagall.' She looked down at her hands, adding quietly, 'and me.' When she looked up again, she saw that Snape was staring into the empty grate of the fire, his expression unreadable. 'Every time someone tries to get even a little bit close to you- tries to make it that the can have a decent conversation with you, even- you close off and make them feel stupid for even trying. It's not a crime to have friends, you know. It's not going to make you suddenly walk around spreading sunshine either.' She stared at him until he was forced to look at her.
'It's the way I am,' he said simply.
'No,' Hermione replied, shaking her head. 'Evidently it's the way you want to be. You aren't fixed in stone, Snape, no matter how much you want to be.'
'I cannot change my personality simply because some little girl wants me to,' Snape argued. Hermione could sense him closing down, retreating from the openness of the conversation. She made a frustrated sound and ran her hands through her hair.
'That is not what I mean at all, and you know it. I... there are many people who are willing to appreciate you as you are. I - I do,' she admitted quietly. 'I just wish that we could have a conversation without me having to be scared of what you say, scared that you will just explode at me.'
'We're doing that right now,' Snape said mildly.
Hermione sighed. 'Yes, that's true.'
'Hermione,' Snape said. 'I will not change. This is something you will have to accept. Now, run away.'
'You're not listening to me.' She sent him a disappointed look and stood.
'May I ask one last question?' she asked. Snape inclined his head. 'How can I make you happy?'
Snape frowned slightly, and thought for a moment. 'That isn't what should concern you,' he eventually said, not looking at her. Hermione pressed her lips tightly together, but said nothing. She felt there wasn't anything to say.
***
The four who had been standing at the doorway silently looked at each other as first Hermione, then Snape exited the staff room. McGonagall raised her eyebrows silently.
'The bird and the whale,' Sirius said, as the four of them watched Snape and Hermione walk down the corridor. The two walked to the end of the corridor together, then parted without a word. Minerva looked at Sirius enquiringly, and he nodded in the direction of the disappeared pair. 'The song of the bird who fell in love with the whale,' he explained, and recited: 'He said, 'You cannot live in the ocean,'
And she said to him, 'You never can live in the sky,'
But the ocean is filled with tears
And the sea turns into a mirror
There's a whale in the moon when it's clear
And a bird on the tide.' He finished with a nod, as Professor Sprout broke into quiet applause.
'I never knew you were so poetic, Sirius,' Dumbledore said, as the four of them made their way back to the staff room. Sirius shrugged.
'It helps to charm the ladies,' he said with a grin, and was rewarded with a slap from Sprout.
'Why do you quote that particular story in relation to Severus and Hermione?' McGonagall asked, as they entered the staff room. She and Sirius made their way to the fireside while Albus and Poppy ventured toward the tea things.
'It's clear that Severus is never going to put the poor girl out of her misery,' Sirius said, shaking his head. 'Not that I don't understand his position. Hermione's not exactly helpless, but Snape's position...' He looked around uncomfortably. 'Well, he's not exactly the best man for a young witch to be dating. And he knows that, so he's keeping away from her. Smart, but...' He trailed off with a shrug and Minerva twinkled at him.
'I had no idea you were such a romantic at heart,' she teased, and was surprised to see Sirius blush.
'I may be a rogue, but I'm not a heartless one,' he said. 'And I listen to women.' He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Minerva shook her head with a smile.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Well, obviously it is, but I've stolen the characters from someone else. You can probably guess whom.
Hermione Granger was confused. It seemed to be her permanent state of being lately, she felt. Over the past year or so, she had become so familiar with the sensation that she was able to categorise its particular subspecies: whether it was, say, Confusion #3 - Slight But Enduring Puzzlement, such as one would experience upon finding someone else's sock under one's bed, or Confusion #7 - Intense Bafflement (which with a touch of Confusion #15 (Frustrated And Slightly Angry Perplexion) was her usual reaction to what she had come to term Snape Behaviour).
What she was experiencing now was Confusion #18 - I'm Getting Bloody Annoyed At This Situation.
Had it been only last weekend she and Ginny giggled over plans to seduce Snape? Everything had seemed so clear then. And *then,* when she had returned and he had acted like a complete and utter bastard, it had seemed clear that she had been delusional, and possibly in need of therapy for being attracted to him. Now, it was clear... that it wasn't clear at all. It never had been. It was a disturbing thought to someone who had always dealt in certainties.
Hermione squinted in the morning sun, and stretched. Last night, after that particularly earth-shattering kiss, Snape had done his usual wordless disappearing act. Eventually, she noted with a small smile. But the disappearing act had occurred, nonetheless, leaving Hermione to attempt sleep and awake with the aforesaid case of Confusion, and descend thenceforth into feeling completely out of control.
On the other hand, she reflected as she threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, if she was completely out of control, she wasn't entirely responsible for her own actions. There was a certain amount of comfort in that as she stepped into the shower and began to plan her day.
***
Snape was perplexed. If Hermione Granger had been any sort of decently traditional Englishwoman, she would have refrained from mentioning such an embarrassing moment as last night at all cost. It did not appear, however, that she intended to be traditional about it.
Currently, he was metaphorically backed against a wall as she confronted him. She had just asked him if he intended to discuss what had happened during last night's experiment and he- he felt a bump as a shelf poked him in the ribs - was now *literally* backed against a wall. This was not good.
'Miss Granger,' he said as he edged away from her with as much grace as he could manage, 'if your Gryffindor stupidity had not been blinding you to the ludicrously obvious, you would have realised that the entire purpose of our meeting today was to discuss the outcome of last night's experiment. Now, if I may direct your attention to-' His intended escape route behind the desk was suddenly blocked by several pounds of Granger, as she shifted to stand in his way. She raised an eyebrow.
'I was not talking,' she said, 'about the experiment, Snape.'
Snape decided the best move at this point was to raise a slightly puzzled eyebrow, with a touch of sneer for good measure. It didn't seem to have any effect, as she just continued to stare at him.
'You have this tendency, Snape, to avoid talking about certain... events,' she continued. 'For instance, I could have sworn that just a few weeks ago I accosted you and snogged you senseless. Perhaps you forgot. Or didn't notice. It *was* dark.'
Ah. The direct approach. Usually, he was a great advocate of the direct approach. It cut through all the usual mess people were apt to spout in their long journey to getting to the point. Today, he would have gladly sat through Sybil Trelawney's longest meanderings if it only meant he could avoid this particular point.
Luckily, the habit of years intervened. He shot her his most serious look and manoeuvred around to the other side of the desk.
'Perhaps,' he said, 'my failure to mention the incident was intended to save certain immature and drunken Gryffindors embarrassment.'
It wasn't one of his best, but it did appear to have hit the spot. He was preparing to deal with whatever hurt his comment provoked when he noted that Hermione did not look like a kicked puppy, as he would have expected; instead, her eyes appeared to be narrowing and her mouth was taking that particular shape reminiscent of Minerva McGonagall whenever she observed Peeves at work. He had seen this particular expression on Hermione's face several times, some of them just before she had slapped him. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation; his remark was supposed to have jolted her out of her apparent coquettish mood and hopefully out of his work room. Instead, it had poked what he recognised now as her quiet anger into full-blown fury. Drat.
'You're a fine one to talk about immaturity, Snape,' she said, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him. 'You react to just about everything with the emotional finesse of a three-year old. You always throw that word at me- immaturity. It seems to be the magic word for you. I'm tired of it. I would question,' she said, advancing on him behind the desk, 'the motivation of a man who would repeatedly kiss a woman he considers so immature.'
There was a strategy here, he thought as he considered his next move. He could back away again, but he didn't think that would get him anywhere. For the first time in his illustrious career as a nasty bastard, he couldn't think of a biting remark that would make her back down. He could always turn heel and run, but that lacked his usual grace.
Ah. Obviously not intending to give him time to think, Hermione was walking closer. Snape had seen a particularly cliched muggle movie once in which the hero had run his finger around his collar when confronted by the heroine. He understood that move now; his clothing did seem a little... confining.
'I am not the bathroom mirror, Snape,' Hermione said, leaning close to him. 'You can't just use me to practise on and then put me away. You are either in a state of wanting to kiss me, or not.' The glare in her eyes faded slightly, and she stood watching him. Snape thought she looked like she was waiting for something, though he hadn't the faintest idea what. This new side of Hermione was disturbing. After a moment, she shook her head and backed off.
'I'll organise my notes and send them to you this afternoon,' she said, picking up her books and heading for the door. 'I am going to lunch.' As she strode out the door Snape thought he heard her add, 'With humans.' He could have been mistaken.
Thoroughly puzzled, he sat down at his desk with the intention of forgetting that episode ever happened and doing some work, and even managed to do so for three or four seconds. After that, he looked up with a frown.
What was she up to, anyway? Blaming the whole thing on him, attacking him like that when she had been an active initiator in at least half of the... events she was talking about. It wasn't his fault she kept on throwing herself in his way. And to insinuate that there was something strange about the whole situation by turning her own behaviour back on him...
Regardless, it seemed she was of some mad mind to be confrontational about it. He realised that, with all fairness, he would have to react to this situation in some way. After all, it wasn't fair or appropriate that matters simply go on this way. He would have to do something about it. It was lucky that he was so level-headed; when he calmed down and thought about it, there was really only one way of resolving the situation.
Snape nodded to himself and began to gather up his papers. He would do the only thing he could do. He would hide in his rooms and avoid her for the rest of the day.
***
Hermione sipped at her mint tea and closed her eyes. Today had been a very long day. Her whole afternoon had been spent trying to note down interesting aspects of the experiment, which was a difficult task in itself, even disregarding what had happened after the dream. She had, in her continued insanity of the morning, decided not to disregard what had happened after the dream, and had stuck an analysis of Snape's behaviour on the end of the report before sending it to him by owl. It had not been one of her best moments.
Thankfully, Snape had seemingly decided to save his torrent of fire for her immature behaviour for another day, and she had managed to avoid seeing him again. Minerva, bless her, had invited Hermione to dinner in her rooms for the evening, which was why Hermione was now ensconced in a comfy chair sipping mint tea instead of in the great hall facing Snape's wrath.
Currently Minerva was on the chair opposite, watching her. Hermione gave her a nervous smile. It had seemed to her, of late, that many of the staff- particularly Minerva and Poppy - had been looking at her in a particularly watchful way. She had no idea why. Maybe it was some sort of initiation for new members of staff.
'Thank you for a lovely dinner, Minerva,' she said politely. The older woman nodded her head.
There was a pause.
'This is wonderful tea,' she added. Minerva smiled again.
'Yes. Poppy got it in Hogsmeade.'
'Ah.'
Another pause descended.
'You seem to be talking to Severus again,' Minerva said. Hermione detected a hint of hopefulness in her tone and frowned.
'Sort of,' she answered. Minerva raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Hermione didn't elaborate. It wasn't like her old head of house to be so roundabout, but if she had chosen this particular topic to be cagey on, Hermione wasn't going to help her. It wasn't like there was anything to talk about, anyway.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Hermione sought for something to say.
'Sirius seems to be enjoying his time here,' she began. It was only when the other woman's eyebrows raised that Hermione realised that particular topic was full of mineholes as well. She heard the tick of the clock on the mantlepiece as she searched for something to add that couldn't be misconstrued.
'He, ah, was telling me that he and Dumbledore are making progress,' she added. 'They seem to be getting along well.'
'Yes,' said Minerva, still watching her eagerly. Hermione sighed inwardly. It would be nice to think that her life within the school was seen as more than amourous exploits to entertain the older members of staff, but it was a vain hope. The older witches seemed determined to pair her off with someone.
Hermione finished off the tea in one gulp and set her cup aside. 'I must be going,' she said, and stood. Minerva's face crumbled in disappointment.
'Oh, really? It's so early. You haven't had any cake yet.'
'I'm sorry. It's been a very long day.' Hermione sent the older witch an apologetic smile and began edging toward the door. 'What with working and... working. You know how it is. Thank you so much for dinner. It was lovely, really.'
Minerva stood and walked her to the door. 'Well, dear, if that's the case then you had better get some rest. You don't want to be tired for your birthday.' She offered her a smile, which Hermione returned, though the reminder didn't make her want to smile at all. As she walked back to her rooms, she reflected that she didn't feel almost twenty at all; more like fifty-two.
However, it appeared that she was not going to be allowed to wallow as she discovered when she spied Sirius standing outside her rooms.
'Ah, I was just wondering where you'd got to,' he said, holding up a bottle.
Hermione began to shake her head. 'Sirius, I'm sorry, but-'
'No, none of that nonsense for me,' he interrupted. 'Harry would be ashamed if he knew his godfather had let his best friend spend her last hours as a teenager doing something respectable. Besides, I'm bored.'
Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'Okay, but on one condition: there will be no mention, hinting at, winking about or insinuating of a certain potions master who works at this school or any connected topic. I've had enough of that for one day.'
Sirius gave her a solemn look. 'Hermione,' he said. 'I've got you all alone in some private rooms and you think I want to talk about Severus Snape?'
Hermione rolled her eyes and let him in.
It turned out a lot better than she had expected. Instead of being sneaky or trying to wriggle around the topic like most people she had encountered of late, Sirius actually kept his word and not mentioned Snape all evening. Instead of having to face another subtle interrogation on her private life, Hermione found herself having the first intelligent conversation she had had in months. She was even able to forget about Snape herself, after an hour or so. At the end of the evening, Hermione gave Sirius a heartfelt hug.
'Thank you for a wonderful birthday present,' she said as they stood at the door.
'Hey, I may be a dog, but I give good conversation,' Sirius joked. Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed him out the door.
The next morning, Hermione woke in a much better frame of mind than on the previous day. A lingering confusion still remained, but, as she gave herself a stern talking to in the shower, she didn't have to play along with Snape's games. If he wanted to be a confusing bastard, he could do so by himself.
Getting a good book from her shelves, she prepared to go down to breakfast. Today was her birthday, and she was going to spend it being herself.
***
'I'm worried about Hermione,' said Minerva as she, the headmaster, Poppy and Sirius exited the great hall after lunch. 'She's been so quiet these past few days.'
'You mean when she hasn't been yelling at Snape,' Sirius said with a grin. Minerva frowned at him.
'I know perfectly well what I mean. She hasn't been herself.'
'It is true,' said Poppy. 'I haven't seen her all day, and she usually comes to breakfast at least.'
'I believe the house elves delivered her lunch to the staff room,' Dumbledore said pointedly.
'Well perhaps we'd better go and say hello to her then,' Sirius smiled.
'It wouldn't do to have her think we don't care it's her birthday, poor girl,' said Minerva with another frown, leading the way to the staff room.
***
Hermione sat staring into the empty fireplace of the staff room, her book opening its pages to the empty air. It was all very well to decide to not let Snape affect her any more, but she couldn't stop her brain from analysing him. She supposed it was her nature. Anyway, when a man kisses you one minute and yells at you the next, it was bound to provoke thought.
He hadn't kissed her again. She had stood there after asking him whether he wanted to or not, and he hadn't. Maybe she had misinterpreted the whole thing from the start? He had just about said as much. Perhaps it had been all her. In any case, he hadn't wanted her.
Hermione heard the click of a door and edged further back into her chair. She didn't want to be interrupted today. She simply wanted to be left alone, at least for today. She would cope with things tomorrow.
A figure stepped in front of the other chair, and Hermione sighed. It seemed the world wasn't content to let her be. She could tell, even without looking, that it was Snape.
She jumped as a book came into her vision, proffered by a pale hand.
'Happy birthday.' Surprised, Hermione looked up, but he had settled back into his chair and was watching the empty fireplace. Raising her eyebrows in consternation, Hermione turned the book over in her hands. It wasn't wrapped at all, but the printing on the material cover was difficult to read.
'Lucerne's Potions. This has been out of print...' She looked up to see Snape watching her reaction.
'It still is,' said Snape. 'Rather out of date now, but I believe you will find some of the historical references interesting.' He raised an eyebrow. 'I would have sent it via dove, but the damn thing wouldn't spit the twig of laurel out.'
She spent a slightly stunned moment before the smile fought its way out, and then she hid it by looking down at the book. Snape didn't seem to mind.
They sat in silence for a while. It was the type of moment that only became awkward when one thought about it. She did.
'I hope the notes I sent yesterday were comprehensible,' she began, but was stopped by his look. She opened her mouth to speak again, but stopped and frowned.
'I don't understand you at all,' she complained. Snape raised an eyebrow slightly.
'You are not required to,' he replied.
Hermione sighed, and looked away. She heard a soft noise from Snape. 'What is it you would like to know?' he asked.
She looked up in surprise. It seemed he was sincere. Hermione cleared her throat.
'I, uh.' She frowned. 'I don't know what to ask.'
Snape folded his hands loosely in his lap, appearing to be ready to wait. Hermione looked down at her own hands, searching for a beginning.
'Do you miss Ailie?' she asked, finally. Snape's eyebrows rose slightly.
'Not as much as I'm certain you do,' he said, but shook his head at Hermione's reproving look. 'Yes. In many ways, I do.'
'What ways?' Hermione asked, surprising herself. 'I mean, you always seemed to barely tolerate her. She seemed to annoy you so much.'
'Having someone constantly in your head would annoy you as well, Hermione,' Snape drawled with a hint of humour. 'And I barely tolerate most people. But,' he added, 'she was entertaining, generally helpful when she tried to be, and never cruel. That is more than I would think most people would be if they had the opportunity to manipulate my mind.'
Hermione looked down. 'Not everyone would want to be cruel to you,' she said quietly. She heard Snape sigh impatiently, and let it go.
'Do you enjoy teaching?' she asked. She saw him nod.
'Yes,' he said. 'On occasion. The joy of seeing a completely uncomprehending and talentless dunderhead of a child transform into a mildly competent human being cannot be described. Although I have had my failures, even then.' Hermione gave a reluctant smile.
'You know, Neville was terrified of you,' she said, feeling like she was on safer ground in this topic. 'That's why he was always exploding cauldrons.'
'Neville Longbottom was constantly exploding cauldrons because he has absolutely no talent for potions. If it was possible, I would suggest he has a negative talent for potions, his own neutrality toward them having been leeched by some over-active potions mind,' he answered dryly. His tone softened. 'However, I hear that he is sufficiently adept at his chosen field of Herbology to have streamlined his courses at university and achieve top grades. His father was particularly adept at the subject, I recall.'
Hermione's eyes widened. 'Do you keep track of your students after they leave school?'
Snape snorted. 'One can hardly avoid it. Minerva is continually spouting the successes of her graduated Gryffindors in the staff room. But yes, it pays to keep track of the future of wizardry.'
Hermione took a moment to digest that. She had always assumed that Snape would revel in their failures, rather than show any pleasure or interest in her class mates' successes. She frowned as a question she had always wanted to ask came to mind.
'Why were you so horrible to all of us during school?' she asked quietly.
'Because I didn't like you,' Snape replied, without hesitation. Hermione looked over at him, slightly shocked.
Snape gave her a serious look. 'Hermione, if you picture me as the sort of person who will suddenly spout streams of the milk of human kindness, you are in for a very long wait,' he said sternly. 'It took me several years to accept what I am, but what I am is unchangeable. Do not fantasise that encouragement will force me into becoming a...' he grimaced, 'normal human being.'
The conversation was taking a familiar path, and Hermione said so. 'You always do that. Poking and prodding at anyone who wants to be friends with you. I've seen it, you know,' she added with quiet disappointment. 'I've watched the way you work. You could be friends with Sirius, if you'd only- only- loosen up a little and not be such a complete stiff prat. And McGonagall.' She looked down at her hands, adding quietly, 'and me.' When she looked up again, she saw that Snape was staring into the empty grate of the fire, his expression unreadable. 'Every time someone tries to get even a little bit close to you- tries to make it that the can have a decent conversation with you, even- you close off and make them feel stupid for even trying. It's not a crime to have friends, you know. It's not going to make you suddenly walk around spreading sunshine either.' She stared at him until he was forced to look at her.
'It's the way I am,' he said simply.
'No,' Hermione replied, shaking her head. 'Evidently it's the way you want to be. You aren't fixed in stone, Snape, no matter how much you want to be.'
'I cannot change my personality simply because some little girl wants me to,' Snape argued. Hermione could sense him closing down, retreating from the openness of the conversation. She made a frustrated sound and ran her hands through her hair.
'That is not what I mean at all, and you know it. I... there are many people who are willing to appreciate you as you are. I - I do,' she admitted quietly. 'I just wish that we could have a conversation without me having to be scared of what you say, scared that you will just explode at me.'
'We're doing that right now,' Snape said mildly.
Hermione sighed. 'Yes, that's true.'
'Hermione,' Snape said. 'I will not change. This is something you will have to accept. Now, run away.'
'You're not listening to me.' She sent him a disappointed look and stood.
'May I ask one last question?' she asked. Snape inclined his head. 'How can I make you happy?'
Snape frowned slightly, and thought for a moment. 'That isn't what should concern you,' he eventually said, not looking at her. Hermione pressed her lips tightly together, but said nothing. She felt there wasn't anything to say.
***
The four who had been standing at the doorway silently looked at each other as first Hermione, then Snape exited the staff room. McGonagall raised her eyebrows silently.
'The bird and the whale,' Sirius said, as the four of them watched Snape and Hermione walk down the corridor. The two walked to the end of the corridor together, then parted without a word. Minerva looked at Sirius enquiringly, and he nodded in the direction of the disappeared pair. 'The song of the bird who fell in love with the whale,' he explained, and recited: 'He said, 'You cannot live in the ocean,'
And she said to him, 'You never can live in the sky,'
But the ocean is filled with tears
And the sea turns into a mirror
There's a whale in the moon when it's clear
And a bird on the tide.' He finished with a nod, as Professor Sprout broke into quiet applause.
'I never knew you were so poetic, Sirius,' Dumbledore said, as the four of them made their way back to the staff room. Sirius shrugged.
'It helps to charm the ladies,' he said with a grin, and was rewarded with a slap from Sprout.
'Why do you quote that particular story in relation to Severus and Hermione?' McGonagall asked, as they entered the staff room. She and Sirius made their way to the fireside while Albus and Poppy ventured toward the tea things.
'It's clear that Severus is never going to put the poor girl out of her misery,' Sirius said, shaking his head. 'Not that I don't understand his position. Hermione's not exactly helpless, but Snape's position...' He looked around uncomfortably. 'Well, he's not exactly the best man for a young witch to be dating. And he knows that, so he's keeping away from her. Smart, but...' He trailed off with a shrug and Minerva twinkled at him.
'I had no idea you were such a romantic at heart,' she teased, and was surprised to see Sirius blush.
'I may be a rogue, but I'm not a heartless one,' he said. 'And I listen to women.' He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Minerva shook her head with a smile.