Chapter Nineteen: Of Eggs and Wizards Chess

Looking around the cramped space and listening to the sounds of shrieking from below (evidently the Trio had been reformed), Snape pinched the bridge of his nose irritably and came to suddenly realization that this was just the start of one agonizingly long summer.

The sunlight filtered into the small room of Ginny Weasley, and on the bottom bunk of her bed laid Hermione Granger, almost Head Girl with a sappy smile on her face as the light shone on her in a warming glow. Her lips were curved into a small smile and her eyes blinked a bit as the light creeped into them slowly.

It was a brand new day, a new day in which she would make the best of things. She was a new woman, one with a remarkably good attitude about her life. She somehow knew that the marriage would never go on and that she was worried about something that would never happen.

With that clarifying thought in mind she stood shakily, arching her back until it popped in protest. Yawning slightly she moved out of the room, sure not to wake the slightly snoring Ginny. Once last year she had made the fatal mistake of nudging the redhead and ended up on the receiving end of a pillow upside the head. No, Ginny Weasley was not a morning person.

On her way to the bathroom she looked out one of the large windows and noticed that it had to be early morning, the sunrise was still new. Also giving the time away was the slight morning chill that greeted her as soon as she escaped the confines of her current room.

After a few minutes of showering, dressing and fixing her hair, Hermione opened the door to the bathroom, a thin mist from the shower following her out into the silent hall. She titled her head for any detection of noise around her, waiting for any telltale signs. None.

She assumed everyone was exhausted and sleeping in, and supposed she should be as well but she couldn't. She wasn't though, the morning brought her out of her lasting depression and she was ready to face it. Plus as a diligent student Hermione had become accustomed to waking up early, even on vacation it was a hard cycle to break. She briefly wondered if Snape was still here, perhaps he'd gone back to Hogwarts in anger at Dumbledore?

If he hadn't, she was going to be mature about all of this. She would be civil and see things from Snape's side. He too was caught in the middle of this mess, he too was suffering from the painful realization that he was currently engaged but unlike her he seemed to bask in solitude. One thing was for certain; Hermione was going to make the best of this and if Snape wanted to be a rude prat he could do so within the confines of his own room.

At this she looked to her left at the large door where behind Snape possibly slept. Probably in his robes too. She never saw the man in anything else. Even though the room had once belonged to Fred and George as she passed it now, knowing Snape was in the room made her wary.

She felt the early morning chill once more around her and wondered if she should race back upstairs and grab a sweater. She had chosen jeans that rolled up just below her kneecaps and a red t-shirt whilst her unruly hair hung in waves around her head.
She didn't care to wake anyone and so with careful precision made her way down the not-so creaking staircase, thinking to herself how good some eggs would taste.

It was at that moment that Hermione heard a small sound, shuffling and she stopped, pressing herself against the wall that lead to the kitchen. Hermione had once read somewhere that facial expressions were actually useful. For instance when one is frightened, their eyes go wide to take in all their surroundings. Right now, Hermione's eyes were as big as saucer plates and her heart was thumping painfully.

Voldemort.

That was the only thought that came into her mind. Voldemort was here to get her and Snape and kill everyone else. She had lead Voldemort and all his horrible ilk to the Burrow. Suddenly a shrill sounded startled her, the sound of a kettle boiling.

Oh yes Hermione, Voldemort's here and he's making himself a nice cup of tea before coming up to slaughter you all.

She felt immense relief flood her and a small smile pasted itself along her lips. She was safe here at the Burrow, and in the worst of times; with Snape. Had he not saved her from the horrid Voldemort? He had indeed risked his life to save them both, a detail she had forgotten in the throes of misery.

Now feeling better and much more at ease she walked into the kitchen in hopes of a nice breakfast...As soon as she walked in however, she instantly wished she hadn't.

Snape stood with his back to her, and was currently dipping his teabag into the steaming mug in front of him on the counter. She was dumbstruck with agitation as she silently watched him, his precise fingers working like that of a complex potion. What was he doing up so early?

She wondered if it would be a better plan to just head back up to bed, wait until Ginny arose and then they could all venture down to breakfast. Alone with Snape was not what she had in mind. She was willing to be more open-minded with him in the future, but the future had come much too soon. She hadn't seen him since he left in a huff up to his room the night before, and she hadn't really minded.

Sadly, just as she had resolved to go back up to bed Snape had turned around slowly, the tea in one hand and the Daily Prophet in the other. He was headed to the kitchen table to place down his mug when he viewed someone in the doorframe and stopped. His inky black eyes ran up her body to her face, as she stood ashen, looking at him with worry clearly written in her eyes.

He sneered at her a moment, wondering on earth why she'd be up so early, and why she had decided to come down to the kitchen of all places. He thought teenagers liked to sleep in. He furrowed his brows intensely, worried at the prospect that his normally quiet mornings would be habitually shattered.

Hermione felt her blood going cold, and she let the jolting shock register that it was indeed Professor Snape in the kitchen, drinking tea and glaring at her whilst wearing his ridiculous robes of his, ridiculous on account of the weather.

His gaze drifted on her a moment before searching her face for some possible reasoning to her silent staring and she felt a flush go all over her at the thought of him sizing up her body. She had never been a big fan of her body, it was normal she supposed, nothing to get all worked up about. She had always wondered what the point of a knockout body was when you were stupid. She had always preferred brains to beauty, in all aspects of her life.

But now she felt a small blush rise to her cheeks and instantly wished she had been wearing her own robes. A stupid fancy indeed, but she realized Professor Snape had never seen her in anything but her uniform, and now in the confining kitchen with his predatory glare she desperately wished she had worn something else. Suddenly her mouth began quivering and she said the only thing she could think of.

"Good morning Professor."

Is it? He wanted to ask, and his first inclination was to tell her to stop gaping at him and to sod off, but that would prove to be his undoing. He had resolved last night that he would try to be kinder to the little tw- to Granger.

He had tried to see things from her point of view, and had just settled on the fact that she was mad about whatever bothered teenagers these days. Her emotional stability wasn't really a concern, although on afterthought he supposed it should be. And so instead of being explicitly rude to the girl standing a few inches away, he did the one thing he believed to be proper at the current point in time. He answered.

"Good morning Miss Granger."

Not sure of what else to say Hermione relied on her instincts which told her Snape wasn't exactly overjoyed to see her, especially this early in the morning. She shifted from foot to foot a moment before glancing at him quickly once more as he sat at the table with his tea as she walked over to the other side of the kitchen to the stove. With a small swish of her wand and incantation later there appeared a pan on the large stove along with two eggs.

Snape hearing the clattering of suddenly appearing pans glanced over with agitation at the noise. As if feeling his eyes upon her, the noise quieted as much as she could muster. Snape couldn't help but feel a bit intrigued at the fact that she was trying to be civil; perhaps she'd grown up out of that feeling sorry for herself rut.

He went back to his paper intently, sipping his tea as the only sounds in the kitchen became the sizzling of eggs and the sipping of tea. It didn't take long for the delectable scent of Hermione's egg's to come over to him, taking him by surprise as he read the paper deliberately ignoring her. He could only be civil for so long.

He heard his stomach growl and coughed loudly to cover it, willing down the flush that had accompanied the resounding growl. Hermione though, noticing something was amiss looked over her shoulder to her Professor, a perplexed look on her face.

He was ignoring her, that much was evident and she wondered in a curious way if he was hungry. Had he eaten before? She doubted it. Was he just going to have tea? Did he not know his way around the Weasley's kitchen?

Maybe I shou-

"Would you care for an egg or two Professor?"

At certain times in her life Hermione could be a know-it-all who overanalyzed everything. But at other times she could be so quick to speak that reason seemed to take a backseat. This was one of those times.

The question hung in the air awkwardly, and as it rang over and over in her head she winced at the sound of her voice. Strangled, high pitched and nervous. The thought of making Severus Snape breakfast had thrown her off.

She should have known he'd decline by the scowl that had suddenly appeared on his features, but trying to make the best of things she had flashed him the brightest Gryffindor smile she could muster and look to him expectantly.

Snape didn't answer at first, knowing full well he could have just snapped a rude, "NO!" had her in tears and running out of the kitchen which he could have had all himself. Instead he had favored the idea of getting back in Dumbledore's good graces by being civil to the little brat. Sadly his ego couldn't take the prospect of Hermione Granger making him breakfast, it was all too uncomfortable.

"I'm not hungry." came the smooth reply before his onyx eyes were back on the paper and Hermione's face went a slight shade of pink at the rejection. It didn't matter all that much to her, after all he just wasn't hungry. She continued to stare at him a moment even after he'd gone back to reading the paper with a curious look in her dark eyes.

She went rigid then, a bit perturbed at Snape's quick reply and a little offended at the way he had looked at her with such contempt. Going against all her predisposed ideas of civil kindness she gave Snape a harsh look of disgust.

Sadly, just as she had done so he happened to glance up, (having felt her eyes boring into him) and catch her in the act. Raising a dark eyebrow skyward he narrowed his eyes at her with exasperation.

"If you don't mind Miss Granger," he said silkily, "I am trying to read a rather interesting article and your glowering and carrying on across the room is proving to be quite the distraction."

Hermione turned a slight blush, turning around and ignoring the statement as Snape shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation. He'd gone across the one oath he had made to himself; be civil to her. He was furious at the fact that she had managed in one foul swoop to take away the one thing that he had always assumed he'd been the master of. His self control.

Why had she been glaring at him? Hadn't he been nice enough to say, "I'm not hungry" in place of, "I wouldn't eat anything from a little brat like you, not even if I were starving and your eggs were the last food on earth, so kindly piss off, stop grinning at me and leave me alone!"

No. He'd been civil and she'd thrown it in his face. He made a face at her back and went back to his paper all the time wondering what provoked a strange girl like that.

With bored contemplation Snape's thoughts drew to; how could one understand a teenage girl? The only logical prospect was that one must think like one. With this idea in his head Snape looked to the paper, not really reading it and narrowed his eyes in concentration and began.

Alright...I'm a seventeen year old girl. I'm too clever for my own good, and I'm always getting into trouble to assist that stupid, moron- Potter. I'm quite bossy, my voice gets shrill when I'm nervous and I aggravate everyone when I shove my hand up in the air like the know-it- when I brag...I sneak into classes to steal from my Professor's storages just so I can s- so that from my point of view I may help Potter...I have unusually large hair and teeth. I am fairly good in Potions and I was going to be Head Girl until I got engaged to my Professor...

Hmmm....he frowned, suddenly realizing just what could have been ailing Miss Granger the last few days and he couldn't really blame her. With that interesting thought in mind he went back to his paper.

Hermione meanwhile had finished with her things, placing the finished eggs onto a plate and waving the excess objects away with a swoosh of her wand. She looked at the food with indifference, knowing full well she could have done better, but under the strain of Snape's presence, scrambled would have to do.

She was halfway to the table when she stopped as if she'd been stung. Where was she to sit? With Snape? That was a laugh. Panic suddenly hit her and she contemplated eating up in her room, would it be obvious she was too nervous to sit with him? Would he be thankful at her absence? Woul-

"Are you just going to stand there all morning?" Snape said with as minimal malice as he could muster. He wasn't looking up from the paper as he spoke; he seemed engrossed in it as he continued. "The table is large enough to facilitate both our needs."

The words were low and laced with something formidable, and it took her a good few seconds to fully understand he was offering her a seat. She went pale a moment, nodding to no one in particular and then placing her eggs on the table she chose the chair the farthest away from him across the table,(Which in fact wasn't as far as hoped.).

She was about to say thank you when she clamped her mouth shut. What would she be thanking him for? He was just as much a guest as she was, and noting the way he raised the paper to block out her face she felt little anxiety over her choice.

Snape continued reading the paper, all the time tuned into the way she had reluctantly accepted his overly kind offer, and was now sullenly eating her eggs whilst probably relieved that they weren't talking.

In truth Hermione had had motivation behind her offering of breakfast. She had wanted to probe that brain of his perhaps over a filling breakfast. Obviously this was not to be, she'd be stuck with conversations of Quidditch and schemes to humiliate Malfoy all the time wishing she was in the library.

Whilst Harry may not want to play wizards chess (even though it was barbaric, at least it was challenging.) and explore the Library, Snape surely would. The mental comparison was gone in a fleeting moment as Hermione merely wished for a stimulation conversation on occasion, something that Snape was evidently not prepared to offer and something she was not about to ask for.

She snuck a glance at him as she chewed her eggs quietly, trying desperately not to vex him. Sitting this close to him, level was quite intimidating. He still towered over her even when sitting and she was thankful that the paper he held was covering his face. She didn't think she could handle him sipping tea and staring at her.

Before she could even consider if this was the right course of action, or if what she was about to do would only further widen the gap between them she timidly spoke whilst looking to her breakfast plate.

"Professor?"

There was a bout of silence before a small grunt of a reply was heard behind the paper, giving Hermione the courage to talk to him almost face to face.

"Do you enjoy Wizards Chess?"

Slowly the paper was lowered at one corner, enough for one black eye to stare at her from behind it. He seemed to be taking her into consideration; one well-placed brow was raised and lowered in contemplative interest. Was she offering to engage in a game? How should he proceed?

As if she were outside her own body Hermione suddenly felt the need to smile at him again, show him that she wasn't being a nuisance and that she wasn't trying to trick him. This seemed to be an odd course of action for as soon as she had smiled broadly at him he'd gotten a peculiar look on his face as he stared rather pointedly at her pearly whites.

Merlin's beard, her teeth have shrunk!

Snape in a sudden gesture of kindness had been about to indulge Hermione's query with an answer when he had been distracted by her teeth.

Evidently over the course of Granger's duration at Hogwarts after his ill-fated comment of "I see no difference." he had greatly upset the girl, spurning her to change her teeth. They were normal sized now, giving her a sunnier smile (one that he'd never been privy to) and the end result was his staring.

Hermione though, taking it the wrong was as usual had a horrid flash back to her fourth year and slammed her mouth shut. He viewed as a small pinkish blush arose on her cheeks and she went silent.

I was only trying to be polite...What's he bloody well staring at? He hasn't the most lovely teeth himself...

Seeing the young girl's awkward nature now he was about to inform her that he'd been thunderstruck by her teeth when there was a sudden noise from behind them as Harry stumbled into view, his hair in disarray over his bright eyes and the look they'd been sharing was broken.

Hermione looked to Harry with a strange look upon her features, one that Snape couldn't help but be confused by. Suddenly growing flustered as she looked to the two of them Hermione suddenly stood, almost knocking her chair over in the process as Harry stared at her.

"Erm...have a nice day Professor. Perhaps we can talk about chess another day." Hermione sputtered, looking to him before heading back up the stairs and brushing past Harry roughly. Snape and Harry exchanged matching looks of hatred before the-boy-who-lived-to-be-his-torment rushed up the stairs calling after Hermione.