THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
By: Scatterheart
"No matter what road you travel on, you seem to go through the darkest places." (PM Dawn)Section Twenty Two
And Hermione Granger did the last thing she expected to do. She ran. Not towards him, but down the same path from where she came, and it took her a while to become aware of the fact that she was running away from him; now that she could see him again for the first time in almost two weeks he seemed… changed, somehow.
Not visually. No, he still looked like he always did, still like a point-confiscating, rosebush-blasting git. But his aura, if he indeed possessed one, had grown so vibrant she could feel it even now, pulling, beckoning to her.
And Hermione was afraid to give in, for fear of what she might do once she got trapped inside.
She veered around a corner and slowed to a stop, flinging her back against the wall. She was panting, but it wasn't entirely from her excursions.
Merlin, what was wrong with her? He was just a man, and a particularly surly specimen at that. But she knew that she couldn't go near him anymore, just couldn't. During the preceding sixty seconds he had done absolutely nothing to her and yet he was so suddenly different in her eyes that…
And to think there had been a time when she had wanted to see him falter, wanted to see him miss a few days of school so that she could spend a class period chatting with friends. And now, if she had to endure the agony of seeing him suffer in sickness once more, she didn't know how she could ever survive again.
She almost laughed in disbelief.
Good Lord, Hermione, you're the one who has changed. Not Snape.
A tremendous feeling was swelling for him from the depths of her heart – what was it called? She struggled to attach a word to it – ah, she knew now; it was on the tip of her tongue…
And a silky voice crossly demanded, "Who has given you the privilege of running in the halls?"
Hermione snapped to her senses just as Professor Severus Snape appeared before her. "Ten points from – Miss Granger?" His hand clambered for a grip on a corner of the wall and his knuckles were white. "Oh, it's… you," he added, thickly, and cleared his throat. "Well… expected behavior from you."
"Professor."
They were silent.
He was standing quite close to her; his proximity confirmed what she had suspected: that he looked, acted and even smelled the same, despite his recent illness. But the aquiline angle of his nose and the lock of hair falling in front of his hazel eyes did not appear so distasteful to her as they once did… perhaps it was only a trick of the light.
They were still silent.
Someone should speak soon, Hermione thought, vaguely. This was not, well – normal – locking eyes with a person for so long, without talking or looking away.
"Miss Granger—"
"Professor Snape—"
Hermione was thoroughly flustered. She took a deep breath (also a bad idea, for now she was engulfed in his wonderful scent) and licked her parched lower lip. "I'm sorry. You first, Professor."
"No, you first, Miss Granger," he replied.
"I… well – the thing is… well, I mean… why me?"
Snape smiled. It was barely detectable and bordered on a smirk, but was undeniably a smile. "Because," he said, "of courtesy." The smile widened. "But I'm sure you've forgotten about that."
She couldn't resist. "Not at all. I'm glad you got something out of your stay in the infirmary, Professor."
"Pity for you it wasn't the Black Plague." And his smile curled into a firm frown. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for running in the halls, Miss Granger. You should know better than to create new rules for the school while I am away."
Well. She didn't know whether to be hurt by his caustic remark, or be relieved that he was retreating onto more familiar ground. "It's close to dinnertime, after all," she said.
"I take it that is why you're running away from the Hall, hmm?"
"You go on ahead. I'm not hungry."
"And I'm not stupid, Miss Granger," Snape whispered, darkly. He leaned in until his face was but centimeters away from hers.
"Whatever ideas are going through your mind, whatever scheme or plan," Hermione heard him mumble through the tornado storming in her ears, "I want you to get rid of them. Now." His gaze deepened with silent meanings. And then he turned and swept past her, the hem of his black robe brushing her ankle in a curt, unspoken goodbye.
Not yet, Hermione thought. She followed him.
It wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it was where her senseless feet carried her: after Professor Snape. He was tall; his stride was swift and she needed to almost jog before she fell into step beside him. Two passing Ravenclaws exchanged quizzical glances among themselves, and Snape barked at the two youngsters a venomous warning that sent them running for their lives.
"Look, the only thoughts that are going through my mind are questions. Who did this to you?" Hermione said under her breath as the Ravenclaws' footfalls quieted. "Who put Cruciatus on you?"
"Go away," Snape replied, quickening his pace.
"Aren't you going to dinner?"
"I refuse to dine with a school of dunderheads who are undoubtedly – disappointed – that my brush with death had merely been a brush."
"Where are you going, then?" she demanded.
He stopped and spun around so abruptly that Hermione had no time to gain her footing; she careened into him. His body was warm, hard, and his large and steady hands grabbed her upper arms. For a moment his cloak swirled around the both of them like a dark, musky envelope… and for that moment, time stood still and all Hermione could think about was holding onto him and diving into heated oceans.
And it was over as soon as it came, and Snape had pulled back until they were a safe distance apart. He sighed, "If you must know, Miss Granger, I am going to my room, where I plan to spend the evening alone. Therefore I suggest you go back to your friends, instead of experimenting to see how many points I can take from your house within the hour."
Friends. Bitterness welled into the rims of Hermione's eyes. It wasn't a topic she wanted to dwell on now, especially after Ron had…
She blinked rapidly several times, forcing down her anger. "Well, you see, I don't really have friends anymore."
"Use your own sound judgment, Miss Granger," Severus Snape said without any change in expression. "Now get out of my way." He sidestepped her, and left.
--
To be continued.
Note: Dear Goddess of Reviews, it wasn't my intention at all when I wrote that and no, I wasn't in the least bit offended! Hehe, bad thinking on my part. Anyway, thanks for reading.
Another Note: Yes, I'm still alive. Sorry for the lack of updates! I had college interviews and a Bowie concert to go to, and most importantly, I was struck with a severe case of Senioritis. (Translation from high school lingo: Now that first semester Senior year is over and grades don't matter anymore, I got really, really lazy.)