A/N Thank you to the few who have reviewed my story. I really do
appreciate the insight, and will try to incorporate all your questions into
the story. I did outline this story somewhat before I started writing, but
I'm finding that my "muse" sometimes wants to take over and include other
things which I hadn't previously planned. As I've said before, this is my
first fanfic, and there have already been some minor changes. Please
continue to review, as I'm wide open for constructive criticism. Those of
you who don't like the story.. well.. quit reading... lol.
Chapter 3. Reunion
Hermione straightened up and grinned at the wall, then plastered on a sufficiently aggravated pout before she turned to greet her former professor. He stood there, pale as ever, with a stern look on his face, which softened somewhat at her appearance.
"Professor Snape, surely you remember that I couldn't possibly be in bed, since I no longer have one here in the school," she whined plaintively. At her tone, his expression soured.
"Miss Granger, please, spare me the sniveling," he groaned. " Apparently, you are unaware that, pathetic as it may have been, it was my attempt at a joke."
Hermione's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Why, Professor," she exclaimed. "I believe that is the FIRST time I have heard you try a joke. In all the years..." She stuttered to a stop, as he had suddenly done an about face and glided on down the corridor towards the classrooms.
Her shoulders slumped as she pursed her lips. She had known that Snape was being, in his own way, jovial, when he first spoke to her, but his temper had gotten the better of him. Evidently, he was out of practice with the art of banter.
"Professor," she called after him as she hastened to catch up with him. "Professor... please... wait... " she panted as he sped up. She clutched the amulet to herself as she pursued him.
"Dammit... SEVERUS!" she bellowed, completely forgetting that it was now past curfew. She slowed to a halt. She found herself just outside the Potions Lab, precisely where she had intended to go in the first place. She growled aggravatedly and approached the room. Suddenly, Snape's head popped through the door.
"Well? If you are here to help me then let's get on with it, Hermione," he sneered drawing each syllable of her name out, apparently hoping it would irritate her.
Instead, it calmed her. It reminded her of the years they had spent together working to counteract the curse that she had inadvertently placed on him. She had gotten to know her previously dreaded professor pretty well by working side by side with him, and had found him to be very like minded. He was quite intelligent, and in constant pursuit of new and better information, whether it had to deal with potions, the Dark Arts, or anything else for that matter. He had contented himself with creating and using various potions while he had been a teacher, so much so he had been able to write a textbook of Exotic Potions which was now used as learning material for the students of the higher years. Hermione also admired his acerbic wit, and sometimes had found herself in stitches with his droll observations of the current Potions professor and her classes. He never smiled, but every now and then, she had caught a gleam in his black eyes that usually led to some sort of "stunt", as Remus had put it, or a caustic remark that would cause his target some sort of befuddlement.
Hermione missed his company. She had long gotten used to the idea that she actually COULD miss him. During the first couple of years, especially when Harry, Ginny, and Ron had stuck around to help her, she had avoided him, due to the fact that she was highly embarrassed about the situation. But as her friends one by one had left to continue on with their lives, she had had to find someone to relate to, as many of the students she had known during her years as one of them were either all graduated, or getting ready to do so.
Most of the professors were still there, but some had been killed in the attack. One, the much loved Dumbledore, had literally lost his mind. Some Death Eater, probably that accursed Lucius Malfoy, had cast a rather powerful mind erasing spell, probably not even intended for the former headmaster. Dumbledore had simply gotten in the way and was unprepared. Some whispers, though, indicate that maybe he was "ready" for it in a totally different manner. They thought that maybe he was willing to take the fall as it was so close to the end of Harry's schoolyears and he was just plain tired.
In any case, Hermione missed the old mage. She had gone to visit him on occasion at the Home for Retired Wizards, and was happy to note that he, after years of care and rehabilitative magic, was able to remember much of his former life. He would never be as powerful again though, which, it seems, he was more than willing to accept.
"Less responsibilities, young Hermione. I don't mind resting for a bit," he had told her, eyes twinkling.
As she stood with her memories, Snape stuck his head through the door again and scowled at her. He was getting a little annoyed with the little wench, after she had left him for so many years. He had wandered the halls of the school for many months when he didn't have a class, just waiting out the torment that had befallen him.
He had begun to enjoy her at his side, watching her eyes dance at something he said, or even relishing her comfort when he had a moment of despair. Rarely had he been able to see a pupil turn into a young adult after they had graduated. She had done just that before his eyes, as she searched the Hogwarts library almost obsessively, or worked in the Potions Lab to create the countercurse. He had noticed that her moods had been a cycle of ups and downs, and towards the end of her stay, they had increasingly been on the downside. He knew that there was little he could do to help her, but apparently, that redheaded dunce could. He had pleaded with her not to leave, but inside he knew that if there was to be any hope for him at all, he had to have her alive, and at least moderately happy.
He was relieved to see that she was back, for more reasons than one. He may have needed her cure, but he found that he also needed ... her. He couldn't understand this odd attachment, but he had felt lighter when he had discovered her alone in the Hall. The heaviness of her absence had disappeared in an instant. Hence, the ill-timed joke. How beastly stupid that had sounded.
"Miss Granger? The hour is getting late," he reminded her.
Chapter 3. Reunion
Hermione straightened up and grinned at the wall, then plastered on a sufficiently aggravated pout before she turned to greet her former professor. He stood there, pale as ever, with a stern look on his face, which softened somewhat at her appearance.
"Professor Snape, surely you remember that I couldn't possibly be in bed, since I no longer have one here in the school," she whined plaintively. At her tone, his expression soured.
"Miss Granger, please, spare me the sniveling," he groaned. " Apparently, you are unaware that, pathetic as it may have been, it was my attempt at a joke."
Hermione's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Why, Professor," she exclaimed. "I believe that is the FIRST time I have heard you try a joke. In all the years..." She stuttered to a stop, as he had suddenly done an about face and glided on down the corridor towards the classrooms.
Her shoulders slumped as she pursed her lips. She had known that Snape was being, in his own way, jovial, when he first spoke to her, but his temper had gotten the better of him. Evidently, he was out of practice with the art of banter.
"Professor," she called after him as she hastened to catch up with him. "Professor... please... wait... " she panted as he sped up. She clutched the amulet to herself as she pursued him.
"Dammit... SEVERUS!" she bellowed, completely forgetting that it was now past curfew. She slowed to a halt. She found herself just outside the Potions Lab, precisely where she had intended to go in the first place. She growled aggravatedly and approached the room. Suddenly, Snape's head popped through the door.
"Well? If you are here to help me then let's get on with it, Hermione," he sneered drawing each syllable of her name out, apparently hoping it would irritate her.
Instead, it calmed her. It reminded her of the years they had spent together working to counteract the curse that she had inadvertently placed on him. She had gotten to know her previously dreaded professor pretty well by working side by side with him, and had found him to be very like minded. He was quite intelligent, and in constant pursuit of new and better information, whether it had to deal with potions, the Dark Arts, or anything else for that matter. He had contented himself with creating and using various potions while he had been a teacher, so much so he had been able to write a textbook of Exotic Potions which was now used as learning material for the students of the higher years. Hermione also admired his acerbic wit, and sometimes had found herself in stitches with his droll observations of the current Potions professor and her classes. He never smiled, but every now and then, she had caught a gleam in his black eyes that usually led to some sort of "stunt", as Remus had put it, or a caustic remark that would cause his target some sort of befuddlement.
Hermione missed his company. She had long gotten used to the idea that she actually COULD miss him. During the first couple of years, especially when Harry, Ginny, and Ron had stuck around to help her, she had avoided him, due to the fact that she was highly embarrassed about the situation. But as her friends one by one had left to continue on with their lives, she had had to find someone to relate to, as many of the students she had known during her years as one of them were either all graduated, or getting ready to do so.
Most of the professors were still there, but some had been killed in the attack. One, the much loved Dumbledore, had literally lost his mind. Some Death Eater, probably that accursed Lucius Malfoy, had cast a rather powerful mind erasing spell, probably not even intended for the former headmaster. Dumbledore had simply gotten in the way and was unprepared. Some whispers, though, indicate that maybe he was "ready" for it in a totally different manner. They thought that maybe he was willing to take the fall as it was so close to the end of Harry's schoolyears and he was just plain tired.
In any case, Hermione missed the old mage. She had gone to visit him on occasion at the Home for Retired Wizards, and was happy to note that he, after years of care and rehabilitative magic, was able to remember much of his former life. He would never be as powerful again though, which, it seems, he was more than willing to accept.
"Less responsibilities, young Hermione. I don't mind resting for a bit," he had told her, eyes twinkling.
As she stood with her memories, Snape stuck his head through the door again and scowled at her. He was getting a little annoyed with the little wench, after she had left him for so many years. He had wandered the halls of the school for many months when he didn't have a class, just waiting out the torment that had befallen him.
He had begun to enjoy her at his side, watching her eyes dance at something he said, or even relishing her comfort when he had a moment of despair. Rarely had he been able to see a pupil turn into a young adult after they had graduated. She had done just that before his eyes, as she searched the Hogwarts library almost obsessively, or worked in the Potions Lab to create the countercurse. He had noticed that her moods had been a cycle of ups and downs, and towards the end of her stay, they had increasingly been on the downside. He knew that there was little he could do to help her, but apparently, that redheaded dunce could. He had pleaded with her not to leave, but inside he knew that if there was to be any hope for him at all, he had to have her alive, and at least moderately happy.
He was relieved to see that she was back, for more reasons than one. He may have needed her cure, but he found that he also needed ... her. He couldn't understand this odd attachment, but he had felt lighter when he had discovered her alone in the Hall. The heaviness of her absence had disappeared in an instant. Hence, the ill-timed joke. How beastly stupid that had sounded.
"Miss Granger? The hour is getting late," he reminded her.
