Affinity

Blue Drgnfly

All Hail the Edited Prologue!

This is my look at how a relationship between Severus/Hermione could come to pass while she is still in school. It takes place in her seventh year and she is 18 (Rowling has finally confirmed she was 'almost 12' at the beginning of her first year) and therefore has been a legal adult in the wizarding world for over a year (Rowling states that the legal wizarding age is 17, in which you get your Apparation license ect…) But anywho, I'm rambling! This was supposed to be an introspective one-shot, but the plot bunnies decided otherwise. It is now mapped out to be around 15 Chapters long. Enjoy!

I do not own Harry Potter, if I did, this would be published… and the series would be much more :ahem: Adult. All rights belong to JK Rowling and numerous other people that are exponentially richer than I.

Now On With the Show!

Prologue

The Thread of Fate

Fate, it would seem, had a sense of humor darker than his own – for what other reason would he find himself time and time again, thrown together with the one most annoying, enigmatic, unobtainable person in the whole of the world?

He felt the affinity, the strange connection between his person and her own, long ago – when any thought of seeking her out was disturbing, amoral, and altogether a Bad Idea. So, as years of training had taught him to suppress desires, emotions – things that marked a being as human – he had smothered the spark of interest, the yen he felt for her. Years spent rebuking her – trying desperately to discourage interaction – yet, never able to kill the spark. That damned affinity. Of course, it was simply a case of like being drawn to like. He recognized her intelligence, her maturity – saw her ostracized for her differences – and felt the pull of connection. It was the acknowledgement of finding someone who might understand, when so few did, and wanting to seek them out. It was loneliness. Nothing more.

And so he willed it to fade, becoming a splinter trapped in his mind, dull and slowly festering. Of course, it helped when she found companionship – it lessened the bittersweet pull, the ache, to see something so painfully like his own experience. However, it seemed that even her choice of friends drew her back to him, causing him to constantly interact with her, in class, in the halls, on the weekends… Fate had paired her with the one person in the school he was obligated to protect.

So, he resigned to pushing her away with cruelty – something he was quite used to. He snarled at her intelligence, ridiculed her determination, criticized her friends, and scoffed at her appearance. It did little to ease the strange need to know her, but it did ensure one thing. She would never seek him out.

Years passed and he began to master the pull, forcing it into the back of his self-conscious, feeling its presence only when he caught a glimpse of her sparkling intelligence, or in the instances when she was caught up in danger. But Fate would not allow him rest. No, after years of ignoring and pushing it away – the affinity became something more substantial. It became a yearning, an ache. In her fourth year. At fifteen. He found himself repulsive, sinking lower into the depths of self-depreciation. He was the worst sort of person, a lecherous old fool. He blamed it on the affinity, the pull that had made him notice her intellect and, later, her beauty. He blamed it on loneliness. But it did not change what he had become. He hated himself.

Two years passed – and yet nothing had changed. Desperately, he threw himself into his duty, sinking into the corruption that had ruled over the majority of his life in atonement. He threw himself into danger. He deserved to die; he was despicable. But even his duties would not separate her from him, seeing as she was working for the same cause – although by different means. At the end of her sixth year, Fate had laughed, twisting the thread that connected the two, as the one reprieve from her presence was taken from him. She began to spend her summers with the Order. Seeing her constantly, her presence caused a sharp tug in the area that he once believed contained a heart.

It was over that summer before her seventh year that something changed. Despite his cruelty, his scathing remarks, and his indifference – she began to seek him out. Uncertain of her motives, he desperately tried to fend her off to no avail. No, he had learned long ago, that once her mind was set, there was no swaying her. As a man obsessed, he relished their confrontations, hating himself more for the pleasure her presence caused him.

And as the confrontations grew in frequency, the ache became something wholly more frightening than before. He desired her. Her friendship, her body, her comfort. And, in moments of bliss, when he was in her company, far from the role of teacher and student, he could almost forget the nature of their relationship, the age difference, and his responsibility. Almost.

In the dark hours of the night, he laughed at his delusion, imagining her revulsion if she ever knew his mind. Yet sometimes, when they were alone and talking quietly in the kitchens, or in the potions lab of Grimmauld Place, he felt the affinity and wondered if she felt it too. But it was only a further delusion. For she could never feel anything for someone so broken as him – discarded, tainted, depraved. A murderer. A turncoat. A bastard… the worst sort of person. So he had come to a resolve; when the summer came to an end, he would abandon their odd, fragile quasi-friendship, putting her permanently at arm's length.

But Fate had other plans. As her seventh year drew close, she, like many other talented students, put it upon herself to choose an Independent Advance Studies course in the field she wished to apprentice in. Potions. Appalled at the idea of spending a whole year in close proximity to her – alone – he had emphatically refused – fought, to keep her away. But Albus had intervened. And, as in all issues concerning the headmaster, he had complied. Despite all his efforts, he could not escape her.

A knock on the door pulled Severus from his reverie, his eyes traveling to the partially opened entrance where a slight figure stood, leaning against the doorjamb, hair in disarray as she gazed at him from the entranceway.

He sighed, smothering the ache in his chest, "Yes, Miss Granger?" His voice rang through the expanse – calm, cool, calculated.

Her fingers tapped against the doorframe lightly, eyes reflecting the light blazing from the window behind him, casting her in a golden light. She bit her lip thoughtfully, hesitating only momentarily before entering the room.

She paused a few feet from his desk, "Professor, I was wondering…"

An eyebrow rose, "About your independent study?" He read the affirmation in her eyes. "And you couldn't bring yourself to wait for an official acceptance letter from the headmaster?" he mocked, his voice not quite able to capture his usual rancor.

She blushed, "No, actually… acceptance letter? Does that mean that you've accepted?"

He stared at her silently, his hands resting under his nose, as he regarded her, her eyes shone with hope and something not quite definable. "Yes, Miss Granger. It would seem I am forced to endure your presence longer than I had originally anticipated."

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing with an exhaled breath. "Thank you, sir."

He nodded, the ache in his chest returning, causing him to bite his cheek to keep his expression clear.

Fate is a cruel bitch.

Author's Notes:

This chapter has a much more introspective tone than the rest of the story will have. This is partially because it was supposed to be a one-shot, and because I wanted to give the reader an in depth look into Severus' developing feelings over the span of seven years. Please Review! I would love some feedback for this fanfiction! Until next time…

Blue Drgnfly