Part 12 – A SECRET ADMIRER
and nothing but human lips become!
Severus Snape kept his promises.
Both of them.
For ten solid days, during the horrible period preceding the Christmas holidays, he posted Voldemort the latest news of the Order – and, true to his word to Dumbledore, he didn't lay a finger on Hermione.
He would have liked to start his seducing plans, but was unsure about what to do. He couldn't start to send her flowers, after all. He decided to ignore her, postponing any projects till she was his.
And she would be his. Sometimes he wondered what he should do with her once the spell was broken. Would it be safe to send her back to Hogwarts? Would she want to? Snape really hoped that she wasn't one of those silly girls mixing up sex with love – the last thing he needed was to be loved by her.
The last he deserved too, probably.
One step at a time, he thought, breathing hard, whenever this confusing feeling occurred.
On her part, Hermione, after five years of denial, had come to Ron's conclusion: Snape was a very sick man. He was aroused by sixteen-year old students, but he refused to be kind to them; he refused to look at them; he still fucking refused to say a single word about a counter-spell against the blondying charm. Not that she'd asked, of course.
She was too scared to – she'd finally surrendered. She'd started to stay away from Malfoy and to quietly hate Snape, in a fierce Weasley sort of way.
But there were times when cold logic was stronger, and Hermione stole glances of him pacing swiftly in his classroom, and she wondered what he knew, and why he wouldn't tell her. Why he wouldn't look at her.
What Hermione couldn't understand, was that Snape couldn't bear to have his eyes on her; every single time, he saw her body naked under his, and he heard Cynthia's voice shift from amusement to terror.
Where are you going down there?
Oh, Sevvy...I don't think I'm ready...
I really don't think I'm ready...
Sevvy, please stop.
Stop. Please.
Please.
No.
Noo.
Noooooo!
At that point, he pinched his flesh through his robes and forced himself to glare at Neville.
But some minutes later, the memory started to play again in front of his eyes.
And he was supposed to teach at the same time. Hopefully not for long. Only five more days till Christmas, and if all went well he was not coming back for the summer term.
The game was played.
The last day of term finally dawned on them, snowy and stormy.
Hermione went down to breakfast with Harry and Ron, lecturing them about how they should schedule their homework during the Christmas holidays. As they reached the Great Hall they were greeted by four gigantic posters, one over each table, decorated in lurid Christmas colours.
« Oooh! » squealed Lavender on their right, « A last-minute Christmas Party! »
Harry and Ron groaned, and Hermione, out of instinct, glanced up to the High Table. Dumbledore had a mistletoe branch tied around his hat, and Snape looked surlier than ever.
This made her smile.
« What are you smiling about? » asked Ron grumpily from her right side.
Blushing, Hermione looked around wildly for something to say. Somehow she didn't think that Professor Snaoe is too cute when he's angry was something she was allowed to say. To Ron Weasley, of all people.
As her eyes checked quickly the staff table, she beamed in relief.
« Professor Lupin is back, » she said, truly happy.
« What ? » said Harry, knocking over his pumpkin juice to look up at him.
Lupin waved at him, smiling at the mess slowly creating on the Gryffindor table: the juice had spread on the bread, which had been pushed away hastily by Parvati, whose movement had unsettled Dean, who'd been loading scrambled eggs on his plate – Harry interrupted his wave and rose to his feet with a start as a substance no longer recognizable as food started to drop on his robes.
« What is he doing here? » he asked, trying to clean himself.
Hermione looked around herself warily.
« Order's business, » she whispered.
Ron nodded.
« What else? »
After breakfast the three of them went to meet Lupin, who was heading for the Entrance Hall. Before they could reach him, they found themselves in Snape's way, and he stopped to look down contemptuously at them.
Lupin stopped too, and stood there, transfixed – Harry was so like James, now, he would possibly outgrow Snape and himself in a year or two. And the way the two of them glared at each other...Lupin shuddered of fear and, to his disgust, anticipation.
Then Snape shifted his glare from Harry to Hermione, and bored his dark eyes in hers during a very long minute – a too long minute. Lupin saw Hermione look back at him, her chin set, a slight blush on her cheeks, but it was Harry's face which decided him to move.
Hermione can take care of herself, he said firmly to himself, But Harryand Snape...that's a catastrophe waiting to happen.
Only a moment later, he was closing his hand on Harry's shoulder, but Snape was already gone.
« What – oh, hi, Professor Lupin! » said Harry, turning round.
« Harry, » said Lupin, shaking his hand, « Ron – Hermione. »
He nodded at them, then bent slightly forward.
« I need a word with you, Harry. Say, tonight afetr dinner? »
« Of course, » was the bemused answer. « Where- »
« You'll find me in the Entrance Hall. People will probably rush to and fro, making ready for the ball, nobody will notice – you don't need to go back to your dormitory and change, do you? » asked Lupin, teasingly, and Harry made a brave effort to smile and shook his head.
The morning was quiet; Professor Binns reminded them of the Christmas homework as the girls chatted about the party and the boys gazed vaguely into space. Hermione looked around scornfully and wrote in a careful, round writing, How many rooms the castle has? Check the British Library on her parchment.
It will be difficult to convince Molly Weasley, she tought, looking through Professor Binns at the blackboard.
They were staying at Grimmauld Palace for Christmas – the whole Weasley family was living there, as it was way safer than the Burrow, and Hermione had the impression that they would be compelled to stay inside the house for the whole time. There was good reason for that, of course – Lucius Malfoy, for one, was constantly in London – Hermione was almost sure that it was he who was behind Draco's attack on her. Worse: a bored survey of the landscape from the library window had established that she'd been well outside the grounds when Draco had stunned her –a Death-Eater could have Apparated and Disapparated with her in no more than five seconds.
If Snape hadn't been there...
The bell rang, and she, Harry and Ron headed back to the Great Hall to lunch, only to discover that Professor Flitwick and a very angry-looking Filch had spent the morning to put on Christmas decoration for the Party.
« Well, at least we don't have to invite some girl, » Harry mumbled, sitting down.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
« Just because you dont have to, doesn't mean you can't. Girls like that. »
« Yeah? And whom am I supposed to invite? Cho? » he replied angrily.
« Why not Ginny? » she whispered, looking at him. « She isn't going out with anyone at he moment, you know. »
Harry looked down the table at Ginny and blushed, while Ron started to smile.
« Next-of-kin, pass the bread! » he said, and Harry scowled at him.
At that moment, Neville got to his feet and stopped by them, looking nervous.
« I'll be waiting for you in the Common Room, then, » he said to Hermione, and, without waiting for her answer, he ran off.
Ron stared at her, and Hermione had the grace to blush.
« Well, he asked me first, didn't he? And I couldn't go with him two years ago, after all. »
She quickly finished her pumpkin juice and went off to Arithmancy.
Snape watched her go, curling his lips.
Maybe tonight...
Lupin had spent the afternoon pouring over some old parchements, trying to translate them in a language which wouldn't resemble Troll, but his efforts were vain – mainly because he was thinking about Harry, and what he should tell him.
When a knock broke the silence of the staff room, Lupin jumped slightly.
« It's open, » he said, and was surprised to see Harry stepping awkwardly inside.
He checked his watch – he hadn't realised that it was so late already. All of a sudden, he didn't want to have this conversation at all.
« Good evening, Professor Lupin, » said Harry, taking a seat.
Lupin smiled at him.
« Good evening, » he answered. « I'm sorry to distract you from the feast. »
« No problem, » said Harry, and waited for him to start.
Lupin took a deep breath.
« I just wanted to tell you – I happened to witness your er… meeting with Snape today, at lunch, and I wanted to say that – that probably you didn't behave very well. He's your teacher, after all. »
Harry felt his mouth open. Lupin – Lupin telling him –
« I know you don't like him, Harry. But he's on our side. And he values respect more than anything else – probably because he got so little of it in the past. »
« Yeah, well, as I can imagine the difficult life he led as a Death Eater! » cried Harry disgusted, raising to his feet. « Not a friendly place, Voldemort's circle, is it? »
« Harry – please. »
Harry sat down again, breathing hard. Lupin looked right in his eyes.
« We're at war, Harry. It's a good time as any to grow up. I don't care if he's done mistakes, I don't care if he's nasty – you're better than he is, you can be respectful to him and trust him. »
Harry blushed slightly but made a soft, disbelieving noise.
« There are so few of us. Unless we trust each other, we're never going to win. »
Harry waited for something else, but nothing come. Unwilling to answer, he mumbled a farewell and went back to the Great Hall, feeling contrasting emotions about te short interview.
Was Lupin right ? Was he, Harry, putting himself and others in innecessry danger by refusing to trust Snape, simply because he was a greasy git?
He was so deep in thought, he nearly bumped into Ron, who turned as to say hello.
« Does she fancy him? » he said instead, his eyes glued to Hermione and Neville as they tried to dance on a rapid, violent music.
Neville? Don't be stupid. You should have asked her, you know. You're getting ridiculous, thought Harry. Instead, he said,
« Dunno. I don't think so. »
He hadn't invited Ginny, but he was determined to wait for a slower music and ask her to dance with him. She was not bad-looking...and she was almost as normal as Hermione was, he had never seen her worried about clothes or stuff...
After his fourth Butterbeer, the Stinking Skeletons started to play a slow tune with sickening sweet words. As he was getting to his feet, a movement towards the High Table made him stop.
Dumbledore had invited Professor McGonagall, and the two of them were stepping into the crowd. Lupin, who'd probably taken some secret entrance, was gallantly bowing to a seventh-year girl Harry didn't know. And Snape...Snape had stopped in front of Hermione and was quietly speaking to her.
A strangled gasp behind him told that Ron had seen them too. Placing a hand on Ron's arm, he gritted his teeth as Snape placed his own hand on Hermione's waist.
« What the hell does he think he's doing? » spat Ron, looking at them.
« Cute, isn't it? » said a dreamy voice on his left.
Harry and Ron turned around, and saw Luna Lovegood gazing through the crowd. She was wearing a robe which seemed to be made of Niffler's furs badly sewed togheter.
« I mean, he and Lupin are the only young teachers, aren't they? You can't expect them to spend all evening with old Professor Vector, now, can you? »
When the boys didn't reply, she took firmly Ron's hand and started to pull.
« Let's dance, Ronald, » Harry heard her say, as Ron followed her hopelessly.
Hermione felt very uneasy.
Snape was a good dancer; he was gently stirring her to and fro, and his hands had the right pressure on her back. Nonetheless, something didn't sound right.
He didn't say a word to her during the whole song, apparently happy to hold her and glare into the distance.
She quickly released him when the song ended; he looked briefly down at her, then went back to the High Table. Hermione saw Professor McGonagall moving towards him, looking furious – and a matching look was on Harry's and Ron's faces as they came towards her.
Feeling too shaky to survive an argument with them, she fled the Great Hall, and ran all the way to the Gryffindor Tower.
She stopped only after arriving in her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.
She kneeled down to pat Crookshanks, who was unwisely sitting too close to the rug, and took her wand out to light a fire.
Crookshanks stood up and went to pace closer to the ashes, sniffing them and then looking up at her expectantly.
« What is it, Crooky? Have you been cold? » she said, absent-mindedly. « Come on now, step away. »
When the cat refused to move, she looked more closely at the rug. And she frowned. Over the ashes and the half-burned wood of the previous night there was a faint green powder.
Floo powder, she thought.
« Is this it, Crookshanks? Someone was here? »
The cat purred, and Hermione got to her feet and started to look around the room. She was expecting one of Malfoy's lousy jokes, even though she knew that Prefects weren't allowed to use the Floo network. She was ready to comb the whole room looking for hints, but she hadn't to look long.
Right on her pillow lied a folded piece of parchement.
As she was moving towards it, Parvati and Lavender came in.
« Ooh, what is it, Hermione? » squealed Lavender. « A secret admirer? »
The girls stared hungrily as she unfolded the paper with trembling hands.
It wasn't signed, but the black, spidery writing was unmistakeable.
According to Headmaster Godefroy of Wales, Hogwarts castle has 984 rooms. However, an accurate study should include the new ones resulting from the restaurations of 1812 (I believe Tutt's article will be useful on this) and, of course, the Chamber of Secrets.
Parvati moved forwards, but Hermione took a step back.
« It's from Professor McGonagall. Prefect's duties. »
As Lavender was looking unconvinced, she added impatiently, « Come on, you know boys are not allowed in our dormitory. What were you expecting? »
« Maybe something from Snape, » said Lavender.
« You two were so sweet, » added Parvati, amused.
« Oh, shut up. »
Hermione took her pyjamas from under the pillow, and she heard Parvati and Lavender follow her example as they chatted about Seamus' new haircut.
But when the room went dark, Hermione couldn't sleep. She kept seeing Professor Snape moving in the shadows, coming out from the green flames, approaching her bed, placing his hand on her pillow...
He surely gave it to an House Elf, said a reasonable voice in her head.
She squashed it.
She was sure he had been there, and she could actually smell his exotic scent on her pillow – a mixture of fires and musk.
House-elves don't use the Floo network, said her logical part.
Apparently, her whole brain was conspiring against her.
She still felt his hands on her waist, and she thought again about him laying on the top of her in the snow – and all of a sudden she was wondering what he would have done if she had been in her room when he had brought the note.
Girlish thoughts, romantic sceneries and saucy images went to and fro in Hermione's mind as she drifted into oblivion.
A/N Hi everyone, sorry, I was in the train again…busy period, but won't last! Thank you to Natsuory, rainbow fuzzlez and Nore.
Portia – wow, have I found a Wilde fan? Ca we exchange his signed photos and underwear, lol? Thank you again, hope you still enjoy…
Aries1, looks bad from where I'm standing…but let's hope…
duj, thank you! Gollum? Gollum! After reflexion, I did prefer the One Ring…
deather, that's an interesting theory for canon Snape…from an abusive father to a fake abusive father, I'd say…yes, nothing goes right for him…sobs…
Next update, March 5th
