Chapter 8 – Some Things You Never Knew
Snape had to laugh. The irrationality of the situation had returned. He was sitting with Miss Granger pouring out old hurts. He made a hasty decision that he was never going to drink ever again. Underneath the bruised ego of his stoic self, he had to admit that he felt better. He also had to admit that he was undoubtedly impressed with Miss Granger. A question occurred to him.
"Did you just call me Severus?"
"What? Oh, well…," she paused. "It felt more personal." She smiled bashfully. "I mean, you've seen my feet naked."
He smiled back, "That is a good point."
The mantle clock chimed eleven. Snape realized he was probably monopolizing her time. "It is late and I have kept you long enough." He rose to allow her to go unhindered. The sudden movement jarred his senses, forcefully reminding him just how much he had had to drink.
She looked surprised. "Late? Oh, I'm sorry. You would rather be getting to bed…" She trailed off as she stood as well.
They both stood facing each other mere inches apart. He could feel her breath through his shirt and smell the subtle perfume of her hair.
She had just started to turn toward the door when he said, "Wait."
What was he doing! He should want her to go. He had already made a fool of himself, why prolong the torture, but he truly did not want her to leave.
"Now that I have plied you with alcohol, might I offer you a cup of tea?" he asked.
She hesitated. "That would be lovely." She smiled before adding, "When I stood a moment ago, I was surprised I didn't fall right back down."
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While Snape was fussing with the tea, Hermione reflected. She was glad he asked her to stay. She was only going to go because she thought she was imposing.
She could not believe he had said all those things. He really had not said anything, but she knew what he was trying to say, what he obviously needed to say. She felt comforted that he trusted her with that.
Snape returned to his chair while she remained on the end of the couch nearest him. He handed her a steaming mug. It smelled beautifully spicy.
After taking a sip she said, "This is incredible."
He smiled, "I am the potions master."
She laughed. A moment of silence passed. Snape broke the stillness.
"I understand you have been busy in the years since you left Hogwarts. Minerva has kept me informed."
"Has she? Yes, let me see. There was school, then school, and then more school. As you can see," she motioned to the castle above her, "I can't seem to get away from it."
He laughed, "Apprenticeship really is not school. It is a practical application of your knowledge."
"So you're my boss rather than my Professor," she observed.
"Yes, that is one way of looking at it. You aren't graded, just supervised. They don't want to risk you killing anyone if it turns out that you don't possess the talent. For you, really, it's a formality."
"What do you mean?" she inquired.
He snorted. "You're unmistakably talented or they would never have placed you with me. I made quite a name for myself at Greybring. They know better than to send me just anyone."
She was intrigued. "You went to Greybring?"
"Yes, many years ago. Professor Miers always hated me. I used to correct him in front of the class."
Hermione was flabbergasted. "I did the same thing!"
Laughing, Snape asked, "He's still teaching?"
"Oh yes and still as scatterbrained as ever. If I hadn't stopped him from putting the belladonna essence into the Vida Sera…"
"He could have killed you all," Snape interjected.
"And the ungrateful old bat had the nerve to say he was going to do it on purpose to teach us a lesson. I asked him exactly what poisoning us all was supposed to prove."
Snape smiled curiously. "What did he say?"
She laughed, "He said, 'At least you would never make the same mistake again.' Yes, it certainly would be hard to make that same mistake after we were all dead."
Snape laughed, "You must have sounded exactly like me. I bet that drove him crazy."
"Glad to hear it."
Snape pulled her cup across the table to refill it. She watched his strong hands with the long, agile fingers as they moved deftly about their work. She allowed herself to wonder for a moment what those hands would be like…
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"Do you see much of Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?" he asked.
"Only on the holidays. They're busy with their work and their girlfriends. They write regularly. I guess we've just moved on." She let the sentence hang.
Snape thought back to what she'd said earlier.
"Time truly does change us," he said. "Imagine how boring life would be if all remained as it were. The same petty conversations, repeated day after day. It would become positively mind numbing."
Her eyes were burning into his again. He had the unsettling sense that she could see more than just his eyes.
"That is so true. So many people seem to carry on unaffected, as though they can't see past the guile, the insignificance--the insincere pleasures that give you nothing in return. They don't appreciate--they don't listen. They spend so much time stumbling around in the white noise that fills their ears that they become deaf to all else. I think if some of them would stop for just one moment, they might hear just how soothing silence can be. Everything is so much more meaningful in the silence, in what goes unsaid." She took a sip of tea. "Does that even make any sense?"
"It makes perfect sense."
Her perception affected him. She had put some of his own thoughts into words. He had greatly underestimated this woman.
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm just self-absorbed," she stated, "if I'm the one being unappreciative. Although, I don't think I should feel guilty for wanting something more."
He could hear the underlying sadness in her voice. He said, "There is no guilt in being who you are. Too many waste their lives wishing they were someone else when they could have been so much happier being themselves."
"I like that. Who said that one?" She asked with a smile.
"I did."
She looked away from him and into the fire. The flames danced across her face, accentuating the smooth lines. He had an unbelievable urge to sit next to her, be near her. He spent the next few seconds wrestling with that impulse.
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Staring at the fire, she became aware that after her second cup of tea, she really did need to use the facilities. Deciding he was probably ready for her to leave, she looked over to find him studying the ceiling. Taking this as a clue that he was ready to be alone, she rose from her seat.
"Thank you for the tea and the conversation. I really should be getting to bed."
Looking startled but mildly relieved, he stood with her.
"You've had a long day."
"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked as she walked toward the door.
"Of course," he answered, walking with her.
When they reached the door, she turned to find him standing directly in front of her. She could feel his heat radiating to her with the scent of cedar and musk. Looking up to meet his eyes, she was surprised that he didn't step back from her, not that she objected. He reached around her to the door and opened it, never taking his eyes from hers. If she didn't leave now, she was afraid of what terrible mistake she might make. Certainly, any advances would offend him.
Taking a few small steps back into the hallway she said, "Goodnight Professor."
As the door was just about to close she heard, "Goodnight Miss Granger."
