Author's Ramblings: Hey everyone! Sorry this one took so long… and I know
this chapter is probably pretty boring, but you'll all be happy to know
that the next chapter will be nice and angst filled with lots of fun stuff…
the plot is actually going to start. Yay for me! Anyway, I hope this
chapter doesn't bore you to death… just wanted to throw in the promised
angst, and if it sucks, oh well. I'm sorry, I haven't really had any plot
bunny attacks and so this story is coming slowly. I've been really
depressed too, so writing isn't helping much. Anyway enough about me.
Read on! And remember, review!
Chapter 3: A Healer of Sorts
Lupin didn't even lift his eyes from the papers he was grading at the sound of the staff room door creaking open. He almost smiled at the sound of heavy, tiresome footsteps. "Good evening, Severus."
"Why don't you grade papers in your own quarters, Lupin?" grumbled Snape in return as he plopped himself into a chair close to the fire. Burying his face in his hands, he sighed with fatigue and tried to let his muscles relax. Finding it nearly impossible, he sighed again, throwing himself into the cushioned back of the chair, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
Lupin smiled, pouring two cups of steaming black coffee from a pot sitting on the counter near the staff refrigerator. "Tough class today?" he asked, walking over and placing a cup on the side table next to Snape's chair, taking his own chair to the side of Snape's.
'Hmph' was the only reply as Snape reached over and grabbed the handle of the mug, staring into its murky depths. Seeing only his dismal reflection on the surface of the deep onyx liquid, he sneered and looked back into the cackling fire. "Did you put anything in this?" he asked, wanting to know if Lupin had placed in any sugars to help 'lighten his mood'.
"No," he answered quietly, placing the pile of papers back in his lap and picking up his quill, and then grabbing his mug as well, "I know you like it black."
Staring back into his cup, he sipped cautiously, and then muttered an almost inaudible 'thank you'.
Lupin looked up from his papers to the morbid individual next to him, who was, at the moment, staring expressionlessly into the fire. He could see it flickering against Snape's eyes, along with deep pain and anger.
Drinking from his own mug, he set it down, wondering how to start conversation. "Sickle for your thoughts, Severus?"
When he didn't respond, Lupin made to press again, but Snape sighed, sounding somewhat depressed. "They don't know what it's like. It's not fair to judge someone without knowing what type of life they lead."
Lupin's brow furrowed in confusion. "Severus?"
Snape stood angrily all of the sudden, throwing his mug into the fire with rage. "Do they know what it's like to look back on your existence and cringe with loathing? No! Do THEY understand the pain and torture I've undergone? NO! How dare they judge me! HOW DARE THEY!"
He paced, and then began to lean against the brick above the hearth, leaning his forehead against his arm, breathing rapidly.
Lupin placed his papers on the table next to his chair and walked over to his stressed colleague, placing a warm hand on a trembling shoulder. "Severus, relax. Just calm down," he said soothingly, hoping the Potion's Master had temporarily forgotten where his wand was hidden inside his robes.
Throwing a troubled, anxious look at Lupin, Snape took another deep breath and threw himself into his chair again. His elbows settled on his knees, his hands linked and he settled his chin upon them. "It's just not fair," he mumbled into his hands.
Lupin pulled his chair up along side Snape and sat down, and hand on Snape's back for support. "Would you like to tell me about it?"
Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What do you see when you look into the eyes of one of your students?" he asked jadedly.
Lupin's brow furrowed. His students? What about his students? "I suppose I see eager, happy students, and the occasional depressed, morbid individual. But on the whole I suppose they are in high spirits. Why?"
Snape looked straight ahead, eyes off in an alternate universe. "Because I don't need to look into their eyes to realize how unhappy they are."
Lupin faltered. Whatever he was expecting, this certainly wasn't it. "Severus-"
But Snape didn't seem to hear him, since he continued speaking. "I can feel the depression and hatred radiating away from their bodies as they walk into my dungeon. I can see how utterly hopeless they feel in my class when they stare at the potions chalkboard with perplexity written perfectly on their faces. And I see them leap with complete elation as they exit at the end of the lesson."
He rubbed his face with his hands again, clearly tired and weary from another day of teaching. "I understand that I'm not the most pleasant person to be around, but it's still hard knowing your students dread the day they have to sit for a period in your class. And I'm trying, trying to become the person I should have been years ago, but some habits are evidently more easily erased than others."
Lupin tried to say something comforting, but found he had trouble finding the right words. "You can't please everyone, Severus-"
"Yes but it's somewhat unsettling when you realize everyone looks at you with eyes of loathing every time you're near them. It's almost as if you're the most disgusting thing they've every set eyes on." Lupin flinched, hearing Snape call himself a 'thing', not even considering himself human. He had begun to pace again, marking grooves into the carpet where his boots had been treading a pattern for several minutes now.
Pausing in front of the hearth, he placed a hand on his forehead, "Sometimes my mind actually believes them, and wonders why Albus is the only person who is willing to place trust in me."
Lupin rose to stand next to him. "I trust you," he said quietly.
Snape quirked his head suddenly to look at him with troubled eyes. A smile then spread across his face, and the effort put in to the one expression scared even Lupin.
"Thank you, Remus."
"You're quite welcome," Lupin replied, tending to his papers once more. "Would you like to tell me about it? I'm going to be here a while as it is, grading papers. It would be nice to have some company," he said, marking a red 87 on one paper.
"Thank you, but no thank you," Snape answered, "I think I'll return to the dungeons. I believe the Weasley twins have managed to leave yet another mess for me to tend to."
Remus chuckled, his laugh echoing warmly in his throat. "All right, I suppose I'll leave you alone. Have a good night."
"You too."
Snape squeezed himself through the door of the staff room and slyly made his way down his cold dungeon quarters. Greeting the dark atmosphere of room with open arms, he planned to fall ungracefully into bed, undecided on whether he was awake enough to change first or not.
"Euh… Professor?"
Starting at the sound of another human voice (something was definitely not expecting at this time of night, especially around his dungeons), he quickly spun on his heel to find Hermione standing some paces behind him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, realizing after the words had escaped that it was slightly undignified of him to phrase it in such a manner.
Hermione's cheeks colored, and Snape realized he had embarrassed her in an already-embarrassing situation. "I… euh… followed you for a while… I called out to you, but you didn't hear me… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude… I'll leave now if you like-"
"No, no, it's all right," he recovered, figuring he was too caught up in his own thoughts to hear things around him. "What can I do for you Ms. Granger?"
Hermione shifted her feet, her hands clasping nervously behind her back. "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt you… I just..." she seemed highly uncomfortable, "I-I wanted to apologize." Her last statement was hurried. "I'm sorry for the outburst in class today, and I wanted to explain that I don't know what came over me, but I'm truly sorry for everything I said, especially since none of it was true. I hope that you will find it somewhere in your heart to except my apology?" She was truly troubled now. What if he didn't except her apology? He'd probably continue to hate her existence until she died; or he died, whichever came first.
His emotions caused him to want to gawk at her, but the rational portion of his brain pushed him back to reality and helped him hold a straight face. "Your apology is accepted," his mouth formed the words.
It was now her turn to gawk. "You mean… you're not angry with me?"
Snape suppressed a smirk aimed toward the confused Gryffindor. "No, Ms. Granger, I'm not angry with you. I, personally, agree with some of the things you said today, but we won't discuss it."
Hermione became flustered again. "Professor, the things I said were uncalled for-"
"Oh, the things you said did hold some importance, but it doesn't hold top priority at the present moment. You will, however, serve out three detentions for me."
Hermione looked as if she was bout to hug him, but refrained from doing so, much to Snape's delight. "Thank you, Professor."
Snape suddenly smiled. "Don't fret over it, Ms. Granger. Now off to bed with you, it's late, and Honeydukes awaits your arrival tomorrow."
She smiled back and hurried off, a certain cheerful bounce resuming itself in her stride.
Only three detentions? He was becoming soft.
Yet something in the fact hat she apologized made him sympathize with her.
After all, it was the first apology he'd received in many, many years.
*
"Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, for I will only give you your instructions once."
Hermione fidgeted on her stool, trying to relax, but finding it hard under the stern glare of her Potions Master. It was Thursday evening, almost a week from her 'apology', and he had summoned her to his dungeons to help clean out cauldrons, clean the tabletops, and do other types of dirty work for him. She found that she really didn't want to clean up other people's messes, but it was better than doing other more energy consuming tasks.
After receiving instructions on certain spells to help her use the magic cleaner (Merlin's Every Magical Mishap Remover) and rules to help her to refrain from exploding the classroom to bits, Snape threw himself into his chair to grade papers. Hermione noticed the tired way his voice echoed around the walls, but didn't really give it a second thought. Grabbing her wand, the sac of magic cleaner powder, and a rag, she began to work a particularly prominent stain out of the wooden tabletop. Sprinkling some powder on the wood and muttering a spell, she began to scrub the table with her rag, throwing her whole arm and shoulder into it (Snape explained that it had been invented with an activation spell so that small muggles and house elves could touch or ingest in without being harmed if they happened upon it).
Working her way around all the classroom desks, she noticed how all the tabletops suddenly gleamed and were several shades lighter in color than they were when she had come in. Snape remained at his desk, sliding his pen smoothly over the tops of the papers, marking grades. Yet something about him; either his posture or this facial expression; was giving her the idea that he was very miserable (well, more so than usual). His face was cast in shadow, his shoulders hunched, his over all appearance radiating bitterness.
"Is something wrong, Professor?"
Snape looked up from his paper sharply, his eyes holding bewilderment. "I beg your pardon?" he breathed.
She gave him a confused look. "I asked if you were alright. You seem melancholy. Are you ok?"
He looked on at her with utter disorientation on his face. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, turning back to his papers.
Hermione shrugged and went back to her tasks. If he wasn't up to conversation, she certainly wasn't going to try her luck at starting any. Though it startled her to find his witty remarks were nowhere to be found this evening, and that he was very quiet overall.
He hadn't really been himself lately in class; he acted depressed and sat at his desk with his head in his hands, as if he was constantly fatigued. Even though he was evil and crude and egotistical and overall the most hated teacher in class, she still felt sympathy towards him when she saw him suffering silently as the other students passed notes and whispered about how much they wished he would die.
She suddenly started as a cry of pain sounded from the front of the room, and a gasp issued from her own mouth as she watched him crumple in his chair, hunched over, his arms pressed to his chest, schoolwork papers fluttering messily to the floor. Forgetting about her rag, she dropped it on the table and ran around the desk and chair and rushed to the front of the room.
"Professor?! Professor!" she cried, swiveling his chair to the side to face her. He only sat before her, paying her no mind, taking deep breaths and slowly trying to calm himself. But the pain was unbearable. Feeling the hot pain searing up and down his arm caused his mind to think of nothing else. God, please, he begged, just let me die already…
"Professor, answer me! Tell me what's wrong!" Seeing that he couldn't communicate very easily, she took his face into her hands, soothing his temples. Finally catching what little attention he had left, she tried to soothe away his fears. She felt somewhat awkward; she had hated him only a week ago, yet she somehow felt obligated to assist him. "It's alright. Everything will be alright," she cooed, "Just show me what is causing you pain."
Tears now spilling furiously down his face, he thrust out his arm to her, pulling back the sleeve of his robe. She suppressed an intake of breath as looked down upon the Dark Mark tattooed into his skin, the rims of the dark black ink glowing an emerald green. Running cool fingers along his inner arm, she brushed some mangled hair out of his face and smiled. "It's ok. I'll make it go away, just relax."
Brandishing her wand and cradling it in one hand, his arm in the other, she started whispering spells and enchantments to help loosen up his stressed muscles and help calm his tense nerves. He could hear her singing the words in fluent Latin, her tongue rolling over each syllable with ease. It was like music; music to overpower the steady pounding in his ears.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, realizing the pain was slowly leaving his body. He closed his eyes, tranquility finally claiming him under her careful and soft touches. He finally leaned back in his chair, shaking slightly, anxious but without pain.
"Are you alright now, Professor? Does anything still ache?" she asked, standing.
He looked up at her from his chair, "Where did you learn to heal like that?" he asked hoarsely, his throat tight.
She signed and averted her gaze. "It's amazing what you can learn from simply reading a book."
He seemed angry, but had trouble placing expressions on his face because he was very weak. "Stupid girl, you don't simply learn advanced healing spells from a book! They take years to master!" he managed to say.
"So maybe I've been reading into if for years. It's not like I watch television or play video games in my spare time."
"Do you know other types of healing as well, then?"
"Yes," she replied, and seeing that he was in no immediate danger, picked up her rag again. "I've read into all types of healing magic, especially since it was something I could do easily without much practice and I would probably use it later in life."
He suddenly looked apprehensive. "Are you a Healer?"
She smiled. "Not yet. Maybe someday."
He smiled as he watched her clean. She was so committed… "I think that's good enough for today, Ms. Granger. You may go. I will see you tomorrow, same time and place. All right?"
She looked up from the table, somewhat confused. "But it's only 8:30. Are you sure I've served a long enough detention?"
"Yes, yes, it's fine." He rose, somewhat shakily, to his feet, and walked in front of his desk, leaning on it for support. "You are free to go."
"Are you sure you're all right, professor? Does it usually cause that much pain when you're summoned?"
Damn her. She'd found the most uncomfortable subject for him. "No," he answered, then caught himself. Why was he telling her anything? He didn't even tell Albus some things he wished not to share, and here he found himself wanting to share things with this girl that he hadn't even spoken out loud to anyone. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind he found that he trusted her; somehow she would understand, and wouldn't judge him. "Usually it isn't too painful. But I believe Voldemort has found he's not the only one I report to."
"You mean he's found out that you're working for Dumbledore?"
"Yes."
"So are you going to attend the meeting?"
"No."
Hermione grew concerned. "But you could be killed!"
He couldn't meet her eyes. "I'll be killed either way. At least this way it will buy me some time."
"Professor-"
"Your detention is finished, Ms. Granger. You may leave now." His cold, stern, hollow voice had resumed, and Hermione knew better than to not obey. Obviously he didn't want any more questions.
She picked up her things and threw her bag over her shoulder, and turned towards the door. "Would you like me to fetch the Headmaster?" she asked, her hand on the door.
"No," he replied, "I'll see to it myself. Thank you."
She heaved open the door. "Good night, Professor," she said quietly, "I hope you feel better."
He watched her exit, keeping his eyes on the door, even though it had closed. That was twice she'd done something nice for him in only a week's time.
Maybe not all the Gryffindors were bad after all.
Sucky? Needs improvement? Tell me what you think! Leave a review! Please?
Next chapter will have all the afore-mentioned pain and torture, I promise… you just have to slide into these things! Hehe…
Thanks for reading! And remember! REVIEW!
~Shorty Trenchrat
P.S.- And just to do some last minute explaining…
I plan on writing this story so that it will be romance… but to please most, there will be no 'intercourse', so to speak, because even I find that somewhat repulsive… not that it would be a problem if they were married or even dating, but neither of these will occur either. I'm going to base this story on building trust, among other things, not just kissing and smooching and 'getting it on' in the bedroom. But this will be romance, just not heavy-duty romance. I hope that's all right with everyone. I'll try and smush in as many sweet and cute moments as I can. Good, people?
Thank you for all your encouraging reviews. You don't know how much you guys make me smile. Yes, even the negative ones. I've hit 70 reviews, which is WAY more than I ever expected. Thank you so much, and please, keep telling me what you think! I can't change things if I don't know they're a problem.
I know this is a little late, considering I already posted the chapter, but it's ok if I edit once and a while, right?
Catsrule Dogsdrool- one of my, if not my most, faithful reviewer/reader! Thank you so much for your compliments! And no, I'm not going to kill him off… I love him too! He's too important to the plot anyway… no use if he's dead!
Thank you all again for everything, and I'll continue writing!
Chapter 3: A Healer of Sorts
Lupin didn't even lift his eyes from the papers he was grading at the sound of the staff room door creaking open. He almost smiled at the sound of heavy, tiresome footsteps. "Good evening, Severus."
"Why don't you grade papers in your own quarters, Lupin?" grumbled Snape in return as he plopped himself into a chair close to the fire. Burying his face in his hands, he sighed with fatigue and tried to let his muscles relax. Finding it nearly impossible, he sighed again, throwing himself into the cushioned back of the chair, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
Lupin smiled, pouring two cups of steaming black coffee from a pot sitting on the counter near the staff refrigerator. "Tough class today?" he asked, walking over and placing a cup on the side table next to Snape's chair, taking his own chair to the side of Snape's.
'Hmph' was the only reply as Snape reached over and grabbed the handle of the mug, staring into its murky depths. Seeing only his dismal reflection on the surface of the deep onyx liquid, he sneered and looked back into the cackling fire. "Did you put anything in this?" he asked, wanting to know if Lupin had placed in any sugars to help 'lighten his mood'.
"No," he answered quietly, placing the pile of papers back in his lap and picking up his quill, and then grabbing his mug as well, "I know you like it black."
Staring back into his cup, he sipped cautiously, and then muttered an almost inaudible 'thank you'.
Lupin looked up from his papers to the morbid individual next to him, who was, at the moment, staring expressionlessly into the fire. He could see it flickering against Snape's eyes, along with deep pain and anger.
Drinking from his own mug, he set it down, wondering how to start conversation. "Sickle for your thoughts, Severus?"
When he didn't respond, Lupin made to press again, but Snape sighed, sounding somewhat depressed. "They don't know what it's like. It's not fair to judge someone without knowing what type of life they lead."
Lupin's brow furrowed in confusion. "Severus?"
Snape stood angrily all of the sudden, throwing his mug into the fire with rage. "Do they know what it's like to look back on your existence and cringe with loathing? No! Do THEY understand the pain and torture I've undergone? NO! How dare they judge me! HOW DARE THEY!"
He paced, and then began to lean against the brick above the hearth, leaning his forehead against his arm, breathing rapidly.
Lupin placed his papers on the table next to his chair and walked over to his stressed colleague, placing a warm hand on a trembling shoulder. "Severus, relax. Just calm down," he said soothingly, hoping the Potion's Master had temporarily forgotten where his wand was hidden inside his robes.
Throwing a troubled, anxious look at Lupin, Snape took another deep breath and threw himself into his chair again. His elbows settled on his knees, his hands linked and he settled his chin upon them. "It's just not fair," he mumbled into his hands.
Lupin pulled his chair up along side Snape and sat down, and hand on Snape's back for support. "Would you like to tell me about it?"
Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What do you see when you look into the eyes of one of your students?" he asked jadedly.
Lupin's brow furrowed. His students? What about his students? "I suppose I see eager, happy students, and the occasional depressed, morbid individual. But on the whole I suppose they are in high spirits. Why?"
Snape looked straight ahead, eyes off in an alternate universe. "Because I don't need to look into their eyes to realize how unhappy they are."
Lupin faltered. Whatever he was expecting, this certainly wasn't it. "Severus-"
But Snape didn't seem to hear him, since he continued speaking. "I can feel the depression and hatred radiating away from their bodies as they walk into my dungeon. I can see how utterly hopeless they feel in my class when they stare at the potions chalkboard with perplexity written perfectly on their faces. And I see them leap with complete elation as they exit at the end of the lesson."
He rubbed his face with his hands again, clearly tired and weary from another day of teaching. "I understand that I'm not the most pleasant person to be around, but it's still hard knowing your students dread the day they have to sit for a period in your class. And I'm trying, trying to become the person I should have been years ago, but some habits are evidently more easily erased than others."
Lupin tried to say something comforting, but found he had trouble finding the right words. "You can't please everyone, Severus-"
"Yes but it's somewhat unsettling when you realize everyone looks at you with eyes of loathing every time you're near them. It's almost as if you're the most disgusting thing they've every set eyes on." Lupin flinched, hearing Snape call himself a 'thing', not even considering himself human. He had begun to pace again, marking grooves into the carpet where his boots had been treading a pattern for several minutes now.
Pausing in front of the hearth, he placed a hand on his forehead, "Sometimes my mind actually believes them, and wonders why Albus is the only person who is willing to place trust in me."
Lupin rose to stand next to him. "I trust you," he said quietly.
Snape quirked his head suddenly to look at him with troubled eyes. A smile then spread across his face, and the effort put in to the one expression scared even Lupin.
"Thank you, Remus."
"You're quite welcome," Lupin replied, tending to his papers once more. "Would you like to tell me about it? I'm going to be here a while as it is, grading papers. It would be nice to have some company," he said, marking a red 87 on one paper.
"Thank you, but no thank you," Snape answered, "I think I'll return to the dungeons. I believe the Weasley twins have managed to leave yet another mess for me to tend to."
Remus chuckled, his laugh echoing warmly in his throat. "All right, I suppose I'll leave you alone. Have a good night."
"You too."
Snape squeezed himself through the door of the staff room and slyly made his way down his cold dungeon quarters. Greeting the dark atmosphere of room with open arms, he planned to fall ungracefully into bed, undecided on whether he was awake enough to change first or not.
"Euh… Professor?"
Starting at the sound of another human voice (something was definitely not expecting at this time of night, especially around his dungeons), he quickly spun on his heel to find Hermione standing some paces behind him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, realizing after the words had escaped that it was slightly undignified of him to phrase it in such a manner.
Hermione's cheeks colored, and Snape realized he had embarrassed her in an already-embarrassing situation. "I… euh… followed you for a while… I called out to you, but you didn't hear me… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude… I'll leave now if you like-"
"No, no, it's all right," he recovered, figuring he was too caught up in his own thoughts to hear things around him. "What can I do for you Ms. Granger?"
Hermione shifted her feet, her hands clasping nervously behind her back. "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt you… I just..." she seemed highly uncomfortable, "I-I wanted to apologize." Her last statement was hurried. "I'm sorry for the outburst in class today, and I wanted to explain that I don't know what came over me, but I'm truly sorry for everything I said, especially since none of it was true. I hope that you will find it somewhere in your heart to except my apology?" She was truly troubled now. What if he didn't except her apology? He'd probably continue to hate her existence until she died; or he died, whichever came first.
His emotions caused him to want to gawk at her, but the rational portion of his brain pushed him back to reality and helped him hold a straight face. "Your apology is accepted," his mouth formed the words.
It was now her turn to gawk. "You mean… you're not angry with me?"
Snape suppressed a smirk aimed toward the confused Gryffindor. "No, Ms. Granger, I'm not angry with you. I, personally, agree with some of the things you said today, but we won't discuss it."
Hermione became flustered again. "Professor, the things I said were uncalled for-"
"Oh, the things you said did hold some importance, but it doesn't hold top priority at the present moment. You will, however, serve out three detentions for me."
Hermione looked as if she was bout to hug him, but refrained from doing so, much to Snape's delight. "Thank you, Professor."
Snape suddenly smiled. "Don't fret over it, Ms. Granger. Now off to bed with you, it's late, and Honeydukes awaits your arrival tomorrow."
She smiled back and hurried off, a certain cheerful bounce resuming itself in her stride.
Only three detentions? He was becoming soft.
Yet something in the fact hat she apologized made him sympathize with her.
After all, it was the first apology he'd received in many, many years.
*
"Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, for I will only give you your instructions once."
Hermione fidgeted on her stool, trying to relax, but finding it hard under the stern glare of her Potions Master. It was Thursday evening, almost a week from her 'apology', and he had summoned her to his dungeons to help clean out cauldrons, clean the tabletops, and do other types of dirty work for him. She found that she really didn't want to clean up other people's messes, but it was better than doing other more energy consuming tasks.
After receiving instructions on certain spells to help her use the magic cleaner (Merlin's Every Magical Mishap Remover) and rules to help her to refrain from exploding the classroom to bits, Snape threw himself into his chair to grade papers. Hermione noticed the tired way his voice echoed around the walls, but didn't really give it a second thought. Grabbing her wand, the sac of magic cleaner powder, and a rag, she began to work a particularly prominent stain out of the wooden tabletop. Sprinkling some powder on the wood and muttering a spell, she began to scrub the table with her rag, throwing her whole arm and shoulder into it (Snape explained that it had been invented with an activation spell so that small muggles and house elves could touch or ingest in without being harmed if they happened upon it).
Working her way around all the classroom desks, she noticed how all the tabletops suddenly gleamed and were several shades lighter in color than they were when she had come in. Snape remained at his desk, sliding his pen smoothly over the tops of the papers, marking grades. Yet something about him; either his posture or this facial expression; was giving her the idea that he was very miserable (well, more so than usual). His face was cast in shadow, his shoulders hunched, his over all appearance radiating bitterness.
"Is something wrong, Professor?"
Snape looked up from his paper sharply, his eyes holding bewilderment. "I beg your pardon?" he breathed.
She gave him a confused look. "I asked if you were alright. You seem melancholy. Are you ok?"
He looked on at her with utter disorientation on his face. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, turning back to his papers.
Hermione shrugged and went back to her tasks. If he wasn't up to conversation, she certainly wasn't going to try her luck at starting any. Though it startled her to find his witty remarks were nowhere to be found this evening, and that he was very quiet overall.
He hadn't really been himself lately in class; he acted depressed and sat at his desk with his head in his hands, as if he was constantly fatigued. Even though he was evil and crude and egotistical and overall the most hated teacher in class, she still felt sympathy towards him when she saw him suffering silently as the other students passed notes and whispered about how much they wished he would die.
She suddenly started as a cry of pain sounded from the front of the room, and a gasp issued from her own mouth as she watched him crumple in his chair, hunched over, his arms pressed to his chest, schoolwork papers fluttering messily to the floor. Forgetting about her rag, she dropped it on the table and ran around the desk and chair and rushed to the front of the room.
"Professor?! Professor!" she cried, swiveling his chair to the side to face her. He only sat before her, paying her no mind, taking deep breaths and slowly trying to calm himself. But the pain was unbearable. Feeling the hot pain searing up and down his arm caused his mind to think of nothing else. God, please, he begged, just let me die already…
"Professor, answer me! Tell me what's wrong!" Seeing that he couldn't communicate very easily, she took his face into her hands, soothing his temples. Finally catching what little attention he had left, she tried to soothe away his fears. She felt somewhat awkward; she had hated him only a week ago, yet she somehow felt obligated to assist him. "It's alright. Everything will be alright," she cooed, "Just show me what is causing you pain."
Tears now spilling furiously down his face, he thrust out his arm to her, pulling back the sleeve of his robe. She suppressed an intake of breath as looked down upon the Dark Mark tattooed into his skin, the rims of the dark black ink glowing an emerald green. Running cool fingers along his inner arm, she brushed some mangled hair out of his face and smiled. "It's ok. I'll make it go away, just relax."
Brandishing her wand and cradling it in one hand, his arm in the other, she started whispering spells and enchantments to help loosen up his stressed muscles and help calm his tense nerves. He could hear her singing the words in fluent Latin, her tongue rolling over each syllable with ease. It was like music; music to overpower the steady pounding in his ears.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, realizing the pain was slowly leaving his body. He closed his eyes, tranquility finally claiming him under her careful and soft touches. He finally leaned back in his chair, shaking slightly, anxious but without pain.
"Are you alright now, Professor? Does anything still ache?" she asked, standing.
He looked up at her from his chair, "Where did you learn to heal like that?" he asked hoarsely, his throat tight.
She signed and averted her gaze. "It's amazing what you can learn from simply reading a book."
He seemed angry, but had trouble placing expressions on his face because he was very weak. "Stupid girl, you don't simply learn advanced healing spells from a book! They take years to master!" he managed to say.
"So maybe I've been reading into if for years. It's not like I watch television or play video games in my spare time."
"Do you know other types of healing as well, then?"
"Yes," she replied, and seeing that he was in no immediate danger, picked up her rag again. "I've read into all types of healing magic, especially since it was something I could do easily without much practice and I would probably use it later in life."
He suddenly looked apprehensive. "Are you a Healer?"
She smiled. "Not yet. Maybe someday."
He smiled as he watched her clean. She was so committed… "I think that's good enough for today, Ms. Granger. You may go. I will see you tomorrow, same time and place. All right?"
She looked up from the table, somewhat confused. "But it's only 8:30. Are you sure I've served a long enough detention?"
"Yes, yes, it's fine." He rose, somewhat shakily, to his feet, and walked in front of his desk, leaning on it for support. "You are free to go."
"Are you sure you're all right, professor? Does it usually cause that much pain when you're summoned?"
Damn her. She'd found the most uncomfortable subject for him. "No," he answered, then caught himself. Why was he telling her anything? He didn't even tell Albus some things he wished not to share, and here he found himself wanting to share things with this girl that he hadn't even spoken out loud to anyone. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind he found that he trusted her; somehow she would understand, and wouldn't judge him. "Usually it isn't too painful. But I believe Voldemort has found he's not the only one I report to."
"You mean he's found out that you're working for Dumbledore?"
"Yes."
"So are you going to attend the meeting?"
"No."
Hermione grew concerned. "But you could be killed!"
He couldn't meet her eyes. "I'll be killed either way. At least this way it will buy me some time."
"Professor-"
"Your detention is finished, Ms. Granger. You may leave now." His cold, stern, hollow voice had resumed, and Hermione knew better than to not obey. Obviously he didn't want any more questions.
She picked up her things and threw her bag over her shoulder, and turned towards the door. "Would you like me to fetch the Headmaster?" she asked, her hand on the door.
"No," he replied, "I'll see to it myself. Thank you."
She heaved open the door. "Good night, Professor," she said quietly, "I hope you feel better."
He watched her exit, keeping his eyes on the door, even though it had closed. That was twice she'd done something nice for him in only a week's time.
Maybe not all the Gryffindors were bad after all.
Sucky? Needs improvement? Tell me what you think! Leave a review! Please?
Next chapter will have all the afore-mentioned pain and torture, I promise… you just have to slide into these things! Hehe…
Thanks for reading! And remember! REVIEW!
~Shorty Trenchrat
P.S.- And just to do some last minute explaining…
I plan on writing this story so that it will be romance… but to please most, there will be no 'intercourse', so to speak, because even I find that somewhat repulsive… not that it would be a problem if they were married or even dating, but neither of these will occur either. I'm going to base this story on building trust, among other things, not just kissing and smooching and 'getting it on' in the bedroom. But this will be romance, just not heavy-duty romance. I hope that's all right with everyone. I'll try and smush in as many sweet and cute moments as I can. Good, people?
Thank you for all your encouraging reviews. You don't know how much you guys make me smile. Yes, even the negative ones. I've hit 70 reviews, which is WAY more than I ever expected. Thank you so much, and please, keep telling me what you think! I can't change things if I don't know they're a problem.
I know this is a little late, considering I already posted the chapter, but it's ok if I edit once and a while, right?
Catsrule Dogsdrool- one of my, if not my most, faithful reviewer/reader! Thank you so much for your compliments! And no, I'm not going to kill him off… I love him too! He's too important to the plot anyway… no use if he's dead!
Thank you all again for everything, and I'll continue writing!