A/N: OK, OK, I know I'm hopeless; this took far longer than it should have, but I have valid excuses if you want to hear them – I had History coursework due on the 7th and then English coursework due on the 12th and then it was my birthday :D on Friday. So a pretty hectic couple of weeks. (Those of you who went to my party, hope you had fun, those of you who refused to go hem hem I shall say no more). Anyway, back to the story…
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN –
A Very Wild Winter
A huge gust of wind howled through the castle and pouring rain pummelled the windowpanes; Hermione could certainly believe that it was the middle of December.
With only a couple of days left until the end of term, everyone seemed to be reaching the end of their tethers; students were becoming more tired and distracted, teachers stressed and frustrated, and even the ghosts seemed wearier. Filch particularly, it seemed, had had enough of cleaning up after students, particularly as they came in from the grounds, splattering mud all over his previously gleaming floor. Hermione had seen him on several occasions issuing mops to students and forcing them to clean up their own mess.
She was walking back from tea with Grawp on a particularly wild evening when something odd caught her attention; a tall hooded figure striding out of the forest. She recognised the gait to be Snape's. She followed him back to the castle, from a little way off, but he seemed to turn his head around sharply every few minutes as if he suspected that someone was following him.
He opened the doors to the Entrance Hall and she saw his body silhouetted against the interior's warm glow for a moment before the doors slammed shut violently. She ran up the steps, frantically pulling back the wild mane that was growing around her head. She pulled the doors open and galloped in, taking a huge gulp of warm air as she entered the hall, wind bellowed behind her and she shut the doors. She stood for a few moments trying to catch her breath and then went into the Great Hall for supper.
She sat down at the staff table and clasped her shivering blue hands around a warm glass of mulled wine. On her right Professor McGonagall was having a very animated debate with Professor Slughorn, whilst on her left Snape was eating his chicken and mushroom pie with vigour.
"You look like you're in a hurry to get somewhere Severus," she said quietly,
"I have the pleasure of holding a detention tonight," he scowled,
She almost said "who?" but her brain caught up with her mouth, "still? She's staying at Hogwarts for the holidays as well; surely you won't give her detention then too?"
He looked at her thoughtfully for a minute and then said, "It depends on whether it becomes a chore or entertainment."
"And which is it now?"
"Oh, still entertainment; though I might eventually get bored of it, she seems to finally be breaking down."
She sighed, "But that's just because it's the end of term, you know that."
He sneered at her, "Well then, I must return to my office." He rose from his chair and walked a few steps away.
"Severus," she said quietly, he looked curiously back at her, "will you ever have time for me?"
He frowned, "why would I need time for you?"
She stared at him, "But I thought…"
He bent down next to her, "there's nothing to think about Professor Granger, you're engaged to Mr Weasley, we all make mistakes some time." And then he swept from the hall without a backwards glance.
She looked down at her plate, fuming with rage; not only was he denying anything ever really happened between them but he was making a jibe about Ron. She'd had enough of this, problem was she'd been telling herself this for over a month, but every time she went to say something to him she couldn't bring herself to, she could never say anything to his face like he seemed to possess the ability to do so easily.
But what else would she have expected from him? And why had she expected so much from him in the first place? She'd been so stupid thinking anything could have happened between them, after all, she was still little less than a schoolgirl compared to what he'd done. He murdered the two best wizards of the age, and Voldemort couldn't have gone without him, he wasn't interested in a twenty-five year old Muggle-born who really couldn't possibly know-it-all anymore. She had always known, from the day that Dumbledore died, that her days pouring over books were over; if she wanted to help Harry then the knowledge she already had and her pure logic would suffice. And now everything had ended, the only problems she had to solve were purely personal, but no book to could help her there.
How could she have even thought she had a chance? She'd ignored Ron's desperate owls, she'd asked to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, and she'd even found herself imagining in her head what else she might get for Christmas. But now she felt disgusted by herself; she was always going to marry Ron, they loved each other, it had always been so perfect, they needed each other, but she just needed him to move on from Harry.
A few days later she pulled her trunk out of her office and locked the door behind her, she heard footsteps running up the corridor behind her, and so she turned and looked up. "Hello Emma," she smiled as the fourth-year bounded towards her,
"Professor you can't go! You promised you'd stay and persuade that bastard..." she stopped suddenly to check whether she was going to get told off, but nothing happened so she continued, "persuade him to stop putting me in detention all holiday."
"Yes, well Emma, I'm not going for the whole holiday but I do have to go home,"
"To your fiancé?"
"Yes, and to get away from here for a bit, it does my head in sometimes." She held the handle of her trunk and put her cloak under her arm, and then straightened herself up, "well have a good Christmas Emma, see you soon."
"Yeah, you too," Emma said distantly as she gazed down the corridor at a tall Slytherin fifth-year, "sorry, Professor, I just remembered something I had to do," and she dashed down the corridor without a backwards glance.
Hermione shook her head and walked along the corridor to the staircase. Students filled the Entrance Hall, all waiting for carriages to take them down to Hogsmeade Station; she looked down to see if there were any other teachers going home too, the Astronomy teacher who had replaced Professor Sinistra when she had retired, Professor Arcturus, was sitting on his trunk at the bottom of the staircase engrossed in a book called On Occultation which looked so well-read it was falling apart at the binding.
She shuffled towards him and coughed quietly, "Good book?"
"Fascinating," he grunted without looking up.
Hermione didn't think much of this man, but probably more than he thought of her; he was the sort of wizard who didn't see that women were as capable of understanding magic, especially not young women like her, and he had come to blows with Professor McGonagall more than once this term.
She sighed and sat down on the steps, trying to block out the sound of the babbling students. She heard sharp footsteps striding down the staircase behind her and a shadow fell onto her lap, she jerked her head up to look into his face.
"Off already Granger?" he sneered, "with the rest of the students,"
"Oh Snape, please, I'm going home for Christmas, at least I have a family who wants me," she stood up to meet him,
"I don't have a family, and neither do you." He said sharply,
She gulped, "the Weasleys have looked after me for years and when Ron and I get married –"
"Oh so you are going to get married now," his lips were very tight, "I assume you've told him this, after all he is the type of person to get very worried if you stop writing to him all term,"
Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it again, she thought for a moment and then said, "of course he knows we're getting married, he proposed to me, and I have been writing to him, all the time."
"Liar,"
"Well you've been leading me on all term, what was I supposed to do?" she whispered frantically,
"Use your brain? Miss Granger, the number of times I've heard you be called a clever witch are almost uncountable, but why is that someone so supposedly well-endowed of mind can fail to see through things so blindingly obvious? I underestimated your futility it seems, you have even less sense than I suspected." He smirked, "have a pleasant Christmas with your, oh yes, family, or at least a weak replacement of one."
She glowered as she sat down again, how could he do it? How could he stand there and make needless taunts about her dead parents, and Ron, and the Weasleys who'd looked after her for so long? He was so heartless, but he had seemed so different before, when he had kissed her and it had really felt as if he'd meant it.
A/N: Awh, slicing remarks from Severus… Sorry, couldn't resist the astronomy (I got a lovely shiny telescope for my birthday!). I really hope you'll get another before Christmas, but if not, Merry Christmas to those of you that celebrate it, not that I celebrate it in any other way than tradition, but you know.