"Miss Granger? May I have this dance?"
Okay. Umm…I most definitely must have heard him incorrectly. For a moment there I thought he sa-
"Miss Granger, it is customary to give a reply when you are extended an invitation to dance. Furthermore," he snapped, "it is hugely unbecoming for you to sit there with your mouth hanging open. I suggest you close it before people start to think that you have some sort of Muggle-born genetic flaw!"
Now he's yelling at me? What is he playing at? What exactly is going on here?
Hermione's head whirled as she tried to make sense of what had happened in the past ten seconds. She had seen Professor Snape storm off from the Head Table and make his way out of the Great Hall, and from his gait – like he was stalking prey - she had known that he was angry. She had seen him prowling the hallways of Hogwarts often enough as a student to recognize that it did not herald a friendly greeting, and she was sure that he was leaving the party for the night.
She had been surprised at how disappointed she was by his departure. In the back of her mind she had harbored the thought that perhaps tonight, in this setting that was so different from what they had been living in for so long now, an opportunity might present itself for them to have a real conversation. She wasn't sure what this pull was that she felt toward him; she was one of the few who never believed that he had restored his allegiance to Voldemort. Part of it was that Dumbledore had trusted him, but there was more. In her gut - my heart - she knew that he was not an evil man. She was well aware of his past, as they all were. The things that he must have seen and done while serving as a Death Eater were things that in all likelihood were beyond her comprehension, but she could see that they were not things that he was proud of. He carried his past not as an honor but as a burden.
He was courageous; to have been a spy for the Order for so many years was an incredibly dangerous task, and she realized that he had given his entire life to it. She had wondered many times if teaching was his career of choice or one of convenience, due to his loyalty to Dumbledore. He obviously had no rapport with young children. Perhaps he would have been happier being a Potions Master in a university; or a Health Wizard, researching new medicinal potions in a vast laboratory somewhere.
Maybe he would just be happy being a husband and father.
During the Battle of The End, she had found herself fighting near him on the fields. Although she had always known that he was a powerful wizard, she never had a full appreciation of his gifts until that day. Though she was certainly not in a position that day to stand idly by and observe his wizarding skills, she could actually feel the strength emanating from him, like waves of flame swelling outward from an explosion. Renewed by the knowledge that someone so very potent was fighting on their side – on her side – she had found herself fighting with a new fervor and ability.
His power gave me power. His strength strengthened me.
Hermione wasn't daft enough to ignore what the base of that power surge was. She knew that the intensity of it lay in dark magic. She had felt some of its lure as she had fought; it was almost as though exhilaration had mingled with the fear and revulsion coursing through her. She was able to ignore it for the most part, because she was only being lightly grazed by the outer fringes of its area. But even that tiny encounter had left her with an almost painful clarity of vision and a taste in the back of her throat that was - the taste of murder - slightly sweet and metallic. And it had also left her with an incredibly intensified appreciation and awe of Snape's true strength of character. For him to have that power…to know that kind of animalistic pleasure and be able to keep it in check and not surrender to it…was astounding..
She wanted the opportunity to get to know him as a person; to leave behind the teacher/student relationship and move on as equals. But would he ever be able to see her as anything other than a child?
I just want a chance…
He turned and began to walk away.
"Professor, wait!"
Cursing under his breath, Snape had stormed away from the Head Table, convinced that his evening was at an end. Brushing none too gently through the knot of students clustered near the entry doors, he stalked his way down toward the dungeons.
"Bloody Hooch! Bloody lot of them! What right do they think they have, interfering in my personal affairs! Trying to wheedle me into asking a student, " but she's not a student anymore, "to dance; a mere slip of a girl!" But she fought like a woman. "And then insinuating that I would be degraded, were she not to accept!"
Well, wouldn't you?
Snape's walking slowed as he continued on through the corridors.
A woman has a right to decline an invitation. She would not want to dance with me, particularly in front of a room of her peers. It would only humiliate her, and further her dislike of me. I would completely expect her to say no.
He came to a stop in front of one of the many framed pictures in the castle hallways. A beautiful young witch with long black hair sat reading a book beneath a lush tree on a quiet hillside. As he watched, a wizard approached her cautiously. As she looked up from her book, he held out to her a single yellow rose.
But she didn't say no. She didn't have the opportunity. You deprived her of that right.
Uncertainly, the young witch reached out and accepted the rose.
I am trying to think of her feelings! I am trying to spare her the disgrace she would surely feel if I were to put her in that position!
Smiling shyly, the wizard motioned to the ground next to the witch.
You are talking about one of the most powerful, most courageous witches of her time…or of any time, if you are going to be perfectly honest. She fought beside you against Voldemort. She fought well…she fought exceptionally well. Do you truly think so highly of yourself that you suppose an awkward moment with you would unnerve the girl?
She is no longer a girl.
After a moment's hesitation, the raven-haired witch looked up from beneath lowered lashes and moved slightly to one side, making room for the wizard to sit beside her.
There is absolutely no reason why she would wish to dance with me. She declined invitations from young, handsome men; to think that she would accept my request would be utter foolishness.
Settling into the soft grass, the wizard motioned to the book. The witch turned it over so that he could see the title.
She would have said no.
The witch said something softly to the wizard and the both laughed, smiling at each other.
Maybe you should have given her the chance.
Turning slowly, he made his way back toward the Great Hall. After the argument that he had just been having with himself, his head seemed unnaturally quiet. He thought of nothing, focused on nothing, analyzed nothing. He walked amongst the students without seeing or hearing them; and only as he neared Hermione did he realize, with relief, that the band was starting a slow song.
He reached his hand out toward her just as she began to push herself away from the table. She jumped slightly as he touched her, then turned and looked into his eyes.
"Miss Granger? May I have this dance?"
The touch of her hand on his arm stilled him. He stopped with his back to her, his head inclined toward her ever so slightly.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I…I would be honored. To dance with you, that is," she stammered, and cursed the blush that crawled up her neck and cheeks. For a moment he didn't answer, and she was sure that she had misunderstood him. Everything around her slowed down, until all she could see was her pale hand against the gray sleeve of his shirt, and all she could hear was a muted murmur of noise around her, almost as though she was listening to a conversation under water.
Or to an unborn baby's heartbeat…
She said yes. This I was not prepared for.
Finally, after a fleeting eternity, he turned back toward her.
"Fine," he said brusquely, extending his hand to her. She glanced from his hand to his face, but his eyes were not on hers. She slid her palm over his and watched his eyes flicker down to consider their joined hands. Then, without another word, he led her to the dance floor.
Hermione knew that there were more than a few couples dancing as they approached, and although she could not see past Professor Snape's strong shoulders, she could sense that the crowd was parting for them as they strode onto the floor. Turning toward her, Severus place his free hand on her waist and pulled her slightly closer to him. Without having to think about it, Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder and they began swaying in time to the music.
Only then did she begin to feel the tiniest twinges of panic ringing gently down her spine. Here was her opportunity…her chance to start the conversation that she had been thinking about for so very long now. And she was going to have only three minutes – four, at the most – to break this extremely precarious ice.
Oh, I can't do this. I'm not prepared. There's not enough time...I don't know where to begin…
"Are you enjoying the party, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked her suddenly. Whether it was the abruptness of his question or the complete lack of ridicule and contempt that usually accompanied his words, she would never know. But it startled her into blurting out a completely honest answer.
"No." He glanced down at her with his trademark cocked eyebrow and she floundered yet again. "I mean, the party is lovely, and I like the music, and, well, the food was great, and…" As she trailed off, she found herself staring at one of the buttons on his shirt, which was engraved with a tiny silver snake, and realized that she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath it; ever so subtle, but illogically calming. Taking a deep breath she looked up at him and smiled. "No. I'm not enjoying the party. I wasn't, anyway. I am enjoying this dance."
Dear gods, she's glorious when she smiles!
Obviously taken aback by her statement, Snape held her gaze for a moment and then looked away.
I should not have said that. That is not what he wanted to hear. He was only making polite conversation, and I…I should not have said that.
They continued to dance.
I should answer her. She paid me a simple compliment; the gentlemanly thing to do is to return it. Even if it was a lie.
"You're a lovely dancer, Miss Granger," he stated, and the noncommittal tone of his voice nearly made her laugh out loud with relief.
Wars are waged, people die, lives spin beyond our control...and Snape is still snarky. Merlin love him!
"Thank you, Professor, as are you. Do you dance often?"
Snorting rather unceremoniously, he shook his head. "Hardly."
The song that they were dancing to was one that Hermione was familiar with, and she recognized that it was reaching its end. Knowing that an opportunity such as this would likely not present itself any time soon, she decided to charge ahead.
"Professor Snape, I've been wondering…well, I've been thinking about you, and…and I guess I just wanted to know if you're okay."
Bugger it all! What is wrong with me? Why am I still intimidated by this man!
"What exactly do you mean by 'okay', Miss Granger?" Though the outward tone of his voice was of bored indifference, Hermione knew that she was not imagining the underlying wariness she heard.
"Well, Sir, we've all been through a difficult time. I would think that you, especially, have experienced a lot of turmoil and probably some crazy emotions, and, well…I think we're all feeling a bit lost and lonely right now, and it helps to talk to people sometimes, so if, you know, you need someone to talk to…." Oh, stop blabbering you silly twit!
She felt him stiffen immediately, and knew that she had gone too far.
"Miss Granger, if I felt the need to speak to someone about my 'feelings' – which I do not – I would do so without the goading of a yammering young woman who purports to know what kind of man I am and – even more laughable – what I have been through." His voice, like black ice, got even quieter as he hissed, "Don't ever presume to know anything about me or my life, Miss Granger. You will be sadly, sadly disappointed."
As the music ended he gave her a cold nod, and said in the most caustic tone she had ever heard, "Thank you for the dance, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure."
And with yet another swirl of green, he was gone.
Harry had managed to dance Ginny off to a corner of the dance floor, where he was able to press himself softly against her and move his lips to her neck. He was losing himself in the feel of the delicate small of her back under his hand, when he suddenly felt her tense. Damn, I'm good! Smiling, he moved his lips up to her ear and whispered, "Let's go for a walk, Gin." Pulling away, he realized that her sudden change had nothing to do with him.
"Harry, look!" He followed her eyes and breathed in sharply.
"What the hell!"
He watched as his best friend and one of his greatest antagonists moved smoothly across the dance floor. His mind was a tumult of thoughts and emotions; How did he get her out there? Why would she be dancing with him? Why must he still be in my life? Why him? Oh, anyone but HIM!
As he, Ginny, and most everyone else in the hall watched, Professor Snape and Hermione danced, oblivious to the eyes on them. Suddenly, Harry saw Snape's step falter. In the next instant, he bent his head low to Hermione's, and a moment later he left her standing alone on the dance floor, staring after him.
"Ginny," he began.
"Go."
Squeezing her hand gently, he made his way across the floor to Hermione, who was still standing there staring toward the door where Snape had left, her mouth slightly open.
"Hermione?" Harry moved so that he could see her face better, and exploded when he glimpsed the tears in her eyes. "Bloody hell, Hermione! What did that bastard do to you!" He put his hand on her arm, and only then did it seem that she noticed his presence.
She turned her chocolate eyes to his, then looked again at the door. Preparing himself to hold her as she cried on his shoulder, Harry was startled to see a small smile start to tease the corners of her mouth.
Young woman.
"I swear, Hermione, tell me what he did to you. I'll hex him halfway to next week if he hurt you. The bloody bastard! Just tell me –"
"Harry." The quiet control in her voice stopped him instantly. Snapping his mouth shut, he stared at her as the smile became a bit more evident. "Harry, all he did was ask me to dance."
"But, but….it's SNAPE!" he sputtered. "He's disgusting, he's malicious, he's…"
"He's a man, Harry. He's just a man. Like you." Now she turned her full grin to him. Dear gods, she's glorious when she smiles.
"And I don't have to be afraid of him anymore."
As she strode purposefully down the corridor, she never once thought about where she was going. Had she been asked later what - or who - she passed on her way, she would have had no answer. She replayed only one scene in her mind; the swell of his shirt with each breath he took, and the irrational sense of peace it brought her.
Stepping through the door to the top of the Astronomy Tower, Hermione saw him immediately. His back was to her, and he was standing at the precise spot where Albus had been hurled over the wall. He turned his head slightly as she approached, and she heard his sigh of impatience.
"What is it now, Miss Granger?"
Walking to his side, she placed her hand on top of his on the cold stone wall.
"My name is Hermione, Severus. And I miss him too."
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all the rights to the characters, all the profits, all the good clothes, and a much nicer car than I do.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews and honest criticisms so far. You have no idea how much they mean to me! Please keep letting me know what you think!
The line, "I suggest you close it before people start to think that you have some sort of Muggle-born genetic flaw!" was inspired by one of my favorite 'Will & Grace' episodes, where Karen tells Will, "Close your mouth, honey, you look like you're missing a chromosome!"
As I wrote the dance scene in my head, the song that I was hearing the band play was "Back to Good" by Matchbox 20. And thus the title.
Rated for later chapters and intended plot development.
This story is dedicated to my husband, who has promised to stand behind me and make bad porno music when it's time to write the sex scenes. I will love you forever, you giant freak of nature.