Ch 18 Revelations
Hermione's POV
Hermione wouldn't necessarily say she had an Oh Moment of realizing her feelings for Severus Snape. But she did have an Oh Moment when she realized that Sirius was catching on. And if he could see it, who else could? She thought she was being discreet, especially since she only discovered her feelings in early February.
She didn't want to even think about what would happen if any one found out that she was harboring romantic feelings for Severus Snape. She didn't even know how she would go about explaining herself.
She was aware that in the last couple of months there was a shift in how she not only perceived Severus Snape but felt about him. She couldn't quite name it. She found herself drawn to stand by his side or sit next to him even when Sirius was in their company. She wanted to talk to him about something from her day that excited her instead of telling Harry and Ron. She cared about his well-being and worried when she knew he had to leave for a Death Eater meeting.
It wasn't until one night the two of them were silently reading in the Room of Requirement. When she grew frustrated with the lack of progress, she looked up and saw how Snape was silently and slowly turning each page. Delicately handling the book with the same precision and care as she did. She was memorized by the solid yet soft-grip he had on the object. For some reason, the simple act made her flush. And she quickly went back to her own reading. She easily assumed it was because she was afraid he would catch her staring but it wasn't until that night she woke up in a sweat. Her entire body felt like it was overheating.
Not from any nightmare but a rather pleasant dream. A little too pleasant if the ache she felt in between her legs was any indication. It wasn't a sex dream. But it might as well since it had the same effect of hypnotizing her with passion and intimacy.
It was then she realized she was attracted to the man.
And then proceeded to have a mini-breakdown over the fact that she was attracted to her professor. It felt so cliché and typical for a teenage girl to have a crush on at least one of her male teachers. And despite being 20 years older than her, he was the closest in age. But after she pulled herself together she analyzed her thoughts and memories to try to decipher how this could have possibly happened.
It was obvious that this newfound attraction began after they started their secret partnership. She guessed that in the privacy of their secret meet-ups when he was not being overly rude for sake of pretenses she began to see another side to him. The real side that she guessed very few had the luxury to see. He was sarcastic and blunt, but knowledgeable and honest. She couldn't recall a single time he directly lied to her. And coming from a man that lied for a living that was saying something. He was also able to understand her in a way that she would usually have to explain. But he knew. He could see past her shields. He had seen into her mind and was able to understand her heart. Not many people have such transparency. At least on her end.
It didn't take her long to come to the conclusion that she was attracted to his intelligence which her subconscious transformed into physical.
It wasn't that she found him ugly. He wasn't the most handsome by societal standards. He was tall and thin, his skin was awfully pale, sickly so, and his nose was hooked which often added to his intimidating stature. But when he wasn't sneering or angry his face was quite pleasant. There was an allure to his darkness that did appeal to her.
She never really experienced physical attraction before. Despite the claim that teenagers were driven by their hormones. Hermione never had time to consider or explore these new feelings. Being in the middle of a war and having your best friend constantly in death-defying situations tend to put someone off the mood.
But now was not the time for her body to be screaming at her that she is experiencing a sexual awakening.
And the subject of her desire just had to be her teacher.
At least there are definitely worse options.
She couldn't say that she understood him as well as he understood her. There was much about his life that was a mystery. But she was able to piece some things together. She could tell that he grew up in an abusive home. Much worse than Harry's time with the Dursleys. She was able to guess by how old the muggle books he had on his shelves that he was raised in a muggle community. He was incredibly loyal and selfless. Often experience high amounts of torture on behalf of spying for the Order. He could be ruthless and vindictive when the mood took him.
But he wasn't as heartless as the rest of the school thought. The man loved potions there was never any doubt in her mind. The way he taught and spoke of the subject showed him love and appreciation for the art. And though he constantly applied for the Defense Post and this year was finally granted his wish, it didn't have the same appeal for him. He spoke with respect to the subject matter. But Hermione realized he wasn't doing this for him. He was doing this for the students.
He was undeniably the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this class has had. He had expanded their collection of defensive and offensive skills. He taught them how to fight. He was teaching them how to survive. He was preparing them for the war. Because on some level he cared about their wellbeing. Despite the fact that he hates the students.
She had always respected the man. He was a brilliant Potions Master. There was never any doubt about it. But somehow this turned personal for her.
He showed he cared when he risked his life to rescue her from Malfoy Manor. When he tenderly healed her arm and even carried her to her bed. When he respected her wished to keep not only what happened to her a secret but also the information about the Horcruxes from Dumbledore.
She could blame some of his actions on odds, risk assessment and opportunity. But at the end of the day, he does care. And in particular, it may be possible he cared about her.
She did notice that he acted differently with her than with others. She wasn't blind to see that. But personally, she chalked it up to him being concerned with how she is dealing with her time spent at Malfoy Manor. And yet both her heart and mind were telling her there was more to this than simple obligation and general concern for her wellbeing.
She tried not to let her thoughts think about the implication.
It was one thing for her to have a crush on her teacher. But it was another thing for him to have a crush on her. She was so much younger than him and his student. Though student-teacher relationships aren't illegal they are highly frowned upon and could result in his firing. Though she knew he didn't care too much about that, she did. She could be extremely bossy and a perfectionist. She was a lot to handle on her good days. She was aware that in her excitement usually about a new book she appeared a little neurotic. She also wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world. Her eyes were plain brown. Her hair was curly and was often left wild and untamed. She wasn't the most curvaceous. And she was often weighed down by her book bag. Though she doubted such things would matter to him.
But none of this matters. For a man whose life is so complicated, he would want something simple. And nothing about this was simple. And that was assuming he felt something more than friendship with her.
On top of all that she wasn't sure how she felt about all of this. It was a silly little crush. And she was just over analyzing it like everything else in her life. But this was posing a bit of a distraction that might inevitably end up as a problem to their work efficiency.
Hermione could at least compartmentalize her feelings for him.
Well at least she thought she could
There were moments when she thought she had slipped up. But to her surprise and secret delight, he would reveal something a little more about himself.
Hermione wasn't a fan of Valentine's day. It was an unnecessary holiday that prompted the need that people had to be dating in order to be happy. But that wasn't always true. Today should be referred to as happy single awareness day. For all of the single people who were happy being alone. One of her biggest dislikes was the unnecessary passing of gifts. People should be able to give someone they like a gift any day of the year. There shouldn't be a designated day. The other problem was that she hated receiving gifts. She always has for some reason, though she couldn't really explain. She tolerated Christmas since she gave her own gifts. But her birthday and Valentine's Day were a no go for her. But some people don't seem to get it.
She was meeting up with Professor Snape in the Room of Requirement. But before leaving the Great Hall to meet him she received an owl with an abundance of flowers. There were at least 2 dozen roses. Both red and pink. She sighed in frustration. She didn't have time to run up to her dorm to drop them off. So they had to come with her. And of course, Professor Snape would notice and definitely comment on it.
"Flowers? From a secret admirer?" He said mockingly. He was well aware from their occulemency lessons of her aversion to gifts. He was leaning against the wall when she entered with his arms crossed over his chest.
"It's not a secret." She tossed the bouquet onto a table the room provided. "Sirius sent me a giant bouquet and I don't have the heart to tell him that not only would these all die in about three days and my dorm room will be covered with dead petals. That is if Crookshanks doesn't get into these first. And that I don't like roses. They are so cliché. I am not a big fan of flowers but come on, anything is better than roses."
He smirked at her commentary. "You do realize how many women would gasp at that statement." Snape drawled.
Oh, she definitely knew that. Her roommates will no doubt surround her with questions about the flowers. One of the reasons they never got along was that she wasn't traditionally girly compared to them. And of course, they had nothing in common. She went back over to the table to carefully lay down her bookbag and wand. "I just have never gotten excited about flowers before. Give me a good book and that will get me excited." She was lucky she was facing away from him. So he didn't see her wince at her words. She completely forgot that he had been lending books from his private collection these past few weeks. She almost huffed at the realization, no wonder she had a thing for the man.
She was pulled out of her musings by his voice. "I never saw the romantic aspect of flowers. Like you said they are pointless, they die in a few days. And though they may hold physical beauty it doesn't last. But that is life. I believe that is why people leave flowers at graves. It symbolizes life."
She didn't really like that symbolism; it seemed almost like a mockery to taunt the dead with what they no longer have. "It also symbolizes peace." She turned to face him bracing her hands on the table behind her.
"I favor that notion. It's the only reason I ever gave my mother flowers."
"Is she still alive?" Hermione asked softly and delicately.
"No. Not for a long time." He didn't sound sad over this piece of information. He spoke matter of factly. " I like to think she has finally achieved what I will never have."
"Peace." Hermione mused. "Sometimes I wonder if it is still possible."
His eyes snapped up to meet hers. "It has to be. Otherwise what the hell are we fighting for." There was an intensity in the rawness of his eyes and words. It was then she realized for a brief moment before he straightened up that he allowed his occulemency shields to lower. She got a glimpse into an unguarded Severus Snape. And she really liked what she saw. More so than she should have.
The real man was damaged and flawed, a difference from the usually composed and confident man that she now saw once again standing in front of him. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she found herself relating to. For a moment she recognized those eyes. It was the same eyes she saw when he was healing her arm and when he was talking about the dark mark. Despite the horrors and trauma that haunted him, he was still strong. He persevered through the fire and constantly walked back through it so that others didn't have to ever experience the same suffering he has.
In the end, she concluded that it was not her fault for developing feelings for the man. How could anyone not after seeing and experiencing the good that was in him?
She was sitting in his private quarters alone. This was definitely improper. But desperate circumstances meant desperate actions. And she was desperate.
They were having a floo call with Sirius when Snape suddenly stood up straight. His entire body visibly tensed. He hissed through clenched teeth. It was then she noticed he was grabbing his left forearm.
He had told her to leave. And she considered following his direction. The expression on his face. The one where he told her there was no room for argument and his word was final, made her want to leave. But it was the look in his eyes pleading for her to go that made her stay. Her need to reassure herself about his well-being was all-consuming. She didn't care about curfew, property, rules, or how reckless she was being. Or how angry he would be to find her there. She just had to know. She couldn't fall asleep, she wouldn't be able to.
She was startled when she heard the door bang close. She didn't even hear it open. He came walking in slowly as if careful of his movements. He looked as if he was lagging. His face was paler than normal and almost had a yellow tinge to it. But it was his eyes that scared her. They were so dark and empty as if void of all emotion.
It didn't take long for him to notice her presence. He saw her sitting on the couch. "I told you to leave," he said hoarsely.
"You're injured," she pointed out, now noticing the blood on his hand and how his clothes were ripped and tattered in some places.
"I am fine," he snapped.
"No, you aren't." She started to raise her voice as she started to stand.
"Get out," he growled. But she noticed that if he was truly angry his voice would have been lower and it would have come out more like a hiss.
"No," she stated firmly. He looked at her in a mixture of anger and disbelief. "You need help."
"I can help myself," He argued as he slowly and delicately made his way to the bathroom.
She trailed after him in disbelief over his stubbornness. "Not with the state of your injuries."
"You don't even know the state of my injuries," he sniped back as he began to wash his hands. She could see from behind him how the water turned from clear to pink.
"Then let me see.'' She was only half aware that she was telling her professor to de-robe in front of her. "Or at least go to Madam Pomphrey. But we both know she would make you stay the night in a bed while she performed a full physical. I am already here and can help you." He met her eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Please, sir. Let me help."
For a brief moment she thought he would say no.
And then he slowly turned around and leaned back against the sink. He didn't say anything, just started to unbutton his frock coat. He turned his head to the side to avoid looking at her while he did so. But soon after each button was released another inch of skin was revealed. And then soon enough he was shrugging it off his shoulders, getting caught on the sink before it fell to the ground in a heap less pile.
She had to hold in her gasp. It wasn't the blood covering his chest or the way his skin was ripped open that shocked her. No, it was those scars that littered his skin. They were all of different shapes and sizes. Some were puckered and some were indented. Some were just angry red lines criss crossing against his skin. Some were patches or red and white and looked like they were made from either burns or being flayed.
She could see him carefully watching and scrutinizing her reaction. She realized that he was looking for disgust. He didn't want to show her because he was insecure.
She tried to mask her expression. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was afraid of him and what he has been through. She knew that he probably killed people and torture them. She didn't want to think about how many of those were before and after he became a spy. She knew the answer wasn't so simple. The world wasn't divided between black and white. There were shades in between full of colour. And she could see the red that marred his pale skin
She didn't have time to admire his actual physique now that he was actually shirtless. He was tall and lean. She could see the edges of his bones and a thin trail of hair leading down below his navel to the waist of his trousers. But later she would think about it. Seeing him shirtless would just add and increase her dreams about him.
She met his eye and smirked. "I guess this makes us even." She realized how tense this moment was and that he wouldn't appreciate her trying to comfort him so instead she masked her concern with humor. She wasn't doing a very good job.
He looked confused for a moment. "You saw me shirtless and now this is my chance."
He narrowed his eyes. He didn't seem to realize that she was teasing him. He thought it was an accusation. "You were unconscious and it was for medical purposes." He also forgot to mention that Madam Pomphrey was supervising and that she was wearing a bra. So it wasn't as if he did see her half-naked. It probably wouldn't have bothered her since her life was on the line. She tried not to think of the other reasons why it wouldn't bother her.
"So is this" She moved towards him and began healing the lacerations on his chest. She made sure that she didn't touch him. She didn't want him to reflexively move back or stop her. He could strain his injuries more than he already did just by coming back here. It seemed her lessons with Madam Pomphrey actually were paying off.
He relaxed slightly and watched her every movement like a hawk. While she took the chance to examine every inch of clear and flawed skin in sight. "I didn't gawk," he remarked.
"I wouldn't be mad if you did," she said offhandedly. She didn't even realize at the time what she said or how he tensed up at the words and looked at her in disbelief. She was too focused on healing him. It wasn't until she left his room when he started to put his shirt on that she realized what she said. She quickly left his room before the blush on her cheeks grew any more redder.
Hermion was completely out of breath. Her heart was racing and she could feel the blood pounding in her head. But as she lay there on the floor she didn't find any of those things calming down. In fact, they were worsening with Severus Snape here beside her.
She should have realized in hindsight that this was a bad idea. The two of them so close together. Touching. Sweating.
Out of all the things to do with someone when you have feelings for them that you are trying to ignore, hand-to-hand fighting was not the best plan.
At first, it was fine. The two of them sparring. She used the opportunity to let off some steam and pent-up tensions. Unfortunately, she didn't realize at the time that all of her pent-up tension was sexual and involved the man she was fighting with.
She found herself growing frustrated every time he would successfully block one of her punches or kicks. Despite never intentionally trying to hurt him. She figured she would have at least made contact by now. He was having much more fun. He even had a smirk on his face.
She started pushing herself harder. And admittingly got sloppy in the process. He ended up grabbing her right arm when she tried to hit him and then her left. She tried to kick her leg at his knee. But he saw it coming. She was only standing on one foot with both her arms trapped in his. He ended up using her own momentum against her. And that was how she found herself on her back with Snape on top of her. He still had hold of her arms but now they were pinned on either side of her head. She was lucky they made the Room of Requirement place a mat on the floor otherwise this would have hurt a lot more. But, pain was not even close to the feeling currently building up in her chest.
Despite his weight not being directly on her. She could still feel the heat radiating off his body. It never occurred to her how improper of a position this was. She could only focus on the intimacy she was feeling with him. She had touched his skin before and he had touched hers. And yet she never felt physically closer to him than at this moment.
She didn't try to escape or even move. She didn't dare to blink and break the connection forming between them. His lips were parted and he was breathing heavily. Her own chest was rising and falling rapidly. The smirk he had previously had all but vanished. His face was completely neutral. It was his eyes that revealed everything. His eyes were darkening and growing with the unmistakable look of desire. A flame was brewing in his eyes. She could see it in his naturally black eyes. No doubt they mirrored her own.
His eyes flickered breath to her lips and she had to repress the urge to moan. Especially when he licked his lips.
She could feel her breath catch in her throat when he began to lower himself closer to her.
She had to blink herself out of her stupor when he rolled off of her and laid beside her on the ground.
There was no point in pretending any longer. He saw right through her. He didn't have to be a legitimence to know what she had been thinking. And he couldn't possibly have thought that what was brewing between them only started a minute ago. After a moment of catching her breath she could hear his own breathing even out. "How long have you known?"
"I suspected it two months ago." Well, that was a shock. And she could feel her breath hitch at the admission. "But I wasn't able to confirm it until three weeks ago."
"I am surprised I was able to hide it from you for that long." he didn't say anything. But she knew that if she looked at him he would be nodding.
"And when did you suspect me?"
"I was never sure. Sometimes I thought I would fool myself into seeing things that didn't really mean what I thought they would mean. You can be extremely difficult to read." It seemed so trivial now. Constantly wondering and worrying. The hiding. All it took to get answers was asking him. But she was always afraid of what the answers were. And what they would mean. Even right now. Though she was relieved over not having to second guess everything she said or did in his presence. She was afraid of what this would mean.
"Hmm That's putting it lightly," he mused.
"So what do we do now?" He had been thinking about this as well. And though she never came up with a good idea. Surely he must have. Even if it wasn't the same as what she wanted.
He could just imagine him licking his lips while he thought about what to say. "It would probably be for the best for us to forget about this until it passes. I am your teacher and 20 years older than you. This is wrong," he said wearily. Though even he didn't seem to believe it. He said it as if he had to not because he wanted to.
"I am of age. It's not illegal. It's just not right." Even when she said it she knew it was a lie. To others, it may not be right. But to her it did. And he would have been beating himself up a lot more if he didn't agree.
She turned to look at him. Searching for answers neither of them knew the answers to. At this point, they were just guessing but someone needed to make a call. And right now it couldn't be her. She was too emotionally involved. And though so was he. He was better at relying on his instincts in heightened situations than she was. "So what do we do?"
He closed his head and sighed. She watched as he took a few deep breaths. In from his nose and out from his mouth. "I think it would perhaps be for the best if we simply just let things fall naturally." Yes, it would be for the best. It would be the most appropriate course of action. So why did it make Hermione's stomach curl up in nausea?
"Right now we both need something easy in our lives," Hermione said, trying to validate their reasoning and calm herself down. "And nothing about this would be easy."
"Then it's decided," Severus said with a low and almost quiet voice. As if he too was disappointed.
Yes it was
It felt so sudden even though Hermione knew that this was coming. She had been telling herself that she had to let her feelings go for weeks now. That nothing more could come out of it. And she just needed to hear him say that. It sucked and it hurt a lot more than she expected. She now understood when people said heartbreak felt like your world was crashing down around you. Hermione for a moment lost sight of reason and rationality and allowed herself to get her hopes up. She should have known better. This wasn't his fault. Nor was it hers. But it still hurts. And she tried to repress the tears starting to well up in her eyes. She didn't want him to see how much this was affecting her.
But he knew. He looked her way before turning back to face the ceiling. He couldn't bear to look at her right now. And she couldn't blame him. "I'm sorry.'
"Don't apologize. This was out of your control," she said in a shaky breath.
"Yours too." She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself and her breathing. She was too overwhelmed by what happened. She needed to regain control. This was the best and most logical solution. She just had to keep telling herself until she believed it. She didn't say anything. Nor did he. There was nothing left to say.
She could feel the movement as he stood up. Leaving her lying on the floor alone. She could hear his steps falter as he made for the door. Perhaps he stopped to turn to look at her. Maybe he opened his mouth to say something. Before ultimately deciding to leave. She could feel the floor and air vibrate when the door slammed behind him.
And just like that, they were suddenly strangers again.
