Chapter 4
Her heart is racing.
It's nothing like that time in the Shrieking Shack with Lupin and Sirius, or when she brazenly lied to Umbridge, leading her into the Forbidden Forest. This is entirely different, and safely out of his office, behind his closed door, she can fully acknowledge it. Gently, she leans her head on the door, breathing out through her mouth and gives herself a moment to catch up with herself before she can be on her way again. Her eyes close as she bites onto her lower lip, her breathing continuing in a shaky, quite unsteady rhythm through her nose.
Oh.
It's nerves and excitement all at once, and it's most probably normal. If she could pry herself from his door, get to a Muggle library and find a book on human emotions in the developmental stage of adolescence, she'd find out how to properly name this reaction of hers, she's sure. Even though she doesn't know what to refer to herself as in the current situation, she at least knows that it's nothing bad – it's quite nice, actually. So nice, in fact, that she releases her lip and opens her eyes, quickly placing her free hand over her mouth to keep herself from bursting into a smile.
Oh, dear, she's made quite a shift of things.
A tad stimulated by the realisation, she takes her lip between her teeth again, dropping her hand from her mouth and clenching it into a soft fist before it reaches her side. The action itself is not a very conscious one on her part, but even so, her mind is alert enough to conclude that she's not behaving properly like this. She absolutely needs to calm down, she commands herself, and in the next breath, giving herself no grace for preparation, abruptly peels herself from against the door, to take off and away from his office to her next class.
In hurried steps, she walks down the corridor, the consistent sound of her racing heart keeping her company all the way to her class. Entering the class, she doesn't even pay full attention to the excuse that she gives the teacher, something about another teacher detaining her longer than she expected, she thinks she says – she's not even sure if she mentions his name. He believes her, not even giving her a second glance, and she, thankful that he does, scans the classroom for the emptiest bunch of desks and chairs.
Without Ron and Harry here, she's glad to have no one to sit next to; she wouldn't like anyone to be made privy to her racing heart. She goes over to her preferred seat and absently, as she takes her seat, places her free hand over her heart, rotating it there in a soothing manner. It does nothing to ease it, and so she tries again, rubbing lightly to provoke a relieving reaction. Again, nothing happens, causing her to drop her hand in defeat. As secretly as she can, she looks around the classroom, somewhat ready to find everyone looking at her, having noted her strange behaviour.
There's no one looking her way, thankfully.
Everyone is carrying on with their lives, but if they really knew the truth about how she shouted at him, how she told him things that she didn't want to at first, and how she heard him confess things to her, they'd have a reason to look at her funnily. No one is paying her any mind now, however, if she doesn't get pull herself together and concentrate, she'll be attracting attention to herself soon.
She should behave, she determines to herself, pulling in a long breath and looking down as a way of garnering the appropriate strength to do so.
It's precisely the wrong thing to have done, she realises too late, because seeing the book that he gave her for tonight's lesson set on her lap, sets her nerves off with a new fervour that she's suddenly clutching at the book as though the air will snatch it from her grasp. She's itching to read it, not just because it's a book, but also because he gave it to her.
Oh, she's utterly lost.
A long sigh leaves her as she quickly looks away from the book to compose herself. She's unable to resist looking down at the book again, however, and this time with a smile that she doesn't try to fight, clutches the book even harder than before.
The end of this class cannot come soon enough.
26Chapters
'I have some reading to do,' she quickly excuses to her friends before they can ask her why she's rushing out. 'I'll see you in Herbology.'
Already, she wants to be out of the Potions classroom. If they'd pack up faster and make it out of the classroom with her, she wouldn't have to wait too much to open the book. Although already impatient with how slow they're gathering their belongings, she says nothing about it to them. Instead, she stares at Harry who is doing a far worse job than Ron is at packing his things.
'Don't you mean lunch?' Ron wonders, putting the last of his things into his bag.
'Maybe I'll come,' she says, already sure that she won't be going to lunch today. 'I really do have to read.'
How she wishes that she could make them understand that she wants to leave, just by staring at them as she's doing.
'Fine,' Ron accepts, 'Herbology, then.'
Pleasantly taken aback, she wonders, 'Really?' to which Ron only shrugs, clearly not bothered enough about it to make a comment.
It's the last thing that she expected to come from him, but maybe that they all have a free period between now and lunchtime, has him quite easy to accept whatever comes his way. It isn't that she needed his permission to leave, but all the same glad that he's not making a fuss about it, she hops over to Ron and quickly pulls him into a hug.
With a grateful smile, she holds onto him, mostly happy at the liberation to leave them here by themselves. He puts his arms around her as well, not as tightly as she's holding onto him, but he surprises her again to the point where she holds on just a little longer. Maybe it's only her, but Ron is being wonderful today. She could kiss him, really. Soon, with one last grateful squeeze, she lets go of him, looking at his face, and when he sheepishly smiles at her, she tells him a cheery, 'See you later,' before taking off out of the classroom.
When she gets to the nearest bathroom, before opening it, she stands at the door to catch her breath and compose herself. She waits outside of the door at first, counting to ten and then only closes her hand around the handle to open it. Speedily, she steps into the bathroom, heading straight to the mirrors to confirm just how good a job she's done of keeping herself together. It's been two periods since she left his office, and she still feels all sorts of things happening inside of her body.
She has to get a hold of herself!
As she begins to concentrate on the mirror, the bathroom door opens and looking to see who's come in, she views Lavender and Parvati walking in. She notices how they both shoot her funny looks, nearly identical, and while she doesn't really care about them doing that, she can't help it wonder if there's something on her face that has them looking at her that way. Curious, she turns back to the mirror, very determined to examine herself in the best way.
Her reflection stares at her and for the first time in weeks, she really pays attention to how she really looks like.
There she is, Hermione Jean Granger, and she's…
There's a shine in her eyes that she hasn't been able to see in weeks. A sparkle even brighter than the Headmaster's twinkling eyes, is what she's looking at. Before, when she looked at herself in the mirror, only looking for any errors before starting the school day, she saw only a hard expression and tightly set eyes. No smile lines showed around her eyes, but now she's transformed. Even her cheeks have a little colour.
It makes her smile.
She wouldn't call herself the most beautiful looking person, but she's not the worst looking either. She's a normal looking person and she likes herself. She could look different, maybe… Her hair, she likes to wear down, because it's less time consuming to try to style it, but the few times that she's styled it, it gave her a different look.
She should experiment.
With her hands, she gathers her hair, make shifting it into a bun below her neck. No, she doesn't like that look, and so brings it high above her head. Yes, that definitely looks better. She doesn't have high cheekbones, but there's something about having her hair high above her head that's flattering to her cheeks. She looks good, to be honest. Maybe she should wear this look more often; it looks really nice.
Smiling to herself in the mirror, she lowers her hands, taking her bun to the back of her head and that's when she hears small scoffs to the side of her. Looking that way without releasing her hair, she finds that Lavender and Parvati are staring at her. A little bit embarrassed to be caught in the act, she glares at them, letting her hair fall back to its usual position. She'd forgotten about them, otherwise she would have cast a privacy charm around herself. The two friends look at each other and then back at her, before bursting out into laughter.
It stings that they do that, but she decides that it won't do to fight with them. Even two, they'd be unevenly matched against her if words escalated to magic.
She has more important things to worry about anyway, so she mentally shakes herself into place and then storms into one of the stalls, locking it behind her. For her protection and privacy, she casts the necessary shielding charms around it and then pulls the lid down to sit on the toilet. Her bag, she places on the floor, pulling the book from it. For a while, she only stares at it in her hands, also remembering that he gave her back the rolls.
The scrolls can wait for tonight when she's in bed, she decides. It's the book that is useful to her now. He said to read only the first chapter. She can't be sure how much it could be, so she needs to take advantage of any time that she can get. That's why with a smile, she gets to opening the book.
26Chapters
Life has a magical way of pressing in places that do not need to be pressed.
Where was life during the previous weeks, when she would have liked to have met him alone in the corridors by chance? Why did it have to be today, now, when she's barely holding onto her nerves from before, that she meets him in the corridor on her way to Herbology?
Why is this happening to her?
Is the whole day meant to go by with her heart beating too fast at any given second?
Or is life mocking her, indeed proving to her that she's hopeless at this sort of thing?
She nearly ducked out of the way when she looked up and saw him walking towards her. So close to turning on her heel she was, that only the thought of later explaining herself to him, made her stop at the very last moment. It was a stupid decision, of course, now that he's about to catch up with her. She should've kept on walking, keeping suspicion off herself, but no, she had the brilliant idea to stop.
She does keep her eyes pinned on his, however, accepting his advancing on her as he does it.
Should she say something to him? And what should it be?
He nears her and with their eyes still on each other, he walks right past her, his reaction to her completely non-existent. It's when he's made it two steps away from her that she hears a faint, 'Miss Granger,' and her heart stupidly makes to leap out of her chest like it wants to go after him.
Nervously reacting, it being the only defence she can protect herself with, she breathes out a small laugh as her eyes briefly close.
One thing is for sure to her, whatever else is not; if she accidentally runs into him again before their lesson tonight, they'll be no hope for her. That is unless she can find a proper moment with herself and put her everything, absolutely everything to do with Professor Severus Snape, in order.
26Chapters
She could eat, but the butterflies in her stomach won't let her - those persistent little bugs. Not that she really minds, though.
For the fourth time, she looks up at the staff table to see if he still hasn't come to eat, and finding that he hasn't, returns to her plate of food. Again, she's ready to attempt to get a bit of food in, but the food honestly looks very dull.
It's that she doesn't have an appetite. More than eat, she would have liked and preferred to see him at the table. Even just a small glimpse would have been enough to reassure her. She has yet to deal with herself, but one little look from over a distance wouldn't have done her any harm, would it?
Anxious, that's what she is, she decides.
Dinner makes their meeting only a little time away and she's anxious for their lesson to start already. She's not sure how seeing him at the table would have eased her, she only knows that seeing him -maybe- would've been assuring.
Oh.
26Chapters
His door is wide open when she reaches it, and though she's just disciplined herself to remain unfazed as she walks into his office, she pauses to catch her breath before stepping into his office. The excuse that she tells herself is that her manners still need her to be polite and that respect should still be in place, but really, her knock is only an extra step to keep herself reeled in before she has to interact with him.
'Professor?' she calmly calls, following her knock.
As is like him, he responds to her call only by looking at her and then indicating for her to come in. She tries not smile at that, but she doesn't think that she manages it quite well, the thing that saves her from being seen being that he returns to the items on his table.
She'd like to ask if she should close the door, but suddenly changes her mind, getting a better idea yet. While stepping in, she turns back and points her wand at the door, commanding it to close. As it does, it makes an audible noise, which he doesn't acknowledge.
'Sit down,' he invites, showing her to the visitor's seat at his table.
She almost misses him looking at the door that she just closed when she pulls out the chair, only, his head turn gives him away. While she doesn't follow his stare, she does hold her breath, waiting for him to something about it to her. He doesn't mention it, leaving her free to set both her wand and the book on the table's surface. And then looking up, she sees how his eyes travel to her head and a frown crosses his face. Again, he says nothing, but apparently, he's noticed.
The thought secretly makes her feel a little jittery.
Putting her hair up into a high bun had been a last minute addition, urged by the thought that in being practical in their lessons, her hair would get in the way and then most likely irritate him. He's said nothing, so he must not mind whatever she decides to do with her hair. She didn't think that he would notice at all, although apparently, the change is evident to him. It's fitting, she reasons, considering that he does work for the Order and has the Dark Mark: he might be very good at noticing things that he shouldn't.
'I went through the chapter, Professor,' she begins, 'and the entire introduction is really fascinating.'
He looks at her simply, which makes her feel a bit judged all of a sudden. Maybe she shouldn't be using that word when it comes to the dark arts.
'I probably shouldn't feel that way about the dark arts, should I, Professor?' she asks, wanting him to tell him something, anything – as long as he says something.
'By definition, what are the dark arts?' smoothly comes from him, his eyes intently fixed on hers.
'The display and performance, be it physical or non tangible, of deeds that are deemed abnormal or otherwise inappropriate to what is usually taken as acceptable where magic is concerned,' she tells him, making sure not to drop her gaze from his.
His most visible and immediate response is not what she would have like to see, but she sees his second frown of the evening all the same. Whether displeased with her answer, or he just doesn't like the way in which she gave it, she can't be sure. She only knows that he feels a way enough to frown about it.
'In essence, Miss Granger,' he verbally responds after some time, not necessarily agreeing with her it seems, 'the dark arts are simply a science that is dedicated to altering the natural state and functioning of the human body. In select cases, the natural use of an object as well, but wholly, the science is constantly looking for ways in which it can disrupt the natural course of something. It seeks to be powerful and controlling, dominating in a manner that paints it the victor over nature. The dark arts, Miss Granger, are meant to drown one in limitless ambition, for that is how its seduction works to do.'
Thoughtfully, she nods, too interested in what he has to say. He's overflowing with knowledge on the subject, and so deeply too. It's impressive.
Hearing him teach her from memory is nothing, seeing as he rarely uses textbooks when he teaches them, but even she can't deny that there's a small difference from the classroom and now. In the class, he addresses a multitude of students, possibly under contractual obligation, when in here, it's for her alone. And of his own making, no less.
'And that is how the dark arts are fascinating,' he says as if responding to a question that was asked. 'Simple fascination does not equal to love for it. Having grown up in a Muggle household, I'm sure that you can understand that as those Muggle forensic experts and counsellors have an immense interest in understanding the criminal mind, they do not love the acts of criminals.'
He is absolutely right.
'My dad loves those medical detective shows,' she fondly remembers, that way accepting his point. 'He's always- I understand, Professor.'
Only silently raising an eyebrow at first, he then says, 'Then don't think yourself abominable to be fascinated by the dark arts-'
That's touching of him to say, to assure.
'-Fascination leads to a thirst for understanding, and understanding the dark arts, provides a means to conquer it. In order to defeat what you are fighting, you have to recognise and understand it.'
Again, she nods, completely hearing what he said, but it also makes her brain drift to something. Harry keeps saying that he loves the dark arts, however, his recent explanation gives a little bit of what it could be like for him in truth. She quietly looks at him for a moment, the only time needed to make the decision, before it's too long and she talks herself out of it.
'May I ask you a question, sir?'
Like her question is no surprise to him, he wants to know, 'It's not concerning the text, I take it?'
Otherwise, she would have just asked him, he probably understands. She can appreciate his understanding, but the question had to be asked. Slowly, she plans to define the space that they are in and by doing little testing things to see his reactions, she will know how far she may go with him. There's no manual on this man, which she can study and be up to date with and considering that she'd like to know him, she'll have to resort to finding out one by one, everything about him. She wants to.
'It's not,' she confirms and he says nothing to that.
Someone should call her mad, but she takes his silence to mean that she can ask him what she wants to.
'Do the dark arts fascinate you?'
He responds with nothing again, and while she's taking liberties in assuming that they in fact do, she believes it. If she's wrong, it's up to him to correct her.
'Sir,' she leans forwards in her chair, 'is there someone who understands this about you?'
It's a deeply personal question, and she should be ready to be reprimanded, but unless she tests, she will never know. And she wants to know.
'Are you asking to know if I tell this sort of thing to every person who crosses my path, Miss Granger?'
Funny that he chooses to respond that way. He's not telling her off precisely, but the implication that she should be cautious of how she proceeds is there in his tone. Also, he's just told her that yes, the dark arts do indeed fascinate him.
'Not really,' she shakes her head. 'I only meant... Maybe people believe that you love dark arks – that you're a dark wizard in disguise. Maybe if they knew the truth...'
Harry. She's specifically thinking about Harry, only, when he does not give her an answer other than to keep his eyes on her, she resigns not to push him. Small steps, she reminds herself. Her path to knowing him should be considerate more than greedy for information.
'What are we doing tonight, Professor?' she changes the subject rather.
Missing no breath between her question and his answer, he says, 'Do you recall your last interaction with me in your fourth year?'
She moves her head in a nod, at the same time wondering if there's something in particular about how she behaved with him that day, that's important to this meeting.
'Are your feelings still the same?' he wants to know.
She nearly questions which feelings he is talking about, but then quickly uses her brain and decides on the Mark on his arm being what he's referring to. Hopefully that's what he means.
'I'm not afraid, if that is what you are asking,' she replies with confidence. 'Hardly. I have experienced too much since then, to truly be afraid of something resembling a tattoo. The events from the Quidditch World Cup had still been fresh in my mind then, but I have grown up since then, Professor. I at least know how to cast a successful Patronus, if nothing else against the dark arts.'
'The dark arts are more than just something that can be fought by a Patronus, Miss Granger,' he firmly states, making as if he wants to get up from his seat.
She knows that, but now that's mentioned it, there's something that she'd like.
'Can you teach me how to send a message with my Patronus then, Professor?'
Sounding amused, even when he doesn't look it one bit, he wonders, 'That's your priority?'
'Well, no,' she tells him honestly. 'I would've loved to learn Occlumency and Legilimency as well.'
Her reading is able to take her only so far, if she has no one to practice it with.
'Perhaps at a later time,' is his surprising reply, because while their conversation is easy, he's not supposed to easily agree to what she wants, is he?
'But you'll teach me how to send a message with a Patronus now?' she tests more than hopes to hear him say yes.
He didn't particularly say no yet, meaning that there's still a chance, even tiny.
'After this lesson, perhaps,' he appears to concede. 'Now,' he places a hand on the arm with the Mark, 'may I?'
She gives her consent and he manually opens his cloak sleeve, the shirt cuff buttons following. Rolling back both materials, he bares his Dark Mark to her eyes.
'This is what you will be learning about for now: marking curses.'
His voice is smooth, so unaffected, that she's nearly convinced that now would be a good time to ask him why he has the Mark and is part of the Order. What she believes about him is that he's working for the Order to see what the other side is doing, bringing that back to the Order. She wants to ask him how he came to have it, but then she looks up at him and all that fades away, to give way for a peculiar sense of sympathy for him.
Doesn't it bother him to have? Is he really fine with it being on his skin like that?
'Is it possible to remove it, sir?' she questions and afraid to hear him say that it cannot be, she holds her breath.
'Most marking curses,' he begins, 'when attended to before they can heal on their own or before a certain amount of time has passed, can be removed. It's when allowed to heal, that they become permanent and part of the one that they are branded to. Marking curses are different according to the caster, although most can be removed if attended to in time. It is a matter of recognising the purpose of the mark and then uprooting its foundation.'
That's useful to know, she supposes, but she still doesn't know if his Mark can be removed or not. It would be a shame if it can't be - his complexion makes it stand out even more.
'This,' she points at the Mark, 'can never be removed, can it?'
'It faded once,' is his dry reply.
'When he disappeared,' she assumes more than wants to know.
It must be a mark tied to him, and so should be specific to him and no one else. It reminds her of her own jinx. Also, this being the second time that he's showing her his Mark, it's only right that she shares something with him as well.
'I jinxed someone with a mark,' she confesses. 'She can get rid of it, but she doesn't want to. Could I remove it?'
'Miss Edgecombe,' he says and when she nods, asks, 'Your spell was specific and detailed, was it not?'
'It was, but she will never be sorry. I'm not sorry either,' she frowns at the thought of being apologetic, 'but if I could reverse it...'
Although she doesn't carry the burden of what she did, she'd like the knowledge of being able to do something about it.
'You cannot,' he says simply. 'Hexes are not curses. Curses by definition are meant to invoke affliction, coming about by intent, whereas hexes are based on the temporary emotions of an individual; thus already coming with an expiry date. Affliction has always been known to have a remedy in some manner, Miss Granger. The magic behind curses is weak in that it can be fought against.'
Put like that, she supposes that the point is valid.
'You will explain to me how things like that can be fixed?' she pushes, excitement starting to tingle inside her body.
His face takes on the most perplexing of expressions, one which she can't immediately assign a feeling to. On the one hand, he seems to be struggling on keeping a frown off his face, while on the other, his stare on her looks to be calculating something.
'Miss Granger,' he plainly says after a while.
'Yes, Professor?'
'You are quite bossy,' he observes with a deepening frown.
'I-' she starts only to stop.
She's been told, but -
'If you would allow me to speak,' he cuts through her thought, 'I could begin telling you about marking curses. You've found a way to impede my every attempt this far.'
'Sorry,' she hastily says, shrinking back in her chair and only then realising that she forgot to add 'Professor.'
Thankfully, he takes no note of the absent honorific, instead getting up, and lightly shaking his head as he does. Not knowing if it's right to remain seated while he's not, she stands as well.
26Chapters
Going back to her room after the lesson, she runs into Draco, who just ducks his head and walks right past her. It's odd that he doesn't insult her, especially on the familiar ground of his own House space, but she is not complaining. She wouldn't have liked for him to ruin her evening.
However, it could be that the Slytherins know better than the rest of the school what Professor Snape is capable of doing when angered. The rumour about her doing something to him died the day that he said it should, but maybe something else about it was said in their common room - hence Draco avoiding her.
It's no matter of hers for now anyway, so she carries on walking to her own House. Just when she's reaching the portrait, McLaggen comes up from behind her, saying her name to announce himself. She lightly jumps, slightly shocked at being caught off guard, but even so, she faces him, setting her face in a hard expression.
'Hey,' he tilts his head by way of greeting.
She bets that he thinks he is so cool. Up and down she looks at him, thinking of a good way to avoid him without hexing him.
'What do you want?' she asks.
'I just want to talk,' he tells her, moving closer to her and showing her what she supposes is meant to be an endearing smile.
'Well, I have to study.'
She's put of giving the portrait a password, because at least out here, she feels safe to defend herself. If she goes inside with him following her, she'll partly expect one of the many people in the common room to do something to aid her, even knowing that they won't be bothered to pay attention. She'd rather be stuck outside with him than go inside to be reminded that no one cares about her boy troubles.
'You're always studying,' he says. 'Don't you ever take a break?'
'I like studying,' she returns.
He laughs, leisurely at what she says and then steps directly in front of her. She doesn't like how close he is getting. Or how his hand is beginning to reach out, so she acts rashly by covering her immediate sphere with a repelling spell. When his hand attempts to make contact with her shoulder, he's suddenly thrown back, only lightly, from her. She's been practising many spells lately, and if she has to use them, she will.
'What did you do that for?' he cries, clutching his hurt hand.
'I did something?' she asks innocently, eyebrow raised and her eyes watching him cradle his hand.
In disbelief, he looks at his hand and while he does, she goes around him, muttering the password for entry and then scrambles into the hole before her can stop her. Inside, she finds the common room emptier than she would have thought, but at least her two friends are still in here, playing chess. She walks over to them, inviting herself to the seat next to Ronald, because it faces the entrance.
'Where've you been?' Ron wants to know.
As her eyes are still on the entrance, she watches as McLaggen enters and she groans.
'I hope that he doesn't come over here,' she comments, crossing her fingers as if that will magically keep him away.
'You've been running away from him all night, have you? He hasn't been here either, just like you.'
'I haven't been running from him,' she shakes her head. 'He's annoying, though.'
'He likes you,' Harry assures her with a teasing smile.
'He is annoying mate,' Ron tries to side with her. 'But he also has a thing for you, if you ask me.'
'I don't like him!' she tells him.
Ron turns her way then, seemingly interested in something and she returns his gaze wondering what he's looking for. Does he even notice that she changed her hair tonight?
'Tell him that, then,' Ron says at last before going back to making a move on the board.
How much clearer can she be, if her hints haven't been grasped so far? She smiles in any case, choosing to let it go than keep with a topic that is going nowhere. Harry smiles at her, maybe encouraging her to suck it up, she doesn't know, but she's suddenly aware of his scar...
Oh, she completely forgot about that. Would that classify as a marking curse as well?
26Chapters
This is how the day ends for her.
From how she'd spent twenty minutes laying in her bed this morning, not knowing what the day would bring for her and Professor Snape, and this is how the day ends?
Wow, it's just so many things.
Free, for one.
She feels free, at least, more than she has since the summer. Magically, in a day everything from before fell away as she stood in his office shouting at him. How she previously buried all of her emotions, how she refused to tackle anything if he didn't care to, and how she waited for him to give her a sign, all fled from her, melting away with the occurrence of the unplanned confrontation between them.
Wow.
For so long, she'd been equally angry with him and expectant of him. She'd planned to cut him from her life altogether, ignoring what she felt when she saw him at the Burrow, but he refused to let go, refused to give up until things exploded.
And now she's giddy.
And excited.
Also nervous.
Remembering it all now, puts a smile on her face.
In the darkness of her bedroom, she doesn't have to worry about anyone seeing her grin to herself, so she does it without reservation. It's only right that she should smile at the resolution that's come about, after so many days of uncertainty and repressed feelings.
Her mother always told her that neglecting to acknowledge one's own faults and feelings was a recipe for uncharacteristic behaviour. She's learned that now, unfortunately, having lived through it for weeks.
But it's over now.
They've now worked things out and she would like for it to stay that way. The Professor Snape from the kitchen, and the one from the Burrow, even the same one who made that joke with her when he was sending a Patronus to Trelawney, is one she would like to get to know.
That Professor Snape is quite sensitive, actually.
Sensitive Severus Snape.
The thought makes her feel silly to even consider.
It's quite endearing, really.
Remembering how riled up he got when she said that he didn't care... In hindsight, he couldn't have proved his sensitivity any other way. It makes the most lucid sense, however, considering how easy he was to yield in the end. And perfectly at that, she remembers; he fluidly moved on from their argument as though it never was... And then when she went for the lesson, it was as though nothing ever happened...
Herself, on the other hand, she's barely held herself together. Although, what's important is that now she can go back to feeling like herself.
She'll no longer be snapping at poor Ronald and she can peacefully go back to reprimanding Harry about that stupid book of his. And of course, she'll make it her mission to know more about him. She just has to know him, because knowing him will help her understand herself where he is concerned.
26Chapters
One of the privileges that she enjoys as a prefect, is the unspoken right that she has to make an appearance in the staff room. Rather than waiting to get an appointment to see a teacher inside their office, she has come to the realisation that appearing at the staff room doors is effortless to help her get to whichever teacher she wants at the right time.
Her target this morning is her Head of House and entering, she immediately spots the woman, swallowing down a cup of tea in the far corner of the room. She walks over to her teacher, grumbling her greetings to the few other teachers who are in there on the way.
'What can I do for you, Miss Granger?'
'Professor,' she begins, 'I was wondering if I could have my patrol schedule shifted.'
With drawn eyebrows, concerned, the professor wonders, 'Has something happened?'
'Nothing, Professor,' her head shakes. 'It's only that I have evening lessons with Professor Snape and they start at eight.'
If surprise itself could talk, McGonagall's face as well as eyes would have turned into letters of the alphabet by now. McGonagall's nothing, if not thoroughly shocked by the news.
'Lessons with Professor Snape, you say?'
'Yes, Professor,' she confirms
'Professor Slughorn mentioned that you were brewing for him,' her teacher says through a frown as though she was deceived with the information that she has.
'I am, Professor, but I also have lessons with Professor Snape.'
'With Professor Snape, you say?' the teacher asks again, her frown refusing to leave and rather deepens.
'Yes.'
'I can hardly believe it,' she denies.
'It's true, Professor.'
McGonagall says nothing for a moment, she instead looks to be considering the possibility of Professor Snape giving her lessons.
'All right, Miss Granger,' she accepts. 'I will talk to Professor Snape to work around your patrolling schedule. It wouldn't be fair on the others and it's important that you carry out your duties. You were given that responsibility for a reason.'
'Thank you, Professor.'
26Chapters
'Will you teach me how to send a message with my Patronus?'
He didn't do it at the end of last night's lesson and she wants that to be the first thing that happens with them tonight.
'Do you expect me to believe that you haven't tried to read about it?' he questions, moving aside to allow her entry into his office.
Well, yes, she read about it, but-
'You said that you would teach me,' she reminds him while stepping in.
He shuts the door after her and where she's supposed to go and sit down, she faces him right here at the door.
'You insist on being stuck on a Patronus? We have much more to tackle than just that.'
He does not sound bothered, which is good enough for her to insist on it.
'Please, Professor.'
Quietly, he brings out his wand and she takes that to mean that he's relented.
'And I wanted to ask about Harry's scar, Professor. Could that be a marking curse, as well?'
He eyes her with the most concentrated of expressions to ask, 'Patronus or Potter, which of the two?'
But this man.
'Both.'
Scoffing, he proceeds to conjure his Patronus, making it appear between them. She's seen it before, but this time, because she asked for it and he granted it, she studies it carefully.
'Your Patronus reminds me of Harry's a little bit,' she notes, her eyes not leaving it. 'They're not the same, but they are similar. I'd be able to recognise yours from his, but it's interesting that they are similar. What determines the shape of Patronus, sir?' she looks up at him, watching him for an answer.
'Do you want to learn how to send a message or not?' is how he chooses to respond, suddenly getting rid of his Patronus.
'I would like to learn, Professor.'
'Then I suggest that you refrain from comparing me to Potter at every opportunity.'
'I'm sorry, Professor,' she meekly recognises, though doesn't fully accept it. 'He's my friend, I can't help it thinking about him. I don't mean to bring him up all the time.'
He makes a huffing noise, but his face tells nothing of what he really means with that sound.
'Weasley is your friend,' he says. 'You have yet to speak his mere name in my presence. And do not dare, Miss Granger.'
'Ron is different,' she tells him, just short of letting out a snort at his warning.
And he really is. Her relationship with Ron is one that she's avoided to mention to anyone, because she's never had clarity on his part of it.
Somehow, it always felt that as long as he wasn't free to express how he felt about her, she wouldn't risk mentioning anything about him to anyone, lest her mouth ran away and she started spewing information that she shouldn't have. In the absence of not knowing where she stood with him, it's always been easier to refrain from talking about him and risk looking lovesick.
'Take out your wand,' he instructs after huffing again and as she does, he says, 'Contain your friends to your mind while here. These are defence lessons, not a place for information about your friends. Now think of what you'd like me to know before you cast your Patronus.'
Easily, one curious thing comes to her mind. She might just be taking chances, but she has to try. Closing her eyes, she thinks of what she wants and then opens her eyes to look at him.
'And now?'
Rather than giving her an answer, he moves to stand behind her. Thinking that he is leading them away from the door, she turns around to face him. Not even a second later, he takes her by the shoulders, turning her back to face the door. At that, partly confused, she frowns.
'Think the incantation to produce the Patronus, while projecting your message into the heart of it,' his smooth tone sounds behind her. 'It's simultaneous, and the wand movement very delicate. Dip your hand only a little bit to your right and bring it up slowly to complete a circle where it began.'
Still frowning, but for a different reason, she turns around to face him.
'That's not what you did when I saw you sending a message.'
Stepping around her, he gets behind her again, saying 'How I conduct magic is how I conduct it.'
Fine, she accepts, but why is it so important that he stands behind her? Once again, she rotates to be face to face with him.
'Then teach me what you do as well.'
'If you keep disturbing me,' he uses his hands on her shoulders to steer her into position again, 'I won't be teaching you anything at all. You are aware that we've gotten nowhere yet? Do what I've told you, Miss Granger, or my mind has already changed.'
Because she sees no other way to getting what she wants, she gives in, doing what he said and there appears her Patronus. It's smaller than it would be if she was just conjuring the Patronus, but nothing else about it has changed. Behind her, she feels him getting closer to her. She wonders if he'll say something about her hand movement, but he remains silent.
Silence, his to be specific, when he's stationed behind her, cannot be good. He's going to make her nervous if he doesn't say something soon.
'And now, Professor?' she says, resisting the urge to face him.
'Now you send it to me.'
Relieved, she begins to turn around, but he says, 'As you are, Miss Granger.'
'How?'
'Give it the instruction without speaking it.'
She does what he advises and watches as it trots off around her, to behind her. In her own voice, she hears her Patronus ask what he was doing the day that she healed his own cut.
'You've learned,' he says at last. 'Now can we proceed to where we left of?'
Unable to believe him, she turns around to say, 'You didn't answer me.'
'I never said that I would respond to your message. You asked to know how to send a message, and that is what you got.'
'But-'
'Miss Granger,' he simply says, and she lets it go.
26Chapters
Their argument is quite simple, and she would otherwise find it a valid one, if she didn't have a lesson to attend. Of course, she'd love to go with them to Hagrid's, but they should have made arrangements to go earlier in the day, not now, counting on the fact that she doesn't have patrolling duty.
'I have lessons with Professor Snape,' she tells them.
Seeing them look at each other, she immediately knows why they do, except, she won't start explaining anything that they don't particularly ask for.
'You've gone back to him, after everything?' Harry asks, disbelieving.
'It was his idea,' she responds, hoping that will soothe it for him.
She understands him, really, she does. Those three weeks without speaking to Professor Snape had turned her into an irritable person, more so when his name was mentioned, but that is all over now. She's put it behind her and he should follow suit.
'And that isn't strange to you?' Harry pushes, looking at Ron for support. 'Why could he want you to have lessons with him?'
Because she understands his concern and apprehension, or at least, where it's coming from, she doesn't roll her eyes as she'd like to. Rather, she holds herself, assuring only herself that if it were strange to her like Harry's suggesting, she wouldn't be going to the lessons.
'Why does Dumbledore want you to have lessons with him?' she counters.
Shrugging, he tells her, 'Dumbledore's Dumbledore and well, Snape's Snape.'
Really? Is that the best that Harry can do?
'He has any right as the next person to give private lessons,' she returns, her patience beginning to suffer strain. 'To me or to anyone else.'
'Are you forgetting who he is, Hermione? What he's done?' Harry cries. 'He must be after something from you.'
'I'm not stupid, Harry!'
And she means it. She has a mind of her own, and her mind actually works for her. Also, between the three of them, she knows Professor Snape better, and honestly, it doesn't matter to her what he did in the past anymore. All of that oddly seems ancient now; she only cares that they are on good terms with each other.
'I know you're not stupid,' he agrees, 'but I don't trust him. I'm sure that he's a Voldemort supporter.'
'Leave it, Harry,' she urges, not wanting to argue with him about it. 'I only need you to trust me, please.'
Harry may not like Professor Snape, but she's not doing anything wrong being having lessons with him – if only he understood that. He begrudgingly keeps quiet, to her relief, although his face has the look of him itching to respond with another line of argument.
'I have done this before, remember?' she tries to warm him to the idea. 'Nothing is going to happen.'
'I trust you, Hermione,' he accepts, 'but it's him that I don't trust.'
'He won't do anything to me.'
Even if he does, she'll be sure to keep it to herself from now on.
'So, you'll be meeting with him each Sunday night?' it's Ron who wants to know.
To answer him, she shakes her head, telling them that it will be every night, including the weekends. They do wonder what he will teach her, except, she tells them that she can't say. Professor Snape never told her not to tell anyone what they get up to, but she's taken what he told her in fourth year to heart; she's not to take anything that she learns and share it with her friends. In the right circumstances, she will use her knowledge, obviously, she just won't go around talking about it. Harry should understand that, what with his own lessons with Dumbledore.
'Wow!' Ron exclaims. 'I can't believe that you'll be seeing Snape every night! You have guts, I tell you, Hermione.'
It has nothing to do with guts, although to move them away from talking about it anymore, she directs a topic to Ron.
'What about you, Ron?'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, Harry has lessons with Dumbledore and I have mine with Professor Snape. What will you do?'
'Are you mental, Hermione?' Ron jumps. 'I don't care about extra lessons. I don't envy any of you at all. It's enough that I have patrols in the evening. Plus I have Quidditch now, don't I?'
She nods, accepting his words, even though deep down, she knows that he is hiding. She's a little sad for him, thinking that maybe when they can, she and Harry should spend as much time with him as possible. She wouldn't like for him to feel left out, which he is bound to, if their nights turn out to be divided. She'll have to do better at fitting everyone into her schedule.