Chapter 6
'Miss Granger?'
Instantly recognising the voice as McGonagall's, she gives Ginny beside her a questioning look before stilling her steps to quickly turn back around the corner that they just rounded. Having stepped back into the path that she just left, in the immediate distance, is her professor walking in fast steps to catch up.
'Yes, Professor?' she responds, doing her teacher the favour of taking her own steps to meet her in the middle.
Only vaguely attentive to Ginny following closely behind her, she walks on ahead, ready to hear what McGonagall has to say. Nearing her, she notices the look of urgency on McGonagall's face, causing her to feel a small bite of apprehension. Did something happen?
'Miss Granger…' her teacher starts as they reach each other. 'Don't you have lessons with Professor Snape in the evenings?'
'I do, Professor,' she replies, only to receive a deep frown in response.
'Then what are you doing not in your lessons?'
'Professor Snape postponed the lessons until tomorrow,' she answers, although a part of her is now wondering if she's forgotten something, somewhere, the way she's being looked at.
'Did he?' McGonagall exclaims in soft surprise, her features softening. 'Oh, well, I see. Goodnight then, I suppose.'
'Goodnight, Professor,' she says, closely followed by Ginny's response and then silence as they both watch her get further away from them.
'She's disappointed,' Ginny points out in a whisper, hooking their arms together.
'What?' she looks at Ginny to ask, even though she agrees that their teacher did look something of disappointed.
'She's like you, you know, McGonagall,' Ginny tells her. 'She likes to know that we're interested in our studies more than anything else.'
'You think?'
It's a stupid question, she knows. One that doesn't even need an answer, seeing as McGonagall wouldn't be her favourite teacher otherwise, except, through spending a lot of time with Ginny all weekend, she's become used to indulging her towards the topics that Ginny wants.
'Yeah. That's why she's disappointed.'
'Well, it's not my fault that I don't have the lessons,' she says, protecting her image even if it's to the wrong person.
The first thing is that she would never willingly miss a class extra-curricular or not -McGonagall having given her a Time Turner in her third year should know that very well. And then the second thing is that McGonagall can't be disappointed in her for something that was never in her ability to change. It's not like she stopped going to the lessons. She doesn't want to be looked at someone who's neglecting her education, least of all by her favourite teacher.
'But you heard what she said,' Ginny tells her with a suggestive smile. 'Snape's obviously in the castle and she expects you to have lessons with him. You can go to him, you know.'
So distinctly, she feels the sharp sensation of a stone thrown over at her, hitting right over her heart and taking an unprepared rush of breath from her lungs. She's struck, nearly quite literally, into a state of being that's a little more frightened than it is enlightened.
'I can't just go to him, Ginny,' she denies in a soft plea.
But she'd like to.
Now that Ginny's made the connection for her and her mind has accepted it, she'd so very much like to run to his office, knock on his door and have him open it for her. If anything, she only responded to Ginny, hoping that the words spoken aloud will take that desire away from her; she shouldn't feel that way. It's a frightening thing that she'd actually like to do that without any other thought -opposing or reasoning- on the matter.
'Yeah, you can,' the other girl encourages, even nudging her in the side with her elbow. 'I know that you want to. Plus, I want to hang out with Dean some. I've spent more time with you this weekend than I have with him.'
Ginny's not helping her, she's not on her side at all; she's got her own agenda in this whole thing, it appears.
'Okay, fine,' she accepts, starting to shoo her away once she's unhooked their arms, 'go and find Dean. I'll just go up to my room and read.'
'Just go to Snape, Hermione,' Ginny says to her. 'You want to.'
Yes, she wants to, but the difference between wanting and being able to do something is very big. If she were to academically explain it to Ginny, she'd have to start with the roots and origins of the words, move on to their definitions, briefly touch on the mechanics of each verb after that, and then only explain why she can't 'just go to him.' For someone who is dying to meet with her boyfriend, Ginny is sure not to appreciate the lesson, so she decides against it.
'I really can't,' she rather declines sternly.
Ginny shrugs in response, apparently not bothered and accepting, saying, 'It's up to you.'
It is, and because it is, she nods, internally accepting the choice that she made. It's not her place to squeeze herself into his plans, she reasons to cement her choice, when he made it clear that they would resume lessons tomorrow.
'See you tomorrow,' she tells Ginny with a small smile to which Ginny doesn't lag in saying her hurried, 'Bye,' with a wave and then takes off back around the corner.
Left completely alone, she dives straight into her mind, because without Ginny's influence and McGonagall's disappointment tearing her into separate parts, she's able to fight with herself, by herself.
It would be so easy to walk to his office, but what would her excuse be?
If he wanted her to come for lessons, he wouldn't have excused himself all weekend. Just because he's a teacher, it doesn't mean that doesn't have he has his own life to live. She obviously doesn't know where he'd gone for the weekend, or if he'd gone anywhere at all, but even if he went nowhere, she can't just show up at his door.
Or can she?
No, she can't.
If she remembers, he didn't even want to try her snacks from Slughorn's party. Being able to have a comfortable conversation with him, also being able to do things around him that maybe no other student would be able to, doesn't translate into invading his private time, simply because she wants to 'go' to him -and not necessarily for lessons.
And if she goes and he turns her away?
It's humiliating to even think about. She'd look the idiot for appearing when she's not supposed to, with no real reason, only to be chased away. It's very possible that he turns her away. Ever since the Slug Club meeting on Thursday, it's like she began a series of barricades against their lessons and who knows when it could end. Their agreement isn't an academic one, neither is he obligated to continue with it if he decides not to.
She's not going anywhere with all this, she should rather go up to her room like she told Ginny and at once, so as not to tempt herself into a debate about going to see him, she takes off in a soft run. When she finally reaches the common room, her thoughts drift back to Ginny, remembering how happy she'd looked to be getting away to her boyfriend. Good for Ginny, she guesses; it's a really nice feeling to have when a boy's interested and wants to be with you. When Viktor liked her, especially since he could have chosen any other girl, she enjoyed that attention.
About ten steps into the common room, she looks up, now more attentive to her surroundings and that is how the image in front of her confronts her; the unmistakable form of Ronald Weasley kissing Lavender. Ron, she would easily pick out from a crowd and Lavender, she mostly recognises mostly from the hairstyle.
She can't believe her eyes and yet there they are, Lavender's arms around Ron's neck and Ron's hands meeting at her lower back. Just what does he think he's doing?
'Ron!' she harshly lets out without meaning to.
He's the first to react, hastily pushing apart from Lavender and facing her, his face breaking into something frightened upon seeing her.
'Hermione!' he exclaims his surprise.
It only makes it worse for her, being all the confirmation that she could've received from him. Angry doesn't even begin to describe how she feels about her friend's blatant display. And with Lavender of all people. She glares at him, feeling as frozen to the spot as she is stunned that hurt is nothing close to what she's feeling, but he can't even properly meet her eyes. Instead, he glances at Lavender, probably waiting for her to save him.
He's an idiot!
If she wanted to attack Lavender, she would have called her name, not his. Lavender, on the other hand, has the opposite reaction to being found as they were. Rather than push back from Ron, she tightens her arms around his neck, pulling him closes and then only faces her, a sickly sweet smile decorating her face.
'Oh, hi, Hermione,' Lavender begins. 'Have you heard? Ronald and I are seeing each other now. I'm his girlfriend.'
She's what?
Her eyes narrow at her roommate along with the news as her heart curses the ring of triumph that Lavender's words carried. It annoys her, really, that Ronald could be so stupid and not realise that he's being used –at least right now- as a prize. She's most probably anyway only interested in him now that he's on the Quidditch team and he's a prefect.
'Tell her, Ron-Ron,' Lavender urges him in a coddling tone.
This is ridiculous.
He's not even able to speak for himself, compared to how fiery he gets with her. He vexes her so much of the time, that seeing him this feeble is making her angrier. It's not even that she's hurt by him being with Lavender, it's that she didn't expect it from him. During all the time that they spent together, he never expressed interest in Lavender. Harry was honest with her when he fancied Cho. Ronald should've taken his example and done the same. Not letting her know, thus making her the last person to find out, makes her feel utterly dense.
'Uh...' he begins, looking at Lavender and then at her. 'Yeah, um, Lav and I are a thing now, Hermione.'
This really is ridiculous.
Looking at Ron, she wants to tell him that he's an idiot, but her mind warns her that no matter how she says it, it'll only look like she's angry that he's going out with someone else, not her. She could say anything, even congratulations to them, but with the annoyance bubbling out of her, it's all bound to come out insincere sounding. In this situation, leaving is best, and that's what her intelligent mind opts for, hurriedly making her disappear from the common room.
26Chapters
'Hermione, stop rushing, will you!'
'We have to get to Defence!'
Without looking behind her, she still knows that they are three steps behind her, dragging their feet and not putting in the required effort be fast to their next class. Typical of them not to give the walk from one class to the next any importance.
'We have enough time to get there,' Harry replies.
She ignores him, carrying on with her hurried steps, that anxious to get to class. In the next moment, she hears the shuffling of feet and then suddenly an arm is slung around her. To her side, she finds Ron grinning at her, immediately igniting the desire to shove his arm from around her. He'll slow her down.
'Let go, Ron!' she warns without touching him.
'You slow down, Hermione,' he says. 'Snape's always late to class anyway.'
'It doesn't matter,' she says. 'We only need to be on time.'
She also just wants to be on time to see Professor Snape enter the class when he does. The last time that she saw him, he was rushing away from her, not giving her the right amount of time to accept that he was going, that they wouldn't have lessons for the rest of the weekend and that she wouldn't see him during the weekend either. It was a mildly vicious way to break a pattern that she's come to know every night, and so rightfully, she believes, only seeing him will make up for that particular upset.
'What's the use of being on time, if Snape's not there? It's not like he'll give us points for being on time.'
Huffing only, she makes as though Ron's response doesn't need another from her, strictly keeping on in her long steps. Once they get to the assigned Defence classroom, she takes a quick peek inside the class, not yet ready to enter until she's sure that he's not outside. She unfortunately pulls Ron with her, that after seeing for herself that no one's inside the classroom, she and Ron lightly collide when she removes her head from the around the door.
'Oi! That hurt!' he voices his pain as he brings a hand to rub his cheek.
'Sorry,' she apologises, carefully removing his arm from her.
Having seen what she did, she can't bring herself to concentrate on either of her friends anymore. Her priority is now to stand outside the classroom in wait for him.
'You guys go inside,' she says to them just as Lavender and Parvati come to a stop behind Harry.
'Ron, would you sit with us?' Lavender suddenly asks, not sparing her from receiving a filthy look as she pushes past Harry.
Something's wrong with this girl.
Obviously, she knows that Lavender's bothered by Ron standing closer to her than he is to Harry, but how is it her problem what Ron does? Or did Lavender expect the two of them to be at each other's throats as a result of her reaction last night?
Too bad for her, if she'd been hoping for that, because amazingly, comprehending that she didn't like Ron that way anymore, made it easy to talk herself into tolerating his relationship with Lavender. When she went over it in her head before she slept, her conclusion turned out to be that she wouldn't hold her friend's relationship against him. She, of course, deeply considered if that was all that it truly would take as well if she wasn't just putting a mask over her hurt.
But truly, in her heart, she didn't feel the loss. If anything, she only felt angrily stupid for possibly being the last one to find out about him and Lavender.
She supposes that's why after resting through the night and a final meeting with herself in the bathroom, she easily went down to meet him and Harry at breakfast, saying her usual greetings to both of them without an residue of anger in her. The boys had exchanged looks at her normal attitude, however, they didn't comment on it, and all of them left it that.
'Go on, Ron,' Harry says to him, but with his eyes on her.
Trying her hardest not to smile at Harry's teasing, she moves away from Ron to rather stand next to Harry and then looking at him, she shrugs to answer his questioning look. It's then that Lavender quickly takes Ron by the arm, leaving him no option to refuse her offer, and together they push into the classroom, followed by an obliging Parvati.
Once they've all disappeared into the class, she and Harry look at each other, instantly bursting out into laughter at what just took place. Whatever Lavender is trying to do and prove, it's only displaying as funny. A few more students continue to walk past them, crossing the door into the classroom and still, they continue in soft laughter until someone speaks behind them.
'Inside.'
In an instant, no matter how unawares she was caught, she sobers up, doing away with any trace of laughter that was to come from her mouth. Just as instantly, she rights herself away from partially leaning into Harry, to be properly upright and put together for when she sees him. Feeling that she's put herself in order, she then gives Harry a quick look before carefully turning around to see him; this is after all what brought her early.
Not sharing her feelings and clearly taking Professor's Snape's command to heart, Harry, as soon as she's turned, moves out of the way, making for the door and as at that time, her eyes meet Professor Snape's. Whether visible to him or not, she feels her everything jump out of place, leaving her stripped, weak and believing that she should've prepared herself to see him.
With his eyes solely on her like that, she's going to dissolve onto the floor and then he'll be forced to scoop her up and carry her to the infirmary for treatment. Before her beating heart bursts from her chest she must escape; there has to be a safe escape somewhere close.
'Wait for me, Harry,' she suddenly squeals as she remembers that only a few seconds ago he was with them and then she's rushing into class.
26Chapters
Strongly driven by her excitement to resume their lessons, she made sure to arrive fifteen minutes early. Finding his door locked when she tried to push it open, her heart falling just a little bit, she then had no other choice but to wait, seated cross-legged on the cold stone floor with her back leaning on his door, pretending to read her book.
As though she was secretly being watched, she tried to make as if every little sound didn't catch her ear, enticing her to sneak a peek up, looking to see if it was finally him approaching. That only made the wait longer, as each time that it turned out not to be him, her heart sank with disappointment that once again sparked into hope at the next small sound.
The wait is thankfully over now, for he snuck up on her, only announcing himself when he was already standing in front of her, forcing her to look up at him upon realisation, and she is already on her feet beside him, her eyes attentive to his hand opening his office door.
Looking at his hands, she's decided, is better than looking at all of him to find any changes that could have happened during the weekend when she didn't see him. She doesn't even have that right to want him to be exactly the same as he was when they last saw each other, and yet, she wants it without understanding one bit why she wants it.
'Professor McGonagall thinks that I'm neglecting my studies,' she says to him as a way of breaking the silence that's kept them up to this point.
It's also a form of telling him that she missed their lessons, because saying that precisely would sound too demanding. He should be allowed to have a break, after all, if he wishes to.
'And what gave her that idea?' he quietly questions, his eyes following the door moving inwards.
'She found me with Ginny last night and she was disappointed that I wasn't in our lessons.'
Only then, with the door ready to receive them through it, does he look her way, his eyes thoroughly searching over her from top to bottom, to settle on her face, not really her eyes. The effect of his eyes on her is quite strong, especially when she considers the passive look on his face, that she secretly tries to draw herself up to full height and therefore pass his inspection, if that's what he's doing.
How she wishes now that she'd taken better care to groom herself before rushing over here. What if he's judging her, not all pleased with her appearance? That being a possibility makes her want to shrink into herself to hide away from his boring eyes, except, the most that she can do without giving herself away, is hang her head in waiting.
'Hmm,' he deeply sounds just a little after she drops her head, seemingly accepting something; either her words or what she didn't say -she has no way of knowing.
She's cautious enough not to try and look up at him to study if his feelings are written on his face. She's also clever enough to know to remove herself from this situation before she becomes highly self-conscious, and so tries to step past him and into his office. She only gets as far as lifting her foot from the floor, slightly leaning back in preparation for the propelling step, when he holds out his entire arm to block her entry.
Her heart apparently stops sending blood to her body, the way that she suddenly goes rigid except for her foot. That part of her abruptly returns to the floor while the rest of her suffers in silence, bearing the weight of uncertainty. He doesn't make it any easier for her either, for he neither moves his arm, nor says anything.
Brilliant, she curses through closing eyes, now she's going to have to look at him.
There's no way around it; if she wants to enter, she'll have to face him.
Bravely, as afraid as she is to see rejection on his face, she lifts her head to him. His waiting eyes intensely bore into hers upon contact, as if his entire focus in the world is to see inside her, read everything that's written inside of her and then expose what he can about her to himself.
If he sees that she missed meeting with him?
If he reads that by being happy to finally have their usual meeting after so long, her body's misbehaving and doing funny things?
If he concludes that she'd like to never again go so much time without meeting with him?
Will any of that make him see her differently, but not for the better?
She's afraid that he'll be able to see her in fullness and not be pleased by it. Whatever else may have happened between them doesn't seem relevant enough for her to take into account. This moment feels like a very separate and singularly distinct event that has no claim to preceding occurrences. He's too different tonight, even from this afternoon when they saw each other for the first time since Thursday –she can at least try to find out why lest she fear gobbles her up.
'Professor?' she innocently asks, doing her best not to avert her eyes.
He responds with a faint –extremely so- smile, saying, 'Nothing,' only to repeat running his eyes over her.
Amazingly as much as the suspicion that he's amused by her feeling constricted nags at her, his smile relaxes her, completely removing all uncertainty and fear from her, returning her to her usual self.
'May I go inside then?'
'Yes,' he says, his smile still faint and his arm still blocking her entry.
The invitation was clear, she heard it just a second ago and well, he's not moving his arm, so it couldn't be wrong to reach out her own arm as she's doing. It also can't be wrong to lower his arm for him, because where else is she supposed to pass to enter his office? It's no apparently, because three steps past him, through the door and into the office, following a short moment, the door closes behind her.
26Chapters
On Saturday of the same week, she's seated on a short bench that she made for herself, partly watching the Gryffindor team practice when she feels a chin rest on her shoulder at the same time that she hears Harry speak.
'What's that, a book on dark arts?'
'No!' she quickly closes the book, marking her current page with her forefinger as she does; she'll need that page later.
Despite the hasty way in which she responded to his observation, with a gentle smile on her face, she angles her head to meet his face on her right. He returns her smile before straightening up to walk around the bench and take a seat next to her, his eyes going straight to the thick book in her hand.
'So what is that?' he curiously wants to know. 'It doesn't look like a school textbook.'
'It's only a book,' she replies quickly with the biggest urge to stow the book under the safety of her thighs.
'You keep that more than I read my Potions textbook.'
A little annoyed with him for saying that, she sharply looks at him, because it's not at all like that. For one thing, that book isn't his textbook, it was previously owned, and for another, she keeps this book because she learns through it, preparing herself for whatever Professor Snape chooses to tell her during their lessons.
'This isn't at all like your horrid book, Harry,' she returns with a frown.
'Okay, don't kill me,' he surrenders, shooting his hands up in the air and letting out a short laugh. 'I actually came to ask if you'd go to the Halloween Feast with me before McLaggen beats me to it.'
'I would never go with him!'
That thought is very disturbing to her. She'd ask Ronald to go with her, a very unsafe risk to even consider, before she'd go with McLaggen. These days, she feels herself so detached from Ron that the knowledge of him rejecting her as his Feast partner is preferable to actually going with McLaggen.
'I know,' Harry agrees, 'but you obviously can't go with Ron now that he's with Lav.'
'I know,' she whines and slouches back against the bench.
'We'll go together then?' he asks in a hopeful tone. 'Otherwise, I'll have to ask Luna. Or Parvati.'
'Okay, well go,' she accepts, turning her head to show him a smile.
'Thanks,' he says as he gets up. 'I have to get back to practice.'
She waits for him to disappear, breathing out her relief that at least for the Feast, she won't have to worry about McLaggen. A little after watching him leave, she returns to her book. There's so much to absorb before the year is over. By the time that she's a seventh year, ready to leave Hogwarts, she'll be so much more equipped to deal with the dark arts. She'll obviously have to continue with Professor Snape as her tutor as well as teacher next -
Just like that, her heart drops from place.
It's a heavy sort of feeling that settles way deep into her stomach, making even her hands begin to shake. Her head suddenly shoots up, the book in her hands slipping out to the floor in succession and her eyes grow bigger in realisation.
'How could I have been so stupid?' she quietly chastises herself.
Straight ahead of her, she knows that their House team is practicing and much is happening on the pitch, but she only sees nothing. Unlike them who live on so unaware, she's feeling as though the world's suddenly closing her in, about to suffocate her and it's not a nice feeling to have.
Just how didn't she think to actually remember it?
26Chapters
Whenever she could from Saturday afternoon, she observed him during their lessons; curious. She watched him when he came to meals; intrigued. At spontaneous times during their lessons, she also studied his manner, his posture, his movements, his speech, his everything; dying to know.
He was quite relaxed all throughout, as far as she could tell.
There was never a time when her eyes fell on him and he was out of character. He didn't frown out of place, she never caught him staring into space, he never showed signs of someone with a life outside that of teaching and so much, that scraped at her. Being the learner that she is, knowing what she did and expecting him to have the same reaction that she had to finding it out, it ate away at her that unless she specifically induced a change in him, he gave nothing away.
She watched him move all week, knowing that he bore a horrid mark, but behaved as though he didn't, as though it didn't bother him. If she had a mark that wasn't of her choosing, she would've done anything in her power to get rid of it. She sat and listened to him teach Defence with strong passion, acutely aware that he wouldn't be back at Hogwarts the following school year, and still, he wasn't bothered.
What did it take to bother him, actually? Was he stranger to everyone? Did anyone know him? Did he have a best friend like she had Harry and Ron? Did he love a witch? Did he have siblings? Has he even ever cried in his life? Did he know that he's not going to come back for her seventh year?
It made no sense to her.
Still, even as she's fixing the last of her appearance for the Halloween Feast tonight, she can't stop herself from wondering about him; there are simply too many unanswered questions concerning him, when he's likely to be burying things that no one knows about.
26Chapters
'She's staring at me,' she tells Ron with her eyes on his girlfriend at the next food table.
Ron, apparently not that much interested in anything else going on inside the hall, only keeps loading pieces of sausages onto his plate, as if he didn't abandon his girlfriend as soon as the previous dance ended. Of course, he isn't invested in keeping his attention on Lavender like he should, unfortunately leaving his responsibility up to her.
'Who?' he asks nonchalantly.
'Lavender.'
Hearing her answer, with the subtle tact that he doesn't have, Ron jerks his body up to look for his girlfriend. When he finds Lavender at the opposite table, her eyes plainly fixed on the two them, he quickly faces away from her to beside him -to her, the one who's being looked at with scrutiny.
'Oh, yeah,' he sheepishly grins at her. 'She's my girlfriend, you know.'
As if she needs any reminder, when all they do with each other is snog. Really, she doubts that they've ever had a conversation to keep them company.
'I don't care, Ron,' she half cries. 'She seems to think that I fancy you as well.'
Lavender hasn't really spoken to her all week, not since Ron had his arm around her, and she's suspicious that it has everything to do with him. The other girl must still believe that she likes Ron when she really doesn't anymore, and Ron, he's not taking this seriously with that short laugh coming from him.
'It's not funny,' she scolds, taking hold of his plate. 'You had better talk to her.'
'And tell her what, Hermione?'
The poor boy, he sounds genuinely unsure of how to sort this out. She should feel sympathetic for how lost and clueless he really is at heart, except, with that nature of his, he's made her cry quite a few times over the years; he should learn to be better than that by now and sympathy will only protect him even more to keep from developing. Also, it was his choice to accept Lavender, so he should be the one to figure it out for himself.
'I don't know,' shrugs. 'I don't care either, just as long as I'm not involved in it.'
'Come on, Hermione,' he pleads, pulling his plate from her grasp to place it onto the table. 'Lavender's not who I want anyway.'
'That's not my problem, is it?'
Besides, he should have thought of that before he agreed to being her boyfriend, shouldn't he?
'But you could help me,' he pleads. 'You know, keep her away most of the time.'
Shocked, but not all that surprised, she shoots him a filthy look. That's what he's doing? He's using her to keep Lavender, his girlfriend, away from him? She'd let him have a good piece of her feelings on that, if she didn't make the mistake of looking over to where Lavender is, sees the girl walking around her side of the table and then puts it together that Lavender's in the mind to join them over here.
'Oh no, she's coming over here!'
Irritated panic hits her then and remembering that she's missing her evening lesson with Professor Snape, put on a beautiful deeply purple Muggle dress and styled her hair to be at this Feast, only for one person with an insecurity to try to ruin her evening, she gets in the mind to leave right away.
'McLaggen's coming too,' Ron tells her, having followed her eyes.
Looking over that way again, sure enough, on the other side of Lavender, much like he's being led to follow, is McLaggen trailing to them with Lavender. Wonderful, that's what she's sacrificed her comfort and love for learning for something.
'I don't want to talk to him,' she says, frantically looking for an escape all around the hall.
Harry, Luna, Ginny, Neville, Colin, even Malfoy -just anyone should be open and free for her to run over to. She'd much rather take Malfoy than those two coming over.
'Ron, I have to go,' she excuses. 'Tell Harry that I left.'
'You can't,' Ron protests, even holding her arm to stop her.
With ease, because his hold isn't tight enough to be gripping, she shrugs his hand off, then takes off in a dash far away from Lavender and McLaggen's reach. The common room is obviously out, because McLaggen could easily find her there, and no, she's not going to hide inside her room tonight; she got dressed up for goodness' sake. She'll instead go and find an empty classroom to practise some of her more recent charms as the alternative to spending Halloween all alone in her bedroom.
26Chapters
An empty classroom is not Professor Snape's office; she surely shouldn't be knocking on it like this. He also shouldn't be opening the door. Not at all, and not wider, inviting her in without a single word, and she, again, shouldn't be walking into it without a word of her own, heading straight for her usual seat.
Why did her feet bring her here?
It doesn't matter now, though, that the door is closing and she's adjusting herself in the seat that she's come to claim as hers in her head. And she definitely can't do anything to get up now that steps are moving towards her. Even if she wanted to leave, would her body even listen to her? It's settled in too comfortably.
But now what?
'Will I continue to be your excuse for everything that you wish to avoid?' his smooth voice sounds behind her as though reading her thoughts.
Only enough to smile and feel relieved that she has a place of privilege with him to the point where he can easily stand behind her and resort to that joke about the Burrow first and Slughorn's party, she allows a little silence to fill the air before she speaks.
'I'm sorry, Professor,' then comes from her.
It's an apology and confirmation all in one. Apology because it might not be the last time that she runs to him without an appointment and confirmation because she's prepared to if he doesn't mind it.
'I would prefer that you remain silent until you are ready to leave,' he says to her, now moving to take his place across her.
She waits for him to settle into his chair and resume his marking before asking, 'May I have some parchment and a quill, Professor?'
Without lifting his head, he produces his wand with his left hand to conjure a roll of parchment and a quill for her. Together with the two items floating over to her, he puts his wand away so that he can push the pot of red ink to the middle of his table, to then get right back to marking.
'Thank you,' she says once she has her requested items and she too bends to begin her own writing.
A few sentences into her scribbling, some Arithmancy notes on the side, she stills to think. Arithmancy is supposed to help her determine the outcome of modifying spells, but working on one equation about stabalising the keeper in any created spell, so that the root of the spell and therefore the base result is not completely changed, she's a little stuck. She straightens, hoping to clear her head a bit, but then her eyes fall on his hunched form and her mind changes just like that.
Her stomach also does a little lurch at seeing him so concentrated on his task, though that isn't important. With the way her body has learned to run away from her brain at sudden moments, she's also learning to cope with it.
Now that she's got her eyes on him, the previous week comes back to her. It did nothing to supply her with answers to the questions that she has about him, but maybe now, in the quiet of his office, a place of familiarity for him, she might be able to get a little glimpse of him without asking. They've continued to have lessons in here each night, however, tonight she's here in a pretty dress, working on modifying spells; it's just different. It's different because he didn't hesitate to let her in, neither does he seem to mind that she uses his name to get out of unwanted situations.
He's an interesting man.
Here he is, marking without a scope on which to base his scoring. And his, it's falling around his face. Does he know that people think that his hair is greasy? He looks so at ease across her, so maybe he doesn't know. That or it's just too late on a holiday night to mind how he appears in his own office. He's of course right, if that's his state of mind -not that she would care about his appearance, though. Does he even remember that she's here? His entire posture is relaxed, if she can say, there's an air of carelessness to him that she's never before seen.
She likes it.
Then all of a sudden, he looks up.
She gasps only because she didn't expect him to, but manages to contain herself and meet his eyes without shame. Yes, she was observing him with thoughts about him and who he might be, and yes, she should feel a little embarrassed about it, but she doesn't. He keeps his eyes on her only for a little moment, maybe to communicate that he's been aware of her staring all along, and then returns to his task.
It's incredible, he said nothing to her.
There's a flutter somewhere inside because of it, but just to challenge herself, she ignores it and to test him, she dares herself to keep staring at him. Any moment now, she expects him to tell her to stop looking at him, only, he doesn't. Time passes without a word from him and although she'd like to wonder why he's allowing her all of this, any of what he allows her, really, she's here and he's not complaining about it (rather allowing her to be), that's what matters.
It matters so much to her that oddly, even her body understands it to the point of completely relaxing and feeling at peace. It's a like a warm shower of fresh air settles into her, in turn settling her into simply being here. She'll get back to scribbling her notes, only with the difference of feeling that she doesn't want more than this.
26Chapters
Straight from Professor Snape's office, she finds Lavender outside their bedroom door. She acknowledges her with a look as she opens the door, not immediately registering that Lavender's been waiting for her. Hearing the other girl stepping in behind her is what alerts her to the possibility, making her spin around.
'What?' she asks, not rudely, only surprised.
It's quite late, even more, she should be hidden somewhere in the castle with her boyfriend, living out the rest of the Feast night, not waiting outside their room.
'You and Ron Weasley…' Lavender begins, eyeing her suspiciously.
'What about us?' she asks, even knowing where this is going.
With narrowed eyes, thinning lips, reddening cheeks and arms crossing, Lavender probes, 'What are you?'
Not tonight, she pleads in her head. She really doesn't care for this line of conversation, although if she dismisses her now, Lavender will find a way to be like McLaggen and try to corner her at every possible turn.
'We're friends,' she replies.
'You hang around him an awful lot,' Lavender challenges.
She wants to slap herself on the face to assure herself that she's not asleep, experiencing a nightmare. No one can be this dumb, that they don't understand the concept of friendship. It's not even hard to understand. She and Parvati are just as inseparable.
'We are friends, Lavender, what do you expect?'
Her answer acts as an insult apparently, because visibly offended, huffing twice, Lavender then storms off to her own bed, climbs onto it and roughly draws the curtains around it. In her mind, she shouldn't care that Lavender's being like a spoiled child over nothing, but having come from a place where she felt at peace, that lingering memory touches her to try and extend that to her roommate.
'Lavender, I have no interest in Ron,' she heartily tells the girl.
'Well, I don't believe you!' she cries after she's poked her head out from behind the curtains.
'I'm telling you the truth.'
Once and for all, she's like this to be cleared up. For the rest of the year, she'd like to live her life in relative peace, and added onto that thing about Professor Snape –oh, that stings to remember- if Lavender is going to be giving her dirty looks each time that she shares any sort of moment with Ron, her life will be horrible. She shouldn't be expected to temper her interactions with her friend.
'Then go out with Cormac,' she suggests.
Unbelievable.
For a little bit, she can only study the other girl's annoyed face, trying to work out if she's actually that jealous of her. Ron's been her friend for years, but if Lavender can't trust him, then what is she doing with him? If Lavender's the sort to be with someone simply because they are an option, she shouldn't assume everyone to be the same as her.
'I can't just go out with someone for the sake of it,' she fires, beginning to march to her own bed on the other side of the room.
'Yes, you can,' Lavender says, believing herself too. 'He fancies you, you know.'
'Well, I don't fancy him.'
Just him liking her is not enough for her. If that was enough, she would have been Ron's girlfriend a long time ago. Clearly, Lavender being a witch hasn't come across some articles and books on what a relationship is supposed to be like –she's miserably clueless.
'Harry Potter, then!' the other girl insists some more, earning her a look of disgust.
'Don't be ridiculous, Lavender,' she outrages. 'I'm no more interested in Harry than I am in Ronald!'
Harry, she only went with to the Feast tonight because he asked. As for Ron, the time of finding him endearing has left her, she no longer cares who he likes and who he doesn't. Not necessarily, to be fair.
'Go off and…' Lavender stammers. 'Go and snog him then! He's likely to fancy you, Parvati also thinks so anyway.'
Him Harry, Ron or Cormac? The girl is not making any sense. She will not go 'snogging' anyone, least of all those three.
'I won't snog anyone!' she fires also climbing onto her bed.
'See why I don't believe you!'
Her shriek's loud and piercing, and honestly, if this carries on, her roommate's bound to spiral out of control, to the point of tears. Without Parvati to console Lavender, she's not looking forward to her crying.
'Go to bed, Lavender,' she snippily advises with finality.
Thankfully, Lavender listens to her, huffing deeply as she disappears behind her curtains.
'You're the worst,' comes from behind the closed curtains, to which she shakes her head and closes her own curtains.
For extra security, she wards her bed from all noise and intrusion, not at all in the mood to hear derogatory comments about herself.
26Chapters
It's a useless Muggle thing to do, even more absurd of a belief to have now that she's a witch, but she crosses her fingers behind her back all the same. No one's going to explode just because she has her fingers crossed, hoping for luck.
'Professor?' she begins from the door.
She's not going to step inside. She could enter, only, she might not leave if she does. Her coming to his office is the result of her taking the chance that her current free period's allowing her, but she has no plans of staying long.
'Are you coming inside?' he asks, clearly expecting her to walk to him.
With a toothless smile, modestly refusing in a way, she shakes her head in response to say, 'I have some research to do. I only wanted to ask if you know anything about wizard royalty.'
'Royalty?' he asks, begging to walk to the door.
'Like kings and queens,' she explains with a nod. 'Emperors. Those sorts of people.'
It hits her fully as he's nearing her that he's really walking to her as if he's the one who needs her. He's making her feel like she has some type of influence over him. That can't be true, though, he's too domineering to be that easy to bend. Just him coming to a stop in front of her, there's a power that he's brought with him –how could she ever influence someone like that?
'There is no such thing,' he tells her with a questioning expression.
'Are you sure?'
'I'm certainly not lying to you,' he maintains, deeply looking down at her that she suddenly feels and heeds the need to look away.
Still looking down, she says, 'I didn't say that you were lying. I only want to make sure that they really don't exist.'
'They do not,' he softly ascertains, that way commanding her attention back to him. 'Why do you ask?'
Because she doesn't want to answer him, she shakes her head to make it seem like nothing important. Although she doesn't agree with Harry revering that textbook, she would never betray his secrets to anyone.
'You don't simply ask questions for the fun if it, Miss Granger,' he reminds her. 'At an earlier time, you would have been able to get away with lying to me. No longer, however.'
Oh, is he telling her that he's learned to know her very well? Why is that so touching to her and why does it make her feel a strange sort of pride?
'It's nothing, Professor,' she dismisses, clearing her throat as well. 'I'm doing my own research on it already. I only wanted to know if you had any information on it.'
'You'll find nothing about such a thing,' he warns.
She nods in response even though she's lamenting the confirmation that she's always known. It looks like she'll never find out who that Half-Blood Prince person is, because unless Eileen Prince is something to go by, she really doesn't want to look for her history.
26Chapters
Slughorn, for the most part is very consistent with her. His interest in her only has to do with praising her when she's correctly brewed a potion, otherwise he makes as though she doesn't exist. From what she's gathered about him, he is a man with a good heart, but also the sort to actively seek out what benefits him.
She's looking at him now while her cauldron boils, but he doesn't seem to notice. If it was Professor Snape, she'd be hearing –or at least when she used to brew- that she needed to get back to her work and stop looking at him. Slughorn, however, notices only what he chooses to and when he probably feels it's necessary to. He's vulnerable that way, she believes, so very easy to flatter and maybe manipulate, unlike Professor Snape.
If she felt like doing it, she'd bet ten House points that she could, through her academic side, charm Slughorn to favour her a lot. But what would the point be?
Though probably a great wizard, his teaching method is based on telling them to take instructions from a book, whereas Professor Snape mostly teaches from memory, depending only on books when he has no interest to talk to his students. She doesn't see herself learning from Slughorn the way that she learns from Professor Snape. Plus, she doesn't think that Professor Snape would like it too much if she started getting close to Slughorn.
Slughorn is better left for Harry. As his friend, she shouldn't touch the teachers who favourite Harry, not Dumbledore and not Slughorn. Harry should have his teachers, and she should have hers; McGonagall and Professor Snape.
26Chapters
'Sir, I have a question.'
'Do you?' he drawls.
'It's not related to what you taught me today.'
That's the difference with tonight's end of lesson. The question's been internal for more than two weeks now and she really thought that she'd never have to ask him, for fear of hearing him answer it, but she doesn't want to keep wondering about his answer.
'Go on,' he encourages with a nod, leaning back in his chair.
Watching him assume the position of comfort all of a sudden fills her with the need to change her mind and rather ask about something else that's not that. It never occurred to her that confronted with a possibility of how his life could go, would make him resort to a hard and shielded demeanor. Something about seeing him easily glide into a laid-back posture, exposes her to the opposite of that –even worse, that she'd be the reason for the change.
'It's…' she begins but doesn't continue.
Should she continue? What if her question makes him feel bad for the rest of the week? If she couldn't even remove it from her mind that he's likely to be gone by the end of the year, what's to say that he, the person affected by that, won't be hounded from tonight onwards?
'Miss Granger,' he says her name, threading his fingers together and tucking them under his chin, 'do you remember me telling you that you could ask me anything?'
'Yes,' she quietly replies. 'You said that I could ask you anything, even if it's not related to school.'
'You can,' he agrees, inclining his head invitingly.
'I was wondering if you plan on teaching again next year,' she quickly presents for fear of hesitating again; she only hopes that it didn't come out as shaky as she thinks it did.
'Defence Against The Dark Arts?'
Ignoring that she's not really asking about the subject, she nods, to which he reacts interestingly. Where she thought that he'd give her a simple one syllable answer, he averts his eyes from her face, removes his hands from under his chin to clasp them together on the table and for the first time ever that she's witnessed, his body heaves with the long breath that comes from his mouth.
'Why do you ask?' he asks her at last, bring his eyes back to her.
'The-' she hesitates at first, but then tries again. 'It's- We've never had the same Defence teacher twice before. Our teachers always leave Hogwarts at the end of the year.'
For the heavy feeling that's now settled into her chest, she blames his eyes for boring into hers as if they see the deepest of her, and then how he looks away. What is she supposed to think when he fixes her a deep stare only to look away as though ashamed of something? And what is she supposed to do with the thick silence that he's allowed to settle between them when chose not to answer her?
'It's true, isn't it, Professor?' she shakily asks to destroy the expectant silence. 'You won't be coming back to teach next year?'
Shortly following her questions, like the questions themselves scare him to, he suddenly jerks up, quickly drawing his body from his chair firmly onto his feet, fully facing the door, in the next second.
'You should leave,' he sternly bids, which she doesn't understand at first.
It seems that he's only telling her to leave because she asked the wrong question, but then the door swings open and though she doesn't take her eyes off him, she hears Dumbledore speak from the door.
'Severus?'
Doing as Professor Snape did, she springs from her seat to a standing position and with her eyes now able to see the headmaster, she's quick to notice that there's nothing quite right about him. He's presenting as the calm man from always and yet, there's a strange air about him. When she considers it, why did he open the door without knocking first? She supposes that the headmaster has many rights, but there is still such a thing as courtesy; at his age, he should know that extremely well.
'If you would please, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore says to her, 'I'd like a word with Professor Snape.'
'I will be leaving then,' she announces, not needing to be told twice. 'Goodnight, Professors.'
26Chapters
He's actually watching her.
He's done it twice since he interrupted her lesson with Professor Snape, but that had been from the staff table; once at Tuesday's dinner and once at yesterday's lunch, giving her enough grace to pretend not to notice by concentrating on her food. Exiting the staff room, however, there's no distraction from his waiting stare.
Her step falters only a little as she reaches him, though that doesn't stop her from asking, 'Is there something, Professor?'
'Nothing, Miss Granger,' he replies with a smile. 'Unless I could entice you to indulge in some Muggle jelly beans before lunch.'
His blackened hand digs into one of his robe pockets, coming out with a small unopened yellow packet of sweets to place into her hand. So much for offering -did she ever have the choice to refuse his sweets? She takes them nonetheless.
'Thank you, Professor.'
'All right, Miss Granger, I must get going,' he bids, surprising reaching out and gently squeezing her elbow as he takes off.
That was strange, she thinks as she sees him off with her eyes. Sweets and squeezes kindly given, there's still something about him.
26Chapters
'Minerva, if you have finished, I will need for Miss Granger to come with me.'
'Yes, yes,' McGonagall agrees. 'You may take her. There's nothing more that I can get from them in any event. All we can do now is wait for Albus.'
At the permission, he lunges forwards to takes her by the arm and marches out with her from McGonagall's office. All the way to his office, he neither speaks to her nor releases her, until he has shoved her inside. His wand immediately comes out as soon as the door's closed, waving once over her.
'You have need for basic diagnostic spells,' he coldly says only to run his wand over her again. 'Those sort of spells will tell you what sort of magic you are dealing with. In knowing what you are up against, you can find the solution quite easily.'
All that is heard and noted, but there's something else first.
'Professor, are you angry with me?'
'Quite,' he admits right away, 'and you will stay here until I am finished being angry with you. You are constantly there where trouble is. You can never stay away. You infuriate me greatly, do you know? If you cannot keep yourself unharmed, who is supposed to?'
Again, he waves his wand over her, performing what she supposes must be another diagnostic spell, and though hard to tell from his expression alone, he appears to be satisfied with her state of being. If only he could change his face as well.
'We didn't do anything, Professor,' she softly cries. 'We only saw what happened.'
To her, it still doesn't make sense how someone was able to lure Katie alone away from the castle to a middle point between the Forbidden Forest entrance and Hagrid's hut, to hand her the cursed necklace. He was there when the three of them were questioned a second time by McGonagall, so he should know that they had nothing to do with Katie's cursing.
He begins to lift his wand again, and she, suspecting that he's going to run another diagnostic spell over her, partly influenced by the high emotions from viewing Katie float into the air, dares to hold his wand still. If he'd stop diagnosing her, he'd understand what she's telling him. He easily pries her fingers from his wand with his own, running it over her immediately after.
'As I said,' he dismissively waves away, 'you will need to learn diagnostic spells.'
'Now?'
She asks, because she's not in the mind to do anything else right now.
Yes, she knows that the dark arts attack with surprise and would never allow her to restore herself from the shock, but this is a real thing, that happened to someone that she knows personally. It disturbed her, it made her fearful and rightfully, she'd like the time to come to proper terms with it. McGonagall asked them countless questions, asking them to relive the incident over and over, and now he's pushing for something that can wait until tonight.
She needs some time, not his urgency to teach her diagnostic spells.
'Well, I didn't bring you here for your company.'
'We meet in the evenings,' she argues. 'I need to be with Harry and Ron now.'
Unlike everyone else, they understand, they were there, they saw exactly what she saw.
'And get yourself nearly killed?' he roughly scoffs. 'I don't think so! You will stay here, and you will learn how to detect cursed objects.'
'Professor, please,' she begs, stepping close to him. 'I promise that I'll learn everything tonight. Could I spend the afternoon with my friends? I hardly get to be with them anymore. Harry has private lessons with Professor Dumbledore. Ron and Lavender are always together now and-'
'Do you deliberately go looking for trouble, Miss Granger?' he cuts her off.
Puzzled by his question, she asks, 'Sir?'
'You speak callously about your plans with your friends, as though Miss Bell is in perfect health. What do you suppose would have happened to you had you touched any particle on that necklace?'
He's looming over her, his expression refusing to be anything other than it's been since he was called in by McGonagall, and precisely that, is why she doesn't want to be around him. Though masking it well, she's still emotional from seeing Katie like that and him being angry, not at all sympathetic to her feelings, is not helping her.
'I have been paying attention in lessons, Professor,' she snaps at him. 'I'm not stupid!'
Plus, what's that shield of protection that he told her about, if it doesn't help for things like this?
'No,' he tersely spits, sharply turning away from her, 'you only tend to get yourself in trouble. You could have easily ended up as Miss Bell.'
The last part reaches her ears as a defeated string of words, and though she recognises emotion in them, she's more hung up on him accusing her of not being careful like it was her fault that she happened to see what she saw.
'But I didn't!' she refuses to be made to feel guilty; she feels enough as it is.
Facing her then, he looks her over like he's calculating something about her, and then carefully delivers, 'If you refuse to be careful, Miss Granger, then these lessons are of no use to you,' with a relenting face.
No, she wants the lessons. He can't threaten her with those.
'It wasn't my fault, Professor,' she replies to him, really wishing that he would hear her.
Only his lips draw closer together, poking her to get a proper response from him by asking, 'You're not going to say anything?'
'The longer that you stay in here,' leaves his mouth, 'the more that I am inclined to lock you inside. You are doing terribly in convincing me that you would rather be with Potter and Weasley when you refuse to leave.'
She couldn't have left without his permission, if he remembers. The disagreement is precisely because she can only leave with his explicit say so, he'd be teaching her diagnostic spells otherwise.
'I want you to accept that it wasn't my fault,' she tells him. 'I didn't go looking for anything, I only happened to be there. You can't be angry with me for that.'
First giving her a look of slight disgust, he says, 'I will be as upset as I deem fit. You cannot change my mind.'
This man.
He can't keep doing this to her. How is she supposed to leave knowing that he won't give up on being angry with her? Why must he be so difficult?
'That's not fair,' she weakly whines, because it really isn't.
'Is it not?' he challenges. 'You can anger me, but I am unfair to be angry with you? How is that sound reasoning?'
'I didn't anger you!'
'I can assure you that you have upset me very much, Miss.'
Granger. His deep rasp left out her surname at the end there, which he has never done before. That disturbed he is?
'But I keep telling you that it wasn't my fault.'
She needs him to see reason. He was there for goodness sake, he heard her recount the story, therefore it shouldn't be hard at all for him to be reasonable.
'And I keep telling you that if you really want to leave as you claim,' he crosses over to his table, 'do it now. Assuredly, if one more word comes from you, I will keep you in here.'
She wants to reply, to try and convince him one last time that she did nothing wrong, but he's made his warning quite clear. They have not resolved this and she doesn't want to leave before they do, only, she has no other choice. When she comes back for her lesson tonight, she will make sure to get his anger out of the way first.
To leave, she begins walking to the door, taking deliberately slow steps only to see if he'll change his mind. She'd like to leave, yes, but it would be nice if she did that with the knowledge that he is not angry with her; it's bound to flow into her mind from time to time during the day.
'Tread carefully, Miss Granger,' he advises from his place and thinking that he means for her to change her walk, she stills her steps.
When he doesn't say another word after that, she resumes walking to the door where she first waits to open it before saying goodbye to him.
'See you later, Professor.'
And then she's outside his office, pulling the door closed, to find Ron and Harry standing outside.
'What are you doing here?' she gasps.
She doesn't like how it feels like they snuck up on her, following her when she wasn't careful to avoid them.
'What did Snape want?' Ron is the first to ask, completely ignoring her question.
'Nothing,' she lies.
'He's pissed off, isn't he?' Harry asks this time. 'He carried you out of McGonagall's office like he was going to cane you or something. We only wanted to make sure that you were all right.'
So they didn't come to spy on her -how thoughtful.
'He only wanted to teach me diagnostic spells,' she confesses, quite touched by their concern.
'Because of the necklace?' Harry presses and when she nods her response, he continues with, 'We need to figure out who gave that necklace to her. It's Malfoy, I'm sure of it.'