Chapter 10
Seeing the door closed when she arrives does nothing to deter her from closing her hand around his handle, trying to nudge the door open. It does restrain her, though, to find that his door doesn't move according to her lead, briefly stilling her movements. It's strange, she'll admit that, but it honestly means nothing more than a mistake. She didn't press hard enough, and - She should reason properly rather – if she did try to open with enough force, then maybe she got the time wrong, arriving earlier than she ought to have, and this is the consequence.
But he always leaves the door open for you, her mind whispers, that way trying to dampen her enthusiastic attempt to excuse his closed door.
Irritated with her mind for fighting her heart, she chooses to ignore it, instead tightening her hold on the handle and pushing extremely hard on it, looking to prove that she did make a mistake of her first try. Still, even with all of her might pressed onto the handle, the same result returns to her, stilling her movements again. This second time, realising that she can't get inside his office by her own physical effort, her heart quickly pushes her to not give up and rather pull out her wand to use her magic for entry.
She positions her wand perfectly, aligning it as she should towards the door, and quite confident in her own ability, boldly speaks the commanding spell only once. Only once as well, watching her magic fail in what seems like an extended stretch of time, it heavily falls on her that she's locked out. She's never really needed something repeated more than once to catch it, which is why slowly, taking it in that she doesn't have the same access to his office anymore, her heart pushes out of place and away from the protective hope that had been keeping it unmoved in place.
Why is she locked out?
She doesn't understand, and because she doesn't, her eyes stubbornly remain on the handle, wishing that an answer would appear to bring her heart back into place.
What did she do wrong, that he's closed his door to her without telling her anything? He's always said something to her, so why not tonight?
Is it because she left last night? Was she not supposed to, when Dumbledore himself told her to leave? Did he maybe expect her to wait until they were finished? Should she have, but she didn't and that's why he's closed his door to her? Should she have looked at him for confirmation rather than listen to Dumbledore before leaving?
She doesn't understand.
She doesn't like it either, but more than that, she really doesn't understand anything about this, and she'd like to.
It's that it's unlike him to do this to her and he always tells her the bad things that are on his mind, so how else is she supposed to take this? All right, they didn't have Defence today and he couldn't have told her, but still, he's Professor Snape, he would've found a way to tell her, or at least, she'd like to believe that. Although, with the evidence in front of her being quite clear, she's beginning to doubt all that she'd like to believe about him.
No, she lightly shakes her head in denial, she can't do that.
She can't begin to doubt him, because he promised. He held her, looking into her eyes and he promised her that he wouldn't shut her out again, so she can't doubt him; there must be a good explanation for this – she must be sure of it. Even if everything so far seems to have a countering answer, she has to be sure that he wouldn't do this to her, not keep her out of a place that's always been open to her even when it shouldn't have been. Her mind's brilliant, able to deduce things solely from the pattern and manner in which they appear, but she's already learned that when it comes to dealing with him, it isn't always as easy as being logical. In his own way, he's shown and allowed her much more than anyone would believe reasonable for him.
Ugh! She always wants to use her brain!
But her brain isn't always right - not about him.
She ought to remember that he's more than what makes sense. Over the months, she's learned that, and she'd do well in holding fast to that, more than trusting her own mind's ability to find a fitting reason to his locked door. Her mind can't run away from her, she won't let it, no matter how everything looks to her right now.
She must be more reasonable than this; so far, she's only looked at it from one side, but even she's not able to think of everything all of the time. She should be better than this and listen to the struggling hope in her heart, telling her that he will come. It could really be that he only left for a meeting to do with the Order, and if that's the case, he'd dislike it when he returned to find that she wasn't waiting for him.
All right, she accepts, she'll wait for him.
If he won't like not finding her here, she'll wait for him for as long as she has to.
She will, she silently determines as her hold on the handle loosens, falling away from it right afterwards. Just barely, she manages to keep her body from sagging in defeat as she takes a step away from the door. There's something about letting go of the handle that feels like surrendering, and she doesn't understand why, because she did all that she could to open it.
But you didn't knock, her mind whispers in response, you didn't do all that you could!
To fight that stupid thought, on top of assuring herself that she never needs to knock on his door, she brings her other foot to join her left one and then quickly turns around before lowering herself to the floor, her back coming to lightly press on the door. She won't listen to her mind - she's determined not to, even as she draws up her knees and leans her head back to rest on the door.
He'll come.
26Chapters
She's sorry.
She's really sorry.
It's not like her to give up like this, not to surrender so easily like this, and she swears she doesn't even want to, but she can't wait for him anymore. She wants to keep waiting, but she just can't. Not anymore.
She's tired herself with perking her ears to every sound that made its way to her. She's hurt her bum sitting on the hard floor, refusing to use a cushioning charm, because she convinced herself that 'he wouldn't be long now,' after the first hour passed, and that 'he'd be right here' as the second hour turned into the third one. She listened to the whispers of the students sparsely passing by, gladly ignoring them – they didn't know any better. She made sure to have enough hope, shutting off her mind and she waited, oh, she waited, but it now feels like she used up more hope than she had to spare, tiring herself to this point as she did.
The tiredness is in her arms, reaching around to release her hair from its bun. It's in her legs, steadily getting used to supporting her onto feet as she rises. It's in her eyes, struggling to be as sharp as they usually are.
And she's just so tired.
She hasn't lost hope, even if she's giving up the waiting, she's only tired.
Tomorrow after Defence, she'll excuse herself for leaving and hopefully he'll hear her. If he doesn't want to listen to her in the beginning, she'll go after him and then eventually, he'll come to her, because that's what he does. Or what she does, when it's him – she doesn't know, she just needs to close her eyes and rest. In the morning, she promises that she'll think about their patterns, just not tonight, and so taking one last look at the door, still holding hope that it'll open, she begins to walk away. Her steps are short and slow, partly because she's tired and the other part expecting to run into him along the way.
26Chapters
He's already waiting at the front of class as they walk into it, and her eyes settling on him for longer than they ought to, provoke such a primitive response inside of her chest that she suddenly keeps Ron back when she takes a quick but sturdy hold of his arm. From the side of her eye, she notices Ron look at her questioningly, but to rather focus on Professor Snape's eyes now on her, she ignores the small press to respond to him.
The same as always, she notes; he's looking at her as he always does. He doesn't look any different than other times.
'Hermione,' Ron whispers to her, his urgency pulling her eyes back to him, but he only shows her a small frown before beginning to pull her along with him to their seats.
Momentarily lost, she goes along with his pull, her feet just barely lifting as she wonders if he was scolding her for looking at their teacher like she was, or if he was asking her to let go of him. If he was asking her to let go of him, she'll do it now and make the rest of her way to her place on her own. It's not as though she needs Ron's help to move, she only reacted to finding him in the class and Ron just happened to be the closest person to her.
She's tempted to look behind her and confirm again that there'd been no animosity in his stare, that he'd looked at her normally, but she overcomes that by watching Ron walk around the bench and then slip into his seat. Knowing that Harry's close behind her, waiting for her to take her own middle seat before he can take his, she moves to her place. Harry follows after her and slowly, so as to waste time, she busies herself with moving about and bringing out the necessary books onto the desk until everyone has entered and they've all taken their seats.
'Get up!' he suddenly bursts out, startling nearly everyone to scramble about hurriedly when he follows it with, 'Into groups of three now!'
The command is typical of him, not quite soft and not exactly loud, but still, it encourages commotion from everyone as they rise from the places and divide into groups of three. Their group being one of the closest to him, he steadily walks to them, her eyes staying on him as though inviting him to edge closer than he was a step ago. For a moment, it looks like he'll walk right past them, in fact, being deceived into believing that he's going to walk past her, she turns to see where he'll end up, only to feel a gentle hand on her back, firmly driving her to start moving. She looks over her shoulder, curious to see what he's doing, but his short, 'Mh-mh' of disapproval makes her give up that line of action, and back to moving where he's leading her.
His hand only leaves her back when they reach the first group of Slytherins, and seeing it reaching out from behind her for Malfoy's arm, she begins to position herself to look at him. In turning his way, Draco roughly brushes past her, stalling her for a fraction of a moment that by the time that she's fully able to see the professor, his back is already to her as he pulls Draco with him, to place him with a group of Hufflepuffs. Pulling her eyebrows together in concentrated wonder, she looks on as he hastily guides the student who's replaced by Draco by the shoulder to Harry and Ron, and then tapping Ron twice in quick succession on the shoulder, points his finger towards another group.
'Over there,' he gruffly says to Ron.
Soon after, standing in front of the class again, he instructs the rest of the class, his wand acting from side to side with each moving student, clearing the desks and chairs out of the way to all the way against the classroom walls. Not necessarily impressed by his show of magic, she wants to smile nonetheless, liking that he's simply himself no matter what. He's giving instruction as himself, doing magic as himself and as himself, he's not begging for anyone's proper attention – he simply has it. Had they been in History of Magic or Charms, even Transfiguration, at least two students would have asked what they're doing today based on the little information that they've been given. In here, though, no one will dare to question him before he's ready to speak.
'There will no longer be essays in this class,' he announces, his eyes scanning all around the class, from one student to another until at last, he settles on her.
The news hits her hard, more so that he seems to be specifically speaking to her, her mind immediately going to how little she'll learn now without the aid of research for essays.
'The dark arts are a crippling and consuming branch of magic in the wrong hands,' he carries on saying after the small pause, 'and should you find yourselves unable to defend yourselves against such hands, you will die!'
A horrified gasp sounds in the class, turning heads all around her, but she keeps her eyes on him, determined not to lose sight of him even if he's only giving her passing looks along with her classmates. He spares her a look again, only briefly, really, before going on to speak again.
'No longer will I tolerate failure, neither passable results from any exercise in this class.'
'Sir, does that mean that you'll be teaching us to duel properly?' someone from her right excitedly asks him.
She's not interested in knowing who's asking, any more than in the tenacity of being excited enough to not wait for him to finish. She only needs to keep looking at him to know what he's doing and that way maybe what he might be thinking. There's something about him, but she doesn't know what. Even now, as he lazily takes his time to look for the one who spoke, she can't help it think that as slightly haphazard as his actions and words seem, there's something hidden in plain sight that's quite him – the him that appears when it's only the two of them together in a lesson. It's as if he's telling her to pay the required attention to this very important thing that he's saying. But why is he being like this? He's told her much deeper things than this, and he's never accepted passable results in his classes, so why?
'Suggesting that more than a select few have that ability,' he finally dismisses in a bored manner.
Following his dismissal, they all remain quiet, most likely because they're well aware that his standards for 'acceptable' are not at all like theirs, whose aims are only to make it through the class by the bare minimum.
'Hear me carefully,' he firmly says, pausing as if waiting for all of them to hold their breaths and be completely still, so that no sound in the room competes with his voice. 'What I teach you will be taken seriously, beginning now!'
And then, surprising everyone by sharply turning, he walks over to the chalkboard to start writing on it by hand. While the others watch on in silence, she lightly taps on the wand in her pocket, deciding to simply follow along. Calmly, she reads the beginning of each word, recognising the completed spelling and then bringing to remembrance what that specific spell is for in sync with his writing. They're quite nasty jinxes, the three of them so far, not at all dark magic, but quite handy to protect oneself.
While he writes, the others whisper to each other, who knows, maybe even looking at each other for understand, but she only fights a relieved laugh as her heart flutters with excitement. No, she knows this won't be like their own lessons, just him and her, except, knowing that she's mastered all of those prior to him presenting them here, makes her feel quite special. Yes, he's covered the syllabus right down to the letter when it comes to normal Defence lessons, sometimes deviating and telling them to do more research on something not in the curriculum, but it's nice to know that she learned all of this before everyone else and not by her own effort.
'Psst, Hermione,' a whispering voice calls for her attention, to which she looks around.
She finds Ron waiting for her and then makes a questioning gesture, shrugging his shoulders. She shrugs back at him, because how should she know what he's doing? Just because she has other lessons with him, it doesn't mean that she knows everything about his intentions and plans.
'Ask him,' he mouths to her, but right then, Professor begins to speak, taking her attention away from Ron to him.
'In time, you will learn that appearances can be deceiving – you cannot believe everything that you see even with your own eyes. Equally, you will come to understand that silence is a threatening power far beyond what you can imagine. Concerning silence, take note that there is great value in retaining the precise attention of someone with your quiet way and conduct, than attracting their attention through boisterous and clumsy hysteria.'
As though to let the value of his words to settle in, he buries his hands into his pockets in silence, keeping that same silence for a little while longer. If her classmates aren't having trouble catching everything so far, she for one, although understands the words, cannot draw a connection between what's written on the board and that. Maybe if she thinks about it in terms of -
'Learn as you must,' he continues, quickly glancing at her and then looks at someone else, 'that hesitance has no place in combating the dark arts, unless you wish to suffer greatly. You will learn to be tactful, to be observant, to measure and to anticipate your opponent at all times. You will make your appearance deceitful to the next person, in the same way that the next person will make their appearance deceitful to you. Behind great smiles, you will find that weapons are formed to cut you apart, similarly as behind menacing countenances, you will find resources to aid you.'
He's quite admirable, she thinks, slightly tilting her head to the side. Truly, she's in awe of him, his speech really. She's also desirous about him, just him and his way with her, only her. In a classroom full of people, she can't absorb anything in the way that she would do in their own lessons, even if it feels so much like he's speaking to her under the guise of a new approach in Defence class.
'There is such allure behind the dark arts, but you will come to understand that great power means nothing if the mind possessing that power is blank and unable to form coherent tactics, which the majority of you are! Gone are those mundane days of leisure where you could hide your inabilities behind researched essays. If any of you wish to survive in the world, you will heed my words and you will learn proper defence!'
Little murmurs of excitement fill the room and strangely, he allows them to keep on as they are, turning to each other and saying little things. She wishes that she could participate with them, but honestly, after two nights of not having him to herself, it feels nice to hear him talk like this when he's always been straight to the point in class.
'Familiarise yourselves with what's on the board,' he says after some time, bringing everyone's attention back to him, 'because I assure you, usage of any other incantation in this class will earn you a permanent ban from my lessons.'
Right away, everyone gets to reading what's on the board, whereas already familiar with all four of the jinxes, all three of the protective and repelling spells and the remaining three paralysing spells, she looks towards him for his specific attention. For a while, she looks at him, waiting for him to notice her and once he does, he begins to move away from his place. Gradually, he goes around the classroom, his steps steady and slow, slightly stopping to watch one student here and another there, not at all changing his pattern when he reaches her. In fact, it feels to her that he passes by her much too quickly, and only his single low utter of 'Hair,' soothes her to calm herself from wanting too much attention from him.
He's thoughtful, she thinks and sends a small smile his way.
Honestly, she wouldn't have bothered to tie her hair for this particular Defence class, but his consideration has her hands automatically reaching behind her to braid her hair into one plait. From now onwards, she'll start wearing a hair fastener around her head, so as to never try plaiting her hair again.
'Your exercise is to attempt to attack every opposing group,' he speaks another instruction. 'Do as you must to preserve the standing of your group members as well as your own at the end of the exercise. You are to protect and care for them, for if one of them falls, you all fail.'
So, it'll be group against group, just wonderful - unprepared combat with unfamiliar team members. If her group mates fail, she'll fail right along with them – a failure that might cost her much. This would've been so much easier with Ron and Harry in her group, she laments her probable failure, flinging her plait behind her. With them, she could've worked without question, at least in planning while Harry led their attack, unlike with these new people. She has no way of establishing trust with these people, neither can she properly plan anything to people who'll refuse her input if they don't want it. She'll -
'Begin,' he deeply incites, arousing the first wave of chaos to flow through the room.
Fortunately, she's not the target of the first jinx that's spoken aloud, neither the other jinx that follows it, however, hearing a short cry of pain coming from the front of the class, sets it in for her that no one's likely to listen to reason and formulate a plan now that the attacks have begun. Resituating her feet, she edges herself closer to her members, and vaguely, she feels them shift away from her a little. She'd be bothered to look at them in stupefied wonder, only, she can't think about herself right now. As hard as it might be, she'll need to watch out for them as much as she looks out for herself.
This is going to be a tough exercise, she can feel it, but she must make sure not to fail it.
26Chapters
Who jinxed who, and 'Did you see how I dodged that jinx?' are mostly the statements that carry her classmates out of class in wildly enthusiastic talks. Not one person has been left untouched by the thrill created by the exercise that they just went through in class, and while she isn't far from how her peers are feeling, she's got another thing on her mind. Everything happened quite fast, her coming in and seeing him, and then being instructed to do this and then that, that she didn't get the right time to feel something other than being in the moment.
The remnants of excitement are still in her body, igniting her with a jittery sense of boldness now that she's actually managed to go through a planned experiment, but in the quiet left behind by her disappearing classmates, her head's able to focus on something else, something important to her. Before anything else today, she needs to talk to him, because as much fun as class was, there's still their lessons, lessons that she doesn't share with other people.
'Professor, you weren't in your office last night,' she tentatively begins, taking slow steps towards him.
'I do not need the reminder,' he tightly responds, his eyes flashing her way enough to still her where she is.
Whether softly angry or lightly irritated, his tone certainly doesn't sound cutting in the least, but even so, she feels slighted to the point of her boldness diminishing.
'I waited,' she tells him, partly looking to defend himself against his remark, to which he only remains quiet, looking at her.
He does that at times.
He looks at her in a way that she doesn't know how to interpret, and though she's trained enough to know that if he says nothing, it's because it's something unspeakable, not for her ears, but she mostly wishes that he would just for once say something unspeakable to her.
'Will you be here tonight?' she speaks again rather than waiting in his chosen silence.
Still, he continues to look at her, at least this time making as though he's looking for something on her face, and in the silence, she wonders if she's being stupid after all. She'll admit that it's rather a stupid question to ask, seeing as their lessons are set for the remainder of the year, but it can't be silly of her to want some confirmation from him about tonight.
'Will you?' she asks again, not ashamed to repeat it to him, because she wants to know.
'The headmaster is of the opinion that my time with you should be limited to Defence on the schedule,' he answers at last, though she notes how proper his tone is; that's not him as she knows him. 'There'll no longer be supplementary teachings outside of the school curriculum.'
'Oh,' she says nonetheless, quite unsure how else to take it.
It's information, and she hears it. It's coherent, and she understands it. But…
'Hm,' he agrees with a small nod.
And then there's no other sound after that. His eyes don't leave her face, neither does she look away from him and yet, the quietness completely does away with any lingering excitement from the lesson, slowly turning it to an oddly unwanted state of blankness. No, there's no way for her to be sure what's going inside his head, and though she's dismissively aware of his arm moving, she doesn't pay attention to it. Her head is quite blank at the moment, and honestly, she's only able to feel a block to everything else.
Even as she feels her hand being lifted, a mixture of fabric and fingers mingling into hers, it feels distant – like it's happening to her while she's outside of herself. She feels the firm grasp, maybe it's even gentle, but she just doesn't feel it. Because she doesn't, she looks down at her hand, looking to prove that her mind's not feeding her nonsense from its emptiness, and still finding him working her hand into his, she doesn't feel as she should that their hands are really touching. And that he's who reached out for her hand.
'You will continue brewing with Professor Slughorn,' he tells her, his thumb running along her hand, barely grazing her knuckles, but not really feeling it, she looks at him. 'That will not change.'
In the back of her mind, she remembers something about an agreement between them, something about shaking hands being important, but…
'Yes, Professor,' she hears herself respond anyway, because she's supposed to answer, isn't she?
Inside her head, somewhere in the middle, nowhere close to the emptiness at the front of her mind, though, a voice is wondering why she can continue to brew but can't learn defence. Him pressing hard in the hold takes her away from that voice and as foggy as she feels, she finds that she can still speak.
'What is it, Professor?'
'Speak the words,' he gently commands.
Absently nodding, she says, 'I'm not to continue Defence lessons with you, Professor.'
Minimally, he shakes his head, briefly closing his eyes as well, much like he's begging for something. She swallows at first, because what more does he want?
'Have you understood me?'
Yes, she understood him – he didn't speak gibberish.
'I won't continue to have lessons with you, Professor,' she calmly confirms to him.
In response, he looks down at their hands, causing her to look down with him and just then, he lets go of her hand. It makes no difference to her really, seeing her hand fall away from his – it's not as though she felt it really.
'Leave now,' he advises, his voice sounding so different to her.
It's not dismissive, despite its dismissive nature, but when he turns his back, it settles into her mind that he really means for her to leave. Blankly, lost in a sense, she understands, which is why she starts to leave him there. With each step, she tries to remember why she completely changed from to this now. There's such a disconnect that maybe happened in chunks, or all at once, that she cannot remember now.
It's not that she's angry, no. She's not sad either, but…
Yes, his answer wasn't what she was prepared to hear, but it's what was said. She heard him clearly and she understands what he said, but…
26Chapters
The feeling is strange; going through the day, knowing that there's nothing to look forward at the end of it, and yet feeling nothing about it at all. She's been listening to her professors teach, being part of the students moving from class to class as usual, and all the while in her mind, she's been reminding herself that once the day ends, that will be all.
It's a strange feeling, that there's just been a blankness there.
She has feelings, she knows that.
There won't be a lesson with Professor Snape tonight, she knows that too.
But…
26Chapters
It's only the third night.
It's not strange at all that she's feeling as she did all day. Lying on her back on her back, her eyes open and honestly unable to sleep, there's nothing strange about feeling like this. In fact, she could smile about it, because they once went three whole nights without lessons before they resumed, so…
It's all right that she doesn't feel anything.
At least, that's what she thinks she feels. Really, if she did feel something, she would've been at his door already, asking him why they can't have lessons anymore. But it's fine, it's only the third night.
26Chapters
Why did she even come to breakfast if she's barely willing to eat?
There's nothing appetising in the aroma meeting her as she enters through the doors, neither does she feel up to talking to anyone this morning. She doesn't know, she's in one of those bleak moods for no reason, and food isn't even on her mind. Even so, she takes more steps into the Hall, tightly holding her bag to her side and making sure to keep her eyes away from anyone, lest they see her and wave. Granted, not many people would wave at her more than give her a dismissing look, but the few who would, she'd like to avoid.
Walking along, nearing her preferred seat, she chances a look at the staff table, her eyes moving from its left side. No, she's not looking for anyone, she's only giving her eyes something to do, and that's how she meets with Dumbledore's eyes in the middle of the table, looking right at her that she couldn't deny his stare even if someone spoke from behind her. She misses a step then, nearly stopping in her tracks as her body rather suddenly suffers the brunt of an awakening heart. Once and quite deeply, her heart thuds the loudest that it ever has, but the effect is enough of a push to turn her away from him and keep on moving.
That was...
Step by step, she moves to her place and soon reaching it, she takes her seat with her thoughts now only on the headmaster. The greetings to her friends absently come from her mouth with no trouble, even though her mind is nowhere close to being with them.
Dumbledore.
Harry always says that he knows a lot of things, so could it be that he started to notice the feelings that she learned to control over Christmas break? For a while before Christmas break, he kept watching her, so maybe he noticed. If he noticed, then that's a terrifying thing; her heart understands that.
26Chapters
'Good morning, Professor,' she non-committedly greets Slughorn, placing her bag into the nearest bench before lazily looking around the room.
On the whole, she's thankful for the double free period now, she truly is, because it gives her a break from her friends especially, although, there's an apprehension within since this morning at breakfast.
'Brew this today,' Slughorn welcomes her, thus bringing her direct attention to the piece of parchment floating her way.
Although coming her way already, she moves to meet it and once it's in her hand, she gets to reading the list, nodding non-committedly. Again, she's thankful that she has brewing to occupy her time with, but this list, it contains a set formula that she'll have to follow and not pay much attention to. In the meantime, while she busies herself with adding and mixing ingredients, her mind will be free for thoughts. Thoughts about Dumbledore and –
Her heart is reacting just thinking about him.
'It was meant to be a present for Professor Snape's birthday on Tuesday, you know,' his voice breaks through her thoughts, startling her heart in a completely different way.
'His birthday?'
She's wondering to her herself, not asking him, even with her eyes on him.
'It slipped my mind,' he apologetically offers, his face telling more than his words. 'He particularly asked for it that day, and I… I promised him that I'd have you brew it for him. I must've pushed it out of my mind as soon as I met with Albus that day, and he hasn't asked after it since.'
He's – Why does this man always forget to say things that are important? Tuesday was days ago.
For a moment, properly irritated with him, she watches his face, wondering how he forgot something as important as that?
'Leave it on my table once you have finished,' he offers. 'I'll take it to him. I must apologise to him.'
Now he wants to apologise?
'Could I take it to him, Professor?' she volunteers rather than really speak her mind.
While yes, Professor Snape deserves an apology, she can't miss this opportunity to see him. She's sure that he deserves an apology, but she wants to be the one to take it to him. It was for his birthday – his birthday. Slughorn visibly hesitates, his body clearly struggling and she appreciates that, but he's not really her concern.
'I feel most terribly about forgetting,' he tries.
'Please, Professor,' she begs for him to understand her instead. 'It's really no trouble. I'll pass along your sincere apology.'
He appears to be fighting with himself again, that she takes his quiet as a chance to convince him, sincerely assuring, 'You can trust me, Professor.'
'All right, my girl,' he gives in, looking at her fully, 'you can take his potion. Only make certain that he understands my circumstances.'
'I promise you, Professor.'
26Chapters
Her plan had been to catch him inside his office right after brewing, where she could step in and close the door behind her, and instead, she's here struck with a cold chill, looking over at him speaking so normally, so intimately with Malfoy. From what she can tell, he's clearly invested in talking to Malfoy. It's there, in the urgent way that he seems to be shifting his body with the words that he speaks, and even just keeping so close to Malfoy – it makes her feel a chill that's she's never really felt before.
Before she knows what she's really doing, she's stomping all the way to where they are, her steps loud enough to alert them of her approach. Sure enough, no more than six steps into her march, they both look her way, Malfoy startled and then somehow relieved, and he, well, he looks as he would when interrupted, she believes. She doesn't care, though, if she's interrupted something between them, then good, she doesn't care, because she doesn't like seeing them like that in the first place.
'Professor Slughorn told me to give you this potion,' she announces before she's close enough to them, holding it out for him as her steps take her closer. 'He said that he forgot about it – he's sorry.'
Seemingly, he hesitates, looking back at Malfoy, drawing her eyes with him and they both look on as a thankful expression crosses Malfoy's face before he extracts himself away from Professor Snape. In the next second, he pushes past their teacher and in a little while, he's taking long steps past her. He at least spares her a look as he past her, but nothing more than that, which is what leads her back to Professor Snape, who's now advancing on her.
She decides then, that because he made her see something like that, she's going to stop so that he can come to her. He doesn't understand, she doesn't like how normally he looked when speaking to Malfoy. She's gone nearly two weeks without having time with him by herself, and... She heard what he said and she didn't push he didn't even make any effort to ask after her. She didn't mind it much, because she's been arguing with herself on how much she had to put herself in order anyway, but apparently he's been going around behaving normally with everyone else, just not with her.
She doesn't want to think it, but doesn't he even care that they don't have lessons anymore?
'Of course,' he says when he finally reaches her, although his hand remain at his side.
'He said it was for Tuesday,' she accuses in a hushed tone, refusing to retract her offered hand.
To that, he only nods, making it as if her potion means nothing to him. And while she's waiting for him to say something in response, to at least confirm that it had been his birthday, he only lets out a breath, the effect visible on his rising and falling chest.
'I didn't know that it was your birthday on Tuesday,' she tells him after some time.
She would have gotten him something for it, she would have wanted to. Although, feeling uncertain about thinking about that with him in front of her, she looks down, taking her arm with her. She knows that he wouldn't have told her, because why would he want her to know about his birthday, but is it so wrong for her to want to do something nice for him simply because she wants to? She's no one in his life, and he barely tells her anything, but she likes him, she cares about him and she'd only like to do nice things for him without him getting in trouble for it.
'Look here,' he commands in his usual tone, only a small bit gentler, coaxing in a way.
She does so fluidly, not missing a wave of air to bring her eyes to her, and he takes a step closer to her. She waits, because although there are moments when she can interrupt him, asking him for something before he says it, this doesn't look like one of those times.
'It's wise to always be accompanied when coming to see me,' he tells her.
She swears, he's the only person to tell her things that stun her. By his words and nothing else, something dies within her. She acutely feels it die, being swallowed by a deep hollowness that she doesn't appreciate. Just now, when she watched him with Malfoy, he was all right, not restricted in the least, but she can't speak to him alone?
'Why?' she wonders in a shaky whisper.
That's not at all fair.
'Because I would prefer it that the headmaster doesn't have any reason to believe that the lessons haven't ended in truth.'
Everything that he's said to her since their lesson, she's understood and understanding has always been her biggest thing, but at this point, having lived through even Harry and Ron raving about his lessons and then seeing him be quite normal with Malfoy, her understanding is starting to crumble.
Did she really even understand anything in the first place?
'But why must they end?' she wants to know.
'Only make sure to never be alone with me,' he tells her promptly, just as promptly walking past her.
It's as though to get away from her as soon as possible, and for a while, she can't move from the spot, not even to see him walk away from her.
In the simplest form that she's able to put it, she's just now realising that she never understood his order in the first place. That, what she did since he said it, had only been a weak form of acceptance born of stunned disbelief, because he said it at a time when she didn't expect to hear it from him. It came not long after Christmas break, and well, she'd just spent the first week testing her ability to hide her emotions while with and believing that she was doing well, his news came as a light joke that she couldn't take to heart.
In a more detailed form of what's going on inside her mind now, however, is the realisation that not only has she failed herself in analysing this whole situation from start to finish, she's also been stupid enough to fool herself into believing that she completely understood what she told him. For someone who prides herself in knowing the right thing most if the time, she's certainly been behaving like a Polyjuiced-version of herself, mistaking it for the real thing. So dumb, she's been - how could she!
She's not dumb, she's Hermione Granger, and she figures things out. She also pesters him for things and though most of the time, he doesn't give them to her, he sometimes does. It can't end like this, after all the time that she's been outside of herself. It would be an insult to herself to simply let it be now that she's returned to her senses. This isn't how he knows her to be even. Just like now, not telling her anything, not giving her a reason, neither taking his potion, he might be waiting for him to exhaust him with questions until she gets an answer from him.
Quickly, she spins around and without moving from her place, calls after him, 'Professor, please, can't you talk with him? He can't just put a stop to the lessons.'
He turns back immediately, marching around four steps back to her and then angrily spits, 'He did!', which hits her right in the chest.
Surprised by his reaction, she recoils, because why is he angry with her? It's not her fault that the lessons ended. Unless it is, and that's why he doesn't want to tell her about it and – Oh, no! What if she's the problem, the one to blame?
'I can't change his mind,' he says to her, much softer than before, his face even changing.
Has he even tried to? Or she really so overbearing that he couldn't tell her to just not come back? Has he already thanked Dumbledore for the favour?
'You cannot look like that,' he says in the softest of tones.
It would sound like he's pleading for her to change her expression, but with this new thought, she doesn't know what to think anymore. Maybe it he would just tell her something, then she'd know the truth and then act like she should. But he won't tell her anything that isn't educational or vague, and right now, she feels like she can't be around him anymore. She begins walking, causing him to turn to her when she walks past him. He doesn't stop her, though, not with words and not by holding her back, and so her mind returns to her being the one to blame. He couldn't even pretend to want her to stay.
A long step away from him, her throat suddenly closes up and tears that she didn't even feel develop fall from her eyes. In the following moment, she bumps into someone and quickly looking up, she finds that it's him - quiet and quite close, but it's him. If he Apparated or magically appeared in her path, she doesn't care, she only cares that she's away from him.
'Don't do that,' he tells her, not clarifying what 'that' is.
If it's walking away from him, she has to. It's not that she doesn't want to be with him, it's that she needs to be away from and accept the news by herself. Just like she needed Christmas break to put herself in order, she needs to be away from him now. New tears fall from her eyes, but she lingers just a little longer, looking at him and waiting for even just a little something, but he gives her nothing. His silence at least inspires her to use her free hand to wipe away her tears as the other clutches harder onto his potion, and then she's taking off in a run.
She needs to find a bathroom.
26Chapters
She doesn't mean to cry like this, but it's the weekend, and without classes to keep her mind occupied, she's ready to settle into everything that's happened since the news came to her.
'What is wrong with young miss?' Lefa's small voice asks her, getting her to look up and focus on him.
She could tell him that it's nothing, but it's Lefa, plus she doesn't even feel like bottling it inside. Maybe he could tell her something that will help her get well if she tells him something.
'I just realised something to do with Professor Snape,' she answers.
She's sincerely hoping that he'll sit down and talk with her or at least listen to her, because she's at her wits' end. Though everything makes sense, there's nothing to combat the feeling of loss that she has now, and she doesn't know how to cope with that. The world will move on and she will study, but she'll still feel the loss of not having what she's come to love having. It's not even like when he was ignoring her; that was different. Then everything was uncertain and she didn't know better, unlike now. Now she knows that she likes him, and then that she won't be seeing him anymore, and possibly, it's all her fault.
'Is it bad?' Lefa asks, moving closer to her. 'Is Professor Snape ill?'
She shakes her head, thinking that logically it's not a bad thing, but then knowing that it is sort of a bad thing, she nods.
'Shall Lefa get Professor Snape?'
She nods a second time, because she does want him, and then shakes her head, remembering that her interactions with him have been reduced to only the classroom; she's not allowed to be inside here alone with him. Seeming to understand her, Lefa nods before he disappears, leaving her to continue sniffling, but then suddenly he's back and telling her something,
'Miss should find any empty classroom, Professor Snape is saying.'
'Is he busy?' she wonders, not really understanding what she was told.
If he's busy, what does an empty classroom have to do with anything?
'Professor Snape is marking,' Lefa answers with a small bow, 'but Miss should not cry in here. Miss should find an empty classroom.'
He won't make it, she sombrely gathers, even though she knew that he wouldn't come. But he's sent word that she can't cry in the kitchen, and for whatever reason, whether connected to his marking or not, she's to find an empty classroom.
26Chapters
'Hermione!'
The disappointment that settles into her heart at seeing Ron standing in the doorway, Harry just a step behind him, is so powerful that she clenches her stomach just to stop another sob from leaving her. They're not who she wanted to see. She knew that he wouldn't come, but how come they found her? She didn't want them to come for her.
'Hermione, what are you doing here?' Harry asks as they both walk to her.
'What are you doing here?' she returns, hoping that her voice is steady enough despite her tears.
'Snape told us to come here,' Harry explains when he sits next to her. 'He told you to come too?'
'He doesn't even know -' she begins to say, only to cut off, because while he didn't know which classroom she picked, Lefa would've found out and then told him.
'What?' Harry asks, automatically putting his arm around her. 'Was it Ron? What did he do to you?'
'Oi!' Ron, though also taking a seat like he's afraid to, doesn't appreciate the accusations.
'It's not Ron.'
'Then what is it?'
She looks at Harry properly, considering if she should lie to him or tell him the truth. Lying to him would be unfair, since he's here and very concerned about it, but the idea of telling someone what's wrong seems wrong, that she doesn't know. She'd like to talk to someone about it, although just not them. She's done well in keeping her relationship with Professor Snape away from them, but eventually she's going to have to tell them the truth about the lessons. Eventually, they'll put it together that she's no longer attending evening classes.
'Tell us, Hermione,' Ron says to her. Why have you been crying?'
Coming from Ron, especially him noticing and speaking so gently, a sob breaks from her. Oh, Ronald. He's insensitive most of the time, but underneath, he's a wonderful person. Him caring to this extent touches her to be a little open if not completely honest about everything.
'Professor Dumbledore doesn't want Professor Snape to teach me anymore,' she sobs, biting down on her lip to keep from breaking out into a deeper and noisier cry.
'Hermione, don't take this the wrong way,' Harry whispers, his hand rubbing her back, but she doesn't take her eyes off Ron, 'but only you would cry about having one less class, and with Snape of all people.'
Both humorously and emotional touched, she bursts into a short laugh, slowly turning to Harry to fall into a hug with him. His arms easily take her into him, welcoming her without a second thought, which is very different to how he used to flinch at her touch during the first and second years.
'Why did Dumbledore stop your lessons?' he asks in the hug.
She chooses to shake her head, not willing to talk about it. She may be telling them about this small thing, but everything else remains between him and her.
'What does Snape think about it?' Harry presses, beginning to ease her out of the hug.
Now that she's looking into his eyes, attempting to think about Professor Snape is hard for her. Where does she even begin with it? Harry's not the person that she should be talking to about him – he wouldn't like to find out that she talked about him to her friend.
'That post is cursed,' she says instead. 'Harry, that post is cursed.'
She's always known that, but now that she's said it aloud, admitted it to someone else, on top of suspecting what she does, she can't keep from breaking out in a cry. Her hands move to cover her face, that at least, if she can't control her tears.
'Hermione, do you want me to get Snape for you?'
She shouldn't nod, she won't nod, she'll fall into him again rather, resting her head on his shoulder, only to have Harry free himself from pushing her to Ron. Just as easily as Harry had accepted her, Ron takes her, capturing her well in his arms. His hold... It's like he means it, like he wants to comfort her, doing a more profound job than Harry did.
'It's 'kay, Hermione,' Ron soothingly whispers, and vaguely, she hears Harry say, 'I'll be back.'
Just then, the door opens abruptly and startled, she looks up from Ron's hold. She doesn't believe her eyes at first, but locking eyes with him, seeing him in the flesh convinces her that it's really him.
'Potter, sit,' he dryly orders before he takes some steps towards the teacher's table.
'Hermione's crying,' Harry answers, his concern very evident.
'I can see her,' is his clipped response.
In his arms, he's carrying rolls of parchments, which in itself is an usual thing to see, but curious about his being here, she eases away from Ron's struggling hold. Ron tries to keep her back, fighting her to remain against him, but she pushes away from him to sit upright by herself. After placing the parchments on the table, he looks right at her, his face giving none of his thoughts away.
'That's all?' Harry shouts as though recovering from shock. 'You can see her? You don't even care!'
Even from where she sits, she sees his face break. It could be breaking with anger or irritation, but what she does know is that he doesn't like to be accused of things that aren't true. Harry angrily moving towards him can't be any help either, and so her heart lurches out, meaning to stand up and stop what could easily turn into a horrible fight, except, Ron holds her back. Looking back, she's surprised to find that she's on her feet, looking down at Ron rather than being on the same level as him.
'Leave him,' Ron says, shaking his head for emphasis.
No, he doesn't understand. She can't just let Harry be as he wants, and restricted by Ron's hold, the most that she can do is warn him not to carry on.
'Harry, don't,' she hoarsely pleads looking back at Professor Snape, who's standing there looking like he doesn't quite know what to do.
'I'll be marking,' he says at last, which only enrages Harry more.
'Marking?' Harry screams. 'You don't even care that she's crying!'
'Potter, sit down!' he barks, apparently absolutely at the very end of his thread of patience.
'Please, Harry, stop it,' she tries to reason with him, briefly casting her eyes to him. 'Just leave it!'
She appreciates his concern for her, she really does, but it's not at all like he thinks it is. She wishes that she could tell him that.
'Why does he need to mark here of all places?' Harry questions, his tone still angry.
'It's all right,' she assures him. 'Just come and sit, please.'
Thankful, he listens to her assurance, relenting and accepting to do as he's told. While Harry moves back to his place, Professor Snape removes his cloak for no apparent reason, setting it on the chair before he sits down and begins to open the first roll.
'Forget him, Harry. Can't help being a git, can he!' Ron consoles in a whisper and then tugs on her to sit again. 'Tell us what's wrong, Hermione.'
Life is unfair, that's what's wrong.
Because they can't be alone together, and he can't comfort her either – if he wanted to, that is, life's unfair. There, at that table, in the presence of her two friends, is the closest that he can get to her, as well as comfort her, but nothing else. He obviously knew that she was crying when he came, so it can't be nothing for him to sit there and mark while she cries - it has to be even a little bit uncomfortable to bear it.
'Is it about me and Lavender? I'll break up with her, you know. Eventually. She's...'
'Attached to you?' Harry supplies.
'Well, yeah,' he agrees. 'It used to be cute in the beginning, but it got so bad. She's scary now.'
'Ronald!' she flings herself away from him. 'I don't care about you and Lavender. I'm-'
'You're what?' he asks, hungry for an answer.
'Enough!' Snape hisses all of a sudden, making her snap all of her attention to him.
It's a hoarse outbreak that she's never heard in her life, like someone would sound out when a probing finger presses too hard on a puss-filled sore. No wonder he moves from his seat without a sound, starting off towards them. On his way, he brings out his wand, points it to Harry and then silently immobilises him. By the way that Harry keeps his position, she can tell that he's altered his mobility and when he lifts his wand to Ron, she doesn't even need to look, to confirm that he will do the same to her other friend. Next, he points his want to her, and even though her eyes saw what he did to her friend, she's oddly not afraid of what he might do to her, which is why she silently waits for his spell to reach her. In a moment, she feels her desk and chair start to rattle and then she's sliding to meet him at least a step away from Harry and Ron.
'Miss...' he only utters at first.
Oh. He's -
She's so touched and appreciative at the same time, that tears fall down her face as she looks at him, wanting nothing more than to throw her arms around him and just stay there, like that.
Did he have to say Miss like that?
As though knowing perfectly how penetrating that single word is to her, he places his palms on her desk, leaning forwards to her with his hair hanging from his sides in his curved position.
'You can't keep this up,' gently leaves his mouth. 'What does it solve?'
Of course, he can say that, because whenever has he cried? He probably doesn't even know what that feels like.
'You might not be here next year,' she counters her defence, needing him to know that she's not just some weakling who cries about stupid things. 'That post is cursed. We never have the same Defence teacher twice, and I can't even –'
'What do you want me to say?' he interrupts her to ask.
'Why did you take the post?' quickly answering, even leaning to him as if to say that his answer will sound better from close by.
Leaving only a breath's moment to pass, he then asks, 'Are you asking because you believe that I will tell you?'
Even now, he's refusing to be stop being himself? She supposes that he's endearing that way; true to himself. It makes her want to reach out and just touch his face with her hands, maybe smooth his face with her palms and gently push his hair face, but she only shakes her head.
'I just wish that you hadn't taken the post,' she quietly confesses, looking down at her desk's surface right after.
She has enough shame to feel for admitting something so selfish and restrictive. More so that she's simply a student who's passing through his life, nothing too far from that, which doesn't give her any right to want big things in his life. However, the truth is that she feels it despite that she wouldn't be this close to him if he hadn't taken up the post.
'The headmaster is responsible for quite a few things in my life, Miss,' he tells her.
In a rush to see the expression that's carrying that flat tone of voice, she brings her head back up again, her eyes immediately searching his for more than just that information.
What, things that he hates, that he can't ever refuse?
'He shouldn't be,' she tells him seriously, rather answering her own question than giving him a direct response.
'Shouldn't he?'
Why would he ask her that? Like that as well, so dejectedly? She doesn't know anything about that except her own feelings on the matter.
'Hmm,' he sounds, straightening and taking his arms from the desk to then fold them over himself as he watches her deeply.
If he'd like to say something, if he'd like to hear something come from her, he won't. She can't bare it to tell him that she's suspicious about why their lessons ended, because hearing him confirm it won't be nice. To avoid his eyes, a distraction from his scrutiny, rather, she begins to play with the dark blue elastic hair fastener on her wrist.
'You won't be here next year,' she tells him, absently taking off her fastener, only for it to slip out of her grip, rolling away from her and onto the floor. 'I can't believe that you won't be here next year. It's not fair.'
'Have I never told you the bit about fairness?' he questions with his attention away from her.
'I don't care!' she cries, partly craving his eyes on her and the other part irritated that he must so right at all times. 'It's not fair. It just isn't.'
Following that, she rises, feeling like if she's going to challenge him, she should at least do it on her feet and with dry eyes. Using both of her hands, she wipes her tears away and moves around the desk to him. Very quickly, she finds the reason for his eyes being elsewhere as she watches him magically bring her fastener into his hand. He puts his wand away once he does, to then place it back on her wrist in silence with his own hands.
Like that time when she watched him create mistletoe in the air, she's transfixed at his hands touching her without her initiating the contact. While the one holds her steady up above the wrist, the fingers of one hand stretch her fastener apart. Realistically, his gesture looks like a flower opening up in bloom, but to her heart, it looks more like a gentle tell of his compassionate care for her. Again, like she did with the mistletoe, she abandons looking at his work, to rather focus on his face. As she does, he looks up at her too, and oh, he's suddenly just a different person to her.
His eyes have never looked at her like that before. Not even when she caught him watching her. She wonders if she's gotten to a point where she's seeing him through her own eyes; giving him eyes that she wants him to have for her and making her as gentle as she needs him to be with her or reading him in such a way that's appealing to she looking at her Hermione-made Professor Snape?
Yes, he's a teacher, and yes, he's a person, but… He's now a person really capable of feelings, whether he says it or not. Her eyes are now looking at a person, a man who has much in his responsibility, but that still came for her, even saying nothing comforting. He's now a new and beautiful creature in her eyes, and she just wants to be close to him.
'Professor,' she breathes simply because she wants to.
Although he looks her in the eyes, he doesn't say anything to her, except rotate her hand in his for a little bit. So much, she wishes that she could look to see what he's doing with her hand, she wants to see the squeeze that he leaves there, but she would much rather look at him.
'Hmm,' he softly replies with a nod, soon after letting her hand go and moving back to conclude with, 'Enough of that now. No more.'
With one last look at her, nodding for extra emphasis and in a little while, he's gathered his parchments, making out through the door. Halfway out of the door, he points his wand to her friends and puts an end to the incantation before closing the door behind him. When he disappears, a small ruckus sounds behind her and turning around, she's met by a very horrified Ron.
'Hermione!' he scolds her. 'What was that with Snape? He was nice to you! He touched you!'
He doesn't have to move much to stand right in front of her, followed by Harry, who asks, 'Hermione, what was that?'
Before she can answer, Ron starts with, 'Hermione... Snape, does he...? Are you attached to him? You know, after he helped heal you after the Ministry? There are things like that in the world, you know. Mum's told me about them. His magic could've gotten inside you, and attached itself to you and now you're pulled to him without knowing why. It's possible, you know.'
What? Things like that are possible?
'I've been having extra lessons with him since fourth year, Ron,' she answers him, not liking the implication that she's only drawn to him because of magic. 'I care that he might not be here next year.'
'He is a little different this year,' Harry agrees thoughtfully. 'Something about him is different. He's even teaching us real defence now.'
'You'd be different too, if you had a cursed post,' she reasons, and hearing that, Harry pulls back his hair to show her his scar.
'I think I know a thing or two about being cursed,' he says with a lopsided smile. 'The Chosen One, remember?'
Oh, Harry.
She's so thankful that Harry's just himself, Unlike Ron - not on purpose, she knows - who was starting to plant disturbing thoughts into her head, Harry's just himself and so he clings to him, holding him close and loving him just as he is.
'Thank you,' she whispers.
'Harry!' Ron cries, also pulling her from him. 'She let Snape touch her hand. Doesn't that matter? Why are we pretending that he hasn't done something to her?'
'He's done nothing to me!' she roughly turns to him. 'Stop it, Ron!'
He gives a look, he's incredulous if anything, and then, 'He's done something to you! He can't just touch you like that! He's Snape!'
She doesn't say anything to him, because why would he think that touch is something dangerous coming from Professor Snape? He seems to wait for her to say something in her silence, but when she doesn't, he suddenly pushes past them and makes out through the door, clearly fuming.
'What's going on with you and Snape?' Harry carefully asks, turning her attention away from the now open door. 'Are you friends with him? Like with Lupin, I mean.'
'We aren't,' her head shakes. 'I know that you don't like him, and he doesn't like you either, and I don't know how it happened, but I care that he might not be here next year. He's taught me loads about potions and the dark arts.'
And he's given her so much of his time when he didn't have to. And he's -
'He's been teaching you the dark arts?' Harry sounds shocked.
'No,' she frowns at the thought. 'He's taught me how to understand them and how to fight against them.'
Harry doesn't look convinced, 'Hermione, it's Snape; he likes the dark arts.'
'I know who he is, Harry,' she answers quietly. 'But please just trust me. He's not teaching me anything dark.'
It's clearly against his will, but he still nods, saying, 'Okay. I trust you, but I still don't like him.'
She knows, but Professor Snape also doesn't like him. It's enough for her that she can have them as parts of her lives, even if it means keeping them apart.
26Chapters
'Hurry, Hermione,' Harry says as he gets up from the lunch table, 'we're going to be late for Defence.'
Only looking at him, she wonders when ever he's cared about being on time for Defence. Least of all immediately after the weekend? He could never be bothered to make sure that he was precisely on time before.
'Leave her mate,' Ron tells him. 'She doesn't care about these lessons when she has her own lessons with him, remember? No wonder she likes him so much! Snape's bloody brilliant with this Defence stuff!'
He's apparently so invigorated just by the thought the upcoming class, that Saturday didn't register with him. It's quite strange that he's talking to her after his anger on Saturday, but then again, with a girlfriend now, he's probably able to concentrate on his girlfriend more than her. Whatever it is, she's only content with him not treating her coldly. It's for that reason that when he smiles at her knowingly, confirming that he believes something else about the end of her lessons, she gives him the grace to be forgetful. Besides, she can't expect him to take seriously what she takes seriously.
'I'll catch up with you guys,' she says to both of them, getting up as well.
She just needs to get a hold of herself first.
There's still an uneasiness within her about not being alone with him and only seeing him with the rest of class, that most of all, she now prefers to arrive late when he's only a student away from starting the lesson. It's better for her that way until she's all right with sharing her only time with him with her classmates.
'Okay,' Ron shrugs, accepting her decision.
26Chapters
She's here to see McGonagall, because tomorrow's Saturday again and she feels that she needs to start focusing on something else. For too long, she's been pining when it'll change nothing, just like he told her, so she might as well take what she can get, for as long as she can get it.
'Professor, have you thought about my Muggle test yet? The Apparation classes are starting soon and I was wondering if I could have that weekend that I asked about?'
'I cannot go with you, Miss Granger,' she's sadly told. 'I would have preferred to take you myself, but the headmaster is busy these days and I cannot leave the school while he is not here.'
She knows that, but she's more than capable of going by herself. A Portkey will be useful, really.
'I promise that I will be very careful, Professor,' she pleads. 'Perhaps Mr. Weasley could go with me. I could write to him or Lupin. If anything happens, I could send a message by Patronus and -'
'A message by Patronus?' McGonagall interrupts her, all wonder in her tone as well as on her face. 'Not many students in Hogwarts have ever learned to do such a thing while they were here. Could you show me?'
Quickly, she pulls out her wand and casts the right spell to give her conjured Patronus a message for her. When she sends it to her teacher, she watches the woman's face to see her reaction, and she's not disappointed to see the impressed look on her teacher's face. It's good to know that at least after all the terrible emotions that she's been having, she's still able to impress someone more accomplished than her.
'I didn't expect anything less,' McGonagall praises with a small smile. 'I'm still looking into how you will get to your test, Miss Granger, don't worry about that. I will let you know when I've found someone to accommodate you into their schedule. It's not as easy as selecting a teacher, you must know.'
'I understand, Professor, but will Professor Dumbledore be around soon?
She needs to know just how much longer she'll have to wait until she has an answer. It really wouldn't be that long if McGonagall went with her; she'd only take her test and then return, but she could only go with her if Dumbledore was around.
'Oh, yes, he's here,' she confirms. 'You should find him in the staff room.'
Oh, she didn't mean now, but all right.
26Chapters
There he is, talking to Professor Binns.
She wouldn't like to disturb him, except she's already made the trip and she shouldn't waste it. Although true, she hadn't had any thoughts of talking to him at all, she might as well do it. Maybe she could get the reason from him that Professor Snape won't ever give her.
'Professor Dumbledore, could I talk to you, please?'
Facing her at the door, he cheerily says, 'Of course, Miss Granger. I wondered when you would come.'
He did? That's strange. Why would he have been waiting for her, when she wasn't the one that she spoke to? Unless Professor Snape mentioned her insistent nature…
'You did?' she wonders, taking her first steps into the room.
'Ah, yes,' he nods thoughtfully as though dawning on him. 'You were wondering why your lessons with Professor Snape had to stop, am I right, Miss Granger?'
'Yes, Professor,' she nods.
How does he know so much? Who tells him about everything that goes on in the castle?
'Would you sit?' he gestures to the nearest table, his inviting smile making it quite easy for her to listen to him.
Only after moving to a seat, does she realise that Binns has left and it appears that it's only the two of them left. Before he takes the chair across from her, though, he reaches into his robes, coming out with a long wrapped sweet, which at first glance, it looks like a Muggle fizzer, one of those singularly long and sticky sorts, but fizzy inside the mouth all the same.
'Thank you, Professor,' she says, taking it from him and putting it inside her bag, then waiting for him to start explaining himself.
'Miss Granger,' he gently begins, 'I am sure that you know about Professor Snape's delicate position?'
He's peering at her like he expects her to say yes, so she answers, 'Not much, to be honest, Professor.'
His Mark, she knows about. She knows that he's in the Order as well, but he wouldn't ever tell her about what he really does concerning his Mark and the Order. To be honest, she wouldn't like to know about it that much. If she knew the whole truth, she'd be worried about him, like she worries about Harry. It would all be too much, because he's probably very exposed to Vold – the Dark Lord, and then knowing that, she wouldn't be able to sit back and allow him to deal with it all on his own, and –
'Well, the little that you do know is sufficient,' he assures her with a nod, resettling himself into his seat. 'I must tell you that he cannot afford to take on more responsibilities than he already has. Has he ever told you how exhausting it can be, Miss Granger?'
In response, she shakes her head, suddenly feeling horrible that it never occurred to her, her heart sinking in the process. She only wanted to spend time with him and learn, but she never once realised that he was busy and tired. Maybe it was because he never left her untaught; he would be late sometimes, but he never left her untaught, and she took it for granted that he didn't find it a burden to teach her. But why has she been so inconsiderate?
She's always been one to think about everything, and yet she never once considered that she'd be burdening him. Neither that he'd have the heart to tell her, because it wasn't her place to know about his burdens. In a weak attempt to hide, she slides down her chair, feeling horrible in the headmaster's presence. In his all-knowing eyes, she probably looks like a child who is unable to understand the realities of adult life.
'Has he ever complained to you?' he presents carefully, sounding empathetic – maybe to her reaction.
'He hasn't, Professor,' she tells him, though highly ashamed to say such a thing.
Oh, gosh, she's so sorry for being inconsiderate; her parents never taught her to be that way.
'Professor Snape has much to do, Miss Granger,' he kindly says, and it feels genuinely as though he's consoling her in a way that will appeal to her. 'Although I understand the setback that your personal knowledge may suffer, I'm also obligated to be concerned about my teachers' wellbeing.'
He's not to blame, she thinks as she nods, feeling too ashamed to speak at all. Of course, he should be worried about Professor Snape's wellbeing – it's her who's the problem. She was stupid and inconsiderate. She's been reaching for him at a time when so many others were reaching for him as well, but she's only been pulling him down. The most difficult about that is that he knew, he lived through it and still cared enough not to say anything to her about it. He took it, he withstood extra burden while she selfishly only thought about being able to see him.
She's the worst, if there's a classification table.
'I trust that you will keep this to yourself,' he continues to say, 'but Professor Snape has often confessed to me those burdens that he cannot to other people.'
That he's tired, probably. Oh gosh, she's been so selfish. He's most likely confessed other things too. Who knows what seeing Vol- the Dark Lord does to him? He doesn't even like his Dark Mark, form what she could tell, so seeing the maker face to face…
'Was I making it more difficult for him?' she dares to lean forwards and ask.
She must know. And then she can apologise to him – she must know. At some point, she'll need to make amends for what she's done to him.
'A teacher's life is always difficult, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore lightly laughs away. 'As a prefect, you can surely appreciate how difficult dealing with students is.'
Because she understands, she nods, and while she doesn't complain to anyone about her duties, she understands what it's like to find difficulty in trying to find the balance in a piled-up life.
'I didn't think about that,' she confesses. 'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be hard on yourself, Miss Granger,' he tells her, getting up and reaching out to squeeze her shoulder lightly. 'You couldn't have known. However, now that you do, I trust that I can count on you to understand how important it is that Professor Snape remains as he is. You will allow him his privacy, won't you?'
Of course, she mentally answers with a nod. Dumbledore is telling her this in confidence, because Professor Snape never will, so she cannot tell him that she now understands why their lessons had to end without giving away that she knows a little bit about his private life. He wouldn't appreciate it, neither does she want to disrupt his life anymore. All that's left to do now, is make peace with herself for being inconsiderate, and then be at peace with everything to do with Professor Snape.
26Chapters
It's just then that; there are things that someone can go through and not feel a specific thing about, and then there are those that leave a mark.
She navigates through the remaining weeks of January deliberately excelling in Defence and nothing else to do with him. The times when she would linger after class, or when she would walk to his office, have become a thing of the past. In letting go of that, even though very reluctantly, she made herself be content in at least being able to see him at all, and then quite relieved that she wouldn't be adding onto his many burdens by appearing when she wasn't scheduled to. She'll be fine anyway - she's not as selfish to think about herself when he is heavily burdened with so many other things.
She make a point to excel in extra potion-brewing as well, just in case he needs a potion. It's the least that she can do for him, if nothing else.
26Chapters
'I asked Dumbledore about you and Snape,' Harry tells her after puling her aside and away from Ron.
Oh, she didn't even know that he'd be seeing Dumbledore, but then she didn't spend much time with them all weekend, preferring to be by herself and study. The beginning of February means that they only have a few months left to the exams, which means that she can't afford to do the minimum. Thoughts about books aside, though, she's a little hopeful now. Harry speaking to Dumbledore could be something significant for her - maybe even good news for her.
'Harry, you didn't have to do that,' she tries to kill her hope nonetheless, not looking to be disappointed.
'He said that it was an agreement between him and Snape.'
It feels like heart suddenly stops at hearing that. It doesn't, not really, not if it's beating this fast now, but... That's so very different from what Dumbledore said to her. She doesn't understand it. Unless he didn't want Harry to know the truth, or he wanted to protect Professor Snape's privacy, knowing that Harry doesn't like his teacher, she doesn't understand why he said that to Harry.
'That's all?' she digs, probably sounding desperate.
She needs more than that to reach a proper conclusion.
'Yeah,' he nods. 'I tried to tell him that Snape's teaching you things that might be useful, and he agreed, but he didn't want to talk about it anymore. I'm sorry, Hermione.'
Yes, she still doesn't want to accept that she understands, because it doesn't make sense to her.
'It's okay, Harry, thank you for talking to him,' she says, although her mind's already set on finding clarity from someone else.
26Chapters
Right after leaving Harry from breakfast, he's who she goes to see. Taking a detour like this will make her late to her class, but this is more important than missing the first ten minutes of class. Thankfully, she catches him only a little while after closing his door and leaving the other way. As determined to talk to him as she is, and to do it inside his office, she runs to his door and then only calls for him.
'I have to talk to you,' she tells him right away and in case he expects her go to him, she closes her handle around his handle.
To her surprise, it budges under her touch, but her surprise isn't powerful enough to keep her frozen in place. It's rather more inciting, that as soon as it clicks open with the help of her hand, she pushes it open, stepping in right after that. Oh, she's taking a chance in making her come after her, but she needs to know. They can't have their conversation outside where anyone could hear them.
'Is there something?' he wants to know as soon as he enters.
'Harry says that you agreed with the headmaster to end my lessons.'
She hopes that he doesn't take her to be accusing him, when she only needs to know the truth.
'It was not an agreement,' he tells her. 'It was an instruction.'
The words 'surely you know that' hang right there in his tone, even if they're left unsaid. Fine, she can believe him, it's only that since he hasn't been fighting against it, he must know the reason why.
'You didn't tell me why,' she cries, because he must know why.
'The headmaster believes a lie, that is why,' he responds without hesitating.
Appreciative of his forthcoming answer, she nods, also considering that perhaps in believing a lie, Dumbledore also made her believe a lie. When she thinks about it, it's a much nicer way to think of it than going down the route of thinking that Dumbledore deceived her into staying away from him. That the headmaster could lie to her for whatever reason, even going as far as to make her believe that she was a burden to the person that she likes, is something that she doesn't want to think about. If she does think about it, she'll be forced to wonder why he did it, and by doing that, she may just discover how badly she did in hiding her feelings for Professor Snape. Still, as shocking as it would be to realise, there should be no turning back now; she might as well get the whole story or nothing at all.
'It's my fault, isn't it, what Professor Dumbledore believes?'
It's difficult to ask that, especially suspecting that he'll most likely not give her an answer if that's the case. It's really strange how as much as she wants him to confirm her suspicions, she also doesn't want to hear him accept that she's to blame for all of this. He doesn't respond to her, of course, which is all the hollowing confirmation that she needs.
And now what?
Knowing that she made his life harder, how does she begin to apologise for it without breaking Dumbledore's confidence?
This man who was there for her when he didn't have to be, the one who offered her comfort with only his presence, how can she apologise to him in a way that's enough to make up for all that she's done to him? Looking at him now, there's something about him as he's standing looking back at her, that's unsettling to her core. Whether it's an accurate interpretation or not, she feels a tad like she did in her dream. There's just an air of him crying for her to hear, but she, unable to do anything but wring her hands and allow him to go through it, only stands there, incapable of doing more.
'Perhaps you should talk to him,' he finally tells her, only minimally reducing the weigth in the air.
'He told me that you were tired, and that you have many responsibilities.
She failed to see that, but she should've. If only she wasn't so ashamed to admit it to his face, however, she won't say that she's sorry. For her selfish thought, yes, she's sorry, but she's not sorry for how much time she got to spend with him.
'Don't believe everything that you're told,' he replies. 'I may not tell you anything, but I do not lie to you.'
'Dumbledore lied to me?'
Even to her own ears, the disbelief is clear, which must be why he snorts in immediate response, asking, 'And if he did? Is there anything that you can do? Do not delude yourself into believing that you could recompense the head of school for an error against you.'
She's not deluding herself into anything, she's growing angrier by the second if what he's telling her is the truth. It may be a complete shift from sounding apologetic just a moment ago, but she has good enough a reason for the shift; she only needs him to confirm it to her now.
'Did he lie to me?'
'What of it?' he asks her in turn, giving her the impression that he thinks nothing will come of it.
Ha! This man believes that she, Hermione Granger, will stand by and allow someone to make her feel what Dumbledore made her feel for nothing, and then just leave it like that?
'Did he?' she pries one last time.
She's not playing with her questions, because how dare he! She trusted him! She believed him. He even offered her sweets, consoling her, when all the while, he's been plotting behind her back?
'Fine,' she decides, accepting that she won't get an answer from him, rather asking, 'What's Professor Dumbledore's office password?'
'Doesn't Potter know?' he returns.
'I'm asking you,' she scowls at him. 'If I wanted to ask Harry, I wouldn't have asked you.'
Fine, if he won't tell her, if he's going to make her beg for it, she'll just go to Harry. She doesn't have time for this. Right now, she's fuming at Dumbledore for making her believe a lie and then making her feel stupid in the aftermath. She doesn't appreciate that he stopped their lessons either, just so he knows. He won't get away with it.
'You clearly don't want to hear it from me, if you're still standing there,' he says, his feet leading him away from her.
Hearing that, she takes a long skip his way, bringing herself right in front of him and stopping him from going further.
'Will you tell me now?' she asks, to which he smiles.
He really smiles, only, she doesn't know why. It should surprise her more than this, and yet, she can only wonder if he remembered something that made him smile. She obviously didn't do anything that would've made him smile - everything that she's done to now, she's done before and it's never made him smile.
'You're smiling,' she points out with a frown.
What did he remember?
'I am,' he simply says.
It's still so unnatural to see him smile like he means it, like he's glad - not that she doesn't like seeing him smile, but why is he smiling? She's usually the one who smiles between the two of them, so what's he supposedly glad about? She doesn't get the chance to ask him, since he walks around her, carrying on to his table and when she faces him, she finds him bent over his desk appearing to be writing something. After he's finished, he returns to her, holding out the piece of parchment for her to take. As she reaches for it, he moves his hand back, but she doesn't chase after it with her hand, neither does she look away from his hand to his face.
She only waits.
And he does nothing.
She allows for a little moment to pass and then reaches for the parchemnet again, this time taking it from him, but lingering there just to see if he'll do something. Pulling his hand away is the only thing that he does, to her slight disappointment, pushing her to bring her eyes to his.
'Thank you,' she says.
'Go,' is his response.
He's never sounded less inclined to say that to her, she notes, like he wants her to be disobedient and rather stay. She can't stay, unfortunately, she's already late for class.
26Chapters
After eight long days of thinking and planning, of recalling what she read in the Code of Conduct, of coaching herself to be rational, rather than emotional, she's finally come up with the perfect kick to repay Dumbledore with. After making her feel responsible for the lessons ending and then telling Harry something different, what did he believe would happen? Really, what did he think Harry would bring back to her after he asked about the lessons? They tell each other nearly everything, so how could he have not supposed what would happen?
He will find out, though; she'll make sure of that now that she's made it to his office.
McGonagall promised her that he'd be away all weekend, but she doesn't need more than an hour in here, if she's able to get what she wants in time. Being here, though, she'd like to take as much time as she needs to look around with leisure. She must look, because she's not the sort of girl to be called into the headmaster's office. Even in primary school, she can't remember ever being called into the headmaster's office - students like her simply don't get called into the headmaster's office.
That's likely to change; she's hoping on it changing soon and she'll be called back in here to give her account of things.
Her eyes take in his office, passing over the hanging attentive portraits, seeing the orderliness of the surroundings, and inhaling the faint smell of icing powder, she feels a heavy sort of stupid for listening to him, for being so gullible. How could she have believed him that way, without question? The very fact makes her want to leave his office, to turn away from everything that's him, although remembering that she's here for a reason, she moves on the spot instead. Her head turns from one side to the other, and briefly closing her eyes, she channels everything that should be motivation to accomplish what she wants in here.
So, this is where he runs the school from?
Just how many people has he lied to in here? How many people has he made believe lies in here? At that chair, so comfortable-looking, how many did he sit there and deceive people?
Like Professor Snape, for one. He confessed to her that Dumbledore's responsible for many things in his life, so then just how much of those times was 'Severus' deceived, probably coerced into doing things?
And Harry? Has he made Harry believe lies inside here as well? Oh, she hopes not, because with how Harry admires him, she'd hate to know that he's been deceiving her friend. The thought makes her stomach lurch uncomfortable, just seeing the image of him smiling at Harry while making him believe a lie, decorating it with words of comfort.
Oh gosh, she lightly smacks her own forward, producing a short angry laugh from her, she's been so stupid.
He lied to Harry about Professor Snape agreeing with him, when he's really planned it all along. She trusted him, and he -
Stopping her thoughts, she pulls in a long breath, more to accept that she trusted him and he turned out to hurt her for no reason, than to steady herself. She's not all right with what he made her feel, and she'll make sure that he knows it. If he didn't know that she has a very vindictive side, she'll leave it right on the his table where he'll see it, because though time has passed since they spoke in the staff room, he made a mistake in believing that she's forgotten what he said to her. What it in turn did to her.
She blamed herself, and she -
No, she won't think back to then. In place of that, she'll continue with her plan, specifically setting her eyes on the previous headmasters. Once she's sure that they're watching, she moves to his table drawers, opening the first of the only two. His office has other places where she can search, but for now she must start with the drawers. The drawer opens easily, yielding to her pull, and no wonder, because there are only a few letters from Honeydukes from what she can read. Quickly, she scans over two of them, before discovering that the third one is a separate letter with Dumbledore's signature. Seeing his signature, she's struck with another idea suddenly, silently taking note of the signature. With magic, she could easily forge both his signature and handwriting, and then it will only be a matter of stamping the letter with an official seal…
But that for later, maybe; she's here for something else now and afterwards, she'll make a quick stop in the kitchen.