He smelled of new parchment and spearmint, the only thing he was missing was the scent of freshly mowed grass to be all that attracted her. However, that was a smell that lingered in the muggle world, a now distant part of her existence. She was 17, in her 6th year at Hogwarts and contemplating what it was that made one person adult and the other an innocent. If it was emotional turmoil, loss and battle experience then she dared to claim herself as an equal.
Everything about the man was sharp; his wit, his attitude, the angles of his face, the way he turned on a dime- the way he bit at her. In the beginning, she would do anything to keep from breaking the rules. Now, after the events of her 5th year and Dumbledore's Army, it seemed to become a habit. In the events with Harry, she could tell herself it was for the greater good. Yet, when she was lying splayed over a futon in her Professor's bedroom with her skirt revealing her periwinkle undergarments and her flesh pressed over the rim of her bra, someone had to remind her, what was it she was supposed to be doing again?
She came out of a heavenly fog when Snape had released her and withdrew into himself. This was where she still felt like a child, inexperienced and uninformed. She barely knew the man before her, the one who had introduced her to a world of lust and longing. This was the same man, the enemy with the dark mark who had taken joy in wrapping his hand around her throat and throwing her to the ground and assaulting her. Hello Hermione, shouldn't you be running and screaming by now?
There was something in the way his body hunched that transferred him from the intimidating adult image, to one of a confused adolescent, someone that she could identify with. His hand remained on his forehead in thought as she placed a hand cautiously upon his shoulder. He did not shift or look up.
"I made a promise." Snape exhumed.
She swallowed, confused by this initial remark. Curiosity egged her on, "What do you mean?"
A tortured look flashed across his pale face, as if lightening had struck. "Always, I promised to always be faithful to her."
Hermione's pulse quickened despite her logic trying desperately to beat the emotion into submission. She tried to ask, but only a meek sound escaped her throat, "Lily-"
He looked at her with eyes of shock, hurt then agitation. "Why do you know these things?" He asked coldly, returning to his strict demeanor.
"She was Harry's mother wasn't she?" Hermione spouted as tears stung at her eyes and her face was growing hot.
"She should have never been a Potter." Snape spat.
"What did she ever do that was so great for you?" Hermione sniveled.
He was silent, then, "She was a defender and a dear companion of mine."
"Well then," Hermione shook, "did she ever touch you like you touched me just now Professor?" She looked at him intently, tears streaming down her flushed face.
No response.
"Look at me! I'm here, I'm real" Hermione hiccupped, "I'm alive…"
"Don't you dare." Snape snarled. "Get out. NOW."
"Gladly." She remarked before she turned to exit, not looking back.
Out in the quiet of the hallway she wiped her face with her sleeve and straightened her disheveled appearance with a spell. He truly was a villain.
…
She had returned to her dorms that evening, noting that Ron had a celebratory Quidditch win. She tried to act casual and join in the festivities. Yet, when she saw her friend and Lavender Brown blatantly snogging for the crowd, she nearly hurled. It wasn't fair that romance should be so easy for them. She took a walk out of the tower and down the castle stairs as she thought. How could fate be so cruel to shun her romance while shoving other's in her face? It wasn't fair. Furthermore, she felt furtive and guilty at the nature of her student-teacher relationship. What was she to Severus Snape, a plaything? If he was supposed to be so promised to Lily then why had he leapt at her as if she were a piece of meat? Had those two ever known a romance for each other? It was unlikely; after all, she was married and had a son. Was this disappointment related to the mark on his arm? Did he really care that damn much? Would he always? Which came back to her, what was she?
Tears trailed her face as she tried to distract herself with something productive. She had a quiz in Charms the following day. So, she produced a flock of fluttering canaries whose melody eased her mind ever so slightly. Suddenly, she heard footsteps echoing on the staircase behind her, she turned to see the boy-who-lived. People had said that he looked like his father, but had the eyes of his mother. She had to admit that they were a nice emerald color. She bet his mum was quite the beauty, and that fact only made her spirit sink even more.
"Charms spell, just practicing." Hermione mouthed as Harry sat beside her. She began divulging her feelings until she saw Ron and giggling Lavender screeching down the hall. She could not stomach to see any normal jovial couples, not tonight. Her heart wretched. After unleashing the birds in Ron's direction she felt a little better, but her guilt came back full force at attacking the wrong guy. Harry seemed to sense her sorrow and wrapped his arms around her. She poured her heart onto her friends shoulder, telling herself that this would be the last time she would cry over Severus Snape.