A/N; Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chap.
I like this one, It's not the last one, but be warned,that is on its way :(
At last, Sev and Hermione sort of back in the same scene togeather...Hmmm#
Oh and just so you know we have skipped forward a little bit in time, but i'm sure you'll get that...
Hermione kept her head bowed as she walked up the grassy hill to the castle. Now and again she would sneak a peek underneath the hood, her long eyelashes brushing against her hair as it fell in delicate curls against her face.
She hadn't had chance to say goodbye to Hogwarts, and now as she walked slowly up to the place that had been home for so many years, Hermione couldn't help but feel saddened.
She had so many good years there, they were all lost in time now, along with the friends that she once had. Those brave souls that gave their lives so that future generations could go on. And it was those generations of students that Hermione was going to teach.
Yes she felt saddened, but the surge of excitement she used to get before embarking on an adventure with Harry and Ron was there too. Thumping in her chest, reminding her she was alive.
Hermione took a deep breath through her nose. She let the cold air fill her nostrils and blew it out again, watching it as it danced in front of her before being blown away.
She wanted to take everything in, everything she might have missed before; the smell of the grass, the sound of the trees, the taste of the frost in the air. All of it, savouring it. This moment was hers.
And as she felt the mud squelch underneath her feet she took another glance upwards, toward the castle. With the rain caught in her eyelashes and falling down cold against her cheeks, she paused, shocked, unable to catch her breath.
IIIII
Severus hated the first of September. He hated the students; he disliked his colleagues immensely, but most of all he loathed the way everyone acted. All of them skipping about now that the war had ended, not one of them wanting to remember, wanting to recognise the sacrifices made.
To the new generation of dunderhead students, the past war was just an exciting event that took place over the summer. Something they could tell their grandchildren they were alive to witness if they ever asked.
None of them knew the truth, none of them held the darkness in their eyes like he did. He had witnessed death at its rawest. He had smelt the dying flesh of his former students. Sure he had been on the winning side, but what sickly sweet victory it was.
Potter had lived, Potter would always have lived. He had an entourage of willing fans that would have gladly given their life for that idiot.
But who else. He didn't know, he didn't dare to ask. Sure he had been on the side that won the war, but what had he lost?
And there they were, those imbeciles that he would have to teach for another seven years. Imbeciles that didn't know or didn't care about the true heroes, those who were lost to the war, those who he lost in the war.
That's if he even lost anyone.
Not that he cared, of course.
IIIII
Hermione couldn't breath. He stomach had plummeted into the burning pit of her stomach.
There he was.
The most horrific and yet breathtaking sight she had ever seen.
He was death, in his dark robes. His dark eyes tearing into the students that hurried into the castle as he stood and waited for them. Impatient fury plastered all over his face.
Now that McGonagall was Headmistress, he had taken over her job of welcoming the students. He was far from welcoming.
His hair fell in curtains beside his face; wet with the rain it hid his snarling mouth from anyone that was too far away not to notice.
Hermione knew, she could feel the heat and anger radiating from him. He was like the plague, infecting anyone who passed with fear of death. The black plague, it suited him perfectly.
Would she have to walk past him too? Wasn't there another way into the castle?
He heart was beating so fast she was sure he would hear it soon. Pounding in her chest. Banging against her ribcage. It was begging to be released. But she couldn't let that happen, not again. Not to him.
There were only a few students left now; surely he would see her soon. It was only then that Hermione realised she had stopped dead in her tracks. Rain had soaked through her robes, she didn't care. Her eyes fixed on him, rain dripping down her face from her hood; she took a deep breath and resumed her pace.
IIIII
At least this year he would be teaching Defence. Not that it was vitally important anymore, but there would always be threats from those witches and wizards that strayed a little too far into the dark arts.
At least the dunderheads would have a competent tutor in the subject.
He didn't know nor care who was taking over potions. McGonagall had told him it was a bright young witch that had played a vital part in the war making potions for the sick and injured.
He had just rolled his eyes, he didn't care. Why should he?
Was that it?
Severus' eyes swept over the grounds as what seemed to be the last of the students hurried their way past him and into the, now crowded, great hall.
No.
Over by the bank was one more, slowly making their way to the castle? He had half a mid to go over and drag whoever it was up here himself. Did they expect him to wait out in the rain for them?
Was it a student though? Just before Severus did a perfect double take he realised that whoever it was, was much too tall to be a first year student. And why weren't they in uniform?
As he strained his eyes to get a better look through the down pour of rain he noticed that whoever it was, was trying to remain anonymous.
Why else would they have their hood pulled up over their head? They hadn't bothered using a drying spell either. He could tell by the state of their-no, of her robes that she was soaking.
He couldn't pass comment, he hadn't bothered either. But he liked the feel of the rain. It made him feel alive.
He noticed, just by the side of her hidden face was a stray piece of hair. Brown. He dully noted, whoever it was had brown hair. He didn't know why he was so interested; perhaps he just liked to know everything. Was this the new potions professor?
She was young, he could tell as much, he hands were fresh and clean, obviously not someone who had spent years handling burning cauldrons filled with boiling potions.
What struck his curiosity so much however was how slowly she walked, as if counting every step? She seemed sad.
Without even thinking about it too much Severus recognised the signs. She had been apart of the war, she had lost, and she had lived. But then again McGonagall had told him as much, so what else was it about this woman that made him unable to tear his eyes away?
He watched quietly as she came closer and as if time seemed to pass more slowly now, he watched as she lifted her hood.
Her eyes.
He recognised those eyes. Those same eyes that had haunted him for the past year. So she was alive.
The realisation hit him at about the same time as a terrible feeling hit him in his gut. It was as if he had been punched in the stomach.
Severus was left breathless.
IIIII
That look on his face, he almost looked scared of her. That was until he started gasping for breath, then he just looked angry.
Was he angry? Hermione had no idea what she had done that would make him angry to see her; perhaps he just didn't ever want to see her again. It was possible, she was sure he didn't need his life saving anytime soon.
And that was all she was good for right?
In fact, when she thought about it, if anyone had the right to be angry it was her. He had hurt her. She could be fuming with him and it would be excusable.
But McGonagall had warned her about him. Hermione had wondered if he had died in the war, but a quick remark from her old professor had confirmed that he had lived. Which in a way was a shame, as so many good people had died.
Then she was offered his old job and Hermione figured that he had simply moved on. Just like he had done all those many months ago.
She in no way expected to see him here, right in front of her own eyes. Staring at her like she was simply one of his idiotic students.
With a fury in her eyes a feeling of braveness that reminded of her that she was once sorted into Gryffindor. Hermione held her head up high, gave him what she considered to be a curt nod and marched right past him.
A/N; Please Review