Chapter 8

Ron's eyes were flashing like twin lightning storms as he took in the intimate attitude with which Snape and Hermione were conducting themselves.

"Ron!" Hermione cried. "How are you?" Her eyes were round as saucers.

She had to remind herself she was doing nothing wrong, for Ron's glare clearly imparted his impression that she was. She did not release Snape's arm.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape intoned with stiff politeness.

Ron nodded briefly in response to Snape's greeting, his mouth tightened with anger. Then, he turned his full attention to Hermione. "I came for a visit, since you didn't come to me." His eyes flashed again as he spoke with forced lightness.

Oh, dear God … Hermione groaned inwardly.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said quietly, feeling all the more as though she had been caught out. "I've been busy," she finished lamely.

"So, I see," he murmured, looking away briefly. "Is now a convenient time for us to talk? I could come back …" His words were polite. His tone was anything but.

Hermione thought it best to get the confrontation over with. "Of course, Ron," she said with gentle acquiescence.

"I don't think it is wise," Snape said suddenly in even tones. Hermione looked at him and noted his eyes were full of concern. "You need rest before you report to the hospital wing, Hermione." He was staring at her, as if willing her to heed him.

"I won't stay long," Ron said tightly. He was glaring at Snape.

"It's all right, Severus," Hermione said placatingly. And, she wished she could add that she would see him later, but she knew Ron was on the verge of an explosion, and such assertions would only send him sky high.

Hermione and Snape exchanged significant glances, and she squeezed his arm to reassure him. Severus pursed his lips in response. "Very well," he said in clipped tones, as he returned Ron's glare. Ron tensed up, but did not quail. With one last glance at Hermione, he spun on his heel and strode away.

Ron looked fit to burst, his eyes snapping and his face red. Hermione hurried to say her password and curtly waved him inside without looking at him.

"You first," he muttered impatiently. So, Hermione skittered through the portrait hole with Ron fast at her heels.

"What was that all about?" Ron growled as soon as the door closed behind him. He was obviously barely holding his temper in check.

"What do you mean, Ron?" Hermione asked, her voice all innocence tinged with the slightest hint of challenge.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" Ron scowled. "Snape! You were walking with him! You were holding his arm, Hermione!" Ron did not raise his voice. It was deadly calm, which belied the force of his wrath much more effectively.

"Yes, I was," Hermione said without deprecation. Her eyes were somewhat defiant. "What of it?"

"What of it?" Ron was incredulous now. "You were acting as though you actually liked him!"

"I do like him, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed before thinking. Then her eyes widened with shock and her cheeks reddened. Her hand flew to her errant mouth with a light "smack".

Ron's eyes narrowed knowingly. "So, that's how it is, is it?" he said, looking suddenly defeated.

For a moment, Hermione said nothing, as she let her hand fall slowly to her side. She lifted her chin, and leveled an uncompromising gaze on her gobsmacked friend.

"You do not deny it?" Ron asked quietly. He looked away as he said it.

When she still did not answer him, he lowered himself wearily into an armchair before the fire. Hermione, feeling that the worst of the storm was over, moved softly to his side and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"No, Ron," she whispered. "I will not deny it."

For a moment they both stared into the crackling fire, each lost in his or her own thoughts. The reflection of the flames danced in Ron's unblinking eyes.

"I see," he said finally in regretful tones. "Then, I suppose it would do no good to remind you that, now the war is over, I would like to try talk about restarting our relationship?" The inflection of his voice suggested that this was a question to which he all ready knew the answer.

Hermione looked down on him, her eyes pitying. "No, Ron. None at all." There were tears in her voice, but they did not fall from her eyes. "It's not because of Severus alone …" she began. She noted Ron's wince at her use of Snape's first name.

"I know," Ron interrupted her, raising his hand dismissively. He glanced at her for a moment, his expression pained. He looked away before continuing. "I think I knew that the day you visited Harry and I in the hospital wing just before you got sick."

"Yes." It was all she could think to say.

Then, without warning, Ron was out of his chair and pacing before the fire. He ran his hand through his hair. "I really blew it, then. Didn't I?" He said with a shaky laugh and a bitter smile. Hermione sat on the arm of the chair he had just vacated, watching him with quiet compassion. "I should have never broken it off with you last year."

"Ron, no," Hermione said, wishing to assuage him. "It just wasn't meant to be, that's all," she finished firmly.

Ron stared at her for a moment. He opened his mouth as though to speak again. Then, he only nodded, but he didn't seem entirely convinced.

Hermione went to him and tentatively took his hand. "I know you'll need time," she said. "But, I hope we'll still be good friends once you've accepted …" She stopped herself, as his eyes darkened and he tried to draw his hand away. "You're still important to me, Ron," she said, biting her lip anxiously and clinging to his hand.

Ron nodded slowly. Hermione could see the struggle going on inside of him as she observed his mobile face. His eyes were angry and hurt. Hermione waited with round, pleading eyes for the outcome of his internal battle.

In the end, Ron nodded again and gently took her into his arms and laid his forehead on her slight shoulder. He heaved a pained sigh, as Hermione wrapped her arms around him comfortingly.

Just at that moment, Hermione heard her portrait hole door open with its characteristic soft "scrape". Both Ron and Hermione looked up to see Snape's imposing, black form filling the doorway. But, as he was in shadow, Hermione could not see his face.

His voice was as cold as winter when he spoke. "Excuse me, I was only concerned for Miss Granger," he gritted out mockingly. "But, I can see I needn't have bothered." The words were like blows to Hermione's heart.

"Severus, no!" she cried. "You misunderstand." She moved toward him swiftly. Her hand touched his arm and her eyes locked to his. She gasped at the raw pain she saw pooling there.

Snape pulled his arm away from her as though her touch seared him. "On the contrary, Miss Granger," he said with quiet anger. "I understand all too well." And he all but disappeared, before she could say another word.

"Hermione, I'm sorry …" Ron said with a sigh. "Maybe if I go talk to him …"

Hermione felt shell shocked. "No, Ron," she said with a sad smile. "I'll go." She shook herself, as if to dispel the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her.

Now was the time for action.

"I'm sorry I can't talk anymore just now. Maybe later, all right?"

She was all ready half way through the portrait hole when, suddenly, she turned and strode purposefully to her bedside table, ripped open its drawer, and pulled out her journal. Ron watched with faintly curious eyes as she hurriedly muttered a Shrinking Charm over it and slipped it into a pocket in her robes.

"I think we've said all we need to say, Hermione," Ron replied grimly. "Just go."

Hermione nodded slowly and turned away.

"Hermione," Ron called at the last second. She turned back once more. "Good luck," he said with a weak smile.

"Thanks, Ron. That means a lot." And, with a small parting wave, she set out toward the Potions room.

For a moment, panic threatened to overtake her, as she sped through the corridor.

What the bloody hell am I going to do? she thought fearfully. She wrung her hands, as her stomach twisted within her. I could lose him, and we haven't even had a proper start!!

Then, a wholly new thought came to her. Snape would never back down from a fight, and neither must she back down from this. She must go after him with the set determination that he must listen to her. She may make him as angry as he could ever remember being. But, he would have to respect her persistence … her courage to take him on.

Yes, no matter what he said or did, she must be prepared to stand her ground. She must take whatever he decided to dish out.

Then, that's what I'll just have to do! Severus Snape, do your worst! she thought, as she stomped up to the double doors and pushed with all her might. All she got for her mighty effort was thrown to the floor on her backside with bone jarring force. What the hell is the matter with the doors? She jumped straight up, nothing daunted.

A few minutes of increasingly agitated knocking later, Hermione felt frantic as she tried for the third time to push through the familiar double doors. Snape's wards had let her get this far, but the bloody doors were not to be breached.

I can't believe this is happening, she thought, as she began pounding angrily once again.

"For heaven's sake, Severus!" she called, not even attempting to hide her frustration. "Open the bloody doors! We need to talk!"

The only answer she received for her pains was an eloquent silence.

"Oh, bother!" Hermione kicked the door and felt the reverberating pain run from her toe to her hip. "Damn!" she cried. "Severus, I'll stay out here all day and all night if I have to! Open up!" She banged again. Then a truly evil idea formed itself in her mind. "Or, perhaps I should just tell you what I have to say from out here," she continued with her jaw set stubbornly. "I certainly hope no one happens by right now!"

At that, the doors were flung open with such force that they hit the walls on either side with a sound "crack". Snape stood just inside, looking absolutely furious. "You wouldn't dare!" he snarled.

Hermione lifted her chin rebelliously, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Try me!"

Snape's eyes widened. "Ridiculous, idiot girl!" he muttered acidly. But, he stood aside, allowing Hermione to flounce in triumphantly.

Her demeanor told nothing of the sick feeling she had inside. She knew she only had one shot at repairing the damage, and she intended to use it wisely.

So, with seemingly easy, purposeful steps she moved to her workbench. Snape's onyx gaze followed her suspiciously, as she ran her hand almost reverently over the table top. For some reason, she did not understand, being near her work station inspired confidence in her … a confidence she very much needed just now as she was to face down a presumably hurt and angry Snape, and come out of it not only unscathed but victorious.

Finally, she turned to him and leaned a hip against the table's edge, trying to look as calmly reasonable as possible. "I wish to explain what you saw just then in my rooms," Hermione began without preamble.

Snape's eyes became mere slits and his face hardened perceptibly. "You need not explain anything to me, Miss Granger. What you do in your private time is your own business. I've no interest in it whatsoever."

During this speech, Snape had moved to his own desk and had assumed a remarkably similar stance to Hermione's current position.

So … squaring off, are we? she thought grimly.

But, she only eyed him disbelievingly. "Your behaviour suggests otherwise, Severus," she said shortly.

He snorted derisively. "I do not know to what you are referring," he countered with an air of condescension.

"All right then," she said huffily. "Why have you suddenly reverted to calling me 'Miss Granger', again, if I've done nothing to offend you? And, why did I have to all but beat the doors down to speak to you?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

He stared daggers at her, but did not reply.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed off from the workbench, agitation in every line of her body, as she drew near to him. "I believe, Severus, that the time has come for both of us to stop dancing around the truth and admit how we feel about each other. Don't you?" She stopped her advance about five feet away from him, sensing it would be unwise to press him too hard.

Snape drew himself up to full height and grasping his cloak in both pale hands gracefully wrapped it about himself. With his glinting obsidian stare and cruelly sneering mouth, he was a most intimidating figure, indeed.

"You assume too much, girl!" he hissed in icy tones, as he looked down his prodigious nose at her.

But, Hermione was not fooled. She had seen too much—had been through too much with Snape not to know he was only posturing in an attempt to drive her away and protect his heart.

"I don't think I assume too much at all, Severus," she said soberly.

Without warning, Snape slammed his fist down on his desk. "Impertinence!" he bellowed, his eyes fiery. Hermione held in check her natural reaction to jump at his outburst and continued to gaze at him calmly. "I am unwilling to countenance any more of your foolishness, Miss Granger," he said coldly, reverting to his usual controlled demeanor with lightning speed. "You. May. Go!" he finished pointedly.

Hermione felt white hot anger, mixed with indignance at his summarily dismissing her, as though she was still his student. It boiled rapidly to the surface. "No!" she shot back loudly, putting her hand on her hips and making ready to display her temperamental side. "I will not be treated like a child!" Snape's eyes registered shocked surprise at her outburst. He opened his mouth to retort, but she only shouted him down. "If you've not the courage to say what is in your heart, then I do!" She moved a step nearer to him. "The fact is …" she paused for a breath, then plunged on. "I love you, you infuriating man! And I want more than anything to be with you! What you saw in my rooms was Ron and I saying good-bye after I told him I did not want anything more than friendship with him!"

Hermione was terrifying in this moment. Her face was flushed, her hair flying, as she gesticulated wildly. She looked like a wrathful goddess. Snape did not attempt to speak again, but stood in open awe, no less because of her manner than her startling words.

She is openly declaring herself to me …he thought in shock. He felt as though he had fallen into an alternate universe. He could not find his feet.

For a moment the two just stared at each other. Then, Hermione was off on her tangent again. "Oh, I've no more patience for this!" And, with that she whipped out her wand with one hand, and rummaged in her robes with the other for her shrunken journal.

"Engorgio!" she spat impatiently, as she prodded the tiny book with her wand. "Here," she said, shuffling through the pages of the restored journal with quick, precise movements. "This will explain everything." And, she shoved the open book into Snape's hands roughly. "Read it, Severus," she said commandingly, daring him with her eyes to refuse. "I've got to go to work." She sped away from him and did not look at him again as she stormed out of the room, the wake of her fury swirling behind her.

Hermione stomped all the way to the Great Hall, fuelled by her powerful anger. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she wanted to remain angry for as long as possible, for she sensed that the minute her wrath dissipated the aching of her heart would dominate her emotions, and that wouldn't be comfortable, at all.

Her fury held as she waded through the crowd in the Entrance Hall. She barely noticed the witches and wizards she was bowling over in her mindless haste, much less the dirty looks her victims threw at her.

Elbowing her way into the Great Hall, she threw herself down at a half-filled table and started roughly grabbing whatever food first came to hand. She didn't see Ginny slip into the seat opposite her, as she muttered heatedly to herself,.

By then, she was stabbing heartlessly at a chicken breast and growling. "Wouldn't even listen to me! The great git!"

A soft hand reached across the table and covered the hand clutching at the fork. "Hey. What did that chicken do to you?" Ginny asked softly.

Hermione closed her eyes and bit at her bottom lip in an effort to keep back a sharp retort. She felt inexplicably irritated at Ginny's intrusion. "Nothing," she bit out sullenly. And, she began viciously stirring her potatoes.

Ginny took her hand away and watched her friend for a moment. "Don't tell me," she said finally, "let me guess. It's Snape, isn't it?"

Hermione's head shot up so fast, she felt a sharp pain in her neck. "How did you know?" She was glaring, without meaning to do so.

Ginny was not phased. "Just a lucky guess," she replied with a wry smile. "And … I saw Ron a bit ago and he …"

"Oh …" Hermione groaned, and lowered her eyes to her much abused lunch miserably.

Suddenly, all the fight went out of her. She felt like a deflating balloon.

Goodbye, anger—hello, pain.

"Oh, Ginny!" she whined. "It was just awful!" She pushed her lunch away and dropped her head to the table dejectedly.

Ginny eyed her friend sympathetically. "Not as bad as all that, surely."

"Oh, yes!" Hermione nodded emphatically. "You should have seen us just now. He was so stubborn! He wouldn't listen to anything I had to say! Just kept trying to get me to leave!"

"He was hurt, Hermione," Ginny said, softly recriminating. "And, more than a little jealous, I'd imagine."

Hermione considered this. Then, in a flash of memory, she saw Snape's pained eyes as they were in the doorway of her rooms, just before he'd left her. "Perhaps," she said primly.

"Now who's being stubborn? You might as well stop hiding from the truth, Hermione. It's as plain as the nose on your face," Ginny admonished with no trace of amusement on her pretty face.

And Hermione pinked up, giving her friend an embarrassed grin. "All right," she said, finally conceding the point. "You're right."

Ginny nodded. "From what Ron said …"

"Oh, Ron." Hermione dropped her head in an open palm with a groan. "How is he?" she asked in a small voice as she peeped out at Ginny from behind her hand.

"He'll live," Ginny answered glibly. "He just wishes he hadn't thrown you over when he had you."

Hermione sighed. She just could not bring herself to discuss Ron's disappointment with Ginny right now. "He was really great, you know. He offered to go talk to Severus, but I said I'd better do it."

"Severus, is he?" Ginny said with a chuckle.

"Yes," Hermione said tightly. She was in no mood for teasing.

Ginny took the hint and immediately rearranged her features accordingly. "What are you going to do?"

"I already did it," Hermione mumbled.

"Oh?" Ginny raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes, I went to his Potions room and beat on the door until he let me in. We had a bit of a row. And, when I saw he wasn't listening to me, I told him that I love him and stomped out … that is, after I gave him my journal to read as proof of my feelings." Hermione said all this very matter-of-factly, enumerating her every action on the fingers of one hand.

Ginny stared at her in open amazement, her blue eyes wide, her jaw dropped. "You told him that you love him?" she squeaked as she clutched at both of Hermione's hands.

Hermione regarded her evenly, but there was a flash of daring in her chocolate brown eyes. "Yes," she said, completely unruffled. After all, she had only done what she must.
"I did."

"Well, good for you!" Ginny burst forth, shaking their clasped hands together and looking volumes of approval.

Hermione smiled, happy she had not shocked her friend. In fact, she noted with some satisfaction, that Ginny looked somewhat impressed by Hermione's boldness.

"That's that, then!" Ginny said, as though there was nothing more to be concerned about. Hermione looked at her questioningly.

But, Ginny's expression was serenely confident. "He'll read your journal, see that you really do love him, and the two of you will live happily ever after. Simple!"

Hermione laughed, but the sound was hollow. "I don't think it will be that easy, Ginny," she said, a note of cynicism in her voice.

"Nonsense!" Ginny insisted. "He loves you, Hermione!"

"Look," Hermione said seriously. "I won't deny that Severus cares something for me. But, love? I don't know."

"Of course he loves you! All the signs point to it!" Ginny said forcefully. Then, she remembered where they were, and that this was a private conversation "You wait and see, Hermione," she continued as she leaned toward her friend, her voice lowered, but no less insistent. "As soon as he reads your heart, in black and white, he'll speak right up. I just know it!"

"I hope so." It was all Hermione could force out past the lump of fearful uncertainty in her throat.