A/N: I do want to address something: If you feel this story's moving fast, look at the timeline. Months passed that Severus and Hermione didn't talk and months passed where they did... so it's not really. I'm just leaving out the stuff I'm too bored to write.
Chapter 7:
Not knowing which words were right, he kept still and quiet. His hair was getting dirty from the rock it was resting on, his robes fading in color from their time spent directly in the sun, his skin starting to burn from heat, and yet he still couldn't bring himself to move. A sort of peace had rested upon him since the last words that were spoken. He felt lazily comfortable; for once in his life, he was content. He couldn't quite understand why. Was it because maybe she wasn't that different from him and that much better? Was it because maybe she understood him and actually knew what she was saying when giving him advice? He didn't know nor did he care at the moment.
He could still feel her body resting next to his, and it didn't bother him. Her words still rang in his head, but that didn't bother him either. In fact, nothing at the moment seemed to bother him at all. He felt closer to Hermione, and he found himself enjoying it. She wasn't disgusted by him or his deeds (even if she didn't know the extent of what he had done), and he certainly wasn't disturbed by hers. It was odd that murder could bring him such peace when before all it had brought him was pain and sleepless nights. He didn't know where their relationship stood. He didn't know what the hell Lupin was to her. He didn't know what her motives were in doing this to him. He didn't know why she cared so much for him. He didn't know why he cared so much about her thoughts. He didn't know why he cared for her so much when he had only cared for one person prior to her. He didn't know how he could possibly care for her more than…
"What are your intentions?" He vaguely asked, not allowing himself to think about a certain green-eyed girl who still haunted him.
"My intentions?" She asked, stifling a yawn. She sat up, turning to look at him curiously.
"For this." He also sat up before pointing a finger between them.
"I'm not sure. To be quite honest, it depends on how I handle things with Remus…" She trailed off, a concerned expression now situated on her face, her lips thinning. She bit her bottom lip.
""So you are with him." He stated.
He'd never thought that she was that type of girl- the type who cheated on their supposed loved one without remorse. Even while clearly she was remorseful now, she still did what she did. She egged him on to kiss her, and he did, and she kissed back. Then, words rang in his head. 'I'm not who you think I am.'
He hadn't even thought to evaluate those words. Somehow, the way she said them so bitterly combined with the way she seemed to go into a slight dream state, he didn't think it was about her next words. There was something Hermione Granger was hiding, and it would eat him alive until he knew what. What could she possibly be hiding? Why she came here?
He'd doubted her transfer story even when it seemed everyone else bought it. But he did promise himself that he wouldn't think about that in dept for once. He always kept his promises. So, he hadn't thought about it. Though now that he did think about it (since he determined promises weren't true if they weren't spoken out loud), it was all so utterly suspicious that he'd even consider the possibility that she was also a Deatheater. That'd make a great deal of sense.
She wasn't like that, though. He definitely wasn't wrong about that. She was peaceful and kind and caring. There was no way in Merlin's beard that she was a Deatheater. He crossed that off of the possibilities. So, what was her deal? She was such a mystery- a puzzle. He swore to himself that he would find out before the year was over.
"Of course not! What kind of a person do you think I am?" She seemed outraged at the suggestion, her eyes opening up widely. He could see sadness and anger at his accusation.
"What am I supposed to think?" He asked rhetorically, equally angry now. "You're with him all the bloody time, all hours of the night, and he's basically sitting on you in the Great Hall! Now, I kiss you, and you don't know what it means because of him! And you're asking me how I could think that?" He snorted, a disgusted look appearing on his face, hiding the fact that he said all hours of the night. He didn't want her to know what he saw.
"I'm sorry for having friends and valuing their opinions enough to ask for advice. I'm sorry, Severus, but he's been one of my greatest friends since I've been here. It hasn't been too easy for me, if you care enough to know. But you probably don't. You haven't cared these past weeks, so why would you now?" He was glad to see a defiant expression on her face. What he wasn't glad to see, were the tears that were bubbling in the corners of her eyes.
"I do care." He admitted, not wanting her to run off again and leave him alone. His face, which had returned to its stony façade just minutes prior now exposed his eyes to her.
His black eyes always sealed whatever he was trying to hide. They were cold by nature, only burning to a darker shade of charcoal when he was truly angry. This rarely happened, even though he had a violent temper. Though now, they were neither shade of black. They lightened, a window into his soul, revealing the regret and despair he felt at her words. They turned to an almost dark brown colour, pleading with her to understand.
He moved his right hand to lightly take her left. She shuddered at the touch, but didn't withdraw. He felt a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach when he looked at their joined hands. It somehow seemed to him that this couldn't last long and that even if it did, it wouldn't turn out for the best. He knew that whatever he was doing was wrong on too many levels for him to comprehend at the moment. He was being selfish, and they would both be punished for it.
He still didn't care at the moment.
Her hands were too soft. Her smile was too uplifting. Her companionship was too absorbing. He could be rude to her, he could be mean to her, he could try to curse her, but nothing would get that… good feeling she somehow managed to light inside of him to go away. He was in far too deep for denial now, and it killed him. And it made him angry. And he couldn't even convince himself that he wished she was gone anymore.
"You shouldn't care. I'm not who you think I am." She took her other hand and put it around the two they had entwined already. This time, it was his turn to shiver at the touch.
"And you're repeating yourself. I'm not ready to talk about my past, and you're not ready to talk about yours. Let us go on living in the present." He held onto her hand another second longer before he released it and jumped down the boulder.
"Where are you going?" She asked. He didn't have to turn to see a smile on her face; he could hear it in her voice.
"I'll see you in the library tonight. Be ready to answer my questions." He called, a few yards away now. Then, he stopped and turned around, a lazy smile lingering on his face. "Oh and Hermione? Happy Valentine's Day."
He smirked to himself, knowing the words he said were effecting her even as he walked out of her sight. Tonight would surely be an interesting night.
It was approaching the end of dinner, and he couldn't help but smirk at the fleeting glances Hermione was sending him. She looked downright uncomfortable in her seat; she could probably feel the heat of his stare on her back even as she was occupied talking to Lupin. She would pick up her utensils in an almost shaky manner before heaving a sigh and setting them down again, looking dejectedly at her plate. Then, she'd turn to converse with Evans, Potter, Black, Pettigrew, or Lupin (though the conversation with Pettigrew seemed somewhat strained).
He shrugged off any reasoning as to why she had been behaving so coldly with Pettigrew and thought about Lupin's behavior around her. It drastically differed from previous dinners. It seemed that he had backed off of her slightly and now didn't sit so closely to her, though his demeanor hadn't changed. To an untrained eye, it would've probably remained unnoticed, but Severus knew better. He saw Lupin divert his eyes from her when she looked even relatively in his direction. He saw that he had a pained look flashing in his eyes every time he was pulled into a conversation, that also included her.
Wondering if Hermione had talked to him, just as she had claimed she would, was now pointless. Obviously she either had done that or she had a falling out with him, of other sorts. He doubted that Hermione could purposely put someone off, and he thought the same about Lupin. He wondered just how the conversation had gone. Then, he could at least know what was going on in her mind. He would be thrilled to know her feelings. It even surprised him that he only slightly wanted this information for manipulative purposes.
For the twentieth time since he met her, he resisted the urge to invade her mind. He only did this because he feared that she would be able to sense his presence. She wasn't stupid enough to mistake it for something else. She was definitely too bright to believe it was a simple headache or a misc. flood of memories. She would know automatically what it was, and she would be furious. Then, she'd never speak to him again.
That could either be a curse or a blessing, depending on how he looked at it.
"You're staring again, Snape. You're not trying to devour the poor Gryffindor with your eyes now, are you?" The redhead asked him, a friendly smirk on his face (probably the only friendly one in the Slytherin house).
"I should not think so, as she is still alive and breathing." Severus replied, sarcasm evident in his voice. He decided to give Hermione some breathing room and turn to have a conversation with Hudson.
"I haven't seen you with such a pleasant look on your face in over a year, Snape. While the rest of our beloved house may be filled with ignorant dolts and powerhungry puppets, I am not one of those misunderstood souls." The sarcasm in his voice was lighthearted. "I see the way you look at her just like you looked at those letters you used to get."
Severus resisted rolling his eyes and simply put the words out of his head. There wasn't any way that Hudson had analyzed him so easily when even he hadn't gotten to the root of his insipid emotions. "I see you're as full of yourself and the dimwitted conclusions you've drawn as always. I must say you've really outdone yourself this time."
"I'm glad to see the love in your heart hasn't dulled your tongue." Hudson said, now in an annoying singsong voice. He only wished that he said it louder, so that every Slytherin would have heard the word love and come storming over to Hudson to make his life a living hell. Then, Severus would finally have peace.
"You're delusional." Severus said sharply, looking at his empty plate and at the clock that chimed the time.
"So I am then, but… so are you."
"You've become but a babbling third year Hufflepuff now. What would the Dark Lord say at your pitiful words, so strongly filled with emotions?" Snape snapped.
"I'm not controlled by him, and maybe one day you won't be either. But I guess it's easier for me, since I do not plan to take the dark mark as my father wishes." Hudson's words turned cold, and he turned back to his own dinner.
And that left Severus to his own ministrations before he saw Hermione walk out of the Great Hall, looking backwards out at him before letting the doors shut quietly.
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