Hermione fell onto the hard ground. She threw her hands out, but her legs had given out, and she was still hyperventilating. Her panic attack had worsened, and was finding it continuously harder to do anything. "What the hell are you doing?" Spat Severus Snape, firstly oblivious to Hermione's plight, and the fact it was Hermione all together. His limbs ached, and he fell straight onto his arse, although he would never have admitted it. When he recognised the head of curls, that were somewhat draped over the ball Hermione had contorted herself into, he was less than surprised. Of course that annoying little bookworm would have returned, he thought. Just when I was hoping for a year of peace. "Miss Granger, it's wonderful to see that years of education have done nothing to help your common sense. Have you head of looking before running through the hallway?" Snape spat sarcastically. However, Snapes words were almost whispers to Hermione, as she was trapped in the confines of her own fear. "Miss Granger, I am talking to you!"
At this, Hermione rose her head, curls falling away from her face, to look at the potions master who now stood before her. His overall appearance hadn't changed much, he still wore all black, and his skin was pale, apart from the jagged almost ghost-white start of the scar that marred what little of his throat was viewable. He wore a sneer on his face, the same Hermione saw in all her years of education, and Hermione's thoughts briefly flickered back to when she saw him, lying in the boathouse. He seemed so vulnerable then, but all his guards and masks seemed to be stitched into place now. However, when Hermione's head rose, Snape was able to acknowledge what was going on. Hermione's face was blotchy, but tears were absent. Her chest was rising and falling at an incredible pace, though all that was audible were a continuum of broken sobs and shudders. Her arms were wrapped round her knees and her hands seemed to be clutched to herself for dear life, she was a pale white. At this, the sneer dropped, and Hermione saw recognition in his face, and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint.
He stated the obvious. "You're having a panic attack." Hermione nodded in a short burst, and then her eyes dropped down to the floor again. "Miss Granger, we need to help you." Snapes voice was void of all sarcasm or cruelty. "I'll...beee...fiiinee." Hermione choked out. "Miss Granger, you are smart, even for a Gryffindor so don't be ridiculous. Let me help you up at least." At this, Snape extended his long, arm and hands out to her. Hermione's hands and body shook but she managed to take his hand in hers. She slowly rose, but her legs gave way again and she fell back into a heap on the floor. Still strangling out sobs. Snape sighed audibly, but picked Hermione of the floor, and carried her. It occurred to him, how inappropriate this was, but he understood the horrors of panic attacks, and felt it too cruel, even for a git like him to leave her there, to be found by someone. He walked fast, he didn't want to see, both her panicking and him carrying a student, on of the golden trio for goodness sake. Luckily, most students that had either remained behind or returned early seemed to be in their dormitories, luckily away from him. Soon, he found his study, and whispering the password, entered.
Firstly, he placed Hermione onto one of the two armchairs in his living quarters. "Breathe Miss Granger. You will be ok. It's going to be okay." Hermione was shocked by these kind words, and his change in attitude, and forced herself to even out her breathing slightly. "I'm going to get a potion now," He added. "Breathe." Any malice or coldness in his voice had gone, although it was still a low, velvety drawl. He exited through one of the doors and returned only a moment later, carrying a vial of a dark purple liquid. He passed it to Hermione, "Drink." He said, and she did.
Almost instantly, Hermione felt the weight on her chest lighten, and her mind seemed to become clearer. She could breathe properly, and see clearly, her eyes flickered to adjust to the light. Although, she thought, his study was in the dungeons, along with the rest of the Slytherins, there was a stained glass window that hung above the fireplace, and what appeared to be daylight was pouring through. However, when Hermione looked around, she spotted another two windows, and they quite obviously spoke of being underwater, by the lake. The what little walls of Snapes study that were viewable, most space along the walls was consumed by either bookshelf or window, were a dark colour, indistinguishable between green and black. His armchairs were a deep forest green, They had high backs, and Hermione could rest her head against them. Beside each armchair, small black carved tables came up to arm height, each with a candle in the corner. The fireplace contained a healthy amount of logs, although it was unlit. At the back of the hearth, the Slytherin emblem could be seen. Dotted around were two dozen or so candles, all unlit, but at various levels of use. Although it was a study, there was nothing of decoration, no paintings. There were no mirrors or any reflective surfaces at all. Hermione's eyes flickered back to the bookshelf, and she realised the potions master seemed to mirror her affinity for books.
"If you have quite finished eyeing up my study Miss Granger. It seems you've not changed you're over inquisitive know-it-all nature." Snape spoke again, his sly voice and cold tones had returned. Memories came flooding back to Hermione, and her chest felt tense again for a moment, but she found something was impeding her ability to return to her panicked and alarmed state. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry. Professors." Hermione blurted out, to shy to look the potion master in the eye again. "Do you feel okay Miss Granger?" Snape asked. Hermione nodded. "Actually, I feel a little light headed." Snape nodded solemnly, and took the place in the armchair opposite.
He conjured some tea and soup and sandwiches that appeared on the small tables that were to their right. "I have found that tomato soup and a cheese sandwich destroy that feeling quite well. Eat." Hermione nodded, and took a sip of her tea, finding it was exactly to how she drank it. "How do you know?" Hermione asked, and the look Snape shot at her made her stomach feel queasy, and she regretted asking. After five or so minutes of silence, Snape replied. "Are you naïve enough to think that this scar" He mentioned to the scar on his neck "Is the only scar I received through the war, Miss Granger?" He inhaled sharply. "Do you think that I, the snarky dungeons git, would be cold enough to shut out the memories of the war?" He became angry, and rose from his chair, to walk away from her, and he kept his back turned. "If that's really what you think of me, Miss Granger, then get out of my study now."
"I didn't mean it like that professor." Hermione's voice seemed to be a whisper against the room that suddenly felt so cold. She averted her eyes to pay attention to the forest green rug that lay on the stone beneath them. "I just, You, This happens to you too?" Snape chuckled darkly, before returning to his seat. "Miss Granger, lost for words. Someone should call Rita Skeeter." He took a bite from his sandwich. "Yes, this happens to me too." "The nightmares?" Snape shifted uncomfortably, "Yes." "Do you ever cry?" Snape looked offended. "No Miss Granger. I do not *cry*. If you plan on turning on the water works, please bore someone else with your dulcet screeching." "I can't cry either." Snape looked at her, unsure of what to make of the Gryffindor sitting in his study.
Now that she had stopped panicking, and her face wasn't blotchy, Snape realised she had a rather beautiful complexion. Her skin wasn't as pale as his, neither was it as tanned as some of the witches he saw today. He thought it was uniquely her. She had filled out her jumper quite well, and Snape quickly averted his eyes from that area. He looked back up to her eyes, to find that she was looking him directly in the eye.
"Why did you help me, Sir?" Snape rolled his eyes. "I would be a rather shabby teacher if I saw one of my students having a panic attack and did nothing to help them. Even if they were a member of the infamous golden trio." Snape sneered as he said this. "I told you." He said, malice suddenly gone again. "I get them too, and it was unfair to leave you alone, knowing I could have helped." Hermione gulped. "What was that potion,?" She asked. "Miss Granger, I am a potions teacher. Do you think it beyond me to be presented with an ailment and not be able to suggest something to help? It happens, that it is a potion of my own creation. A fact you will do well to keep to yourself. " Hermione nodded again. "What helps you, Professor, on the bad days?" Hermione asked, concern audible in her voice. At this, Snape turned.
Snape grew angry quickly, and Hermione wished she hadn't asked. "Miss Granger. Not only are you not supposed to be here, but I help you, give you a potion from my personal stores, and stop your panic attack. Then, when you're in my study, you ask incredibly personal questions!" He closed the space between them quickly, placing his hands on the arms of her chair. "It seems you still don't know when to shut your mouth!" He glared at her, his eyes flickered to her lips. He was close to her now, so close in fact the tendrils of his hair fell short only by a few centimetres of her face. "Don't ask me about my problems girl!" At this the otherwise timid Hermione bit back. "Why not?" At this, Snape seemed to be taken aback. "Why? Because I don't want some immature little girl, learning my secrets and then blabbing them to the whole school in exchange for popularity!" At this, Hermione rose from her chair slightly and their faces were so close, Hermione could smell the coffee on his breath. This boldness didn't go unnoticed, but instead of instinctively moving away Snape moved closer, and Hermione's eyes flickered to his lips. One glance at his eyes confirmed he was looking at hers. For a brief moment, Hermione sensed attraction, she believed so did Snape. There mouths were so close, with a slightest move of her head, she could...but then logic prevailed and she remembered exactly who she was talking to. "That's rubbish Professor. For one, I am not immature enough to blab about private conversations had with anyone, especially a teacher! Two, amazingly I'm not too pig-headed to think that you didn't suffer a lot during the war! You put your life on the line for us! You're a good man." Hermione said, the last part lacking in anger. "Good Man? You know nothing. Get out. I don't want you here." Snape said, voice ice cold and unforgiving.
Hermione's eyes filled up with hurt, and Snape moved to allow her to rise from the chair. "I am fully aware I am unwanted." She said. The previous moment f safety and desire seemed so far away. She rose from the chair, and wordlessly exited the room. Snape was turned away from her the entire time, and when she left, he turned, and flung her cup into the unlit hearth. He cursed under his breath. "They're all fucking bad days." He said, before turning and walking out the door.