Downside of Aging Potions - Chapter Eighteen
"Even if you make mistakes
You still can't let me down
I will turn you around
And you know that."
-The Corrs, At Your Side
"Alright then, Severus, Hermione, how about you go work on a potion before something else happens." Dumbledore said wryly, and walking them to the door.
"We'll let you know how it is going in a couple hours." Snape said
"Now, now, Severus don't forget: you have a curfew."
Snape glared and walked out of the room, Hermione giggling and bidding the Headmaster goodnight.
They made their way to Snape's temporary room, after he decided he didn't want to be in the same dungeon as that "bimbo" now teaching potions. He didn't care for her very much, Hermione had gathered, and she couldn't blame him. She couldn't help getting the impression that she was a hooker and Dumbledore had run out of options.
It was very plain, not decorated, and looked like someone had just died in there.
"It's... nice." She said, after searching for a semi-fitting word.
Snape snorted and lit the fireplace with his wand. She noticed the scar on his forehead fading and his hair was returning to its coal-colored goodness and length.
She again looked over his room, gliding over the bed, empty bookshelf, couch, table and lonely chair, and the fireplace. "It just needs a bit of atmosphere, that's all."
Taking her wand out of her pocket, she waved it and his bookshelf filled with books of all kinds, magical and novels by Muggle authors. Another wave and she opened up the window, letting the moonlight into the room. A final flick and a vase with a lily inside appeared upon his table.
She smiled. "There."
Snape approached his bookcase first thing and scanned the shelves.
"Shakespeare, very nice... Henry David Thoreau... Potion books... Moby Dick?" He looked up at her, alarmed.
"It's a Muggle classic." She stated indignantly.
"If you say so..."
He looked back at the shelf and as he read each title, he slid his pale finger across the bookshelf, "Edgar Allen Poe, excellent... hmm... you know Gilda Radner?"
"Naturally." Hermione replied with a shrug.
Snape raised his eyebrows and collapsed into his couch.
She gazed at him intently for a few minutes as he stared into his fire. She admired the way the firelight made his skin look fiery orange, and the way the fire seemed to bounce off his hair as it flickered innocently. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together almost insecurely.
Hermione looked out the window, at the moon and star-speckled sky. What a night... and what a day she'd had.
She looked back at him. She sensed something in his eyes, a look of longing. Longing for... something, to say something...
"You know..." He began, his voice almost to the point of hoarse and so quiet that she stopped breathing to hear him, "I've only just realized my Mark is gone."
Her eyes flew to his left arm and then back up to his face just as quickly.
Running a hand through his hair (which greatly surprised Hermione,) he sighed, "I've made..."
She moved over to sit by him, not knowing exactly what he was talking about. She watched him struggle for words. It looked as though it was hurting him. Concerned, she touched his arm lightly.
He shook his head and sighed, "Listen, what I said about... separating... I mean, I do think that we have been... kind of close for student and teacher," He said slowly, looking at her hand which she removed as soon as he finished, "Not that... I mean..." He sighed in frustration.
"Se-err, Professor?- if-"
"That's just it," He said, standing up and walking over to the fireplace. When he spoke, she wasn't sure if it was to himself or her.
"It's not that I want to separate from you, but, you understand, some... encounters... we've had aren't acceptable. Law or otherwise. I just think... it would be wise to. Separate, I mean."
Hermione took in his words and let them soak her mind. She wondered if he remembered their 'encounter' when he was drunk. When his words seemed to finally hit her, she felt a poke at her heart, unexplainable and certainly illogical.
"If you think it best, sir." She said trying to remain passive, and starting to get up to leave.
Before she had time to register his movement, he had hit the wall with incredible force and his chest heaved uncontrollably. Even despite herself, she gasped and sank further into the couch.