Chapter 12: Protect me From What I Want
Severus woke up early and went outside to make coffee. Right away, he popped back in to get his cloak. The weather in Greece was warm even in the end of October, but he was high enough in the mountains to feel the morning chill. The sun had not risen yet, but it was light enough to find his way to the fireplace. Wrapped tightly in his soft black cloak, he stared at the rising foam in the pot, thinking about Hermione. He had given up calling her "Miss Granger" even in his mind. She was due to arrive in the afternoon and his emotions warred between anticipation and anxiety. The unwanted feelings she had awoken in him next to the lily pond in the park made him distinctly uncomfortable. On the other hand…he wanted to see her. He gritted his teeth in annoyance and poured the boiling coffee in a thick mug. He hoped that the whole debacle was caused by his isolation from all humankind, including females. He tried to attribute his unhealthy interest to his reawakened reproductive instincts. After all, my body was smart enough to know that finding a woman during my spy career was meaningless and far too dangerous. Now that it has become clear that I'm alive and staying alive, my stupid hormones are tying to latch to the first available female around. I've had a few days to clear my mind, maybe when she shows up today everything will be back to normal.
He stood up and started pacing, trying to ignore the infernal inner voice, who smirked at him, Keep thinking that, old man.
The problem was that Hermione had many other qualities beyond being female. Her intelligence drew the scholar in him like moth to a flame. He rejoiced every time she grasped a complex concept just from a few words, without lengthy explanations. Her fierce loyalty to her friends evoked both respect and envy in him. Having been betrayed and disappointed more times than he cared to count made him covet that loyalty for himself. In a way, she had been loyal to him…he knew from Potter that she had been respectful to him throughout their schooldays. She was the one who came to his aid in the Shrieking Shack and almost gave her life away to save his. However, that was the loyalty she felt for a teacher and fellow Order member. He wanted to mean something more to her. He wasn't sure what that meant exactly. His traitorous body had its own opinion, but maybe, hormones set aside, he could be her friend? Yes, friend was good...and safe.
Pushing all thoughts of Hermione Granger aside, he sat under the fig tree and threaded his fingers through the dry grass, lightly touching the soil. He felt the thrum of life through his fingers and reached out. Soon the air shimmered and Vesna appeared in her white dress, smiling softly.
'How nice of you to invite me for coffee, Severus. As always, you make the best brew.' She poured herself a mug and eased down next to him. He stared at the ground, unsure what to say. He was not certain why exactly he had called out to Vesna. He knew he could always turn to her in times of trouble, but he had no idea how she could help him in this particular predicament.
'How is your research coming along?' she asked, sniffing her coffee and making sounds of delight.
'Still the same. I'm doing something wrong, I did the Arithmancy on the potion and it comes out all garbled and twisted, so I can't even tell where the problem is.' Severus sighed. 'I gave Hermione the chronicles. Maybe she will see something that I don't.'
'She is an exceptional young woman, isn't she?' Vesna eyed him askance.
'Indeed.' His eyes shifted involuntarily, but Vesna had always been able to read him easily.
'I see. Do you want to talk about it?'
'I am not sure there is anything to talk about.' He saluted her with his mug. 'I simply need company to take my mind off...her.' There. He said it. Vesna nodded and relaxed against the tree trunk. She squeezed his hand lightly.
'There is nothing wrong with letting yourself feel, Severus, you know. Not everyone you let in your heart will break it.'
'Everyone up to now has, Vesna; except you, of course.' He squeezed back. The old woman chuckled and they drank their coffee in silence, watching the sunrise.
Hermione spent the remainder of the week trying to concentrate on her work. However, all sorts of disturbing thoughts popped into her head at most inopportune times. When on Friday she almost blew up the lab, Master Borisov simply pointed to the door.
'Out, Miss Granger. Clearly there is something bothering you. Take the day off and get some rest. I want you back tomorrow in your full capacity.'
Hermione hung her head and collected her things. Despite her best efforts, her lip trembled. She had never messed up a potion so bad. She walked out without looking at her teacher, but he followed and stopped her just outside the door.
'Miss Granger, this is not a punishment. You need some time off and you are not fit to brew in this condition. It happens to everyone.' He gave her a meaningful look. 'If he did something to upset you, just tell me and I will give him hell. You are my student now, only I have the right to upset you.'
Hermione smiled weakly and wiped her eyes. 'No, he has been kind to me. I just…I have a lot on my mind. I promise I will be better by tomorrow.'
The old man let her go and smiled. 'Go ahead, now. And tell the boy he has been neglectful of his old master lately, I am looking forward to his next visit.'
Hermione nodded and left, trying to reconcile the word 'boy' with Severus. Somehow it didn't fit.
The weather had just turned and the warm autumn scenery of the city was now grey and depressing. The constant drizzle and the cold wind that seemed to ambush her around every corner did not do anything for her mood. She couldn't even take a walk in the park. Not that she wanted to; the very idea of the lily pond was enough to make her both hot and cold inside. In a fit of mutiny against her 'good girl' image, she entered a small shop on the way to the flat and bought a bottle of red wine. Viktor had shown her some of the better local wines, but they always drank a glass or two with dinner, nothing more. She was not the drinking sort anyway. However, standing in the shop and looking through the window at the grey city, the only thing she wanted to do was go home and curl up on her bed with a bottle of wine and a good book or a sappy romantic movie. Soon after the telephone, Viktor had bought a television set and a DVD player. So she picked a bottle of her favourite wine, not too strong but tart enough to pull back her gums, and walked to the flat. Of course, when she was halfway there, the drizzle turned into a flood. She couldn't risk an Impervious charm in front of all the Muggles running for cover. Shit. She ran, too.
She walked into the flat and went straight to the bathroom for a hot shower. Half an hour later, wrapped into a soft terrycloth robe, she sat in front of the TV and looked through the movie collection. Finally settling for 'Love, Actually', and after a brief struggle with the corkscrew, she poured herself a glass of wine and relaxed on the sofa. Silently, she saluted into the empty air. Here's to me, Hermione Granger, swot extraordinaire-getting drunk before noon. Half a bottle later and an hour into the movie, she could not avoid the reasons for attempted drunkenness any longer. The next day she was going to Greece. She was going to him! The idea of being alone with him made her quiver with anticipation. And that, in turn, made her scared shitless. She tried to remember all the times he had been mean and cruel in school. She tried to remember him in billowing black robes, his condescending sneer. However, all she could hear was his mellow baritone instructing her about Wielding and his fierce love for his childhood friend. All she could see was a lock of inky black hair against a white shirt, making the same striking contrast as the black hair trail that ran along his belly against his marble-white skin…she groaned and banged her head on the back of the sofa. This is so confusing. Why do I even think of him like that? He used to be my Professor, for crying out loud!
Attraction to the opposite sex was not a stranger to Hermione. She had felt the first flutters when she was Viktor's date for the Yule Ball. Yet somehow, it had been more the thrill of exploring the unknown. Not that there was much exploring beyond a few kisses and an awkward grope. She was way too young then, and after all they had turned out much better as friends. She had felt small tugs in her gut during the summers in the Burrow, when most of the Weasley sons wandered around shirtless at some point. But it had been just that-a small tug, a spark of interest which subsided as soon as the Weasley in question disappeared from her sight. Then there was the kiss with Ron during the final battle. It was definitely passionate, but not the right kind of passion.
None of these encounters with her sexual nature had ever unfazed her so. It was a part of her that made itself known from time to time, but it never interfered in her life until this point. She couldn't comprehend it. After all, she had spent hours sunbathing in the backyard of the Burrow with Bill Weasley, all tanned skin, roguish smile and long auburn hair. It was basically the dream of every witch above Hogwarts age. However, the memory of his mostly naked body, clad in cut-offs and glistening in the sun made her feel nothing but affection and regret for his maimed face. The memory of the two-inch wide strip of Severus' stomach she had glimpsed made her squirm in her seat. Gods, what is WRONG with me?!
Frustrated and angry at herself, she turned off the TV and went to her room. The parcel Severus had given was stashed away in the lowest desk drawer. She had yet to enlarge it. I think about him all the time, anyway. I asked to visit him tomorrow; I might as well go prepared. She took the parcel out and bracing herself, she tapped it with her wand. There were two books inside, each wrapped in soft cotton cloth for protection. She couldn't help but smile; there was a man who cherished books as much as her. She picked up the first tome. It was evidently very old; it had no title, only an elaborate engraving of a large tree. The tree's roots went as far down as the crown went up. She opened the book and looked at the first two pages. Her eyes widened when she realized that the book contained the chronicles of Wielding. Apparently it was written by more than one person; the handwriting, the ink and the style changed, and it alternated between history and personal journal entries. She sat on her desk and soon was engrossed in reading. She never heard Viktor come home, she didn't see him take a peek in her room and shake his head with silent amusement. Only when it was too dark to read she lifted her head and rubbed her gritty eyes. She went to the kitchenette to grab a bite and returned to the book, switching on the light.
Much later, she woke up with a crick in her neck. She had fallen asleep on her desk, thankfully not on the book. She didn't think Severus would appreciate her drooling on his precious tomes. Staggering to her bed, she fell asleep promptly, all her earlier worries pushed back by the swirling mass of information she was trying to absorb.
A/N: I love reviews sooo much! (well, who doesn't?) Thanks to eveyone who left a word. This chapter's title belongs to Placebo I'm sorry that it is so short, but I felt it needed to stand by itself.