Hermione sighed and reread the first sentence of the essay she was supposed to be grading. But once again, none of it registered in her mind; it was just words on a page. Biting her lip, she blinked several times, trying in vain to actually absorb what her student had written. But again, she failed. Sitting back her chair, she let her head fall against the back of it and stared up at the ceiling. The next time she bent over the essay she noticed drops of liquid on the parchment and realized she'd been crying. Lifting her wand and removing her tears from the paper, she tried to clear her mind and begin again.
It had been two weeks since she'd gone to the dungeon and to the potions classroom looking for answers and eventually kissed Severus instead. Two weeks since he had pushed her away and told her that they could never be together. Two weeks of misery, during which she had put a smile on her face and actually emerged from her rooms. To everyone else, she was perfectly fine. Or so she thought.
Severus was keeping a close eye on her, and he saw the things that the others didn't; she bit her lip more often than usual, was constantly lost in thought and sitting pensively, worked harder than she ever had before, and if anyone had known to look for the signs of a depressed person in Hermione's behavior, he was sure they would notice it too. She was miserable, depressed, and obviously experiencing a great amount of emotional pain.
Severus wanted so very badly to take back what he'd said, to tell her that he wanted nothing more than to be with her, to feel her soft lips against his and hold her small, lovely frame in his arms again. He was sitting behind his desk in the potions classroom, and he found himself staring at the place where he'd first kissed Hermione, and then, not far away at all, where she'd kissed him. Turning away and averting his gaze, he stopped looking at the spot and tried to focus on the stack of foot-long essays on his desk, but to no avail. He could only hope that she would stop being miserable and give up on him soon; it would lessen his pain. However, he was now fully aware of just how much he had come to care for the young transfiguration teacher, and he knew that just as he had loved Lily all those years before, so he would love Hermione, watching from a distance as she grew up, got married, and had her own family. But now there was no dark lord to threaten her life and Severus was able to rest in the fact that she and her family might just have a happy ending unlike Lily's.
Hermione had already finished her last class for the day, and she had a while before she had to make it to dinner. Eventually giving up on grading essays, she shoved the stack of parchment into a drawer and folded her arms on the desk, letting her head fall into them. She didn't cry, not then; only sighed and let her body go limp. She was trying to become numb, but failing as she had every day since the week after her birthday, when this misery had begun.
She wanted it to end. She wanted to just let Severus go, forget about him, move on. But she couldn't. It seemed that no matter how much she wanted to forget the way she felt, she could not. But she could do nothing about it; she couldn't go back and tell him that she cared far too much to let him go, because he didn't feel that way about her so it would be a waste of time.
Someone knocked on the open door to announce their presence and she lifted her head, tensing when she saw who it was. "Yes?"
His dark eyes regarded her coldly, but even she caught the glint in them; he was searching, observing, watching carefully. But for what, Hermione could not tell. "Dinner started without you and I was sent to see where you were."
Severus stood in the door way, calculating everything she did. Yes, she was still in misery. He watched as she nodded absently, her mind on other things. Her beautiful eyes even seemed to have a duller look to them as she let her gaze drift over him. Then their gazes met again and he noted the longing in her eyes. But her body was still limp and she was looking dejected. She was still beautiful, but looking so miserable that he wondered how the others had all failed to notice her present state.
"The headmistress would like you to join us at dinner," he said at last. The words came more quietly than he had intended.
She sat up straight, pulled out her unfinished stack of essays which needed grading, and said without looking up at him, "I'm not hungry, thanks," before she started reading essays. She was able to absorb what she was reading this time, and actually began grading the papers.
Severus leaned against the doorframe and watched her for a moment. McGonagall hadn't really sent him; he had noticed Hermione's absence and come to find her himself. He had stopped by her classroom and if she hadn't been there he would have gone to her door in the teachers' lounge and asked after her. He watched her. Head bent over her work, lips moving as she silently said every word she read, quill scratching something on the top of the parchment in dark ink when she had finished reading each essay. Had she not been behind the teacher's desk and grading papers, he would had sworn she looked just as she had back in her years as a student; reading carefully, absorbing and memorizing every word, and diligently taking notes. He closed his eyes; this was where she belonged, living her own life without him.
Hadn't he just agreed with himself that she looked like a student? Like a little girl? He had watched her go through school, had deducted points from her house, had taught her, since she was eleven years old. Hadn't he already determined that she was far too young? Then why was his chest aching as it always did when she crossed his mind? Why was he longing to rush to her side, to get down on his knees and tell her the truth—that he cared—and beg for her forgiveness? If he had already accepted that he was old enough to be her father, then why did he want so badly to hold her in his arms again? To kiss her lips? To do anything and everything in his power to make her happy?
He watched her for longer than he had intended. Hermione looked up, and there he stood. She was surprised to find him there still; she had thought he'd left right after she dismissed the idea of dinner. It occurred to her that if the headmistress had sent him, he'd have left by now. Setting her quill down and pushing the essay she'd just finished grading aside, she looked up at him, folding her arms across her chest. "She didn't send you?" But it was more of a statement than a question.
He said nothing, just looked at her in silence. To say that the headmistress had sent him would be an outright lie, and he suddenly felt quite unable to lie to the young woman looking up at him. But to agree with her suspicions was to let his plan of keeping her safe fail, and he would not allow that to happen. He turned and walked away, saying nothing.
Hermione went back to grading papers. She managed to absorb what she was reading and grade it with half of her mind and think about Severus with the other half. Her heart ached. He had been so close, and she had wanted so badly to be near to him, but he did not feel as she did. He cared, hadn't she determined that earlier? He cared about her general wellbeing, though it was nothing more and he did not love her. He could never love her. He had only come alone and without McGonagall's orders because he wanted to see why she had missed the meal. That was all. There could be no more.
She sighed. Was that why he had seemed to look her over so carefully, as if he was searching for something? Was he making sure she was well, or was there something more in his eyes that she had been unable to detect? She went back to grading papers, but try as she might, she could not get Severus out of her mind.
Over the next week, Hermione missed dinner nearly every night, but was there for breakfast and lunch. McGonagall accepted her excuse that homework needed grading and there were no complaints from the other staff members. Ginny stopped by the transfiguration classroom sometimes when she had a moment, and she would sit down in the closest student's desk and they would talk for a while. Sometimes Neville and Ginny would both come, and then the three of them would talk for as long as they had. Several times Neville had even skipped dinner to spend some time with Hermione, whether he was helping her with grading papers or going through class supplies or just talking to her. Her talks with her friends cheered her up, but as soon as they were gone her mind would always drift back to Severus. Always.
But that week held more than one surprise for Hermione as well. Severus gave up stopping by to see why she was missing dinner after the first two days, but after that, strange things started happening. Kreacher started to bring Hermione tea and biscuits every evening in her classroom. On the weekend, when she missed breakfast, he would bring a tray of food to her room. He performed other kind services as well, and all without her ordering him to. Eventually she asked him who had put him up to it, and was surprised to find out that it was Severus. She was getting suspicious by the end of the week, with just an inkling that perhaps Severus did care more than he was letting on. Could he be trying to convince her that he didn't care because he didn't want her to care about him, even though he knew she did?
That night Hermione dreamt that she was going through everything with Severus all over again, but she was seeing things from his point of view. She woke up in the middle of the night, sitting up and staring into the darkness. "He cares," she breathed. "He doesn't think himself worthy!"
By Friday evening, small happenings at the meals and whenever she saw Severus had fulfilled her suspicions. She finished grading homework early and made it to the Great Hall before dinner started. Everyone seemed genuinely surprised to see her, as she'd been missing dinner so often before. She smiled as she sat down beside Severus' empty seat. He had fooled her, lied to her, had her convinced, but only for so long. He did care, and simply thought himself unworthy and undeserving of her. She was in fact furious with him for this.
Severus entered the Great Hall. As always, his eyes traveled immediately to the seat beside his own, in the hope that he would find Hermione there. He already knew that she wouldn't be . . . and yet, there, sitting straight and smiling down at her students, was the very young woman he had expected to be holed up in her classroom or her bedroom and skipping the meal. Her presence at dinner was a pleasant surprise for Severus, but at the same time he knew how much it would kill him to be so close to her throughout the meal, while still so very far away. He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye and noticed that her smile was in fact genuine and the light was back in her eyes. The dread that had been growing within him seemed to envelope him; so this was it, today was the day she had at last let him go and moved on. He had wanted this, for her, but had also waited in dismay for it to happen.
Hermione saw the figure dressed in all black and watched his approach. She forced herself to turn back to her smiling, sometimes even waving, student, and smiled back at them. When she tried to find Severus in the many faces of the Great Hall once more, though, he had gone. Then he was taking his seat beside her. "Good evening, Severus," she said, her tone of voice both sweet and brittle; she was overjoyed and very upset with him at her discovery of the truth.
He turned and gazed at her for a long moment, and his eyes turned the darkest brown she'd seen yet, and were filled with longing and sorrow. Then they were back to being cold and black, and he said, "Good evening."
If he thought she never noticed how he avoided using her name, he was mistaken. The only time he'd called her Hermione was just before he'd said the words that broke her heart and made her miserable. Now, however, she brushed off his lack of personal talk and went back to smiling at her students. She did not expect him to speak or push the conversation farther, but he asked, "And to what do we owe your presence at dinner this evening?"
Hermione turned back to him. As she did, she noticed two girls at the Gryffindor table below pointing to her and Severus and whispering among themselves, giggling over something. Hermione smiled as she watched them from the corner of her eye for a few seconds before looking at Severus. "I haven't felt too well the past several weeks and now it has passed," she said, eyeing him to gauge his reaction.
He nodded and turned back to his food, muttering, "and that fact pains me greatly," under his breath. His words were for his own ears and no one else's, but Hermione heard. She pretended not to and feigned interest in what Neville was saying as he sat down on her other side.
After the meal Hermione waited until the students were leaving. It was after they'd mostly left that the majority of the staff would go to the dungeons. She walked with the group, keeping a careful eye on Severus, lest he slip away. She got what she wished for, because while the rest of the staff entered the teachers' lounge through the secret passage, Severus continued along the corridor and turned the corner. Hermione knew he was going to his office or his classroom, and she guessed that he would be there for a while. Smiling to herself, she went to her rooms and glanced in the mirror. She didn't seem so horrid-looking as she had the day he'd pushed her away. In fact, now she was rather pleased with her appearance. Nodding to herself, she put her wand back in her robes and left her rooms.
The teachers' lounge was empty yet again, or so she thought at first glance; Flitwick was in the corner at the desk, pouring over some ancient text on charms. He didn't look up when she walked by or left. She walked the corridor as Severus had not too long before, and turned the corner, walking along the hall until she reached the wooden door there. It was half open as it had been the last time she'd come uninvited. She peered around it, making sure that Severus was alone in his classroom, and walked in, closing the door quietly behind her; this was not a conversation she wished anyone to overhear.
Severus had his back to her when she entered, but he had seen her reflection in the many jars and flasks of potions and magical items preserved in multicolored goo. "Yes?" he asked, much with the same bored tone of voice she had used to greet him days before in her own classroom.
Hermione was silent. This was it, she was going to have to be bold if she wanted to get her point across, and if she wanted to properly convey the message she had.
Severus turned and glared at her. "What is it, Miss Granger?"
She held her head high and met his gaze, not lowering her eyes. "I could ask you the same, Professor Snape."
He scowled. "I thought I told you to call me Severus."
"I thought I told you to call me Hermione."
The crease between his brows deepened. "What do you want, Hermione?" he sneered.
Hermione felt a smile tugging at her lips. No matter how unkindly he'd just said it, the sound of him saying her name was enough to give her the courage to go on. "You lied to me," she said simply.
He narrowed his eyes. "I did no such thing."
Hermione laughed humorlessly. "You're lying right now."
He growled, but said nothing.
Hermione would have been terrified if she was a student, but, she reminded herself, now she was a teacher. She was his colleague. She was the one he cared about. "You lied," she said again, and for the first time a bit of emotion crept into her voice. She could feel her grip on her emotions slipping away; her idea of coming and yelling at him was melting into the desire to simply throw herself, sobbing, into his arms.
"What, pray do tell, did I lie about?" he asked, his voice cold.
"You"—she realized that he'd never actually said he didn't care, only made it obvious with his actions—"you made it apparent that you care about my general wellbeing, but were clear that there was nothing more."
Severus watched her carefully. She was getting emotional and her strength was ebbing away. "And you think that I don't care about your general wellbeing?" he asked, ignoring the second part of what she'd said.
She smirked at him, and he was shocked. She was smirking? Now? He was suddenly very afraid that something was wrong. "No." Her voice rang out, still strong and clear. But then it fell to being quiet and she said softly, "But I know that you care . . . about me . . . more than that."
Severus was panicking. She knew? How could she know? He had to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. It was the only way. "Do I?" he asked, his voice still cold.
"Yes, you do," she said calmly. Then, looking rather upset, she added, "and you can stop playing around and just admit it because I know! I know that you care! I know it!"
He stared at her.
She went on without waiting for him to say anything. "And I know that you lied to me, made me think that you didn't care, not because you wanted to hurt me, but because you wanted to protect me. You don't think yourself worthy of me. You want me to grow up, and find someone my own age, and have a family, and have some wonderful life that doesn't involve you."
He was still staring at her, but his eyes weren't cold any longer. She was right, of course. Though how she knew . . .
Her voice broke and she blinked back tears, taking several shaky steps towards him. She looked up into his face, tears filling her eyes as she spoke. "But I also know," she said softly, her voice cracking with emotion, "that I could never have any of that with anyone . . . but you."
He stood, trembling now, wanting so badly to close the space between them and hold her while she cried, but he could not. No, he reminded himself. He had to let her go. It was for her own good. He had to hurt her. She was weak now, she was vulnerable. The right words said and she would flee from him. It would hurt her, she would be in emotional pain for a while, but she would make it through. And she would be better off without him. "Get out," he said, his voice cold and cruel.
"No." Her lower lip trembled, tears were brimming in her eyes, and her voice shook, but she stood straight and looked him in the eye when she said it.
"Out, Granger," he said sharply. When she stayed where she was he moved quickly, closer, until their faces were very close. He spoke very slowly and with as much malice as he could put into his voice. "I do not care about you. I do not love you." Then he said brusquely, "Now get out of my classroom, you foolish, foolish little girl."
More tears filled her eyes, and spilled over her cheeks. Her lip trembled. She put her hand on the desk beside her and leaned on it for support. "N- no," she whispered, but her voice quavered and she looked pleadingly up at him.
"Out," he said coldly.
She bit her lip and shook her head. She couldn't have been wrong, could she?
Seeing how unsteady she was on her feet, he forced his face into a scowl and grabbed her shoulder roughly, steering her towards the door. He gave her a gentle push and she stumbled into the hall. She mouthed his name, tried to speak, but no words would come. He stepped out the door and closed it loudly behind him. Then he turned, making sure that she saw him roll his eyes before he walked towards the teachers' lounge, strutting away from her just as he had so often strutted away from Potter after being especially cruel to the boy.
Hermione watched him go. He didn't look back. His cloak billowed behind him and his shoulder-length raven black hair reflected the little light in the hall. Then he turned the corner and was gone. Hermione stumbled backward until her back hit the stone wall. She slid down it until her knees were pulled up to her chest and she was on the cold floor. He didn't care, couldn't care, wouldn't care. She bit her lip, wrapping her arms around her knees and setting her forehead on them, rocking back and forth. Silent sobs shook her frame, hot, angry, painful tears poured down her cheeks, and she tried to curl into as tight a ball as was possible.
Severus walked through the lounge, not even glancing sideways at Flitwick, who had been entering his room and looked up when he walked in. As soon as he was through his door and it was closed behind him he leaned against it and sank to the ground much as Hermione had, though he didn't pull his knees up to his chest. He ran his hands over his face and pulled at his hair. How he hated himself. The look in her eyes when he'd said what he did and rolled his eyes at her. He had known enough that it would be unwise to look back as he walked away, but it had been very hard to look straight ahead. At the same time, he had not wanted to see her face, and the pain that he himself had etched into it, again.
For the first time since Lily's death, Severus cried. Hot tears pooled in his eyes and ran over, sliding down his cheeks. He leaned against the door and covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking, chest heaving, as the liquid ran down his face.
He felt so helpless. Helpless to make her his, helpless to comfort her, helpless to change the way he felt. But worse than his feeling of helplessness was the knowledge that Hermione would not move on and let him go. It was best for her to be away from him, without him, in her life. She was the brightest witch of her age and had a beautiful life ahead of her. Even if she didn't let him go, perhaps she would be able to still have that wonderful life without love. Severus was sure of only one thing; Hermione Granger would be better off without him in her life.
He was old. His hair was long, greasy, and unkempt. He was a criminal, who would possibly go to Azkaban if the Wizengamot tried him and found him guilty. He did not know how to treat her; she was the first person he'd ever kissed, and he had no experience anywhere else with such matters. He did not know what to do with someone who cared about him. He could not offer her a happy home; Spinner's End was hardly a cheery setting to bring a wife home to. He could not offer her a good life; his job at Hogwarts and making potions for Saint Mungo's and other apothecaries paid him little, and it was only enough for him to live on. He could not give her a family; he was able to father children, but he rather hated kids.
Severus stood and changed, collapsing on his bed and wondering if Hermione had left the hall yet. Even if someone did find her there, he was not worried; she would make up a believable reason for her to be there. She was, after all, the brightest witch of her age.
Hermione sat, curled up on the cold, hard stone floor, for a very long time. She finally straightened, rising on unsteady legs, and walking back to the teachers' lounge. Flitwick had gone to bed and the lounge was empty, for which she was thankful. She entered her rooms and changed into her pajamas, flicking her wand to turn out the lights and setting it on the bedside table. Then she crumpled onto her bed and pulled the blankets over her head. She wanted to block out the world, to forget the terrible things it had done to her. Curling up into a ball once more, she cried into her pillow until she fell asleep.
She didn't leave her room for the next two days, but there was no need; Saturday and Sunday were the weekend. No one knocked on the door; they all assumed she was just tired from her week of teaching and needed some rest. Kreacher came at mealtimes with small bowls of steaming broth, as if he knew she wouldn't eat anything else because she didn't want to do anything. He brought her tea between mealtimes and would fetch whatever book from the shelves that she asked for. And then he would sit on the end of her bed and watch her, looking unhappy. Hermione didn't notice, but the house elf actually seemed concerned for her wellbeing. This was something new for Kreacher. He fingered the locket that hung on a gold chain around his neck, the locket that had belonged to his original master, Regulus Black.
But Hermione noticed little about the house elf, not even fully registering that he stayed with her throughout the day, leaving only to fetch her food or tea, and even then he was back in a moment. His being there only made her unhappy, though she wasn't in the least displeased with him; she knew who had sent him to care for her. Curled up in bed, not wanting Monday and classes to come, she glared at the open book she was trying to read, not seeing any of the words on it. She had decided something very important since Kreacher had begun coming to care for her; she hated Severus Tobias Snape with every fiber in her being. He was taunting her now, pretending to care by sending Kreacher when he had flat out told her that he didn't.
She could never stop herself from loving him, she knew. But she could hate him at the same time as love him. And now she was loving him against her will. Though she refused to accept it, deep down she knew that as she hated Severus with every fiber in her being, so she loved him. She would always be drawn to him, always want to be near him and with him, always desire his love in return, but she would never accept it. And she would always hate him for making her this way. Always.
Sorry this one is so short, but I've already started working on the next and it should be up soon. I find myself getting unhappy and emotional as I write these, and while I want to write them well enough that you do too, I also am hating myself because of this part of the story! Thank you all for sticking with the story so far and I promise, there are many more chapters to come and things will get better . . .eventually . . .
On that happy note, I'll say thank you to all who have reviewed, it is very much appreciated! Please remember that every single review I recieve makes me a better writer because I'm getting what you think, so if you have time, leave a note on how you liked the story (or perhaps even in this case, how you hated it)! Lots of love! ~Taelr