Chapter 7: Soaring Hearts
Author's Note:
Disclaimer: Not a British woman whose name is J.K. Rowling therefore all the HP stuff belongs to her.
The party was fantastic; won gambling and it looks like I didn't get food poisoning. Yesterday well, early morning of today, I was told that university and high school students are returning back to school so I assumed that at least one of my readers had to be a student. If you are one, I dedicate this long 'lesson' to you! Good luck to your year of studies. Thanks to all the readers, for all of your reviews and follows. It really does brighten my mood.
He had no issue with lack of sleep and rest. Since he was a boy, he went through many nights and days without sleep. The constant screaming at his home never stopped. He'd grown accustomed not to sleeping for a long period of time. His years as a Death Eater also helped him. Honestly he preferred this state because it kept him on edge and alert. But what he couldn't deal with were two love struck Hufflepuffs blowing up his classroom. He smacked the boy's head as hard as he could and terrified the girl until she was pale as Bloody Baron and shook in fear. He ripped 40 points off Hufflepuff and forced them to clean his class without magic. They better do a proper job and if they didn't match his standards, oh they'd regret it. He despised his surroundings being filthy and unorganized.
He would hate this day except he would be watching an infuriated, failing Granger. That would definitely make his day better. He went to his room to change into more comfortable clothing. He hung his cloak and wore a navy blue sweater with his black jeans; the weather was getting chillier each day. The clothing hugged him gently around his form. He glanced outside his window; there she was, sitting by his tree reading. It may have been the sunlight that made her look like she was glowing. It was a peaceful picture to look at. He decided that the young Gryffindor wouldn't mind waiting for him a bit longer.
He walked into the staff lounge where he grabbed a cup of black tea. Minerva called after him, "Are you going somewhere Severus?" He wasn't in the mood to discuss anything with Minerva. He escaped to where Granger was busily reading. The corner of his mouth twitched into an awkward, oppressed smile. He didn't want to smile or laugh around her. It quickly faded before the girl withdrew her attention from her noel. She offered him a pleasant smile along with a sigh of relief, "I was so worried that you wouldn't show up." Snape took a sip of tea as she abandoned her book onto the ground. His eyebrows rose slightly at her comment.
She blackmailed me to show up and challenged him bravely. How could I not show up?
His voice was coated in sarcasm, "Oh, I wouldn't miss this day for anything in the world. I was thrilled by the very thought of meeting you on my free time." He gave her a slight bow with his head. The silly girl was so easy to tease; she was looking at the ground with flushed cheeks. He rolled his eyes. She slowly approached him with a broom in her hand. With a click of his tongue, he shoved the broom to the ground. She gave him a confused look.
"You are starting from the beginning. Let me evaluate how horrid you are," he taunted her. He smirked behind his cup as he tasted the black tea as he heard her groan.
Hermione stood next to the broom and stuck her arm out.
"Up," she pleaded. She peeked at her professor who was organizing a pile of leaves with his foot. This was embarrassing to be failing in front of him. "Up," she continued with her unsuccessful attempts. She heard him click his tongue with made her cringe. How terrible has she been for the last 15 minutes? Professor Snape answered her silent question, "Ms. Granger, I would grow to like Mr. Potter before you get that broom to obey your command." This was humiliating and she had to swallow her pride to ask Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin, to tutor her in the arts of flying. She desperately needed someone to coach her but she didn't know who to ask except this man. When she saw him fly down from the tree, she knew he was more than capable to teach her. He was already a professor and he was far better than any other witch or wizard in flying from what she witnessed. It was a daring move to make him teach her but she took the risk to do so. She wouldn't back out of this lesson now; she absolutely refused to give up.
"Could you possibly advise me on how to make than happen rather than gawking at me," she was aware that she was pressing his buttons again; his glare told her so.
"Think of someone extremely irritating. Didn't you tell me that Mr. Weasley aggravated you with his constant boastings?" That was true, these days Ron was really testing her patience.
"Have you ever told him to shut up yet?" he questioned her.
"Yes," she admitted. She remembered when she shouted at Ronald to shut up when he endlessly 'advised' how to fly when in the end all he was doing was showing off like a peacock. She had enough when he kept babbling his mouth away when she was trying to study in the library.
"Use the tone when you ordered him to shut up," he instructed. She cocked her head, "Does that make any difference?"
"Did you try horse-back riding before you dumb girl?" he asked as he placed his cup down. Her aunt took her horse-back riding twice so she had to not at his question. Did professor Snape know how to ride? She was more interested in that.
"Horses and brooms are alike. They know when you are nervous or excited. Use a firm, authoritative voice. You are a Gryffindor; this should be instinctive for you." What her professor was saying was insulting for Gryffindors. Not all of them were snobby and arrogant as he assumed they were. She was about to argue with him but his next action was intriguing. "If you get good enough you'll be able to do this," he extending his arm out and the broom automatically gravitated to his open palm. Her eyes widened, that was amazing. She wanted to achieve what he just did.
She thrust her arm forward with new found confidence and ordered, "Up!" The broom did what it was told. Merlin's beard, she finally made the bloody piece of stick to listen to her. She was so damn happy that she ran and almost hugged him. She was abruptly stopped at an arm length by the powerful grip of her professor's hand. His expression immediately went from soft and relaxed to rigid as his onyx eyes flashed.
He hissed, "You daft child, that's only the fundamental. If you dare to try to hug me, I'll make your worse fear come true, you silly girl."
"Forgive me, professor," she meant it. She was more than aware the he had the power to expel her one way or another. He crossed his arms and sent her cold, steely glares. She wished the relaxed atmosphere to return and for professor Snape's face to relax just as much.
She returned to the topic of flying, "You were correct about being more demanding and confident." His lip remained to be a thin line. "Did you help anyone else with flying because your teaching in this subject is just as good as your potion lesson," she asked him curiously. This question made his eyes change for the second time; this time they carried a tinge of sadness.
"Yes, there was another student," he wasn't giving her cold looks anymore; he wasn't looking at her at all. She heard her inhale a great amount of air through his crooked nose. She felt her chest prick and ache. What was this feeling? It didn't please her to know that there was another student like her. Was this jealousy? Wait. Did she like her potion professor? If she did, it wouldn't be her fault; at first she was irritated and scared of her professor but as she met him more out of class, she learned that his words were coarse and harsh but he could be funny and to some degree, nice. He had weird, lop-sided smile but she like it and she truthfully find him charming in a strange way.
"Ms. Granger, you told me that your exam was approaching and I even showed up today. I don't know what you think of me," she was thinking that she might like this man, "but I haven't got all my time to teach you how to fly. Mount on the broom and kick off gently," he ordered.
She climbed onto the broom and gave a tiny hop. The creases between his eyebrows deepened. "Do it properly or I'll kick the damn broom to make you fly, Ms. Granger," he growled darkly. She was growing tired of his attitude so she stuck her tongue out. She noticed his eye twitch for a moment. She regretted her action as he quickly stormed up to the broom and kicked her toward the heavens. She screamed as the broom escalated. Good God, kill her now; she hated not having the ground firmly beneath her. Furthermore she was terrified of heights. She clung fiercely onto the broom, refusing to move a muscle.
"Granger, sit up," came a loud voice from the ground. She snuck a peek at the man who was looking up at her; humour returned to his eyes. She was terrified and the knowledge that she reached a height greater than the tree didn't soothe her nerves at all. It did the exact opposite, she felt like crying. There was no bloody way she'd be jumping down this time. "Tell me how to get down," she cried. "Lightly lean forward and try to land on this pile of leaves," he was pointing at the pile he created. He was bloody kidding right? If she failed now and tumbled downward, no fucking pile of leaves would save her from breaking her neck and splitting he head open. Yet her only choice was to trust Professor Snape so she pressed her weight forward.
Ooops, a stupid, fatal mistake. Her speed was accelerating and she turned stiff from fear; she couldn't even scream for her life.
"Fucking, stupid, talentless girl," he whispered. He had no time to grasp his wand and cast a spell to stop her. Shit, the damn brat changed her course of direction, towards him. At her last chance, she launched herself off the broom and crashed into Snape. He felt the dull pain behind his head and grunted at the impact. A new pain shot up between his groins. He began to swear between his ragged breaths. The stabbing sensation wasn't fading. He could tolerate the pain, it was less agonizing compared to crutio, but hell, this would be the next painful thing to crutio. Was he pissed? Fuck, yes; currently he could take all the points from the Gryffindor House this instant but he'd still be pissed. He stiffly got up and picked the girl by her collars.
He might have done something regrettable if it weren't for the warm droplets that darkened his sleeve. She was crying; he could never digest watching any women cry but this was far worse. Why couldn't he bear or deny the pain from his chest when he watched this young witch cry? He regretted everything and his anger vanished. He released her and she held him tightly. He realized that he hasn't dealt with women in the long time and that he went too far. He handled Granger too roughly for a young girl, heck; his behaviour couldn't be excused for any women. He had treated Granger just like his filthy, muggle father treated his mother. He felt shame burn throughout his body. He needed her to stop crying. He ran his fingers through her thick, smooth hair and rocked her gently on the ground. He never caressed a living girl like this; he found this soothing as his mind went blank. He didn't know how much time had passed but just for this moment, he wished it would pause. All he knew was that he didn't want to let go of this girl and that from this day forth, he'd most likely be there for her.