Chapter 9
As the silence settled around them, their eyes locked, a mixture of disdain and frustration evident in their expressions. Professor Snape turned away from her with a huff, creating distance between them. He approached the fireplace, pulling a small bag of Floo powder from his robes. He tossed a pinch in the flames, but nothing happened.
He cursed, and Hermione rolled her eyes, turning away from him. She made her way to a towering bookshelf, examining the dusty tomes, while Professor Snape paced back and forth across the room, his black robes billowing behind him.
As she examined the shelf, she noticed she was already beginning to feel better, just being in the same room as him. She sighed in frustration. Were they really going to spend the rest of their lives stuck with each other, or otherwise incapacitated?
The lore of the unicorn blood returned to her mind. A half life. A cursed life.
Lost in her thoughts, she muttered to herself, "I'm sure there's a solution to this. A countercharm, perhaps..."
He snapped at her "Miss Granger, your incessant muttering is not helping the situation."
She sent him a glare, "And your dramatic pacing isn't either. We need to put our heads together and figure out how to get out of this bond."
He stopped pacing and glared at her, "Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek."
She huffed in annoyance. How bizarre it was, to be a grown woman and be talked to like a child. To be forced to play the role of a young student. She turned back to the tomes on the shelves. They were mostly medical journals, and some looked as ancient as Merlin himself. She found one labeled, "Wards and Runes," and pulled it from the shelf.
She approached him near the fireplace and selected the armchair closest to her, taking a seat and placing the book in her lap.
"Look," she said, "I'm not thrilled about this any more than you are. But we're stuck here for the night, so let's just get through it."
He nodded in reluctant agreement, and they found themselves awkwardly sharing the same space.
Nearly an hour later, she was engrossed in her book, while he sat stoic, staring blankly at the fireplace. Rain outside began to dance against the windowpane, its rhythmic sound becoming a backdrop to their forced companionship. The flickering fireplace did little to dispel the tension that hung heavy in the air, like a thick fog.
She cleared her throat, and glanced up at him, attempting to break the silence.
"It's not ideal, Professor, but given the circumstances, we will have to find a way to work together on this in the future," Hermione said, her voice attempting to remain steady despite the unease that gnawed at her.
He shot her a withering glare, "I find your incessant need to state the obvious rather trying."
Her jaw clenched, a flicker of annoyance passing over her features before she schooled her expression. "I'm just trying to make the best of a bad situation, and I hope you can find a way to as well. Who knows how long we will have to deal with this, before we can find a cure?"
He turned to face her fully, his lips twisted into a sneer. "Do not presume to lecture me on how to conduct myself, Miss Granger. I am well aware of our predicament."
Hermione's patience wavered, her grip on the book tightening. "I'm not trying to lecture you! This would be much more bearable if we could at least try to get along. It would help if you would stop avoiding me."
He scoffed, his gaze icy. "I think I'm well within my rights to avoid somebody who took it upon herself to disturb my peaceful death by cursing me with unicorn blood."
Hermione's cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and hurt, "I'm sorry," she said softly, "I didn't ask for this either, you know. I just thought I was doing the right thing. And I have my own reservations about being stuck with someone who has never been anything but cruel to me."
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by a distant rumble of thunder, as the rain began a louder assault on the window. His piercing gaze bore into hers, his expression inscrutable.
"You think my actions were motivated solely by cruelty?" His voice was low.
She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing. "What else am I supposed to think? You've never shown me any kindness, in all my years at Hogwarts."
His jaw clenched, his features shifting through a range of emotions before settling into a mask of indifference. "Life is not always black and white, Miss Granger. There are complexities you cannot fathom. I had a role to play in your other timeline, and I played it well."
Hermione shook her head, frustration evident in her eyes. "That may be, but that doesn't excuse how you've treated me now."
Another heavy silence descended, the weight of their words hanging between them. Outside, the storm continued its relentless assault on the castle.
He turned away, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance. "Very well. If it will cease your incessant prattling, I shall attempt to endure this confinement without subjecting you to my 'cruelty'."
Hermione huffed, her fingers gripping the book tightly. "Likewise, Professor."
As the storm raged on, two stubborn souls found themselves reluctantly coexisting in the confined space. Despite their animosity, an unspoken agreement hung in the air – a fragile truce born out of necessity.
Eventually, the fire began to die down, and Hermione could no longer stifle her yawns. She closed the book she had been reading and replaced it on the shelf.
The bed looked welcoming with its plush pillows, though she felt awkward about going to sleep that night. Despite the unpleasant situation, she was too tired to be unwilling. Sure, it was uncomfortable to sleep in a room with a man you barely know, she thought, but she had been through worse. It was only sleep, and if it helped restore their bond—helped her not feel sick and weak all the time—she was willing to try it.
She stole a glance at Professor Snape who looked deep in thought, unreadable. Glancing down at her tailored school uniform, she wished she had pajamas with her.
As if the castle itself heard her thoughts, a door appeared next to the bookshelf. In her periphery, she saw it had caught his attention as well. Curious, she pushed open the door to reveal a simple bathroom, with a single sink, and a small wardrobe where a collection of variously sized Hogwarts-issue pajamas hung neatly.
She smiled, always amazed at how extraordinary magic was, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.
She began by neatly folding the clothes she had worn that day and changed into a set of loose-fitting flannel pajamas. They were a soft and comfortable set that had been charmed to always be the perfect temperature.
She brushed her teeth meticulously and splashed her face with water, refreshing herself from the day's activities. As she dried her face with a towel, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror – a tired but determined expression stared back at her.
She emerged from the bathroom to find Professor Snape was already in bed with his back turned to her, in pajamas he must have conjured. He was seemingly asleep, or at least very still, and the room was completely dark, the storm blocking the moonlight. She mused he probably wouldn't have got in bed with her, so this was the only way.
She tiptoed across the room, and carefully tried to sneak into the bed without disturbing the mattress too much. Her stomach twisted in knots as she slid under the blanket slowly, until she felt she was physically close enough. She laid stiff as a board on her back, trying not to move an inch. She quickly became very uncomfortable, because that was not how she normally slept, and she'd never slept in the same bed as another person. Staring up at the ceiling, she kept trying to shift her hips and make micro adjustments to get comfortable, but her efforts were in vain.
Finally, Professor Snape snapped, "Are you ever going to stop moving around incessantly?"
She retorted, "I was trying not to bother you. I can't sleep on my back—I never have been able to."
"Get comfortable and stop moving," he demanded.
She rolled over to her stomach toward him and bent one knee the way she usually would, but her knee bumped into the back of his leg, and she quickly pulled back as if it burned. She froze in place as if waiting for his retaliation. She tried to get comfortable in the place she had frozen, but soon felt her hips and back demanding she switch positions.
After continuing to wiggle to no avail, finally he gave an exasperated sigh and rolled onto his back with a huff. He snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She made a little surprised sound as her head came to rest on his chest, her body pressed against his side, and her bent knee naturally draped over his leg.
She was tense but didn't protest because she was immediately engulfed in warmth and serenity. She allowed her arm to come to rest across his middle and closed her eyes with a content sigh, as she felt the bond strengthen and her muscles began to relax.
Instantly, a warm, comforting sensation enveloped her, as if she were wrapped in a cocoon of soothing energy. Her mystery ailment—the peculiar affliction that had haunted her ever since she'd been transported back to this time—now known to her as a soul bond, seemed to wane in intensity. It was as if proximity to Professor Snape somehow stabilized the essence of her magical core, mending fractures she didn't even know she had.
Simultaneously, she sensed a similar transformation in him. His breathing, which had been shallow and tinged with an undercurrent of unease, deepened and steadied. A profound calm radiated from him, and she couldn't help but feel that her presence had instigated it.
"Did you feel that?" his voice, now a low whisper, broke the silence, but it was devoid of any earlier abrasiveness.
"Yes," she replied softly, her eyes still closed as she relished the newfound serenity. "It's like a wave of relief. As if some missing puzzle piece has finally clicked into place."
There was a quiet rustle of fabric as he moved his arm lower, cautiously draping it over her waist. She tensed momentarily but didn't pull away. The arm felt heavy but not intrusive—rather like a protective barrier that sealed their newfound symbiosis.
"Inconceivable," he murmured more to himself than to her. "I never thought that something as ludicrous as a 'soul bond' could produce such tangible effects."
"You and me both," she admitted. "But then again, magic has its own logic, doesn't it? There's so much we don't understand."
"Yes, but understanding is the cornerstone of wizardry. It's what separates us from being mere wand-waving buffoons. If something is happening to us, I intend to uncover what it is," he declared, but his tone was milder, more introspective than she had ever heard it.
"Research, you mean," she said, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice despite the oddity of their situation. "You're suggesting we research this... bond."
"Precisely," he agreed. "As intellectually demeaning as it is to admit, we are subjects of an unprecedented magical phenomenon. It warrants study, scrutiny, and perhaps, eventual publication."
She chuckled at that, turning her head slightly to catch a glimpse of his profile in the dim light. "You're saying we could be co-authors? 'Snape and Granger on the Mechanisms of Accidental Soul Bonds'?"
He turned his face back down toward her, and she smelled the peppermint toothpaste on his breath wash over her, "Let's not get carried away," he cautioned, but Hermione could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward. She held his gaze for a moment and felt her heart speed up. She swallowed hard and turned her head back down, nestling against his chest. She was thankful for the darkness to hide her blush as he continued to speak, "First, we need to survive the imminent trials of the Triwizard Tournament, not to mention our upcoming confrontation with Moody."
"True," she sighed, suddenly sobered by the reality that awaited them beyond the safety of this secluded room.
"For now, let's agree to focus on the matter at hand—namely, getting through this night without further incident."
The word 'incident' hung in the air for a moment, laden with unspoken implications. Then he adjusted his arm around her, pulling her ever so slightly closer. Hermione felt herself drawn toward him, like a planet caught in the gravitational field of its sun, and this time, she didn't resist. She nestled her head on his chest, finding comfort in the way he held her.
"For the record," she said softly, "this is the most peculiar night I've ever spent, and that includes various battles, time-travel, and confronting Dark Lords."
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that Hermione felt rather than heard. "Miss Granger, after all we've been through—"
"Call me Hermione," she interrupted, feeling bold. "If we're bound in some cosmic way, sharing a bed, and considering research collaborations, you might as well use my first name."
"Very well, Hermione," he began again, testing her name as if it were a foreign concept. "After what we've been through, and all we have yet to face, I can confidently say that this ranks as one of the strangest experiences of my life as well. And that is saying something."
In the quiet that followed, they both settled into a comfortable stillness. She could no longer tell where her warmth ended and his began. Their magical energies seemed to have entwined so intricately that they were now indistinguishable from one another. A sense of peace washed over her—a peace that she had not felt in a long time.
With that, Hermione allowed her eyes to close fully, her thoughts quieting as she drifted toward sleep. Snape's presence, so intimidating and enigmatic at first, now felt like a sanctuary. Their entangled energies, pulsing in a silent rhythm, lulled her into a state of profound rest.
For the first time since her tumultuous journey back in time, she felt as if things might actually be alright.