Severus was convinced that Granger had a death wish. A week had passed since she first arrived and the girl had insisted on greeting him at every opportunity. At least Longbottom had the decency to ignore him, or to look fearful when their paths crossed. Granger continued to smile at him, to enquire about his day and to make small talk on the rare occasions when he stilled himself long enough in her presence. He wondered what her endgame was, she must want something of him. He prided himself on his well crafted unapproachable persona, yet the witch kept scratching the surface, trying to engage.
His clearly dismissive attitude toward her seemed to have no effect. Every day, without fail she attempted a dialogue with him. Obviously his stock of headache potions would need to be rethought if she kept this up. Not even during his time as a student had anyone gone to such lengths to converse with him and that's exactly how he liked it.
Finishing his morning ritual in his private quarters, gripping his bathroom sink with both hands he glanced into the mirror at his scowling reflection. There was nothing there to attract the attention of a young witch or anyone for that matter, nothing in his features screamed 'let's chat'. He wondered if he could slip into her thoughts without her knowledge, just to discover the purpose of her constant attempt at conversation.
Rising to his full height Severus looked away from his less-than-appealing reflection and let out a heavy sigh. Reading her thoughts seemed pointless, the witch always wore her emotions plainly on her face and that smile, those wide, sincere eyes suggested nothing malicious. The girl exuded kindness and friendship. Though she did show signs of a temper he thought. Perhaps he could niggle away until she finally snapped and left him be.
Severus swept from his private chambers, the Hospital Wing in his sights. With two weeks left until the remaining staff arrived and three weeks until the students did, he would commence brewing the necessary potions for Madam Pomfrey's storage. He was certain he would succeed in pushing Granger away. With the exception of Minerva and Albus, nobody tolerated his icy exterior for longer than necessary. He would just need to discover what made her tick. He recalled one incident in her fourth year which had brought the girl to tears. The irony of him commenting on another person's appearance clearly lost on the crowd that day.
Scowling at nothing in particular Severus willed away thoughts of Granger and her pestering. A nice long, solitary brewing session would take his mind off the irksome witch. The halls were deserted and quiet, this was his favourite time in the castle, the run up to a new school year, before the halls were teeming with activity. The public and his colleagues had often wondered why he chose to return to teaching, which they assumed he despised. The truth was that he didn't, he just had a low tolerance for incompetence.
Approaching the Hospital Wing his heart sank. There she was, standing outside the Hospital doors clearly waiting for his arrival. Granger was leaning against the adjacent wall, book in hand. Her ridiculous hair was secured back from her face again. Today she wore Muggle clothing, simple blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt that didn't quite meet the waist of her jeans. Completely inappropriate attire for an educator. As if she could sense his eyes on her she looked up and smiled at him, smiled.
"Hello professor, you mentioned you would be brewing supplies for the new school term and I thought, perhaps you might like some assistance?" She had clearly rehearsed this greeting.
"I neither need, nor want your assistance Miss Granger," he made sure to stress the point, hoping it resembled a personal attack on her abilities.
Granger closed her book and gave him that same little breathy laugh she usually did when he attempted to shake her off. Her smile turned mischievous, like they were playing a game he wasn't aware of. Her narrowed gaze tracked over him, in assessment, of what he didn't know.
"Well, I doubt you need my assistance, but if it's all the same to you, I'd still like to help," her eyes dropped to the book she was holding. Some advanced tome on charmed potions.
He did not respond, simply opened the doors with a non-verbal spell and nodded for her to proceed. Her eyes light up, the smile she offered him was nothing short of ecstatic. Merlin save him.
Hermione knew she was pushing her luck today, accosting him like this and forcing her presence on him for more than a short conversation in passing. When he nodded for her to enter the Hospital Wing her stomach swooped with excitement.
Was it working? Was her hard work this week finally paying off? She walked through the double doors and waited just inside for him to come through.
Suddenly she felt nervous, not at the thought of brewing or being alone with Snape but that his attitude could change at any second and he would dismiss her. This last week she had started to enjoy his dry wit and biting comments. The confused look that crossed his face whenever she laughed at him was delightful. She found herself wanting to spend more time with him, to unravel the mystery of Severus Snape.
The Potion's Master walked past her, heading for the store rooms at the end of the wing. She followed, feeling vaguely like an obedient dog. She quickened her pace to fall in step with him. She didn't dare speak just yet. Hermione stole a quick glance at Snape, he looked straight ahead, determined. She was itching to probe him with questions and small talk, but knowing how touchy he could be she held her tongue.
When they reached the end of the ward Snape began the process of removing some complicated wards and pushed through the door, not holding it open or waiting for her, she wouldn't have expected it of him. The room was snug, a long counter to one side covered with several different cauldrons varying in size and material above which hung some dried herbs. The opposite wall was filled with vials of various potions and jars of ingredients.
"Well. Are you here to work or not?" Snape snapped in a voice reminiscent Potions class. Hermione turned to face him. He was looking down his nose at her, his face filled with contempt. She felt her heart rate increase, was he aware of how intimidating he could be? She wondered.
"What would you like me to assist with?" She didn't know how to address him.
He placed a copy of Magical Drafts and Potions on the counter in front of a standard sized, pewter cauldron. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. Instead she would play the game his way, for now. Stepping in front of the cauldron, the book opened itself in front of her on the page indicating a recipe for The Cure for Boils. Her first ever potion from year one.
"I know how dependent on textbooks you are," his voice was acidic. "Get to it."
Tamping down the anger boiling in her she turned to the shelves and gathered her ingredients. Adding six snake fangs to a mortar she took her frustration out on them with her pestle. Even the equipment she was using was juvenile, she owned better items in her personal possessions for Merlin's sake. Clearly he was attempting to dissuade her from attempting to help him again. She wouldn't play into his his hands, not that easily. In silence the two worked in the small space, carefully keeping to their own end of the counter. Hermione knew she would struggle to keep her temper in check if she opened her mouth just yet.
With both cauldrons bubbling merrily the room became stifling in no time. Hermione wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. Movement from his side of the counter drew her attention. He was removing his heavy black teaching robes, it felt too intimate but she couldn't look away. Shrugging off the material he draped it over a chair to his left and then looked at her. She quickly averted her eyes and blushed, embarrassed to get caught staring. Seeing him in just his shirt and trousers made him seem more human somehow.
The atmosphere was strained, palpable. His mastery might have been in Potions but his real talent was in making others uncomfortable she thought.
"Acceptable," his bored voice came from over her left shoulder. This time her eyes did roll. The first batch was perfect, she knew he would never acknowledge it though.
"Would you like another batch? Or perhaps something else?" She congratulated herself on her self control, this was not something she was adept at, unlike potions.
His sigh was heavy. The book she had forgotten about flicked through pages of its own accord in front of her, landing on Pepper-Up Potion, she almost smirked at being promoted from a first to a fourth year recipe. Without further discussion she gathered the new items required and began the process of preparing and brewing her new assignment.
"Have you always brewed for Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione cringed at her first feeble attempt conversing with him.
He remained silent so long she thought he may not have heard her until he let out a long suffering sigh.
"Obviously," he drawled.
She couldn't help but laugh at his painfully transparent attempts of dismissal. Every time they had spoken in the last week he had tried to hurt her feelings just subtly enough to disparage her attention. Then she would laugh and he would frown in confusion. It was obvious to Hermione that he was used to this approach taking immediate effect on its target. She however, had maintained friendships through Harry's violent mood swings and the loss of a romantic connection with Ronald. Snape would need to up his game.
"What, pray tell is so funny Miss Granger?" She hated when he called her that.
"You can call me Hermione if you like." The words fell from her mouth and her face flamed. Keeping her eyes trained on her cauldron she willed the heat from her cheeks to subside.
He didn't respond but she could feel his eyes boring into the side of her skull, she didn't dare look at him. Knowing how adept he was at Legilimency and non-verbal magic. Would she even feel his presence in her mind if he chose to enter? What would he seek out in her thoughts? She held no ill will toward him, even when the boys had insulted him in their school-days she had tried to defend him. Hermione had always admired his intellect, his bravery and his determination.
"I am not your friend Miss Granger," anger infused his tone. "Whatever address you insist on from Longbottom or the wolf, is not what you should expect of me." He spat his words like venom. "Leave the potion and go."
"B-but.. I-," she stammered, her head spinning from his quick mood swing.
"Go!" He bellowed, face contorted with anger and disgust.
Heat rose once again, but not with embarrassment or shame. Boiling hot rage flowed through her veins. How dare he speak to her like some errant student. Slamming down the stirring rod she marched to the door pulled it open and walked out without looking back.
The corridors passed in a blur of unshed tears as Hermione quickly made her way to her chambers, there and only there would she allow her frustrations loose.
"Hermione?" She froze at the familiar voice.
"Are you ok?" Remus asked gently.
Tears started to flow without consulting her. She threw her arms around Lupin's neck once he was within reaching distance and held him tightly, trying her best to stop crying, a lost cause. Feeling like a scolded student only made her cry harder.
"Let's go back to your quarters and have a cup of tea shall we?" Remus said soothingly while patting her back awkwardly. Nodding against his shoulder she loosened her death grip on him. Wiping her tears away with her sleeve she allowed him to lead the way.