A/N: I would like to thank everyone who has followed and favorited this story so far. Also, thanks to Maria221B, SeraphinaAngel, and OTESlife for their reviews. In this chapter, we have a little insight into how Severus is feeling. Please let me know what you think.
After the door closed behind Ms. Granger, Severus Snape angrily rose from his desk and made his way to his personal rooms. Once inside, he sank into his leather armchair in a state of agitation. Unsure of how to proceed, he grappled with the fact that he didn't want the young witch to harbor any feelings for him. The word "care" echoed in his mind, and he sneered at the thought. How could she care for me? I certainly didn't give her any reason to. She's insufferable. Grabbing his glass from the table, he summoned a house elf and demanded fire whiskey. As the drink was brought to him, he swiftly poured himself a glass, relishing the burning sensation that filled his stomach. He sat contemplating what he could do to stop this mess. The thought of enduring an entire school year with her persistent gaze was unbearable. He had to do something quick.
After consuming two glasses, he reclined in his chair and opted for a different course of action. Rising from his seat, he approached the Floo network within his room. Tossing floo powder into the flames, he awaited the green hue. As soon as it appeared, he bellowed through the floo, "Minerva, I need to speak with you at once." Granted permission to enter, he grabbed another handful of floo powder and transported himself to the Headmistress Tower. Seated in her office, a frown etched across his lips, he prepared to discuss urgent matters with Professor McGonagall.
"Good evening, Severus. What's got you so worked up this evening?" Minerva inquired. "Has a first-year managed to explode a potion already?"
He scoffed at her question. "No, Minerva. I am here to discuss the removal of Ms. Granger from my class," he grumbled menacingly, observing the older witch trade her smile for a frown.
"Severus, what could she have done to provoke such a reaction from you? It can't be her academic performance; she's an excellent student. So, tell me, why should I even entertain the idea of removing her?" Minerva was surprised by his request.
Anticipating the difficulty of the conversation, he chose his words with precision. "Minerva, she's insufferable! Disrespectful, disobedient, and insolent," he growled. As anger surged, he felt his heart rate quicken, struggling to maintain composure. His intense black gaze met Minerva's doubtful expression. With a shuddering sigh, he cast his eyes toward the ceiling and muttered incomprehensibly, "She cares for me."
"Can you repeat that? I didn't hear you," Minerva chided softly.
His anger bubbled over. "The witch cares for me, and I don't want her to," he spat. "I have done nothing to encourage her, yet she continues to care for me and feel sorry for me. I don't want her pity." Anger emanated from him in waves. He couldn't stay rooted in the chair any longer and began to pace, his hands gripped behind his back as he paced the stone floor beneath him.
How can that insolent little girl care for someone like me? I deserved to die in that Shack that night. How can I get her to despise the person I am? Lost in contemplation, pacing back and forth, his focus snapped back to Minerva when he heard her laughter. His eyes narrowed, displeased that she found the situation amusing.
Minerva shook her head with amusement. "Severus, you can't change how she feels for you. Besides, is it really that bad to allow someone to see you differently?"
He clenched his fists in rage at her words. I have spent so many years portraying the man I want everyone to see me as, yet this little chit walks in and changes everything. A feeling of hopelessness surged forward. "Is that it then? Do I just carry on with her sorrowful glances?" He cringed at the image of Ms. Granger's adoring glances, teary eyes, and a pout on her lips. No that will not do at all.
Minerva phrased her words carefully, not wanting to upset the dour man. "Severus, I don't think you realize how much the war affected her." Observing the dark look in his eyes, she quickly continued speaking. "I want you for once to put yourself into someone else's shoes." She took a deep breath. She didn't like having to disclose Hermione's personal life, but she did not see any other way to get through to him.
His teeth ground in anger at her words. I too have suffered from the war. Why should I care what that insufferable know-it-all has gone through? Annoyed, he returned to the chair anyway and crossed his arms with resentment. "Go on."
"Hermione has tried for years to be the best witch that she could be. Right out of the gate, she wanted to prove herself to anyone who doubted her. I know you think she's insufferable and annoying."
"Because she is," Severus grumbled. "Please get to the point already."
Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Minerva said, "She has wanted your recognition for years, Severus. When she saw you dying that night, I think it traumatized her." Remembering Harry retelling the story to her she continued with, "Hermione begged Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to allow her to go back and do anything she could to protect you and heal you, but they refused. Mr. Potter disclosed to me that she cried for weeks thinking she had failed. Despite her best efforts to suppress her feelings for you, I believe she still cares deeply. You have to understand that she may not express it in the way you desire, but it comes from a place of genuine concern and gratitude. You played a significant role in the war, and her emotions are a testament to the impact you had on her life." She sat with bated breath, hoping that her words would sink in.
Severus Snape sat in silence, absorbing Minerva's words. The revelation seemed to stir something within him, a mix of emotions that he was not entirely ready to confront. The feeling of anger he felt deflated like a balloon. "So, I am stuck with her then until she leaves?" He shut his eyes, attempting to come to terms with the unexpected situation he found himself in. The longer he wrestled with these thoughts, the more uneasy he became. Disliking the unfamiliar emotions swirling within, he stood up and headed for the floo. The conversation with Minerva was over. If she wasn't going to assist him, he would need to manage it on his own.
The next day arrived, and Severus Snape sat at the Head Table with a malevolent glint in his eyes. He spent countless hours last night contemplating what to do. The soft side of him wanted to allow the young witch to care for him, but his self-loathing would not allow it. After careful consideration, he was determined to make the rest of Hermione's year miserable so she would stop caring for him. He observed the young witch sitting at the Gryffindor Table, her head lowered as she busily spread jam on her toast. Observing her closely, he raised his cup of tea and took a sip. Annoyed by the length of time it took her to look up from her plate, he tightened his grip on his wand, muttering a spell under his breath as he waited for her to lift her gaze from the plate.
Hermione bit into her jam-covered toast. As she ate, a subtle tingling sensation pricked at the back of her neck. She set down her toast and swiftly turned her head, locking eyes with Professor Snape, a faint frown forming on her lips. As her gaze locked with Severus' intense stare, she witnessed his lips silently forming the word "Legilimens."
He swiftly delved into her memories, searching for the specific one that Minerva had mentioned the previous night. Once he located it, he permitted himself to witness the entire memory, knowing the young witch was unable to break free. He witnessed the gradual materialization of the Shrieking Shack within the confines of the memory. The shack bore the weight of years of abandonment, evident in its dilapidated state with crumbling walls and neglect. A thick layer of dust coated the floor, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling like ghostly drapes. Shattered windows permitted only feeble rays of light to penetrate the gloom. As the memory sharpened its focus, his figure lay motionless in a pool of blood, a stark portrayal of lifelessness.
His gaze shifted from his prone form to Hermione, aligning with Minerva's detailed account. She struggled desperately, beseeching release with tear-streaked cheeks, apologizing profusely for her inability to save him. The heart-wrenching cries of anguish that echoed in the memory revealed her profound distress, unsettling him as he realized the depth of her emotional connection and her desperate pleas for him.
When he withdrew from the memory, he couldn't quite discern his emotions upon seeing the young witch hastily leaving the Great Hall. Staring down at his partially consumed breakfast, he lost his appetite. Sipping the last remnants of his tea, a tinge of regret crept into his thoughts. He understood he shouldn't have given in to the temptation, but the desire to witness her feelings firsthand overcame him. After confirming that she did indeed care for him, he couldn't shake the feeling of remorse, acknowledging that he had been acting like an ass. The agonizing way she cried for him and begged her moronic friends twisted something inside of him. Gritting his teeth with anger, he rose from the table and left the Great Hall with a sense of dissatisfaction. Marching down the corridor toward the dungeons, he pushed aside the unwelcome emotions. With class approaching, there was no room for lingering on unnecessary sentiments.
Entering the classroom with an air of authority, he immediately commenced his instruction for the Seventh-Year students, maintaining a commanding presence. Though engrossed in the lesson, his thoughts wandered elsewhere. Unconsciously drawn, his eyes repeatedly sought out Ms. Granger's table. Despite his efforts to focus on teaching, an inexplicable force seemed to guide him closer to her, akin to the pull of a magnet.
Concluding his reflections, he granted the students permission to commence brewing. As the room filled with the focused hum of activity, he found himself standing just a foot away from Ms. Granger's table, observing her with a careful gaze. Uncertain of what to say or how to proceed, he briefly wrestled with internal thoughts. Quickly regaining composure, he approached the young witch, mindful of his initial intention to make her miserable.
Standing beside her table, he peered into her cauldron, feigning concern as his eyebrow raised slightly. "Ms. Granger, are you certain you have prepared the base of this potion correctly?" His question hung in the air momentarily, and without awaiting her response, he tapped the cauldron with his wand. A low growl accompanied his command, "Try again. Pay close attention this time. 5 points from Gryffindor." With that, he stalked away from her table, leaving her to rectify her potion.
As the class unfolded, Severus found himself grappling with persistent uneasy feelings. Returning to his desk at the front of the room, he immersed himself in parchment and quill, keeping the students at bay. As he scratched away at the parchment, he continued to feel unsettled. Despite the end of the class drawing near, the students hesitated to disturb him.
When the time came to conclude the lesson, Severus instructed the class to bottle their potions and present them to him. The students diligently cleaned their workstations and queued up to offer their concoctions. Hermione, confident in her successful potion, approached with anticipation. Placing her creation on his desk, she anxiously awaited his acknowledgment. However, he remained engrossed in his parchment, never looking up. She waited a few more seconds hoping he would acknowledge it. Disheartened, she left the classroom, feeling a sense of rejection as he ignored her potion.