A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on that last chapter, especially to StarGzr528, Smithback, OTESLife, cuteyseverus, Melanie, , and Guest. Please let me know what you think of this next chapter.
Hermione lay in her bed, staring up at the canopy above, her mind racing with a mix of emotions that she couldn't seem to sort through. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting long shadows on the walls. She pulled her blankets tighter around herself, seeking comfort in their warmth as she mulled over the events of the evening.
"Am I insane for willingly wanting to be tied to one of the most intimidating men in existence?" she thought, a twinge of anxiety creeping into her mind. It was a question that had been gnawing at her since she left the Headmaster's office. Her rational mind, which had always been her guide, was screaming at her, warning her of the potential dangers and consequences of such a bond. Yet, her heart—a part of her she had always tried to keep separate from her logical self—was whispering something entirely different.
She could still feel the ghost of his lips on her hand, that deceptively simple yet intimate kiss he had planted there. The memory of it sent a wave of heat coursing through her veins, followed by a swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach. How could such a brief touch leave her feeling this way? How could she be so captivated by a man who was known for his coldness, his sharp tongue, and his reputation for being feared by nearly everyone who crossed his path?
Hermione's thoughts drifted back to the moment she sat in his office, the weight of his words settling into her bones: "You are mine, Hermione." The possessiveness in his tone, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming, and yet, it was as if a missing piece of a puzzle had suddenly clicked into place. For years, she had prided herself on her independence, her ability to forge her own path without needing anyone to define her. Yet here she was, feeling an inexplicable pull toward a man who had always been an enigma to her, a man whose complexities seemed endless.
She turned onto her side, hugging her pillow tightly, her mind replaying every detail of their conversation. She had accepted the bond, agreed to explore whatever this connection was between them, but what did that truly mean? Would she be able to handle it? Could she ever fully trust him after everything that had happened in the past?
The fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. But alongside it, there was a yearning—an intense, undeniable desire to see where this path might lead. She was curious about him, about the layers he kept hidden beneath his guarded exterior. She wanted to understand what made him tick, what secrets he held close to his chest, and why he had chosen to let her in, even just a little.
"Am I a fool for this?" she wondered aloud, her voice barely above a whisper in the darkened room. She wasn't sure if she wanted an answer. There was no denying that Severus Snape was an intimidating presence, someone who had terrified her and her peers for years. Yet, in the quiet moments they had shared recently, she had glimpsed something deeper—a side of him that was different from the cold, calculating professor she had always known. There was a softness, a raw honesty in his eyes that had spoken to a part of her that had always sought to understand rather than judge.
Her mind drifted back to the way he had looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a mix of challenge and something else—something that felt almost like longing. She had never imagined that Severus Snape could look at her that way, could speak to her in a tone that held both authority and a strange gentleness. It was a side of him she hadn't expected, and it left her wanting more, craving more of those moments that set her heart racing.
"Perhaps I am insane," she muttered, burying her face into her pillow as a slight smile tugged at her lips despite herself. The thought of being his soulmate, tied to him in a way that went beyond simple magic, was both terrifying and exhilarating. There was so much she didn't know, so much she couldn't predict—but maybe that was part of the allure.
Hermione hesitantly entered the Great Hall, feeling the weight of a thousand eyes, though most were probably indifferent. She was already late; the buzz of morning chatter was in full swing, and the smell of breakfast hung heavy in the air—freshly baked bread, sizzling sausages, and the familiar scent of pumpkin juice. She scanned the room quickly, her heart racing slightly as she tried to avoid eye contact with anyone at the Head Table. Her cheeks flushed as she made her way through the crowded Gryffindor benches, hoping to remain unnoticed.
She quickly snagged a seat next to Ginny at the far end of the table, closest to the Head Table, feeling both relieved and nervous about the proximity. Ginny glanced up from her breakfast, her brows furrowing as she took in Hermione's slightly disheveled appearance.
"You alright?" Ginny asked quietly, her voice low enough not to be overheard by others. She pushed a goblet of pumpkin juice toward Hermione, her eyes full of concern.
"I overslept," Hermione muttered, a small sigh escaping her lips as she poured herself a cup of tea. "And then I couldn't get out of the shower. I just… couldn't bring myself to leave." She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, her mind still swirling with thoughts from the previous night. Her heart was still heavy, and the pit in her stomach seemed to be getting deeper by the minute.
Hermione tried to focus on her plate, forcing herself to take a few bites of scrambled eggs, but her appetite was nowhere to be found. She looked down at her plate trying to avoid everything around her. She couldn't help but feel exposed sitting so close to the Head Table, knowing who was seated just a few feet away.
She risked a glance up and immediately regretted it. Severus Snape was sitting in his usual chair, his posture rigid, as he engaged in what looked like a rather bland conversation with Professor Flitwick. His dark eyes, however, flicked over to her, and for a moment, they locked onto hers. A shiver of something—anticipation, fear, something she couldn't quite identify—ran down her spine.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she saw the unmistakable movement from the Head Table—a wink. From him. Her heart skipped a beat, her brain struggling to process the sight. A wink from Severus Snape? It was almost incomprehensible. She had seen him sneer, glare, and look indifferent more times than she could count, but this was different. This was endearing, almost playful, and completely out of character for the man she thought she knew. Was he flirting with her? Her mind raced with questions, her cheeks flushing pink.
It felt like time stood still as her thoughts spiraled, a mixture of confusion and something else—an unfamiliar, fluttering excitement. She could barely fathom it. Snape, the guarded and stern Headmaster, was showing her a side she had never seen before. Her pulse quickened, and she found herself wondering what it all meant. Did he intend to provoke her? Was it a test? Or, perhaps, something more genuine? She could hardly allow herself to consider the latter possibility, but the warmth blooming in her chest was impossible to ignore.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, she felt a sharp nudge to her ribs. "Ouch!" she muttered, snapping out of her thoughts and dropping her gaze back down to her plate. She glanced over at Ginny, who wore a knowing smirk on her face, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"Stop staring," Ginny whispered, her tone a mix of amusement and warning. "You looked like you were about to combust or something."
"I—I wasn't staring!" Hermione stammered defensively, her face growing hotter as she tore a piece of toast into tiny crumbs with nervous fingers. She was desperately trying to regain her composure, but her heart was still thudding loudly in her ears.
"Oh, please," Ginny scoffed, her grin widening. "I saw that look on your face. And don't even get me started on the wink." She giggled softly, clearly enjoying her friend's flustered reaction. "I'd say that was definitely a Snape-style flirt if I ever saw one. A bit uncharacteristic, but somehow fitting for him, don't you think?"
Hermione shot her a glare, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching up. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled, knowing full well how unconvincing she sounded. She shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth, hoping to hide her embarrassment.
Ginny just chuckled, leaning in closer. "It's okay, Hermione. You're allowed to enjoy it a little, you know. Not every day someone like Snape gives you that kind of attention."
Hermione's cheeks continued to burn with a stubborn blush as Ginny's teasing persisted, her laughter light but relentless. "Oh, come on, Hermione," Ginny teased, her voice lilting with amusement. "I've never seen you this flustered before. Who would have thought Snape could have that effect on you?"
"Give it a rest, Gin," Hermione warned, trying to sound stern, though the heat radiating from her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. She scrubbed at her face with her hands as if she could somehow rub away the deep pink coloring her skin. Her mind raced to find a way to steer the conversation away from Snape, but Ginny was relentless, a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
Ginny's grin only widened. "But it's just so... interesting," she pressed, her tone feigning innocence. "I mean, who knew you had a thing for the dark, brooding type? I always thought you'd end up with someone like... oh, I don't know, a certain freckled redhead."
Hermione groaned softly, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, please, Ginny. That ship sailed a long time ago. Ron and I are better off as friends, and I've told you that countless times. It's just… Severus is different." She winced as she said his name, realizing how it slipped out so naturally now.
Ginny's eyebrows shot up at the use of Snape's first name. "Severus, is it now?" she asked, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. "My, my, Hermione. You're moving quite fast."
Hermione could feel the blush deepening again, and she buried her face in her hands. "Ugh, I swear, Ginny, if you don't drop it, I'm going to hex you," she threatened, though the threat was empty and half-hearted.
Ginny chuckled, clearly enjoying herself far too much. "Alright, alright," she relented, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I'll give you a break... for now. But you have to admit, it's kind of exciting, isn't it? I mean, Snape? Who would've thought?"
Hermione peered at her friend through her fingers, her blush still present but her annoyance fading. "I don't know if 'exciting' is the right word," she muttered. "Terrifying, maybe. Confusing, definitely. But... I suppose there's something intriguing about it, too."
Ginny's eyes softened, her teasing smile turning into one of genuine support. "Well, whatever it is, just know I'm here for you," she said. "Even if I do find it a little amusing."
Hermione finally dropped her hands from her face, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. "Thanks, Gin. I guess I'll need all the support I can get... considering."
"Considering the Headmaster is making eyes at you over breakfast?" Ginny quipped, her grin returning in full force.
"Ginny!" Hermione groaned, but this time, she couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the morning easing away.
Hermione's eyes darted back to her plate, her mind still buzzing with confusion and reluctant curiosity. She tried to focus on her food, but she couldn't shake the image of his dark eyes and that subtle, almost imperceptible wink. What game was he playing? She wasn't sure, but for the first time in a while, she felt a strange thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins, mingling with the ever-present fear.
"Promise me, Ginny, that you won't speak a word of this to Harry," Hermione blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with urgency. She could feel her nerves tightening like a coiled spring as she considered the potential chaos that could ensue. Harry was fiercely protective—especially when it came to Snape—and if he caught even the slightest hint of what had been happening, things could spiral out of control faster than a rogue Bludger.
Ginny raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in her eyes fading slightly as she sensed Hermione's seriousness. "Why not?" she asked cautiously. "Harry's your friend. He might not like Snape, but he'd want to know if something was going on with you."
Hermione shook her head vehemently, her curls bouncing with the motion. "He wouldn't understand," she insisted, her hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. "And you know how Harry is. He's impulsive. If he thinks Snape is... I don't know, bothering me or manipulating me or something, he'd storm up to the Headmaster's office and demand answers. And we both know Snape isn't exactly known for his patience—or his diplomacy."
Ginny bit her lip, her expression turning more serious as she considered Hermione's words. She knew her friend was right. Harry had always been quick to jump to conclusions, especially where Snape was involved. The thought of him confronting Snape, of all people, made Ginny's stomach twist with dread. "Okay," she said finally, her tone measured and careful. "I promise I won't tell him. But, Hermione… you have to promise me something, too."
Hermione's eyes flicked up to meet Ginny's, searching her friend's face for any hint of judgment or disapproval. She found none—only concern and a fierce protectiveness that matched her own. "What is it?" she asked cautiously.
"You have to promise me that you'll be careful," Ginny said firmly. "I mean it, Hermione. I don't know what's going on between you and Snape, and I'm not going to pry… but just be careful, alright? He's not exactly known for being the most… stable person."
Hermione let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of her friend's words settling on her shoulders. "I know," she replied softly, her eyes drifting back down to her half-eaten plate. "But there's something more going on here. I don't think he's trying to manipulate me—at least not in the way we're used to seeing. It's… complicated."
Ginny nodded, still looking unconvinced but willing to trust Hermione's judgment for now. "Alright. Just don't let your guard down too much, okay? And if you need to talk or anything, you know where I am."
Hermione offered a weak smile, appreciating Ginny's support even amidst her own doubts. "Thanks, Ginny. I mean it. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Ginny squeezed her hand briefly, her smile returning. "Well, you'd probably still be buried in the library, fretting over your Potions essay or something," she teased lightly. "But seriously, Hermione, I'm here for you. Just… be smart about this. Smarter than usual, even."
Hermione chuckled softly at that, the tension easing slightly in her chest. "I'll try," she promised. Yet, as she glanced up toward the Head Table one last time, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the unspoken words between her and Snape.
