A/N: I know not much had happened in the last chapter but I hope this one makes up for it. Please let me know what you think.
"Professor Slughorn is not the same," Hermione complained loudly to Ginny as she plopped down into the hard wooden chair in the library. Her voice carried a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "I'm not learning a thing in that class."
Ginny glanced up from her own stack of books, arching an eyebrow at Hermione's uncharacteristic outburst. "That bad, huh?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. She had grown accustomed to Hermione's high standards when it came to academics, but there was a new level of vexation in her tone today.
"It's dreadful!" Hermione continued, her eyes flashing with annoyance. She slammed her Potions textbook onto the table with more force than necessary, causing a few nearby students to look up from their studies. "Slughorn's classes are all over the place. One moment we're talking about Amortentia, and the next, we're on to Felix Felicis without any depth! And don't get me started on his antidote lessons—he's so vague. He doesn't explain the theory behind anything, just keeps name-dropping famous people he's taught and expecting us to be impressed."
Ginny's lips twitched in amusement. "Well, he does love his connections," she said with a chuckle. "And his parties."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's all fluff and no substance! How are we supposed to prepare for our N.E.W.T.s with that kind of teaching? I miss when Sn—" She caught herself, her cheeks flushing slightly, but pressed on anyway. "When Snape taught Potions, at least he challenged us. I hated it at the time, but I learned so much more from him. I feel like I'm regressing under Slughorn."
Ginny leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "So, what are you going to do about it? Transfer to the Headmaster's Advanced Potions class?" she asked teasingly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Gin, you know that isn't the answer," she replied, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I just want to be challenged this year, and everything we've done has been anything but. It feels like we're wasting time in that classroom, listening to Slughorn's stories about his past students and their successes, instead of focusing on the actual craft of Potions."
She sighed deeply, her hands gesturing animatedly as she continued. "I never thought I would say this, but I actually miss Severus as our professor. He was passionate about the subject, and nothing was ever easy in his class. There was a method to his madness. You either have it, or you don't, and he wouldn't take subpar work as easily as Slughorn does."
The moment the name Severus slipped out, Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly. It had happened again—his first name, not his title, rolling off her tongue with a familiarity that felt strangely intimate. She could feel Ginny's eyes on her, a teasing grin playing at her lips, but Hermione tried to ignore it, pushing forward with her thoughts.
"Everything in his lessons had a purpose," she continued, her voice more controlled but still laced with longing. "He made us understand the why behind every ingredient, every stir, every temperature change. It was infuriating sometimes, but it worked. We became better because of it. Now, I feel like I'm losing ground."
Ginny leaned back in her chair, watching Hermione with a knowing smile. "It sounds like you miss more than just his teaching style," she teased, her tone light but her eyes sharp.
Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "It's not like that," she insisted, though the heat on her face betrayed her. "I just want to learn properly. I've always been like that, and you know it."
"But you called him Severus," Ginny pointed out with a smirk, leaning forward as if she'd caught Hermione in some unspoken confession. "And not for the first time, either. Maybe you're getting a bit more comfortable with him?"
Hermione opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss for words. She had noticed it too—the way his name came so naturally now, almost like it belonged there. "I don't know," she said finally, her voice softer, more contemplative.
Ginny chuckled. "Maybe it's a sign you're starting to see him as something more than just your old professor"
Hermione's face reddened further, and she quickly busied herself by rifling through her notes. "You're impossible, you know that?" she muttered, but there was no real venom in her words. Ginny's teasing had a way of digging under her skin, but sometimes it made her confront things she'd rather not face.
"Maybe you just miss having him around more often," Ginny added, her voice laced with amusement. She leaned in closer, clearly enjoying the way Hermione's cheeks deepened in color.
Hermione felt her irritation flare, but beneath it, there was a twinge of something else—something she didn't quite want to acknowledge. "I do not miss having him around," she snapped, though the words sounded defensive even to her own ears. She tried to muster some indignation to match her retort. "I just… I miss being challenged intellectually, that's all."
Ginny's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I don't doubt that. But I think there's a bit more to it, isn't there?" She leaned back, crossing her arms as if she'd just unraveled some great mystery.
"Ginny!" Hermione cut her off, shooting her a sharp look, but she couldn't hide the nervous flutter that her friend's words caused in her chest. She hated how easily Ginny could read her, how effortlessly she could stir up thoughts Hermione was trying to suppress.
Ginny's smile softened, and she placed a hand on Hermione's arm, her teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. "Look, I'm just saying, maybe it wouldn't hurt to see where this thing goes. You're always so focused on being perfect and having everything figured out, but sometimes… the best things are the ones that catch you by surprise."
Hermione looked at Ginny, seeing the genuine concern in her friend's eyes, and sighed. "I just don't know if I'm ready for all of that," she confessed, her voice quieter now. "To open myself up like that… especially with someone like him. What if it's a mistake?"
Ginny squeezed her arm reassuringly. "And what if it's not?" she countered gently. "What if it's exactly what you need, 'Mione? A challenge, a bit of unpredictability... something to shake you out of your head and into your heart?"
Hermione felt a lump form in her throat, a mix of fear and anticipation swelling inside her. She knew Ginny was right, in a way. She was always the one who played it safe, who planned every move, every step. But this—whatever this was with Severus—was something she couldn't plan for, something that defied all her logical reasoning. And perhaps that's what scared her the most.
"Maybe," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, "maybe I'll try to see where it goes."
"I'll catch you later," Ginny said, rising from her seat and slinging her bag over her shoulder with a fluid motion. "I promised Harry I'd help him with his homework in the common room. You know how hopeless he gets with Potions." She chuckled, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation.
Hermione nodded, watching her friend gather her things. "You'd think after all these years, he'd at least remember the basics," she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Ginny laughed. "You'd think, right? But no. The boy can face down a dark wizard but put a cauldron in front of him, and he's lost."
Hermione's smile widened at that, a familiar warmth spreading in her chest. She'd needed this—some lighthearted banter to ground her after all the heavy thoughts that had been swirling around her mind. "I'll see you later for dinner," she said, her voice softer, calmer now.
Ginny gave her a pointed look before she left. "And, 'Mione? Don't spend all your time in here brooding over books and… other things." Her eyebrows waggled playfully, leaving no doubt about what—or rather, who—she was referring to. "Go take a walk or something. Clear your head."
"Yeah, yeah, I will," Hermione muttered, waving her off. "Go save Harry from his academic doom."
"Will do!" Ginny called back, already moving toward the exit. She turned around briefly and added with a grin, "And remember, keep that open mind, okay?"
Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded nonetheless, watching as Ginny disappeared through the library doors. Left alone, the quietness of the library settled around her once more, broken only by the soft rustling of pages being turned in distant aisles.
Not a minute had passed when the empty chair across from Hermione was suddenly occupied. She didn't need to look up to know who it was; the air seemed to shift, growing heavier with a familiar intensity that sent her senses on high alert. She looked up and, sure enough, Headmaster Snape was settling into the seat with a smooth, almost predatory grace.
"It sounds like someone misses me," he drawled quietly, his voice low and silky, laced with a subtle amusement that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. With a casual flick of his wrist, he wandlessly cast a strong Muffliato charm around their table, ensuring their conversation would remain private. The soft hum of the library around them seemed to dim, the noises fading away as if they were in their own secluded world.
Hermione's eyes widened slightly, her heart giving a traitorous flutter in her chest. She hadn't expected him to approach her, especially here in the library where she sought refuge. The audacity of his comment caught her off guard. "I wasn't—" she began, her voice a bit sharper than she intended. She quickly cleared her throat and tried again, more controlled this time. "I wasn't talking about you, Headmaster."
"Weren't you?" he countered smoothly, his dark eyes boring into hers with that unnerving intensity she had come to know all too well. "I distinctly heard my name escape your lips, Hermione. Or am I mistaken?" His tone was deceptively soft, yet there was an underlying challenge, daring her to deny it.
Hermione felt the heat rising in her cheeks, the warmth spreading despite her best efforts to stay composed. "I was merely commenting on the Potions classes," she defended, her voice measured but tinged with a hint of defiance. "Professor Slughorn lacks the... rigor you once enforced, and I find it rather unchallenging."
Snape's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "A critique of my successor, then," he mused, leaning forward slightly, his gaze never wavering from hers. "But I believe there was more to it, wasn't there? Perhaps a hint of admiration?" His voice dropped lower, a near whisper. "And perhaps, longing?"
Hermione's breath hitched at his words. How did he always manage to unearth her thoughts with such precision? She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "I think you're reading too much into it," she retorted, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her.
He chuckled softly, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through her. "You may fool your friends, Hermione, but you cannot fool me," he murmured, his eyes softening just a fraction. "I know you better than that."
Hermione's mind raced. She wasn't sure if it was the intensity of his gaze or the undeniable truth of his words, but she felt as if she were standing on a precipice, teetering on the edge of something she couldn't quite name. "And what exactly do you think you know about me, Headmaster?" she challenged, her chin lifting slightly.
Snape's expression darkened with a sudden seriousness. "I know that you crave knowledge and understanding above all else," he began, his voice steady and commanding. "And I know that you've been struggling—struggling to reconcile what you've learned about us, about this bond we share." His eyes softened ever so slightly, a rare vulnerability slipping through. "And I know you're afraid, Hermione. You're afraid of what you might feel, of what this might mean."
Hermione's chest tightened at his words. It was as if he had peeled back all her layers, exposing her deepest fears and desires. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. For once, she was speechless.
Snape's words were spoken with a quiet confidence that made Hermione's stomach twist into knots. "I also know that you can't stop thinking about me," he continued, his smirk deepening as he observed her reaction. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into hers with a knowing glint, as if he were peeling back the layers of her thoughts, reading her like one of her precious books. "Just like I can't stop thinking about you."
Hermione felt her face flush with heat. She opened her mouth to protest, to deny his presumptuous claim, but the words got stuck in her throat. She couldn't lie to him—not when he was looking at her with such unyielding certainty. And she certainly couldn't lie to herself. Her thoughts had been plagued by him since their encounter in his office, since the moment she had accepted this strange, undeniable bond between them. She had felt his presence like a shadow in the back of her mind, a constant pull that refused to be ignored.
"You have bewitched me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone that sent a tremor through her entire body. It was as if he were confessing a forbidden secret, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of vulnerability and desire. The words were intimate, far more so than the simple kiss he'd placed on her knuckles the night before. They held weight, a promise, and something more—something that scared her and excited her in equal measure.
The library seemed to shrink around them, the world outside their bubble of silence fading away as the gravity of his admission settled in the air between them. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest, her pulse echoing loudly in her ears. "What are you saying?" she asked softly, her voice trembling despite her attempt to keep it steady. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," Snape began, leaning closer, his eyes never leaving hers, "that you are constantly in my thoughts. That I find myself drawn to you in ways I cannot explain or control. You have invaded my mind, my very essence, and I have found no way to remove you." There was no hint of mockery in his voice now, only a raw honesty that made her breath catch in her throat.
Hermione stared at him, her lips parting slightly as she tried to process the depth of his words. This was a side of Snape she had never seen before—open, sincere, and almost... vulnerable. It was disarming, to say the least. "But why?" she whispered, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Why me? After everything..."
"Because you are unlike anyone I have ever known," he said simply, his tone devoid of its usual sarcasm or bitterness. "You challenge me, frustrate me, and intrigue me in equal measure. And despite my best efforts, I find myself... captivated by you." He let out a breath, almost as if he were admitting this to himself for the first time. "You are clever, passionate, and infuriatingly stubborn, Hermione. How could I not be drawn to you?"
The sincerity in his voice left Hermione breathless. She had expected many things from Severus Snape, but this—this was not one of them. She felt a shiver run down her spine, not from fear or apprehension, but from the sheer intensity of his confession. "I never thought..." she started, then stopped, swallowing hard. "I never thought you saw me as anything more than a student."
"For a time, that's all you were," he admitted, his eyes softening slightly. "But you have grown, Hermione. And in doing so, you have become something... more." His gaze flickered down to her lips for the briefest moment before returning to her eyes. "Something I cannot ignore."
The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension, an almost tangible pull that drew them closer despite the table separating them. Hermione's breath was shallow, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. She had never imagined Snape could feel this way—had never dared to dream that the cold, enigmatic man she had known could harbor such intense feelings for her.
Uncaring about being caught in public, Severus leaned forward, his movements deliberate and decisive. The world around them seemed to slow as he reached out, his fingers gently cupping her cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of her jawline. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise. She barely had a moment to register his intent before his lips met hers in a searing kiss.
The library, once filled with the faint rustle of pages and soft murmurs of students, became a distant blur. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, her mind going blank as the warmth of his mouth pressed against hers, sending a rush of heat through her veins. The kiss was firm but tender, almost like a question—a hesitant exploration that quickly grew more confident. His lips moved against hers with a hunger she had never felt from him before, an urgency that spoke of the countless nights he must have longed for this moment.
Hermione's body responded before her mind could catch up. Her hand instinctively reached up, her fingers curling around the fabric of his robes, pulling him closer. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his heartbeat drumming a steady rhythm against her chest. It was intoxicating—the way he seemed to pour his unspoken emotions into the kiss, a mixture of possessiveness, longing, and a desperation that she hadn't realized he possessed.
The faint scent of his robes, a blend of sandalwood and the lingering sharpness of potions, filled her senses, grounding her in the reality of the moment. His other hand moved to the back of her neck, tangling in her hair, and Hermione felt a shiver course through her body, her skin erupting in goosebumps as his fingers threaded through her curls. She could feel the tension in his grip, the controlled restraint he was barely managing to keep in check.
The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Severus tilted his head slightly, his lips parting hers with a soft, breathless sigh that sent a thrill down her spine. She could feel his breath mingling with hers, hot and ragged, and she found herself matching his intensity, her body instinctively leaning into him as if trying to melt into his very being. There was a fierceness to the way he kissed her, a raw, unfiltered emotion that spoke of unspoken words and hidden desires.
Time seemed to stretch and bend, making the seconds feel like an eternity. The world around them could have collapsed, and neither of them would have noticed or cared. The kiss felt like a binding—a reaffirmation of everything they had come to realize about their bond, a declaration that they were both ready to step into the unknown, together.
As the need for air became undeniable, Severus finally broke the kiss, his lips lingering against hers for a moment longer before he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His breath was heavy, his eyes dark and intense, filled with a mixture of triumph and vulnerability that she had rarely seen in him. The corner of his mouth curled into a slight, almost predatory smile as if he had claimed something he had always known was his.
Hermione's chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, her mind still spinning from the electrifying intensity of the kiss. She could still taste him on her lips, a mix of peppermint and something uniquely Severus. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, her body tingling with a strange mix of exhilaration and nervous energy. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with an expression that was both possessive and almost tender, his thumb still brushing gently against her cheek.
"You are mine, Hermione," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a quiet confidence that left no room for doubt. "And I am yours. There's no escaping it now."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. The intensity of his gaze held her captive, and she knew, in that moment, that something irrevocable had shifted between them. She wasn't sure if it was the kiss, the way he looked at her, or the way her heart seemed to skip a beat every time he spoke her name—but she knew that nothing would ever be the same again. And, to her surprise, she found herself not wanting it any other way.
"Then I suppose there's no point in running," she whispered back, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside her.
Severus's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Wise choice, Miss Granger," he murmured, his thumb trailing down to her jawline with a deliberate slowness. "Very wise indeed."
And as his lips brushed hers once more, softer this time, Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps, just perhaps, she had finally found something worth holding onto, even if it terrified her to her very core.
