Fandom: Harry Potter
PAIRING: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Hermione wins Snape in an auction and gets more than she bargained for.
Author’s Notes: Very vaguely inspired by the bachelor’s auction challenge on WIKTT, but fits none of those criteria – just an auction where Hermione bids on Snape.
Caution: This is long and kind of angsty, with no lemons and an uncertain Happily-Ever-After. Snape and Hermione do find each other and love, but the form it takes is of their own making. I hope that you’ll give them a chance to share it with you.
Prologue
The train slowly rumbled towards Hogwarts, as Hermione Granger bent over her notes, sighing and marking comments in the margins, in her cramped penmanship. She was deeply engrossed, but those who suspected that she was just studying, as usual, would have been disappointed. She had another task on her mind.
The war against Voldemort had taken quite a toll on the Wizarding World. Of course, one of the biggest costs was – well – the cost. Reparations – for widows, children and rebuilding – were costly measures. As such, there was little left for frivolity.
The seventh year students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were feeling this strain. Many of their normal social functions had been cancelled, due to a lack of funds in the school budget. For a class of teenagers, who had long lived under the shadow of Voldemort, and were now free, this was unacceptable.
Their complaints had been heard before Winter Break, when the annual dance had been cancelled. As a compromise, a Valentine’s Dance for the fifth through seventh years had been planned, with the provision that the sponsoring class found a way to support it. A committee had been formed for that purpose, and Hermione Granger, as Head Girl, had naturally volunteered – or been volunteered (She was never quite sure which was the case when Dumbledore was involved).
Despite her reputation for an overly studious manner, she was in support of the social exercise. She was quite familiar with the muggle idea of stress relief. It had been her idea to hold the auction. Pansy had just wanted to charge everyone for the privilege of attending, and was not happy when Hermione pointed out the flaws in that plan, mainly that every student deserved the right to attend, and not all of them could afford what she was suggesting. However, they were not deterred until Hermione made it personal. With no upfront funds, everything had to be funded out of pocket, with no guarantee of commitment or returns on their investment. An auction was a very lovely idea, indeed.
It was Ginny Weasley who had a stroke of inspiration as to what they should auction. After all, her brothers were Hogsmeade merchants. They and others could be persuaded to offer goods and services for little or no cost. One Hogsmeade weekend, the committee members ambushed several merchants, who ended up good-naturedly supporting them.
Fred and George donated several interesting packages of undisclosed wheezes (to protect the guilty, of course). Rosemerta offered a dinner date for two, at the pub. There were also various other privileges being auctioned, such as breakfast in bed for a week, courtesy of the house elves. All in all, it was shaping up well, and the auction was set for a week from Saturday.
Hermione could hear Ron and Harry returning to the compartment, so she put away her notes and checklists. They would tease her the rest of the way to Hogwarts, if they found her working, and the committee had decided to keep as much of the proceeding as secret as they could.
Everyone knew some things, of course. Flyers had been displayed in the common rooms, before Winter Break, to generate interest and convince students to bring what money they could, for the auction. Much of it would still be a surprise. For all of her chats and lists and plans, even Hermione had no idea how much of a surprise it would be.
Chapter 1
The Great Hall was festively decorated for the evening. Small round tables, seating six to twelve students each, took the place of the normal house tables, not that there was much inter-house seating occurring. With the tablecloths and centerpieces, the light supper was a treat itself, though they still wore their school robes.
On the dais, that normally held the teacher’s table, was a small stage, with a podium for the auction. Madame Hooch had agreed to play auctioneer, with her sharp eye and strong voice. Luckily, they had talked the headmaster out of officiating. He would be making the opening announcement, instead.
He stood before them now and cleared his throat. “Welcome. This has been a rather uneventful year, as yet. Pleasant as though that may be to these old ears, I have been informed that it has been rather too uneventful for some of you. So, we have this evening and the upcoming Valentine’s Ball to look forward to. The members of your planning committee have been very busy.”
Hermione blushed as Ron nudged her and hooted, clapping along with the rest of the students.
Dumbledore raised his arm, and then continued again, “In light of all of your hard work, there is an added bonus to tonight’s schedule.” His eyes twinkled, as he paused and smiled at the students. “Each of your teachers has agreed to donate no less than three hours of their time and the skill of their choice. You will have the opportunity to bid on them, tonight.”
This caused a loud reaction among the students, as they took in this information. They looked around the room at the teachers and talked amongst themselves.
Dumbledore stepped back and Madame Hooch stepped up to the podium. She cast the sonorous charm on herself and reached into the bin beside her and drew a card. “Let us begin. The first item up for bid is an evening for two in Hogsmeade. We’ll begin with two sickles…”
The bidding went well, and Hermione was pleased. The atmosphere was friendly and the bidding wars encouraged with good nature. Everyone was behaving themselves, even the Slytherins, who seemed content not to spread their occasionally venomous remarks beyond their own tables. They were just now moving onto the professors and they had already outstripped her conservative estimate.
Madame Hooch opened for the professors, since she was already on-stage. She was offering a Sunday afternoon on the Quidditch pitch, with training, an open game with choice of players and positions, or a one-on-one seeker battle against herself. Quidditch being what it was amongst the teens, the bidding was fierce. Neither Harry nor Ron bid long on it, but Ginny was very interested and was one of the final three in contention. When it became obvious that she would be disappointed, Harry quietly slid her several galleons. He was once again her hero, as she won the lot.
Dumbledore was next, his eyes twinkling in excitement, as he offered an afternoon of tea and Wizard’s Chess. This peaked Ron’s interest, but he had already spent most of his allowance on earlier bids. Harry looked sheepishly at him, but Ron shrugged good-naturedly, when it went to a Ravenclaw fifth year. Hermione reminded him that he could still ask Dumbledore to play the next time they were all at Grimmold Place. He brightened up at that.
So it went, each of the professors getting good results, despite the initial wariness of the students to bid on spending time with the adults. Then it was Professor Snape’s turn. He barely spoke, other than to say that he would offer three hours of potions tutoring at the time of his convenience. He stood stiffly and glared at the students, as if daring them to bid on his time.
The room was eerily silent, not even the Slytherins spoke up for their Head of House. Draco just smirked condescendingly, and whispered to his tablemates. Hermione could not believe that no one was going to bid. Finally, as Madame Hooch began to look uncomfortable, she spoke up.
“Three galleons.” Several gasps were heard, including several from her own table. It was a fair bid, but unheard of as an opening gambit.
Ron elbowed her and hissed, “Are you mad?”
She just shrugged and the bid was accepted. Snape looked at her intensely, before inclining his head in acknowledgement and stalking off the stage.
Madame Hooch quickly stepped up and announced the auction complete. She cast the Quietus spell. Dumbledore took her place and congratulated them. He gave them the details for completing their transactions and announced that they had thirty minutes until curfew.
Hermione made her way over to one of the tables where Professor McGonagall was acting as purser, and settled her winnings. It seemed she had bought herself a Snape.
Chapter 2
Hermione was unsure about how to approach Professor Snape about the results of the action, and had several days to muse over the problem. When he said nothing to her during Potions on Monday, or again on Wednesday, she realized that she would have to approach him about the subject. When class ended on Friday, she sent Ron and Harry ahead to History of Magic and waited to talk to Professor Snape.
He was not pleased to see her lingering in his classroom, when he looked up from the essays he was gathering on his desk. “Yes?”
“Sir, I would like to know when you would be able to fulfill the terms of the auction?”
“I am a very busy man, Miss Granger.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He clearly thought that was the end of the conversation, but she continued to stand there silently. Finally, he sighed. “I am free tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock. I will, however, not wait for you, if you are tardy. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir. I will be here.”
He nodded his head and walked passed her to his office. She hurried to her next class.
The next day she hurried through lunch, and made her way to the dungeons. At two minutes before the appointed hour she knocked on the open classroom door. Snape was standing at one of the long tables at the far end of the room working over a steaming cauldron. He bade her enter then cast a stasis charm over his work.
“What do you want, Miss Granger.”
“Sir?”
“It was a simple enough question. Surely, a know-it-all like yourself must have an answer.”
“I am here because of the auction. I paid for three hours of Potions tutoring.”
“I am aware of that, Miss Granger; however, as you are the last student in need of tutoring in potions, I assume that your bid was offered for other motives.”
Her face was flushed at the unintentional compliment, “Yes, Sir, I mean no.” She scrunched her face up to stop her babbling and try to compose her thoughts. She took a deep breath and continued, “No, I do not require tutoring, but I don’t have any other motives. I am interested in potions.” Her face was still flushed, and her inner voice screamed, “Liar!” It sounded lame, even to her. She was interested in potions, but she couldn’t exactly tell him that she bid on him because no one else would. It had been pretty obvious.
Apparently, so was she, because his next remark assured her that he held no illusions. “Heaven forbid, when you cross the sentimentality of a Hufflepuff, with the blind stupidity of a Gryffindor.
“Thank you, Miss Granger. You have done your duty. You can leave now. I am sure that we both have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon.”
“No, Sir.”
He looked back at her sharply, clearly not expecting to be contradicted. “Well, pity. I am sure that I do. Run along.”
“I meant, no, Sir, regardless of my motivations, I did purchase three hours of your time. I expect that you should honor that.”
His eyes narrowed and darkened at her words. “And what, pray tell, would you know about honor, Miss Granger?”
“Never the less, Professor, you owe me three hours of Potions tutoring.”
He stared at her for several long moments. “Very well, Miss Granger, I assume that you have come prepared. Get out your book and some parchment. Let’s begin.”
They continued in that manner and that tone for some time. Hermione was getting more frustrated by the minute. When he, once again, questioned her at length over a point that they both knew she well understood she gave up.
“This isn’t tutoring. This is like class, or detention.” Hermione sighed. “Can we talk?”
“Talk? What on earth would we have to talk about, Miss Granger?”
Hermione, however, was a bit more prepared for this, and bent over to open her knapsack. She began rooting through her things and pulling out various articles and scrolls. Holding one up, she smiled brightly and turned to Snape. “I found this article on the detoxification of Belladonna preparations, but there were also several rather unpopular points made as to the fact that there were several safer alternatives for substitution instead. I was wondering – since the processes described already weakens the overall effectiveness of the preparations, what difference would it make to use a less effective, but safer alternative?”
She tried to pass him the article, but he held up his hand in a halting manner. “I am familiar with the article, Miss Granger.”
He began to speak, and the time passed rather more quickly after that.
Chapter 3
Hermione was sitting in the common room a few days later, contemplating her conversation with Professor Snape. He was quite insightful, even beyond the theories and mechanics of his profession. She had expected condescension and a lecture, if he had even accepted her overture for conversation. True, there had been some of that in the beginning. He didn’t berate her know-it-all tendencies – much – beyond suggesting that she should have plenty of work to do for her classes that she shouldn’t have to go looking for more. However, he was surprisingly passionate about his subject and seemed to welcome the discourse. He relaxed a bit, when met with her obvious enthusiasm and knowledge.
After a bit, he had prepared tea for them, while expanding on a theory of sympathetic magic in potions preparation. It was sort of enthralling to watch his nimble movements and precision in even the most mundane of tasks. It was almost difficult to reconcile her companion with the domineering professor who ruled her classroom hours. While she knew that professors had lives and identities beyond that of her instructor, it was weird to personally experience the dichotomy.
Harry and Ron surely wouldn’t understand. She hadn’t even bothered to try to explain it to them when they questioned her after dinner on Saturday. They had acted sympathetic and made derogatory remarks about spending extra-curricular time in the company of their ‘greasy git’ of a potions master. Her defense that it hadn’t been so bad was met with disbelief and questions about her mental health.
The idea that she might like to repeat the experience was beyond their realm of comprehension. As such, she chose not to share it with them. She was considering it, though. She had no idea of how Professor Snape would take the suggestion, and there was no one to discuss it with. She would just have to gather her Gryffindor courage and take a chance.
It was with that thought in mind that she knocked on the door to Professor Snape’s office the next afternoon. As he tersely bade her, “Enter,” she straightened her posture and took a deep breath before pushing open the door. “Here goes nothing,” she thought.
“Miss Granger, to what do I owe this interruption?”
“Sorry, Professor Snape. I was wondering if we could schedule a time to discuss another article that I found.”
“Miss Granger, if you are having trouble comprehending your extra-curricular reading materials, them perhaps you should not be wasting your time in such a manner.”
“No, Sir. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then perhaps you should say what you mean. Despite my talents, I do not make it a habit to be a mind reader.”
“I enjoyed our conversation last weekend and would like to do it again.”
“Last weekend was an obligation. It has since been fulfilled. I do not make it a habit to socialize with students, Miss Granger, particularly ones not of my house.”
“Yes, Sir.” Hermione tried to hide her disappointment, but failed. She tried to think of what she could say to convince him. Her forehead wrinkled and she frowned, her lips pursed slightly in frustration.
He rolled his eyes at her display. “Miss Granger, if you are determined to make a nuisance of yourself, you may return Thursday evening after dinner. I will be brewing potions for Madame Pomfrey. You may assist.”
“Thank you, Professor Snape.” A smile lit her face.
“Good day, Miss Granger.” He dismissed her and turned back to his work. She quickly fled before he could change his mind.
Wednesday night, she was in quite a state, gathering the materials that she wished to discuss and reviewing some of the potions that she knew Madame Pomfrey used in the infirmary. She knew that he would not be patient, if she were unprepared. While he had not yet been the ogre that he could be in class, it was obvious that he had little patience for incompetence.
She made it through Thursday, mainly because she was learning new theories in Transfiguration and Arithmancy and had little time to concentrate on anything else. However, by dinner, her stomach was in knots and she could barely eat her dinner.
When she saw Professor Snape leaving the dining hall, she quickly made her excuses to Harry and Ron, who were luckily embroiled in a discussion about Quidditch and didn’t notice to question her. She gathered her things and made her way to the dungeons.
When she entered, she found him already setting up a couple of cauldrons and gathering supplies. He merely nodded to acknowledge her presence, as she settled her things and tied her hair back, out of her face. When she approached him and said, “Good Evening,” he grunted in response.
“We are making a large batch of pepper-up and a general flu preparation; the formulas are on the table. Prepare the ingredients that I have marked. I trust that you are capable of doing so.”
“Yes, Sir.” She started by grating the willow bark. A large quantity was needed for both. “A large number of muggles are allergic to aspirin, a chemical similar to this. Do you have that problem with wizards? How do you deal with allergies and such?
“Miss Granger, must you chatter all of the time? I am not a medi-witch. However, you will find very few ‘allergies’ among wizards. It is possible that it has to do with the magical intent of the potions, as much as anything else. However, in the case of poisonings, or negative reactions, there is a protocol to follow, according to the substance in question. There are also alternative treatments, though less popular, much like the discussion we had previously.”
“Hmm,” She acknowledged the answer, but held her tongue and concentrated on her work. She saw that he was reaching a delicate stage of his potion, and knew that he would not welcome idle banter.
They worked in companionable silence, until the potions were both simmering. Thankfully, it was he who brought up the reason for her presence. “I believe that you had another article that you wished to discuss, Miss Granger.”
“Yes, Professor.” She walked over to her things to retrieve the articles she had gathered. “I was reading about the alchemical properties of silver preparations, for use in healing serums and….”
They talked as they prepared bottles and vials for the potions, and the conversation flowed to several other topics while they did the bottling. After they had cleaned up the workspace and stored the leftover ingredients, he turned to her and handed her a book on medicinal potions.
Sternly, he told her. “Here. I expect this to be returned in the same condition in which you are receiving it. If you are going to insist on these ‘conversations,’ they should at least be worthwhile. You may return next Thursday, to assist me again. I expect you to be prepared, or do not waste my time.
“I suppose that if you are here, making yourself useful, you will not be elsewhere getting into mischief with Potter and Weasley.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Professor Snape.”
“Good night, Miss Granger.”
“Good night, Professor Snape.” She returned to the common room with a smile, but refused to analyze why she was so happy that he had invited her back.
Chapter 4
For the next several weeks, the meetings became routine for them. Hermione’s workload increased, as she rushed through her homework to have time to scour different journals and periodicals and to read the books and journals Professor Snape pressed on her each week. Despite the additional burden, she was quite happy and enjoyed the challenge to her mind. She looked forward to the weekly sessions, in a way that she used to approach her classes.
That is why it was disappointing to show up one Thursday and find the classroom dark and Professor Snape not in attendance. She was unsure what to do, and so she slid to the floor and pulled out a book to read while she waited. She was still there a while later when the headmaster came upon her, startling her.
“Good Evening, Miss Granger.”
“Hello, Headmaster,” she smiled and rose to her feet. “I was just waiting for Professor Snape. I was, I mean, I have been….”
The headmaster waved away her explanations. “Yes, Miss Granger. I am aware of how you have been spending your evenings. I am afraid that you will have to make alternate plans for tonight, however. Professor Snape is unable to join you this evening. He has been otherwise detained.”
“Oh,” she said with disappointment. “I didn’t know.” She gave him a wan smile and gathered her things. “I hope… umm, tell him… never mind. Thank you, for letting me know, Sir.”
“Not at all, Miss Granger. You should be moving along, now. It is getting late.”
“Yes, Sir, Good Night.”
“Good Night, Miss Granger.”
Hermione was puzzled, but tried (unsuccessfully) not to dwell on it. Of course, he would have other things to do. She was lucky their plans had continued as they had. She did regret missing their session, though. She had come to quite look forward to their time. She resolved to not worry on it any more.
That resolve was much tested when she showed up to Potions, the next morning, to find Headmaster Dumbledore in attendance, instead of Professor Snape. She could not question him in front of the class, but she could feel his knowing eyes on her, from time to time. She prepared the Fremanellan Potion with the rest of the class, and assisted Neville the best that she could, since Professor Snape was not there to take points. However, she felt quite unsettled by his continued absence.
The next day was a Hogsmeade visit, but she begged off from attending with Harry and Ron, much to their chagrin. They assumed that she was obsessed with studying for NEWTS, and she did not disabuse them of that notion. Instead, she waited for everyone to depart, and made her way to the dungeons.
She knocked on the door to Professor Snape’s off ice and heard him bark at her to, Come in.”
“Miss Granger, what are you doing here? I assumed you would have availed yourself of the opportunity to go gallivanting with your classmates.” He sounded even more surly than usual.
“No, Sir. I was going to do some studying. I was worried about you.”
His hands shook as he set his teacup on its saucer. “I assure you, Miss Granger, that my welfare is none of your concern.”
“Yes, Sir. It’s just… are you alright?” She noticed the tremors in his hands, and the dark circles under his eyes. His skin was even more sallow than usual, if that were possible.
“I don’t owe you any explanations, as to where or how I spend my time, Miss Granger. You are intruding, where you are not welcome. I did not ask for your concern, nor is it welcome. I am not one of your classmates, which you insist on mothering. It would behoove you to remember that I am your professor, and not your concern.
“You are dismissed. I advise you to find better uses for your time, than questioning me, about mine.”
“Yes, Sir. Good… good afternoon.” She ran out of the room and back to Gryffindor, where she flung herself onto her bed and cried, until she fell into an uneasy sleep.
When she awoke several hours later and looked into the mirror, she was greeted with a splotchy face and her bushy hair, hopelessly tangled around her face. She became angry that she had allowed Professor Snape to reduce her to such a state. “That mean… git. I was just being nice, but noooo – Merlin forbid that someone should worry about him, or express some *human* emotion.
“Fine! It won’t happen again. That… that… grrrrh!”
Her anger carried her through the weekend, but by class on Monday, it had almost faded. However, when Professor Snape was his usual obnoxious self in Potions class, it was transmuted to a steely resolve to take him at his word and mind her own business. It was with this new attitude that Hermione returned to the dungeons on Thursday evening. She refused to be cowed, or to hide away because of his treatment. If he didn’t want her there, he would have to say so.
He didn’t dismiss her. He merely grunted at her presence, as she went about her duties. They worked efficiently and in relative silence most of the evening. Hermione was righteously indignant, and refused to back down.
Her anger was beginning to renew itself, as she gathered her things to leave. However, it deserted her in a rush when he quietly spoke. “Thank you, Miss Granger.”
She looked back at him, in surprise, and nodded her head. It was with a lighter heart and a wry smile that she returned to her rooms that night.
Chapter 5
The Valentine’s Day Ball was quickly approaching. It kept Hermione busy and left her with little extra time for anything. Her friends were excited about the dance, and their dates, and so paid little attention to her or her own lack of enthusiasm on the subject.
In fact, no one, not even Ron, Harry, or Ginny had asked about her own plans for the evening. As head girl and committee member, her attendance was expected, but no one had asked her to accompany him. She was not overly unhappy about that. She was even indulgently happy for her friends, especially Ginny, who was finally getting her wish to be Harry’s date for the evening. She was glad to be a part of providing this opportunity for her friends. However, she would be equally thrilled when it was over.
Her time with Professor Snape had become a welcome refuge from the bustle of the common room and whispering crowds in the library. Everyone had hearts and flowers on the brain. She snickered when she wondered if there was a cure for such foolishness, and then realized, if there were, Professor Snape would probably make its administration mandatory. She knew that they would be brewing the unrequited love potion tonight. Madame Pomfrey would need it to combat some of the foolishness of the day.
Professor Snape was quiet tonight, barely speaking at all, but she had become comfortable with these silences. The potion was simmering – a sickly pinkish puce color, and he was preparing tea for them, in his customary manner.
She was surprised when he abruptly sat the teapot down, with a clatter, and left the room, without a word to her. Hermione stared after him, as he retreated to his office. She was at a loss, but finished the potion, bottled it and cleaned up. When he still had not returned, she followed him to his office.
The door was open, as he was unlikely to abandon her completely to the business of making potions, without a chaperone. She found him sitting at his desk, staring at his hands, which were shaking, once again. He was sweating and paler than usual. She started to ask what was wrong, but closed her mouth with an audible click of her jaw. Instead, she turned and went to retrieve the tea set that he had abandoned.
She finished the preparations and spoke quietly, telling him that she had finished the potion. She placed the cup of tea before him, but was unsurprised when he made no move to partake of the beverage. She continued to talk in her modulated tone, babbling inconsequentially and not requiring a response from him.
She was startled to see a single tear fall from his tightly closed eyes. She moved to stand next to him, before she considered the consequences. Slowly, she reached out to him and wiped it away with the pad of her thumb. He caught her hand roughly in his, and she flinched at his quick response and tight grip.
“This isn’t some game, Miss Granger.”
“I never thought it was,” she managed to reply. It was disturbing to see him so vulnerable, but she couldn’t have moved, even if she had wanted to.
He gazed upon her for a moment and then drew her closer and pressed his lips to the base of her palm.
“Goodnight, Hermione.”
“Good night, Professor Snape.” She left quickly, and returned to Gryffindor Tower, her emotions in turmoil.
She slept fitfully, and was still out of sorts as the day of the Valentine’s Ball dawned clear and bright. The slight reprieve from the dreary winter, and the excitement about the dance, meant that the students were in high spirits. The fact that classes had been cancelled for the day only added to the excitement. Owls and flowers and giggling adolescents were the order of the day in the common rooms. Hermione was all too happy to escape to the last minute preparations in the Great Hall.
She cheerfully took responsibility for finalizing the decorations, when the others begged off, one by one, to get ready for the evening. She welcomed the solitude. When she could delay no longer, she returned to her own room to get ready.
She was glad to have a single room this year, so as not to be subject to Lavender’s and Parvati’s endless primping and commentary. It took her very little time to get ready on her own. She put on her periwinkle dress robes, swept her hair up into a fairly neat chignon, and applied a moisturizers and a minimal amount of make-up to her face. She felt almost pretty, but acknowledged that there was no one to really impress, even if she could.
Still, she was in relative good spirits when she made her way to the Great Hall, only a few minutes late. The party was already beginning to pick up into full swing and several couples danced to the music that had been provided for such purpose. She made her way across to the refreshment table to get some punch and check on the offerings provided by the house elves.
She mingled among her fellow Gryffindors, and even danced with both Neville and Harry. It was a nice night. She was watching the crowd from her seat at one of the small tables, when Headmaster Dumbledore approached her.
“Good evening, Miss Granger.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Headmaster.” She smiled fondly at him.
“And to you, as well. Are you enjoying yourself this evening? I must say that you all have done a lovely job.”
“Thank you, Sir. It’s nice. Everyone seems to be having a good time.”
“Yes. Do you not have an escort this evening?”
“No, Sir.”
“I see. Well, perhaps you would do me the honor, Miss Granger, and dance with an old man.”
Hermione blushed. “Of course, Sir. I would be honored, as well.” She placed her hand in his and let him lead her to the dance floor.
It was a bit strange, but he was a spry partner, and made her smile several times with his witty commentary. Several people looked at her strangely, or with pity, but she enjoyed herself. She decided to dance with the other teachers too, when he relinquished her.
It was quite a feat, to manage Professor Flitwick, and his short stature, but a few charms helped them nicely. Professor Donnelly, the DADA instructor, stepped on her toes several times. After that, she wasn’t quite brave enough to ask Hagrid to dance, but she did share a cup of punch with him, and some lively conversation.
She saw Professor Snape standing against the far wall, with his usual forbidding expression, and smiled to herself. She excused herself from Hagrid, and made her way over to him. “Will you dance with me, Professor Snape?”
He gave her a withering look and started to deny her, but almost in spite of himself, nodded and led her to the floor. He bowed slightly and pulled her into a formal pose. He was an accomplished dancer and she found herself drifting toward him, easily following his lead. When the dance ended, she found herself held tightly in his arms, her eyes closed.
For the first time, they stumbled. He quickly pulled back and excused himself. Hermione felt as if she was spinning, as she watched him leave. She left soon after, ready for the evening to end. No one seemed to notice her absence, except maybe the headmaster, whose eyes had followed her departure.
It was still too early for her to head to bed, and she was too keyed up to sleep. She gathered her toiletries and made her way to the prefect’s bath. She relaxed in the bath and let her mind wander.
She found herself considering her dance with Professor Snape. Severus. It had felt so good to be held in his arms. She was flustered. No one had ever made her heart trip, or her limbs feel as liquid as they had in his arms. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. He was her professor. Despite the time that they spent together, she was reluctant to think of his as a friend.
Still, she couldn’t help but lose herself in the memory of their dance. She played it over and over in her mind, reliving his hands on her body. She barely noticed, when her own started to wander. It was only when she gasped aloud, and called out his name, that the pieces fell together in her mind.
She was falling in love with her professor. She wasn’t at all sure of how she felt about that knowledge.
Chapter 6
No matter how she tried to rationalize her discovery or find an alternate explanation, Hermione could not shake the idea from her mind. Nor could she figure out what she could do about this discovery. It was making her jumpy and nervous, and with was great strain that she went through the motions of her days and tried to appear as normal.
She was glad that her peers were as oblivious as ever, as she dreaded the thought that they might realize that her feelings toward their hated professor had taken a turn for the romantic. That fear was only eclipsed by the idea that Severus himself would discover their nature. During classes, she didn’t worry much. They never had acted other than strict instructor and know-it-all student in that environment. After hours was different. They were closer, more real then. She would be alone with him, and it would be so much more difficult to hide her burgeoning feelings. It was with this trepidation that she made her way to his classroom the following Thursday night.
Hermione was as nervous as a long-tailed kneazle in a room full of rocking chairs. She was acting absent-minded and could barely concentrate on the potion that they were brewing. She started whenever he would get too near her. When Professor Snape brushed against her to reach for the lotus blossoms, she blushed and stumbled, knocking a portion of dragon scales into the flame beneath her cauldron.
Luckily, he saw her actions, and pulled her back, while grabbing for his wand to contain the resulting explosion. He was successful, but it was a close call. She had almost done them both great harm. He turned her roughly to face him and began to berate her clumsiness. She burst into tears. He stood frozen in confusion, unsure of how to handle the, now sobbing, girl. He pulled her close an awkwardly patted her back, trying to calm her.
He was a bit shaken himself. He knew he had been harsh, but he had said worse to her and others, especially Longbottom, on many occasions. He had been quite justified to do so, but he was bothered by the idea that he had caused this response, despite her previous actions. She could have been badly injured, if he had not acted so quickly. Luckily, he had noticed her unusual preoccupation and kept an eye on her. He probably should have sent her on her way, but if he was honest, he knew that he enjoyed her company and was loathe to deprive himself of it.
Hermione was clinging to him now, and he embraced her tentatively. Her crying began to quiet to jagged breaths and hiccoughs. He supposed that she had been shaken by the accident, as he had. He was unsure of how he should handle this situation. He looked down at her and wondered what to do with the emotional female in his arms. It never crossed his mind that she would do what she did next.
She kissed him. It was innocent and chaste, but her lips were pressed against his. He felt himself responding, physically and emotionally to the intimacy, before he came to his senses and pulled back.
She looked just as startled as he felt. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and her eyes widened in shock. He could feel her start to panic. Severus tightened his arms around her. Instinctively, he knew she would run, if he let go. It was folly. She was his student, barely more than a child, but he wanted her. He cared for her. He was not ready to lose her – not over this.
He raised one hand to brush her hair back from her face. He wiped away her tears, in a way reminiscent of her own actions in his office. He began to speak soothingly to her, as if she were one of Hagrid’s beasts that would attack at the slightest provocation. Slowly, she began to calm and relax in his embrace. He offered her a small smile and pressed his lips to her forehead. She sighed and held him tightly in return.
They stood there like that, for the longest time, a comfortable understanding passing between them, in their silence. It was comforting to them both. Then, the moment passed. She took a deep breath and stepped back. This time he let her go.
She rubbed her hand over her face, swiping at the tears. He handed her a handkerchief. She smiled and wiped her face, and then sniffled and turned to clean up the mess that remained of the potions they had been working on, as if nothing untoward had happened. They moved in tandem, quietly returning the classroom to order.
When they were done, she gathered her things, but lingered for a moment, unable to fully look at him. Barely more than a whisper, Severus heard her say, “Thank you.”
“Good night, Hermione. Get some rest.”
“Yes, Sir. You too.” A little shocked at her statement, despite their earlier closeness, she blushed and stammered, “I mean…”
He cut her off with a simple statement, and a wave of dismissal, “I will.”
She returned to her rooms and he went to his, despite the early hour. They each went into the arms of Morpheus that night with lighter hearts and pleasant dreams.
Chapter 7
Winter passed into spring and they didn’t talk any more of what had passed between them that night. However, Hermione and Severus worked together in good spirits. If they found themselves trying to complete their tasks more quickly, to spend more time together, or stretching the limits of her curfew, it too remained unspoken. They truly enjoyed each other’s company.
During the days, however, he was still her stern professor, and she was a quieter, but still know-it-all, student. Ironically, they enjoyed even these irritating encounters. It was only on Thursday nights, alone in his classroom, or office, that they became Severus and Hermione – companions and friends. It was an acquaintance of which they both had few, and as such treasured.
It was becoming harder for them to limit such comfort to one night a week, and so, one Saturday, at the beginning of April, she decided to seek out his companionship, rather than travel to Hogsmeade with her friends and classmates. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a peculiar urgency for his company. She almost ran through the halls on her way to his rooms. Luckily, they were mostly empty; it would be unbecoming for the Head Girl to rush about so. Still, she was flushed when she knocked on his office door.
There was no answer, and that perplexed her. She thought for sure that this would be. He had mentioned the stack of post-holiday work that he had yet to mark. Perhaps, he had gone to Hogsmeade, for a break. She knew that he occasionally went there for drinks or to pick up supplies, but usually not on a day when the students would be about. However, when she had touched the door handle, she didn’t feel the usual prickle of his wards across her skin.
Cautiously, she pushed open the door, prepared to stick her head in and see if he was about. She did so, and a cry escaped her lips, in shock, as she saw him lying on the floor beside his desk, having some sort of seizure. She dropped her things and ran to him. She cradled his head in her lap and tried to remember her muggle first aid and the magical aids that she learned last year. It all seemed to slip from her mind. She had never been in a situation quite like this. She unbuttoned the top buttons of his collar and used her wand to summon a house elf.
She felt a faint shimmer of relief when Dobby quickly winked into existence beside her. “Please, Dobby, get the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey. Something’s wrong with the professor. Hurry.”
“Yes, Miss Hermione, Dobby goes quickly.” He popped out again, and she cradled Severus against her breast, and rocked with him, unaware of the tears that fell down her face.
Seconds later, Dumbledore came through the floo and quickly assessed the situation. He turned and threw more powder into the flame and called out, “Infirmary!” He stuck is head in, and Hermione vaguely heard him say, “Poppy, it’s Severus; I’m bringing him through.”
Madame Pomfrey’s reply was lost as Dumbledore turned back to them. He gently extracted Severus from her embrace and cast “Mobilicorpus.” Once again he floo’d the infirmary and then guided Severus through. Hermione followed them.
She watched silently as they settled him into a cot and Madame Pomfrey poured an indigo colored potion down his throat. He shuddered violently, and then was still – unconscious in the bed. Hermione shivered at the sight.
The slight movement drew the headmaster’s attention to her. He turned away from the figure lying against the stiff white sheets and began to question her about what had happened. She had few answers for him, but he listened closely to her recounting of events. He brushed aside her enquiries, saying only, “Professor Snape will be fine.
“You should run along, Miss Granger. Aren’t your friends in Hogsmeade today?”
“Yes, Sir, but please – May I stay for a while? I’ll be quiet. I won’t bother anyone. Please,” she pleaded.
Dumbledore pursed his lips, and looked at her consideringly. Her behavior was unusual, and he was not unaware of the scene that he had come upon in Severus’ office. He did notice that Severus seemed less restless now that Hermione had moved to hold his hand. He didn’t think that she had even realized that she had done so. It did, however, give him something to think about. He and Severus were due for a conversation once he had recovered.
Chapter 8
Hermione sat with him, for several hours, while he slept, seemingly unaware of her presence. Poppy checked on him several times. She frowned disapprovingly at the familiarity Miss Granger seemed to express toward her professor, but held her tongue – for now. The truth was that Severus did seem more relaxed in her presence, only becoming agitated the few times that she left his side to use the facilities.
Madame Pomfrey had just given Professor Snape another dose of the potion, and was about to send the girl to dinner, when Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley came through the door. She frowned at their teenage exuberance, and they offered her sheepish smiles of apology. She tutted, and left them be.
A house elf appeared, bearing dinner. “Hey, Hermione, Dumbledore said you were up here. He sent dinner. Are you sick?” Ron asked, not really noticing her position.
Harry did. He looked from her to the figure on the bed and back again, then asked steadily, “What’s going on, Hermione?”
“Nothing, Harry. I’m fine, Ron. Professor Snape is ill. I’ve been sitting with him.
“Is that dinner?” she asked, in an attempt to change the subject.
“Yup, the headmaster sent it,” Ron reiterated. “What’s Snape being sick got to do with you? I thought that you were studying.”
She gently placed Severus’ hand back on the bed and went over to the small table to eat. She wasn’t up to facing their questions, but knew it was inevitable. At least the headmaster had helped to provide a relatively private venue.
“I was studying, or at least, I was going to. I’ve been doing extra work with Professor Snape in Potions. When I went to the dungeons, I found him. Something was wrong. I called the headmaster, and we brought him here.”
“Extra Potions? You really are barmy.” Ron made a disgusted expression and turned to Harry. “Who’d want to do *extra* Potions?”
Harry had other concerns. “Why are you still here, Hermione? Why didn’t you leave when Dumbledore did?”
“I wanted to stay. Sev- Professor Snape needed someone to sit with him, and I wanted to.”
“Severus? You were going to call him Severus. What is going on here, Hermione? Don’t tell me some nonsense about extra Potions, because that really doesn’t explain why you are sitting here holding his hand, and calling him Severus.”
Ron looked back and forth between them and sputtered, turning bright red.
“I care about him. All right? Is that what you want to hear? I have been doing extra Potions, every Thursday. I help him with potions for Madame Pomfrey, or for classes. We talk about potions and journals and lots of other stuff. We spend time together.” She stated quietly, “I care about him.”
“What?” Ron said incredulously.
“What’s going on, Hermione? What’d he do to you? What are you talking about?” Harry demanded.
“Nothing’s going on, Harry. I told you. We make potions; we talk; we drink tea. He’s not the ‘overgrown bat’ that you would like to think that he is. He’s just a man. I like him, I like spending time with him.”
“Sure, he’s a man – and you’re a girl, Hermione. I can’t believe that you let him take advantage of you. I can’t believe Dumbledore would let him. What, his own life is rubbish, so he’s dragging you down with him?”
“Harry James Potter, I can’t believe that you would say that. Severus would never do that. Dumbledore and I – despite of what you seem to think – would do that.” She pushed away from the table and stood.” I think you should leave, now!”
He grabbed her arm. “You should come, too. You need to get away from him.”
“Harry, if you don’t let go of me this instant, I am going to hex you into next week.” She twisted away from him.
Ron reached for Harry, looking at Hermione sadly and with obvious disapproval, but unwilling to risk her temper. “Let’s go, mate. She’s made her choice. We need to leave, now.”
Harry glared at her and then stalked out of the room with Ron at his heels.
Hermione went back to Severus’ bed. She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and exhaled lightly. She felt Severus grab and squeeze her hand. Her eyes flew open.
“You’re awake. How long have you been awake? Should I get Madame Pomfrey? She thought of her recently departed companions. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough,” he answered roughly and squeezed her hand again.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “So, don’t you think it’s time that you told me what is going on? You scared the bejeezus out of me today. If you weren’t so sick, I’d hit you for that.”
“Violent – aren’t you, Miss Granger.”
“Don’t ‘Miss Granger’ me. I would like an explanation.”
“Really, *Miss Granger, * and what makes you think I owe you any such ‘explanation,'” he said drolly.
She smiled, recognizing the humor behind his harsh words, and glad of it. “Well, *Professor Snape, * I did save your life. In some cultures, that would mean it now belongs to me. So, I think that you are getting off lightly, since I am only asking what exactly it was that I saved you from.”
“You saved my life, huh?”
“Uh huh,” She nodded with a smile.
“I haven’t lived an /easy/ life, Hermione. The Dark Lord was not a – a kind Master. I suffered many injuries while in his service, and during the war. The Cruciatus Curse was often inflicted for punishment for my failures. As a result, I suffer from extensive nerve damage. There are potions to treat the condition, but there is no cure. We cannot repair the nerves as easily as we knit bones. However, as with any long-term application of a potion, I have begun to display a tolerance to its effects.”
“What about increasing the dosage?”
“I have done so, previously, but am loathe to continue to do so. The higher the dose, the sooner it may become ineffective altogether. Besides, in higher dosages, it has some rather unpleasant side effects. I would like to continue working for as long as possible.”
“Oh, Severus.” Hermione reached down to embrace him, and he held her gently. This is how Madame Pomfrey found them a few minutes later.
Chapter 9
They had earned them several disapproving looks from Poppy, Headmaster Dumbledore, and her friends, but Hermione continued to visit with Severus as long as he was confined to the infirmary. Severus returned to work the following Monday and Hermione returned to classes. That weekend had changed the dynamic between them, and Hermione began to spend more and more time in the dungeons. Several nights a week, she sat in the armchair in his office, revising for her NEWTS or doing her homework, while he marked assignments.
One of these nights, she finished early, put away her books, and sat watching him. She had been thinking about him a lot lately. They needed to talk, but she was unsure how to start.
He felt her stare, and provided her with an opening, “What’s on your mind, Hermione?”
“NEWTS are coming soon.”
“You don’t need me to tell you that you’ll do fine. You shouldn’t worry so much.”
“I’m not.”
He turned in his chair and faced her, waiting for her to tell him what the problem was.
“I was thinking about after. I’ve been offered a job at the Ministry. I don’t want to take it. I want to stay here – with you.”
“I see.” He steepled his fingers and looked at her assessingly.
“I mean, that I would like to stay on as your apprentice. Apprenticeship is till an acceptable means of further education, and you are in need of an assistant. Isn’t that what I have been doing the last few months – helping you and learning more about potions? I just thought that I could continue to do that, but on a more formal basis.”
“Hermione, you are still quite young. I have lived most of my life within these walls. I know what that is like, but I also know what lies beyond them. You have no such experience. I cannot accept your offer, simply, because you do not know what it is that you are offering.”
“Severus, I dislike being told that I don’t know my own mind. So, what if I am young? Did you ever realize that you could teach me? Do you really think that I would be happier, or learn more, in some little office at the Ministry?
You need help. I can give it. I want to learn. You can teach me. What is wrong with that?”
“I don’t want your pity.”
Hermione laughed and Severus stiffened in response.
“You think that I pity you? I thought that you knew me better than that. I doubt that anyone, who knows you, pities you. In case you didn’t know it, Severus, you’re a right bastard.”
“I’ll have you know, Miss Granger, that my parents were quite legally married when I was born.”
Hermione could see him struggling not to smile, despite his droll tone, and fought back her own giggles. She answered mirthfully, “Yes, dear.”
He almost spit the tea that he had just been sipping, and she lost the battle and giggled like the schoolgirl that she was.
He harrumphed and acted put upon, as he asked, “So, I am to be treated like Potter and Weasley?”
“Only when you insist on acting like them, Severus.”
“Very well. I accept your offer. You will, however, have to submit a petition to the headmaster for approval.”
“Oh.”
“Indeed.”
Silently mulling over this idea, they finished their tea and bid each other good night. Hermione was determined to see this through. Severus knew that once she had made up her mind, nothing would stand in her way. She did something that few thought was possible – she made him smile.
Despite her worries about facing Dumbledore, she submitted the petition just before the end of term. NEWTS had been completed two days previous, but as she stood in front of the gargoyle, awaiting her audience with the headmaster, her anxiety surpassed any she had felt over her exams.
She knew that the headmaster had spoken to Severus, but she was not privy to that conversation. In fact, she had little time at all with Severus the last few weeks. They had both been busy with the requirements of end of term.
She had spent more time with Harry and Ron, and had made peace with them. Hermione knew that they still didn’t understand or fully accept her relationship with Professor Snape, but they did care for her and knew that they couldn’t change her mind. They were each sad with the realization that they would soon be going their separate ways. Seven years of friendship held in good stead, and they were determined that it would not end with graduation.
However, there was still this interview to get through, and Hermione was roused from her introspection by Dumbledore’s summons. The door opened in front of her and she mounted the staircase, marshalling her arguments in her head. She had girded herself appropriately by the time she approached the headmaster’s desk.
“Have a seat, Miss Granger.”
She nodded and complied. She remained silent, and waited for him to speak. Babbling would not do her service on this occasion.
“I have your petition for apprenticeship here, Miss Granger. Professor Snape has signed it. I will be frank with you, Miss Granger. I am not altogether comfortable with the relationship that you have developed and am not sure that it is appropriate that I approve your apprenticeship under these circumstances.”
“Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect, if I am to undertake an apprenticeship, shouldn’t it be with someone that I am comfortable working with. We will be spending a lot of time together.”
“That is what I am afraid of, Miss Granger.”
“No offence, Sir, but Professor Snape needs an assistant. I can help him. This is what I want to do. We are aware of our positions and the fact that I am still a student. We respect that, but I am an adult, and I know my own mind…
… And my own heart,” she said more quietly.
“You are young, Miss Granger. There is still more for you to do and learn. It is unusual for a student to accept an apprenticeship right out of school. Normally, you would work for a few years, gaining experience and assuring that this is the field that you wish to pursue. You are a bright young which, but this is a serious commitment. I don’t wish to see you regret this decision. I would not like to see you hurt – either of you.”
“The problem is, Headmaster, that you are worried about depriving me of my opportunities, my life, but my life is with Severus, if he will have me – however he will have me. I will have an opportunity to study with one of the best Potions Masters, as well as work with some of the greatest minds in the Wizarding world, by staying at Hogwarts.
“We have discussed it. We both know that Severus cannot continue as he has been. He would rather that assistance come from me. He is used to me. I know his moods.” She allowed herself a small smile.
“Very well, Miss Granger. It seems that you are set upon this path. I will approve your apprenticeship to be effective August first. Go home this summer. Spend time with your family and friends. If you are still set on this course, you may return at that time. Apprenticeship is not an easy undertaking. Be sure that this is what you want.”
“I will. Thank you, Sir.”
“Very well, Miss Granger. You are dismissed. I will see you at the leaving feast.”
She nodded and left his office to return to Gryffindor Tower. Despite the tone of her conversation with the headmaster, her heart felt much lighter.
Chapter 10
For Hermione, graduation was a melancholy event. This was what she had worked so hard for the last seven years. At one time, it was her ultimate goal – graduation, top of her class, tons of NEWTS. She had accomplished all of that, and had new goals now. She was leaving behind one phase of her life and embarking on another.
So were those around her. So much of her school life had revolved around Harry and Ron. They were still her friends, but not with the total abandonment of childhood, but with the steadfast loyalty and dedication of adults. They were growing, changing, and beginning careers and life beyond school. They would meet partners, marry, and have children of their own. Maybe, it would not happen soon, but eventually. This chapter of their lives was drawing to a close.
Ron brought her a glass of punch, and interrupted her thoughts. “Guess this is it, ‘Professor’ Granger.”
Harry laughed and so did she. “Not yet, Ron, not for a few years.”
“Yeah, but we should have known, Hermione. After all, you’ve been trying to teach us for years,” Harry spoke up.
She playfully hit him on the shoulder. “You should be thanking me. You’re going into the Auror’s Academy, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Then he spoke seriously. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Don’t be silly, guys. Of course you could have,” Hermione rebuked.
“Maybe, but it wouldn’t have been near as much fun.”
“Fun, Ron? Hmm, you were singing a different tune a few weeks ago, as I recall. ‘But, Hermione, my brain hurts'” she parodied, placing the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically.
“Very funny,” Ron replied. “I’m just glad its over. I thought this year was never going to end.”
“Oh, so happy to get rid of us then, Ron?” Hermione asked with a devilish expression.
“No! No, but a guy can just take so much studying and tests before he goes mad. Can’t believe that you signed up for three more years of this stuff.
“What am I saying?” he slapped his forehead. “Of course, you did. How’d I end up best friends with a girl who thinks spending all her time in the library is fun?” he teased her with a smile.
“As you very well know, Ron, I didn’t spend all of my time in the library.”
“Yeah, she spent the rest of her time with Snape,” Harry offered helpfully. His expression was one of practiced innocence.
Ron interrupted quickly. That issue was still too a little raw to be a joke. “Speaking of Snape – Did you hear? The sixth years are talking about making the auction an annual tradition. Everyone is still talking about bidding on the professors.”
“Yeah, seems like Professor Snape is going to have to go back on the block.”
“He’s not for sale, ” she answered primly.
Harry and Ron both laughed.
“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Harry told her. “I doubt you’ll have any problem with the competition.
She smiled and looked around for the man in question. She spotted him stepping out the door to the rose garden. She sat her cup down and kissed them both on the cheek, “Excuse me, boys.”
“Yeah, Hermione, go get him.” Harry gave her a friendly shove. He had been trying to show his support since they had patched things up.
She did just that, following Severus though the door that he had escaped through moments before. She approached him quietly. He stood so still, his head tilted back, looking at the stars. She walked up to stand next to him and slipped her hand into his.
He brought his other hand across to grasp it in both of his. A slight smile crossed his face, as they stood together in comfortable silence. The stars shone down on them brightly.
The End.
The measure of love is compassion; the measure of compassion is kindness. ~Anonymous
Author’s Notes Redux: Thus ends my first HG/SS story. It has been so much fun to tackle these two. They have already inspired several plot bunnies, and I have another story in the works. Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and to all of my wonderful reviewers at Ashwinder, who watched and cheered me on as this story took shape. It’s been my pleasure.