Beneath the Surface

Beneath the Surface

Chapter the Eighthe: When Water Won\'t Put Out The Fire


The rest of Hermione\'s First Year at Hogwarts passed in a blur of anxiety and stress. The Dark side, namely Voldemort acting through their Professor Quirrell (an unexpected discovery, at best), finally closed in on herself, Harry and Ron, and all three of them went after it instinctively. They followed it past the dreaded Fluffy, through the suffocating Devil\'s Snare, beyond the door with the enchanted key, and over the human-sized wizard\'s chess board, where Ron was finally felled and Harry had asked Hermione to keep watch over him while he went on to defeat Quirrell/Voldemort. Though she worried for Harry\'s safety, a voice within her said that he would be alright, and that he needed to go forth alone to face whatever evil lay beyond. Now, Hermione was not one to listen to ‘little inner voices\', but they were in a very tense situation, Ron was unconscious, and the serious, confident look in Harry\'s eyes had been more than enough to convince her that he was prepared to face his destiny alone. The little speech she gave him about the advantages of being ageoageous and loyal over being intelligent and studious was, in retrospect, a rather pathetic, if heartfelt, occurrence that she chalked up to the extreme duress she had been under when she gave it.

One thing she was incredibly glad for after all was said and done was that Snape\'s innocence in the entire matter was now a fact to Harry, Ron and all who might have doubted him. Though it very well could have swayed their belief in his guilt, Hermione had never mentioned the discussion she\'d had with their Potions Master on the night after the quidditch tournament to Harry and Ron. Somehow she knew that her Professor would have wanted her to keep it from them and everyone else; as if it were a rare moment of vulnerability he had shown to her that he wouldn\'t want anyone else to know he were even capable of, despite the fact that it would have brought his innocence to light and probably even improve his general reputation among the students as well.

But aside from that, she never had secrets all to herself, not really, and she really liked the idea of having her very own secret between herself and the darkest, most mysterious man in the entire school. Even though it wasn\'t really a *secret* secret, when she considered it; just an unusually candid conversation.
Hermione felt connected to him somehow after that, as if an intangible yet iron cast thread that ran from one mind to the other had joined the unlikely two. She had never felt such a connection with anyone, not even her parents, and she vowed that however this strange relationship between herself and Professor Snape developed, she would forever strive to keep it intact. She could only hope that he valued her company as much as she did his.

On their last day of school, only hours before the children were to depart, Hermione made herself a thousand excuses for her need to say good-bye to her Potions Professor before they were inevitably, if temporarily, separated by the long months of summer, but found herself at his door armed with only the raw urge to see him itself.

She held her breath and dredged up all the courage she possessed before knocking on the door. There was a long pause, and Hermione\'s lungs felt about to burst from lack of air as her heart plummeted to her stomach with a sickening emptiness.

‘I *so* wanted to see him just once before we left...\'

But before she turned and walked away with her head hung low, a soft yet commanding ‘Enter\' was uttered from within the chamber in her Professor\'s unmistakably resonant voice. Her heart flew from her stomach and caught in her throat, and she let out a long-awaited breath before quickly opening the door and peeking her head into the classroom. It was completely empty, save for Snape himself, whose presence somehow made an unoccupied room seem even more barren than it would if it were completely devoid of humanity.

He was leafing through some parchments as he stood before his desk, positioned so she could see his entire form in perfect profile (he had evidently dispensed with the formality of actually facing his visitors long ago, if ever he\'d done so at all). But instead of scowling obdurately at life in general, his expression was relaxed by a tentative calmness that seemed rather foreign to his being. Perhaps he was relieved that the school year was over.

The dungeon classroom, normally so dark that it had to be constantly lit by numerous candelabra, was now illuminated only by the dazzling afternoon sght ght that flooded through the high, large windows cut from the castle stone. One window was located beyond and over Snape\'s desk, and the rays of thght ght that passed through it fell just behind where he stood, its edges resting tenderly against his back like the longing embrace of a forgotten paramour. His ebony hair shimmered invitingly under its blazing touch, and the sight of him languishing against it caused Hermione to wonder strangely, ‘Whoever said the light was not a friend to Severus Snape?\'

Hermione could now recognize the tendrils of reverence that streamed themselves around her mind when she considered Snape thus as the beginnings of the burgeoning obsession she occasionally developed for the man–i.e., that silly crush was coming back again. And she\'d better just say what she came to say now before it took full hold over her senses, which would make her summer without him simply unbearable.

\"Professor?\" Hermione called out to him tremulously, afraid that she was disturbing him (and she knew what kind of a fate befell those who intruded on his blessed solitude).

\"Miss Granger,\" he greeted her in a tone that suggested he\'d been aware of her presence even though he hadn\'t once looked in her direction. In fact, he sounded almost amused. As Hermione pondered the possible reasons for this, Snape rolled his eyes heavenward, barely containing his smile at the girl\'s peculiar ways.

\"Are you going to come in, or aren\'t you?\" he snapped at her, feigning irritation. When he saw from his peripheral vision that Hermione was only gaping at him like a startled fish out of water, he gave an exasperated sigh and finally turned his head to glare sharply at her. \"Well, come on, girl! Didn\'t your mother ever teach you that it\'s rude to lurk in doorways? And close that door behind you; I don\'t want any of that dreadful castle air getting in here.\"

Hermione pressed her lips tightly together to keep from smiling, for she knew he was joking with her (he must be! No one could honestly be so cantankerous). She pulled the heavy door closed and it shut with a muffled thud. A dense silence ensued between them momentarily, in which every movement either of them made created tiny echoes throughout the dungeon. Though it was certainly not their first time alone together, Hermione had never been more aware of it than now. Or of the possibilities that could arise from such a situation.

Snape sensed the fervid tension that brewed within the girl (he could verily smell it, so attuned had his senses become to those of another), and he frowned to himself as he considered its cause.

‘Strange little thing....It feels almost as if she\'s readying herself for a tryst.\' His eyes darkened imperceptibly, and they slid away from the timid girl, who, thankfully, did not seem to take note of his intense deliberation as she was too busy blinking at her shoes. ‘No....She wouldn\'t dare. She is but a child!....Perhaps I\'m losing my touch...\'

Snape cleared his throat, refocusing on Hermione. He wanted to abandon that line of thought there and then and never come across it again, so did it disturb him, and in so many ways.

\"Miss Granger, I suggest you state your business here, and in a succinct and timely manner at that. I am certain that you are as eager to rid yourself of this place as well as of myself, and your time of departure draws ever nearer with each moment that you waste here.\"

Hermione just stared at him blankly for a moment. ‘Can\'t he *ever* just SAY something straight out?! Of course, the way he speaks is so very elegant and clever---\'. Hermione cleared her throat as well, immediately cutting off that train of thought. And then paused. Of course, when one makes a show of noising their vocal chords, it is only to be expected that they wish to say something of note. And Hermione had no idea how to say what she wanted here. She cleared her throat again; best to start over.

\"Well, sir,\" she began seriously. \"As you know, the end of the year is fast coming to a close, and I don\'t think I\'d be entirely wrong in thinking—in saying, that we...that you and I, have become...\"

\"Miss Granger, do get on with it!\" Snape barked at her. \"Is this a discussion or a persuasive essay?!\" Hermione swallowed audibly.

\"Forgive me, sir, I just don\'t quite know how to say this,\" she said with a tinge of misery coloring her voice as she lowered her head. Snape frowned again, regretting his rude comments to her. He moved closer to her, folding his arms loosely across his chest. An earnest glow shone dimly within his black eyes, allowing the tiniest hint of concern to show in his otherwise somber face as he looked down upon her.

\"Forgive *me*, Miss Granger,\" he said tiredly. \"I spoke too rashly. Tell me, child, what is it?\" When she said nothing (had her face not been hidden from him, he would have seen a mixture of both surprise and disquiet therein), he went on. \"Miss Granger, though circumstances would imply that I am what many think me to be: to put it rather politely, a heartless blackguard—and I admit I\'ve done precious little to prove myself to be otherwise—I assure you that I am neither blind nor...immoveable to the suffering of others.\"

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink into Hermione as well as deliberating what to say next. Hermione\'s face, though still down-turned, had become completely expressionless as she listened to him; he was actually reaching out to her, in his reserved way, and she wanted to take in every single word of his distant empathy. No one had ever even attempted to identify with her inmost feelings, and she was absorbing his every syllable like a plant taking its first drink of water after a long drought.

\"I have noticed—we\'ve all noticed, all of your Professors—that, though you are...quite intelligent, you are an unusually serious little girl.\" Here Snape cradled his chin between his thumb and forefinger. \"I hope you are not taking offense to what I am saying, Miss Granger, and if you are, please tell me so at once.\"
Hermione only shook her head very slowly and silently; rather like a zombie or some such lifeless creature. Snape frowned again, but continued on.

\"Very well. As I was saying, you are mature beyond your years, not only in your work and in class, but in the way you...carry yourself. Do you understand what I mean?\"
Again, the torpid nod.

\"Good. Now, Miss Granger...,\" Snape faltered. He didn\'t want to intimate himself too deeply with the child, but he felt that if she were to trust him enough to inform him of any problem she was having that was interfering with her general happiness, he would have to let her know that he understood whatever could be amiss with her. And the best way to do this was to give the person some personal information that could possibly correspond with whatever difficulties they might be having, and let them know that they are not alone in their sorrow.

‘Merlin, why do I feel the need to communicate with this child?\'
Snape inhaled the air deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he was ready to speak.

\"Miss Granger, I want you to know that when I was a...child, I, myself, was...overly serious in nature. About everything.\" He felt her tense ever so slightly, as if she was responding favorably to what he was saying. Encouraged, he went on. \"The...difficulties that I experienced were, no doubt, different than what you know in your own life, but the...pain, that such things cause is akin in every soul. And the pain I experienced was very great.\"

Snape paused for a minute, his eyelids lightly touching as the ill-concealed torments of his childhood flashed behind his eyes. The breath he took to calm himself this time was just audible to human ears. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as well as a torrent of incoherent red anguish ripped through her mind. When a singularly empathetic being is this close to another, they can sense and experience especially strong feelings as if they were their own, if but for only a moment. And this moment was horrendously bleak and empty for Hermione, and though it did pass quickly, its image would stay forever burned into her brain. After Snape exhaled long and silently, he spoke again.

\"I am telling you this so that you can understand that I know how...alone you feel. When a person is...gifted with intelligence superior to and emotions more intense than those of an average human being, life as a whole can indeed be a very desolate and lonely experience. But Miss Granger...\". And here Snape paused for a moment before tentatively reaching out his pale, graceful hand with its spidery fingers and placing them gently under Hermione\'s chin. She saw it coming towards her face as if it were part of a specter in a dream, and she shivered faintly as the long, cool fingers finally made contact with her warm skin. But she did not struggle when he gripped her jaw softly and slowly lifted her face until it met his, until she was looking into his eyes.

Though his expression remained grim, his heart leapt at the sight of her small, upturned face, so solemn and fragile. Her tiny mouth was parted so her pink tongue was just visible beyond her endearingly crooked yet white teeth, her features having gone somewhat slack from his unexpected words and even more impulsive touch. But her eyes were so overwhelmingly bright and intense as they penetrated into his, too brilliant for such a young child. He knew as he looked into them that she was molded from the same clay as he, forged in the same fire. Whatever implements had been used in this life to carve the individual marks in their flesh, they would forever be joined, be *connected* to each other beneath the surface of the skin, for they had been created by the same hand.

\"Hermione,\" Snape breathed, his breath dry and odorless as it ghosted onto her face, and his features slowly changed into an expression of the deepest sorrow and regret as he stroked her chin tenderly with his thumb. \"Though the flames of curiosity lick torturously at your very being, do not seek to put them out with the waters of knowledge and ecstasy borne of this Earthly plane. Though they will put out the fire and numb your pain, the relief will be but brief, and each time the fire is lit again within you, it will burn with that much more intensity!\"

Confusion caused her eyelids to flutter, and Snape shut his as he sighed unevenly. He knew that she could not possibly understand all of this now, not while she was still so innocent.

\"Look at me,\" he said, trying another approach. \"See my anger, see my frustration, see my sorrow. You do not want to become this.\"

After he said this, his features slowly lost their zealous quality, quickly dulling until his face relaxed back into a sober expression. His eyes moved past Hermione\'s, and stared distantly at something she couldn\'t see. He loosened his grip on her chin and his hand slowly dropped to his side. Hermione watched its descent regretfully, her brow furrowing as she tried to comprehend his words.

All of a sudden, the rush of several dozen pounding footfalls whooshed past the door, accompanied by childish whooping and hollering. The school year had officially ended, and it was time for Hermione to leave.
Both she and Snape came back to themselves at once and straightened their postures. Hermione stole a doleful glance up at Snape, who appeared to be fiercely contemplating her. Her eyebrows shot up and she blinked several times, alarmed by his sudden renewed mental alacrity.

‘I reaaaaaaally shouldn\'t have said all that to her...\'.

He\'d thought he had a rein on his tempestuous emotions by now. That he could at least deceive a student into thinking that he was nothing more than a foul-tempered, malicious git. rentrently not so. He was furious at himself! In fact, he could barely contain his rage at this moment, and he knew that if he didn\'t get the girl out of his classroom—out of the school!—right this minute that he would vent his rancor on her. And he did not want that to happen, he couldn\'t let himself do that to her. Not now that he knew they were spiritually connected—

\"*Ahem* Miss Granger,\" he announced suddenly. The girl started to attention and stared at him expectantly. But he could not bring himself to look at her as he said: \"Have an enjoyable summer holiday, and I\'ll see you next term.\"

And with a swirl of his robes, he pivoted and stalked purposefully to his office, swiftly entering and slamming the door behind him. He hadn\'t looked back once.

Hermione remained still as a rod for approximately five minutes, her mouth agape (yes, like a fish) as she stared at the door to his office in disbelief. Finally, she began to sputter.

\"What!? How—where—you—I—I—I DON\'T BELIEVE HIM!!!\" she screamed into the air in exasperation, not caring whether Snape heard her or not. It was just as bloody well if he did, as far as she was concerned! His behavior was absolutely, positively and without a doubt inexcusable! How could he delve into her mind, gain her trust, completely rope her in and thed hed her good day as if nothing whatsoever had occurred between them?! She just didn\'t understand it. The audacity! The nerve! The WEIRDNESS!!!

Hermione concentrated every ounce of fury that wrung throughout her body on Snape\'s office door, just stared daggers into it. If looks could kill, and pass through walls, Snape would be but a charred, sizzling corpse at that moment.

\"I HOPE YOU HAVE THE WORST SUMMER HOLIDAY OF YOUR LIFE, SNAPE!!!\" she screeched, her voice reaching a decibel that only pre-adolescent girls could possibly attain. Then she immediately turned and stalked out of the potions classroom, seizing both its doors and then hurling them as hard as she possibly could against their hinges. The resulting crash nearly split each door down its middle and resounded throughout the dungeons and most of the upper floor; a fitting cacophony for her dramatic exit.

Little did Hermione know as she made her way to the carriages with Harry and Ron, fighting admirably to both calm and conceal her thoughts the entire way (as her two friends stoically ignored her rather painfully obvious inner torment), that her now reviled Professor Snape was sitting alone in his bottle-and-body-part-filled office, smiling ruefully to himself as he brooded about the once-blossoming relationship between himself and his brilliant, young student and her inevitable, yet necessary, expulsion from his personal life. Though this incident greatly saddened him, indeed more than he cared to admit to himself at present, he could not stop a disturbing thought from nagging at his mind.

‘I just had a lovers\' spat with an eleven-year-old...\'.