Accidental Encounters

Chapter Eleven: The Second Match of the Minds

Hermione had been off balance when she first caught sight of Snape sitting at the workbench, but when he spoke to her, she found herself, for once, completely at a loss. This was not the man who used to be so annoyed by her very presence, the man who seemed put out to have met her in Hogsmeade, only escorting her through the streets because he was a gentleman. This Snape kept surprising her, and all of her intelligent thoughts on the Intimoritus Potion went flying out of her head.

A silence gaped, and Hermione felt herself rooted to the spot. At last, Snape spoke again, and this time he did sound slightly annoyed. “Well? I could hardly give you a more personal invitation.”

The return of his usual biting tone signaled a more comfortable normalcy, allowing Hermione to unfreeze herself and stride over to a chair opposite the Potions Master.

She was settled and pulling out reams of parchment – both Snape’s notes and additional ones she had made – when she realized she still hadn’t spoken to him. She flushed slightly, annoyed at herself for maksuchsuch a terrible beginning, and stammered out, “So… how are you, Professor?”
“Severus.” He said quickly, before looking alarmed at his hastiness. He continued, more softly, “or … Professor … Whichever you prefer…”

Again pleased that the man seemed to value her as an equal and important part of the project, Hermione smiled and tried out his name for only the second time. “Alright, Severus. And if you would like, please call me Hermione.”
For a fleeting moment there was the ghost of a smile of the man’s lips, but he quickly wiped it off and scowled, “Fine. Hermione, then.”
Again, a gaping silence arose between them, both of them avoiding the others’ eyes. Hermione was beginning to wonder if they would get any work done at this rate, so she took a deep breath and asked, “Shall we begin?”

And with that, they did.

It wasn’t long before they had become engrossed in their work, and Hermione was surprised to find that they agreed on most things. The only point where they differed was on that fateful role of the moon. Severus felt that the light of the full moon was essential to activate the incantion, but Hermione had seen the results of that first hand, and felt there must be a way around it.

Thus began a fierce debate, and the fact that being on first-name terms had seemed to remove some of the boundaries between them, neither hesitated in arguing hotly.

Hermione felt herself growing rapidly frustrated. She tried not to sound bossy as she told him, “Just because moonshine was a key factor in the creation of the Intimoritus doesn’t mean it must activate the antidote. Look at the Marsalas Potion. It requires sunlight to activate it, but the antidote is a simple, first year potion.”
“Yes, but the antidote to the Marsalas aims to address symptoms, and not the cause. With this potion we are aiming to completely reverse the effects – wiping the slate clean, as ire. re. Your argument is flawed.” Severus looked as though he, too, were only just keeping a lid on his temper, because he had begun to speak in that soft, dangerous voice again.

The row was brought to an abrupt halt by the sounding of the bells for tea, and Hermione’s face mirrored Severus’ startled expression as they realized how quickly the day had disappeared.

Snape quickly recomposed his face, and offered his hand to Hermione. Suddenly quite formal, he said, “Well, Miss Granger. We shall continue this another time. I regret that we have let time get away from us. Perhaps you would care to stay for a meal?”

Hermione searched his face, and finally accepted with a small smile. She was interested to see what other surprises this man had in store.

On the trip up to the Great Hall, though, Snape remained silent, and was careful to keep a wide distance between them. When they encountered the first students in the halls, his mild expression immediately turned sour, and he stalked off without another word.

Left to her own devices, and admittedly slightly disappointed, Hermione went to make her way into the hall, but she was suddenly accosted from behind. A flash of red was all she saw before being enveloped in a wild hug. When she surfaced, Ron was grinning widely.

“Whatcha doing here, ‘Mione?”
“Oh, um. I came for a visit and lost track of the time.”
Ron accepted this, and asked brightly, “So, shall we dine, m’lady?” Hermione couldn’t help laughing when Ron was being silly, and found herself settled at the High Table between Professor McGonagall and her best friend. McGonagall was thrilled to see Hermione, and peppered her with questions about her new job. Fortunately though, Dedoredore soon engaged the vivacious woman in a separate conversation, and Hermione casually asked Ron about Penny.

If she had suspected the previous night that they might get on, she had quite underestimated them. After dinner, Penny and Ron had left Hermione happily settled with the notes from Professor Snape. What she didn’t know, however, was that Ron had found his way back to Penny’s place, and had spent the night being entertained by her brood, just like Hermione herself often was.

Hermione watched his face glow as he spoke animatedly of Penny and her children, and she knew that his crush on her was a thing of the past. And for her part, she was genuinely pleased that Ron and Penny seemed to have found each other. They seemed a good match.

Ron was busy telling her, “I know there is a bit of an age difference, but she says I am really mature, so its probably won’t be a biggie, won’t it? I mean, I haven’t really asked her anything yet.” He paused momentarily to snatch a breath before continuing his diatribe. “And I feel so at home in her family – it is just like how I grew up at home, although the poor woman has to do it all herself…”

She involuntarily tuned out, though, when Professor Snape finally marched through the doors. He skirted around the back of the Slytherin students, and, ignoring everyone else at the High Table, seated himself on the far end and quietly began to eat.

Hermione marveled at the trormaormation in him. His hair now hung down by his face again, and he wore his trademark scowl. He looked as though he would rather be anywhere but surrounded by a bunch of silly children. In fact, Hermione suspected he would much rather be locked away in the workroom, working on the antidote. In many ways he was just like her – only happy when there was something to be learnt, a mystery to be solved. Just like her, research would have been his ideal career. Fate, it would seem, had dictated otherwise.

She realized she had been openly staring at the Professor when he looked up at her, and sent one of his patented glares her way. This time, though, she knew enough about that illusion to be able to stand her ground. Beside her, Ron quivered like a first year, and she heard him mutter something about “greasy git”. She wished she had the words to share with him how that was just for show. The real Snape, she knew, was quite different.

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Thank you all for your kind reviews. I will try to update regularly, but I am on the precipice of term exams, and I am sure you can appreciate how that tends to disrupt your regular schedule.

On that, in response to a reviewer: I decided not to send Hermione to University, because Rowling herself has said there is no Wizarding Uni. I am therefore trying to explore some of the other possibilities out there for life after Hogwarts.