The Diary

A/N: I didn\'t want to keep you waiting too long for the final installments of this.
~~~~

Fuck. A slight slip of the tongue. “I said that I’ve dreamt about you.”

“No, you said, ‘I’ve dreamt about you, too’ What the hell do you mean by that? That you’ve dreamt about me ‘too’? she hissed at him.

Caught off guard by her sudden anger, he went on the offensive. “You were the one who sent me the damn diary. You know what I’m talking about,” he hissed back.

Her anger came full-force: “What?!? I never sent you anything, diary or otherwise. What diary did you think you got from me, anyway?” she asked suspiciously.

He tried to grab her hand to take her over to the bookshelf, where the diary was, but she pulled away from him. He snatched up the diary and thrust it at her. “Here! You’re going to try to tell me that you didn’t send me this enchanted diary? That you didn’t want me to read about your erotic dreams?” His voice was getting louder with each word, as his anger, coupled with a gnawing fear, grew inside him.

Hermione took the book from his hands, and flipped through it, the look of dread on her face becoming more and more pronounced.

She exploded on him, “You bastard! You read my diary, all through my senior year, and never said a thing? Bastard!”

Snape’s voice took on a menacing, mocking tone, “What was I supposed to say,? \'Oh excuse me, Miss Granger, I’ve been reading your diary, and I really like the juicy bits, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped referring to me as a ‘black-hearted bastard’?” He paused. “Or were you just expecting me to approach you and tell you that the dream that you had the other night really turned me on?”

“Why did you keep reading it?” she hissed.

“Why did you send it to me, if you didn’t want me to read it?” he growled back.

“I didn’t send it, you bastard. And yet you kept reading it. No wonder you were so fucking miserable to me in class all that year – you hated how I kept talking about how wonderful it was going to be to work with Ole, and get the hell out of here!” She matched his hostile tone.

“No, ‘Miss Granger’,” his voice became an ominous whisper, “I thought that you had a crush on me, and I was trying to get it out of your system. The hard way.”

She looked at him, incredulously. “A crush? Are you insane? I couldn’t help the dreams that I was having. Sure, maybe at one point, I might have wondered what you’d really be like, but by the power of Odin, I didn’t have a crush on you!”

“Then why did you come to see me, right before you left Hogwarts? If you don’t remember, I can read it to you,” he sneered.

The color drained out of her face. Her voice became little more than a sob. “Fuck you. I don’t know what I thought I saw in you. And I have no idea why I ever thought that you might have some emotion in you.” She paused, not sure if she directed the next words at herself, or at him. “I’m sorry.” Her voice a whisper, she walked to his door, tears in her eyes.

With his long legs, he made it to the door before she did. Gods! What the hell had he just done?!? His voice was much softer when he spoke. “Wait. I’m not going to let you kiss me and disappear again. Not this time.” He paused. “I don’t know who sent me the diary, but I am going to find out. I might have been wrong in reading the diary—“

She cut him off, her voice clipped, “Just let me go. I won’t disturb you again,” she said hoarsely.

He grabbed her wrist as she tried to push past him. His own voice was tight, “You are not leaving, Hermione. I made the mistake last time of letting you walk out my door, and I didn’t talk to you again for 5 years. I’m not letting you walk out the door this time. Last time,” he paused, “last time, I let you go, without telling you how much I wanted to pull you into my arms, and show you that I could be the man you imagined. But I let you walk out the door, with you thinking that I didn’t give a damn. And I let you leave thinking that I was a real bastard.” He took a breath. “I might be a real bastard to most people, Hermione, but I didn’t want to be a real bastard to you.” He stopped, his face troubled. “I’ve done a lot of things that I am not at all proud of. Burtiurting you that spring was the worst thing that I have done. It was so hard, watching you walk out the door, knowing what you thought about me.”

He looked at her, and brought his other hand to her chin. “I don’t want you to go. Please,” he whispered.

Hermione’s face burned as she thought of all that she had written that year. The embarrassment, the humiliation that he knew the entire time what she was thinking burned through her. She couldn’t face him. “I need some time. Alone. I can’t deal with this…” She tried to move past him again, her voice catching in her throat.

His voice was still soft, but there was steel in it. “Hermione. You are not listening to me. I am not letting you walk out on me again. I missed my chance once, but I am not a man to make the same mistake twice. The students will be arriving soon, and as Head of Slytherin, I am expected to be in the Great Hall when they arrive. Which mean that you will be there, too. Because. I. Am. Not. Letting. You. Kiss. Me. And. Then. Leave…. Not. Again.”

The intensity of his words struck her, and she paused. Finally, she looked at him, and a small smile came to her lips.

“What?” he asked her, a little more roughly than entirely necessary.

“I don’t think I’ve quite had emotional swings like this since I was, well, since I was in my 7th year.”

A smile flickered briefly across his face, as well. “I’d have to agree with you. I haven’t this much turmoil since you were a 7th year, either.”