Flame of Existence

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NOTE: I normally update once a week on Fridays (or Saturdays).

FLAME OF EXISTENCE
/ by Bella

Chapter Twelve

Hermione didn’t stop walking until she was safely situated between Parvati and Dean in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It wasn’t until then that she let out the breath held captive between her lips – she was on safe ground.

No doubt the confused and curious stares from the other students were a result of Hermione ignoring a direct request from none other than Professor Snape. However, the fact that Professor Snape himself didn’t act on punishing the insubordinate witch might have also raised a few eyebrows, including those of the Slytherin house.

When Professor Lupin walked in and began the lesson, Hermione rested her chin on her hand and carefully droned out the deep tones of his voice. The lack of sleep from the previous night was really starting to take a toll on her, not to mention the fact that her stomach had yet to stop growling.

Sighing deeply, Hermione fell into a light, dreamless nap that went unnoticed by everyone in the room except Professor Lupin and Harry. Both of them mutually agreed to not draw attention to the restless witch by waking her, so the lesson went on as planned.

The distant sound of a ringing bell brought Hermione out of her slumber, and she stood along with the rest of the students. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she ignored the once-again curious looks from her peers.

Of course she realized that she was bringing more attention to herself by doing the things she was doing, but at that moment in time, she really didn’t care. Blessed with a free period, Hermione went straight back to her rooms where she found a moody raven tapping at her common room window holding a folded piece of parchment in its beak.

Hermione opened the window and allowed the great, black bird inside and gently took the paper from its beak. Her brows furrowed together as she read the small and precise writing scribbled there.

Miss Granger,

Seeing as you have a free period before lunch, please report to my classroom ten minutes before the lunch hour begins. Failure to do so will result in another month’s worth of detentions with Argus Filch, and I will, of course, notify the Headmaster of your recent... actions.

Professor Snape


Hermione picked up a quill and scribbled beneath his note:

Sir,

Seeing as I’m am not feeling well at the moment, could this little meeting be rescheduled to a different time?

- H.Granger


Hermione took a seat on the soft chair beside the window and waited the response. She knew that he wouldn’t let her reschedule. Snape didn’t do anything that was out of the ordinary for himself. He wore black everyday, allowed the steam and smoke from the potions to mix in with his hair and let it look greasy, and took at least fifty points from Gryffindor every class.

He obviously had something to say to Hermione, but she didn’t really want to know what. Her stomach was already bottoming out and she felt nauseous at the thought of having to face the wizard who had cost her a full night’s sleep the previous evening.

Not too long after Hermione had sent the raven back, it reappeared looking even more agitated. Hermione took the note from the bird and gave it an owl treat, not knowing if it would like it. When it started nibbling at the treat, Hermione glanced at the parchment and scowled.

Ten minutes before lunch, Miss Granger. No later, no excuses.

Sighing, Hermione shoo’d the bird off once again, this time empty handed, and plopped back down on the chair. She glanced at the clock that was bewitched onto the wall and frowned. She didn’t have much longer until she was expected to be back down in the dungeons with the little meeting with Professor Snape.

She groaned when thinking of the many possibilities of what was to come. Surely he wouldn’t come on to her, right? The soft whispering of her sub conscience constantly reminded her of her dream, ringing up sayings like, ‘Whore. Whore. Whore.’ and ‘Too fast. Way too fast.’

The seconds hand on the clock ticked ominously as she sat there staring off into space. Before she knew it, it was ten minutes before she was due to be in the dungeons and she was rushing out of the door. The last thing Hermione wanted was to be late again.

She arrived to the dungeon classroom on time and was surprised to see the classroom empty, save for the teacher himself. Hermione had been sure that Snape wanted to humiliate her, the Head Girl, in front of his younger students.

Hermione slowly made her way through the lab stations to the front of the classroom where he was perched in the seat behind his large, maple desk. The rapid beating of her heart seemed like a drum in her ears playing over and over again– foreign, and very unwanted.

At the motion of his hand, Hermione sunk down into the chair placed in front of his desk and stared at her folded hands.

Snape, sitting across from her, with both arms overlapped in front of his chest, stared at her with interest. He didn’t want to classify her as anything, but her behavior as of late had become... colorful. One minute she’s depressed and distant, the next she’s bouncing around, and then after that she’s trying to stick her tongue down your throat. He didn’t get it, and he wondered if it was all due to teenage hormones.

“Miss Granger, you were late to my class this morning,” Snape started evenly, watching as the witch slowly raised her head to look at him. “I do believe that I have spoken to you and your... friends before on my late policy.”

“I–“ She stopped and looked away, not wanting to argue. If he decided to give her more detentions with Filch, then so be it. He would have already made up his mind, anyway.

Snape sneered. “Do you have something you wish to say, Miss Granger?”

Hermione looked back at him, and with all the balls she could muster, glared back at him. “I guess I’m sorry for being late to your class, Professor.”

“You guess?”

“I guess,” she repeated, folding her arms over her chest, as if mocking him. Her eyes narrowed in realization. He was taunting her. “May I go now?”

“No,” he stated firmly, leaning in and looking at her. “You, Miss Granger, also ignored my calls after you this morning. If you hadn’t ignored me, you wouldn’t have to be sitting across from me now, with a look on your face that expresses your... displeasure in being here.”

Hermione made a noise close to a snort. “I’m sorry if you are offended by my not taking pleasure in your company at the moment, sir.”

“At the moment, Miss Granger? Why, I believe it was only yesterday that you had insisted on snogging me. If I didn’t know better, I would say that you’ve had a change of heart.” His voice didn’t sound disappointed, more amused. He waited for her reaction with ease, his black eyes flicking over the features of her countenance.

Hermione had almost flinched when he said ‘snogging’. It was unlike Professor Snape to say anything of the sort, let alone remind her of her mistakes. After the nightmare she had the night before, Hermione couldn’t do anything but doubt her previous actions.

Hermione looked away from his piercing stare, and her insides seemed to clench and throw her forward, because she ended up throwing her head in her hands, which were supported by her elbows on her knees.

She was determined not to cry, not to show any sign of weakness around this wizard who thrived off of power. She didn’t want to give him an excuse to taunt her further, to get into her thoughts without magic.

Hermione knew that if she cracked, then she would be compelled to tell Snape everything. And, at the moment, that was the very last thing she wanted to do.

Before she could even stop it, a lone tear trickled down from her eyelid and into the palm of her hand, where it sat squished between the delicate skin of her face and the tougher, yet still soft, skin of her hand.

It seemed like only a second had passed when Hermione felt a warm hand come to rest on her shaking shoulders. Only a minute when that same hand pulled her into the embrace of the Professor, who, in turn, seemed torn between wanting to comfort the witch, and wanting to physically eject her from his classroom.

Hermione rested her head on his shoulders and cried. She was split between two actions. One side of her yelled to get the hell out of his embrace:

Whore.

The other part of her reminded her of how content she felt there, how right it seemed, to be standing in the middle of the potions classroom in the arms of her teacher.

Hermione pulled back and wiped her eyes, a bit embarrassed. She had been reluctant to even express her emotions in the first place, and yet there she stood staring up at her professor. She was waiting for him to launch into some horrendous stream of insults and flames.

They never came. Instead, the Potions Master lifted his long and elegant, yet stained and calloused, hand to wipe away a stray tear from her cheek.

“What troubles you, Hermione?” It would seem that Snape was surprised at his sudden change in name for the teary witch standing so near to him, for his eyes widened for the briefest of seconds.

Hermione didn’t realize that her throat had been constricted, and she let out a wobbly breath before she spoke. “I... I am confused.”

Snape, with his hand on her back, directed her back to the seat she had been sitting in minutes before. He grabbed another chair and placed it down beside hers and looked at her thoughtfully.

“What is confusing you?”

Hermione didn’t know if she was doing the right thing, but for the first time in her seven years at Hogwarts, Hermione saw a flicker of encouragement in Severus Snape’s eyes. So, she decided to go for it.

“You, my dreams... everything. I–“ she suddenly felt foolish for wanting to say that she fancied him. “I- had this dream, last night. And, it was weird, because it wasn’t about Draco.”

She looked away, knowing that her eyes would soon fill and her lip would start trembling.

The hand– the same one that had found its way onto her shoulder before to comfort her, was now on her forearm, squeezing gently. Hermione shut her eyes and let out an audible sigh, grateful that he wasn’t forcing her to speak.

“It wasn’t Draco raping me, it was you. And that’s terrifying because I-I feel something, but that whole dream seemed a little over the top. I should have taken the draught, but I wanted to see if anything has changed. Anyway, I don’t think you’d do that to me in the first place... Then a voice kept whispering the word ‘whore’, and I’m not! I swear I’m not.” The tears were now gushing down her cheeks, and she was out of breath from having said all of that in one breath.

Snape took her hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, thinking. That certainly explained a lot, yet he didn’t know what to feel. He was, obviously, coming to terms with the idea of him feeling something with the bright witch, and vice versa.

Severus cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, you know nothing of my past. You wouldn’t feel anything if you did.”

Hermione shook her head stubbornly and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes with her free hand. “You are a good wizard, sir–“

“How do you know for sure?” he asked quickly, staring at her with narrowed, dissecting eyes.

“You are in the Order, sir! You’ve might have made mistakes in your past, but you’ve rectified them all by fighting for the better good.” This time Hermione grabbed his hands and looked him straight in the eye. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“You wouldn’t if–“ He started, but was cut short by her voice.

“If, sir? If I hadn’t kissed you, would I be sitting here right now? If everything hadn’t happened with Draco, would I be here? Probably not. But I would’ve eventually found my way to you.”

Snape shook his head shortly and thought of what the reason could be of why she was sitting there in front of him.

“I gave you a draught, Hermione, that is all. There hadn’t been any emotions attached to my favor.”

“Exactly,” Hermione replied, sighing. She let go of his hands. “I’m not sure what I feel at the moment. There are so many emotions swirling around in my mind that I’m finding it hard to distinguish one from the other. Why is that?”

“You are young, Miss Granger. Young, and not usually feeble-minded, but with everything having gone on lately... You may feel things you haven’t before. Miss Granger – Hermione – if I were not here right now, you would feel differently. If everything had happened to you in the muggle world, or even at the -pause- Burrow, you would not seek your old, nasty professor for solace.

“Let me finish,” he said as she opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t be so hasty as to think that somebody else couldn’t help you through this time.”

Hermione’s mouth opened and shut and she finally came to glare indignantly at him. “Touche, Professor. You almost had me fooled there for a moment. I’ve said it once and I will say it again: You are a coward. And no, I do not mean in most things, just in love. You are so blinded by the fact that you don’t want anyone too near to you that you don’t even understand that me – er – liking you has absolutely nothing to do with what had occurred two weeks ago.”

Snape sat back in his chair and stared at her, arms folded once again across his broad chest. “I’m blind, am I? Then why, Miss Granger, has everything, including the snogs on your part, happened after you were raped? Why not before?”

Hermione stood up quickly, her chair producing a screeching sound that echoed throughout the classroom. “Because I didn’t realize that I could have died. Up until the incident, I had played Harry Potter’s best friend, Ms. Invincible. I am no fool, but I was blinded by the tight security group my friends provided for me. I realized that Harry and Ron wouldn’t always be around me–“

Snape cut her off. “So who better than an Ex-Death Eater to protect Your Highness.”

His words bounced right off of her. “I realized that if I had died, I never would have gotten the chance to express my gratitude for everything you have done for me... for us...”

“Gratitude accepted, Miss Granger,” Snape drawled as he, too, stood. “You don’t always have to snog to say ‘Thank You’.”

Once again, she continued on as if she hadn’t heard a word he had said. Her voice, though, quieted a bit. “I realized that I might not have had the chance to see the real you, to get to know the real you.”

Silence vibrated between the two of them as they stared at one another.

Outside of the classroom, the bell rung and students once again entered the corridors to go to their next class. Hermione straightened her robes and started out of the classroom, not going back.

She wanted to smile, but she also wanted to cry. She had put her heart on the line just then, and the only response he gave her was a soft ‘oh’ and a surprised stare.

At least I got him thinking again, she thought quietly as she mixed in with the other students as she made her way to the kitchen. She had missed lunch again, and decided to grab a sandwich before retreating to her rooms again.

{--------------------------------------------}

Snape sat behind his desk and watched as the third years entered the classroom looking grim. He glanced down at the piece of parchment on his desk and scowled.

Shortly after Hermione had left the classroom, an Eagle flew into the classroom and dropped a letter on his desk, and then flew back out of the castle. Severus had known almost immediately whose bird it was.

Lucious Malfoy’s... and he was requesting a meeting with Snape next Thursday.

End of Chapter Twelve / To Be Continued

After reading, please review. I\'d really love to know what you think. Thanks!
~Bella