The Ties that Lead to Trust

Chapter 15~ Bluster
Once back in his rooms, Severus poured himself a glass of brandy and paced in front of the fire. What had he been thinking? It was such an impulsive suggestion that he hadn’t even realized what he was saying as the words left his mouth. He could count on one hand the number of times he had lost control of his private thoughts and vocalized them in the past twenty years. Somehow, he had lowered his defences too far. In the attempt to relax and be friendly, he had forgotten why the barriers were there to begin with.

Her initial reaction was no surprise. He was as startled as she was and falling over in shock seemed a normal enough response. It was the questioning afterwards that was far more disturbing. She wanted to know why. How was he supposed to answer that? He didn’t really understand himself. Granted, he had found the experience more restful than anticipated and waking up beside a warm body was pleasant, but he had recognised the fact that it wasn’t what she wanted. She had left without a word the morning after, knowing she had made herself quite clear before. Aside from that, she was a polite young lady and had probably accepted his dinner invitation out of gratitude... perhaps.

However, Hermione had asked if he would like to repeat the experience, when she could have avoided mentioning it and he would not have asked it of her. It seemed to him that friendship was far more difficult to manage than he had ever envisioned. He liked her company. He wanted to spend more evenings in pleasant conversation. He found now he didn’t want them to go their own separate ways. It was highly unsettling to realize he wanted to hold her again. What was even more unsettling was the realization he hadn’t two clues how to go about achieving this.

Drinking the remainder of his brandy, Severus sat heavily on his new leather sofa and stretched out. Even sprawled across it, there would be plenty of room for another person to share it comfortably. It had been ages since he had made any changes to his quarters, but the new sofa was a nice addition, even without someone to share it with. Feeling worn out and lethargic, his eyes closed. As he drifted to sleep, Severus wondered what he was going to do next Friday.
*********

Hermione tossed and turned for a long while after returning from her evening with Severus. She was quite taken aback by his request for her to stay overnight. It wasn’t something she ever would have expected from him and the confession that he rarely slept comfortably in the company of others was strikingly familiar to her own feelings. Upon reflection, Severus had every reason to be uncomfortable in such a situation. But his behaviours regarding sleep weren’t what kept Hermione up late into the night, it was the offer to stay that troubled her. The biggest question in her mind was why he even asked. Dinner, conversation and reading were common activities she enjoyed sharing with friends. His desire for continued friendship was innocuous enough, but was there more to it?

“I’m reading far too much into this,” she told Crookshanks at one point. Far from interested in late night ponderings, he yawned and stretched out further on her bed, seeking to take it over.

It was late when Hermione finally fell asleep and she didn’t wake up in time for breakfast. At nine thirty she was woken by the sound of someone pounding on her door. By the time she finally stumbled to answer it, the person on the other side was in a panic.

“Are you alright Hermione? I was worried when you didn’t come to breakfast.” Harry was examining her frantically for damage.

“Leave off Harry! Can’t I have a lie-in on a Saturday morning?” Her troubled sleep increased the irritation she felt towards her best friend for his fretting.

Harry looked a bit hurt, but mostly concerned. “You have your own rooms, and no one is there to know if you make it back alright.”

She sighed in exasperation. “You don’t think Severus would let me get accosted in the hallways on my way back from dinner do you?”

“No” he mumbled, “I don’t suppose. It’s just... you look terrible this morning.”

“Well thanks, you look right handsome yourself after you’ve just rolled out of bed.”

“Up late last night?”

“It’s none of your business, but yes. I had trouble sleeping.” she answered testily.

Harry at least had the decency to look abashed. “Sorry to bother you. I’ll just let you go back to sleep. See you at lunch?”

She nodded. “I’ll be up in the common room in a bit.”

After Harry left, Hermione felt a bit guilty for being short with him. He was only looking out for her, she knew, but he had a hero thing that didn’t seem to accept peacetime well. He, like many people, had some adjusting to do. Granted, the threats of Lucius Malfoy were frightening enough to trouble her, but with Draco suspended until the new year it would be highly unlikely for his bodyguards to take any action against her. In fact, they had likely been specifically instructed not to. It would be like a Malfoy to keep certain tasks for his own.

It had been a relief that Severus hadn’t broached the subject the previous evening. Save for the awkwardness at the end, it had been entirely enjoyable. Intelligent conversation was thrilling and she revelled in it at every opportunity. Perhaps that was why she suggested meeting again next Friday. There was something very enjoyable about verbal sparring with Severus that made her keen for another round, but the offer at the end had kept her up through the night. What had motivated it? Why would such a private and reserved person expose himself to rejection like that?

In the end, Hermione’s departure hadn’t been due to Severus’ refusal to answer her questions. If she were truthful with herself, Hermione had decided not to stay because she was quite uncertain about her own feelings on the matter. His protectiveness of her over the Malfoy incident had sparked some odd feeling in her. Not irritation, as she had often felt towards Harry or Ron when they carried friendly protection too far, but a sort of warm feeling. As if she were worthy of concern. It was almost flattering that Severus wanted to protect her. Beyond whatever demands the Ministry placed on them, he had no obligation to her anymore, and she did not ask for any.

But somehow, a connection was there. While sitting together, debating history, Hermione had paid attention to the clock. She noticed the hour becoming late, and chose to ignore it. Secretly, she hadn’t wanted to leave. Though Severus was considerably better read than she by virtue of his years, the conversation had been one of equals. A give and take that thrilled her, and because it did she denied his request. Alone in her room, Hermione hoped to find some perspective on the matter, but in the end, all she found was frustration and restlessness.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, Hermione fell back into a chair by the fireplace. She needed to get ready to face the day. Harry would be back at her door if she didn’t make an appearance. She told herself she oughtn’t be cross with her best friend, but he had insinuated– now just why was she so irritated about a simple question about staying up late? She very much doubted Harry would joke about less than entirely platonic activities with Severus Snape. They may not completely despise each other anymore, but the dislike was still strong. Harry would never tease her in that way about Severus, she concluded.

In the first true moment of clarity she had experienced in a long time, Hermione acknowledged that she wanted more out of life than what books and studying could give her. Despite whatever emotional detachment she strove to keep about the situation, she could never date anyone else again. She had never needed a boyfriend to validate her existence and not being prone to such silliness, she had discounted the limitations marriage would put on her entirely. Sure she wanted independence, but she didn’t want to be alone. She enjoyed going on dates and walking hand in hand... couple things. It seemed that logic had steered her wrong for once.

All these thoughts tumbled around in her head while she dressed and made her bed. After calling down to the kitchens for some breakfast, Hermione began organizing her thoughts. First she admitted to herself that, sour grapes aside, her logic ruled decision to marry Severus had been the best one she could have made at the time. There was no use for regrets now. After seeing a small piece of his private life, it wasn’t such a stretch to see herself fit into it as a friend. It was a comforting thought for some reason. Friendship was a two way street, she supposed and decided it should be up to her to make the next gesture.
*********

The weekend passed quickly and soon Hermione was back in the rhythm of school life. Reading, homework and Head Girl duties occupied most of her time, and she felt relieved that things were back to normal at Hogwarts. Her guess about Malfoy’s compatriots seemed to be correct. Crabbe and Goyle were, if possible, stupider than usual in classes. This led most to wonder aloud how they had passed any OWLs and why they were even bothering to try for NEWTs. Harry commonly made snide comments under his breath in class, and Hermione couldn’t quite bring herself to scold him about it.

Hermione wasn’t really concerned about walking the hallways alone anymore, but someone was generally with her now. It was usually subtle how people from all houses, save Slytherin, would make the opportunity to walk between classes with her. Harry stopped following her around like an irate guard dog and the dark eyed stare at meals lessened, though didn’t disappear entirely. Severus didn’t accompany her on evening corridor patrol this week. Professor McGonagall had gone with her and informed her that she would be scheduled on the same evenings as Ernie MacMillan. It was suggested that they travel the halls together.

Friday afternoon in Potions class, Hermione felt anger mounting as she looked at her frothing cauldron. Something had gone wrong with her pain relief potion. She reviewed her notes and the blackboard to ensure she had copied and followed the instructions properly and huffed in frustration when there seemed to be no error in her notes. The shredded bog myrtle, sliced frog spleen, steeped purple toadstools, beetle eyes and diced fluxweed all seemed to be prepared correctly and added in the proper quantity. According to the notes on the board, her cauldron should be a pale blue in colour with the viscosity of honey. Instead, her potion was the thickness of water and covered with dark blue foam. Harry’s cauldron looked much the same, as did Terry Boot’s the row beside hers. In fact, as she looked around the classroom, everyone’s potion seemed to be frothy and thin, not at all like the instructions indicated.

Not knowing what to do, and upset that her potion wasn’t brewing properly, Hermione put her hand in the air. Everyone in the class watched as Professor Snape, seated at his desk, stared at her for a long moment before responding, “Is there a problem Ms Granger?”

Hermione ignored the would be casual tone. “Yes, Professor. There seems to be a problem with today’s potion.”

“And just what would that be?” he continued in a silky voice.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, “step five of the instructions indicate that after adding ten grams of diced fluxweed our potion should begin to thicken. None of our cauldrons have done so.”

He stood and sneered at the class. “Clearly you have all prepared your potion improperly. I expected little more from a class of fools and dunderheads.”

Hermione’s eyes blazed as she countered, “This is a NEWT level class. I find it hard to believe that everyone in this class has followed the directions improperly. Are you sure all the notes on the board are correct?”

The class gasped when Hermione posed this question. No one else would have dared to ask such a thing of Snape. His expression hardened. “I do not make mistakes, Ms Granger. All the information on the board is correct.”

She sighed with frustration. “Then there must be something missing. The only reason for the mixture to start foaming after the fluxweed is added would be if it were improperly prepared before you gave it to us.”

Hermione turned suddenly at that thought to look at the board. After examining it up and down, she looked vindicated. “All the information on the board is correct, but it isn’t complete. Is it sir?”

Everyone was cringing while expecting an angry explosion from their professor. But the explosion didn’t come. The hard expression softened slightly when he said, “You are correct, Ms Granger. Which aspect is incomplete?”

“The ingredients list, sir. Fluxweed cannot be listed so simply. It’s potency and qualities vary depending on when it is harvested: spring or fall, full or new moon. When was the fluxweed harvested, professor?” She felt very confident now.

“To anyone who has studied appropriately for this class, the answer should be obvious.” he told the class at large scornfully.

After considering it for a moment, she knew the answer. “Then obviously it was harvested last night, sir. The frothing would indicate that the potency of the fluxweed is too great. Fluxweed is best used fresh and is most potent when harvested under a full moon, but reacts differently when harvested under a new moon. The potion must call for new moon fluxweed, and you have given us an improper ingredient.”

The corners of his mouth tugged a little, but he resisted even the smallest of smiles. “Well done, Ms Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

The class was in shock at what had just transpired. It was unheard of for Professor Snape to award points to Gryffindor. Jolted out of their amazement they heard their professor barking orders at them again. “I would hope that it is obvious to everyone here that your potion is completely useless. Clean up your cauldrons and leave. We will continue this assignment on another day. Consider yourselves fortunate that today’s work will not be graded.”

As people were leaving the class, several stopped to offer Hermione congratulations. To counter Professor Snape in class and emerge the victor was simply unheard of. Harry was grinning broadly when he left. In addition to seeing Snape give Gryffindor house points, the erstwhile professor had also neglected to give them mountains of homework for the weekend. When the class was finally empty, Hermione smiled slyly at Severus. “Just how long have you been doing that to classes?”

The smile was returned, “Oh, so you figured that out too? I have provided an improperly prepared ingredient once to every seventh year class I have taught. Each and every one has failed to notice and every year there is one assignment that every student fails. This year will be the first exception.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “You mean no one has spotted a problem? There have been so many bright students!”

“That is true. And every year those bright students complain to their other professors about the assignment. This trick class is well known amongst the staff. There is a pool running on who will be the student to catch it. It’s never been won, but I think Minerva and Filius will be very pleased. They were both betting on you this year.” He said while trying to sound disapproving, but not managing all that well.

“They bet on me?” she asked, surprised.

Severus had to keep himself from laughing aloud. “Naturally. Who else would they bet on? Though this year does mark the first occasion Filius has put money on someone out of his house.”

Hermione tutted disapprovingly. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small brown package. “Speaking of Professor Flitwick, he asked me to give these to you. I had them last week, but forgot entirely.”

Severus took the package from her, easily guessing what it contained. “Pictures?”

She nodded. “They turned out quite well, I suppose. Shall we go?”
*********

Once more, Hermione found herself in the cozy interior of Severus’ quarters. It had been clammy and damp in the Potions classroom, but here the fire crackled merrily in the hearth, chasing away the wet of the drizzle outside. Severus went to the dining room to fetch some tea, and once more they sat together on the comfortable sofa. He sat back, brooding over the rim of his cup, before speaking. “I didn’t mean to be harsh with you in class. I’m quite impressed and proud that you were the one to find the flaw.”

“You are harsh with everyone in class!” she answered. “I’m not sure it was an entirely equal competition with past years’ classes. I’ve seen fluxweed in use more often. Do you always sabotage the same ingredient?”

He shook his head. “I select a different potion and different ingredient every year when I begin planning lessons. Each ingredient has similar features though, easily corrupted by the altering of harvesting or preparation.”

“And no one has noticed all these years? That is incredible.” she said more to herself than to Severus.

“I have my suspicions that one student in a class a few years ago noticed something odd during the lesson, but chose not to speak up.” He answered truthfully.

Hermione snorted, “Well that’s not surprising. You’d have bitten their head off!”

“Perhaps.” A satisfied smile crossed his features.

“You know, I didn’t believe you could smile a few months ago.” she stated boldly.

He sighed. “Truth be told, I haven’t often had cause to. I actively avoid it around other people and don’t usually feel the need to when I am alone. I shall hardly be able to intimidate people by smiling at them.”

“You need to develop an evil smile.” she joked.

He shot his best wicked grin back at her. “Will that do?”

She started giggling, “Definitely. You’ll scare the socks off your first years for sure.”

As she had the previous Friday, Hermione was enjoying Severus’ company and conversation. Dinner this evening had been wonderful and she felt very contented while they read together. The drizzle outside had developed into a storm with thunder that shook the walls. It was nice to be dry inside while the weather raged out on the grounds. Hermione expected the Great Hall ceiling was a fantastic sight tonight and the volume of the storm would be much greater up in the tower. Reflecting on her recent decision, it somehow seemed fitting that the weather tonight would be ill tempered. That was, after all, what most people thought of Severus.

As the hour grew late, the storm increased in vigour. Hermione nudged closer to Severus at a particularly loud clap of thunder and he stopped reading to look down at her. “It sounds like quite the weather we’re having outside. It takes a big storm to be heard down here.”

“I figured as much. I’ve always loved watching storms. I find them exhilarating.”

Severus frowned. “Didn’t they scare you when you were small?”

“No,” she shook her head. “My dad and I used to sit at night by the big front window with hot cocoa and watch the street light up when the lightning flashed.”

Another clap of thunder boomed through the school and Severus flinched a little. “Never been fond of them myself. Too many angry, loud noises. I have somewhat of an aversion to such sounds. I prefer a steady downpour.”

His casual tone didn’t disguise the note of unease in his voice. It made sense that the booming thunder reminded him of unhappy times in his childhood home. She moved closer and slipped a hand in his before speaking. “That’s understandable. The rhythmic drumming of rain is peaceful. I enjoy thunderstorms, but sleep best in a steady rain.”

“I wouldn’t hold out hope for this weather to let up soon. I doubt it will give you much peaceful sleep.”

Squeezing his hand, she replied enigmatically, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

For a long while, they were quiet, listening to the castle around them. The fire occasionally sparked and crackled. The resounding echo of thunder travelled through the corridors and wind blew through empty halls. The quieter late night sounds of Hogwarts couldn’t be heard above the turmoil outside. Closing her eyes, Hermione enjoyed the symphony around her. She could hear Severus’ breathing quicken slightly and wasn’t surprised when he spoke.

“You aren’t falling asleep are you? I suppose it’s time for you to go.”

The subtle quavering of his voice steadied her determination. “I am getting tired. Are you ready for bed?”

He seemed not to notice the implications of her question when he answered a bit sarcastically. “I’m quite sure I can stay awake long enough to see you safely to your room.”

“Not yours?”

There was a thick silence before he spoke again. “I didn’t ask-”

“-You’re right, I did. You’ll find I have quite a good memory, Severus.” she told him gently.

“Are... Would you... I’d like...” he wasn’t quite capable of expressing himself properly. He took a deep breath and started again. “I’m not quite sure of what you are saying, Hermione.”

She tried very hard to keep her confidence. “I’m saying that there is no need for an escort to the tower if the offer to stay here still stands.”

He seemed quite unsettled and for a moment, Hermione thought he was going to insist she leave. “You are always welcome here. I’ve told you that before.”

“Yes you did,” she responded, “but this is slightly different. Would you like me to stay tonight?”

He nodded. “What should I send for?”

Hermione smiled bashfully. “I brought everything I need.”

Without another word, he stood and took her hand and guided her out of the sitting room. With his wand, he extinguished the candles and dampened the fire on his way out the door. At the bathroom, she let go of his hand and mumbled about getting changed. Hermione felt a prickle of unease remembering the last time she was here. Not letting this bother her, she firmly told herself that staying the night this time was an entirely different situation. The marble room glowed invitingly and she took a moment to notice how lovely the room was.

In her bag, Hermione had stowed her least festive pyjamas. The relatively opulent setting of Severus’ bathroom made the shooting stars seem very out of place. The room was welcoming, not festive. With a mental grumble towards her family’s idea of holiday spirit, she finished her evening rituals and shuffled down the hall to bed.

When she entered the bedroom, Severus was already dressed for sleep in the soft, green checked pyjamas she had encountered last time. The room was quite dim. Only a candle on either side of the bed were lit and he was beneath the covers affecting to read. He looked up when she entered the room and raised an eyebrow. “It would seem I’m not the only one who receives pyjamas as gifts from people who don’t know my tastes.”

She chuckled at this comment. “Is it that obvious?”

He nodded. “Your parents?”

“Yes, every Christmas. What’s your excuse?” she teased.

“Albus on birthdays.” he answered.

Hermione tucked her bag out of the way and climbed under the covers herself. She didn’t feel too uncomfortable now that they were chatting pleasantly. “You never told me when your birthday is.”

“March thirteenth. Yours is next week, isn’t it?” he asked, putting the book on the night table.

“Next Friday. How did you know?” she inquired.

“I asked Minerva.” he said, shifting down to the pillows. “Lights?”

“Yes, I’m quite ready for sleep.”

Shifting and settling in the darkness, Hermione felt an odd sense of peace. The storm continued to rattle through the school, but in this dark corner, it was unable to reach. The crash of thunder was muted as if thousands of miles away. In the dark they lay quietly, not touching, as sleep settled upon them.
*********