Giving and Taking

Class couldn’t end soon enough for either Hermione or Snape. As soon as the bell rang and the class filed out, Snape put his head on the desk loudly. He swore loudly.

Of course he was pleased that he would see Hermione tonight. But he wasn’t counting on the other part of him that would be pleased at seeing her tonight. His mind shifted back to the events of two weeks ago.

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Snape was at the library, looking for a particular book on the historical usage of truth poems in England. He came across Hermione sitting at a table, completely alone. Surrounding her were piles of books, each with some sort of intelligently daunting title. She didn’t notice that he was just a shelf away from her. She picked up a particularly challenging book about charms, and began to take notes. Snape couldn’t help but notice her concentration on the text. Her brow furrowed as her eyes rapidly took in the book’s information. Her lips moved silently as she read.

He stood, transfixed, for minutes. He had never seen anything like it. Usually, students avoided the library unless it was absolutely necessary to frequent it. Hermione practically lived and breathed in this environment. He couldn’t help but comment to himself how natural it seemed to that she was a true scholar. No student he ever encountered had that same poise, that same determination that he saw displayed all over Hermione’s face. His dark eyes again watched her light brown ones. She was completely oblivious to his scrutiny. Still reading, she moved her right hand to her hair and pulled out the elastic that held her curls back. A wave of brown curls framed her face wildly. It was such shock seeing her this way. She usually didn’t allow anything this personally liberating in her appearance. Her voluminous hair seemed to represent a new side of Hermione, one that he hadn’t seen before: a heavily repressed side that could only be brought out in the right circumstances. He felt himself harden unexpectedly at this sight and idea and had to swallow a mad desire to walk and bury his hands in its magnitude.

“My God,” he mused, “She’s miraculous. I knew she was smart, but this is different. She loves what she does. She’s not some immature snot, but she truly has a thirst for this. And here she is, stifled at Hogwarts. What if I’m the only one who realizes this potential? She needs a way out; she needs to have her full power revealed. But I can’t make it obvious…”

Unfortunately, his subject spotted him. So much for not being obvious.

“Um, Professor, can I help you with something” Hermione asked, bemused at the fact her Potions professor was watching her from the neighboring shelf.

“Not at all, Miss Granger. I was looking for a book, but seeing as though you have almost the whole library at your disposal on your table, my search might be in vain.”

“You’re welcome to look Professor” Hermione added coolly, “Although I highly doubt I have what you’re looking for.”

“You’d be surprised” thought Snape devilishly, and he chided himself. Where the hell did that remark come from? Instead, he remarked,

“Alas, Miss Granger, I see that you don’t have what I’m looking for. Good day”
And just as quickly as she spotted him, he was gone.
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That hair had haunted his dreams for the past two weeks. He found himself almost obsessed with it, and what it symbolized to him. He had never seen her hair loose and free. He was so desperate to see that side of Hermione and wondered why he was so quick to resort to sexual imagery in relation to it. Sometimes, his mind would wander too far and he’d have to reprimand himself. At meals, he couldn’t help but look. A furtive glance at her toned legs, a subtle peek at her chest, a quick glimpse at her ass, anything to keep up that sexually deviant image of her he imagined. He did have to admit, she was rather attractive. Her friends hadn’t realized it, Severus noticed, but Hermione had truly matured. Her hair lost its bushiness and her previously nondescript body had suddenly become descript in the right places. Her conservative clothing tried hide the deep curves of her body, but he saw them. Sometimes he noticed the buttons on some shirts straining to contain her rather large breasts. Her waist curved in and then flared out slightly to show a rounded ass that was held up by two shapely legs. She wasn’t tall, in fact more petite than anything, which made him want completely cover her with his tall body. He wanted her to feel him and just him.

“Stop it, you dirty bastard,” He’d tell himself. “She’s a student, not a sex object, control yourself!”

He couldn’t, though. She was magnetically powerful. She had a hold on his mind that he couldn’t shake. He tried reminding himself that he was a Slytherin and she a Gryffindor, but again, no avail. During the night, he would lie awake in agony, fantasizing about her making a potion naked or about fucking her senseless on a library table, surrounded by books.

He felt dirty and focused his attentions at trying to make her realize her own intelligence. During those two weeks, he berated her in class for not working hard enough or for being a show off. He wanted to push her, and now she finally reached her breaking point. That fire in her stormy eyes was what he was so desperate to see.

Well, among other things.

He hit his head on the desk again.

“Damnit man, focus. You’re just as bed as those two idiots she hangs out with. Shallow and immature. Just because it has been a while since you’ve gotten any doesn’t mean you have fantasize every waking minute. Control yourself!”

He got up from his desk to get ready for dinner. Cursing more under his breath, he walked out of the class to his private rooms. A cold shower was in order.

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“Can you believe that git, Hermione, giving you detention? You didn’t do anything, in fact that man should have given you points for doing all the work. I’m telling you ‘Mione, he’s being downright harsh to you these past couple of days, and I don’t know why!” Ron exclaimed as they were walking back to the common room.

“You know he’s right, Hermione” Harry added, “You don’t have to be such a martyr. Admit it, he’s being unfair”

Hermione silently acknowledged she didn’t understand why Professor Snape was being exceptionally harsh towards her recently.

“I suppose you’re right, Harry. I don’t understand it, but he’s still the teacher. And I was doing something wrong. It was a group project, you guys know I can’t keep….”

But Hermione’s voice died out with her courage. She hated her passive nature, but she loved her friends more. She knew that they needed her and maybe she’d get the appreciation she deserved sometime later.

They clamored through the portrait hole. Harry and Ron went to the boy’s side and Hermione went to her side.

“Catch you at dinner, ‘Mione!” Ron said, but Hermione was already out of earshot.

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Hermione flung herself on her bed. She was completely alone in the room and she relished in her solitude. Her bag fell from her hand with a loud thunk on the floor. She looked up in the ceiling and lost herself in her thoughts.

“Why was Professor Snape being so hard on me? Maybe Ron and Harry are right, it is more than usual. And why me? I haven’t done anything. If anything, those two should be…now Hermione, you’re doing the right thing, helping your friends. No good deed goes unpunished. And detention can’t be that bad. Just explain to Professor Snape what you did, he’s a reasonable man, even if he is a bit cold. He’s smart at least….

She found herself blushing at this last thought. She was getting so tired of all her friends with their one track conversations. She wanted something intelligent to discuss. Although she didn’t want to admit it, her argument with the Potions professor earlier helped her release some of the angst she was feeling. She finally felt as though she was talking with an equal. Still uncomfortable at her spontaneous blushing, she rolled off her bed and picked up a book from her bag and began to read until dinner. Feeling sufficiently relaxed, went to the common room to watch Ron and Harry play a game of chess.

“Ready boys?” she asked calmly. They didn’t look up. The familiar anger was building up again, but Hermione buried it. She spoke up a bit, “Ron, Harry, shall we go for dinner?” The boys looked up this time and agreed. Together, the trio walked out of the portrait hole and towards the Great Hall.

Upon arriving there, they sat and Ron and Harry began immediately talking about Quidditch to the nearby team. Hermione couldn’t help noticing how Ron was practically drooling over Alicia, who in turn was flirting madly with Seamus. She felt disgusted and even more alone. Even Ginny was faking interest in the topic of Quidditch, if only to humor Harry. She was tired of artificial conversation. She ate in silent depression, again immune to the watchful eye of Professor Snape. He noticed her sadness. It was almost palpable. He ran his hands through his hair again, feeling anxious. She was as lonely as he was, and this camaraderie was miserably comforting.

Hermione unexpectedly got up from the table and excused herself with a quiet explanation of going to the library. Nobody looked up. Snape noticed her departure, but didn’t know where she was going, although he did have an idea. Disappointed at the prospect of not getting to see her, Snape too left abruptly and retreated to his classroom to grade some papers.

Once she got to the library, she pulled out a random book and read. She blinked back tears. Unconsciously, she loosened her hair from the clip that was holding it back and let it cover her face to hide the escaping droplets from her lids. She began to lose herself in the book she was reading, all her previous grief becoming lost as she let the wave of words soothe her. Suddenly, she caught sight of the clock. It was almost nine.

“Shit” she swore. “I’m going to be late for detention. As if today wasn’t terrible enough already!”

She returned the book to the shelf and ran to the dungeons. Out of breath, and four minutes late, she arrived at the dungeons. Hesitantly, she knocked on the heavy doors.

“You may enter” Snape beckoned from inside. He glanced at his watch. “You’re late Miss Granger”

She opened the doors. However, in her haste to leave the library, she forgot to pull back her hair into the typical style. It was completely out of control.