Making sure the boy who lives, actually does...

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Chapter 24: The Head of Slytherin's poor decision
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"Incorrect, as usual Mister Fanton." Snape hissed at the first year boyfronfront of him. The young boy's light eyes were wide with fright, and he sputtered an incomprehensible reply while turning beet red.

Splendid. Snape thought sourly, looking at the boy. Just whaneedneednothnother Longbottom.

"Now," Snape said, his hooded eyes taking in the full classroom of nervous students around him. "Who can tell me the correct ingredients to a simple boil cure potion? Hmmm?"

There was a deafening silence that filled the room, as thirty pairs of wide eyes looked to the menacing man at the front. Snape stopped himself from rubbing his temples in front of the class, finding that the only enjoyable cure to a good migraine was student humiliation.

With this thought, Snape suddenly stepped forth, emitting a small whoosh of worried intakes of breath from the front row. All wondering what he was going to do. Slowly, achingly slowly, one black boot made it's way down behind his podium.

His footsteps were echoing as he walked up and down the aisles, looking to each of his students in turn as he spoke. None made his eyes, and none made any sudden movements, as if he would immediately call them out.

"I find it strange," Snape said liquidly smooth, almost as if he wasn't going to berate any of his students. "That it is almost Christmas, and whilst you've been in this class for a good four months none of you seems to have grasped the simplest of potions."

Silence.

"I heard he turned someone into a toad a few years back."

Ah! Hark! The whisper of a student who thought they were unheard. He glanced at the sound, knowing exactly from whom it emitted. He was halfway down the third row when his speech stopped, and before anyone had a chance to even glance up defiantly to meet the tall, pale man's eyes, two long hands had slapped down onto a nearby desk, causing the young recipient of the scrutiny to let out a smaasp asp of surprise.

"Miss Calantine." Snape said lightly, a whisper of her name, so soft almost no one heard it. "I don't believe I've ever heard you speak up much in this class before."

This was a joke of course. No one spoke up in e's e's class.

Miss Victoria Calantine. Vicky to her friends. Annoying to everyone else. She was small for her age. Average. When he'd passed her in the halls to his classroom she was quite the little chatterbox. High, nasally voice. Made him cringe. Her work was acceptable but not amazing. She had the largest hazel eyes he'd ever seen, one's that seemed to be perpetually widened in fear. Annoying eyes in his mind. Reminded him of Potter.

"No sir." came the meek reply as her cheeks burned. Her eyes widened if that were possible. His sneer grew.

"Tell me Miss Calantine." Snape went on, his face several inches from her own. A proximity normally reserved for the lowest of low that needed some sort of fear installed in them. "What ingredients are needed for a boil cure potion?"

There was a sickening silence in which all the surrounding students were intently focused upon the small blonde girl, practically shrinking into her seat. Snape watched in mute amusement.

"I don't know sir."

"You don't know?" Snape echoed feigning disbelief. "Surely not Miss Calantine. Why, I just heard you speaking with your classmate moments ago-"

Victoria went a deeper shade of red. Snape rose defiantly, his smirk now situated perfectly on his features. Several of the students were glancing at Victoria in pity, some of them even sighing in deep, forlorn empathy. Her redheaded friend next to her refused to look up.

Snape opened his mouth then, preparing to blast her into oblivion with some cutting remark that would leave her crying for ages. It wasn't that he enjoyed tears, but in those singular moments of humiliated realization, she would come to grasp the importance of coming to class prepared...and perhaps some manners.

Suddenly there was a small rap at the door. Snape's smirk faltered as he glanced at the offending door, squinting and glaring at it as if it were animate. Slowly he crossed his arms, heading over towards the door and stopping a few feet from it.

"Enter." came his waspish response. Vicky looked obviously reed aed at the interruption, and the rest of the students had their gaze on the door, waiting to see who had the gall to knock during one of Snape's lessons.

It would have to be someone of daring. Someone brave. Someone not afraid to come face to face with death-

"Longbottom." Snape sneered as the young man came into the room, bumbling and clumsy as usual. Snape swooped over to the young man, still a bit chubby, but no worse for the wear. His spots were almost all gone, his hair shorter, his nails cleaner, his teeth straighter, his posture....still slumped and cowering in fear. "I thought I finished with you last year."

"Y-you did sir." Neville said shakily, giving a glance around him as if expecting some sort of companion. Snape looked disgustedly to the young man, thanking heavens he'd only had to put up with him until his sixth year.

"Well, what do you want?" Snape finally said, watching the quivering boy give a terse glance around the room before meeting the sinister Professor's eyes, ducking his head a bit.

"Uh, P-Professor McGonagall wanted me tt-, us to come and-"

"Spit it out boy." Snape warned, giving a swooping motion around the classroom. "I have a class of dunderheads to teach."

"Well, Professor McGonagall wanted us to come by and borrow some materials for class." Neville managed to get out, holding out a small list to him. "You see we have to transform-"

"Us?" Snape scoffed lightly, ignoring the boy's paper and responding with an oily smirk. "I see only one of you."

"Oh," Neville said perturbed. "Hermione'll be here in a minute. She's just getting the other list." o ano anyone who had been paying close attention to the Professor (and no one was), they might have noticed the sudden drop of the smirk he'd had, or the sudden worry in his eyes that flickered there a mere moment at the mention of the girl's name. Then it was gone.

Before Neville could say anything more, Snape had turned his gaze back onto the class.

"To your textbooks this instant." Snaped dad darkly, looking around the classroom. "Chapter 3, pages 35 to 44. And if I hear one word. Just one. It will be fifty points from every house...Begin."

Immediately thirty textbooks were thrown open, and student after student began their fervent reading of the said chapter. Snape turned his attention back to Neville, uncrossing his arms in a flourish to grasp the paper from the boy's hands. He scanned it with his dark eyes a moment before instructing Neville to remain where he was. The boy looked relieved.

Snape made his way to his ingredients room, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his students were still being productive. They were. Such attentive little sheep. Sneering he made his way into the small spicy smng rng room, glancing at the list and shaking his head. He'd be having a word with Minerva...interrupting his classes...

'Why send her of all people?'

Absently he smoothed down his hair. A habit he'd been into lately...and one he was starting to loathe. Made him appear as if he actually cared about his appearance. No matter. Grasping a small wooden box from a nearby shelf, he placed the several ingredients into it, making sure they wouldn't tilt or easily fall.

He fully intended on being calm when she came in. She was just a student after all. They'd drawn their boundaries. They'd come to an agreement. There was to be nothing between them. No kisses, no relationship, no trust. If only it were as easy as it sounded.

He came out of the ingredients room in enough time to see her walk into the classroom, her eyes scanning the room and smiling widely and softly at any student who happened to look up, as if she were trying to soothe them over the trauma that was his class. It was as if for a moment he could only see her, and then the sound of the real world would overtake him and the spell would be broken.

"Here." Snape said, handing the boy the supplies, and noticing that his tone had turned softer -as it was starting to do when she was around- he immediately straightened. "Try not to drop anything Longbottom...if that's possible."

Neville gave a small nod before scurrying out of clasclasm, nm, not bothering to thank him or look back as he did so. A moment later when Snape hadn't heard the slight tinkling of shattered glass he deemed it safe to look to her.

Hermione.

She stood there defiantly, as if knowing what to expect. Humiliation. He would say it pained him for her to think like that, but in admitting even that would mean he cared for her at all. More than any other student. This was not part of the agreement.

Already he felt the thrum of his heart, distracting him a moment. He viewed her eyes, already dropped to the floor in submission. Humiliation. Heartbreak perhaps. Already uncomfortable with her presence, and now recalling just where they were he grew rigid.

"Why did the Professor need two of you to come and inconvenience me?" Snape inquired haughtily. "During one of my lectures of all times?"

"I apologize sir." She was always polite. Politely distant he'd wager. It'd been over three months since their talk. Over three months since he'd turned down those lips. Turned down more than a kiss really.

Seeing her in the Infirmary those days following that encounter had been hard. It didn't help that Weasley and she seemed to be chummy again. Not that it was any of his business outside of the Potions' classroom. It wasn't. He was her Professor...a teacher...an advisor. That was it. That was where their 'relationship' (and he used the term loosely) ended.

Now their random passing in halls was torture. Quickly he'd slide past her. Or, usually one or the other would surreptitiously take an indirect hallway to avoid passing one another. He'd taken to eating in his chamber for meals, and every class with her in it was completely awkward to them.

She no longer raised her hand in his class. No longer acted the brainy know-it-all. Her marks were still exemplary and had merely taken up saying; "What's the point in answering questions in his class? He never gives points to Gryffindor." to those who inquired about her sudden lack of intensity in his classes.

She was close now though. So close he could see taintaint and few freckles across her nose. The slight and constant purse of her lips. The fresh scent of her perfumed soap. It brought back a mixture of emotions within him that he wished would remain dead.

"I suppose in order to carry all of the supplies." Hermione finally said with a slight shrug of her shoulders, her eyes still at his shoes. He internally longed for her to look at him as she continued. "Ever since that policy about using magic in the halls..."

"Indeed." Snape said lowly, seeing the parchment in her shaky hand. He yearned for her to calm. To stop her inner worry and panic. He didn't want to panic her. He just simply couldn't be with her. It would be unethical. He'd made a promise to Albus, to do a good, honorable job with his students. Shagging one of them in his classroom didn't seem exactly good or honorable. Although the image didn't help the situation one bit.

"Miss Granger-" he suddenly said sharply, watching as she slowly dragged her eyes to his face, which was precisely the effect he'd been hoping. He. He allowed himself the barest of moments in which he took in the color and feel of her eyes before breaking away and holding out his hand. "The list."

Hermione held the bottom of the parchment, watching as two long and elegant looking digits of his placed themselves on either side of the top of the page as he suddenly snatched it away from her. Her eyes were still on his face.

"Wait here." He muttered lowly, glancing one last time at her face before turning his back on her. She watched his long, dark back slipping into the ingredients room before she let out a small sigh. A ripple of desire swept through her as he left her.

He'd been so close she could detect that familiar herbal, soapy scent that seemed embedded in him. A scent that triggered something in her mind that made her perpetually perceptive to him. The low reverberating of his voice, the delicate way his hands moved, the sweeping way his eyes searched her face, the gliding way he moved from place to-

"Enough." She muttered to herself, ignoring the looks she was getting from nearby students who'd dared to look up from their books.

It had been months! MONTHS! And still she wasn't over him. Passing in halls, his absence at meals, the ignoring in classes. She was actually counting down the days until the nearing Christmas break. A few weeks away from Hogwarts were exactly what she needed right now. A Snape-less break.

He returned moments later, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He was carrying a small wooden box of vials and ingredients and various other things. The list she'd given him was wedged in-between the few bottles. She thought she caught him casting a lingering look at her, bucidecided in the end it was her own overwhelming desire for him to do so.

"Here." Snape said resolutely, motioning for Hermione to take the box from him. Hermione gulped a moment, her breath coming out shallowly. It always happened when she was close to him like this. She hated herself for being so weak. She tingled all over.

Slowly, tentatively she took the box from him, not expecting Snape's fingertips to meet her own during the transport of items. It came as a shock when she grasped the large box, feeling Snape's long fingers brushing her hand in the process. It was probably an accident, but it made something in Hermione jolt, causing her to flinch as electricity shot through her fingps tps through to her lower belly.

She also wasn't expecting the weight of the box, as she had -at Snape's unsuspected contact- gone completely weak in the legs, not just the knees. And in what seemed to be a slow motion flurry of items falling to the floor, it had been much more rapid. The entire box and its contents spilled to the floor, leaving all the students staring at the mess at the front of the room in horror.

"Oh no." Hermione uttered lowly, her eyes filling with frightened tears as she viewed the mess, refusing to see Sna fur furious eyes. "I'm so sorry sir."

I never should have touched her. Snape thought angrily to himself as she dropped to her knees, picking up the items. He had tried to stop himself, but the lure of her was too much, and he'd gone and brushed his fingertips along her hand, feeling the satiny feel of her smooth, soft and youthful skin.

Weak. That was how he felt. Weak.

"Stand, Miss Granger." He ordered silkily, watching as the misty brown eyes turned skyward, capturing his own a moment before she stood shakily, brushing the remnants of dirt from her robes.

"I'm sorry sir." She intoned once more, folding her arms in front of her waist, lookingk tok to the mess she'd created. She was going to get it now. The students were silently gaping. Before Snape said anything to Hermione, his head whipped about to face the students.

"Did I tell you to stop reading?" he barked at . Th. The students jerked their eyes back to their texts, their ears waiting for the punishment, perverse curiosity winning over fear for the moment.

Hermione's waited for her punishment, her body almost shaking at the anticipated silence. Soon though, two dark brown eyes made their way up the regal, pale throat of her Professor until she met his face.

"There was no real harm done." Snape stated simply, bringing out his wand slowly. Hermione watched the movement in rapt fascination, never having really noticed his dark wand up close. A student in the back whispered what she had immediately been kingking.

"I thought there wasn't supposed to be any foolish wand waving?"

"That'll be thirty points from Ravenclasterster Brighton." Snape boomed lazily, his eyes still trained on Hermione. She felt her cheeks prickling, and before she could say anything, he tore his gaze to the clutter at his feet.

There was a soft decision of thought that passed through him and then muttering something under his breath, and waving his wand in brisk, efficient swishes the mess was cleaned, the supplies again bottled. He grasped the wooden box and placed it on his desk, putting the several supplies in them once more.

They stood a moment, staring at one another, both unsure of what was to commence. Snape was aware that he hadn't been half as cutting as he could be, and Hermione had noticed. Still she was unsure if this was just her imagination creating some fantastic fantasy. Before more time could pass, Snape motioned carelessly to the box on the desk with one elongated finger, silently ordering her to gather her supplies and leave him.

"Do try to be more careful from now on, Miss Granger." Snape managed to get out in a silken purr, his wand disappearing once more into his robes. "You don't want to end up with a reputation like Longbottom do you?"

Soft chuckles from the back of the room went non-punished as a small smirk appeared on Snape's lips, perhaps out of relief at the tension being broken. Hermione nodded, carefully grasping the box from the table.

"Thank you sir."

She didn't wait for a reply as she wasn't expecting one. But when no response came, and she saw that his back was to her immediately, she couldn't help but feel a bit crestfallen. She though that something had passed between them then, unspoken but undoubtedly felt.

"Will that be all, Miss Granger?" Snape said sourly with one eyebrow skyward, seeing that she was still there staring at him. It was unsettling. As if just now realizing what she'd been doing, she turned a bright red and ducking her head a bit rushed to the door with her supplies, careful not to look back.

* * *

"What took you so long?" Ron muttered as Hermione walked back to her seat, having just handed McGonagall the supplies. She slid into her seat, keen on looking attentive for McGonagall.

"I h bit bit of a...problem with Professor Snape." Hermione whispered back out the side of her mouth, trying to keep the blush off her face. Immediately she turned open her notebook, her quill poised and her eyes on the clean sheet of parchment.

"A problem, hmmm?" Ron echoed playfully, his words tilting a bit at the end.

"Ron." Hermione warned. For the most part Ron was very respectful of the whole 'Snape' issue. But every once and a while, he would try to get a rise out of her, as any young friend would.

She had wanted nothing more than to stay by Snape today, but it was ultimately fruitless and pathetic. He'd told her he didn't want her. Why was she still doing this to herself when he'd made it more than clear that he felt nothing for her?

"I don't see why you don't try again." Ron said with a decided shrug. Hermione was surprised at this.

"I thought you hated him." She whispered gently, trying to be aloof. Ron's light eyes drew to Hermione's, giving her an almost patronizing gaze.

"I do." There was a heavy pause, Ron's thought collecting to form a proper non-offensive sentence. "I perhaps always will. But you don't. And I don't hate you. The way I see it Hermione, if you like him-"

"MISTER WEASLEY!"

Hermione and Ron jumped at the sound of McGonagall's voice, her stern gaze trained on Ron. Even seven years from his first moment in the classroom, she still had the power to drain the color from his face, his freckles jumping out as she spoke.

"Unless you have a question pertaining to the lesson, I suggest you keep your mouth firmly shut for the rest of the class."

"Yes Ma'am." Ron said embarrassed, letting out a gust of air as she nodded and continued with the lesson.

No more was spoken between she and Ron during that class, but Hermione couldn't help but think that Ron had just been on the verge of something insightful, meaningful, powerful even.

She just didn't know exactly what.

* * *

"Class dismissed." Snape ordered exasperatedly at the end of the hour. "Read chapters four through seven for next class. There will be a test on the material as well as what we've discussed in class."

No one dared groan at Snape's outrageous request, but no one looked content. Muttered discontent went through the class as the young students filed out the door, none wanting to be the last one out.

When the last student was firmly out of sighsight, Snape slammed the door behind them, retiring behind his desk and cupping his face in his hands a moment. He was tired. Not only because of the monotony that was his first year class...it was something else. Her.

He could see her face right now. Mainly her eyes. A combination of feelings flooded through him at the memory. But was it really a memory of his own? Was it some strange muddled thought of his boyhood? Did he really care for her now, truly?

Snape groaned, pulling himself up from his chair. He walked around the classroom several times, recalling that he was done his classes for the day. Perhaps he needed a trip. Hogsmeade perhaps? No....far too loud. He was much too tired. He was tired of fighting.

Tired of fighting her.

What was he to do? How was he to know he was making the right decision? The wrong decision? How was he supposed to know which path to take. How was he to save himself?

He needed council.

He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next. Perhaps it was because she had been so close. Perhaps it was the desire that had been pulling him the last few months. Perhaps it was something from the past stirring him in the future...

No matter what it was, Snape felt the compulsion and he stood. He retired to his private office slowly, laboring the thought formed in his mind. It was reckless. His eyes fell on his desk, and before his mind could stop him, his hand was reaching...searching...

Moving several items out of the way on the desk, his eyes fell on a certain potion he'd bottled months ago. A botched experiment he was keen on rectifying...strange that in it's supposedly incorrect state it was exactly what he needed.He lHe lifted it, seeing it diluted contents. Squinting to see any imperfections he shook the vial, seeing nothing wrong with it. Seeing the twin vial that was placed next to it, the antidote, he pocketed it quickly,if tif the rational part of his mind would wake momentarily and stop his sudden madness.

Quickly he pulled the stopper out, the satisfying 'popping' sound greeting his eyes a moment. The faint scent of birchwood and chemicals wafted into his senses and he raised the vial to his lips. There was a moment of indecision.

Slowly he leaned his head back, his indecision ending. With a sudden tilt of the vial he was letting the potion slide down his throat, feeling the cold yet burning sensation filling him. His last muted comment emitted from him when the vial was finally drained and his stomach began swirling, the colors around him blending;

"To the future."