Secrets

The next morning Hermione awoke early, showering and dressing quickly. Even though it was a Sunday, she felt the need for urgency. She stepped out of her room in the dungeons, locked it, quickly turned to go and ran smack into Professor Snape. His body was lean and hard, knocking her flat. "And where are you headed so early this morning?" he asked, not offering any assistance and hoping to get a rise out of her.
"I'm going to visit my parents," she said, and left without another word. Snape felt a slight twinge of remorse, but promptly squashed that particular feeling. Hermione stopped by one of the greenhouses and picked two white ever-blooming roses.

Hermione knelt on the ground, looking at the grave stones of her mother and father. They were buried side by side in a London cemetery for Muggles, having been attacked before the Downfall so many years ago. She hastily wiped away a few tears; she had promised herself she wouldn't cry. She laid the two roses on their graves and sat between the two.
"I'm doing well now. Professor Snape has taken me as a Potions apprentice. Within two years I should be a Potions Mistress...I miss you, though..." Hermione let out a sob and quickly apparated to Hogsmeade.

She pushed the door to the Hog's Head open, careful to keep her hood up. She had briefly considered The Three Broomsticks, but she simply wanted to have a drink in private, without running the risk of seeing someone she knew.
Hermione was surprised to see that it was a bit busier than usual. Not "busy" by any means, but busier. She took a seat at the bar, the farthest seat away from everyone else, hoping to be left alone. She ordered a firewhiskey and sat, lost within herself. She was startled when a deep, yet soft, voice said to her, "I don't recall permitting you to drink while under my tutelage." She turned to face Professor Snape and shot back, "I don't recall asking you."

Severus cocked an eyebrow at her, yet sat down next to her anyway. "What are you doing in here, drinking at 10:00 in the morning? Why aren't you having a butterbeer with your idiot friends at The Three Broomsticks?" Hermione turned to face him, ready with another retort, yet said instead, "How did you know it was me that came in?" For a moment, Snape's pale complexion turned slightly pink before he said, "Miss Granger, you have a rather...unique smell about you." He quickly took a sip of his own firewhiskey while Hermione stared.
"Also, who could miss that bushy bunch of frizz you call 'hair'?" he said in an effort to regain control of the situation. Ignoring the insult, she said softly, "What do I smell like that is so unique?"

He thought for a second, the said with less arrogance than she had ever heard him speak with, "Vanilla and...something else. You smell...earthy. The smell of burning leaves, or something. A tad...musky." He took another quick drink. "I suppose after reading all of those dusty books their smell has seeped into yours. That is what you smell of- vanilla and an old library." Hermione, despite feeling slightly uncomfortable, gave him a smile. She found she quite liked that description of her scent, even though he had meant the library comment as an insult. They sat in silence for at least five minutes, sipping their drinks and trying to find a way around the awkwardness of Professor Snape letting one of his students know how aware of her he was.

The only thing Snape could think of was to make Hermione even more uncomfortable, so he said, "You've been crying." It wasn't a question. "I told you I was going to visit my parents. It...affects me." Despite himself, he felt another twinge of pity for her. After a long pause, he said, "I tried to stop them." Her eyes widened and they filled with tears for a second time that day.
"You did?" Unable to look at her, he spoke while staring at the wall ahead. "Avery was put in charge of it. The Dark Lord thought it might draw you out of hiding, thereby drawing Potter out with you. I tried to convince the Dark Lord that it was useless- that they had been obliviated and that you were receiving hardly any news from the outside world. I even argued it would only motivate Potter, Weasley, and yourself even more..." he trailed off, not wanting to continue.

Hermione, despite her grief, was as quick as ever. "How did you get away with telling him this- with- with questioning his plans?"
Snape looked extremely uncomfortable.
"I didn't." he said, the downed the rest of his drink. "Did he...cruciatus?" she said, unable to fully put it into words. "Yes," he replied, quite matter-of-factly. Snape rose quickly, put down a sickle on the bar and said, "You may take tomorrow off."

With that, he strode out of the tavern and apparated back to Hogwarts. Hermione sat there for much longer after he had left. In the span of such a short conversation, Professor Snape had revealed so much to her.