Judging Books By Their Cover

Hermione stared at him, confused. “What was it, three days ago that you became angry at me for kissing you? Four? Inappropriate conduct to your person, I believe you called it, and my house lost fifty points because of me.”

“I wasn’t asking you to kiss me. I can only imagine how repulsive the idea should be to you, and is to everyone else,” he muttered softly, his accepting tone digging straight to her heart.

She stared at him, studying his features. His black hair hung in waves, almost to his shoulder, and the way he let it hang made her think he wished to hide the rest of his features behind it. That didn’t quite work, though, and she could still see the beautiful features of his face. His skin was pale, like porcelain, and his eyes a pool of liquid black which she easily found herself getting lost in. His nose was hooked, but looked distinguished on him rather than ugly. His lips were thin, and not what most would consider inviting, but to Hermione they had a beautiful curve to them and fit him wonderfully. She had kissed him before, and the only part she regretted was that he was so bothered by it. No, contrary to his opinion of himself and everyone else, the idea of kissing him was nowhere near repulsive, however much she knew it should be to kiss a teacher.

Had she not always hated him for his cruelty? Yet here she was, sympathizing with him and quickly heading to the conclusion that he was far from as cruel to the world as the world had been cruel to him. She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him tightly. Something like how a mother would embrace her child, and yet not quite. The affection she was beginning to feel was not of a maternal nature, which was perhaps what frightened her the most.

“If you believed yourself the most handsome man in the world, then would you wish me to kiss you?” she asked him.

“Perhaps, but you see, I am not and so it does not matter,” he answered bitterly, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

“I see,” she said. “Well, Severus, though I will not claim to have thought it in the past, from where I am standing you are the most handsome man in the world, but I will not risk rejection a second time by kissing you now.”

He looked at her oddly, as if trying to see into her to where the deception lay hidden. Try as he might, though, he could not find it, and he seemed determined that that just meant he must look harder. “You are lying. People always lie. Women especially. They claim to love you, to care for you, then they leave you for another.”

“I don’t know what woman did that to you, Severus,” Hermione said angrily, “but it was not I. I am not lying to you, and even if I had wanted to I’m not sure I could given how keenly this spell causes me to see your pain. I offer you what is, if only briefly, a respite from that pain, and you throw it away as if you treasure that pain and despise happiness.”

“Hermione,” he whispered, pulling her over to the couch with him. “I don’t despise happiness. I despise myself for hoping that happiness could be mine, when experience has taught me again and again that it cannot.”

“Well if you are going to be miserable later, why not take what comfort you can now?” she asked, laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. There was nothing sexual in it, though she wasn’t sure that she would have denied him had he tried anything. It was just comfort, and for once Severus Snape let down his walls to allow some measure of happiness to trickle in. They lay there for some time, and when they woke from the reverie, it was morning.

He kissed her forehead gently. “Hermione, it might be best if we parted ways now rather than later. It is still early enough for you to return to Gryffindor tower without any realizing where you have spent your night. I have not slept so peacefully in years, but I don’t want you to pay the price for it.”

She nodded, and straightened her clothes quickly before hastening through the halls of Hogwarts. Hermione wasn’t caught in those halls, but on the way she realized she would pay the price for that night all the same. Nothing could stay as it was, and she was a fool for hoping otherwise.

She tried to enter quietly, but walking through the common room she saw Ginny Weasley sitting up and rubbing her eyes, a open textbook fallen on the floor beside her. “Hermione?” she whispered. “Where have you been? I was waiting up to ask for your help with a class… it must have been two in the morning when I drifted off.”

“Shush, Ginny,” said Hermione, “don’t wake anyone. I think it’s around six in the morning, though it may be a bit before. Everyone will be waking before too much longer, and I have no mind to be caught like this when they do.”

“Then I’ll say you have been here with me all night, that we fell asleep studying,” said Ginny, her voice a younger version of Mrs. Weasley’s firm orders. “But if I’m keeping your secret, then you will have to tell me where you have been.”

“I can’t,” said Hermione. “I want to, Ginny, but I can’t.”

“Why?” the girl asked. Ginny might be a fifth year now, but her curiosity hadn’t diminished over the years.
Hermione sat down on the couch, burying her head in her hands. “Because you couldn’t understand. I don’t even understand.”

“Was it with a boy?” asked Ginny, eyes going wide with excitement.

“Sort of,” said Hermione.

“Sort of?” asked Ginny. “How can it sort of be a boy?”

“WellIdon’tsupposeheisaboyanymore,” mumbled Hermione quickly, looking at Ginny in horror.

“What?” said Ginny, her expression showing she was very much afraid she had heard correctly.

“I don’t suppose he is a boy anymore,” repeated Hermione slowly through clenched jaws.

If Ginny’s imitation of her mother had been weak before, she perfected it then. “Explain.”

“What happened a few days ago,” Hermione said, starting at the beginning. “It was the result of a spell I cast and a potion I took without fully understanding its purpose. Long story short, it has caused me to see people in a new way. To see things about them I wouldn’t have ever known before. I went to Snape for help, and I guess I’ve begun seeing him in a new way too. I was in his office talking the problem over, and fell asleep there.”

“What do you mean when you say you have begun seeing him in a new way?” asked Ginny warily.

Hermione sighed. “I mean I have begun feeling…well, I guess attracted to him. I sympathize with him, and no longer judge him for his past or his rather scathing personality. I just feel affection instead of hate.”

“Well you had better get over that,” said Ginny, trying to ignore the horror she felt at an attraction to Snape and focus solely on Hermione’s safety. “It is always the woman who gets burned the worst. And Hermione, you’d be better off playing with fire than playing with Severus Snape.”

Better off playing with fire than playing with Severus Snape. Those words seemed stuck in Hermione’s mind. Did it matter than she wasn’t playing? Or that it mattered little what she thought, for she didn’t really expect Severus would permit another lapse as he had the other night? For almost six years, Hermione had seen Professor Snape in the worst light, despite having stood up for him a time or two against Harry and Ron when she felt they were too harsh about it, and she had been content to see him so. She had seen his anger and every other dark emotion he possessed, that quite frankly seemed to be the only emotions he possessed.

Never would she have expected a softer side, a side that was merely damaged by a lifetime of pain and darkness. Never would she have expected that when those walls came down, there was kindness and affection to be found as well. Then again, she had never expected herself to behave in such a manner either. It was completely unlike her, but completely like her at the same time. For better or worse, the spell was doing its job well.

Again they went days in silence, Snape not managing to look her in the eyes during class, and Hermione feeling herself nearly blush whenever his eyes drifted her direction the rest of the time. They both seemed to be struggling with the same question. Was it better, to leave things as they were, and wait for things to pass? Or, knowing that the spell might never be removed and the feelings might never fade, was a moment of comfort worth the risk it required? Some decisions are easier to delay than to face.

“Miss Granger,” said Professor McGonagall one day in transfiguration. “Is there some reason the rest of the class has completed their assignment but you are simply staring at it?”

Hermione looked up at her professor in panic, not having heard the instructions or known how the time had passed. Glancing around quickly and seeing the rest of the class staring at her, she looked down at the quill on her desk and quickly transfigured it into a butterfly.

“Five points from Gryffindor for inattention, Miss Granger,” said Professor McGonagall with a slight chuckle, “and ten for Gryffindor for excellent work. Do try to pay attention now.”

The rest of class continued in a haze, and her attention was scarcely any better in her other classes. When evening came and she went to see Professor Snape she found him sitting in his office quietly, skin even paler than normal, eyes lacking the brightness she had seen before. He said little, just handed her a vial of yellowish potion. “That should put everything back to normal,” he said quietly, “just take it and use the Finite Incantatem.”

Nodding, and in a more somber mood herself, Hermione opened the vial and prepared herself to take it. She wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to give it up, but knew that in the end it would be best. Swallowing the foul liquid quickly, Hermione cast the proper spell on herself. Not that she had ever seen someone use a Finite Incantatem on themselves, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. She felt lightheaded for a moment, allowing herself to fall into the nearest chair, and had a splitting headache for a minute that left as abruptly as it had came. Finally, she looked up at Severus, who was leaning against his desk and watching her in concern. Watching me with those beautiful black eyes.

“Well?” he asked. “Has everything reverted to normal?”

She stared at him, wide eyed. “I think I need to go look around for a second,” she said, walking out of his office and to a hall where several students were going about their day. She recognized two, and to her relief they looked exactly as they had before she had gotten her hands on that bloody spell.

Walking back into Severus’ office, she realized what it was had gone so wrong. Those beautiful black eyes, and all of the rest of him that she had been admiring lately – it was still there. The potion had done its work, but she still saw Severus in a way that could only cause problems.

“Has everything reverted to normal?” he repeated.

“Almost,” she said, hearing her voice squeak a bit.

“Define almost, Miss Granger,” he said.

“Well, Severus, it seems I see others normally,” Hermione answered, unsure of what he would think. “Except you. I still see you as I described before, and that hasn’t even come close to reverting to what was normal.”

Severus seemed to let out a deep breath that he had been holding, and began to pace back and forth across the room as he gathered his thoughts. “The way you see me now,” he said as she walked over to him, “is it the exact same? Or is it just the same but without the... er... affection you felt previously?”

Hermione felt a wall in herself breaking down. Logic had told her that certain things were impossible, and should not be attempted. Certain feelings could not be allowed to surface. But who was she to build walls in herself when she had lectured him for doing so? And if the spell had reversed but she saw him very much the same...

She put her arms around him and rested her head against him before answering. “I’m afraid it is the exact same. Do you think... should we try again to change it? What can be done?”

“I’m sure you are quite right in not desiring any affection for me. It could only lead to problems, Hermione,” he said, holding on to her. Sighing, he corrected himself. “Miss Granger. It may well be that this matter should be taken to Albus, though I had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“How do you think he will take it, knowing we delayed telling him?” she asked.

“Oh,” said Severus, “no doubt he will tell us that we should have come to him sooner with the problem. However, Albus is a surprising man at times, and I would not venture to guess what he will do. I find it unlikely that he will be angry in us though, however correct he would be in such anger.”

“We haven’t done anything wrong,” she said firmly. “I don’t see that we have broken any rules at all here.”

“You did violate curfew the other night,” he point out with a slight smile.

“Whose side are you on here, anyway?” she asked, punching him playfully. Bloody hell, she thought to herself, he is right. There is no way this would be permissible, even though in many ways we have behaved perfectly so far. Her thoughts made her mind stray elsewhere, to somewhere it most definitely didn’t need to go just then.

“I am on your side, Hermione,” said Severus. “But that doesn’t mean we get what we want.”

What we want, she thought abruptly. Was that an admission of something? Damn it all, it is a shame we are both such logical people. Normally, anyway. “So we are going to Dumbledore?” she asked him.

“Yes, tomorrow. I believe you have a free period in the afternoon? Meet me at his office then. I will send him a note here in a minute so that he will expect us.”

She nodded. “Sleep well tonight, Severus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hermione?” he said as she reached for the door. When she turned to look at him he was running one of his hands through his hair and seemed a bit unnerved, but continued anyway. “Since we will be giving this all up when we go to him, do you think... could we fall asleep on the couch one more time?”

It made her heart melt, seeing him and hearing the words. In one way, he was very much a grown man, and he had experiences to fill a lifetime. But in another, he was still a young man who felt alone and just wanted a companion. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Whatever trouble might come of all of this, it was bound to come anyway. What could it hurt?

Kicking off their shoes, the strange pair curled up together on the couch, her head on his shoulder and his arms around her waist. He kissed her forehead lightly, and she tilted her head back to kiss his cheek. Feeling the warmth of their bodies against each other, and the sensation of being in each others arms, she suddenly found Severus kissing her lips gently.

With each slight kiss there was a question, and with the next an answer and another question. They knew each kiss would make things harder in the morning, but somehow found themselves continuing regardless. Her question of ‘what could it hurt?’ began to sound foolish, though Hermione didn’t find herself stopping matters either.

She felt his hand making its way under her uniform, and when she felt his hand on her bare skin she felt chills going up her spine and began unfastening his shirt. His chest was pale and slightly muscular, and Hermione explored his skin with her hands. As she moved across his otherwise smooth skin, she felt all the scars of his life under her fingertips. She felt his reaction in their kiss, and his lips moved to kiss her neck as their hands’ exploration continued.

There is a point where two people have to make a decision, because past that point there is no room for decision making. No room to stop what has already begun. As hands and lips explored each other, the two felt that point looming near.