Bound to Happen Again

---

Hermione awoke the next morning in a fog. She knew it was late by the glare through her window and the pressure in her bladder.

Forty-five minutes passed while she intentionally tossed about in bed, refusing to acknowledge the loud commotion Lavender and Parvati intentionally created with the banging of their trunks and laughter at last week’s Prophet exposé on “The Fools Golden Trio.”

Eyes staring into the scarlet nothingness of her bed curtains, Hermione had more troubling things on her mind than confronting her idiotic dormitory mates.

Professor Snape…

Hermione had hoped, for the very briefest of moments before she’d looked at the photo, that she might possibly gain some amount of insight as to this man’s… sentiments.

She refused to look at it again while contemplating all this. Logic had begged her to destroy the photo last night, and even now, she knew she shouldn’t keep it. However, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to dispose of it. Never mind the fact that owning such a photo, let alone taking it, had been an act of defiance, but such a photo of such a man was too rare a thing to destroy. Hermione had paid particular attention in hiding it, even making it difficult for herself to retrieve it should she be tempted to gaze at the wizard’s disconcerting stare.

Her abdomen tensed uncomfortably as she remembered what she had witnessed in the photo.

Other than apparent disproval against her person, Hermione didn’t understand one molecule of his expression. Nothing other than indifference directed at her would have made sense. Despite the six tumultuous years of having this man as an instructor, and later an ally in the war, the two of them were near strangers. Barely acquaintances. The man didn’t know enough about her to either feel like or dislike… right?

What she had witnessed in the photo was beyond the indifference she expected. This left Hermione entirely lost as to a proper reaction. Instead, she returned to old habits and analyzed every one of their past interactions.

Her actions back in fifth year, the—liberties—she had taken, now brought shame she couldn’t describe.

Ridiculous, irresponsible crushes…

Never mind, it didn’t matter. There were certainly more pressing issues on her plate now.

Sod the Ministry.

Hermione had intentionally missed breakfast in the Great Hall. The primary reason was her complete reluctance to relive the emotional turmoil forced upon her last night at the feast. Once The Quibbler was publicly distributed, total havoc was due to erupt again.

The dismayed and shocked faces of her friends were more than enough, thank you very much.

A silent common room and deserted corridor greeted Hermione on her trek to the Great Hall.

Turning a sharp corner, she nearly screeched when a tall body collided with her.

“Hermione!” Dennis acknowledged wildly before grasping her upon the shoulders.

“You scared the—”

“Didn’t see you at breakfast, so I thought I’d check on you.”

Hermione smiled warmly at his concern. “I’m sure you can imagine why I didn’t want to… be there.”

His arms limply fell to his sides. “So… it’s true.”

“Well, of course… Why are you looking at me like that? You were with us last night when we read the new law in The Quibbler!”

“Yes, but when the lot if you left last night to discuss… I had hoped—”

“Dennis, no…” Hermione had yet to shed a tear of self-pity for the damage this Marriage Enhancement AcT might inflict upon her life. The reality of sadness hadn’t occurred to her until now, as she gazed up at Dennis’ dismayed expression and bright eyes. “No…” She clutched at his arm before continuing. “As much as I would like to wish it true, the Order has no power over the Ministry.” Steering the subject away, she asked, “Have the class schedules been passed out yet?”

“Yes… No! I don’t know, perhaps.”

Hermione made a move to descend the stairs. Dennis placed his palm over hers, halting her movements.

“No one else will notice if you’re late.”

“I doubt that—”

“Listen to me, Hermione! I doubt any of the professors will care about absences today. The Great Hall is empty… majority of the students went to the owlery.”

“You’re not actually telling your parents are you?”

“Perhaps… aren’t you?”

“NO! I’ve always tried to keep as much from them as I was able to. They’re Muggles. There’s only so much they could under—think about it, Dennis! I have, what… over two years to abide by the Marriage Enhancement Act? Where as you have four! For my own piece of mind and theirs, I’d rather my parents think my engagement happened naturally. I mean, who knows what could happen in such an amount of time… We may form genuine attachments after all—”

Hermione cut herself off. In her ramblings, she’d failed to notice how tense Dennis had grown by the second.

“Dennis?”

“I thought such things as well. I do have a fair number of years to find…” Eyes trained on the floor, Dennis spoke in an odd, monotone voice not characteristic of his energetic nature. “It’s not the time limit that troubles me so much as—the idea of being so completely restricted in my choices. While I never had my heart set on marrying a fellow Muggle-born…”

Hermione started. She had completely forgotten about the blood-mixing requirement that was imposed by the law.

“… But the idea of having the option completely taken from me…”

“Dennis,” Hermione made a move to comfort him, mouth ready for expressions of sympathy, but Dennis deflected her touch.

Without a word, he brushed passed her and fled to the Gryffindor common room.

---

No more, Hermione told herself.

She began to realize, that after everything, she had nothing to fear anymore.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

She had literally run from hell itself while in flight with Harry and Ron. She had been… captured… by Greyback.

She’d been tortured to the point of death by Bellatrix. Nothing other than death itself was left…

She could weather this law like every other obstacle that had been placed in her path.

A twisted part of Hermione’s psyche now finally eased into some sense of normalcy with her returning to Hogwarts. A school year devoid of life-changing turmoil was too strange a thing to consider.

With that thought in mind, Hermione nearly smiled to herself. She was determined to shift this attitude in her dealings with Professor Snape.

She didn’t understand the wizard, nor his odd fluctuations in mood with her, but she had no reason to fear the wizard any longer.

After all, in the very least, she was certain the man wouldn’t kill her.

Hermione snorted to herself after that thought.

Lost in these contemplations, Hermione dared to allow herself to grow distracted in class. Chin braced into the palm of her hand, ribcage pressed into the edge of the desk, Hermione frowned as her eyes gazed at nothing… thinking about Professor Snape’s picture.

Regardless of the fact that she didn’t understand a single thing about the man’s expressions, anything resembling pain in relation to her was upsetting.

Anger, horror, disappointment… but underneath it all, it pained the man to look at her.

Was she that ghastly a person? Was her character that intolerable? Was she really that… ugly?

“Miss Granger!” Face red, Professor Snape slammed his lesson planner against the corner of Hermione’s worktable.

“Yes, sir!”

For the briefest of moments, one eyebrow raised in uncertainty before it was replaced with his usual irritation.

“Were you intending on following the lecture today? Yes? Well, thank you for gifting us with your presence!”

---

Later that evening, all of the Order members returned to the Headmistress’ office for their scheduled meeting.

Out of breath from running up seven flights of stairs, Hermione was one of the last students to arrive. Smiling and nodding politely in greeting to those assembled, she edged herself towards the only available space she could find. It was no coincidence that it happened to be directly beside Professor Snape’s seated form. Many would rather suffer claustrophobia than stand anywhere beside this man.

Hermione reddened. An apathetic stare had been directed at her from the moment she had entered the office. Finally daring to meet the wizard’s gaze, Hermione started when Snape rolled his eyes dramatically and rose from his seat with a suffering groan.

Without a word, he waved his hand towards the now empty chair.

“No, it’s all right, Professor! I don’t mind standing.”

“Sit. Down.”

Shaking her head at the man’s brutish courtesy, Hermione accepted the offered seat.

The meeting was long, boring, and entirely pointless. As far as Hermione was concerned, if there was no alternative or course of action that could be used to overturn this law, then there was no point in the endless whining she’d been hearing for the past hour.

“… and that brings us to our next topic,” McGonagall said loudly, intentionally cutting off the last person who’d been ranting. “I believe we should expect a bit more news from the Ministry in tomorrow’s paper.”

Stifling her urge to moan petulantly, Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned back into her seat. Unfortunately, she had forgotten who was standing directly behind her chair. Hermione’s left shoulder blade squashed the tips of Professor Snape’s fingers. Her first reaction was to whirl around in mortification and apologize, but the wizard deflected Hermione’s attempts by screaming at the Headmistress.

“What in Merlin’s name is it, now?”

Thin lipped and face stern, the Headmistress replied, “An increase in extracurricular activities. More trips to Hogsmeade, dances for every holiday…”

The difference in reactions to this information was wide and extreme. Some students were pert at the idea of spending more time in Hogsmeade, and others groaned at the social horror that was the typical result of… ugh… a ball while many of the adults bemoaned Minerva’s complacency in allowing the Ministry to gain a foot in Hogwarts’ door.

Hermione was one of the few who remained silent as Minerva tried to explain the Ministry’s reasoning. Apparently, an increase in social functions meant an increase in marriage proposals.

The only thing that shocked Hermione during all this was Professor Snape’s continued silence behind her. It was unnerving. Anxious, she wanted to see the expression on his face… and why, after the awkward blunder with his hand, the man still maintained his grip on the back of her chair? She couldn’t move even if she wanted to, not with a few stands of her hair crushed under his palm…

A knock on the office door finally brought the silence the Headmistress had been deficient in obtaining.

“Enter!”

A young man filled the doorway, tall and imposing. Like many others, Hermione was lost as to a proper reaction.

Draco Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts.

---

The Slytherin’s appearance shouldn’t have been such a surprise, Hermione told herself. After all, many others had returned, including those whose parents were prominent Death Eaters.

It was Draco’s mannerisms that were startling to her. Upon closing the door behind him, Draco then returned Minerva’s greeting with a polite, albeit apathetic, one of his own.

Draco had then moved against the wall, arms crossed, and directed all of his brooding attention to the Headmistress. None of the events Hermione anticipated came to pass. The Slytherin didn’t leer or smirk at Harry and Ron, in the hopes of instigating a fight. He didn’t snort or roll his eyes at Minerva’s instructions.

The only time he diverted his attention was to meet Hermione’s eyes in acknowledgement of her very rude staring. She quickly turned her eyes to the floor.

“Meeting adjourned,” Minerva said warily. “Hermione, Draco, can you come here a minute?”

Swallowing once before she stood, Hermione noted that Professor Snape was absent from his stance behind her chair. She wondered how’d he managed to slip away without her noticing?

“Yes, Professor?” Hermione stood straight in attention, determined to prove that Malfoy’s presence didn’t trouble her in the least.

“I need you to explain to Draco everything he missed before he showed up today; today’s meeting and last night’s.”

Hermione furrowed her brow.

“I’d do it myself, but I fear I must—”

“Oh, no, of course!” Hermione responded quickly, catching herself.

“Thank you. Good to have you back, Draco.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

The moment the two of them descended the spiral staircase and reached the seventh floor corridor, Hermione spun on her heel to address Draco. She flinched back when he suddenly spoke first.

“If you are so terrified to be in my presence, you simply could have told her.” Eyes narrowed, teeth clenched, barely controlled disgust… ah, it appeared this body still belonged to Draco Malfoy after all.

Crossing her arms, Hermione leaned all her weight onto one hip and asked with a smirk, “Who said I was afraid of you? I’m merely surprised she asked me to do it. Do you want to know about last night’s meeting or not?”

“Fine.”

Hermione relaxed out of her defensive stance with a sigh. “Come on, then. I’ll walk you to your common room, and we can talk along the way.”

“Absolutely not,” came a revolted reply.

“Now who’s afraid to be seen with whom?”

Draco shook his head. “Stop playing games, Granger. A female will not escort me to my door. You will speak to me here, and then I will walk you to your common room.”

Hermione was suspicious. “Why?”

“Because I refuse to be seen doing any less! Now are you done?”

Hermione proceeded to inform him of everything she could remember. Draco listened, evidently paying very close attention, but not once did he ask a question.

“So when did you join?” Hermione inquired, the two of them standing right in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Draco’s irritation at her questioning was evident. “Join what?”

“The Order. I fail to see why Professor McGonagall would want me to explain so much if you weren’t a member.”

“Well, I fail to comprehend how that is any your business.”

And with that, Draco turned on his heel, shaking his head to himself the entire way down the corridor.

---

Later that evening—much, much later—Hermione found herself idly walking the corridors, waiting for the tranquil darkness to ease her clouded mind.

She was hurt. More hurt than she was willing to admit to herself or any of her friends. Ron was being more cruel than usual, and Hermione was just about ready to give up on him.

It had taken years for the redhead to finally acknowledge his feelings for Hermione while she had suffered in perpetual insensitive boy hell. And on the very same night Ron had worked up the courage to finally kiss her, his brother had died, throwing him into a cavernous depression.

Since the Marriage Enhancement Act had been passed, Ron had been completely avoiding her. What did he honestly expect her to do? Demand a proposal? Anticipate that she’d immediately begin planning their wedding?

How completely and utterly preposterous…

Romantic feelings aside, Hermione deserved better treatment from someone who called himself her best friend.

Hermione loved Ron unconditionally, but she wouldn’t settle in marriage. She couldn’t imagine the idea of marrying someone she wasn’t breathtakingly in love with. She blamed those sappy, Muggle romances for her idealism, but Hermione knew what she wanted. Someone who could curl her toes with a deep kiss, someone whose gaze told her she was the most exquisite creature in the world, someone whose touch unsteadied her breathing and elevated her heartbeat…

Someone tall and dark bore down on Hermione from a blind corner, forcing her to scream.

She quickly clamped both hands over her mouth at the same time Professor Snape shined his wand light directly above the crown of her head.

“For the love of… Miss Granger…”

“Oh, thank God,” she said, breathless. Bracing her back against the wall, Hermione placed a hand over her chest to steady her breathing.

“Most students do not have such a reaction when they happen upon me after curfew,” he sneered, voice full of sarcasm.

“To be honest, sir, they’re scarier things in this world than you.”

“How dare you speak to me with such—GET OFF THAT WALL!”

Hermione jumped to attention with a squeak, initially frightened. Soon, anger quickly set in at the way he was speaking to her.

Snape loomed over her, shinning the light in her face, his eyes narrowed harshly. “Did you know that I had actually dared to hope that for one measly school year I’d be free from chasing you three around this bloody castle? Potter, Weasley! Come out this instant or else Miss Granger will receive the brunt of punishment!”

He pointed his wand over Hermione’s shoulder, illuminating the corridor at her back.

“P-Professor,” Hermione whispered.

“What?” he snarled, turning his chin down to look directly into her face.

In his anger, he had dared to stand uncommonly close.

“They’re not there. I’m alone.”

That last word rang in the air while silence continued to pass between them. Hermione waited for him to say something, yell at her some more, even punish her. Only a few seconds had passed, but with this perplexing wizard nearly pressed against her, it felt so much longer.

Finally, Snape lowered his wand, pulling away to quickly eye the darkness surrounding them. His expression seemed almost… distrustful. Of what or whom, Hermione could not say.

Unexpectedly remembering his photo, Hermione called to retrieve his attention, “Professor Snape?”

“What?” And just like that, his voice was angry once again.

“I promise you, the three of us won’t be running around in search of mischief this year.”

He crossed his arms, pulling his robes over both shoulders before arching one brow and asking, “What reason could you possibly give to make me believe you?”

Hermione snorted through her nose. “I’m giving you my word as an Order member, Professor. Besides, I’m not a child anymore… Haven’t you noticed?”

Hermione had hoped to gain his trust through light banter, perhaps even make him smirk… but the following reaction she had not anticipated. His wand returned, pointing directly into her face as he gazed at her with that now familiar expression of disappointment.

“I am your instructor, Miss Granger. I’d like you to keep that in mind when you speak to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Hermione wanted to cry from frustration. What the hell was wrong with him? His voice was filled with contempt, he held his wand in her face like he was ready to hex her… but that disappointment in his eyes didn’t make sense. And if he truly wanted her to think of him as merely an instructor, his looming stance over her person—pressing her into the wall—almost made it seem like…

“I said is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes… what?”

“Yes, sir.”

With a growl of repugnance, Professor Snape pushed himself away from the wall he’d been pinning her to and billowed down the corridor.

Long after his form had disappeared into the darkness, Hermione remained frozen in place. She listened to sharp snap of his robes flying behind him and the echo of his boots scraping against the flagstone. When her ears finally received complete silence, she managed to return to her common room.

---

Author's Notes: I send my endless gratitude to Southernwitch69 for the beta!!

-For those of you who have read my first SS/HG epic, Vain Wisdom All and False Philosophy, or if you enjoy a good bit of naughty fanart, may I please direct your attention to this breathtaking piece created by BulletTimeScully. She managed to snab a feature nod over at the HGSS Digest on LJ! Please comment if you have a deviant art account!
Link>>> http://bullettimescully.deviantart.com/art/Vain-Wisdom-Commission-145724045

Next Up: More Snape and Hermione interactions from Snape's POV. And what's going on with Draco?