Correspondence

The next Friday Hermione walked into the library, expecting a vase of flowers to be sitting on her desk only to find the space empty. She was a little disappointed. Had her mysterious admirer overheard the conversation at dinner last night? Had she hurt his delicate sensibilities? He obviously had easily woundable feelings; otherwise he wouldn’t be communicating with her so secretly.

A book had been left from the night before; she had simply never gotten around to putting it away. She picked it up and walked towards its proper shelf. When she turned the corner, there on the floor was a beautiful black crystal vase filled with daisies. She smiled.

She placed the book on the shelf where it belonged and bent down to pick up the flowers. A tiny slip of paper was attached to them. It read:

My mother said that daisies were the happiest flowers. They could always put a smile on even the sourest of faces. I hope they keep a smile on yours.

The smile on her face grew when she remembered what daisies symbolized. While it was thoughtful that he thought of her as innocent, she most definitely was not. Her innocence had been spoiled by growing up in a world being destroyed by a madman, and her other innocence had been lost in an awkward fumble with a certain redhead garbage disposal that had never led to anything else. They had decided that they were too different to maintain a relationship.

Lifting the vase with her hands, she carried it back to her desk, placing the vase in the place of honor that the other two vases had held.

In her regular spot at the dinner table, she sat down, looking at Minerva who was giving her that look.

“Ask your question, Minerva,” she stated with a humorous sigh.

“Are you okay, Hermione?” the concerned Headmistress questioned.

“Yes, I am fine, merely needed a quick little escape from everything, sorry for the inconvenience. It shouldn’t happen again, I promise.”

“Dear girl, I don’t care if it happens again, I just want you to be okay,” she soothed, patting Hermione’s hand resting on the wooden table.

Hermione reached for the butter and found the dish being placed into her hand by a familiar pale hand with elegantly long fingers on it. She looked up into his deep obsidian eyes and gave him a shy smile.

“Thank you, Severus.”

“You are welcome, Miss… Hermione.” He stumbled over her name.

She let the smile expand wider on her face at his use of her real name. He was still having trouble calling her by her first name, but she was determined to fix that.

“I do hope that everything is all right and that your work won’t be affected by any more problems.”

“Why, how nice of you to be so concerned. Everything is fine, merely a moment of panic and hurt pride.”

“Regarding?”

“Something Minerva said got me thinking about the fact that this whole secret admirer thing could be a trick. But I’m okay with it even if it is, because now I am prepared for that option to be truth.”

*
Hermione found an envelope resting flat on her desk the next week. No flowers in sight, just the simple plain white envelope, with no markings on it. Her thumb slid under the flap and ripped it open, pulling out the folded parchment.

10/11/09
Good Morning,

I assume you found this letter this morning and are reading it then, your curiosity would not allow for you to let it sit for a long time; if not, please forgive my assumption. I also assume that you have an inkling in regards to my identity, but I am still unable to present myself. After miraculously surviving that horrific incident that I would rather not mention, I discovered something about myself. The reason I am writing to you is to quite simply ask if you want me to stop. I can, just say the word. However, I have a feeling that you are as intrigued by me as I am by you.

For now.

She was intrigued. And even more now she was convinced it was Severus. The letter just read too much of a man with many problems. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, writing on it simply,

Don’t stop.

She placed it into an envelope on her desk when she left for dinner. When she came back later, it was gone.

17/11/09
Hello again,
I am pleased that you do not wish for me to stop, although I was half convinced you would ask me to. I must confess I’m not entirely sure where to go with this. Most likely staying simple will be best, at least at first. How about a question: What made you decide to come back to Hogwarts?

18/11/09
Hello,
I must say I was surprised to receive your letter. After the flowers and notes I was expecting to find a box of chocolates or a giant stuffed teddy bear sitting on my desk. However, if I am correct in my guess as to your identity, then you would most likely not give a teddy bear as a gift as it would not only tarnish your reputation but completely negate the time you have spent building a specific image of yourself. I came to Hogwarts again because it has always been the place I am most happy, other than The Burrow. It is my home. I have some of my happiest, and saddest, memories here. I have always secretly imagined myself coming back here to work, and here I am. I had accomplished all that I wanted at the Ministry, and I made sure it was in capable hands. I knew that I could leave and there was no chance of a psychopath attempting to take over yet again, well, I hope at least, and after all that we survived, hope is one of our strongest weapons along with love. Also, here I am completely submerged in books, one of my favorite things in the world, what more could I ask for. And I also have the intrigue of you, my secret friend. Why are you at Hogwarts?
Hermione

21/11/09
Hello,
I hope you enjoy the present I left with this. I thought you might find it entertaining. It is comforting to me that you think the Ministry is safe from future psychopaths. It surely takes a lot to make you comfortable and to gain your approval; therefore I take trust in your assurance. I must confess I feel the same as you do. Hogwarts is the only true home I have ever known. My childhood home was one made up of neglect and abuse. And that abuse continued when I was at Hogwarts, I also had friends and what I, at the time, considered a family, though later I learned the truth. I returned due to necessity, and I stayed out of comfort. I honestly couldn’t picture myself anywhere else. This is where my life is. This is probably not the best question to ask a librarian, but I am curious. What is your favorite book? After all, Francois Mauriac said, "If you would tell me the heart of a man, tell me not what he reads, but what he re-reads." Obviously that applies to both men and women.
Me

22/11/09
Hello,
Yes, you are a regular comedian. Thank you for the bear; it gave me a great laugh yesterday, and it definitely lightened up my mood. I wasn’t depressed, merely just in a funk. I don’t even know where to begin in answering your question. I would say it’s a ridiculous question, but I believe you already established that in your last letter. I don’t think I can honestly say I have a favorite book. I have a few favorite authors, such as Jane Austen, DH Lawrence, the Bronte sisters, Steinbeck, Hugo, Fitzgerald, Poe, Conrad and many others. If you want the answer to your quote, then the book I’ve read the most is most likely Pride & Prejudice. I know it’s stereotypical. “Oh, she likes Pride & Prejudice, big surprise.” But that book is special to me. My mom bought me my first copy of it when I was about ten years old. I remember sitting in my backyard, the wind blowing around me, the sweet smell of my mother’s flower garden floating in the air. It was such a beautiful setting for my first time to read it, and I quite simply fell in love with the book and the strength of Austen’s imagery. I have been rereading it every spring since, along with other times in between, so it would most definitely be my most read book. So that being said, what does my most read book say about my heart? And what is your favorite book?
Hermione