A Sad and Happy Story

Chapter Seven


That evening, Hermione fairly ran to the dungeons. She -needed- to know the level of Professor Snape’s involvement. It would be really embarrassing if she was wrong and he had nothing to do with it, but she was fairly sure she wasn’t wrong. More importantly than the fact that he had done it was the question why. Sure, it was chivalrous. What was the motivation? Was he… interested in her? Dare she consider it?

Oh, sure. She had nursed a little “thing” for him for years and been called out on it by Ron, Harry, Ginny, Sirius, and probably several other people. And all the hatred in her life lately made her feel a bit more… lovey.

If she could get him to admit it, and that was a big if, then she would make a move. After all, there was no rule against it. They were both of age. Besides, a girl only lives once.

Hermione couldn’t help being a little shocked at herself, but quickly wrote it off to stress.

Stopping at the classroom door, Hermione raised her fist to knock. Before she could, however, a voice came from within.

“Enter.”

How? Really, how?

As soon as she opened the door, she knew. He had been standing close to the door, apparently waiting.

“We will be working in my office this evening, Miss Granger. The classroom is very drafty at night this time of year.”

He led her into his office. Anyone who had seen it before would not have recognized it now. The slimy dead things were still floating in their jars, but the whole room was lit by the warm, blazing fire in the fireplace. Two chairs were drawn up to the desk, the key was in the center, with two identical stacks of parchment stacked on either side, and two inkwells and quills, on either side of the key.

It was convenient to be this close, he had told himself. It only made sense; otherwise he would have had to duplicate the key, and that compromised security.

As they moved to sit, Hermione noticed that she couldn’t fully extend her arm without touching his. Her breath caught. ‘You had better not screw this up,’ she thought, totally unaware that her professor was saying much the same to himself.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Hermione picked up the quill and began marking the exams. They were dreadful. On what felt like her tenth “Troll,” Hermione read an answer that was so unbelievably ridiculous that she could not repress a tremendous laugh.

“Something you would like to share, Miss Granger?” he asked, amused.

“Oh,” she said, trying desperately to catch her breath, “you have to read this. It’s the most absurd, nonsensical thing I have ever seen, and just so you know, that is saying something!”

“Yes, yes, I imagine it would be.”

In the midst of her excitement and giggle-fit, Hermione accidentally swept the inkwell off the desk, resulting in ink splattering all over her professor’s trousers. The sobering effect was immediate.

“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry, professor!”

“Black on black, Miss Granger, who will ever notice?” he said, bending to pick up the ink well, “Now, what was it that had you so amused?”

As he sat back up, she turned to hand him the parchment and they came face to face, both freezing.

Hermione’s mind was racing. She remembered her self-pep-talk on the way to the dungeons. You only live once. ‘Seriously,’ she thought to herself, ‘things can’t get worse, even if you do kiss a teacher—it isn’t like you haven’t hexed him to unconsciousness before.’

Severus’ mind, however, was curiously blank; a sensation to which he could easily become accustomed. ‘Is this what Weasley always feels like?’

It was Hermione who moved first. Rather clumsily, she pressed her lips to his. Relief flooded over her when he did not immediately pull away. When he pulled her onto his lap, into his embrace without breaking the kiss, she thought her heart would explode.

Moments later, they broke apart, gasping. Her arms were still around his neck, his around her waist.

Suddenly exhausted, Hermione slumped against him, head on his shoulder. Severus took this gesture for embarrassment or displeasure.

“What?” he said sharply, “what’s wrong?” He looked down at her, alarmed.

“I just… I can’t believe I did that,” she said into his shoulder.

“Are you sorry?” he asked softly, guiding her chin until she was looking at him.

“No, I’m not. And what of you, are you sorry?”

“Of course not,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her in a way he hoped was reassuring, “how could I be?”

After several minutes, Hermione tilted her head and asked, “I suppose we should get back to the exams?”

“They can wait. For now, I think we need to discuss this… development.”


A/N: Leave me some love and maybe I'll write some! ;)