Secrets

Snape walked into his room, feeling something very close to happiness. He hadn't felt like this in an extremely long time. He felt accomplished...like he had a purpose...like his existance was appreciated. He hadn't felt like this since before Dumbledore's death. He poured himself a drink and sat by the fire as memories of that terrible night on the tower floated in front of him. Instead of pushing them away, he let them linger.

Snape felt like he didn't have the right to feel happiness, not after everything he'd done. He'd given up his life to one person or another. First the Dark Lord, then Dumbledore. Now that he had no one, he'd never felt more adrift. His thoughts turned to Lilly.

He was slightly drunk now, and he felt in his robes for his wand. He silently cast his patronus, the doe prancing out of the tip and pawing at the ground. It came over and nuzzled his hand before Snape waved it away absentmindedly. It both hurt and comforted him to wallow in the pain, as it was all he'd known for so long. Snape wasn't sure he knew how to be happy anymore.

"That is, before Miss Granger," he thought to himself. He was shocked he had just admitted that to himself. He'd always felt hatred for her, but couldn't remember why. But now, he knew for certain. He hated Hermione not for being friends with Harry, or for her need to constantly show how much she knew, but because he saw himself reflected in her. Not every aspect, true, but Severus had always loved studying at Hogwarts. He wanted to take everything in, know everything...he was simply more discreet about it. He had been teased mercilessly as a teenager, and saw Hermione being (with the exception of the Slytherins) accepted by everyone.
He had hated that about her, even though she had no control over it.

He saw how stupid that was, and sighed bitterly. He hated almost every part of himself. The only thing that kept him going on nights like this was the knowledge that he had played a major role in the downfall of the Dark Lord. It was that one thought that kept him afloat in the sea of his memories.


***

The next morning, Snape awoke from a restless sleep with a slight headache. He wasn't one to get hangovers, so he had a feeling it wasn't because of the alcohol. He took a long shower and felt the headache drain away. He felt cleansed after last night.

He managed to make it through the day without a single thought about Albus, Lilly, or Hermione until after lunch, when it was time for Hermione to join him to start work. Not one to tolerate tardiness, he went to her rooms after five minutes had passed and knocked on the door forcibly. He heard no answer.
"Miss Granger?" he called. Nothing. "If she's napping she'll be cleaning cauldrons until her fingers bleed," he muttered.

He cast "alohamora" and walked inside. He entered the sitting room and didn't see anything. He walked to the door on the right, the door to the bedroom, and listened. He heard soft crying.
"Oh god, what now?" he thought.
Snape knocked, and though she made no movement toward the door, she stopped crying.
"Miss Granger, open the door so I do not have to address you through it."
He waited a bit, and then opened it himself. He noticed nothing at first, but then realized she was hidden completely under the blankets on her bed, with the exception of her hands, which were hanging over the side, uncovered. Snape sighed and pulled back the blankets, looking down at the mess that was Hermione. The sheets were dirty, streaked with dirt, as was she, especially her face and hair.
"Explain yourself," Snape said through gritted teeth.

Hermione dissolved into tears again, and Snape instantly thought of Lilly, when they were in their second year. James and Sirius had been taunting her for some reason or another, and she had come to him for comfort. He had never done well around crying girls- he hated it, because it made him feel helpless. He hadn't know what to do then, and he didn't know what to do now.

He hesitated, then took Hermione's arm and led her into the sitting room, sitting her down in the comfy chair in front of the fireplace. He went over to her desk and dragged the small wooden chair in front of her. He sat down, and trying to sound like he wasn't irritated, said, "What happened?"

Hermione's breath hitched a few times, and she finally managed to control herself.
"I was really exhausted last night, so I decided to sleep in the glove, just so I could sleep in my bed without worrying about waking up on fire. I woke up and bits of dirt were everywhere, and I couldn't bear to not have a shower this morning." She hesitated for a moment, before Snape sighed heavily and said, "Well, go on."

"I decided to flip my hair over under the faucet and just kneel outside the tub so my hand wouldn't get wet. It was fine until shampoo got in my eyes and it stung...I and I guess I forgot I was wearing the glove." Hermione said all this in a hurry, and in a very small voice. She knew Snape was going to be furious.
"But...that isn't all."
Snape cocked an eyebrow and looked at her with an expression that said "what else is new?"
I tried to save the glove, and I put my hand up to it...but I burned my other hand. So now I'm completely useless!" she said this last sentence while tearing up again, unable to keep it in any longer.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot lately. I don't know what's gotten into me..." Hermione sobbed.

Snape rubbed his hand over his face, trying not look as exasperated as he felt. He knew being an asshole wouldn't help the situation any. Hell, he was willing to do anything to make her stop that awful crying. She sounded like a banshee.

He got up and went to walk out, but then seemed to change his mind, and walked towards her bedroom. "Follow me, Miss Granger," he said sternly. Hermione shuddered at how angry he sounded, but followed him anyway. He had gone into her bathroom, and when she walked in she found that Snape had conjured a chair in front of the sink.
"Sit," he commanded.

She sat, and felt a towel immediately wrap around her neck as the back reclined and her head was lowered into the sink. He turned on the tap, letting it soak her hair. He stepped out, and came back a few minutes later with his robes removed and a potion in hand. Hermione had never seen him in anything but tightly buttoned up black robes, so it was startling to see him in just the white button-down and black slacks he always wore under them. Also, he has rolled up his sleeves, and she noticed the faint outline of the darkmark on his left forearm that had a scar running across it. She briefly wondered about it before she felt his fingers working through her hair, making sure it was rinsed of all dirt before he even put shampoo in it. Her eyes were still watery and her breath was still hitching, but she seemed to be done crying, at least for now.

He stepped over to the shower to grab the shampoo, and before he could start, Hermione asked him, "Sir, why are you doing this?"

Snape stood there, bottle in hand, and hesitated for a split second before saying, "Anything to get you to stop weeping like a child, Miss Granger. I can't stand it. And...I know how much one's appearance can affect their emotions, so...here I am. At your service," he said with a sneer.

He stepped closer to her and began working the shampoo into her hair. She no longer smelled of vanilla and found that it did indeed suit her because he found it felt odd that the scent wasn't lingering around her. He would never admit that he missed it, though. As he washed, he asked her, "Miss Granger, what made you decide to major in Potions? I remember you being much more skilled in Transfiguration and Arithmancy...and you certainly don't have the temperament for it." She scoffed, but then said, "I suppose I love the order and logic of it. It's more of a science..an art, than magic. True, the ingredients are magical, as are the end result, but...I just love it," she said, blushing.

He rinsed her hair, working the excess water out, and went to get the conditioner.
"There's two different kinds in here, Miss Granger, which do you prefer?" he said, feeling uncomfortable.
Hermione, feeling amused, said, "The Medusa brand, sir. It helps tame "unruly" hair." Hermione felt like she was at the salon, with the exception of calling the stylist "Sir." If anyone needed a trip to the hairdresser, it was Snape. This thought made her want to giggle a little, but she held back.

He walked over with the bottle, and conditioned her hair for her.
"It has to sit for a few minutes," he said quietly.
Hermione, not able to help her curiosity, asked him, "Sir, how do you know about all this?"

Snape's face grew stern, and his eyes darkened.
"Despite my reputation as the greasy git of the dungeons, I do have proper hygiene habits, hence the bottle of hair potion of my own invention. I've been able to rid myself of my hair being greasy, even though it still looks it. If you weren't a walking fire hazard, I'd invite you to see for yourself." Snape had said all this quickly, and without looking at her, which was unusual for him. He said it as if very embarrassed by it.
Hermione realized everyone, even Snape, was concerned with outer appearances.

While she laid back with conditioner in her hair, Hermione heard the water running again, and then a warm washcloth being pressed gently against her face. She moaned softly at how amazing it felt against her skin. He wiped away the dirt along her forehead and cheeks, while Hermione looked up at him. His face was indecipherable.

"I...I was drawn to Potions for another reason, sir," Hermione said, hesitantly. She had no idea what was compelling her to say this, except how embarrassed he had looked early. Something in her made her want to make him feel better...make him feel appreciated.
He said nothing, but folded the washcloth and placed it on the counter next to him. She could tell he was listening intently.
"Well...it was because of you, sir. I was always fascinated by watching you brew. Your hands were always so sure, and you actually looked peaceful, instead of...hateful." She hesitated, but decided to hold nothing back. She continued, "You were a bloody bully when it came time for you to teach, but...at the same time, you were the only teacher who ever pushed me more than I pushed myself. I never forgot that, sir."

"It's time to rinse your hair, Miss Granger," Snape said, softer than usual. He ran the water again, rinsing it gently, except this time, it felt as though he was afraid to touch her. When finished, he went to the linen closet and chose a fluffy towel. He rubbed it over her head, enough to get the excess water out. He still had not said anything even acknowledging Hermione's admission.
He then grabbed the small bottle containing the potion, rubbing some on his hands. He ran it through her hair, pulling his fingers through the tangles. He cast a quick-dry charm on it, and stepped back.
Hermione stood up, and turned to look in the mirror. She gasped audibly when she saw herself. Her hand went immediately to her hair, and Snape grabbed her by the arm firmly.
"That would be an unwise decision, Miss Granger. I assure you it's real," he said.
Hermione, embarrassed that she had almost set her hair on fire, blushed and turned back to the mirror. She was in shock. Her hair was stick straight, yet still had body and fullness to it. She looked like she was in a very good wig.

She turned to him, and as if on cue, a bit of hair fell in front of her eyes. She tried blowing it out of the way, but it wasn't working. Snape smirked at her effort, and brushed it away for her.
She had never seen him looking the way he was now. The way he looked at her made her uncomfortable...like he could see into her.

He swept behind her, and gathered her hair for her, tying it in a small black ribbon again.
"Wait...I forgot something," he said, walking back toward the bedroom. He came back with a small bottle that Hermione kept on her bedside table. It was her vanilla oil. He dabbed a few drops onto her neck and said, "Now I'm sure we'll both smell like it."

Hermione was almost moved to tears again. "Thank you so much, sir. You don't know what this means to me. It's...it's been a while since anyone has done anything nice just for me."

"Where are Mr. Potter and Weasley?" he asked, bordering on sarcasm.

"They've got their own lives to lead, and...we're still friends, it's just, we've drifted apart. I think fate brought us together to help defeat You-Know-Who, and then...that was that."

"They're fools," Snape said, leaning in close to Hermione. He looked down at her lips, then back to her eyes. He drew in closer, and grazed her lips gently. He went no further, as if waiting for permission. His breathing was heavy, as was hers, he noticed. Something screamed at him that this was ludicrous, but he didn't care.
Hermione closed her eyes and tilted her head back the slightest bit while pushing closer to him. Snape almost gasped at the contact of her body on his, but leaned down to kiss her again. It wasn't at all like Hermione would have thought, it was gentle, unassuming, and even...hesitant. She was surprised at how nervous Snape seemed to feel. He put a tentative arm around her waist, drawing her close to him, and Hermione became completely caught up in the moment. She wrapped her arm around his neck-

"AAAARRRGGGHHH!" he screamed, pulling away so quickly she barely had time to register what had happened. She had forgotten- again. His shirt was in ashes at his feet, he stood there in just pants and shoes. Hermione had never seen the mix of embarrassment, fury, and incredulity that she saw on Snape's face that night. Without saying anything, he turned and walked out.

Hermione was left stunned, her hands held out beside her, lips tingling.

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A/N- This was such a fun chapter to write! I hope you enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading, and please review!