Deliver Me

Chapter VIII – Come back to me


They all sat silently, each waiting for the other to say something.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, “Hermione, dear, what happened?”

“I don’t know it was so quick. I received an owl, opened the letter and then, well you know what happened after that.”

“Did the rest of you, see anything else?”

They all shook their heads “no”.

"Very well then," she said, "I'll escort you back to your common room, make sure you stay there. Classes are canceled today. Especially you two," McGonagall added referring to Harry and Ron.

“We will,” they answered in unison.

“Umm Professor?” asked Neville.

“Yes.”

“Are thesis classes canceled too?”

“Yes.”

A look of relief swept over Neville, “I’m glad, don’t think I can handle anymore chocolate frogs attempting to bite me.”

Everyone wanted to ask, but didn’t bother.

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Back in the tower, most people were in their rooms; some were in the commonroom by the fire, while others were huddled at tables deep in discussion.

Lavender and Parvati went up to their rooms, followed by Dean and Seamus, they each decided to go back to bed, or rather, each others beds. Everyone knew of course, the four of them, good friends and more. Regardless of how much, they each denied it, it was obvious.

Neville, needing comfort decided to owl his grandmother and the trio found a cozy spot near the fireplace to sit down.

“What’s wrong, you don’t look well,” Harry asked Hermione.

“I don’t know, its strange I guess, to tell you the truth, I haven’t the foggiest idea why I would get a Morbis, who would send it to me? And why? Why me?” She had a faraway look in her eyes.

“There is a war going on outside these walls,” Ron interjected.

“But who?” she asked.

“That is the ultimate question, now isn’t it,” replied Harry.

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The next morning, classes resumed as usual, and in the afternoon Hermione made her way down into the dungeons.

She was in no mood to see Professor Snape, with everything going on around her, she felt frustrated and angry and very confused.

Either way, she entered the dungeons expecting him scowling at her, maybe inquiring about the note, or scolding her for opening something when she didn’t know who sent it. That was classic Snape.

“You are late,” he snarled.

“I’m on time,” little by little, she was learning how to match him glare for glare, comment for comment. She wasn’t sure how she was able to do, the thought never struck her that she could, but…him…just being around him…she either wanted to strangle him or melt away against him losing her senses.

She walked right past him into his office and took a seat on what she liked to fancy as her sofa – in his domain.

Hermione sat down opened a book and blatantly ignored him. Considering the way he treated her the last time they were together, she decided she did not want to go through that experience again…if it was possible.

“Miss Granger,” his voice was like a knife sending chills down her spine, “I would like to discuss your thesis with you today, before we continue.”

“Discuss what exactly?” Hermione asked aloud, she peered over her book, with a tone as icy as his.

“Put the book down Miss Granger,” he leaned against his desk staring her down.

Hermione put down her book, lay back, crosses her legs and placed her arms over her chest.

He looked at her, not saying a word, testing how long she could stare at him in thick silence. She broke first, of course, and he knew that – after only a few minutes she sighed and conceded, “Well?”

He laughed at her.

“What’s your problem? Really? I mean this is getting a bit tiresome,” she started up on him; he raised an eyebrow and a smirk folded over his lips.

“Miss Granger, regardless of the fact that your relative is now dead, why are you still here?”

She glared at him, that hurt and it was cruel. Why did he have to bring up that again? She was moving past it. He talked about Lucy like she was an object, the same way he talked to her.

“Because,” she told him flatly. That really wasn’t an answer at all, but she didn’t care. If he didn’t want to explain himself to her, much less be civil, why should she?

“Because?”

“Yes, because.”

“Because is not a reason, explain yourself.”

“I just need to be here.”

“No, dear girl, you don’t.”

“I want to,” she continued aloud.

“Why?”

“It’s my decision.”

“And I am left as a part of it. Clearly Miss Granger I do not wish to have my time wasted.”

“Then leave. I don’t need you.”

“Yes you do.”

They both held some control over their voices, neither one resorted to yelling, screaming or throttling.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, “I don’t need you and I don’t want anything to do with you. So if you wish to leave, Professor Snape, far be it for me to stop you.”

That’s it, she thought to herself, make him think you don’t care, you don’t give a damn, let him know how it feels to be on the other side.

“You need me and Miss Granger?” Snape stood up in front of her.

“What?” She was irritated.

“I know you want me too.”

That did it, she shot up into the air and starting screaming.

“You insensitive brut!”

“I am neither,” he said dryly completely unphased.

Hermione headed for the door, she didn’t need to take this, “I’m leaving, I’ll be in the library.”

“I think not,” his voice was sharp and stopped her dead in her tracks; she whirled around and stalked right back up to him.

“You don’t own me. I’m not just something you pick up and play with whenever you feel like it!”

“You are in my charge,” his answers were so short and sliced.

“Oh so now you are Mister Responsible? Since when?”

“Miss Granger-”

“Let’s see, when were you responsible, was it the time you pulled me on top of you-”

“This is inappropriate-”

She was throwing his own methods back at him!

“Or what it the time, you had me propped on that table over there-”

“For the last time-”

“And you had your hands all over my body-”

“Don’t you dare!” His voice rose. She didn’t care.

“Dare what? Say what I feel? Why I hurt-”

“That’s natural.” He was emotionless again.

“Talking to you is like talking to air!” She was truly fed up this time and attempted to push past him when he grabbed her arm and swung her right back on the sofa. She landed with a small thud and tried to get back up again but he pushed her back down.

“Sit. We are not through.”

Hermione closed her eyes, and started taking deep breaths, trying to get a hold on to her present situation.

“Don’t touch me,” her tone was low but vicious.

“I can do anything I bloody well please,” Severus was still hovering over her. His glare intensified if that was humanly possible and she could see it in his face that he was attempting to control his temper.

Hermione took a deep breath and decided she would attempt to be the bigger person…again, and hold a courteous conversation with him.

“You know, I do like Potions, I think it’s interesting.”

“Plainly.”

“You don’t have to believe a word I say, but even without Lucy, I still want to learn.”

“I have yet to see that.”

“You wanted to know didn’t you? You asked and I’m answering.” Somehow or the other she had managed to slow her heart rate back to normal and get a hold on her nerves. It wasn’t easy but she managed to anyway.

“Will you be seeing Mister Potter and Mister Weasley tonight?”

She looked up at him curiously; he was driving back at the same topic that made her so furious to begin with, “Yes.”

Hermione wasn’t sure whether it came out of her mouth as a question or an answer, but she knew it sounded rather meek.

Severus didn’t say anything.

“They are in my house you know and they are like – well they are like family to me. You should know that.”

He was silent again. She didn’t like it. He was either scolding her or not talking to her at all! She decided to try her luck again, stand up and walk away. Her head was hurting, her heart was aching and she was frustrated with him.

He watched her gather her books so gently, “I do need to do some reading,” Her voice was calm but questionable; she walked slowly out the door.

“Miss Granger?” Severus said deprecatingly gathering a seat at his desk, never looking up at her once.

“Yes?” She turned around slowly to look at him.

“Mister Potter’s scent engulfs you.”

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Hermione felt like banging her head against the wall, or better yet his, yes his, that would be nice. She needed to release steam, but there was no time now, dinner was approaching and she was starving.

After dinner, the common room was packed, so she decided to venture off into the Transfiguration classroom.

McGonagall always let her stay there when she wished to be by herself and the library or the common room was not for her tasting.

Hermione loved music. Ever since she was a child, her parents, when they weren’t talking about teeth and gums and oral surgery, they played music. Her mother taught her violin and her father piano. That was how her parents met, in Dentistry school they were in the orchestra. She always laughed when she thought about it, two uptight Dentists who played anything from jazz to classical to rock’n’roll.

She walked in and placed a book on the ground before stepping away, pointing her wand and transfiguring it into a grand piano – just for her.

Hermione smiled at herself, pleased with her accomplishment. She sat down and just started to play, no books in front of her no notes, just her memories of what music sheets looked like.

She could feel the smooth keys under her fingers and her power over the intense instrument – the keys sounding with every stroke, louder, softer, louder and softer again. Her foot on the pedal, making the sound last longer and deeper taking her with it. She closed her eyes and played Mozart’s ‘Sonata in C K.545’, letting her mind drift into the music and feel it, know it, be it. She knew this instrument so well; with her eyes closed she could feel the keys, the sound, just how right it all was and where everything belonged.

Her senses ran free and her body loosened; this was pure ecstasy.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, but she played every song she knew and kept playing until her fingers went numb and she couldn’t feel anymore, it was the late hours of the night, but it was fantastic. Everyone was in bed, and she should be too, but it was too much she didn’t want to leave it.

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Walking down the corridor finally turning in for the evening, Severus Snape heard music coming from McGonagall’s room. McGonagall, he knew, was sleeping so someone must have broken in. The music was beautiful though, whoever that was certainly had a knack for what they were doing. Either way, it was late, and whoever was in there was disturbing the peace!

Opening the door, he was surprised to see Hermione Granger, playing a baby grand piano with her eyes closed, moving and bending to the sound as she played.

He was entranced, she was beautiful, she played beautiful. Severus walked over to her slowly, silently waiting for her to stop. He watched as her body moved with the hands up and down the scale intensifying and slowing down again, and when her song ended, he watched her never taking her hands on the keys, her eyes still closed and her heart beating out of her chest.

Softly he said, “Miss Granger.”

Her eyes flipped open, she was still dazed and almost jumped out of the seat in fright, whipping her head around to see him looking at her.

“Don’t do that! You scared me!” she said.

“I was unaware of the fact that you played,” he said to her slowly. He motioned her over and sat down beside her, his own hands touching the keys.

“You never asked,” she said.

He started to play something she never heard before, “How long have you been playing?” His eyes never left the keys.

“Since as far back as I can remember, I must have taken my first lesson when I was five. But my mother and father play.”

“I did not ask about them, I asked about you.”

“How long have you been playing?” She was in complete awe of him. She never imagined in a million years that the frightful Potions Master was a pianist.

“Every accomplished young man must learn a musical instrument, Miss Granger, young ladies too, in the wizarding world.”

“When did you start playing?”

“I must have been very young, as well, four or five.”

“What song are you playing?”

“Do you not know it?”

She shook her head and he stopped.

His face was expressionless as usual, but his eyes would beg to differ otherwise. They were gleaming in content and mystery.

“It is an old song, my mother use to play.”

She had never heard him mention his family before, the thoughts never occurred to her.

“Can you teach it to me? It’s lovely.”

“Miss Granger it’s quite late,” he started to get up.

She tugged on his robes, pulling him back down beside her, “Please, it doesn’t have the be the entire thing, just the beginning.”

He didn’t look like he wanted to, but sat down anyways and began to instruct her. He would play a few bars and she would watch and imitate. After about an hour he got up, “That is enough for tonight.”

She looked up at him as he waited for her to re-transfigure the piano back into a book and he would escort her back to her commonroom.

The walked along in silence for some time, the tower was a ten minute walk in the other direction.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Thank You. That song was beautiful.”

“You are welcome.”

Severus Snape being polite, may the angels weep in delight!

“Professor?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you can finish teaching me the piece tomorrow night?”

“I do not approve of late night study sessions. The grounds are not safe.”

“But we will be inside, and that song it is so…”

“Yes?”

She looked up at him and paused for a moment, “…I don’t know. It’s just gorgeous. I’ve never heard it before, but when you play it, I feel like I want to get go and just fly away into the sky.”

“You are not a bird.”

“Was that the first song you learned?”

“Yes, I was quite advanced for my age, I did not start of with simple silly songs.”

She was getting a first hand glimpse into his life – something he rarely shared.

“That is interesting.”

“No it is not. Very few child prodigies are on this earth, I grant you, but we are all highly uninteresting. We are the same as you or anyone else.”

“It does not excite you when you think about it? You were so young and playing so masterfully.”

“No, Miss Granger, it does not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“That you feel that way.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“If I had the gift of music the same way you do, I would be excited.”

“That is because you are young and impractical. Miss Granger once you grow up and enter reality, it will take a lot to amuse you and enthrall your senses.”

“Like you?”

“We have reached your tower. Good night Miss Granger,” he didn’t answer her question, but rather dismissed her to bed.

“Good Night Professor,” she walked into the portrait hole.

He let out a sigh and walked to his chambers. Once inside, he lay awake with his eyes closed, thinking of Hermione. She played beautifully, she was a natural…tomorrow was another day and the music would continue.

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The next day was uneventful and boring. Harry and Ron were obsessed with Quidditch, Lavender and Parvati exchanged giggles and secrets for the entire day, Seamus and Dean attempted to make Neville feel better about dangerous chocolate frogs and Hermione was left to her own devices. She had lunch in silence, going over a few of her notes from Ancient Runes before heading down into the dungeons a bit early. She wanted to get a head start on making a potion she read about called Medioca, it was a medicine that was used to instantly heal bruises and cuts, but was also a pain reliever – she decided to brew up a batch because she had the biggest feeling that Harry and Ron were going to need it. They two of them were going to seeing Fred, George and Oliver for a scrimmage and prep for the international league tryouts.

Upon entering the dungeons, which where empty, Hermione took a few bottles off the shelves and began to work.

“What are you doing?”

She instantly knew who it was, Severus, he was stalked in quietly.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you are doing something that you are not suppose to be doing.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because Medioca is brewed with sugar not salt.”

She turned around to that with a look of surprise on her face.

“How did you-”

“I am a Potions Master, Miss Granger.”

She nodded and put the salt back grasping the sugar and returning to her work.

“You do also realize, dear girl, that your potion will not be ready for the next few hours.”

She nodded her head, never looking at him.

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Some hours later, the room was getting warm, she was heating the potion over a large fire and surprisingly the dungeons were making very warm. Hermione took off her robe and unbuttoned the top three buttons from her blouse leaving the very top of her breasts exposed. She found hair tie in her bag and knotted it atop her head messily. She continued stirring the potion until the changed color, from red to a very pale green, then she stopped and sat down. Another hour and her potion would be complete, then she could go back to her room and take a very long bath, piano lessons would have to wait until tomorrow, she was exhausted.

“You are still here Miss Granger,” said Professor Snape walking from his office back into the classroom.

When she turned around to face him, he was surprised, but quickly covered his shock. Her top was clinging to her, accentuating her breasts, which were somewhat exposed, and she was sweating, giving her an erotically virgin look, he loved it!

“It’s not finished yet,” she sat down again and ran the back of her hand against her forehead.

He nodded.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“I was wondering, my potion is almost done, do you think you can watch it for me, I just want to go back to the tower and take a shower. It’s been a long day and-”

“Use mine.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Use mine, Miss Granger, I do not like repeating myself. I am in no mood to wait hours for you to dress your girly self up. Use my shower, and return soon. I am not doing your work for you.”

“But I need my clothes.”

“You are a witch, apparate them here.”

“Towels?”

“I usually keep spare in the bathroom.”

She had a look of bewilderment on her face as she followed him to his chambers, again.

“I trust you remember where everything is?”

He led her to the bathroom and promptly left.

Hermione undressed and made her way into the shower. The water was warm; she washed her hair and finished a lot quicker than she anticipated.

It was after school hours, and no one would be around, so she apparated one of her muggle outfits to put on - a spaghetti strap cotton pastel green dress that ended a good few inches above her knees. It was a bit revealing, she admitted, but who cared? It was late, no one was around and the dungeons were like a sweatbox.

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When Hermione walked back into the lab, he was taken aback; it could not have been legal, even in the Muggle world, for her to wear something like that! He looked up her and down, even noticing the matching thong-slippers on her feet.

“That is not dress-code Miss Granger,” Severus barked.

“Oh come on, it’s after hours, and besides it’s boiling in here. Even you’ve taken off some clothes,” she motioned to the chair behind him. He had discarded his robe, the sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up and half of it was unbuttoned exposing a good portion of his chest to her. But he was not sweating.

“It is not that warm Miss Granger, you should mind yourself to be a bit more decent and not parade around the castle half naked like a small time muggle whore.”

Severus didn’t mean it that way, well he did, but the last part came out very wrong.

“A whore?”

Yes, that did it, she was furious, “How dare you? I am not – in no such way – you are so – I cannot believe – for the life of me – who do you think you are?”

She hands moved to her hips and her faced hardened, she was ready to get the blood from the other side of his neck under her fingernails now.

“I am your Potions Professor-”

“Who just called me ‘whore’!”

“I did not say you are a whore Miss Granger, I said you should not wear items that make you look so...”

“So what?”

“Enticing.”

“Am I enticing to you?” She didn’t ask it sultrily, but rather matter-of-factly.

“Your potion is almost complete. I shall be in my study, the room next to my chambers, come see me when you are finished,” and he walked out.

Hermione screamed inside her head when he left. She could have slapped him for a remark like that, but kept reminding herself that she was the better person and let it go.

Twenty minutes later, a quarter to ten that night, Hermione walked over to Professor Snape’s study only to find him laying across his couch, similar to the one she slept on in his office, but this one was much bigger and wider, he had showered too, because his hair was a little wet, he was wearing his robe, which was tied in the front, his usual silk trousers and, of course, in pure Severus fashion, he was shirtless.

It was colder in the study than the lab, by far. She couldn’t understand how he wasn’t sleeping without a blanket because it was freezing in there, and the little moments it took for her to open the door gave her a slight chill.

He was lying on his back and his arm was across his face, she assumed he was sleeping.

As Hermione turned close the door behind her a dark voice startled her, “Come here.”

He hadn’t looked up or removed his arm his from face.

Hermione walked over to him and stood above him, she knew he was exhausted, she knew he was very tired and hadn’t gotten very much rest recently, that’s why she didn’t want to disturb him. No matter what he said or did to her, for some reason, she always had a soft spot for him.

“I don’t want to disturb you, go back to sleep,” she whispered.

He moved his arm slightly to look up at her, “Did you finish?”

His words were strong but low.

“Yes…really Professor, you should sleep, would you like me to get you a blanket?” She had absentmindedly sat down next to him and was stroking the hair out of his face, but she noticed he wasn’t feeling well either. “Your hair is still damp. That isn’t good you know, you can get a head cold. And you’re cold sweating…let me get you a towel.”

“When did you become a doctor?” his voice was bitter.

“It’s common knowledge you know,” with that she got up and went for a small hand towel from his bathroom, wet it, returned to him, began patting his forehead and made him drink a vial of her Medioca, she couldn’t believe he trusted her and drank it though.

Within minutes, he was asleep, or so she thought, but she didn’t move. She liked him better when he was sleeping; he kept his mouth shut, opinions to himself that made him…perfect.

Snap out of it Hermione, she told herself, but couldn’t break away from him, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to this time, but his was tightly gripping her other hand with his own and she couldn’t exactly break away.

Hermione delicately jumped to the other side of him, between his body and the backrest of his couch and half way laid down, her hand on his chest, but her head above his. If he was going to sleep, so would she, and whenever he let go of her hand she would leave, it was that simple. But until then, she somehow managed to spread a blanket over them, she was freezing, and he was knocked out cold, so he couldn’t complain, better for her anyway, and she slept.

During the night however, she slipped down and she was no longer cradling him, he was cradling her against the backrest with one her legs falling between his thighs locking her to him. One of his hands was bolted around her waist and the other around her shoulders molding her against his body. While she had both arms around his neck, making her eye level with him, their foreheads were touching, highly doubtful that either knew the position they were in.