The morning was bleak, the windows slightly frosted, and the cold air creeping into the dormitory. Hermione snuggled deeper under the velvety covers, glad that light could not filter through the dark curtains on her bed. She was just about to decide to skip breakfast to sleep when someone opened her curtains without warning. She blinked up at the offensive creature who had committed this fiendish act.

"Harry, Ron, what are you doing in the girls� dormitory?" she asked, squinting in the bright light of the morning.

"Lavender and Parvati are already downstairs," Harry informed her. "We came to wake you before you missed breakfast."

"You�re so lazy, Hermione," Ron joked. Hermione shot him a grouchy Look that said, �It�s too early for that.�

"Shut up, Ron," she said. After a moment, she heaved herself to a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. "Okay, okay. I�m up. Now go away so I can get dressed," she said, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"All right, but don�t you dare go back to sleep," said Harry as he and Ron went down the stairs.

Hermione finally was alone. She had time, now, to remember what she had dreamed about the night before. Biting her lip, she drew her legs up and hugged them to her chest. The vision of pale skin contrasting with dark eyes floated before her like the cloud of fog that was her breath.

She shook her head, and got down off the high mattress, and got dressed. There was no time to waste thinking about it now, she told herself as she pulled on her jeans. Perhaps later this afternoon, though. She slipped her sock-feet into her shoes and then ran towards the stairs, pulling a black jumper over her head on the way.

Skipping down the stairs, she yawned and stretched and then greeted the others.

"Good morning," she smiled, trying to hide her wishes to not have any human company. Despite the fact that she had let Ron and Harry drag her out of bed this morning, and despite the fact that she seemed to want to join everyone else for breakfast, the truth was that neither was appealing at all, especially being dragged out of bed. She needed time to think. After breakfast, she promised herself. She would slip off to the library or something.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Parvati replied cheerfully. "Ready for breakfast?"

"Of course she is," Ron said. "Let�s go, everyone."

Upon entering the Great Hall, Hermione looked up at the High Table, feeling a brief wave of happiness wash over her for a moment as she saw that the object of her thoughts and uninvited dreams sat up there. He didn�t look at her, making her frown slightly, but as she sat down, she tried her best to think nothing more of it. She, naturally, failed in that.

After breakfast, there was an unofficial game of Quidditch that most went to either play or watch, and Hermione took this chance to slip away, going to the library on her own. Luckily, it was empty. No one wanted to read books during the holidays, of course.

She selected a book at random from the shelves and then sat down at a table. However, she did not end up reading anything. The words on the page wavered in her bleary sight. She couldn�t concentrate on the book, so she leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest and thinking hard about her dream.

It couldn�t possibly mean anything, she told herself. He is a mean-hearted introvert with no intent to change his ways or become a kind person at all. There is no point in thinking about him at all.

She chewed on her cheek, balling her fists tighter against her ribs. No point in thinking about him. Well, though that may have been true, she was still thinking about him. After a moment of indulging in her thoughts and daydreaming, she decided that she was being childish and romantic, and thought it better to go about getting rid of this problem in a logical manner.

First of all, why had her infatuation suddenly come back with such strength? There had been nothing kind or particularly meaningful said between them -as if there ever was, she thought �and nothing had really happened to make her suddenly attracted to him. On the other hand, the heart works in mysterious ways, as her mother would have told her, not that she would tell her mother that she was attracted to a man that was almost twenty years older than herself.

Ah! Another point! screamed the rational part of her mind, which was shrinking by the minute but putting up a good fight to keep its influence on her. He is quite a bit older than you are, Granger. Don�t fall in love with a man who is that much older than you, especially since you have Ron back again. Ron is your age, and not nearly as mean as Snape.

Well, yes, her romantic side said, Ron was her age, but there was a remarkably large possibility that she would always be fighting with him, since that was what had caused them to break up in the first place in school. It was as though they loved arguing too much to give it up, like it was their way of showing their affection for one another. However, despite that affection fighting was still a bad way to carry on a romantic relationship.

Her rational side fought back, saying that if she were ever romantically involved with Snape �and this in itself was a rather preposterous idea �she would fight a good deal more with him, and the same thing would happen. That was only judging by the man she knew, though, said her romantic side, and that was a man whom she didn�t know quite well enough to judge. Yet. But she could, if she would only go down to the dungeons and speak with him.

Everyone was on the pitch now, everyone except her and also Snape. Of course, she didn�t know for sure whether he had stayed in the castle as she had, but it was more than likely that the Potions Master had also remained indoors. After all, if it was not an official game in which Slytherin was playing, there was no point to it, according to his mentality. If Snape and herself were the only people in the castle, it was the perfect opportunity to talk to him alone, without interruption.

However, just as she thought this, something in her told her that it was not yet time to make these decisions, a something that was neither her rational side nor her romantic side, but a wise something that had not taken a side. It was her plain, Hermione Granger sense, and that was, and had proved most often to be, the only thing to trust when she was faced with such an alarmingly tangled confusion of emotions.

"All right," she said under her breath, speaking to no one in particular. "I won�t talk to him yet. But I have to some time, or else I shall go mad."

She finally was able to read her book, but when she glanced at the title and realised it was a book about potions she cursed fate and put it back. Obviously she should have been paying more attention when she had chosen a book to read, but she had been wrapped up in her thoughts at that moment. It wasn�t her fault that the hand of fate that had directed her to that spot and made her pick a book about stupid old potions.

Maybe it was a sign.

Hermione waved her hand vaguely before her face, as if to dismiss the entirely stupid thought brought on by her romantic side. She walked out of the library and meandered on down to the dungeons. She wasn�t heading to him. Oh, no, she couldn�t possibly go to him after the sensible fraction of her had told her not to, since that fragment of her mind was the only trustworthy part, and the only part she would follow blindly, even if it told her to go jump off of a cliff.

Instead, Hermione was heading to the kitchen. She desperately needed a mug of hot cocoa to take her mind off of things, especially the object of the heated debate that had previously been going on within her a moment ago. That debate had cooled for the moment, though it was still far from over, as her romantic and rational selves continued to shoot each other nasty looks. She would continue it later.

She reached up and tickled the pear, which giggled madly for a moment and then turned into a green doorknob. Opening the painting-door, she went into the kitchen, and tried not to fall over as she was surrounded by a swarm of rabid house-elves. Crazy things, all wanting to help her. She managed to capture her balance before it left her completely, and looked down at the nearest elf.

"Um, a cup of hot cocoa, please," she said to the tiny towel-adorned form. Something about the elf was familiar, but what it was Hermione wasn�t able to identify, since the tiny creature rushed off to fetch her order. When the little thing returned, recognition dawned on Hermione, and the exclamation left her lips before she could stop it. "Winky!"

"Hello, Miss Hermione. Winky is happy to see you," said Winky. "Here is your hot chocolate."

Hermione took the mug and thanked Winky accordingly. She didn�t think Winky was actually that glad to see her; probably, the elf still harboured a grudge against her for S.P.E.W. Then again, house-elves weren�t supposed to lie, right? She shrugged. Maybe some of Winky�s previous master�s behaviours had worn off on her.

Leaning against the nearest table, Hermione first spent a minute warming her hands with the warmth of the cocoa seeping through the cup. Lifting the cup, she paused a moment to breathe in the liquid�s chocolatey scent, and then took a sip, not caring that the drink was exceptionally hot. It didn�t burn her tongue at all, despite its warmth. It was the best mug of cocoa she�d ever had, she could say with very little controversy.

While she was contemplating her cocoa, though, she didn�t notice that someone else had entered and was staring at her in partial horror. She looked up, and nearly dropped her mug, splattering the liquid all over her. Luckily, her self-control took over before that happened, and she managed to mask her surprise.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she said calmly. He nodded in a cool greeting, but said nothing to her.

Hermione returned to her cocoa, but remained excruciatingly aware of his presence in the room. She fancied she could feel the displaced air brushing at her ever so lightly with each of his movements, and as he moved by her, she breathed in the weak remains of his spicy scent hanging in the air. Gods, she thought as he passed, he�s close enough to touch.

She licked her suddenly desert-like lips and then bit her lower lip, trying her best to keep her eyes locked on her cocoa. She tried her very best to stop her breathing from becoming as ragged as it was fighting to become, her muscles tightening as she was aware of the exact amount of space between his body and hers.

Finally, she finished that agonising cup of cocoa, and was free to go. As she set her cup down, there was a thud that seemed unnaturally loud in the nearly silent room. Hermione felt like the house-elves were all watching them and wondering what was going on. Hermione actually wanted to know what was going on herself.

As she left, she made the error of casting a final glance over her shoulder. After all, she couldn�t pass up this opportunity to catch a glimpse of his beautiful self. At that moment, their eyes met, and her hand hesitated on the door. His gaze was surprisingly soft, and so alluring that Hermione wanted to run up to him and give him a big kiss right then. She gripped the door handle tighter so that she wouldn�t make a mistake as big as that.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," said Snape quietly, in a tone she had never heard him use. It wasn�t a bad tone, though.

"Good afternoon, Professor."

She left, but with each step she wanted to go back to him. Finally, she was back at Gryffindor Tower, and she didn�t leave again except for the evening meal. She realised later that she hadn�t even been missed.

That evening, after an entire dinner of staring at Snape, Hermione was laying down on her bed alone in her dormitory, reading her copy of Little Women. She was facing the foot of her bed, her feet tucked under her pillow since they were cold. The book lay open before her, and she sprawled across the bed, her chin resting on her folded hands. She was enthralled in the story, and paid no heed to the world around her.

She didn�t even realise that outside the window, snow was once more beginning to swirl to the earth. Even a loud outburst of laughter from downstairs couldn�t break her concentration. She loved this, escaping in books to take her mind off of things. At least it wasn�t a book about potions.

That thought prompted another series of thoughts that made her angry for thinking that thought in the first place. She couldn�t help it, though, so she closed her book, and decided to daydream about her love for the umpteenth time that day. He probably didn�t even realise she thought of him so much, and she knew she shouldn�t think of him so much, but, and this sounded entirely cliché, she couldn�t help it.

She closed her eyes briefly, a small smile curving her lips as the thought of his eyes earlier that day came to mind. So deep, and surprisingly gentle. She wondered what it would be like to see those eyes the morning after, wondered if she ever would be able to. She continued to daydream, and then suddenly her eyes flew open.

She got off of her bed, and slipped her feet back into her shoes. Silently, she crept down the stairs. Everyone was circled round the fire, drinking champagne. They weren�t paying too much attention to her as Harry entertained them with the story of his heroic victory over the Holyhead Harpies. She slipped by them without a glance from the rapt group.

Silently walking down the corridor, she wondered why in the hell she was doing this, but her romantic side was taking over and the sensible bit of her wasn�t really stopping it. She didn�t remember her journey, but suddenly she was at the doors to what she remembered being his office. She stood there for a second, alone in the dark, cold corridor.

"This is so stupid," she muttered. "I should never have come down here. I should have �"

The door opened.

They stared at each other for a long time, neither quite sure of what to say. Hermione�s lips parted slightly, as though she meant to say something, but no sound came out. His eyes searched her face. She could almost feel him prying the protective shell away from her soul, trying to find her secrets.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her suddenly.

"I �I�m sorry, Professor, I didn�t mean�" Hermione knew she sounded like an imbecile, stuttering as much as she was. She trailed off, not bothering to finish or give an excuse, since she couldn�t come up with one, anyway.

His eyes suddenly hardened. "Get out."

Hermione didn�t want to obey. For the life of her, she didn�t. "No."

Sharp tension filled the air, thickening it and making it difficult for Hermione to breathe. They were so close together� she could reach out and touch him easily, just like that day in the kitchen. A strand of black hair was in his face, she noticed, and of its own accord her hand did exactly what she had just been thinking of doing. She tucked the lock of hair behind his ear, and realised that his hair was actually quite soft.

His face melted to a soft expression of compassion when she touched his cheek. He lifted a hand but dropped it, blinking hard and looking as though he were trying desperately to come up with some caustic remark, but couldn�t get it from his lungs. Then, it looked as though he had just given up trying to fight this battle with himself. Suddenly, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard.

It was unexpected, but oh, so sweet and such a release. Her heart soared as his arms encircled her waist, drawing her body against his. Delicious shivers coursed through her veins with her blood, causing the hair on her arms and the back of her neck to raise. Her fingers entwined themselves in his ebony locks, determined to deepen the kiss as much as possible by pulling his lips harder against hers.

"Hermione."

She ignored whoever was talking to her, and continued to kiss her Professor, but it seemed all of a sudden that he was beginning to disappear bit by bit. He was just mist, now, a lasting caress on her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Hermione looked around a moment, disoriented. Then she looked up and saw Lavender. She blinked in confusion, and then she realised that she had drifted off in her daydreaming and actually started to dream. She resisted the urge to curse loudly. It had seemed so real and lovely a dream, too.

"Huh?" she said, sitting up. Her head suddenly weighed a thousand tons with drowsiness. She blinked again and rubbed her eyes.

"You yelled in your sleep. It sounded like you were having a nightmare, so we woke you up," said Lavender.

"We?"

"Me, too!" said Parvati, and for a fleeting second she turned into young Parvati again.

"Oh," said Hermione blankly. She wondered distantly if she would be able to manage any words with more than one syllable. No, she finally decided, she was too busy silently grieving over the fact that that had just been a dream.

"Sorry," said Parvati after a second.

"Well, I think I�d like to go back to sleep," said Hermione. Gods, I sound like such an idiot, she thought at the same moment, not that I don�t all the time, anyway.

"Okay," said Lavender. "Good night."

Hermione closed her curtains, and without bothering to undress except for taking her socks off, she snuggled under the covers. For a while she just lay there, listening to Parvati and Lavender talking like they had when they were all still in school. She swiped at something in her eye, and was surprised when her hand came away with moisture on it. When had she started crying?

It was too late to stop, now. Hermione Granger silently cried herself to sleep. Damned dreams.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Index

Review/Email Author