Chapter Three: Drama Queen

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Chapter Three: Drama Queen

As March wore on, Hermione busied herself with her studies, drowning her longing for her professor in parchment, ink, and books. Snape eventually returned to his irascible self, which generated sighs of relief from his colleagues and students who felt reassured that all was normal in their world. Ron and Harry suffered from Hermione's renewed attempts to coerce them into studying more; they had been slacking while she'd been otherwise preoccupied.

However, spending more time studying had its own rewards. Snape had begun appearing in the library two or three times a week at the same time Hermione had been there. He had made a point of sitting at her table, his mere presence discouraging other students from studying nearby. Despite the aloofness that had to be displayed, she had gained no little comfort from his proximity, smiling contentedly as she wrote her essays and read her textbooks. One evening, she noticed that he had left the book he was reading open on the table after departing. Glancing at it curiously, she had to quickly stifle a snort of laughter as she read the title: On Sparta by Plutarch. A sudden flood of warmth hit her as she remembered how he had looked as he had performed his callisthenics routine that morning, naked.

A few days later, Hermione left the library before Snape, which was unusual. She knew the magazine she had left open, face down on the table, would pique his interest. Grinning to herself, she thought of the buff centrefold of the Witches' Weekly magazine stretching in all his blond, naked glory, winking at Snape as he read on the scrap of parchment she had left for him to find, Yet dawn brings a finer display.

Sometimes, he would simply sit and read, not even glancing in her direction the entire time. Other times she would find a book or periodical left behind, open at an interesting article. She would avidly read all that he had provided and in turn leave him her selections, both sharing a little of themselves in the process.

***

The Easter Ball was to take place the night before the students left for the spring holiday, the last chance for frivolity before the weeks of intense studying and revising began. Hermione had difficulty mustering the same enthusiasm as her classmates. What use was a ball if one cannot share the company of the person one most wanted? She readily helped with the decorations and preparations, but on the evening dressed reluctantly, loath to even attend.

Harry was escorting Ginny, Ron had asked Lavender to be his partner, and even Neville had grown enough of a spine to invite Luna to the ball. Hermione alone was attending unescorted.

"Are you sure you are OK?" asked Harry for the umpteenth time as Ginny dragged him onto the dance floor.

"I'm fine, just go and enjoy yourselves. And stop asking!" she replied, rising as if to head to the drinks table. As she stood, she bumped into something firm, black, and warm. Snape.

"Miss Granger," he stated formally, extending his hand. "Professor McGonagall has observed that you are not dancing and charged me with the task of ensuring her precious Gryffindor has a dance partner." His demeanour declared to any observer that he felt extremely put upon, but the spark in his eyes told another tale.

"Professor Snape, how very... er... kind of you," she replied respectfully, then under her breath whispered, "How did you wangle that?"

"Skill, my dear Miss Granger. I am the Head of Slytherin for a reason."

They danced several dances over the course of the evening, all with complete decorum. Touching, yet not touching; holding, yet not holding; speaking, yet not speaking, they passed the evening. Reluctantly parting after the last dance, Snape stiffly bowed, and Hermione thanked him politely.

"Eww. How did you end up dancing with the old bat?" Ron asked once they had all returned to the common room after the ball was over.

"Apparently, Professor McGonagall decided in her wisdom that I needed a partner. He was not impressed, but I guess he couldn't make a scene in front of the whole senior school," she explained.

"So... er... What was it like? Can he dance? He didn't do anything inappropriate, did he?" Ginny's eager curiosity demanded satisfaction.

"It was fine. He was very formal and polite. Yes, he can dance well, and, no, of course he didn't do anything inappropriate. It was Professor Snape, for goodness sake!" With that, Hermione retired to the sanctuary of her room where she could relive the evening in private.

She contemplated the nature of her relationship with Severus Snape and sighed. She barely knew him in so many ways, and yet, she felt that they shared a connection that drew them ever closer. The way he had stripped himself naked before her, both physically and emotionally, created an intimacy that surpassed mere lust. The shared sunrises had created a closeness that she missed intensely. The books that they had discreetly exchanged told of potential future pleasures discovering each other's likes and dislikes. She wanted so much more.

The morning after the ball was to be their last for two weeks while Hermione was staying with the Weasleys for the holidays. She had not said anything to Snape, assuming he was aware of the students' holiday arrangements. Watching him that morning left her longing for contact again after the tantalising tastes of his body against hers the evening before. As they watched the sun rise, she reached for his hand and clasped it as she leaned into his side, relishing the feel of his skin under her hand, the strength of his muscles, and even the musk of his sweat. Once again brushing a light kiss against his cheek as she left, she gasped as he turned and met her lips with his own. Surprisingly soft and warm, his mouth claimed hers, gently at first, but with rising passion as she parted her lips and invited his exploration. They tasted, touched, melted into each other for long moments until she pulled away, resting her forehead against his as their breathing steadied.

"I apologise. I didn't intend..." he started.

"No. Don't." She stopped him with a finger to his lips. With a smile, she tenderly kissed his forehead. "See you in two weeks."

***

For once, the holiday dragged. The frequent, friendly Quidditch games played at the Weasleys had never appealed, Hermione preferring to spend her time reading in the garden when she wasn't helping Molly Weasley prepare meals. She caught Molly eyeing her oddly a few times and chose to ignore the older witch's curiosity at her lack of participation in the others' antics. As the holidays drew to a close, her impatience grew until finally she made a decision.

"I am planning to return to school a few days early," she announced at dinner that night.

"What? Why on earth would you do that?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, Hermione. Why?" added Harry, reaching for another of Molly's delicious buns.

"Well, I overheard Madam Pince saying she was going to rearrange the Restricted Section this week. I thought that if I offered to help her, she may grant me access without a teacher's permission," she quickly explained. After all, it was not an outright lie; she had considered offering to help with the reshelving last term.

"Good luck with that! I doubt that she would relax that rule, even for you!" laughed Harry.

"Nevertheless, it's worth a try," she replied. "I shall Apparate back to Hogwarts in the morning, if that is all right with you, Mrs Weasley?"

"No problem, dear. We would hate to keep you from your books," Molly kindly agreed.

After a jolly round of farewells from the Weasley clan and Harry, Hermione Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and began the long trek up to the castle. The air was cool, with sharp gusts from time to time, belying the false promise of the spring sun shining in the clear, blue sky. Unbeknownst to her, a tall, dark wizard was atop the Astronomy Tower enjoying the view. She could not see from that distance the way his face suddenly lit up when the breeze blew off her hat and allowed her curls to dance around her face.

On arriving at the front door of the Entrance Hall, she pushed the doors hard, expecting them to be stiff. To her surprise the doors gave way easily, propelling her straight into the arms of one delighted Potions master. Not that anyone would have known it from looking at him.

"Miss Granger! Just what do you think you are doing? Ten points for trying to knock over a teacher." His eyes glinted as she glared indignantly at him, then his eyebrow quirked as he glanced toward the Gryffindor hourglass where ten rubies were busy making their way up to the top chamber.

She followed his glance and realised what he had done. "You... Slytherin!" she breathed.

Holding on for just a fraction longer than was strictly necessary for her to regain her balance, he whispered back, "Indeed." Then in a louder tone asked, "To what do we owe the dubious pleasure of your company so soon, Miss Granger?"

"I was planning to offer to help Madam Pince in the library for a few days, sir," she replied, continuing to take the liberty of resting her hand upon his black-clad chest as she pretended to fiddle with her shoe. The rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her hand betrayed his cool exterior.

"Well, far be it from me to keep you from the library," he snarled. "Just try to avoid knocking over any more staff members on the way."

"I will be sure to be selective about whom I run into," she replied, flashing him a suggestive glance before turning and walking away.

Anyone who was watching closely would have been disconcerted to see Professor Severus Snape smile contentedly to himself as the somewhat dishevelled girl left the hall.

There were few students staying at Hogwarts for the holiday, and some staff had gone to visit relatives as well. Those present were usually seated around one large table for meals. Unsurprisingly, the students avoided sitting next to their irritable Potions professor if at all possible, as did the staff. His negative attitude provided all the buffer he needed from those around him. Hermione did the honourable thing when she arrived for dinner that evening. She bravely took the spare seat right next to Professor Snape, without a word of complaint. Turning to him as she sat, she politely greeted him. "Good evening, Professor Snape."

"Miss Granger," was the only reply. However, under the table his hand brushed hers in a brief, but tender greeting.

The meal progressed with little contribution to the conversation from the man beside her. A third-year Hufflepuff girl monopolised her attention from across the table, describing at great lengths all of the souvenirs she had been sent from her parents, who were holidaying overseas. Hermione sighed gently, wishing the girl would pay more attention to her food and less to her dinner companions.

Continuing to present an interested expression to the droning thirteen year old, she reached beneath the tablecloth to find Snape's hand. She almost let out a giggle when she felt his finger trace her palm, wondering if he knew how a Muggle would interpret that simple gesture. His slightly quirked eyebrow told her that he knew perfectly well what message it implied, but the teasing spark in his eyes belied any seriousness behind it.

At last, the girl opposite appeared to have exhausted the subject of her parents' travels. Hermione turned to her professor and inquired respectfully, "How is your research into Ancient Greek traditions coming along, Professor?"

His poorly disguised snort engendered an odd look from Professor McGonagall further down the table as he replied curtly. "As is expected, the Greeks have certain practices which to this day generate a great deal of interest. If you must insist on knowing everything, I suggest you will find plenty to study in the library without needing to bother me."

"I'm sure I will find a suitable subject to study; perhaps I may at least find the bare facts of the matter," she responded serenely.

"Perhaps," he agreed.

Dinner finished without any further communication. Heading back to Gryffindor tower, she gathered her books and parchment to take to the library for some study, hoping that a certain Potions professor would be of a like mind that evening.

The library was sadly empty. Not even Madam Pince was in attendance. Hermione let herself in with the key she had been granted by the librarian and settled herself at her usual table. She supposed it had been a little too much to hope that he would have been there; after all, he no doubt had rounds to do and class work to organise for the following week. Looking around the room one last time, she sighed deeply and took out her books to start reading. Deeply engrossed in her Advanced Transfiguration text, a hand on her shoulder had her leaping out of her chair with her wand out before she realised just who had disturbed her.

"Hexing a professor is bad form, you know, Miss Granger," drawled Snape, an amused twitch lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Humph. Sneaking up on people could also be considered bad form, Professor Snape," she retorted, returning her wand to her pocket.

He spread his hands out in a gesture of apology. "Guilty as charged. But you should have seen the look on your face." Chuckling, he looked up as the door opened. His face resumed its usual dour expression as Madam Pince entered, glancing at them as she passed. Sitting at the table, he shrugged and shot her a rueful look as he opened his own book.

Hermione studied her professor discreetly as she worked. He looked completely at ease, leaning back in his chair, legs stretched under the table, book propped up against its edge. She was acutely aware that he would never let down his guard like that in front of any other students and maybe not even before his colleagues. Black eyes caught hers as beneath the table his leg pressed against her knee and rubbed gently. She flashed him a reproving frown and nodded her head towards Madam Pince's office. Lifting his hand, he blew her a kiss, then raised an eyebrow and grinned. His uncharacteristically playful actions had her stifling a giggle. Shaking her head, she hissed at him, "Professor! Behave." He smirked and moved his leg away from hers, sitting up more formally and re-assuming his mantle of stone. Whilst mourning the loss of contact, she felt relieved that he had returned to his normal demeanour before the librarian had become aware of his anomalous behaviour.

The rest of the evening passed swiftly, both Hermione and Snape content to read and work companionably as they had on many occasions before. As he left, he brushed past her, briefly touching her shoulder as he softly murmured, "Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, Professor," she replied, leaning into him for a moment before, with an overdone flourish of his robes, he swept out of the library.

"Drama queen," she muttered softly to herself as she collected her books. A small scrap of parchment fluttered to the floor as she stowed them in her bag. Picking it up, she noticed the spiky handwriting usually seen lambasting Potions students' essays. Four words. A wealth of meaning. My name is Severus.

***

A/N: This story is dedicated to the esteemed leader of F.A.R.T, Robbi, whose encouragement, nay, nagging, turned this story from a vague idea to an actuality. Of course, my dear friend, ladyinthecloak, bossed the commas into submission and tidied up any mistakes. Thanks, girls!