Friends

Thank you ALL so much for sticking around and reading, reviewing... whatever you do to show me that you appreciate the story. It means a lot. I could say it over and over again, but know that you all are amazing. Also, wanted to let you know that everything is well with me and the car accident is long from my mind. Now I'm celebrating with the money I got from the ordeal.

I have not thanked my beta in long while, so this update is for Shanastay, who has put up with all my "writerly vision," telling me when I should just stuff it. Thank you so much, my dear, for putting the amount of time into this that you have.

Chapter 12- Friends

On the following Wednesday, Hermione still had not come to him to thank him for the books. He was getting slightly worried that perhaps her little talk with Viktor had knocked some sense into her and she had wisely decided to give up the fight and not try to 'crack' him. It would have been so much simpler that way for him, knowing that she really did not care to put such an effort forth. He could decide to leave her be without too much of his own grief from the emotional mess he might potentially become while pursuing her, thus preserving whatever part of his heart that still beat with any life.

But he was Severus Snape, the consummate Slytherin, and things were never, ever that simple for him.

He was quite anxious to see what the witch had in her arsenal to accomplish such a difficult task as getting under his skin. Of course, he already knew that she was well under his skin, and would most likely never leave again. But she did not need to know that. Not just yet. For now, he would watch. He would not completely resist her, but would definitely not make it easy for her to achieve her goal. If that meant confusing her at every turn, only to see how far she would go and how dedicated she really was to this cause, then so be it.

If she was going to use Slytherin tactics against him, then she sorely needed to be taught a lesson about what Slytherin tactics entailed.

However, he knew Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger would never back down. Stubborn Gryffindor. She would rather die than give up on something. If this was at all like the house-elf campaign, he had nothing to worry about. Even if she were confounded much of the time about him, especially when she was unknowingly being schooled in the way of Slytherin duplicity, she would still stick to her cause.

And if she could withstand learning who he really was, then perhaps she was worth all the inner turmoil he was going through, trying to decide just why he found her so appealing all of a sudden.

*******

Wednesday was her birthday, and it was filled with gifts and well wishes from the rest of the staff throughout the day. He had stayed conveniently away from her, hoping not to be caught in the shuffle. He had already given her his gift, though he had not known at the time that it could double as a birthday gift. And he did not wish to draw attention to the fact that she had yet to thank him. Actually, he did want to draw attention to it, but he would do that later when they were alone. Then he could really cut into her and get an unguarded reaction.

Later never came, though.

It happened as he was sitting down to grade some papers before dinner that he heard the knock at the classroom door. He had thought not to answer it, but decided against it. "Enter."

She stepped carefully into the room, shutting the door behind her softly. He watched her closely and placed his quill down on the his desk, waiting for her to come toward him. It seemed that she was tentative about continuing closer, but he saw the light in her brown eyes alter from timidity to bravery rather quickly. What was she thinking about, anyway? She stepped forward on her left foot, hesitated again, and then shook her head giving herself a silent chuckle before striding the rest of the way over to his desk.

She retrieved a book from her robes and placed it on his desk. "Thank you."

"You are quite welcome," he said.

She eyed him curiously for a moment, fidgeting slightly. "Why?"

"Why what, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Why did you give them to me?" she pressed on. "Every time I talk to you, we end up in an argument of some sort. Or you end up criticizing me and I storm away. Honestly, if these are from your personal library, I'm a little confused as to why you would give them to me. I know how you are with your books. And if you dislike me so, why did you send them?"

"So you could ask me why I sent them to you," he stated flatly, finally meeting her gaze.

She rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "I half expected a test or an essay assigned to me."

"I could do that, if it would make you happier," he offered, dropping his attention back to the papers before him.

"It wouldn't!" she exclaimed.

"Are you quite sure about that?" He raised a curious brow at her. He knew he was annoying her with his impassiveness, but this was what she could expect if she was going to engage in secretive operations to draw him out of his shell.

"You are positively insufferable!"

He tried desperately not to feel some kind of mirth at that statement, but it was impossible. The smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he glanced up at her.

She fell silent and instantly curious.

Nosy Gryffindor.

Now she would want to know what had caused him to smile. Had he ever smiled when she was around before? Not likely. Her stance softened and she let out a calming sigh, meeting his eyes.

"Are you finished, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Quite," she said.

"Good." He stood from his desk and straightened it absently. "Perhaps you would accompany me to the Great Hall for dinner?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "You really aren't going to give me an exam?"

"No." He shook his head. "I merely thought I might send you some reading material, since you said you had exhausted Madam Pince's supply. I certainly could not see you forced to find your diversions elsewhere."

It slipped out before he could stop it. Regrettably, it was not lost on her, and she glowered well enough to rival him even in his foulest mood. "Did you hear the entire conversation that day?"

"I did." He nodded. "But, if it would so incline you, I might be willing to have a few academic discussions about the books. I am sure none of the other people in the castle have read it, and I know your absolute... need... to regurgitate everything that you've read, word for word."

She considered him carefully for a moment, as though not understanding why he was offering to spend more time alone with her. He did not want to know what she chalked it all up to, but he was satisfied in knowing that she would be even more confused than she was last weekend during her talk with Viktor. "You don't have to be so nasty about the way you ask."

"I wasn't asking anything," he pointed out. "I merely offered."

"Professor," she began, but paused for a moment before continuing. "I'd be honored if you'd give me a few moments of your time."

I'll give you much more than a few moments, Hermione.

"Are you free this evening?" he questioned. Yes, this was just enough to startle her, make her wonder, and throw her slightly off balance so she would have to reevaluate what she was doing. Or, at the very least, make her question again why he could be so hot and cold at times.

"I am," she said.

Was it so wrong that he considered letting out a sigh of relief that she had accepted his invitation, and not said she had plans with Krum? Speaking of whom, he thought it a very good sign that any of Viktor's plans for her birthday had not won out on her list of things she wanted to do that evening to celebrate her birthday.

"Don't look so surprised, Professor," she said. "I have plans this weekend rather than tonight."

"I see," he replied. "It must be difficult to be a professor at twenty, stuck in the castle."

She shrugged. "I'd rather spend time here than anywhere else. Why do you think I let McGonagall talk me into this so easily?"

"I wasn't quite sure," he admitted.

"Well, now you know," she stated. "I go out merely for the sake of appeasing my... friends."

"Why do you find the castle so pleasing?"

She smiled softly as they paused outside the doors to the Great Hall. "It brings back happy memories. My most treasured in recent years have always been here or at the Burrow."

With that, she was gone and walking toward the high table for dinner. Severus stood still for a moment, watching her go. How could anyone have treasured memories with the Golden Boy and his faithful sidekick Weasley at his side?

"Now's not the time to think that over," he mumbled to himself. His stomach growled and he sighed. He was very, very hungry, and he had a very certain feeling somewhere that he would need to eat a lot to keep his energy up for the evening. Being in the same room with her was taxing enough without his misplaced emotions adding in to the mixture. He could only imagine it now.

Oddly, though, he looked forward to it.

******

Hermione still didn't know why she was purposely subjecting herself to these meetings. Was it for the sheer fact that she wanted to get to know Snape and befriend him? It was almost like the time she tried to service the plight of the house-elves. Imaginary as the plight apparently was, she had tried to get to know them. Of course Dobby had never been a good example. He was an oddity amongst elves, to say the least, and with an unhealthy admiration of Harry. But still, she felt like she should make badges and pass them out. But what was she trying to do? Liberate Snape from his black cloud?

Yes.

Amongst other things.

She chewed slightly on her bottom lip, considering the wooden door before her. When had this wanting to be a friend changed to wanting to be something a little more than friendly? Why did she even think she could be friendly with him? He certainly did not want to be friendly with her. But then again, he had sent her those books. The underlying meaning to that was that he was trying to keep her away from Viktor. Perhaps he only thought she could do better? But better with whom? Himself? Was that what he was trying to say in his own roundabout Slytherin way?

Oh how she hated Slytherins!

"Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to come in?"

His silky, yet derisive, voice filled her ears, and she realized she was staring at a black chest. Lifting her gaze slowly, she met his obsidian eyes in the low light of the dungeon hallways. How had he known she was here? And when had he opened the door without her noticing?

Hermione, you need to stop getting lost in your own thoughts.

She straightened her shoulders defensively and chuckled at herself. "Sorry, just have some things on my mind."

He stepped out of the way, motioning for her to enter the room. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that she had only ever walked past these doors once before, and had always wondered what was inside...if it was as dark and gloomy as the Potions classroom...but she was pleasantly surprised to find that it indeed was not. Of course there was an atrocious amount of green in the room, which was most likely already there when he moved into the Slytherin Head of House chambers. However, offsetting the horrid green were brown leather furnishings and a warm fire stoked in the hearth. Yes, very different than she had ever imagined. Not that she had ever really been able to form a picture of it in her mind. He had always been too enigmatic to pin his personal tastes down accurately.

This was a big step for him, she realized suddenly. He certainly did not entertain many in his private chambers. He had always maintained the adage that whatever was private, was just that, and others did not need to see or hear about those private things.

She jumped when he cleared his throat.

"What, Miss Granger? Did you expect to find a coffin leaning against the wall?" he asked incredulously.

"N-no." She shook her head hastily. "I just..."

"Just what?" He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

She shrugged. "I did not expect such a warm, cozy feeling. I mean, compared to your classroom..."

He shook his head. "I do not always have a fire."

Hermione nodded and looked around the room again, her eyes stopped on the bookshelves lining one wall. "You only sent me five?"

"Installments, Miss Granger," he said and motioned toward the settee. She sat carefully, crossing her jean-clad legs. It was very, very bizarre to say the least. Firstly being down in the dungeons to purposely seek out Snape, then being invited into his private quarters and asked to sit down to talk. Bizarre most likely was not the appropriate word to use, but her brain was not functioning on all cylinders this late into the evening.

And now he was handing her a goblet of deep red wine. She took it, eyed it suspiciously and then glanced up at him.

"Oh, go ahead."

She felt the heat of her blush creep into her cheeks and she drew her wand, casting a short charm to make sure he had not drugged anything. He was the Potions master, after all. She would not have put something like that past him, if he had wanted to obtain information from her. What information, she did not know, but there was never really any telling with Snape.

"Appeased?"

"Quite," she said and took a sip of the wine. He sunk into the wingback chair nearest her, looking at her thoughtfully. She knew well enough that when Snape looked at someone like that, they better run and hide or else. But he did nothing, and only sipped his wine. Was he waiting for her to start? Silence remained until he let out what sounded like a grumble.

"As much as I enjoy listening to the crackle of the fire, I do believe we are here to discuss the book you read," he began.

Hermione nodded and glanced at the fire, entranced by the flames lapping the stone behind and to its sides. She turned her attention back to him and sighed. "I really don't want to discuss the book."

"I had surmised as much," he said, relaxing back into his chair.

"You would," she countered.

He gave her a curious look. "And just what would an insufferable know-it-all like to speak about?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Alright, then, allow me to ask you some questions," he said. "I have a few that have bothered me since you left Hogwarts the first time."

Hermione nodded. "And they are?"

"Why do you insist on speaking out of turn?"

She blushed sheepishly and looked down into the dark liquid in her goblet. Hermione chuckled, nervously. "Well, you know, being friends with Ron and Harry didn't allow me much time to get a word in edgewise. Sure, I was bossy, but I had to be that pushy to even be heard. I suppose it's a habit I picked up because of them."

"Funny you should use the word habit," he said, taking another sip of wine. "My other question was, why were you there?"

"I don't understand the question, sir," she said.

He shifted uncomfortably and looked straight at her before answering. "At the Wizengamot. You were there every day."

She had thought she had stayed well hidden. "I... uh..."

"My, my... Miss Granger is at a loss for words," he mused.

"I was there because I didn't think you were guilty," she stated bravely. "Well, of course you did it, but I knew it wasn't because you wanted to. You may not have always gotten along with Dumbledore, and even resented him at times. You may have even hated him on some occasions. But you were loyal to him. He gave you a second chance. No one had ever given you a second chance before."

He was silent. "How do you know this? How could you possibly piece this together?"

"You underestimate me, sir," she said, just a little smugly.

"That is apparent," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I knew there must have been some way to prove that Dumbledore asked you to do it. He didn't want Draco to suffer through it. Sure, some said he was begging for Harry's life on the tower that night...Harry himself believed that...but it just did not make sense that you would deflect every single curse and hex Harry flung at you as you were escaping, and not get a good jab in there at some point. Something more had to have been going on," she explained.

"Where were you when I needed witnesses in my favor?" he asked.

She stared at the fire, unable to look at him. "Harry and Ron would have disowned me. They were my only friends. I couldn't stand to lose them."

He harrumphed and shook his head. "Imagine, having friends."

"You have friends," she said quietly, taking another sip of her liquid courage.

Snape raised a brow. "None of them true. Most of my friends are either former Death Eaters or at the very least were in Slytherin house. Friendship and camaraderie is not to us what it is to every other house. We had associates who could help advance us. But we were all out for own good."

"So that's what's wrong with you," she said. "It's not that you've never had a friend. You just don't make them like others do."

He rolled his eyes. "I fear that it is really a combination of both."

Realizing that her wine was gone, she considered the goblet for a moment, wondering if she should ask him for more. But she resisted the urge. Good wine or no, she really did not want to wear out her welcome. Or worse yet, she certainly did not want the conversation to go any further, leading into a situation where her foot would end up firmly planted in her mouth. He had been too forthcoming with information already. She couldn't push it. No, she had to build him up to longer stretches of her curiosity.

"I have some things I must prepare for my classes tomorrow," she said softly, standing up. "Thank you, Professor."

He considered her for a moment, and something changed in his eyes. "I've invited you into my private chambers, Miss Granger. I should think that means you can refer to me as Severus."

The allowance was startling, in the least, and she had to do a double take. Did he really mean it?

"S-Severus," she said, trying it on for size. Surprisingly, it fit, and he seemed pleased with it as well.

"But don't let me keep you, Miss Granger," he said.

She nodded and made a hasty retreat for the door. She needed to get out of there before she did something completely stupid. Once outside the door, though, Hermione let out a short chuckle.

It couldn't actually be this easy to break into Severus Snape's psyche, could it?

A sick feeling filtered through her subconscious then.

He knew.