Like Peppermint

A/N: Long time no see!

This chapter is just as much Shanastay's as it is mine. She was a real help in getting me re-Snape-ified in this chapter.

Chapter 19- Like Peppermint

It seemed like ages since they last spoke to each other.

After he had doled out the wine proportionately and they sat back to munch on their meal, their conversation had come to an abrupt end. Hermione had no idea where she should continue the conversation after their exchange about the Greek myth. Did she continue on that line and inch closer to him? Or did she lay off him? Should she play the wilting flower? When she had inched closer to him, just a little bit ago, it appeared to her that his dark eyes had widened tenfold, surprised that she was doing that. Was he scared? Nervous? That could not possibly be. Not with Snape. Something had to be done though, or this date would officially be the worst she had ever had.

She breathed in the aroma of the night around them, shutting her eyes and smiling to herself. It was the first time she had ever gone anywhere without her wand, but she had purposely left it behind. There would be little use of it tonight, and she trusted him completely. Powerful witch though she might be, she knew that if they encountered any threat, he would be the one to push her behind him so that he could block the attack. Not to mention that he knew much more potent, dark magic than she did and would likely do much more damage than any spell she could ever cast.

"Roses are my favorite flowers," she said softly, standing up from her spot and walking toward the nearest bush of small pink roses. "I'm surprised these are still blooming."

"The gardener here is a wizard," he replied. "He uses magic to keep the flowers so well preserved."

Hermione glanced back at him to find him still sitting in his spot and watching her curiously. "So we aren't trespassing."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "He is a former student of mine. Very good, but Gryffindor."

She let out a short laugh and shook her head. "Are we really that horrible, Severus? And tread lightly with your response, or you may not have a second evening out with this Gryffindor."

"Some are better than others," he remarked flatly.

"I see," she said and turned back to the rosebush, moving on down to the next one, admiring the soft pink petals of the tea roses. "Am I one of the better ones?"

Silence reigned as moments passed, but she knew that he was beside her now, the heat of his body radiating through his clothes and teasing her with a curious, almost electric, current she had not felt before around him.

"I should think the answer to that was obvious, Hermione."

She straightened herself, lifting her eyes to his. "Sometimes I still question it."

"And sometimes you are still insufferable," he replied.

Hermione watched his expressionless face for a moment longer before brushing past him to walk further down the line of bushes. He followed her quickly, falling into step beside her, pausing when she did to look at the small blooms. After a few stops, her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

"Severus?" she asked, sniffing the bright orange bud in front of her.

"Yes?"

"What made you despise my House so much?" she questioned. "I've always wondered about it. I know a few reasons, but I just can't see how you could really hate a House that much for wrongs a single person committed."

He sighed heavily, clasping his arms behind his back, taking a moment to consider how to respond. "I hate Gryffindors because of the characteristic arrogance they display."

"That's it?"

"You know of the problems I had with Potter and his band of 'Marauders,'" he answered, tightly controlled, but still with some obvious anger simmering beneath. "I'm sure Potter Junior told you what he saw in my Pensieve that night."

Hermione frowned. "Harry told me many things, Severus, about those Occlumency lessons... and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't get so defensive and bitter with me. I am only asking you simple questions. That's what you do on dates. You talk and ask questions and get answers, so you can get to know the other person better."

He gave her an indignant look, but relented almost instantly. "Then you know some of what happened... the way they treated me."

Hermione pressed on. "But not all Gryffindors were like that. Be honest with me and yourself. Please? What about Lily? She saved you..."

As soon as the words left her lips, she knew she had hit the proverbial nail on the head. She knew in that instant that this was the epicenter of his hate for Gryffindors. He did not hate her House-mates because of the arrogance they openly exhibited, or for what Sirius did to him, or even the way he was teased as a gawky teenager. No, he hated Gryffindors because of a girl... because of Lily Evans... because of Harry's mother.

Suddenly it made so much sense. Why hadn't she ever considered this before? After Harry told her the story of Lily yelling at James to release Severus in the Pensieve memory, she had not thought further on it. She had been too concerned with Umbridge to even really try to connect it all. But now, she understood. She understood his intense hatred for everything Potter... and nearly everything Gryffindor.

The revelation clear on her face, he patiently waited for her eyes to find his. "You see now," he said softly before turning his eyes away from hers as though ashamed.

"She hurt you," Hermione said.

He snorted derisively, his defenses slamming back into place almost audibly. "She did not hurt me. She destroyed me. I loved her so dearly, and all along it was her pity that kept her coming back to me." He whirled on her, eyes blazing with restrained emotion. "Do you pity me, Hermione? Is that why you are here with me?"

"N-no," she gasped, nearly taking a step back under his intense glare. "I can't believe you'd think that!"

"You are so much like she was," he mused. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm not replacing her with you... all while knowing that I will likely lose you to a better man."

Hermione closed the distance between them and placed her fingers lightly to his lips in an effort to silence him for a moment. She had never seen him like this... so raw... so open, yet still defensive. This was all she had ever hoped for in trying to be friendly with him... a trust in each other that they could talk about things other than their profession. But she had not been prepared for this sudden deluge of his past and what was going through his mind. She had not been ready for the flood. She fleetingly wondered if he had let it all out in an unconscious effort to push her away and keep himself from being hurt again.

Resolute, she countered him. "Severus, you aren't going to lose me. We don't even have anything to lose at this point. But whatever this is, you aren't going to lose it to someone like Krum."

Placated for a moment, he visibly relaxed at her words. His hands removed her fingers from his lips, warming the cold digits and wrapping around them securely.

"She was the reason I joined Voldemort... why I hated Muggle-borns," he admitted quietly.

"It's in the past now, Severus," she said. "I don't care. Everyone has decisions they'd rather change, but I don't care. If this continues between us, the only way it will end is because of mutual understanding. I'm not like her. I am not her."

"You are very young," he offered. "What could you possibly see in me?"

Hermione could not believe the level of his insecurity and vulnerability. But it was endearing to see the strong fort built up around him quickly crumbling away because he did trust her... a trust she had believed they had not yet established.

"I see you as my intellectual equal," she answered. "And we're magical. Witches and wizards are longer lived than Muggles, so age doesn't matter."

"But my--," he started to protest again, but she silenced him quickly.

"I don't care what you think you look like, Severus," she said and sighed, masking her slight annoyance.

They stayed like this, in complete silence for some time, staring at the other, wordlessly daring the other to make the next move or say something.

"You came back to the light because of Lily," she said, finally taking up the silent challenge.

"And why do you think that?"

Hermione smiled gently. "You joined Dumbledore after the Potters where killed. You loved her. Even though Harry was the progeny of your worst enemy, you wanted to help him, her son. Of course you could make his life and the lives of his friends a living hell, which you did quite frequently, but you protected him multiple times. That's why in the Shrieking Shack..." She paused, eyes widening, "Oh, it just makes so much sense now. I was so blind... I should have seen it."

"Are you quite finished, Miss Granger?" he interrupted sarcastically, but with a hint of fondness in his voice that had not been there previously.

"I suppose," she relented. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

"Do not be sorry," he murmured quietly. "I happen to find you quite stunning whenever you deduce the correct answer. I always have. Your face positively glows."

Hermione blushed deeply and looked away from him. "You're very different than I expected."

"Well, you should not expect this while we are around others," he teased uncharacteristically.

She chuckled. "I would never expect that. Severus Snape doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve for just anyone to see."

Yet, somehow, she still knew he had not revealed his whole heart. There were still some bits there tucked away, but she was satisfied with what she had received and been allowed to see. What she liked most was that he clearly trusted her.

Trusted her!

"Thank you," she murmured softly.

"For what?" he asked, brows furrowing, a note of confusion in his voice.

"For trusting me enough to tell me this. It means a lot to me." Hermione smiled again before pulling her hands away from his and walking back toward their things.

------

Severus stayed rooted on the spot, watching her. He could not believe he had just let all that come flooding from his mouth. But oddly enough, he was comfortable with the fact that she knew about it. She knew of his past and what he had felt for so long regarding the Potters. He was not alone in that anymore, bottling the rage up inside of him. What stunned him though, was the fact that she was not running away from him now that she knew.

He had thought she would leave him, but she was right. There was nothing between them at this point to lose. Perhaps there needed to be something more certain.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"Putting these things away," she replied, glancing back at him. "It's getting late, Severus. I still have some things I need to do before tomorrow's classes."

His brain did not quite register exactly what she was saying. All he could really focus on was the fact that it seemed like she was rushing to end this... date... with him.

Frowning slightly, she seemed to pick up on that fact, though, and stopped what she was doing. Slowly, she stood from her kneeling position and smoothed the imaginary wrinkles of her skirt over her thighs.

"I'm not trying to run away," she said quietly. Giving voice to his silent fear, she walked back over to him. "I'm being quite serious. After you left me this afternoon, all I could think about was this evening, and I wasn't able to finish my grading."

"Really now?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, taking ahold of his hand. "You're welcome to sit with me while I grade, to see for yourself that I'm telling you the truth. But I can assure you that if you do sit there with me, I will be unable to grade at all."

"Perhaps I should, then," he replied, only half-joking.

Soon enough, everything was packed, and they found themselves back at the front gates of the castle. He had seriously hoped that their evening would not end as quickly as it had, but his professionalism was clashing with his personal life. Did he let her go back to finish her grading and whatever else she had to do for her classes the following day, like a good Deputy Headmaster should? Or did he not leave her and take her mind away from her work? It was a perplexing situation with no clear answer, and he understood now why there were certain rules in place prohibiting those in a working relationship together from becoming romantically involved... especially when this relationship was between a new professor and her superior.

Possible outcomes rolled through his mind. It could end up causing many, many problems for students not getting the full attention they needed, or worse yet, end in his favoritism of her over other educators who had been in the profession much longer than she. Of course he was Severus Snape, and he had never had any trouble seeing things objectively before, but he worried now that his heart was involved. What would happen?

"Has Minerva spoken with you?" he questioned.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "About what, Severus?"

"Nothing," he dismissed, offering his arm to her.

"Are you certain?" she asked and took his arm, falling into step beside him as they walked up the long pathway to the castle, and then inside the main hall.

"Yes," he said, maneuvering her in the direction of her chambers. "If she wishes to speak with you, she will."

Hermione seemed disbelieving of his sudden tight-lipped responses, but he was not ready to discuss it with her. He would rather live happily whatever few days this relationship would last than worrying about Minerva or having Hermione worry.

"Well, thank you for a lovely evening, Severus," she said quietly, parting from him now that they stood in front of the entrance to her rooms. "You are welcome to come in if you like."

"No, but thank you for the invitation," he said resolutely, hoping his desire to join her did not show too much. In the future, he might follow her in, but for now he knew that this step was probably one of the last he was prepared to take.

She giggled suddenly and stood on her toes, kissing his cheek gently. "You can be quite the gentleman when you want."

"Can I?" he swallowed quickly, his throat inexplicably dry. He found himself suddenly... inexplicably... anxious.

"You can," she lowered herself back down onto her heels and smiled, studying his face. "It suits you, too."

"Does it?"

He must have sounded like a dolt, answering her in questions, but his brain did not seem up to working correctly. The only thing he could think to do was wrap his hands about her waist and not let her go into her chambers just yet.

She laughed again, placing her palms flat against his chest, her fingers proceeding to play maddeningly with a button on his coat. Her lovely, inquisitive brown eyes found his again, moving with maddening slowness from her hands to his face. "This is where you're supposed to kiss me, Severus."

Merlin, was she stunning. He couldn't restrain himself and leaned into her, capturing her lips. He had no idea what to do after he had made this move, but soon enough instinct found him, and his lips moved of their own accord. She tasted sweet and spicy... like peppermint.

The initial surprise gone in an instant, he felt her responding to the kiss. And how good it was to feel her delicate, soft lips against his, countering so feverishly.

Her hands now flat on his chest, she pushed herself back and away from his embrace, so that she could meet his eyes shyly. The look was so fleeting that he had little time to catch his breath before she returned with a force that surprised him.

Quickly twining his fingers in her hair, he did not care if he pulled it from its bonds. Moments passed, he was not quite sure how long, though he knew it was certainly too short a time before she pulled back from him again to catch her breath. Her eyes twinkled, her cheeks tinged a slight pink, and her lips were swollen slightly from their exchange.

She was beautiful.

He brushed his thumb across her lips, and she pressed back in a soft kiss. He caressed the swollen petals, his thumb moving across them and down her chin, along her jaw line to twirl a piece of her curly hair around his forefinger. He so wanted to kiss her again. Should he?

Hermione seemed to sense his indecision and gently disengaged from him. "Goodnight, Severus," she murmured demurely.

Before he knew it, he found the wooden door shut in his face.