21: The Interpretation of Dreams

"Well. That was... interesting."

Hermione looked as though she might be ill, but frankly Snape didn't feel too chipper himself. He didn't like performing Legilimency on females precisely because of the unfamiliar sensations in sexual situations. It had been awkward, months ago, feeling Viktor Krum's tongue in his mouth, but peering down lustily at Harry Potter was far worse. Furthermore, reaching down to find Potter equipped in downright equine proportions was enough to unsettle anyone. But this was not the time to be squeamish.

Snape sat up straighter and put his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Tell me, Hermione," he said in a deliberately matter-of-fact tone, "what imbecile convinced you that brilliant women are unattractive?"

She didn't look up, but she frowned thoughtfully at the question. "What?"

"You heard me. Though I expect you can't answer. That myth is all too prevalent; one might as well ask who taught you the meaning of words."

"Severus, no games, please. I'm pulled too thin as it is." Her voice was gravelly.

Snape Noxed all the lights except the fire and settled beside her on the divan, putting one arm around her protectively and the other on the crook of her arm. "Listen to me a moment. No games," he said assuringly. "I don't know how you have interpreted that dream, nor will I presume to guess. But I will tell you how I perceive it. "Will that do?"

She glanced at him nervously and gave a single, taut nod.

"There is a lie which I have never understood, yet it is as pervasive as the air we breathe. I recall the best summary of it from my days in Arithmancy: that brains multiplied by beauty is a constant. Do you understand? A crude claim that one counterbalances the other--that beautiful girls are by necessity stupid, and that brilliant ones are..." There was no delicate way to phrase it, but feeling both the chill and tension in Hermione increase, he knew she had caught on.

"Hear me out, Hermione. As I said, this is a lie, but like all successful lies, it couches itself behind your daily observations. You look at the women on the faculty here, all unwed, childless. The lie chides you, 'Of course they are, they spent themselves on knowledge and books and no man will have them.' You look amongst your peers. The ones who spend their evenings reading Wandless in Love are never short of male companions to escort them to Madame Puddifoot's, or to the lesser-used corridors and quiet crannies. On the other hand, if it hadn't been for Krum, you probably would have been left dancing with the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four at the Yule Ball." She pulled her knees in tighter, and Snape couldn't blame her; it stung him just to say it.

"I shudder to think of what the Muggle world tells you when you go home for the summer. I've heard of it. Whole periodicals advising what to wear if you're too fat, too thin, too tall, too short, too buxom, too flat--never just right. Tips to 'improve yourself' that center on flattery and physical performance--but never on intelligent conversation. I understand it's even worse than Wizard society."

His voice dropped, but he ploughed on resolutely. "Even now, look where you are. In the arms of the most despised man in the castle, arguably the entire country." She glared up at him immediately, but he shook his head. "No! Don't speak. Listen. Whatever you may think of me, Hermione Granger, yours is not a common belief. If anyone learned that you were my... companion, it would only further the lie. 'Ah yes, that Granger girl, far too clever for her own good. She couldn't land a decent man, had to scrape the dregs from the barrel, didn't she?'"

She looked as though she might slap him. "Stop it, Severus," she said in a dangerous tone, but he rested his fingertips on her lips and shook his head again.

"Lies, Hermione. Lies that masquerade as fact, invading reality in ways both overt and subtle, until even those who should know better succumb to their nagging. That dream is just another sycophant, claiming that the lie explains your loneliness when in fact, the lie is the cause of it. That any suitors find you as cold and stony as you were when the Basilisk struck you." He smirked. "A vicious irony, that a giant serpent once rendered you thus; I'm sure your subconscious had a heyday with that."

Her eyes were wide and welling up again. Snape set his hand against her face in time to catch the first tear. I love you, Hermione Granger, and yet even I feed the lie by withholding that truth from you. He lowered his head to kiss her, but thought the better of it and nuzzled the track of that teardrop instead. He was taken aback to find that she let him stop there, and that he rather expected (and wanted) her to offer her mouth to him.

"Severus. There's more to it than that." Another tear followed the first, spreading salty heat against his lip. "I believe you, that is, I mean, I'm sure that's part of it, I guess. But... there's more." He tried to lean back, to give her room to speak, but for the first time her arms flew around him. "No!" she blurted with a shudder. "Just let me say it here."

Snape raised an eyebrow and waited silently for a few moments. What could possibly be left unsaid? "Hermione, perhaps you--"

"Be still, damn it! This is hard enough as it is! Severus, I... oh, bloody hell. I understand what you said, and yes, it's very hard to feel wanted when all people see when they look at me is a brain. But it's not just that. I..."

Bloody hell, indeed. It may be difficult for her to say it, but the suspense was grating on his nerves. He tipped her head up by the chin and raised his wand again; this was going to end now, while her "big secret" was in the forefront of her thoughts where he could find it. "Legilimens."

Seconds later, he withdrew from her mind, fighting not to smile.

She stared at him in outrage for an instant, then exploded. "That was a dirty trick, damn you!" The affront, however, was immediately overpowered by shame; she turned bright red and sank back into the divan, turning away from him. Oh, no you don't! He caught her shoulders using only his palms and eased her back around, ignoring her averted gaze.

"Hermione. Have I now seen the total of your secret?" She gave him a single curt nod. "Look at me." A single shake. "By Hecate, woman, look at me!" Good grief, a shake AND a pout. It was too much. Snape laughed, loud and long, pulling her against his chest so she couldn't strike him or run away or pull some other silly reaction.

"You think it's funny?" she finally squealed. "That I'm..."

"Impotent?" he suggested rather cruelly, but it was all just so absurd! "Or wait, let me see, I believe the proper vernacular is 'frigid,' perhaps? 'An incomplete woman,' according to Wandless in Love, I'm sure. Oh, Hermione," he said with a reproachful laugh. "Do you know how ridiculous you are acting?"

"Do you know you're a complete fucking bastard?" she snapped, looking up at him at last. Ouch! Snape shrugged, still laughing. She was right--but so was he. He clearly had to put off enjoying the irony until a later time, however.

"Listen to me, dear girl," he said solemnly. "I should not laugh, and you must forgive me yet again for being caught off guard. I ought to know better by now; you always manage to surprise me." She scowled furiously; better get to the point. "I'm astonished, Hermione, that you of all people would be so bothered by the simple fact that you've never had an--"

"DON'T SAY IT!"

By Jove, the girl could outscreech a banshee when she put her mind to it. This really was no laughing matter; however irrational her fear, it was nonetheless overwhelming her. Grand. A case for tact, Severus. Ah, well. I suppose I have to start somewhere.

"All right, all right. Come here." He pulled her close once again and resumed stroking her hair until she stopped shaking. "I think, my dear, he said softly, "we need to take a rational approach to this."

"I'd really rather not talk about it anymore, Severus."

He bit back his laughter again. "I believe that. However, since I have never been able to use that excuse successfully with you, I'm afraid it's doomed to fail now with me. Besides, the worst is over, my dear; you have shown me your 'great shortcoming,' so to speak, and to your amazement, I do not despise you for it. Ergo, it can only get better from here, wouldn't you agree?"

"You are such a tosser."

"Indeed. It seems you could do with a bit of tossing yourself." She slammed her hands into his sides with surprising force, but he didn't mind. Better to take it out on me than yourself, beloved.

"I don't know many facts in this area," he began dryly, "but I am absolutely certain that this is not unusual. I'm sure the 'Wandless Ladies in Love' have given you the impression that you should come at the very sight of, say, a bratwurst, am I correct?" She refused to smile, but he could see it wearing at the corners of her mouth. "And I imagine young Mr. Krum made at least some effort toward that end, without success?" No smile this time, but the answer was clear. "So you believe yourself to be sexless and barren, nothing but unfeeling stone between your legs." The tears returned in force.

"Hermione." He shook his head, then leaned to whisper in her ear. "I believe I know better, dear girl. I recall a rather desperate breathlessness here in this very room not too long ago. I daresay that, had circumstances been only a little different, your worries would have been put to rest that night."

She caught her breath, but glared at him. "Damn you! Viktor said the same thing, you know, but he couldn't... make it happen."

"I'm sure he couldn't!" Snape said, in a rare moment of complete sincerity. "He was what, seventeen? Eighteen? And your match in overachieving, nonetheless. I shudder to imagine the determination with which he tried, Hermione. Let me guess: he did not accept failure very graciously."

She bit her lip. "He felt guilty."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course he did. The Quidditch star and champion of Durmstrang, and he couldn't send his girlfriend into the throes of ecstasy. How unmanly. And you, I assume, felt guilty as well? That you lacked the proper feminity to reward his efforts?"

"Why do you always have to be so vicious?"

"Because that is what I am, Hermione. But I will tell you what I am not: I am not fool enough to believe that I can unlock the delicious secrets of your body for the first time. That, my dear, is up to you. Dare I ask if you've ever tried?"

Her defiance disappeared as if Evanesco'ed. She gulped. "Um. I've... read some books..."

"Must I spell it out, then? Have you touched yourself? Jilled off? Stirred the soup?" He knew he was aggravating her, but it was actually rather fun to watch her squirm. She "read some books." I'll bet you have, beloved, but this is one lesson you must learn empirically.

She pulled her head down as though she had a shell in which to retract it. "Not exactly. You know, I live in a room with four other people! I can't just... you know... not in front of everybody! What if someone woke up?"

Oh, to be a fly on the wall in that circumstance... "And when you go home for the summer?"

Her head ducked even further. "With Mum and Dad right in the next room? Good heavens! If the bed creaked, they'd probably think I was having a seizure and come charging in. They're still not entirely sure of this whole sorcery business."

"I see. You would rather live with the constant fear that you are somehow defective, than take a chance at being caught proving otherwise."

"It's not that simple!" she spat. "I mean, what if I try it and..."

"And nothing happens?" He nodded sagely. "I see. If you never try, you will never fail, and thus you can still dare to hope."

Hermione stared up at him, wide-eyed once again. "How did you know that?" she asked heavily.

He smiled grimly. "I have learned a bit about despair in my lifetime."

At last she lapsed against him in a way that felt like his Hermione; gentle but strong, trusting, solid. He buried his face into her hair again to breathe in the scents of summer, and slowly twisted his body to rock her. After too short a moment, he pulled his head back to look at her.

"Hermione, I want you to go in my chamber and close the door. Take all the time you require. I will leave so that you might relax. But I want your apprehension to end tonight. Do you understand?"

She looked as though he'd instructed her to eat something wriggly from one of his ingredient jars. "Oh, no. Not here. I can't--"

"You can, and you will. Get going," he said firmly, withdrawing his arms and pointing toward his bedroom.

"But--"

"No buts! Go!" He took her shoulders in his palms once again and turned her toward the hallway. He gave her a gentle shove in the proper direction, but damned if she didn't have the gall to turn back and face him. Snape clamped a hand over her mouth before she could protest.

"Hermione Granger, if you do not proceed on your own, I shall take you in there and see to it that you do as you are told." And Merlin help me if you call my bluff. Much to his amusement, she got that look of great chagrin, the one in which she normally hid her mouth behind her own hand, but his was still in the way. She was so bloody charming when she did that.

He leaned down to her ear one last time. "Go to my room, Hermione. Touch your body the way I long to touch you. I've been in your mind, dear girl; I know it will happen. I want it to happen here, tonight."

It took all of his will to step away again, but he managed it. He turned on his heel without looking at her and headed straight for the corridor. There was no way he could sit in his office and ponder what was going on behind that bedroom door.