Chapter 2 - The Partnered Adagio

Pas de Deux

Chapter 2 – Partnered Adagio

It was much too warm to sleep and it would be pointless for Hermione to spend a few hours tossing and turning when it could be better employed. Holding up her watch to the window, she saw that it was a quarter to one in the morning. She squinted to see through the shadows and slowly was able to make out the form of Miss Weasley. She stared enviously at a lightly snoring Ginny Weasley wishing that she shared the younger girl's ability to sleep the moment her head touched the pillow. Since she was used to keeping late hours and living with very little sleep, she would put the time to the worthwhile pursuit of education. She had been doing so while she had been at Hogwarts. Managing to cough out homework and engage in constant revision while running about the school for multiple classes taught her the value and merit of studying at night. It was a quiet and intimately private endeavour. There was no one to interrupt her with requests for pointers on homework. There was no one to cut short her explanation with a less than rousing discussion on Quidditch. "Thank you, time turner for showing me the delights of the night!" she thought as she picked up The Standard Book of Spells Grade 5, some pieces of paper and a pencil. Studying at night did have its drawbacks though – she frowned while trying to make as little noise as possible. One had to be respectful of others' desire to sleep. It would not be nice to disturb them while they were sleeping. Closing the door quietly behind her, she balanced her things in her arms and tiptoed to the kitchen.

She need not have taken much care in trying to reach the kitchen without waking all the present inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place, for Ron was already there with Harry. Harry squinted at her through his sleep laden eyes and yawned a salute. Ron eyed her curiously, surprised that she braided her bushy hair to sleep. "What are you doing here with that book?" he asked. Hermione set her book and writing material down on the dining table.

"I couldn't sleep and you know Ginny can't sleep when the room is lit so I thought I'll study here," she said, her eyes darting from Harry's sleepy form to Ron's chocolate smudge nose.

"Honestly, 'Mione. I don't see the point of memorising all your books before the term opens, we'll be going through them anyway," said Ron as he tried to help Harry put a glass back in the sink.

Hermione was affronted; Ron's comment was as callous as his remark on her noticeable lack of friends in their first year. "And I don't see why the world should revolve around Quidditch!" she retorted, opening her book at the same moment Harry banged into the dining table. "Goodness Ron! You let Harry come down here without his glasses! What sort of friend are you?"

Harry ricocheted off the table and bumped into a cabinet before Hermione gently led him to a chair and coaxed him to sit down. "Do you want to wake your mother?" she hissed.

"Oh, right!" mumbled Ron sheepishly as he flushed as red as his hair. "Didn't think of that. But Harry wanted a glass of water."

Hermione snorted derisively as she flipped a page, "You are a poor liar, Ronald Weasley! If Harry wanted water, he would have put on his glasses and be a lot more awake than he is now. What is it this time? Spying on Fred and George's nocturnal experiments or trying to steal some food?"

"Erhm...I was hungry and I didn't want to come down alone so I asked Harry," mumbled a scarlet Ron, looking uneasily at his feet. Harry had by then, dropped his head to the table and was sleeping soundly.

"Look at him now," hissed Hermione, careful not to wake the boy beside her. "Do you think it was fair asking him to come down here just because you were afraid of being alone in the kitchen?"

"Ew!" he exclaimed, ignoring her question, "He's drooling! Gross! Not as disgusting as spiders, but ew...gross!"

Hermione looked up in a silent prayer before instructing firmly, "Eat a few biscuits and take Harry back to your room!"

Ron watched her read the open book when he commented, "You're a bossy thing, 'Mione and don't you think you can appreciate Quidditch a little more?"

Hermione rolled her eyes with barely suppressed irritation. She knew exactly where the conversation was going. "I don't ask you to appreciate books more, do I? There is more to life than Quidditch! You have to respect what I like just as I respect your Quidditch craze."

"I don't follow," said Ron blankly with some nervousness.

"Do we meet on any level, Ron?" asked Hermione with a frown. "Would you have become friends with me if I hadn't lied about the Troll? Would you have followed me to the library if I didn't check your homework? Would you have noticed my gender if it wasn't for Viktor Krum and the Yule Ball? The answer to all these questions is NO. An emphatic NO to every one of them."

"What are you trying to tell me, 'Mione?" quizzed Ron, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

"I am not romantically interested in you. Ron, I like you very much, but I don't love you the way I do books," she explained patiently. "Let me be honest, the way you hang around me and from what Harry's been telling me, I'm...uncomfortable."

"Tell me what you want and I could try to change," he pleaded.

Hermione stifled a laugh. "You wouldn't be you anymore if you changed. You would be unhappy and what's the point in that? You cannot turn into someone like Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape."

"Ew," he cried, his face wrinkling in disgust. "They're old, and Snape is an evil greasy git!"

She laughed in spite of her desire to smack Ron on the head. "They are not old! Professor Dumbledore is sensible, kind and thoughtful. He knows when to joke and when to be serious. Professor Snape is a walking library of knowledge. He is impartial, well-intentioned, observant and logical. Imagine what he could teach one! And both share a great sense of responsibility. They are not the sorts who will change a woman to suit them. One will never feel uncomfortable in Professor Dumbledore's presence and one can never feel neglected in Professor Snape's presence. The latter may appear to be nasty, but it proves that he notices one and cares enough to point out one's mistakes."

"But Snape! Ew! But Hermione, I think I love you!" declared stoutly.

"You think you do. More than Honeydukes' chocolates? C'mon Ron, we'll always be friends you know, you, Harry and me."

He smiled weakly, "You really think even if..."

"Ron!" she exclaimed with exasperation. "There has never been anything."

He smiled wanly at her with comprehension and regret, "Okay then, I'd better take Harry back upstairs then."

"Use a levitation spell, don't wake him," she instructed and returned to her reading.

A pair of steely black eyes wandered across the kitchen from their hidden position. The owner of those eyes thought that he had witnessed a most interesting turn of events. So, young Weasley's suit did not meet with success. Just as well, Weasley wouldn't know how to appreciate a tenaciously intelligent female. He was clearly a selfish pig too, if he dragged someone, whom he considers his friend, out of bed when the other is tired. Evidently, Weasley lacks the sense and common courtesy of Miss Granger. Look at her, studying and making her notes away from everyone else, careful not to wake anyone. She should be applauded for having the right priorities for her age. Miss Granger was not a schoolgirl governed by her hormones.

The eyes followed the movement of Hermione's pencil as she scribbled something. "A fruitful evening all in all," thought the eyes' owner as he noiselessly emerged from the shadows of the back door. "In addition to the information from tonight's Death Eater meeting, I've learnt that Potter drools in his sleep. What an interestingly riveting discovery! I can appreciate Miss Granger's simple looks in this light, her hair neat for once. I have always respected her penchant for learning. I have recently come to admire her methodological mind. This morning, I am pleased to discover that she is not governed by the usual desires of females her age for beaux. All she wants is to study and get the grades for them so that she can do something worthwhile with her life. She is an intelligent creature." He swept noiselessly past the cabinets and sat opposite Hermione, exhaustion written plainly on his face. He gripped the table tightly to steady his shaking hands. The movements made Hermione look up in annoyance. He smiled inwardly – so the girl was like him – she was obsessed with proving herself academically; she's obsessed with her studies and she doesn't like to be interrupted while working. He was struck how very much like him she was in these respects.

"Professor Snape," she said with concern, noticing his trembling hands, heightened pallor and tattered black travelling cloak over his Death Eater's robe. "Are you all right?"

"Quite," he answered quietly still holding tightly onto the table. "I'll make you some coffee; you'll feel better," she said proceeding to cast a spell on the kitchen utensils for the same purpose.

"I don't need mothering," Severus replied quieter than before. "I am NOT one of your friends."

"But I am not mothering you, sir," she retorted, placing a steaming hot cup of coffee in front of him. "I'm concerned. You are paler than usual. Have you lost blood? She studied his face closely, hoping to catch his ailment while attempting to soothe his dark mood.

He scowled and narrowed his eyes, saying nothing.

"You've been subjected to the cruciatus, haven't you, sir?" she asked, her eyes resting on his trembling hands.

"Insufferable know-it-all!" he spat violently, lacing his fingers around the coffee cup in a bid to stop them shaking uncontrollably. "The remnants of it are not your concern!"

"Still," she offered quietly, "You should inform Professor Dumbledore if you're hurt."

"Do you think, girl, he will care if I die? He needs me for information, nothing else!"

"Much more, sir. Professor Dumbledore worries about you." Then she added quickly, "We all do. Tonks says you misinform Vol...(he glared, she lowered her eyes), I mean You-know-who and his followers. You put yourself at great personal risk."

"We, Miss Granger?" I did not know my presence was universally missed. Qualify your statements, silly girl," he said, hiding his amusement at her discomfiture.

"Has the You-know-who found out? The cruciatus..."

"I am alive, Miss Granger. What does that tell you?" he asked in a cold and arch manner, staring down at her from his hooked nose.

"He's punished you then!" she exclaimed, shocked by the realisation.

"Very observant!"

She whispered lowly in as if conspiring to plot against someone, "What did you do?"

"Did I have to do anything?"

"What didn't you do then!" she spat with annoyance.

"None of your concern, Gryffindor know-it-all."

Hermione frowned and looked him in the eyes. "I'll tell you a secret in exchange for yours. You have my word, Professor Snape."

"Your word? What good is your word?" he mocked as he curled his lips in a light smirk.

"Because the secret involves you," she said as she felt his eyes boring into hers.

"It will be nothing that I don't already know," he responded evenly, hiding his intrigue at his student's sincerity.

"I'll tell you anyway. I stole from your private stores in Second Year, not Harry. I was brewing polyjuice for...nevermind what for."

"I know," he said dismissively, drinking the coffee whilst trying to still his lightly quivering hands. "You failed in your attempt. You were a cat, I believe."

"It worked for Ron and Harry!" she exclaimed indignantly.

So, he thought as he raised an eyebrow, she took pride in her work. Rightly so, it was a complicated potion; not as complex as Wolfsbane but complicated all the same.

"Well, sir, I've told you something; it's your turn to reciprocate," she continued, still gazing directly into his hard unblinking eyes.

"I will not answer to a fifteen year old!" he hissed restraining himself from bellowing.

"Sixteen actually, time-turner usage for a year, remember?" she corrected sternly in a manner worthy of Minerva McGonagall.

"Listen, girl – what I do for the Order outside of Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place is strictly between the Headmaster and myself. Do you understand me?" he snarled, glaring at her, hoping that her glaze would flinch.

"Yes, sir," she muttered demurely and received a glare from Severus. Ignoring his stony glare, she continued, "I think you're very brave for doing this. Showing Mr Fudge your mark, being a spy and a dedicated teacher. You may feel that you have to prove yourself to Professor Dumbledore, Sirius (Severus snorted at this juncture) and the rest and maybe even yourself (he started with a sudden movement); but I think your dedication to us, your students, warrants more than respect and admiration. It deserves our respect and admiration. It deserves our respectful affection so to speak. When Professor Karkaroff burst into the classroom last year to speak to you on Vol...I mean, you-know-who's return, you didn't follow him or initiate a discussion of the topic. Instead, you told him not to interrupt your lesson. You protect your students, sir, and you strive to give them your unwavering and undivided attention in providing us with your brand of quality education. You deserve more than thanks and you should command more than strong dislike and fear. Your actions, at least to me, command a respectful affection."

"Miss Granger, was that eulogy necessary when I still breathe?" Severus snarled with a smirk. Hermione thought he seemed to have coloured a little with the smirk but blinked and saw his scowl and sallow pallor once again.

"Well, sir, I can honestly say that I trust you and should you ever need a listening ear or someone who will not shy away from your, erhm...very direct communication methods; I will be honoured to provide you with a friendly ear," she said, reaching over to take his cup to the sink.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said emotionlessly, even though he had an odd feeling in his stomach. He ignored the knotted feeling and mentally reasoned that it was the effects of drinking coffee on an empty stomach. "You already have my respect; some things, however, are not meant for the ears of children.

"If you say so, sir," she sighed, overturning the clean cup on the kitchen counter before stifling a yawn.

"I advise you to retire for the night. Return to bed, Miss Granger, you look tired."

"So do you, sir," she answered with a sheepish grin.

"Keep your new even teeth to yourself, silly girl, or I'll turn you into a human beaver as Malfoy did," he growled through his teeth and tired black eyes.

"Very well, Professor. My discretion is assured," she said with another yawn as she offered her hand. "Good night, Professor Snape."

He stared at her extended outstretched hand and flickered his gaze to her eyes. He read only warmth, sincerity and sleepiness there and looking deeper into her mind, he saw that she would keep indeed keep her word. He took her hand and shook it firmly, "Good night, Miss Granger, you have earned more than my respect this evening – you have now earned some of my trust."

She smiled weakly and gathered up her things from the table. He had returned to his seat and was lost in his thoughts, tracing his lips with his long tapered finger.

"Sir?" she asked when she was the doorway. "There's a hole in your cloak; it looks like something burnt through it."

"No doubt, you singed it," he articulated carefully still staring into space and tracing his lips. "As you had in your zeal to protect Mr Potter five years ago."

Severus heard her gasp and mutter a "but that was for...oh, nevermind..." and a final goodnight. He mentally followed her footsteps up the stairs. He reflected on his late conversation with Hermione and he realised that he had spoken a half-truth. She had singed a part of him; she had burnt and branded something in his mind and in his soul; and she did not know she had done so. Oddly enough, he did not notice the searing mark until a few minutes ago. Severus Snape shuddered uncomfortably at the knowledge that his soul and mind were touched by an insufferable Gryffindor know-it-all's sincerity.

Footnotes:

Pas de deux or grand pas de deux is formal five-part ballet sequence for two dancers: (1) the entrée (2) ballerina's partnered adagio (3) male solo (4) female solo (5) coda.

I know the scene may appear a little discordant but bear in mind that I wrote chapters as I would direct a ballet piece. For the second chapter, the ballerina's partnered adagio, I introduce the female lead with some of the other secondary dancers before allowing them to depart on the arrival of the male lead.

This second segment opens at the beginning of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix