Chapter 11: The Eighth Day

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

A big hug of thanks goes out to VIVAvivacious for the beta of this chapter.

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On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight maids a milking – or so the rhyme goes. It was a ridiculous children's song that was written at least a century before when folk songs were popular. Severus Snape thought they were a waste of time, and quite frankly, spending two weeks at one house with the same people could become irksome, especially to him. The only one who had done nothing to annoy him thus far had been Hermione Granger, the girl who tormented him in his classroom as a know-it-all, overly-eager student.

He was surprised by how subdued she was presently compared to her old, over-confident persona. He found he liked this Hermione slightly more. She was sitting by the closed window on a settee near the fire, a quill stuck in her hair to hold the silky curls piled on her head and another in her hand as she twirled the feather back and forth over her bottom lip. He could see the ink stains on her fingers and thick reference book on her lap.

She was really something, all right.

'Miss Granger, it is past noon. Do you not think perhaps you should eat something? You hardly touched your breakfast, and you would be better off eating something more substantial for lunch,' he said seriously.

He watched her look up at him from her notes and flashed him a brief half-smile. 'I'm sorry – I guess I am just so used to forgetting to eat,' she said sheepishly. 'I get so wrapped up in my work, I lose track of things.'

'I can tell.'

She blushed at that, and Snape felt himself liking it a lot more than he rightly should, with her being his former student and all. He simply smirked at the reaction and waved off her apology. She had no reason to apologize to him, and he said as much before going to the window seat and holding out his hand. He knew if he didn't take the initiative to get her to eat, she would simply forget about it again as she became consumed by her research.

'Thank you,' she said softly, accepting his hand and putting aside her work before standing.

Snape felt a strange feeling shoot up his arm, boiling his blood as her skin touched his, and he didn't know what to think. 'You are most welcome, Miss Granger,' he replied. 'Now off to the kitchen with you, and make sure you eat something. I will know if you have not, and I will punish you if you don't.'

'What will you do? Chain me up in the dining room?' she challenged.

'I might at that,' he said threateningly.

She laughed quietly and let go of his hand slowly. 'Now that is something I would like to see,' she said with a silly grin. 'And I thought you never made an empty threat.'

'I never would,' he purred silkily into her ear, delighted to see the hairs on the back of her neck rise a little.

She cleared her throat a little uncomfortably and took half a step away from him to put some distance between them. He watched as she edged out of the room carefully, not understanding why he had an interest in her at all. She was just another girl – no, woman. But that was it; she was unlike any woman he had ever met. Sure she had her feminine qualities, but he had never known a woman to have her scholarly nature overshadow her feminine side so much. She was more like a mystery than anything.

He sighed heavily and resumed his seat. He really needed to end this ridiculous charade before it was too late. He had no illusions about what people thought of him, and Hermione deserved better than to become entangled in them. Imagine how her reputation would be affected if anyone were to discover she had become friends with Severus "Greasy Git" Snape. No, he couldn't do that to her.

'Are you going to come for lunch, Professor?' piped a small voice from the doorway. 'I know for a fact you haven't eaten yet either.'

He looked up at Hermione and cocked an eyebrow at her in challenge. 'Since when has my health or hunger become a concern of yours?' he asked a little too harshly, as he saw her flinch slightly.

'Since when has mine been yours?' she retorted.

'Touché,' he returned easily.

She sighed and went to him. 'Will you please come down for lunch anyway? I don't fancy spending Merlin only knows how long in a kitchen of Weasleys who think I am too thin,' she pleaded.

He smiled inwardly at the thought that she did not want to go in there alone, that she needed him on some level. Pushing away the treacherous thoughts, he stood from his chair gracefully and looked at her down his long and slightly-hooked nose with his lips twisted into a small sneer. 'Well then, Miss Granger, perhaps you should ask Vector or Lupin to accompany you to the sharks,' he said coldly.

His chest ached as he said those awful, cold words, but he managed to brush past her briskly and stride out of the room without looking back. He knew she would be standing there with a hurt expression, and it made him hurt even more. But he was wrong; she had followed him, and when he felt her hand on his forearm, he whipped around sharply to glare at her.

'What is it, Miss Granger?' he snapped.

She frowned at him then, and he felt his resolve fleeing, but he schooled himself to look stern, despite his distaste at doing so. She put her hands on her hips indignantly and glared straight back at him.

'What the hell is your problem?' she demanded. 'One moment you're being nice to me, and the next you turn around and bite my head off. What did I do?'

He straightened and looked down at her as if her were a student, folding his arms over his chest. He gazed at her, feeling his resolve shatter further, but that wouldn't do. He could not let her become that former war hero that became associated with the wrong people, no matter that she wouldn't even be in the country by the end of the holiday. There were only four more days until they left; surely he could remain cold and detached for that long?

'What did you think, Miss Granger? A few kind words might make us friends? I can assure you that is most certainly not the case,' he spat as nastily as he could, watching as her face became red with anger. 'I am no one's friend.'

Hermione could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, but she took a steadying breath to force them back. She balled her fists and held her arms rigid at her side, both hurt and furious. He would never be able to take that one back. What kind of bullshit was this? He was the one who had kissed her on the cheek!

'You bastard,' she hissed before relaxing her hand just enough to bring it to his face with as much force as she could muster.

She slapped him hard then, enjoying the way he stumbled back slightly at the force of her furious, stinging blow. She stormed away, leaving a stunned Snape standing alone in the hall, clutching his cheek with the imprint of her small hand on it, bewildered that she had actually hit him. He had not expected her to lose her temper so easily, but at least he was sure now she would have no trouble being mad at him and avoiding him for four more days.

He watched as she fled with his heart aching more painfully than ever before. He had no idea he could even feel like that, or at all sometimes. He wanted to call her back and apologize, bow down at her dainty feet and beg for forgiveness, kiss her until she was breathless if she ever relented. But he didn't. For her sake and for his own, he would let her go to her room, ignore him, pretend she never knew he existed, and lapse back into her life before this Christmas.

Turning on his heel, not quite as sharply as usual, he fled to his room, seeking the quiet solace it offered him. The only place the Weasleys had silently agreed not to go to for the holiday, and he was never more grateful. Stopping in the bathroom, he cast a charm over the red handprint on his right cheek, making the color change back to normal but still allowing himself to feel the sting and force of the blow. He deserved every bit of pain she wanted to inflict on him.

Finally, he made it to his room and dropped into the armchair in front of his own fire, burying his head in his hands. The door locked as he murmured a wandless charm, and he closed his eyes to ward off the impending headache. He would have a migraine by dinnertime at this rate. But what did it matter anyway? Leaning back, he fell asleep after only a little while staring at the ceiling.

When he woke, it was dark, and someone was knocking on his door. He looked at his watch and saw it was dinnertime, and he jumped up, feeling a little hungry after neglecting to eat all day. When he went to the dining room and sat down in his seat, he noticed one of the chairs was empty while everyone else was gathered. Hermione. 'Where is Miss Granger?' he asked in a voice schooled to disguise his concern.

'She has left us, Severus,' Molly said softly, sniffing back a small sob.

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A/N – Yes, it is sad to have Hermione leave, but necessary. More will be along soon.