Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Several days later, Severus realized that he had underestimated the vagaries of fate. Either that, or some kind of spell really was at work. Otherwise, how could one possibly explain the fact that at every meal since that first one – eleven meals and counting, thus far – Hermione had come in and seated herself next to him?

He had hoped that their conversations would get less interesting, over time, but they didn't. He had desperately wished she would say something so utterly stupid that he would lose all respect for her, but she never did. The most annoying thing she did was defend her unworthy friends, and after the second day, they had tacitly put that topic aside.

Instead, she would tell him about the things she was learning in her apprenticeship, most of which he already knew, but for some strange reason, that didn't detract from the pleasure of hearing her tell it. Occasionally, she would even tell him something or ask him a question that got him thinking about things in a different way.

And she was quickly turning into his favorite sounding board for issues and concerns relating to his textbook – ironic, that, considering he had only started the project in the first place to escape unacceptable thoughts of her.

Still, he acknowledged to himself that this increased exposure to Hermione was not helping his quest to excise from his body and mind the lust he felt for her. He decided, therefore, that he would start appearing late for meals, and he would sit between those fools, Trelawney and Binns, if he had to. Apparently, he couldn't count on odds or fate to give him distance from his ever-increasing obsession.

And if it was some sort of spell, well, he would have to take action to counteract that, too. He couldn't imagine who would bother casting a spell to make sure he spent every meal in the company of Hermione Granger, but the constancy of her presence certainly seemed to suggest that someone had done so.

For now, however, he would just start with the plan to be late to meals and see how that went.

Hermione walked into the dining hall and looked around eagerly. As much as she loved her apprenticeship, these meals and discussions with Severus had quickly become the highlights of her day.

Part of her recognized that this wasn't what she was aiming for when she had cast her spell and made her potion – but she just loved being near him. Talking with him was an unexpected delight.

She still experienced that curling heat of attraction whenever he was near; it had become a familiar, delicious discomfort that she welcomed. Oh, she knew he didn't feel that way toward her – he was unfailingly formal with her. He never even suggested that she call him Severus, so it was obvious that he didn't want anything more than a good intellectual discussion from her.

Still, every so often, she caught him looking at her with an expression that she didn't recognize. It wasn't the contempt that she used to see, back in her student days. It also wasn't the sensual look he often wore in her dreams – which were still showing up with alarming frequency. It was something else – something mysterious, enigmatic. It looked almost as though he was trying to read her in some way – as he might assess an unknown specimen in his laboratory. As though he wanted to know her thoughts – which was ridiculous because he probably had the power to read them anytime he wanted, despite her training and practice in Occlumency. She was quite certain that he was a very powerful Legilimens, and she sometimes got so caught up in their conversations that she quite forgot to keep her defenses up.

So the idea that he was trying to figure her out was ridiculous. But she just couldn't make a reasonable guess what else that look could mean.

In any event, tonight, she discovered to her intense disappointment that she had beaten him to the dining hall this evening. Perhaps he wasn't coming at all – he was usually early, not just for meals, but for everything. An annoying habit, sometimes, since he expected everyone else to be early, too, and sometimes she had the sense that he wanted to deduct points for not being early enough to his class. He never had, as far as she could recall, but that didn't change the fact that lateness was totally unacceptable in his view.

She finally took a seat at the end of the table, where they usually sat together. She hoped he would come and join her, until it occurred to her that perhaps this was his way of indicating that he had tired of their conversations and was taking action to prevent her sitting with him anymore.

Sure enough, he came in and sat next to Binns – which was likely because his other options, by the time he arrived, were next to Trelawney or in his usual seat next to her. The disappointment – the implicit rejection – curled through her, and unable to bear anyone looking too closely lest they see the unshed tears in her eyes, she ate alone.

As she did so, she initially thought that she would have to give up her plan and just start eating with someone else. But then the strangest thing happened. She had assumed he would have forgotten all about her – would have ignored her as completely and thoroughly as he did everyone he considered unworthy of his attention.

Instead, he reverted to the way he had been behaving just before the Leaving Feast last spring – he stared.

Intensely.

Constantly.

Arousingly.

She didn't have to look up to know he was watching her, although every now and then she checked her senses by glancing at him, covering the look by tossing her hair back. Sure enough, he was staring. Just as she had in the spring, she could feel his eyes on her. She was rather amazed that he finished his meal without mishap, since she would swear he never once took his eyes off her to glance at his food or locate his drink. He certainly didn't deign to speak to anyone.

Maybe she had done or said something that irritated him – although she had no idea what – in which case, maybe, now that he was apparently displeased with her, he would revert to the rudeness she had initially expected. In that case, this was her chance to set her original plan back in motion. In any event, since she knew distance didn't decrease her infatuation, proximity remained her only choice. If he was going to stop sitting with her, she wouldn't have the chance getting close might give her to get over him.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder once more, glanced at Severus, and decided she couldn't let that happen. She would just have to think of some way to ensure that he would resume sitting next to her at every meal.

Minerva looked back and forth between Severus and Hermione. She was completely baffled by their behavior this evening. For the past several days, they had been sitting together at every meal. They had been thoroughly engaged in conversation with each other, to the total exclusion of the rest of the world. She had been a little surprised by how quickly they seemed to have developed this odd, intense friendship, but she had assumed that her prediction to Severus had come true – once he had seen her as a colleague rather than a student, and had separated her in his mind from Harry and all the other students he had found so trying, he had begun to see Hermione as the bright, intelligent, sensible young woman she was.

Now, suddenly, Hermione was eating alone, and Severus was sitting with people (or ghosts) he couldn't tolerate. Had they had an argument? She couldn't imagine when they would have found the time – Severus was trying to finish his textbook before the students descended on the school and demanded all his time and attention, and Hermione had been extremely busy with Minerva herself.

As Minerva watched, she realized that Severus's full attention was centered on Hermione, despite her physical distance from him. Indeed, he didn't even seem to be making the smallest effort to hide his focus – not that anyone but Minerva herself was paying any attention.

Well, Hermione was, too, she amended silently. Hermione seemed at first glance to be completely focused on her food, but every now and then, she tossed her hair back over her shoulder, using the motion to glance covertly at Severus. If Minerva didn't know better, she would call the gesture flirtatious.

She narrowed her eyes – could it actually be flirtatious? Was this, perhaps, some sort of odd courtship?

She considered their behavior over the last several months, going back to the faculty meeting when Severus had seemed so displeased with Hermione's plan to stay on at Hogwarts. Could that have been due to an unwelcome attraction to the girl, even then?

If it was, Hermione's behavior suggested that the attraction might be reciprocated. It wasn't just the hair tossing today. As Minerva considered the past several days, along with the meeting in her office last spring, she realized that Hermione's discomfort with the subject of Severus hadn't stopped the girl from seeking him out as a meal companion. In fact, she seemed to have initiated their habit of dining together – which made sense because, in Minerva's experience, Severus never sought out relationships with anybody.

Uncharacteristically, Minerva couldn't decide what to do about this, if anything – perhaps because she wasn't entirely sure her conclusions were correct.

Or perhaps because, even if she was correct, she wasn't sure what to think about it. Not because of the difference in their positions – Severus wasn't Hermione's supervisor or anything, so that wasn't a problem. No, the difficulty lay with who they were as people – more specifically, who Severus was. He had been hurt so badly, and he could be so moody and dark. She just wasn't sure Hermione was strong enough to handle Severus at his worst.

Still, it was nice to see Severus take an interest in a woman – it had been so long. Years, in fact – since Lily, as best she could tell. If it worked, he would probably find his soul, his humanity; and Hermione would probably find herself cherished and loved beyond what she could ever have imagined.

On the other hand, if it went badly, one or both of them would wind up badly hurt. And if that happened, one or both of them would likely leave Hogwarts permanently.

And in Minerva's opinion, Hogwarts needed them both.

The meal ended, and Hermione hurried out with Severus's eyes staring after her long after she must have been out of his sight. Minerva still hadn't decided what to do, so she finally decided to continue doing what she had been doing all along.

She would watch and wait.

As Severus got ready for bed, he tried to mentally congratulate himself on how perfectly his plan had worked. He hadn't sat with Hermione, and they hadn't had a conversation, and he hadn't been fascinated.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, he admitted to himself. He had been fascinated – just as fascinated as he had ever been. It had occurred to him, belatedly, as he had watched her eat alone, that she might be confused and even a little hurt by his desertion. He had half-expected her to move closer to someone else and start a conversation, since she was generally rather social, and since the rest of the faculty seemed to find her a pleasant and welcome addition.

But she had just eaten quietly, by herself. She had ignored him quite thoroughly, for the most part. Except when she tossed her hair back, and he wasn't even sure if she looked at him on purpose then, or if it was just a side effect of needing to get her hair out of her face.

Once, he had thought her eyes looked like they were glistening more than usual, and it had occurred to him that he might have made her cry. He hoped not, but he was too far away to tell. The mere thought of it had made his meal taste like he was eating cardboard. He certainly hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings. He had just wanted a chance to get away and get his libido under control.

Which hadn't worked anyway. He had been forced to use every ounce of his willpower to keep himself from using his formidable skill at Legilimency to discover exactly what she was thinking and feeling. And that had left him without enough willpower to take his eyes off her and concentrate on his meal – or to suppress the inevitable reaction of his body to watching her eat. Since when had watching someone eat been such a turn-on, anyway?

So, really, all in all, his attempt at self-congratulation now seemed shallow and almost ridiculous, in light of the way she effortlessly commanded his full attention. There was nothing Severus hated more than feeling ridiculous. Except maybe being forced to rescue that young fool Potter and his friends.

And, sadly enough, he didn't suppose he would mind rescuing Hermione quite so much anymore. Frowning at the thought, he realized that he had actually grown to rather like the girl in the last few days.

Great, he thought, now it won't be just inappropriate lust that I'm dealing with – I'll also be trying to stay away from one of the few people whose company I actually find tolerable.

On that sad thought, Severus got in bed, completely forgetting to take the Dreamless Sleep Draught he had gotten in the habit of taking months ago, when he had had his first rather uncomfortably inappropriate dream about Miss Granger. He spent some time lying in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, debating what to do about Hermione. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

He suddenly realized she was standing by his bed, glaring at him with her hands on her hips. "What do you mean, 'what to do about Hermione?'" she demanded irritably, doing a credible imitation of his own voice. "You know exactly what you should do about me. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

She smiled mysteriously, saying only, "Good." And then she kissed him again, sliding her tongue between his lips, pressing her body against his, so that he felt every exquisite inch of her. He pressed her down into the mattress beneath him and positioned himself at the entrance to heaven. She captured his eyes with hers and whispered, "Oh, yes," and he slowly began to press forward ...

Severus woke up panting and painfully aroused. He immediately decided he must never, ever go to sleep thinking about Hermione. And he must really never forget to take his Dreamless Sleep Draught again.

He tried to slow his breathing, to bring his body under control, but after several minutes, nothing had changed. He couldn't get the image of Hermione's naked form out of his mind's eye, and he couldn't escape the feel of her lithe body pressed against his.

Sighing, he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, resigning himself to an ice-cold shower.