Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! Here's the next chapter. I got the Latin from an online translation tool -- hopefully, it loosely translates as "wizard addition." My apologies if it's not correct.

Also, I'm honored that this story was chosen as a featured story for September 2010. I appreciate the compliment, and I'm glad people are enjoying this tale. Thank you!

Chapter 7

That afternoon, Hermione had trouble focusing on the potion he had provided ingredients for. She kept finding herself sneaking peeks at him, trying to figure out what was with him today. He seemed like he was in a bad mood or something, but he was suddenly offering her even more access to his lab, more time in his company, and a significantly increased level of familiarity. And she had removed both of her chair spells, yet he had seemed irritated that she questioned whether he wanted to sit with her.

She just didn't get it. It almost seemed like he wanted to sit with her. She half-wished she hadn't picked today to stop taking her confidence-boosting potion. She certainly wouldn't have been stuttering and stammering like an idiot at lunch if she had still been taking it.

But she had – foolishly, as it turned out – decided that she should get all magic out of her relationship with Severus, not just the spells she had used to get him to spend time with her. She thought perhaps it was her awkwardness that he used to find annoying, and so, maybe, if she reverted to her normal, awkward self, he would start treating her with contempt again, and then she could get over him.

But even that wasn't going as she had planned. Sure, he had seemed irritated with her at lunch, but apparently, that hadn't stopped him from being willing to have her around. He had practically ordered her to sit down next to him, and then he had invited her to spend more time in his lab with him.

Again, she almost had the sense that he wanted her around, although he obviously didn't want to talk about it.

And what was the deal with the tutoring-that-wasn't-tutoring? Try as she might, she didn't see the difference between what he had described and tutoring.

She decided to test out just how irritated he was. "Severus?" she asked cautiously.

He immediately looked up from his papers, as if he had been waiting for her to call him. "Yes, Hermione?" Her name came out sounding like a purr, and it rolled over her like a caress.

She pulled herself together with an effort. "Um – there seems to be significantly more chocolate here than the recipe calls for."

"Yes, well, I must have accidentally obtained extra. Feel free to take it with you when you leave. I don't want it cluttering up my lab."

"O-okay," she said. Then she asked, "It says to add the grain alcohol and the egg after partially melting the chocolate. I'm not sure how much to melt it ...?"

He dropped his quill on the desk and came to see what she was doing. "You'll want the chocolate to be about two-thirds melted. If it's not melted enough, the grain alcohol will heat enough to catch fire as it melts the rest of the way. If it's too much, the egg will start cooking as soon as you add it."

"Oh, okay," she said, expecting him to go back to his work.

Instead, he waited while she added the remaining ingredients and stirred the specified number of times, then said, "All right, now grab your wand and say, Veneficus eptheca." He stepped behind her and took her wand hand.

She repeated the words, and as she did, he moved her arm with the wand in a zigzag with a clockwise circle at the end. The mixture in the cauldron bubbled and changed color, from dark brown to a translucent tan. "Quite acceptable, Hermione," he said in a satisfied tone, peering over her shoulder at the potion. "It looks as it should." She smiled, pleased with her success – pleased with what, for him, was the equivalent of anyone else gushing with compliments.

Now that the spell had been cast, though, she was suddenly overly conscious of the heat of his body behind her. She fought the urge to lean back into him – she so wanted to feel his arms come around her the way they did in her dreams. Fortunately, he stepped back before she could do anything so foolish.

She turned to face him and said, "Thank you for helping me with this, Severus." Nodding toward his manuscript, she added, "I can't wait to try some of the other potions in there."

His voice was gruff as he replied, "You're welcome to come whenever you like."

"Except when you're teaching, and I'm supposed to let you know when," she replied, reminding him of what he had said earlier. She smiled again.

He cleared his throat and said, "Of course."

"Might I come tomorrow after lunch?" she asked, feeling brave.

"Certainly," he said. "Now, it's nearly dinnertime. Shall we walk together?"

"Sure," she answered. "May I leave the chocolate here? Perhaps pick it up tomorrow?"

"Won't you want it later?" he asked.

"Well, maybe," she admitted, "but I don't want to bring it to dinner."

"We can stop back after dinner and get it for you, then."

"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you suddenly asking me all the time if I mind things that I offer? You weren't doing that before today."

"Oh," she said. After a long moment, she decided she might as well be honest. If he was going to hate her for it, she'd rather it happen now than later, since proximity didn't seem to be making her attraction to him decrease in the slightest. In fact, it was getting stronger as she spent more time in his company. She said, "I might have had a little help in the confidence department before today."

He said nothing, but raised a brow. She continued defensively, "Okay, so I made myself a Confidence-Boosting Potion, and I've been taking it whenever I knew I was going to see you." He looked surprised, so she added with a hint of sarcasm, "You might not be aware of this, Severus, but you can be downright intimidating. And I knew you were opposed to me staying on as an apprentice, so I needed a little confidence boost to deal with you. So what?"

"What changed?" he asked, not commenting on her sarcasm or her defensiveness.

"What?" she asked. She had prepared herself for the obvious question – why would she think she had to deal with him at all? – so his question caught her unprepared.

"What changed?" he asked again. "What made you decide to stop taking it?"

"I don't know," she replied. He waited, and eventually, she said, "I guess I figured if you were willingly letting me come to your lab, you must not hate me as much as you used to."

"I didn't hate you."

"Come on, Severus, of course you did. You hated everyone who had the slightest association with Harry. And I was an annoying know-it-all, too."

"I'll admit you were annoying," he said, and she could swear he was suppressing a smile. "And your taste in friends could do with significant improvement. But I didn't actually hate you – to tell the truth, I generally didn't think about you at all for most of your years as a student here."

"Oh," she said. "What changed?" she asked, deciding to turn the tables on him.

If she hadn't known better, she would swear he blushed. All he said, though, was, "You outgrew your more annoying traits, and your dubious friends aren't constantly underfoot anymore." He gestured toward the door. "Now, unless you want to miss dinner, we should go."

She nodded and preceded him out, and they walked in a strangely companionable silence to dinner.

After dinner, Severus walked Hermione back to his lab to get her chocolate. He sat with her while she nibbled on a bit of it, enjoying her obvious pleasure in its rich flavor.

"This is delicious chocolate, Severus. Are you sure you don't want some?"

"I gave it to you," he replied.

"Yes, but I'm offering to share it," she replied in a teasing tone. "It's really, really good," she added, in a singsong tone that, surprisingly, did not annoy him. Instead, it made him want to kiss her.

He said, "I wouldn't want to deprive you of such pleasure."

She broke off a piece and held it out to him, saying, "Oh, go ahead. You should enjoy life more, you know. You're too serious. And chocolate is a nice, safe place to start."

Safe? he repeated silently. Not the way she ate it. He said, "Life is serious."

That didn't faze her in the least. She said, "All the more reason to take pleasure where you can – you know, in the little things. Like chocolate."

Chocolate wasn't exactly what popped into his mind when he thought of 'taking pleasure'. Still, "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

She grinned. "Nope. Here, try some." She held it up to his lips, and he found himself eating out of her hand. "Now, wasn't that delicious?" she asked.

"Delicious," he echoed, and all he could think of was how desperately he wanted to kiss her.

She stared at him, seemingly aware suddenly of the intensity of his gaze on her. She didn't look away, and he wondered what she was thinking. Without conscious thought, "Legilimens" popped into his mind. This time, however, she was paying attention, and he immediately felt her raise her defenses to keep him out.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "What are you doing? That's not fair – you can't just use Legilimency on me whenever you feel like it!"

He flushed, realizing he had been way out of line. "I'm – I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to."

"What do you mean, you didn't mean to?" she demanded. "You don't just accidentally try to shove your way into someone's thoughts!"

"But I did!" he protested, in a fervent, pleading tone that he had never imagined he would use. "I was just sitting there, and I wondered what you were thinking, and then 'Legilimens' popped into my head."

"Well, stop it. If you want to know what I'm thinking, ask me."

That distracted him from his own defensiveness. "Would you tell me?" he asked, intrigued by the possibility that she might willingly tell him her thoughts if he asked her.

"Maybe," she said. "But even if I don't, no trying to read my thoughts. I mean it, Severus. Don't do it again. My thoughts are mine, and it's my choice if I want to share them or not."

He supposed this would be the appropriate time to tell her that he had already read her thoughts once, but she was already mad. Besides, he didn't want her thinking it was a habit. Suddenly, he felt her trying to get into his thoughts. Apparently, she had picked up some Legilimency somewhere along the way.

"Hey!" he protested, blocking her easily. "If I can't do that to you, you can't do it to me!"

She nodded. "I know. I knew you wouldn't let me in, but it seemed important that you realize exactly what it's like to have someone you trust, or at least respect, invade your privacy like that."

She trusted him? He was amazed at the possibility. "You trust me?" he asked, just to be sure he hadn't misunderstood.

She looked surprised by the question. "Well, yes," she answered. "Why wouldn't I trust you?"

"Most people don't," he replied. "Because I was a Death Eater."

"Well, I do," she said firmly. "You've always behaved honorably with me, and even with Harry, even when you obviously would have preferred not to." She paused, looking at him consideringly. "I don't suppose you trust me?" she asked finally.

He thought for a long moment. "I don't know," he said eventually. "I'm not a very trusting person."

She looked disappointed, but she said, "Do you at least respect me? Even a little?"

"Yes, of course I respect you," he said, surprised she even had to ask. "I don't spend any more time than necessary with someone I don't respect."

She suddenly looked guilty. He watched her intently, giving her the hard stare that had led more than one student to confess a multitude of sins to him, without the need for him to ask a single question. She fidgeted for a moment, suddenly not meeting his eyes. She stared at a point past his shoulder. "About that ..."

"About what?" he asked, not following her.

"About the whole spending time with me thing," she clarified, then stopped. Her gaze skittered over him and then away, looking around at every corner of the room, never stopping.

"Yes?" he finally prompted. "What about it?"

"Well, you might not have exactly had much choice about that," she whispered, and he had to strain to hear her.

"Hermione," he said, growing impatient, "Just look at me and tell me what you did before you worry yourself to death. It can't be that bad."

She continued avoiding his gaze for a moment longer, then finally, she sighed and looked at him. "Um, well, I made it so that you didn't have much choice except to sit with me."

"How?" he asked flatly, trying to figure out what she might have done.

She looked away. "Um – initially, I cast a spell so that none of the other professors would notice empty chairs next to you." She glanced back at him, as if gauging his reaction. She looked poised to flee, as though she expected him to hex her or something.

Instead, he felt himself relax slightly. "That's irrelevant. Most of them prefer not to sit with me anyway." It was certainly true enough – more often than not, he had eaten alone before she had started joining him. But then her wording struck him, and he narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, initially?" She looked away again. "Tell me," he insisted.

"I – um – well, after the other night when you sat across the room – I cast another spell so you wouldn't notice any empty chairs that weren't next to me." Again, her voice was so soft he had to lean forward to hear her.

When he realized what she had said, he stared in shock. He should have been angry – he knew he should – and later, maybe he would. But at the moment, he just couldn't help it – it was so very, unexpectedly, distinctly un-Gryffindor – so very Slytherin, in point of fact – that for several long moments, he could only stare at her as he thought back over the past several days.

He remembered his fleeting thought several days ago about how unlikely it seemed to find himself sitting with her so very often. And he particularly remembered breakfast, when Hermione hadn't been there, and he had thought it odd that there were no empty chairs. Then he had been distracted by his concern for her well-being, and he hadn't thought anything more about it.

As he sorted through his reaction to her confession, he realized that almost no one else could have slipped this past him. A Slytherin certainly would never have gotten away with it, because he would have known to be alert to the possibility. But Gryffindors were usually so forthright, so brash, so lacking in subtlety, that it hadn't occurred to him to consider whether magic might be at play in the sudden frequency with which he found himself in her company. And of course, as much as he had tried to tell himself that he didn't want her around, he obviously hadn't been particularly motivated to keep her away.

So he had missed it completely.

He watched her for another long moment. She was shifting anxiously in front of him, waiting, as only a Gryffindor would, obviously expecting him to explode in rage. But really, he couldn't seem to work up the necessary anger – after all, he didn't find her presence displeasing. If he were honest with himself, he rather liked having her to converse with. Certainly more than he liked conversing with anyone else who might sit with him. If he verbally tore her to shreds, as he probably would do to anyone else in this situation, she would likely never come near him again.

This was not a result he desired.

So, all things considered, he wasn't going to blow up. Instead, he decided to take a page from her book and do something completely unexpected.

He allowed the humor of the situation to come to the fore, and he began to chuckle. The sound was rusty, as one might expect considering how many years it had been since he had laughed. Certainly, for all the years of the war, he had had little enough reason, and now that it was over, he was too accustomed to seriousness to find humor in things. But now, as he thought of her cleverness, her unexpectedly delightful sneakiness, his chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. After several moments, he realized that she was staring at him, open-mouthed.

Which was probably because she had never seen him laugh before, he realized, and that made him laugh harder. Eventually, he calmed himself enough to gasp, "Oh, Hermione, you are unexpectedly much less predictable than I ever believed you to be."

She looked at him doubtfully. She asked, "You're not mad?"

He asked a question in return, still smiling, even though it made the muscles in his cheeks hurt after so many years of disuse. "Do I look mad?"

"Well, no," she said cautiously. "But I really thought you would be mad."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Has it escaped your attention that I've voluntarily invited you here on more than one occasion in the last few days?"

"N-no," she said. "And I promise, I didn't cast any spells to make you do that," she added in a rush.

"I know," he said arrogantly. "If you had tried something more complicated than making me unable to notice chairs, I would have recognized it immediately. It was the sheer simplicity of it that made it work. That made it brilliant, actually. It flew under my radar." He gave her a severe look. "But don't do it again. You're too Gryffindor to pull this off now that I know to look for it."

She blushed. "No, no, I won't. I already decided I wouldn't when I removed the spells this morning."

There was a short silence, then he couldn't resist asking, "Out of curiosity, what made you do that? Remove the spells?"

"Well," she said slowly, and he rather thought her confusion over his reaction was slowing her brain, "two things. One was the same reason that I told you before, about why I stopped the confidence potion. And the other – well, I realized that if I got delayed, you would think there was nowhere to sit, and I would probably get caught once I arrived and you suddenly saw empty chairs that weren't there before."

"Ah," he said. "Like this morning. Which also explains why you were in such a hurry to get to breakfast."

"Yes," she said sheepishly. "It does."

He asked, "Why did you decide to tell me about this?"

"I don't know," she replied uncertainly. "I guess I felt guilty. And I didn't want to lie to you. How will you ever trust me if I lie to you?"

He was surprised again. "You want me to trust you?"

"Well – yes," she said, sounding surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't I want you to trust me?"

"I just don't know why you would care," he said truthfully. "Actually, that's the only thing I don't really understand about all these spells and potions. Why would it matter that much to you to spend time with me?"

She blushed again, seemed to search for words, and then suddenly turned away. "You know what, Severus? I think I'm going to choose not to answer that. It's getting late, and I'm going back to my room." She headed for the door, then paused to look back at him. "I'm glad you're not mad at me. I'll see you tomorrow."

She turned to leave again, but paused when he spoke. He just couldn't resist. "Hermione?" he said.

"Yes?"

"I'll join you at breakfast. No matter how many empty chairs I see."

Her blush deepened, and she said, "Good night, Severus."

"Good night, Hermione." And she was gone.

After she left, he thought about their discussion – about what she had told him, and even more, about what she had refused to tell him.

And wasn't that intriguing?