Chapter 14: A Dangerous Mindset

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.

Thanks to VIVAvivacious for the beta of this chapter.

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The clock on the mantelpiece was ticking away, setting a beat in the room, which had been silent save for the soft sound of breathing.

Snape looked up as the clock began to chime, noting it was a quarter past five in the evening. He glanced at the armchair adjacent and saw his companion had nodded off in the chair, curled up with her head resting on one of the arms and her knees pulled into her chest tightly. He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the sight and tried to curtail the errant emotions that bubbled within him. Now was not the time to go ruining the agreement he and Hermione had come to. Not when she needed and trusted him so much.

Merlin knew he had come to admire Hermione more than he really ought to, especially with the situation they were in. He knew it would have been wrong for him to take advantage of her in the wildly uncontrollably emotional state she was in. She was so stubborn and intent upon having her revenge that it scared him a little. He would not want to be Greyback on a regular day, let alone the day Hermione Granger hunted him down and had her revenge upon him.

Her magic was still unstable, and once unleashed, it would hit at full force without any form of restraint whatsoever.

Unable to resist the temptation, Snape allowed himself the diversion of watching Hermione as she dozed. Her breathing was soft, barely audible, and the little puffs of air that passed through her lips blew gently at the loose curls that had come out of the knot she had tied her hair into at the back of her head. With her hair hanging down over the other side instead of obscuring her neck, he was able to soak in the pale column of her throat. She was such a pretty thing – far too pretty to have such darkness growing within her. Very few men of her generation would be up to the task of meeting her needs now, which was such a shame. She deserved to be with a young, whole man.

The clock chimed half past the hour, and Snape was finally roused from his silent admiration of her. Standing from his chair, he covered Hermione quickly with a soft throw rug and made his way out of the room down to the basement to begin working on the last few stages of Voldemort's potion, which required the addition of ingredients. After that it would simply be a matter of time before they could use the charm Hermione had created and see if the results were as sound as the theory.

They were her calculations, so he didn't have any doubts they would be correct.

Once he had the burner set up beneath the cauldron, he lit the flame and removed the stasis spell once the temperature was correct. Within an hour, the potion was bubbling away happily, and Snape was chopping and slicing up his ingredients in preparation to add them. When it was finally time, he took up a glass stirring rod and placed it in the cauldron, followed by all of the ingredients in order, stirring occasionally to prevent the brew from turning into a lumpy mess, which would effectively render it useless.

He was unsure as to how long he had been down there, but he heard a knock on the door upstairs before it opened and Hermione walked down.

'I made some dinner,' she informed him quietly.

He blinked, taking in her state of dishevelment. Her hair was still slightly tousled from her nap in the study, and her jeans and sweater were rumpled. He checked the time on his pocket watch and noted it in the journal before turning the heat of the flame lower and gesturing for Hermione to lead the way up the stairs. Despite her own dishevelled appearance, she had managed to put together a fairly decent meal consisting of fettuccini with white sauce, salad, and herb bread on the side. She had even set the table with a cloth he had not been aware of owning with matching silverware and ceramic plates.

'I didn't know you could do this,' he murmured, inhaling the aromas appreciatively. 'This is impressive.'

She flushed a little at his compliment and indicated they should sit down and partake of the meal. Once seated, Severus did the gentlemanly thing and began to serve her first, spooning a generous amount of the sauce over the pasta before doing the same with his own. Sensing there was something missing from the table, he realised there was nothing to drink with the meal and immediately stood. He went to the pantry and searched around the top shelf until he found an acceptable bottle of white wine. He cast a cooling charm over it to chill the beverage to the correct temperature to serve it and Summoned two wine glasses from the cupboards.

'I hope you like Moscato,' he murmured as he filled both glasses and passed one to her.

She swizzled the wine just a little and took a dainty sip, testing the flavour like a connoisseur before nodding her approval. 'It's lovely and sweet,' she informed him. 'It's a very nice accompaniment. You have good taste, Snape.'

'I should think by now you might have assumed to call me Severus, Granger,' he said, a hint of teasing in his tone.

'I don't know if I would be comfortable doing so if you're going to continue to call me Granger or Miss Granger as though I were still a schoolgirl,' she rebutted swiftly.

'Touché,' he said, raising his glass to her before taking a hefty swallow.

They continued the rest of their meal in silence except for the occasional scrape of cutlery against the ceramic of the plates. Snape wasn't so sure where she had found all his rarely used kitchenware, but it was nice and different to be eating a proper home-cooked meal off decent flatware for once. The pair usually survived on soup and quickly thrown-together sandwiches they took turns making. Matching plates had never been a necessity for those sorts of hastily-consumed meals.

After finishing his food, Snape sat back in his chair and patted his full stomach in satisfaction. He desperately hoped she hadn't made some sort of dessert also. He was certain he would turn it down if she offered. Across from him, Hermione was also sitting back in her chair, hands folded over her own scrawny midsection. He took note their meal was already having a positive effect on her colouring. She was desperately in need of more nutrients, and he was going to ensure she got them.

'Thank you, Miss Granger,' he murmured with a barely-there smile. 'That was very good indeed.'

The smile he got in return lit up her face, but he noted it still failed to reach her eyes. 'I am glad you thought so, Professor,' she replied. 'I was a little nervous. I wasn't sure what you would like.'

'Well, I thank you again for going to the effort,' he murmured. 'Seeing as you were so kind to provide the meal, I insist you allow me to take care of the cleaning.'

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but a look from him silenced her and she simply nodded. 'All right, if you insist,' she said quietly. 'I suppose I might just go upstairs and bathe before I have an early night. I've been feeling a little tired all day.'

'You overwork yourself, Granger,' he chastened, shooing her out of the kitchen before she could begin to protest again.

Once she was gone from the kitchen, he withdrew his wand from his sleeve and gave it a flick, sending the dirty dishes to the sink that was now filling with water. He collected the serving dishes with food manually and put the various leftovers in containers that could be kept in the refrigerator for later consumption. Once he was satisfied that the kitchen was scrubbed clean, he went back down to the lab to check on the potion.

He remained down there, watching over the softly simmering potion, losing track of time completely. Snape hadn't been aware when he had fallen asleep, but he awoke abruptly with a crick in his neck, having dozed off with his head on his arms that were rested on the bench in front of him. Taking note of the time, he put the potion in stasis and quickly cleaned up his workbench and equipment, placing the cauldron in a dark closet for safekeeping. He made his way upstairs and straight to his room, where he fell on top of his bed, still fully dressed, and fell into exhausted sleep once more.

The next morning, Snape woke up feeling a little disoriented. The weak morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains. He grumbled to himself, kicking his dragonhide boots from his feet and listening to the satisfying thump they made as they hit the floor beside the bed. It took him another ten minutes until he was ready to go to the bathroom and make use of the facilities and shower. Uncaring of whether Hermione would see him clad in only a towel, he made the journey back to his bedroom that way.

Once he was freshly dressed in a new pair of black slacks with a white button down tucked neatly into his trousers, he threw on the first frock coat he found in his wardrobe and walked down to the kitchen without bothering to button it. He was in such careless mood that morning; he couldn't care less if Granger would keel over from the shock of seeing him in such a casual state of dress.

When he arrived to the empty kitchen, however, with no other sounds in the house save for the ticking of clocks in various rooms, he felt discomfort pool within him. The discomfort increased tenfold when he saw a neatly folded square of parchment on the table with Hermione's purple wax seal pressed to it, a weight like a tonne of stone in the pit of his stomach. Cautiously, he approached the table and plucked the offending letter from the wooden surface, rubbing a thumb over his name written in her neat script.

Flicking the wax open with a thumbnail and unfolding the note, fear scattered through his veins like a fast-acting poison.

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Severus,

Hermione

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'Fuck!' he swore loudly, slamming the letter down onto the tabletop hard.

Why did the thrice-damned woman have to go ahead on her own that way? Grinding his teeth together, he cursed, curling his fingers around the parchment the still had his hand on and crumpling it into a ball that he through across the kitchen. He cursed Gryffindors for being such foolhardy and stubborn creatures. He did not know what he would do with himself if she were to be harmed in any way. It was obvious to him now that she was more than just a charge and protégé to him. His chest ached painfully as his mind turned over the various different situations she could find herself in. Greyback could outwit her and turn it around so he had the upper hand. She would not be able to stop him if he attempted to rape her.

'Fuck it all,' he swore again, dropping heavily into one of the chairs at the table. 'Hermione...'

She would never forgive him if he followed her. He knew this, but his hand itched to pull the ebony wand from his sleeve and make that little Apparation anyway.

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A/N – Oho, we're finally getting somewhere.