Chapter Thirteen: Expectations and Confrontations

Disclaimer: Characters and settings you recognise belong to JKR. Any naughty thoughts the characters have are mine, because she doesn't do naughty.

Chapter Thirteen: Explanations and Confrontations

"Take this to Professor Severus Snape, but fly around a bit first in case anyone spots you coming straight from here. Okay?" Hermione stroked the back of the little brown owl's head, hoping the intelligence she saw in the magical creature's black eyes was not a product of her imagination. After watching the bird swoop off in a wide arc over the Forbidden Forest, she made her way back down the stairs in search of dinner.

"Where have you been, 'Mione? We tried to find you after Potions this morning, but you'd disappeared, and you didn't turn up for lunch either." Ron waved his laden fork at her as he spoke.

"Put the fork down, Ron; you'll drop food everywhere. Do I have to explain my every move to you boys?" At their joint nod, she sighed, looking past their heads to the amused expression of her Potions partner. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she turned her attention back to her friends. "All right, if it'll keep you happy. Blaise and I finished early, and Snape let us leave. After that, we had Transfiguration, which you know perfectly well. You were there in body, if not in mind. Really, was today's task so very difficult?"

"But, 'Mione─"

"Hush. I'm not finished. After Transfiguration, I had some references to look up, so I grabbed some sandwiches before you showed up for lunch and ate them on the way to the library. This afternoon I had Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Happy?" She served herself some roast potatoes and passed the platter to Ginny, who winked.

"We will be when you stop smirking at Zabini. What's got into you lately?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps she's realised there's more to life than schoolwork?" Ginny asked as she serenely passed the potatoes on.

Hermione's mouthful of pumpkin juice almost choked her as she met the redhead's eyes. You have no idea what's got into me, Harry, and I guarantee you don't want to know.

"But, 'Mione, Zabini's a Slytherin." Ron's plea was not particularly effective through half-masticated potato.

"What's wrong with that?" Neville joined the conversation from beside Ginny. "Didn't Headmistress McGonagall advise us all to put aside our house prejudices and look for the person underneath?"

"Is that what you've been doing? Exploring Draco Malfoy's hidden secrets?" Ron stole a glance across the room to where the blond in question was surrounded by several Slytherin senior girls. "Looks like you've got competition."

"Don't be daft, Ron. Draco's not so bad when he forgets to be snooty and all." Neville shook his head and turned back to his dinner.

Hermione glanced up at the High Table as Snape slid into his seat well after everyone had started eating. He looked annoyed, frustrated, and tired, and she felt her hands itching to sweep his hair from his face to reveal his expression.

***

Snape's scowl successfully cut short any questions from his colleagues about his tardiness. Having spent the time since his last class once again engrossed in his past student registers, he had arrived hungry and frustrated. The only ex-student witch he had taught in the previous ten years who fitted the criteria of curly, brown hair, intelligence, and the correct birth date was Penelope Clearwater. No. It's not Miss Clearwater. Grace is too comfortable with her own body and mine. Miss Clearwater was a prude, just like the Weasley prat she doted upon.

Brooding over his stodgy meat and vegetables, Snape startled when a small brown owl swooped past and dropped an envelope on his plate, then perched on the edge of the table with a slight wobble. Damned owls, why they can't deliver letters onto the table is beyond me. Taking a small piece of beef, Snape offered it to the owl, noting the bird was missing one talon from its left foot as it launched itself back into the air. He slit open the envelope with his wand and extracted the letter as he chewed on his own food.

Dear Severus

Grace

Expelling his breath with a hiss, Snape shifted in his chair and glanced around at his colleagues, relieved to find no untoward interest in his mail. He tucked the envelope into his pocket with care, a tiny smile softening his expression as he began eating food now tasting far more enticing.

Down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione had tensed as she watched her Potions master open and read the letter. Gods. That was me. He smiled for me.

"Oi, wonder what old Snape's up to?" Ron asked, nudging Harry.

"No idea, but he seems happy. It's not bloody natural. Can't be anything good."

Hermione snapped as the tension accumulated over the previous days finally reached boiling point. "Don't be so fucking awful! Professor Snape is as entitled to be happy as anyone else here. I can't believe you two!"

Ron stared, mouth open and eyes wide. "Harry. 'Mione swore at us again."

Harry grinned. "You know, I think we're finally having a positive influence on Miss Goody-Two-Shoes here." He ignored Hermione's huff of exasperation and held up his glass for a mock toast.

Shaking her head, Hermione glanced up to see Blaise looking from Snape to her with a knowing smirk.

At the High Table, Snape's eyes narrowed as he noted the exchange between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. What are those two plotting? Merlin help us if the Gryffindor know-it-all and my most devious Slytherin start combining their talents. I think I might retire.

***

Blaise warded the door and added a Silencing Charm for good measure. Turning to the nervous girl pacing the floor, he drawled, "Well?"

Hermione sighed. "Are you sure you want to get involved?"

"I'm already involved, Granger, so you might as well spill."

"It started when I applied for a holiday job posing for a supposedly Muggle artist..."

In fits and starts, Hermione related the general gist of the events of the summer to an increasingly amused Blaise, feeling the weight of deception lifting from her shoulders as she spoke.

"Let me see if I've understood this correctly. You turned up for the interview using a Glamour, found Snape was the artist, yet still went ahead and took the job?"

Hermione nodded, eyes on the floor.

"Then, when he was obviously attracted to you, you didn't run for the hills?"

Another nod.

"Well, you've got guts, Granger, I'll say that for you. No wonder you were Sorted into Gryffindor." Blaise stretched his long legs in front of him as he leaned against the teaching desk. Tapping a finger to his lips, he frowned. "But why didn't you enlighten him then?"

"I know. I should have. But by then I was too invested in the exhibition. You should see his work..." She paused when she saw the glimmer in Blaise's eye. "Or maybe not. But he's so talented. It would have been a crime not to finish the collection, and if he'd found out who I was..."

"He'd have run a mile."

"Exactly. And by the time we'd done the last paintings, the intimate ones, I was so confused by my feelings towards him, I couldn't. I knew I was incredibly drawn to him and physically, well, let's say I was just as interested as he was, but he was my Potions professor, and I hadn't come to terms with that by then."

"So, he sent you away in a fit of noble self-flagellation, and you returned to school as if nothing had changed."

"Oh, believe me, Blaise, everything had changed. Every time I looked at him, I kept seeing images of Sidney and remembering his..."

"Don't remind me." Blaise's lips twisted as he turned to gaze out of the window.

"I suppose you're appalled, just like Ron and Harry would be if they knew. How can I fancy the greasy git of the dungeons?" Hermione was surprised at how disappointed she felt. She had believed Blaise Zabini, at least, would understand.

"No." His reply was soft, barely audible. "I don't fault your taste; Snape isn't as bad as some choose to believe."

"What, then?"

He remained facing the window. "It's of no consequence now." Turning, he lifted his shoulders and smiled. "What happened next?"

Hermione puzzled at Blaise's odd behaviour for a moment, then continued. "You were there, Blaise. He treated me no differently to the last time I was in his classroom. He saw Hermione Granger, annoying Gryffindor, pain in his posterior. He had no reason to believe otherwise. To him, Grace was a Muggle."

"That must have been a relief."

"It was, but in some ways it hurt, too. I know it was irrational, but I couldn't help wanting him to see me, to recognise me. Of course, I'd have run a mile if he had." Her laugh was tinged with bitterness. "We exchanged some letters. He had my parents' address, and they'd send the letters on and likewise forward my replies to his studio. The letters became a little... suggestive."

Blaise was silent as he considered her words, then he suddenly looked up. "That day, when he left the classroom in a hurry. He was reading one of your letters, wasn't he?"

"I never expected him to read it in class! It was so embarrassing!" She flushed again as she recalled Snape's reaction to her words. "Anyway, after that, I decided I didn't care he was my professor. He'd invited me to see the exhibition, so I arranged for Mum to get permission from Professor McGonagall."

"That's where you both were at the weekend. Where was the exhibition?"

"London. At a gallery in Bankside. Why?"

"Just curious. How was it?"

"The exhibition? Stunning. The way the paintings were presented exceeded anything I'd imagined. They were intimate, but somehow tasteful. It was a little embarrassing knowing everyone there was looking at them, but I was somewhat distracted by the time I reached the final painting." She smiled, remembering exactly why she had been distracted. "After that, we went back to the studio, and... you know..."

Blaise groaned softly. "Oh, Merlin, girl. I don't need details. He still has no idea you're a witch then?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's the problem. At one point, I... er... inadvertently used his real name."

A bark of laughter escaped her companion as he immediately came to the correct conclusion. "You didn't? You fucking did! Bloody hell, Granger, surely he's not that good? No, don't tell me. It's too depressing. My head of house is getting more action than I do. I obviously left my move too late."

Looking up to meet the resigned acceptance in his deep brown eyes, Hermione reached out and laid her hand on his arm. "Are you serious, Blaise? I thought you were just teasing."

He flashed a rueful smile. "I'd hoped. But I soon realised your attention was elsewhere. Why do you think I was watching you so closely? Still... I'd like to be your friend, at least."

Hermione squeezed his arm and reached up to brush his cheek with her fingertips. "I'd like that."

"Just don't tell anyone. I don't want my housemates to think I've gone soft in the head, fancying a Gryffindor."

"Looks like we both have a secret." Hermione smiled, her attempt to lighten the mood succeeding as Blaise responded with a quirk of the lips.

"When do you plan to tell him?"

She shrugged. "No idea. I've written to try and explain, but I'm sure he'll figure it out soon. I'm right in front of him, after all."

"Don't underestimate the power of assumption, Hermione. He never suspected you were a witch, and he seems to be ignoring the possibility you're a student of his, or he'd have worked it out by now. Still, you must tell him. Soon."

Hermione's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, Merlin!"

"What?"

"I told him over summer I was returning to school this year. I implied I was an adult student, but... surely he'd remember?"

"Depends on the context and how distracted he was at the time."

"Very, if I remember correctly." She noted Blaise's raised eyebrow. "Okay, okay, I'll tell him as soon as I get the right opportunity. And, Blaise?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for being so understanding. In any other circumstances..." She smiled weakly.

"I know. Still, there's plenty of other witches who will appreciate the patented Zabini charm. You'll just have to be the one who got away."

She thumped him on the arm. Hard.

As they walked together down the corridor, each was lost in their own thoughts until a sudden ruckus nearby jolted them into awareness. Just ahead, around a corner, voices could be heard rising in anger. Hermione touched Blaise's arm and indicated they should stop and listen before proceeding, not wanting to become involved in another student's argument unnecessarily.

Pansy Parkinson's shrill was easily identified. "It's no wonder you kept turning me down! All this time I've been hanging around, waiting for you to notice me, and then I find out you're not man enough for a woman! You disgust me, Draco Malfoy!"

Hermione frowned. "We can't let her get away with this. It's not Draco's fault he doesn't want her."

"With that screech, I'm surprised anyone would want her." Blaise chuckled.

With a grin, she nudged him. "Play along with me..." Rounding the corner, the pair heard Pansy continue her rant. Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass watched on, sniggering.

"Just wait until my father hears about this. You'll be a laughing stock! I can't wait..." She squeaked to a halt as Blaise and Hermione drew up to flank the pale-faced blond.

"Ah, Draco, love, that's where you are. I thought we'd arranged to meet nearer the main entrance." She leaned towards the startled young man, wrapped one arm around his waist, and planted a prolonged, surprisingly enjoyable kiss on his lips. "Mmm, you taste divine. I can't wait until we go to Hogsmeade next weekend. It'll be a chance to get away by ourselves for a change."

Blaise grinned as Draco blinked, frowned, then relaxed and drew her into a longer, more passionate kiss. "I can't wait either. But we still need to go over that Ancient Runes essay we're working on. I presume that's why you dragged Zabini up here."

"Yeah, I'm the brains; you're the beauty. Shall we go?" Blaise continued up the corridor towards the library without looking back.

Hermione turned to Pansy and her cronies. "Was there anything else you needed, Pansy? No? Good." As the Slytherin girls slunk back to the dungeons, she hooked her arm through Draco's and gently tugged him to follow Blaise.

Checking the corridor was empty, the lone figure observing the confrontation slipped out from a darkened alcove and scowled as he walked away.

***

A/N: This was written for Shalimar1981 for the TPP Every Flavour Auction. Beta kudos go to Karelia and plot-bouncing appreciation to quaffswinegaily.

Blaise sort of took over this chapter. Poor lad thought he wasn't getting enough attention. I promise more Snape in the next chapter.