Chapter 7. Delectio

Her eyes darted from place to place once the door closed, although there weren’t many places for Hermione to dart her eyes. She made a path with her sight from his nose to the slight wrinkles above his brow… and to his nose again. Sometime during her visual course, her eyes stopped below his forehead and rested upon his intense gaze.

It was too much for Hermione; she couldn’t help but look down again and count the little black buttons of his frock coat.

“We also need some basic ingredients for this, including armadillo bile–”

“I am quite aware of what we will need, Miss Granger. I did ‘fetch’ all the other ingredients, after all.”

“Oh, my apologies,” she spat, getting off of her perch on the table. This movement was enough to send Hermione into another spell of dizziness. She fell, but never reached the ground.

Hermione felt thin arms support her. The ends of his lank hair tickled her cheek; his nose was so close from her own. And his dark eyes were burning with something more than annoyance or anger.

“I must wonder, Miss Granger, whether I am so repulsive that you couldn’t kiss me.”

She was taken with his smell and the feel of his dark warmth surrounding her. She could kiss him, couldn’t she?

Then in one fluid motion he helped her up and set her to rights.

Her chance was over, but she couldn’t help but stare at his thin lips as he got to work on the potion. Long fingers carefully measured amounts of poppies and ground moonstone. As he turned to retrieve another jar from one of the shelves by the far wall, Hermione held back a gasp. With enough squinting, she was able to get a good view of his bum. Those robes don’t do him justice.

He had some good physical attributes, but not even the face of Gilderoy Lockhart could overcome his cold personality.

His eyes weren’t cold at all when you were in his arms. Hermione smiled at the thought.

~*~

Midway through grinding moonstone, Snape knew that she was staring at his hands. He also knew that Hermione needed to have her eyes on him – but did she need to move them over his person so often?

She was more than what he thought her to be. She was, of course, an intelligent witch, and likewise, an outsider. He had seen her many times at a requisite celebration from different vantage points in a shadowed corner or while he was engaged in dull conversations with even duller guests, her gaze upon the partygoers as she looked on with a drink in hand.

Snape now noticed that she wasn’t just an anti-social know-it-all; she also had a range of emotions that revealed to him the subtle facets of her personality, all of which were facing him – both directly and otherwise.

While heading for the shelf for armadillo bile, Severus couldn’t help but wonder.

Is she staring at my bum?

~*~

Snape had almost reached the half-way point in the creation of the antidote when he noticed that Hermione didn’t have her eyes on him. He groaned inwardly, preparing to vanish the vomit on the floor after checking on her condition.

Her eyes were drooping.

He rubbed his temple in thought. Was she slipping into unconsciousness? A negative side effect of the chocolate? When she opened her mouth to yawn, it dawned on him.

“Miss Granger, if you are inclined to rest for the remainder of the evening, do not take the liberty to do so on my workbench.”

Her eyes opened and rolled to quickly face him.

“Where should I rest then?” she snapped. Taking a deep breath, she added, “It’s been a hard night for the both of us, Severus.” Her voice softened at the use of his given name. She never noticed her slip, and he neglected to correct her.

“My chambers,” Snape said, casting a stasis charm on the cauldron. Hermione stretched and was about to leave the table when a pale hand was stretched out to her.

“I wouldn’t want to see you sprawled on the floor of my laboratory.” Despite Snape’s sarcasm, Hermione could see something in the darkness of his eyes.

She smiled up at him and grasped his hand to slide off the table.

They remained hand-in-hand on the way to his chambers.