Chapter 8: Knowledge of Self-femininity

Chapter Eight: Knowledge of Self-femininity

I didn’t cry until I reached my dormitory, where I fell upon my bed in a heap of tears. I buried my head in my pillow and recounted my idiocy with each hitched breath. I stayed up half the night feeling unclean, damaged, and unworthy. I contemplated every last incriminating word I had said while my tears ran hot into my ears. When the morning dawned, I looked out my window and thought I saw someone in black stalking across the grass, but it was only my imagination.

“Today is Gryffindor’s Quidditch match against Slytherin!” called a shrill voice as Lavender leapt out of her bed, stretching languidly. I eyed her angrily as I pulled on my weekend clothes. She wore a pink tank top and a miniskirt. I donned a red turtleneck and Muggle jeans.

We made our way down to the pitch, and I was fuming over the fact that Harry had spiked Ron’s drink with Felix Felicis. Such flagrant rule breaking perturbed me to the breaking point. I walked alone with my arms wrapped around my middle. When I made my way into the stands, Severus stormed past me, wearing a brooding expression. I rolled my eyes, sat down by myself, and began to etch shapes into the wood with my fingernail.

When I came back into the castle, I decided to take the long route back to the common room so to avoid the ridiculous celebrators. My traitorous feet led me past Severus’ office, and that was where I sat down to let my tears spill alone. He wasn’t inside, but I could hear the gramophone crackling. I rested my head against the stone wall as I stared up at the ceiling. The tears streamed down their familiar passageway to my ears.

When I picked myself up finally, I strolled back to the common room. But instead of finding comfort in the celebration, I saw Lavender Brown achieving her year-long wish. She was lip-locked with Ron, and tears welled at my eyes once more. Why did such an objectionable girl get to be happy? I stormed out to find an empty classroom.

I conjured some golden songbirds, and they merrily swarmed about my head as I sobbed. I waited for the little fellows to cheer me up, but was interrupted when Harry came in to talk to me. He complemented my spell work, and his awkward attempt to cheer me up hardly permeated my grief. I brought up the subject of Ron, surprising even myself by the fact that I was mad at him. I didn’t even feel that way about him anymore, but just as I attempted to pursue the subject further, we were interrupted by none other than the cheery couple themselves.

Lavender slipped out immediately, but Ron stuck around. I loathed him and all the awkward energy in the room. I stood to leave, but realized I couldn’t go without a fight. I turned and set the birds upon Ron. I did not stay to see the result.

The next week passed in a tidal wave of tears. I spoke to Harry in the evenings after my homework and avoided Ron entirely so as to not have to witness him all over Lavender. I never raised my hand in Defense Against the Dark Arts and never helped Snape after class. But one Friday, I made the mistake of being the last to leave the classroom. As I walked down the aisle though the double desks, a hand caught mine.

I whipped around as my blood ran cold. Severus’ warm, dry hand encircled mine. I looked into his fathomless, black eyes and willed tears not to spring into mine.

“It looks like you’ve been crying, Hermione,” he said softly, avoiding my gaze.

“Oh,” I responded, matching his soft tone.

“Listen,” he sighed and continued reluctantly, “maybe I was wrong; maybe we should give this a try.”

I looked up. Was the cold, distant Potions master being romantic and hopeful?

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” he started, still holding my hand. “I just think that the whole idea was too young to induce heartbreak,” he paused and inclined his head, “on both your part and mine.”

“I understand,” I said solemnly.

“That’s my girl,” he said with a small grin.

I smiled lightly. I could feel myself rising out of my anguish. Oh, what that man could do when he tried….

“Would you mind staying for a bit? I have some lesson materials—” Before he could finish, I had smothered him with a kiss that he returned with gusto. He carried me to the store room and bolted the door behind us, showering me with heated kisses. I closed my eyes, and the feeling of rising out of the depths met with the rising feeling of the moment. I was flying.

He let out muffled groans every time I moved. He clutched me to him and rocked me back and forth as the kisses subsided. I was at peace simply listening to his heartbeat. But I realized my fear this time; I realized that this affection sprung forth from physical contact, as opposed to a mental bond. I withdrew and led him into his chamber. We sat on the bed, and I laid my head on his chest as he stroked my hair. Snow swirled outside his solitary window. We sat in silence until he broke it.

“Why me?” His voice was genuine and had a ring to it as though it had emanated from a small child.

“Maturity,” I began, allowing instinct to guide me for once. “Separation. Those are things I see in myself. It’s you because I realized how much you intrigued me.”

“What about Weasley and Potter?” he sneered. “Surely they hate me.”

“There is a fine line between—”

“Love and hate, yes. So you hated me?”

“Never hated, Severus.” I paused to collect my thoughts. “I always knew that if Dumbledore trusted you, then he must know something Harry and Ron couldn’t understand.”

“Dumbledore saw me for the filth I was and nourished me back to life from someone who had lost all reason to go on. He saw me begin to loathe the Dark Lord, so he knew he could trust me. I had to repay him for giving me a job and for entrusting me with a job no one else has today. I am a spy, a bleeding spy. So weak I can’t choose a side. Either way, I would choose death.”

“If you chose You-Know-Who—”

“Then I would die with guilt.”

His words resounded for a bit. I noticed that he was pouring out more than he seemed to want to. Something about my solitary presence seemed to uncork him. I recognized this with a bit of guilt, but unlocking the vaults of Severus’ heart was appealing beyond the comprehension of anyone whose head wasn’t resting on his chest.

“So I’ve seen Weasley around with his latest accomplishment,” he started conversationally.

“How in the hell that bitch made it in here, I’ll never know…” he stirred at the obscenity but did not condemn it.

“Never liked that girl much myself,” he continued. “Speaks the language of the cleavage a bit too often.”

I laughed and turned on to my side and drew circles with my finger on his stomach. We laid in silence a bit longer, and the sun sank lower in the sky. I sighed and broke the silence again.

“Why me?”

“Intelligence,” he said, pausing and clicking his tongue. “You’re unlike anyone I know, old or young. There’s something invaluable about intelligence accompanied by the knowledge of self-femininity. The fact that you know you are a woman—not to the extent of Lavender Brown, mind you—is undeniably tantalizing to a man like me.”

“Like you?” I questioned, sitting up on my elbows.

“A man who is deeply buried in his own mind and in his own failures.”

“Oh, Severus.” My brows knitted together as I watched him admit his character to me. “You don’t understand the good side of yourself.”

Now he sat up with interest. “Good side.” He laughed. “My so-called ‘good side’ lies with Albus Dumbledore.”

“And me,” I said determinedly.

“Yes,” he said with a bemused smile crossing his face, “and with you.”

Aurthor's Note: Reviews and comments are appreciated! I love to know what y'all think.