Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Just after four o'clock in the morning, Hermione shot out of her bed, soaked in sweat. The dreams had been relentless this week. The worst recurring one was when she dreamt of holding Ron's lifeless body while Harry knowingly sacrificed himself to kill Voldemort. She always woke from that particular dream in a cold sweat with a sick stomach.

So many people...friends...had died in those bleak months after their graduation that she felt like she had somehow cheated death. The scar cutting across her shoulder reminded her that she hadn't come away unscathed, but it seemed such a small price to pay. No, she thought, I've paid in more than just my scar. I've lost my friends. I've lost my parents. I've lost my life.

She placed a hand on her shoulder. It tended to ache when the room became too chilly. The old castle was cold, and she could see a thin layer of frost on the grass outside, glistening in the early morning light. Spring was coming, but it hadn't quite arrived in full. A few gentle squeezes kept the dull ache at bay so she could slip out of bed and prepare for another day of classes.

Hermione winced as soon as she stepped into her tub. She had made a fool of herself in front of Severus Snape last night. She had allowed him to see the trashy romance novel she had toted outside with her, and, what was worse, she let him leave with it. Of course, he said he planned on burning it, destroying it in some way for the well-being of the students. However, she couldn't help but wonder if he had at least taken a peek at the contents.

She sat down in the comforting warmth of the water and slid her head below the surface. When she emerged, she brushed the droplets from her eyelashes and squeezed the excess water from her hair. It was a silly affair of a novel with a dash of romance. Basically, it was filled with things that Hermione knew she would never know or feel. It had been almost a year since that day, the day they had all died, Voldemort included. Well, not everyone, she amended. I'm still here. A few others survived. But no one that I loved.

The tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her flushed cheeks. Cry. It was all she did nowadays. She hated it. In anger, Hermione smacked a flat palm against the bathwater, splashing it on the bathmat as well as on herself. She had been crying for a year. Surely that was enough tears for a lifetime. She always wondered if she'd run out of tears. If she did, would she cry without them?

Probably. She sniffed and began scouring her body, leaving red skin in her wake.

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"Good morning, dear."

Minerva always made an effort to be especially kind to her. Sometimes it made Hermione want to scream. Instead, she forced a half-hearted smile. "Good morning."

"A bit cool this morning, isn't it?"

Hermione cast her former Head of House a glance and picked up a piece of toast. "Yes, it is."

She still found it odd to eat at the staff table in the Great Hall. It wasn't so long ago that she had been sitting with Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table. Now, she had Minerva McGonagall on one side and Severus Snape on the other. He hadn't arrived yet, and Hermione hoped he would stay away long enough for her to finish the slice of toast and leave.

It wasn't that she didn't like her former Potions professor. Over the past few months, he had been surprisingly helpful and even nice at times. She was just still mortified over the incident the previous night. Hermione hoped he had tossed the book in the hearth as soon as he walked into his quarters. The dog-eared romance novel was certainly not the best way to make a lasting impression on a colleague whom she admired and respected.

Speak of the devil. Hermione sunk a bit further down in her stiff-backed chair when she felt the disturbance of air that could only be caused by Snape's swishing robes. A moment later, he was settled beside her and reaching for the jam. Without a word, she offered him the plate of toast.

"And how are you this morning, Severus?" Minerva asked, looking past Hermione.

"It's Friday, which means I'll be free of classes with our exceptionally dull dunderheads for the next two days. I suppose that's something." He smeared a healthy dose of dark red jam on his toast.

Minerva turned her nose up at him. "You're far too young to be so sour, Severus."

"Yes, and you've known me far too long to ask such inane questions before I've had my coffee, Minerva."

The Headmistress huffed in indignation and returned to her breakfast.

Hermione picked the crust from her toast and arranged it on her empty plate in silence. Finally, Severus spoke up. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Fine," she said softly.

"You're an atrocious liar, Granger. You look like you're two seconds from passing out in your tea."

"I'll manage," Hermione assured him before taking a sip from her cup. The bitter taste always woke her faster than anything else. Except for the dreams. "I trust you were able to dispose of that contraband you found yourself in possession of last night?"

"You may rest assured that it won't fall into the wrong hands."

Hermione felt her stomach drop. "Please tell me you didn't read any of it."

He placed a dollop of jam on another piece of toast. "And what if I did?"

She pushed the plate of uneaten toast away from her. "I'll die of embarrassment."

Snape finally looked at her, taking in her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. "You look well enough to me. A bit exhausted, but nothing life-threatening."

She bristled under his gaze. "You read it? How dare you invade my privacy like that?"

"Keep your tone down or you'll have to explain to Minerva why you're so upset."

It took a great deal of effort, but Hermione bit her tongue and lowered her voice. "I trusted you to burn it, not take it back to your chambers to read it."

"I was curious."

"It was a ridiculous Muggle romance," she hissed. "It's hardly anything to be curious about. Every bookstore has a wealth of them."

Severus shrugged. "I was under the impression your tastes leaned more toward the academic realm. I must admit, I was surprised to find you were perusing such a shameless tale."

"Don't read into any deeper motivations of mine, Professor. It was just to pass the time." Hermione stood and left the Great Hall to prepare for her first lesson of the day.

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She was in the midst of marking some atrocious fourth-year essays when she heard rapping at the door to her private quarters. As horrible as the essays were, she didn't appreciate interruptions while she was marking. I believe I've spent too much time around Snape. I'm starting to think just like him, she mused.

She had to admit, Severus Snape still intimidated her a bit. Not as much as when she had been his student, but enough to keep her on her guard whenever he was in the room. Despite growing up around the man, she still couldn't understand him completely. Hermione doubted anyone knew what occupied Hogwarts' dour Potions master's mind. That didn't stop her from wondering, though.

Laying down her quill, she stood up to answer the door just as the knocking began anew. Deftly, Hermione dismantled her minor wards and opened the door to find exactly the person she had been contemplating.

"Professor Snape. Hello."

"Professor Granger." He nodded in acknowledgement.

"What can I do for you?"

Snape glanced behind him. "Common courtesy does dictate that one should invite visitors inside."

Hermione was still terribly embarrassed over the ordeal with the novel he had taken from her. She knew without a doubt that he had, at the very least, thumbed through the tattered copy, looking for ammunition with which to tease her. It raised her ire. "I can't imagine any business you would have with me that would require us to sit and have a cup of tea. Do you need me to cover your patrols this evening? If so, I'd be happy to."

He shifted and looked at her with unconcealed annoyance. "And I'd be happy to discuss your personal business out here in the hall, as well," he replied, producing her novel from a fold in his robes.

Cringing, she stepped aside and let him enter before closing the door behind him. "You said you were going to burn it." She turned around to find herself staring at his broad back.

"Curiosity and all, Granger. I've brought it back to you. There's no reason to burn it when you're more protective of your books than your gold. I doubt any of these books would ever unwittingly fall into student hands." He walked over to the far wall. It was lined with bookshelves floor to ceiling. "Where shall I put it?"

Oh, no, Hermione thought. She hurried across the room to move between Snape and her bookshelves. He was within an arm's reach of the rest of her romance novels. Truthfully, she only had a handful, no more than twenty. Compared to the rest of her collection, it was a minimal amount. However, Severus Snape would be more than happy to hold the knowledge over her head for years if he discovered she had read more than one.

"I'll take that," she said, plucking the book from his hand.

"So eager to get it back, Miss Granger?" He smirked. "Were you missing Marco and his pulsating manhood?"

Hermione flushed a deep shade of red. "Don't be such a prat, Snape," she muttered, shoving the book on a shelf.

"You wouldn't be attempting to hide something from me, would you?" Snape peered over her shoulder, scanning the spines of the books behind her.

"Don't be ridiculous. I was just returning the book you stole to my collection."

She should have known she was done for when Snape's eyes gleamed with malicious mischief. "What, pray tell, is Sex Slave? That wouldn't happen to be the title of the book just over your left shoulder, would it?"

Spinning around, Hermione saw the bold red writing along the stark white spine of the novel. She fumbled for an explanation that would appease him, but she was at a loss.

"Well, well," Snape murmured, stepping closer. "It looks as if it is in good company. Hot Bodies? Passion's Embrace? Does our very own Professor Granger have a predilection for these naughty little tales of sex?"

She had no response. Instead, Hermione pushed past him. Her face was still flushed with color when he turned around to face her again.

"Don't be such a juvenile, Snape. They're just romance novels. Molly Weasley has far more than I ever will. I don't see why you're making such a fuss over it."

He was looking far too pleased with himself as he shrugged and crossed the room to stand in front of her. "I just never thought you were the type."

"Type? I'm not any type. I have well over sixty books on Charms and nearly as many on Potions, not mention nearly six hundred pieces of literature. Are you really so intent on classifying me with less than twenty silly romance novels, half of which I think are horribly written?" Hermione pushed her hair back from her face. It seemed that each time she worked herself up into a snit, her hair made her look like a fool by flying about wildly.

Snape raised his brows and waited for her to finish. When she stopped and took a deep breath, he asked, "Do you have a favorite?"

"What?"

"A favorite. You said you thought half of them were horribly written. Which one do you consider to be the best?"

Hermione laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "Are you looking for book recommendations, Professor?"

He gave her a slight smile. "Perhaps. You know I've gone through all of the books the Hogwarts library has to offer. Branching out into more... risque genres might do me well."

His response made her laugh so hard her shoulder began aching. She gasped for air and clamped a hand over her collarbone. She hadn't laughed so deeply in months – not since before Harry and Ron were killed with so many of her other friends. Life just hadn't seemed very humorous after that horrible day. However, Snape asking her for suggestions on well-written erotica was just too much.

When she finally gained control of herself again, she looked up to see he was smiling at her. By common standards, it was a very small smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. It lightened her heart to know that despite all that had transpired in the past year, she could still enjoy a good laugh. It also hurt to know that laugh would never again be with Harry or Ron.

"They're all much too sappy for you, Professor," she finally replied.

He affected a look of hurt. "What do you take me for? Some brute who can only find pleasure in crude descriptions with pictures?"

"You just don't strike me as the type to enjoy romance."

"Well," Severus said, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing, "yes, point taken. I'm no Lockhart."

Hermione huffed and sat down in the closest armchair. "Lockhart wasn't a romantic. He was, at best, a narcissist, and, at worst, a fraud."

"True..." he trailed off before walking toward the door.

After a long moment of silence, Hermione spoke up. "Did you really read that novel?"

"Truthfully?"

"Truthfully."

Snape smirked. "Portions of it. I found it complimented the sixth-years' essays I read today."

Hermione raised her brow in question.

"The author's descriptions of sex were on par with my students' descriptions of the many uses of bicorn horn."

"Both abysmal?"

"Quite," Snape agreed with an upward turn of his thin lips. "While I appreciate your offer to patrol the halls in my absence this evening, it won't be necessary. I believe Gryffindor is up over seventy-five points. I plan on lowering that lead this evening. Spring is just around the corner, and I have no doubt amorous couples are already sneaking about my halls."

He strode over to the door, opened it, and turned around to nod at her. "Good evening, Professor Granger."

She smiled at him. "Good evening, sir."

Author's Note: A huge thank you goes out to moonrevel and JenF for being wonderful betas. And, I also want to thank all the wonderful people who have left reviews of encouragement. I appreciate it greatly.