Hesitation

"That, Miss Granger, is the only thing preventing me from blasting that electronic contraption out of its miserable existence."

She smirked at him and shook the Polaroid, willing for it to appear faster. She started when she felt his presence settle in closely behind her. For all of his annoyance, Snape seemed quite interested to observe this Muggle device in action.

Two pairs of eyes fixed eagerly on the photo as colors and lines bled into existence.

"Oh, look, I can see your scowl already."

"Very amusing. Why is my image so still?" Snape poked at the photo. Photo-Snape remained where he was and did not seem to mind the poke.

"This is a Muggle camera, remember? Personally, I prefer these sometimes. Wizarding photos always struck me as super-idealized images of the subject. Muggle photos just show you as you are."

Hermione gave the Polaroid a final shake and looked at it carefully. She had been careful to take it before Snape had been fully aware of what was happening. The result was that his ever-present scowl was absent, his face relaxed with dawning surprise. It made him look younger and less forbidding.

"Why didn't you tell me that I had soot on my cheek before you took this?"

"Heaven forbid, I think I've reached my astonishment threshold for the day. Severus Snape has descended to vanity?"

Snape scoffed, but she could have sworn that his dark eyes glittered in amusement. She saw him fumble within his pockets for a handkerchief.

"Let me," she said. Hermione reached up to the spot upon his cheek. He must have been working over a particularly messy flame that morning. The soot had dried into fine powder and brushed away with a single caress. His skin felt abnormally warm in the split second that her finger made contact.

She looked up. His eyes were no longer amused, and she held his gaze, seemingly unable to look away. Her fingers fidgeted, desperately seeking something to break the awkward moment. They seized upon the Polaroid, and she dropped her gaze and busied herself with reducing and tucking the photo underneath her bracelet.

When Hermione dared to look up again, she saw that Snape's gaze had returned to a neutral state. He raised an eyebrow when he saw where she had stored the photograph.

She smiled nervously, cursing the way the corners of her mouth seemed to tremble. "As I said, I'm preserving it for the sake of research."

"Ever the scholar, I see," he whispered. Then he turned slightly and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Hermione glanced down at his arm and took a deep breath. They were visiting the British Library as academic colleagues. It would be expected that they would be at ease around each other.

She threaded her hand through his arm. The crook of his elbow was warm underneath her touch. He nodded once, and she followed him inside.

As Hermione walked across the checkered lawn between the two hulking wings of the building, she felt as if she were walking between the paws of a headless sphinx that had sprawled its huge bulk across Euston Road.

When she commented on the remarkable ugliness of the building, Severus Snape merely smiled mysteriously. She felt her stomach twist in response and decided that she must have eaten something strange at lunch.

The main door closed with a whisper behind them, and Hermione was plunged into the reverent silence unique to libraries that she had come to love. She began to walk toward the reference desk, but Snape pulled her to the side.

"Come with me," he entreated when she looked at him quizzically.

They went down a wide corridor, turned a corner and...

Hermione gasped. They had reached a wall of giant, floor-to-ceiling windows. Through the windows, across a small chasm were rows and rows of bookshelves. They were stacked upon each other, climbing up out of sight and descending many levels below their feet. Hermione was reminded of looking at a nearby skyscraper from a high window, only all the windows were filled with nothing but books and more books...

"Oh my God..."

"Do try and keep your excitement at a reasonable level, Miss Granger."

She turned, intending to reply with a witty retort, only to discover Snape gazing at her with a strange softness in his eyes.

Taken aback, she forgot what she was originally going to say. "How... how high are we?"

Snape stepped to her side in front of the plate glass. "Fourteen stories, five of them below ground. Over 150 million items in every known Muggle language located on more than 625 kilometers of shelves."

She gaped at him. "Is that so?" Then she grinned. "Where would you like to start?"

"Excuse me, would you like some assistance?"

Hermione and Snape turned to regard the person who had spoken. With her round glasses, short and squat stature, and glaringly perky demeanor, she was the very antithesis of Madam Pince. She saw the corners of Snape's lips tighten and could tell that the woman had already managed to irritate him.

The librarian blinked at them from behind her glasses before focusing on Severus. "Sir?"

He looked as if he would rather swallow Bubotuber pus than to hold a willing conversation with the woman. "We are looking for information on Mu...er, cameras."

The blinking became more frequent. "Cameras... sir?"

His lips were now barely visible. "Yes, information on the use, construction, and development, if you would be so kind as to..."

"Film, SLR, or digital?"

Hermione diligently held back the laughter that had been threatening to emerge since the start of the conversation and came to his rescue. "The Polaroid camera, ma'am. In particular, the more scientific publications involving the invention of the camera and the chemical composition of its film paper."

"Science, technology, and business. This way," the woman rattled off before turning and marching briskly down the hall at a rapid clip.

Snape's shell of control that prevented himself from reaching for the woman's neck was so rigid that he seemed unable to move. She grabbed his forearm with an urgent "Come on!" and they were off.

Fifteen minutes later they were five floors below ground, wedged between two sliding bookshelves (which the pert librarian had neglected to separate fully), and Snape was reaching up to the top shelf to retrieve a book that was out of Hermione's reach.

"Insufferable woman," he groused.

Hermione grinned. "And just who are you referring to?"

He looked down at her, brows raised. "In this case, not you. As surprising as that may seem."

"Be still, my beating heart."

"For you, you insufferable bibliophile."

Snape handed the book to her; her first finger brushed against his as she took the volume from him. Inexplicably her heart began to race, and something shifted inside her mind. She was assaulted by a blinding clarity, as confusing as it was powerful.

They said that it took an instant to fall in love with someone. It had taken Hermione less than half an hour.

A flutter of sensation spread from her heart through her limbs, tingling in her wrists and fingers. A moment later, she realized that it was not just her blood doing a furious dance through her veins. Her wrist was tingling underneath the silver bracelet.

She inscribed her journey to the library in the air, detailing her reactions to the wondrous contents within. Her hand hesitated over the final sentence.

The nothingness was tugging at her mind, dragging her feet down the rocky, treacherous path she had begun climbing, beckoning her with promises of comfort and safety.

There were tears in her eyes as she let her hand fall to her side. The blackness closed around her, leaching into her eyes and caressing her mind.

Hermione gasped, looking around in terrified confusion. She had barely gotten her hand around the bracelet when...

"Miss Granger?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Snape's head appeared from around the end of the row of books. His shoulders and torso quickly followed. He had four Bible-thick books pressed up against his chest.

"I believe that these will encompass everything you could possibly want to know about Polaroids and film development. Shall we?"

Hermione took a deep breath, hoping her discomfiture was not as obvious as it felt. She tucked her hand through his proffered arm, and they walked towards the lift together.

"You must have done something right," she muttered. "Apparently my past self finds your company more than bearable."

He raised an eyebrow. "That is quite a lofty standard to live up to," he said as the doors slid closed.

The only free librarian at the check-out desk was a short, squat woman wearing round glasses and an unmistakably cheery smile. Hermione heard Snape groan softly.

"Have we met her before?" she whispered.

Snape ducked behind her and let her precede him to the desk.

The librarian shot a dazzlingly white grin at them. "Jolly good, you found what you were looking for! Library card, please?"

"Oh goodness," said the librarian, reading their faces with unwelcome speed. "Here are some application forms then. Is your daughter of age, sir, or will you be filling them out for her?"

Snape went very still behind her.

The librarian looked confused for a moment and then seemed to brighten again. "Oh, of course, we'd be happy to offer you a special loan on these books for as long as you'd like," she chirruped. She quickly scanned each tome and dumped the lot into a bright red plastic bag with "British Public Library" printed across in big white letters.

As Snape took the bag in one hand and they moved towards the exit, Hermione found her voice again. "Professor... tell me you did not just..."

"They will hardly be missed," he replied in a tone that bordered on snappish. "The spines on these books are so tight, I doubt they've ever been opened."

Hermione sighed, recognizing a lost cause when she saw one. "Poor woman, all she thought about was to help us."

Snape snorted elegantly through his prodigious nose. "All she was thinking was how fortunate you were to take after your mother."

Hermione stared. Snape noticed and became visibly uncomfortable. "I apologize. I must have shocked you with the possibility that I possess a sense of humor."