Snowbound Morning

10 - Snowbound Morning

The next morning the sun rose easily in the sky, creating a bell-like, crystalline day. Snow lay in feet around the Granger house and there was a hushed silence.

The crystal shattered with the shrill blare of the telephone.

Still unaccustomed to the noise of Muggle existence, the ringing had Snape standing, adrenaline flooding through his system, before he was fully awake. With a groan of realisation, he collapsed back into the bed before hauling himself upright with a sigh. He was well and truly awake now and the voice from downstairs didn't help any. A quick brush of the hand tidied his hair back and he shrugged into his robes before emerging onto the landing. Leaning over the railing, he studied the apparently dejected girl on the floor below as she replaced the receiver.

"That was my dad," she said without looking up. "They're still trapped in a hotel near their office. Snowstorm's messed up everything: transportation, power... They're hoping they'll be able to get back by tonight, but they're not counting on it. There's a lot of other places that need help more."

"They are safe, Miss Granger," he pointed out, his tone saying that even the most thick-witted child should have grasped the idea. "Does it really matter that they cannot immediately return?"

"It's Christmas bloody Eve!" Her frustration was clear. "It may not be important to you, but I have a family and I wanted to spend it with them!"

Stung... and furious with himself for being so... he spat back, "Yes, you have a family, Miss Granger. So stop acting like a spoiled five-year-old when they don't obey your every whim!" He turned on his heel and returned to the vague haven of his bedroom. Such a damned nuisance to have to deal, not only with this spoiled chit, but with her peculiar emerging talent for invoking his most sensitive memories. He paced heavily across the floor, awakening the somnolent Agrippina, who, annoyed, hissed at him. He stopped before the bookshelf. "Apologies, Agrippina," he sighed, "It's all right, really." To his surprise, she roused herself fully, descending the shelves with the delicacy of a dancer before draping herself across his shoulders. A half-smile quirked his lips. "Thank you, O Imperious One." He ran a hand over the surprisingly soft scales and in return, she nudged his ear with her nose.

A soft knock caught his attention just as Hermione tentatively opened the door. "I did not say you could enter, Miss Granger," he said forbiddingly.

"I know," she replied, her voice as quiet as her knock had been. "I didn't think you would. But what I said was uncalled for and I need to apologise for it. Before..."

"'Before', Miss Granger?" A single eyebrow glided upwards. Both man and snake regarded her steadily.

"Yes, before." Exasperated... though with herself or him, she wasn't sure... Hermione matched them stare for stare. "I won't attempt to quantify what happened last night; I imagine we wouldn't agree about it, anyway. But I'll be damned if I simply let it slide, let what I said poison it. I was upset and I wasn't thinking; what I said just now was unconscionable."

"Why should you care, Miss Granger?" Snape lifted Agrippina off of his shoulders as he spoke, transferring her substantial weight back to the bookshelf. "Once this abominable holiday is over, we shall return to our customary relationship... if you can dignify it with that term. Nothing that has passed here has any significance whatsoever."

"Bollocks."

"I beg your pardon?" Snape blinked at the girl in consternation.

"You heard me," she replied. "Of course, I can always repeat it. Or perhaps I should clarify?" Hermione couldn't manage the single expressive eyebrow, but the derisive look she gave him was almost as effective. "I think what you just said is complete and utter bollocks. Like it or not, Professor, you have actually managed to impress upon me the fact that you are human. Furthermore, a human I admire, respect, and may possibly even like, if you'd leave off the bloody posturing you're so fond of. Think as you like, sir, but you can't change my opinion or my feelings and certainly not the way I act on them."

Snape's expression was the closest it would ever get to completely poleaxed. "Then I think you're completely, utterly daft, girl." Somehow, his words seemed to have lost their sting, even to his ears.

"What, daft for actually thinking of you as a person?" She crossed over to the bed and sat cross-legged on it, her brown eyes engaging his with complete frankness. "Why is that so hard to believe? I happen to think you're interesting and would like to get to know you better. I think you have some intrinsic value just as yourself. Is that such a far-fetched concept?"

"Honestly, I do find it a 'far-fetched concept'." Snape answered, managing to settle himself in a chair. Resting his elbows on the armrests, he steepled his fingers and watched her reaction.

"Why?" A single word.

"Why should I tell you?" he shot back.

She shrugged. "Perhaps because I have a sympathetic ear?" she suggested. "It isn't healthy to keep things bottled up inside, you know. And you have already demonstrated that you trust my discretion to some degree. Unless you were lying through your teeth last night."

"I do not need sympathy, Miss Granger."

"But it does sound like you need someone to talk to. You made your opinion of the Headmaster perfectly clear last night, I have never seen you talk to anyone in anything other than a professional context, and you decided to tell me something last night that I very much doubt you've told anyone. I am well aware that I am one of the last people you would ever think of talking to under normal circumstances. Therefore, I must conclude that some other factor must have induced you to do so."

To her astonishment, Snape began to laugh... a deep, rather rusty sound. "Typical, Miss Granger. Entirely typical. Even in what you would call 'emotional matters', you present your premise, supporting evidence, and conclusion. A true academic."

She grinned in relief. "Well?"

"No."

"No?" To his amusement, she visibly began to bristle.

"Miss Granger... " he paused, considering the best way to formulate his thoughts. "While your hypothesis may be correct... and I am not saying so one way or the other... your question is extraordinarily personal. If... and that is an highly unlikely 'if', I might add... an appropriate time occurs, I may tell you. And that is the best you can do, Miss Granger, so I suggest you let the subject lie."

"Alright." Her easy acquiescence surprised him, but in truth, it was a far greater concession than she had been expecting. "How about this, then: you can tell me what you bought at the bookstore yesterday. What sort of low, Muggle trash did you pick up, Professor?"

She grinned almost evilly at him, but he had already regained his composure. "My congratulations, Miss Granger," Snape replied, his customary thin smile curling the corners of his lips. "Your tactics, though still applied with the grace of a Gryffindor sledgehammer, are taking on shades of Slytherin guile. Your timing needs work, though, as does that little characteristic known as subtlety."

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir, considering the source," she told him, her voice as dry as his could be, "and reiterate the question."

"Very well." He casually summoned the green and gold bag from the corner of the room, then shooed its contents in the girl's direction. Hermione looked at the covers, realising this was her turn to be completely bowled over. A Wrinkle in Time. A Wind in the Door. Many Waters. A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

"I have to say, sir," she managed to choke out, "this is not what I had expected." Though, truth be told, she would have been hard-pressed to say what exactly she had expected. Still, children's fantasy was somewhere on the far edges of her list.

He shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "I picked up the last one at random," he explained. "I didn't expect to find anything worthwhile, but I admit her method of synthesis is unusual. One doesn't usually find the human, scientific, and divine in harmony."

"I would have to agree," she murmured, bemused, before coming abruptly back to herself. "Um, would you like to continue this conversation over breakfast? I'm not terribly good at much, but I can manage eggs and toast."

"Well, if that is the best you can do, Miss Granger..." She looked at him sharply, but realised, somewhat dazedly, that he was merely teasing her. Curiouser and curiouser... she thought. If I see a white rabbit or a red queen, I am out of here.

"It is, unless you would like to deal with a smoking kitchen," Hermione replied. "Shall we?" She climbed off the bed, realising suddenly that she was still in her pyjamas. With a feeling somewhere between fatalism and pragmatism, she shrugged the realisation off. After all, one doesn't exactly wear red nighties in sub-zero temperatures, does one?