Feelings of a Certain Kind

The night was warm and starry as Hermione stepped out onto the grounds. But her heart felt far too heavy, like so many times in these last days. Tomorrow she would leave Hogwarts, leave the first place she ever called home in this world. Forever.

Absorbing her surroundings, she took a deep breath.

The grounds were moonlight-drenched, lying quiet and calm in the semidarkness. Even the Scottish summer wind had chosen to take a break for tonight. The castle...everything around her...seemed so at peace, just as the wizarding world was at peace.

Closing her eyes as she leaned her head back, Hermione allowed the realization to sink in.

Peace.

Alive.

Safe.

There had been darker days when she had feared that such a time would never come again.

"But it has," she assured herself in a quiet whisper, smiling and unable to stop a rather giddy feeling from claiming her spirits.

On mere impulse, Hermione pulled off her ball shoes, abandoning them in the grass. Prudence could wait until tomorrow. She wanted to run; she wanted to feel the grass beneath her feet, allowing the sudden indescribable energy coursing through her veins to break free, and nothing would stop her now.

Moments later, she reached the shore of Hogwarts' lake somewhat breathlessly, but inexplicably alive. Three months had passed since the final battle, but somehow the true awareness that the war was really over, that her friends and family had managed to come out nearly unscratched, had reached her heart only minutes ago.

And he has survived, as well.

It still appeared like a small miracle to her. Never in her whole life had Hermione felt more thankful to be on the receiving end of one of his scowls than at the moment she had seen him stalk into the hospital wing after the final battle.

A mere shadow of sadness crossing her features, she bit her bottom lip. He was alive and had a future to claim, and that was all she had ever wished for, all that really mattered to her heart, even if she wouldn't be a part of that future.

And the headmaster was right; there was a future to claim now...for all of them. Hermione clenched her small fist, a triumphant smile gracing her lips again.

We did it!

The insight would make her farewell to Hogwarts easier than she had thought. Her eyes wandered over the surface of the lake, bidding a final goodbye to her shelter for so many years, as a loud rustling in the wood caught her attention. Hermione spun around. Somebody was coming up to her...she could plainly hear the sound of a pair of footsteps. By habit, she drew her wand out of the inside pocket of her dress, just in case the wizarding world was not so totally at peace as she had hoped.

"Who is there? Reveal yourself," she called, keeping her voice steady while her trembling hands betrayed the spell of fear that had struck her.

"It's me, 'Mione. Ron!" His familiar voice made itself known before he came into sight.

"Ronald Weasley! What did you think by sneaking up to me like the bogeyman?" Hermione pointed her wand at him in an angry gesture. "I could have hurt you! Actually, what are you doing out here?"

"Bloody hell, put that wand away, 'Mione. I followed you as you left the castle; I... uh... well, I just wanted to apologize to you for being the prat I was." A rather sheepish look on his face, he ran a hand through his flaming red hair, embarrassment coloring his cheeks even in the pale moonlight. "I am really sorry, 'Mione."

"As you should be. Professor Snape risked his life countless times to keep Harry, to keep us all, safe, Ron. So if there is anybody you should apologize to, it is he."

Ron gave her an unhappy look, murmuring something like, "I know".

Allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of her mouth, Hermione stepped closer to him.

"Well, we all make mistakes; I shouldn't have left you on the dance floor, either," she admitted honestly, searching his gaze and taking his hands into hers. But Ron averted his eyes from her.

"It's just... 'Mione, I was so furious that this greasy git made you smile and beam with happiness tonight, in a way I never did. Although..." he faltered, a sad look on his face, "although, I would like to be the one."

Hermione blinked, a knife-like pain hitting her heart. This wasn't happening.

"Oh, Ron..." she started, only to find that she was at a loss for words at this broken-hearted declaration. Squeezing his hands in understanding, she let them go.

"You like Snape, isn't it so, 'Mione?" Ron asked thoughtfully, suddenly searching her eyes.

Oh Ron, don't ask me that.

"Well..." she trailed off, words failing her again. Everything she was about to say would hurt him further. How was she to explain something so highly complicated and hopeless, something she wasn't able to understand herself?

"Don't lie to me about this, please. I need to know the truth." The imploration in his words gave her heart a painful sting. Ron was right; he deserved to know the truth.

Hermione swallowed and closed her eyes momentarily to prepare herself to speak, unaware of the fact that somebody else was also awaiting her answer in a rather unsettled manner.

What are you up to, Weasley?

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously as he followed the boy through the front door.

Years of spying had given the Potions master enough experience not to give himself away as he set out to track his former student, his wand already drawn.

The boy was heading for the lake, but Severus couldn't catch a glimpse of Hermione. Only a pair of shoes that obviously belonged to her was lying on the ground. She must have been running, otherwise he should have been able to spot her, too. Running. Of all the foolish things to do, she had settled for running alone through the night.

Where have you gone, Hermione?

Silently moving in the dark, Severus could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his eyes still searching the grounds desperately for a sign of the witch, as he heard her voice down by the lake.

"Who's there? Reveal yourself!"

He exhaled in relief; regardless of what Weasley was planning, he wouldn't be able to catch her by surprise. Severus quickened his steps, and mere moments later, he beheld the witch. He hid himself swiftly within earshot in the shadows of the forest to observe the events to come. It was an amazing sight that awaited him.

The witch was standing barefooted on the shore, still wearing her dark lilac gown from the ball, but her hair was hanging more loosely around her face than before. Unruly curls bounced around her face as she talked heatedly with Weasley, waving her wand dangerously at him.

The Gryffindor's wrath was quite famous, and he didn't envy the boy about to be on the receiving end of it. The Potions master smirked as he concentrated on their conversation.

"As you should be. Professor Snape risked his life countless times to keep Harry, to keep us all, safe, Ron. So if there is anybody you should apologize to, it is he."

Mark her words, Weasley.

"Well, we all make mistakes; I shouldn't have left you on the dance floor, either."

Had she?

Severus frowned. But before the revelation was able to sink in, a rush of icy coldness flooded his stomach as the witch took the hands of the younger wizard gently into her own.

Immediately, he closed his eyes to shield himself from the cozy scene, clenching his left hand in anger.

Indeed, Miss Granger, we all make mistakes.

And he had made a rather foolish one tonight. It had taken him mere moments to witness how ridiculous his fear for her safety had been and even more, his decision to seek her out to get answers to his questions. Well, he had found his answer. Damn, it shouldn't even matter whose hands the witch was holding. This was all Albus' doing. Albus and his insistence on this damnable dance had caused this ludicrous, hopeful feeling to intoxicate his soul. Severus swore quietly, already turning to leave, as Weasley's words hit him.

"It's just... 'Mione, I was so furious that this greasy git made you smile, in a way I never did. Although I would like to be the one."

"Oh, Ron..."

Stopped dead in his tracks, the Potions master dared not to believe his own eyes as he watched the witch instantly let go of Weasley's hands. Only to have his world turned upside down again as Potter's redheaded sidekick continued to speak.

"You like Snape, isn't it so, 'Mione?"

"Well..."

Reason told him to leave, to not wait for her answer that would only hurt his pride, but his eyes never strayed from the witch's face, mesmerized by the emotional struggle that was reflected on her features. He barely noticed Weasley's next words or his own preposterously pounding heart.

"Don't lie to me about this, please. I need to know the truth."

Deafening silence fell upon the unlikely trio, and Severus braced himself for a rejection that was never intended for him to hear, but was as sure to come as Albus' next offer of lemon drops.

Hermione's gaze was firmly fixed on the lake as she finally answered.

"Yes, I like him. I definitely like him."

It was a plain admission, actually whispered for somebody else, and only years of self-control kept Severus from losing ground, as a certain, pleasant warmth knotted his chest with complex emotion. She liked him. She definitely liked him.

Well, that was unexpected. Certainly, he had never extended a branch of friendship towards the witch, let alone any kind of affection.

Leaning against the next tree...surely not for support...Severus observed the pair in front of him, searching for signs that she truly meant what she had said.

"Why? I mean, it's Snape, 'Mione," he heard the boy ask, his voice mirroring the Potions masters' own disbelief.

Why? Another rather good question, Weasley.

But Hermione just shook her head at the question, causing the loose curls around her face to bounce merrily.

"A feeling like..." She trailed off, swallowing. "Ron, feelings of a certain kind do not ask why." She looked at the young man before her, awaiting his reaction.

She can't mean... No, certainly not.

Severus struggled for breath, only a quiet, strangled sound escaping his throat.

"Don't lie to me, 'Mione. You have to know why you believe you love the greasy git."

Thank Merlin, at least Weasley has found his voice again.

"I haven't said that I love him, Ron..."

"But..."

"No buts, Ron. This emotion is nothing that you can analyze like a formula in Arithmancy or break apart like the ingredients of a potion. It's just there, okay? That's something I just... uuhmm... well, feel." Hermione shrugged in an apologetic gesture.

"And since when does the resident know-it-all 'just feel', Hermione Jean Granger?" Potter's sidekick simply crossed his arms in front of his chest, glaring impatiently.

Outstanding, Weasley, absolutely outstanding. I wish I could still award you House points for this.

"Ronald Weasley, don't give me that look!"

"'Mione, I want to understand, that's all"

"Can't this wait until tomorrow? I promised your sister that I would go back to the Great Hall again."

No! Simply no! Say it, Weasley.

"No! I don't think so." The younger wizard shook his head determinedly, allowing Severus to catch the breath he hadn't been aware was holding.

"But ..."

"'Mione, please."

The witch sighed in defeat, pointing at the old trunk lying next to them on the shore.

"Well, I suggest we sit down, then. But honestly, I do not really know where to start, Ron," she confessed, taking her place on the trunk. Her voice was quiet but steady as she gazed at Weasley.

Meanwhile, an inner battle raged within Severus. The honorable part of him wanted to leave, not willing to sit in the shadows to listen to her explanation, but his suspicious, doubting side needed confirmation. What kind of Slytherin would he be to leave while a young, desirable woman presented her feelings for him on a silver tray? A smirk curled his lips.

"Maybe you should start with the moment that you 'just felt it', Mione," Weasley said quietly, all the hurt he had shown earlier gone from his voice.

Kneading her fingers nervously, Hermione started to speak. "Do you remember when we were attacked by a group of Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, just before our last Christmas break? Ginny, Harry, you and me?"

"Bloody hell, 'Mione. We thought we had lost you, you know, since Ginny had seen how you had been abducted by one of those monsters."

In the shadows nearby, Severus remembered said fateful incident all too well. It had been a narrow escape that day...for both of them.

"Well, I had just set out to come to your aid when I was dragged into a side road," she explained, while Weasley was watching her intently.

"Blimey, 'Mione, you were so lucky that you could overpower the bloke before he could take you to You-Know-Who." Weasley's relief at this favorable outcome was still plain in his words, but then he added nastily, "The whole Order went searching for you...well, except for Snape. Mum was nearly mad with fear, you know."

And Severus felt the sudden urge to strangle him, the ignorant, short-sighted Gryffindor.

"Merlin, Ron, he is dead. Say his name, just for once. V-o-l-d-e-m-o-r-t," Hermione ordered, irritated, only to see him shudder, and went on, "But I have to confess, I didn't tell you the whole truth at that time." The witch took a deep breath.

"I didn't overpower the Death Eater who abducted me. The Death Eater was Professor Snape. That's why he didn't participate in the search." And while she paused, obviously to let the boy grasp this new turn of events, Severus' stomach clenched at the painful memories her words summoned to the surface of his mind.

The Dark Lord had been well informed of the Trio's little Hogsmeade trip, and he had called his followers the night before to reveal his plan; he wanted to break Potter, inch by inch, by finally taking away everything that the boy loved. And Severus' supposed master had decided to start with another thorn in his side: the bright and young Muggleborn witch, who was living proof against his ideology of purity...Hermione Granger.

He had ordered Malfoy to take some of his men to capture the 'Mudblood' and bring her to him. It had been sheer luck that Severus had not been assigned to this task instead. Nevertheless, he had questioned Malfoy over a glass of wine about the blond wizard's plan to get the witch. A quick decision had been inevitable that night, and he hadn't even thought of consulting Albus about his plan.

The voice of Ronald Weasley stopped the flow of Severus' memories, bringing him back to the present.

"Blimey, 'Mione! Why didn't you tell us it had been Snape?"

"The Headmaster insisted that the Order wasn't to know. He was quite angry that Professor Snape had acted without his orders at that time," she explained, a rueful smile playing in the corners of her mouth.

Quite angry, that's an understatement, witch.

The Headmaster had been livid with him, for...how had he put it...thoughtlessly risking his life and worse, the cause, with this stunt, when he, the great Albus Dumbledore, could have found another way.

Severus snorted quietly.

Nothing but wishful thinking; there had been no other way. But Albus had been right on one point. Severus had not thought; he hadn't even needed to think. He had known...no, just felt...that he had to keep her from this fate.

In an unconscious gesture, he rubbed his chest, his eyes lingering on the witch as she continued her tale.

"No, we won't. They are after you." His voice was low and determined. "Now hold onto my waist, Miss Granger. We have a lot of Apparating to do."

A/N: A huge thank you to Sempra and her indispensible red quill.

Reviews are love :o)