Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

He felt her fingers tentatively inch forward to tangle themselves in his hair.

"Don't."

She froze, her body tensing.

"I've been too careless as it is." His head still rested on her plump thighs, and he was loathe to remove himself.

"Professor..."

"Don't, please." Snape was not one to show weakness.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger." Snape lifted himself from his prone position, his face level with hers.

"I don't under..."

"Obliviate."

He rose to his feet, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Miss Granger, I insist you wake up this instant." The growl was soft, but menacing nonetheless.

Hermione blinked, dazed. Her head foggy, she rubbed her eyes. The last thing she recalled was fleeing his classroom. In a knee-jerk reaction, she grabbed her injured arm and shrunk away from her professor, her back pressed painfully against the glass of the window pane.

"Prof...Professor," she stuttered, her tongue heavy, mouth dry.

"Do quit sputtering, Miss Granger."

"Huh?" Hermione was disoriented, her mind addled. She spotted the worn, brown leather of her rucksack. "My bag? You brought my bag?"

"It's nice to see that even if that little know-it-all brain fails you, your prowess of visional perception is keen." A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

"But I thought..."

"Thought what exactly?" An eyebrow arched. "That you would reveal your little school girl crush and expect me to reciprocate such foolish, fleeting notions." He paused.

"Sev..."

"Have your senses taken leave, you daft girl? You shall address me as I am due; it is Professor or Master Snape."

Hermione choked back a sob, "I'm s...I don..."

She sucked in a breath, her throat constricting. "It won't happen again, sir." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she reached for her rucksack, holding it tightly against her chest like armor, her head bent low, shamed.

Snape replied with a noncommittal grunt.

"I called you a coward. I was angry... Have you never said something in the heat of the moment?"

"That is beside the point, Miss Granger."

"No, sir, I do not believe it is," Hermione snapped.

"Keep your voice down, you silly girl."

"No one is here." Letting her bag fall to the ground, she extended her arms to gesture to the empty library. "The students are in Hogsmeade, and Madam Pince is at her desk."

"Impertinent..."

"Don't you dare lecture me about respect." Her chin jutted out in defiance.

"The kitten has claws," he mocked.

Hermione shook her head, saddened. "I pity you. You're a worthless excuse of a man... to trounce on the feelings of another..." She made to stand and collected her bag. "You are nothing but a coward."

He expected disgust or venom to coat her words, but neither emotion was present as her words rang hollow in his ears.

Three slow claps of false appreciation echoed off the stacks of books. "Thank you, Miss Granger; I was wondering how long it would take you to arrive at the inevitable conclusion. I applaud you for bearing my presence longer than most."

She opened her mouth, but closed it. Heaving her bag over her left shoulder, she maneuvered around him.

Her feet felt laden as she took step after step, debating whether or not turn around.

Severus watched as her steps slowed. How he wanted her to turn around, to meet his eyes, to know his words were lies. Know that she could never share in a part of his life other than in their prescribed roles as a professor and pupil.

She didn't turn back; she walked out of the library and out of his life, just like Lily had done so many years ago.

Posture stilted, he sighed.

"You're free, Mo Cuishle."

Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Anger was an emotion she was comfortable dealing with. Hurt, on the other hand, hurt dealt the harshest blow. He didn't want her; he turned her away like an errant, annoying child with a silly crush. She had thought there was something there, a connection; she assumed that the solace he begrudgingly at first offered then gave freely meant something more. How foolish to believe she could penetrate his cold heart and touch his blackened soul.

Someone grabbed her robe; she tensed and whirled around, wand out.

"Didn't you hear..."

Ron swallowed the remnants of his Chocolate Frog.

"I've been calling you." The redhead eased away from the witch, his eyes moving from her face to the wand that was dangerously close to his chest.

"Ron! Don't sneak up on me. I could've hexed you." She tucked her wand back into the sleeve of her robe.

"Sorry." He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I... ah... I felt bad about yesterday." His ears were quickly changing from pink to red. "I bought you a Chocolate Frog." He held out the wrapped confection to her.

Hermione softened, her annoyance momentarily forgotten. She knew the Weasleys were tight for money, and for Ron... A smile graced her lips.

"Thank you, Ron. Sometimes you can be incredibly sweet." She took the chocolate from his outstretched palm.

Black eyes narrowed as he watched the scene before him unfold from the shadows. A pang of guilt coursed through him at the lost and haunted look flickering briefly in her eyes.

"How was detention with the Greasy Git?"

Tawny eyes flashed with anger. "It's Professor Snape, Ron."

A smirk flitted upon the Potions master's lips. Bloody Gryffindors and their sense of loyalty.

"Mr. Weasley, disparaging the good name of a Hogwarts professor? Fifteen points from Gryffindor." Snape's smooth baritone echoed in the nearly deserted hallway.

"Sorry, sir," Ron grumbled, not looking the slightest bit apologetic.

Hermione looked between the two, annoyed that Snape had been following her.

"Professor," Hermione acknowledged, an edge to her tone.

"Miss Granger." His eyes flicked to the gauze that had begun to unravel on her left hand.

She tucked her hand into the pocket of her robe. A flush burned her cheeks.

"Ron and I were just heading to dinner, sir." The excuse was lame, even as Ron's stomach grumbled, but being caught between him and Ron was making her twitchy. She saw Ginny and Dean heading their way and waved them over. "If you'll excuse us, sir."

Students had begun to filter in by the droves.

Snape turned on his heel, heading for the dungeons, robes flowing behind him.

"What was that about?" Ginny inquired.

Hermione shot a look towards Ron.

"How was I supposed to know the git was there?" he huffed. "He's a right bastard, that one."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Bad day?" she said as she looped her arm through Hermione's.

"Cleaning cauldrons without magic." The lie rolled off her tongue.

"C'mon, Harry heard it from Dobby that fig pudding is for dessert."

Hermione smiled as she let Ginny lead her to the Great Hall.

_______________________________________

Snape paced his rooms. It was for the best. He did the right thing.

"I did the right thing." He spoke aloud, as if to utter the words granted validity to them.

Crime and Punishment still set on his end table. Sonia followed Roskonlikov to the bowels of hell. He would not allow Miss Granger to do the same.

So he took the option from her with a well-cast Obliviate.

He picked up the book. He'd had it since his days at Hogwarts. It had been a gift from Lily. He cherished it as he had the lock of hair he had shorn from her wild red mane as her body lay at peace, covering little Harry's.

Severus ran his fingers over the worn cover. He held the binding to his nose, inhaling the scent of paper, glue and dust. He set it back down and went to his bedroom. At his bureau, he opened the drawers and removed the paneling. Next to his blade, a tin box and Pensieve rested.

He picked the box up. Breath held, he opened it.

Inside lay the rosary his grandmother had given him on his First Communion, her rosary she bequeathed him on her deathbed, as well as the engagement ring his grandfather had given her. Newspaper clippings of his parents' obituaries, a picture of Lily and himself on her tenth birthday, and a lock of red hair bound in a bit of ribbon. He picked the lock up. It still felt like the finest silk to his fingers. He closed his eyes, remembering running his fingers through Lily's thick, fiery hair as he shared his first kiss. Both had been twelve and unsure of where to place their noses or what to do with their tongues, so they settled on openmouthed kisses.

He brought the lock to his nose, the ends tickling him as he breathed in. After all these years it still smelled of cherry blossoms.

He set the box on his bed and moved back into the living room. Picking up his book, he set the lock of hair in between the pages and tossed it in the fireplace watching the flickering flames turn his past to ash.

"Goodbye, my Lily, and may you forgive me my sins."

He padded back into the bedroom, closed the lid on the old biscuit tin, and reached for his Pensieve. His hands were trembling as he sat on the edge of his bed, the small bowl resting on his lap.

Indecisiveness warred within his gut before he plowed ahead, immersing himself in memories of his past. Severus was falling, gliding through time, through hurt, love, anger, pain, guilt. The emotions threatened to overwhelm him as scenes of his life ran before his eyes, grey muddled strands coming to life, focusing and creating moving pictures he'd rather not remember and those he could not bear to part with.

He found himself outside the library of Grimmauld Place, his memory counterpart pressed against the door left slightly ajar, listening to the Golden Trio's latest squabble.

Her hair was done up in a ponytail; wisps of golden honey-hued curls framed her face. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips.

Hermione chose to ignore the comment as she took a breath, the memory of all the blood still at the forefront of her mind. "I was walking back to my room, and they were in the study, Professors Dumbledore and Snape. I don't think they saw me; the door hadn't been closed all the way... He was hurt, badly from what I could see. His head was bleeding. Blood was everywhere... I don't know how he managed to stand..." Hermione trailed off..

Severus studied himself, his memory form, watched how his eyes closed, how the warmth of her kindness and concern washed over him. If he recalled correctly, this was the summer of their fifth year going into their sixth; Hermione had been subjected to the Fealty.

Images swirled, blurring; he saw snatches of his grandmother and himself attending Mass. Saw as a child his father beat his mother, the metal of the belt buckle leaving welts with every blow. The images shifted. He was in the library at Grimmauld Place; the time frame was the same as the previous memory.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione stood in the entrance of the library, book in her hands, watching with some amusement as her Potions professor, on his hands and knees, was stooped, his wand tip lit, scouring underneath the sofa.

He made to leave. "Oh, one more thing, Miss Granger, the tea and biscuits are an appreciated gesture. Thank you."

He tore himself from the Pensieve. Jarred, he set it aside. Severus was back in his rooms. Never had his solitude affected him so. Miss Granger, he learned, had taken to leaving a cup of tea and a plate of butterscotch biscuits in the kitchen for him on those nights the Dark Lord would call him to serve.

His thoughtful, brave, little Gryffindor.

"Hermione," her name a prayer on his lips, "thank you."

__________________________________________

A/N: Thank you SLU, and to my readers/reviewers, my heartfelt appreciation goes out to you.