Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the large bookcase, the titles too tempting and unfamiliar. She left the desk and moved as if on autopilot toward the shelf. Indeed, she was especially interested in the dark magic books. How could Snape have analyzed that in just a few seconds? His observation skills frightened her.
Slowly, Hermione's fingers moved tenderly over every book spine. She kept stopping and tilting her head to the left to better absorb the titles. One dark magic book after another lined up. Fascinated, she studied title after title.
Latest inventions in dark magic
Locating magically treated objects safely with dark magic methods – a practical guide
Interfaces between dark and white magic
Why we need dark magic – expanding horizons
Dark magic in healing arts
Hermione would have loved to stuff each book into her bag. Most of these books couldn't be bought in regular bookstores. But those were probably exactly the books that had cost Snape Lily's love in the end. Wasn't it strange that he still kept these books on the shelves and probably used them actively even after 20 years?
He had said too many things remained unsaid between him and Lily. Maybe Ron was right after all: she couldn't help Snape get over Lily as long as he saw only Lily as the solution. Would she ever manage to get him to open up to her instead of Lily, to leave his past behind? She doubted it more than ever.
A sudden idea made Hermione freeze. She hurried back to the shelf and deliberately grabbed a book whose title she had just caught. She carefully pulled it from the shelf and held it like a treasure. Her hand brushed over it, wiping dust off the top. Then she took her wand and transformed the book into a wooden ring, which she immediately slipped onto her right ring finger.
Like a thief, she looked around to see if Snape was watching, but there was no one.
Her carotid artery was throbbing, and she could hear her heartbeat. She was just stealing a book and, even worse, betraying the freshly placed trust Severus Snape had put in her! She trembled on the spot. Was she really just another disappointment alongside Snape's other bad experiences with people? She felt awful and would have loved to run out of the room immediately. Nevertheless, her left hand eagerly explored the wooden ring on her right hand. She had to do it. It was the only hope.
Snape returned, and Hermione was startled even though by then she was already back at the wound balm papers, diligently deriving formulas.
oOoOo
Seven hours later, with Snape's assistance, Hermione had worked through the entire case and put all the formulas for producing the wound balm and Nagini's antidote on paper.
Snape leaned standing beside Hermione at the desk, arms crossed, looking at his student with the proud satisfaction of a teacher.
"You are astonishing, Miss Granger, truly remarkable—your performance and above all your relentless perseverance."
Hermione was bathed in Snape's deep yet velvety voice, and a pleasant warmth flooded her body. She was sure her cheeks had instantly flushed red.
Never before had Snape radiated such soothing calm. Normally, in class, he was so focused on maintaining discipline that he could never relax. Not to mention that he deducted points every two minutes or verbally reprimanded students.
Hermione's smiling, happy eyes made Snape's gaze linger longer than he intended. The sight was too tempting.
"I actually planned to cover this material with you over the next four weeks," he said gently.
"It was wonderful, Professor," Hermione enthused. "Will you continue to show me such exciting things?" she asked exuberantly.
"I'll spend a few days pondering how to challenge you next week," he replied with obvious satisfaction. "But don't worry, I'll think of something."
"Thank you, Professor…"
Hermione now also stood to be on eye level with Snape. She looked him in the eyes, and for a brief moment, their gazes seemed to communicate in their own language.
"May I say something to you as a private person?" she asked without breaking eye contact.
Snape remained motionless.
"I feel very comfortable in your presence, and it's not only because you are a fascinating master of potions. You mean a lot to me, also as a person."
Hermione felt compelled to touch him and placed her hand on his shoulder. She let it rest there long enough that it would have required an explanation to keep it there any longer.
Snape stood like a pillar of ice, arms still crossed. Every movement seemed impossible.
"Good night, Professor," whispered Hermione as she almost silently passed him toward the door.
Snape cleared his throat. "Good night…"
"…Hermione," he finished the sentence as the door was already closing.
Only slowly did he recover from his paralysis. He was shocked at himself and the thoughts that had just passed through his head and other parts of his body when Hermione touched his arm. There had only been a few moments when their bodies had touched. Each time warmth flowed through him, but never like today. She had told him she liked him as a person—him, the school terror and most unsympathetic man imaginable! And then that touch. He was still completely electrified. Hermione Granger had thrown him off balance; he would have loved to hold her and at that moment…
What luck he hadn't been able to move. How could he think such things? She wasn't one of Voldemort's prey, whom he was used to taking whenever and however he wanted. Heaven, what was wrong with him, what did this woman awaken in him?
Admittedly, she was the only person in his new life whom he didn't constantly push away—and she was the only one who fought like a lioness for him to confront his past and present without expecting an obvious achievement, except maybe tutoring. He shook his head at that thought. She really was something special.
What did Granger want with Weasley? Damn it, he would ruin her whole life. So what? Should Granger get involved with him instead? He had to laugh loudly at himself. No, he was certainly no better choice. All he had to offer was a master potioneer title and a broken life.
His arousal subsided only slowly. His body still seemed to mourn the loss of the touch. That kind of touch was so infinitely foreign to him. In all the years with Voldemort, there had never been a single woman he truly desired, and if there was desire, it had been purely physical. But this felt completely different.
Again, images of Hermione pushed to the surface. She had become an attractive young woman—rational yet stubborn, highly intelligent and curious. Only that way could he tolerate women at all. She was so damn similar to Lily!
He ran his hands through his hair and exhaled heavily.
Was that it? Was his subconscious still searching for a replacement for Lily, the woman he had loved for as long as he could remember? Did his broken soul still long for something that would never be replaceable?
He went to the desk and pulled out the only photo of Lily he owned from the drawer. It was long wrinkled, but the familiar smile beamed at him just as vividly as back then. And even after all these years, this sight still violently tightened his throat. It would never be any different—never.
.
END OF CHAPTER
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