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Everything, as they say, seemed perfect, but nevertheless something had been in the air for a couple of days; Hermione had to admit it. She constantly saw the sideways glances that her colleagues gave her, heard them whispering behind her back and even heard a giggle yesterday. The giggle came from Professor Vector, and nobody in their right mind could ever think she actually knew how to do it. But yet she did; clearly and distinctly. Twice. Yesterday, Hermione shuddered. But today, when she caught Professor McGonagall’s indignant look, Hermione felt really uncomfortable.
For a start Hermione thought she’d see if she could possibly remember why the Headmistress is mad at her: curriculum turned in, additional workload taken, patrolling duties on Sunday – even those are welcome.
“Meet me in my office after breakfast, Hermione,” said the Headmistress through pursed lips.
Inside Hermione’s head:
“We’re going to be beaten.”
“If not kicked!”
“Stop indulging him, Anger, he’s already about to hide in the corner.”
“There are no corners – everything is round in here.”
“That’s disgusting – I can’t imagine how we would look with a square head.”
“Let go of me! Anger wants to use Dark Magic again.”
“Hold him tight or he’ll run off again. And we’re already not afraid of anything.”
“We’re afraid of Professor McGonagall.”
“We are not afraid of her, we respect her.”
“You are an optimist.”
***
Hermione nervously straightened her robe and sat in the chair in front of Minerva’s desk. The Headmistress looked at her over her glasses with a kind of sadness.
“Hermione, dear, I’ve always known you as an honest, kind, sweet and smart girl.”
The beginning didn’t sound good. Hermione nervously interlocked her fingers.
“I’ve always respected teachers’ rights on privacy, but what’s happening right now goes far beyond it and directly concerns the professional sphere.”
Hermione froze.
“Minerva…,” her voice broke, “I don’t understand!”
“My dear, you do know how hard it was to persuade Professor Snape to return to school.”
Of course, Hermione did: it was the time of her internship at Hogwarts when this charade happened. Slughorn’s moaning, that he was old, weak in body and spirit, that the constant interaction with children was dangerous for his poor health – already deteriorated due to teaching – had echoed around the castle’s arches so often, and so loud, that not only the teachers, but also the students themselves, had heard about it by now. And at some point during a regular staff meeting, Hermione had shyly suggested finding another teacher. And even kind of mentioned Snape, who by then had already been convicted, amnestied, covered with legends and myths and rolled in mud and praises. What made her so sure that Snape was sad and bored staying home alone after Azkaban, and that their warm and friendly team would be able to help him adjust to freedom? In fact, why did she open her big mouth? The point is it was not surprising that she had been authorized to negotiate with the professor.
He wouldn’t talk to her. At all. When Hermione bumped into his closed door at Spinner's End for the third time, she suddenly realized it had become a matter of principle for her. She had maintained a siege following the rules of military art: sat by his door for hours, wrote him plenty of letters, organized delegations of teachers, brought Minerva, and had even once dragged to Snape’s house a practically sobbing Slughorn. She and Professor McGonagall had obtained every possible approval from the Ministry. Finally she began to wonder if it wasn’t the time to bring up the heavy artillery, namely Harry, who she periodically informed on hostilities. However, she doubted her friend totally understood the severity of the problem, because the broad smile on his face clearly showed that he didn’t sympathize with Hermione, in fact, quite the contrary.
In the end it was Minerva who came up with the drastic solution; she promised the fiercely defensive Snape such a huge salary that even Slughorn hesitated and almost changed his mind about resigning. Hermione felt like a fool. And since her return to Hogwarts as a Transfiguration teacher she felt as though she were a nobody. Not always; only when Professor Snape happened to be around. He wouldn’t notice her. Ever. And she was ready for all kinds of negativity aimed at her: mockery, taunts, sarcasm, abuses and god knows what else.
The reality was much, much worse – he simply ignored her. In case (Merlin forbid!) he had to communicate to her, his words were uttered through gritted teeth, his eyes rushed somewhere above her head and the phrases were compiled comprehensively and very informatively. Apart from that, she merely didn’t exist.
At first Hermione felt guilty, then angry. The anger gradually grew into self-esteem and she just stopped noticing Professor Snape too. It is difficult to treat a person like him as a piece of furniture, but eventually she managed to do exactly that. And actually Hermione was glad that by a happy coincidence of circumstances she was being neglected by the professor, whose non-trivial knowledge of human nature and mental activity never gave the victims of his attention the slightest chance.
And now Hermione was sitting in McGonagall’s office and bewilderedly staring into her strict face; the Headmistress was clearly trying to hint at something.
“Professor Snape wrote his letter of resignation.”
All the air seemed to leave Hermione’s body as she dumbfoundedly looked at the sheet of parchment rustling in Minerva’s hands.
“And what’s this got to do with me?”
The Headmistress removed her glasses, polished them and planted them back on her nose.
“Hermione, I understand you’re a young woman. An intelligent young woman. I heard it didn’t work out for you and Mr. Weasley, but certainly you’ll have plenty of admirers – no need to despair.”
Hermione’s mouth slowly rounded as Minerva continued.
“And that’s wonderful!”
“Is it?”
“It is. But…”
Professor McGonagall gave her a reproachful look. Hermione swallowed.
“But, Hermione, I’ve never thought you could be so sophisticatedly cruel!”
“What?!”
“My dear, everybody can see Professor Snape’s attitude toward you!”
“Can they?”
“Of course, they can! No one says you have to respond to his feelings, but couldn’t you, at least not torture him?”
“Me?” Hermione gasped for air. “What feelings? Are you kidding me?!”
Minerva pursed her lips.
“Professor Snape is in love with you, Hermione, and you totally ignore him! He suffers so much! He just couldn’t tolerate such neglect from you and decided to leave the castle! And where are we going to find a decent potionmaker at the beginning of the school year?”
For a few more seconds Hermione silently stared at the Headmistress and then leaned back in her chair and burst out laughing.
“He hates me with a burning passion!” heard McGonagall through her laughter. “He hates me ever since… And anyway, what makes you think that?”
Minerva sadly looked at her favorite ex-student.
“Give him a chance, Hermione. Just look closely at him.”
“What?”
“I don’t urge you to love him back immediately!” Minerva shook her head. “Just see him as a person. I suspect you don’t give him enough credit ever since school, but you do know everything he went through…”
“Are you serious right now?”
The smile on Hermione’s face began to fade. She wiped away the tears of laughter that had formed in the corner of her eyes, and in turmoil looked into the Headmistress’ sympathetic face.
“Absolutely.” was the answer.
Inside Hermione’s head:
“I told you, we had to run!”
“We’ll go to the dungeon and just kill him!”
“The poor thing!”
“That’s Snape you’re talking about!”
“Professor Snape!”
“We’ll kill Minerva as well!”
“He’s always so sad!”
“He’s got greasy hair!”
“And we’ll kill Vector as well!”
“He’s been through so much!”
“He’s got a hooked nose! And his skin looks like he’s at death’s door!”
“I suggest a small genocide within this very school!”
“But he’s suffering!”
“He’s got a terrible temper!”
“It's a conspiracy! They want us to look ridiculous! They’re making fun of us! This is a flash mob! We must look pretty dumb! Okay, where’s our parchment and quill? We’ll write a letter of resignation ourselves!”
“I know a pretty little spell… Once we read it in a book from the Restricted Section. And I remembered it!”
“Get him off the Red button!”
“What makes them think that Snape’s in love with us?”
“Have you seen how he looks at us?”
“He doesn’t look at us at all. He ignores us!”
“This is a sign of love!”
“Now, who told you that?”
“It was written in a book, and I remembered! It said that boys always mess with girls to get their attention: pull their pigtails, shred their notebooks… Maybe he can’t do it the other way! He’s very shy!”
“Remind me to cancel your access to Long-Term Memory.”
“He is a moral freak and a psychological pervert. That’s that!”
“As long as he is a good person…”
“Snape?!”
“Professor Snape!”
“Attention! He’s now on the horizon!”
“He’s coming…”
“…Towards us!”
“Let’s hide, huh? I can see a perfectly suitable niche over there. And why? Why do we still not know any spells that allow for falling through a floor?”
“He looks so sad.”
“All in black.”
“A nasty, vicious creep!”
“He’s known so much misery.”
“I suggest spit in his face and honestly ask him what the hell is going on here?!”
“He’s coming. Closer, closer, closer… Who suggested killing him – he’s within striking distance now. Ohh.”
“Ohh.”
“Ohh.”
“Ohh.”
“Holy cow.”
“All of us saw that – did he really look at us?”
“Have you noticed how sad and deep his eyes are?”
“I recommend scratching them out!”
“Now, tie Anger up. Tighter, tighter. We must go to Madam Pomfrey.”
“To get some sedative?”
“Well, that as well.”
***
Hermione tensely watched Madam Pomfrey count down the required number of drops, and she couldn’t resist.
“You know everything, don’t you?”
Madam Pomfrey finished and handed her a glass of Calming Draught.
“What do I know?”
“You always know everything.” Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Is it a prank?”
Madam Pomfrey sat down next to Hermione and took her hand.
“Hermione, dear, we are all ourselves a bit shocked, but since we know that Professor… Severus… that he has feelings…”
Hermione exhaled loudly and hissed through gritted teeth.
“What. Makes. You. Think. He. Has. Feelings?!”
“I was told by Professor Vector.”
“How did she know?”
“Was told by Pomona.”
“Okay.” Hermione mentally counted to ten. “And she?”
“Heard it from Madam Hooch.”
“And?”
“Who was told by Filius.”
“?”
“He was told by Professor Binns.”
“Okay.”
“To him it was blurted out by Hagrid.”
“W-what?!”
“Yes, my dear.” Madam Pomfrey soothingly patted her on the arm. “And then we all saw it too!”
“Saw what exactly?” Hermione shifted nervously.
Madam Pomfrey lowered her voice, leaning closer to the young witch.
“He looks at you.” And, as if Hermione haven’t been through enough already, she added in the same conspiratorial whisper. “And sighs.”
Hermione pulled her hand out and jumped to her feet.
“This is absurd! He… He is… He’s Professor Snape!”
“He is a human being as well, isn’t he?” Madam Pomfrey shrugged her shoulders.
Inside Hermione’s head:
“Let’s kill him after all? Death solves all problems - no man, no problem.”
“He’s got a chiseled jaw.”
“He’s skinny. We don’t like skinny men.”
“He’s not skinny, he’s lean.”
“When did you check his body?”
“Stop that, all of you! Everyone is just imagining this. Nobody is looking at us and nobody is sighing because of us. Besides, nothing will work out for us, as usual.”
“His black eyes are so twinkly… Look how elegantly he holds the fork.”
“Look away! I said, look away!”
“Besides, he’s a great teacher. An erudite.”
“Next thing you’ll be saying is he’s a war hero who did so much for the victory and he has sensitive feelings.”
“Oh, yeah. His feelings are akin to the mad Manticore…”
“Oops! He’s looking at us! Emergency! Is everything okay with our hair? Merlin, why do we still wear this cloak? We bought a new one ages ago! We haven’t got broccoli in our teeth, have we?”
“Shut up, you idiot!”
“Hold her! We’re going to smile!”
“Where’s my button?”
“Snape is looking at us! He is still looking at us!”
“Vector! Minerva! They are all looking at us! What do we do?! What do we do?! Agh!”
“Here it is – here is my pretty little button…”
“Let go of me and hold him! He’ll destroy everything! We are not going to smile! Honestly! No!”
***
Hermione pushed her chair back loudly and got up from the table. She crumpled her napkin, threw it on the table and in complete silence left the Great Hall.
Professor Snape sighed.
***
Barely had her knock on the door subsided than a tall figure attired in a black frock coat loomed in the doorway. Hermione put her hand down and swallowed.
“You…”
Professor Snape’s straight face remained emotionless.
“You…”
His eyebrow arched questioningly.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You finally found a way to take your revenge? After all this time!”
His thin lips parted.
“Three years.”
Though she couldn’t see him well in the semi-darkness of the corridor, Hermione thought she noticed a grin slide across his lips.
“That was enough time to not only cool off, but also turn sour as well. What is it, if not revenge? Why are you doing this?” Her voice rang out in tears. “You… You are such a serious man and suddenly… Why? Are you bored? Did you decide to make fun of me before you go? That’s right, you’ll leave and they’ll mock me for years…”
He froze for a moment and then said hoarsely.
“Do you really think it’s so funny – Professor Snape falling in love?”
“With me?!”
He stepped forward and for a moment Hermione caught her breath. Snape took her chin with two fingers and forced her to lift her face up. He slowly leaned closer and whispered.
“Maybe, to me, you seemed the most suitable candidate…”
Inside Hermione’s head:
“No-ow… She’s cutting us off! We’re loosing her!”
“Hormones, hormones are getting involved!”
“His eyes are so deep!”
“He smells of something…bitter…and spicy…”
“He smells of danger!”
“He’s mocking us…”
“How dare he treat us like this?!”
“Look, our palms have started to sweat. And not only them.”
“Merlin! Why aren’t we wearing that lacy brassiere Ginny gave us?”
“We look like a total idiot!”
“We have to do something!”
“Too late…”
***
“Maybe, to me, you seemed the most suitable candidate…”
Hermione’s eyes half-closed and she started hyperventilating.
“…to switch patrolling duties.”
Hermione shut her eyes tight and shook her head.
“I am planning to conduct a series of experiments, but there are these duties. For some reason, only you, Granger, refused to switch with me.”
“What?” Her face turned white. “This is all about you coming to me two weeks ago and grumbling something like: “Granger, I suggest you take a shift on the fifth and on the eighth”?”
“You didn’t even bother to answer.”
“I had to think about it.” Hermione hissed.
“So? Have you?” Snape’s other eyebrow arched as well.
“As you wish!” She contemptuously spat out and began to walk away.
After a few steps she turned around; Snape still stood in the doorway watching her go.
“Will you take back your letter of resignation?”
He tilted his head.
“Of course, if now I am able to conclude my studies in peace.”
“And will you stop faking your covert sufferings?” Her voice was steady and quiet.
He paused for a moment and nodded.
Snape stood, learning against the door jamb, and listened to the clatter of heels sinking into the depths of the corridor.
“But then again, maybe not.” He said to himself and carefully closed the door.
Inside Snape’s head:
“Hey, Purple, you owe me 20 galleons!”