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Matters of the Heart	By : strawberryf1re Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 34556 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe (characters, settings, etc.) ŠJ.K. Rowling. No profits are made from this work.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Rating: M – inappropriate for readers under the age of 16; contains scenes of explicit sexuality and violence.

Disclaimer: Characters and settings ©J.K. Rowling

Matters of the Heart

K. Marie

Chapter 11

The sun rose on a beautiful morning. It was finally the weekend of the first trip to Hogsmeade, and Hermione had been awake since seven getting ready. When she finally descended the staircase to the common room, the boys were nowhere to be seen.

“Big surprise,” she said to herself, a slight smile crossing her lips. “They’ve probably overslept as usual.”

Like clockwork, the boys came like a pair of elephants down the staircase. Hermione turned quickly to face them: Harry’s black hair was a mop atop his head, Ron’s freckled face contorted into a sleepy yawn.

“Come on, we’re going to be late!” Hermione grabbed the boys’ hands and led them from the common room and eventually to the Great Hall.

The hall was a cacophony of voices and shuffling feet. In the distance, the red mane of Ginny Weasley shone brightly in the morning sun and they pushed through the crowd towards her. Hermione kept an eye out the entire time for the familiar black sheet of hair that belonged to her lover, but he was nowhere to be found.

The trip to Hogsmeade seemed quicker than usual as the four of them just chattered nonsensically about nothing in particular. The first stop on the agenda was the Three Broomsticks, where the friends sat at a table near a window.

“How is your apprenticeship going, ‘Mione?” the topic finally came about, as Neville Longbottom took a seat beside Ginny at the corner of the table.

“Wonderfully, actually,” Hermione replied. “It’s kept me quite busy, and Professor Snape seems to be quite pleased with my work so far.” Sipping from her butterbeer, she stifled a laugh as she looked to Neville, whose face morphed into an exaggerated gawk.

“You mean Snape actually said something nice to you?” Neville asked, taking a gulp from his mug.

“Yes, actually,” Hermione replied, and she willed her face to keep from blushing. If only they knew the things he had spoken to her in recent weeks, they wouldn’t believe it was the same man. Sometimes she hardly could believe that it was the Professor Snape she had come to know over the past six years!

Eagerly, Neville chattered on about his work with Professor Sprout, while Harry and Ron interjected with their own happy experiences with Professor Huxley. Hermione was very happy to hear that her friends were having just as much fun in their own projects, and she was eager to hear what they were learning about, but that subject was evaded – after all, only Hermione Granger would be excited to talk about school projects on a weekend!

They eagerly discussed everything from schoolwork to Quidditch. While Hermione and Neville had little to contribute on the side of athletics, they branched off into their own quiet discussion. It seemed Neville was quite astonished to hear that Snape was not always “evil,” as the awkward Gryffindor put it, and that he had indeed actually complimented Hermione.

“Does he have any other apprentices?” Neville asked, gulping from his butterbeer.

“No, actually,” Hermione replied, touching her finger to her chin. “I thought it was a bit odd, too – but I never really asked him about it.”

“I don’t imagine many students willingly work with him!” Neville replied, a sheepish laugh escaping him. “I know I certainly wouldn’t… I bet even if he did get a lot of requests, he’d refuse most of them.”

Hermione smiled kindly at Neville, touching his hand comfortingly. “How is Herbology?”

“Fantastic, really!” Neville exclaimed, the excitement very apparent in his voice. “Professor Sprout has even let me teach some of the first years.”

“That’s great, Neville!” Hermione clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful!”

“What’s wonderful, ‘Mione?” Ron interjected, wiping his upper lip of foam.

Casting a look at Neville, Hermione hesitated in answering. She knew if Severus had ever granted her such an opportunity, she would very much wish to be the one to share it with her friends! Neville did not miss a beat though, and turned to the second youngest Weasley.

“I’ve gotten to teach a couple classes of Herbology,” Neville replied. “First years. For part of my project.”

“Oh, that is great, mate! Are you thinking of coming back to teach after we graduate?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Neville shook his head, his cheeks tinged pink.

Hermione smiled, bumping her elbow into Neville’s side playfully. It seemed her conversation with Neville inspired the other two boys to finally describe some of their own assignments for their apprenticeships, and Harry had indeed been given the opportunity to teach some first year classes, while Ron had been in the process of developing a countercurse.

“That’s fascinating, Ron!” Hermione exclaimed. “How is it going so far?”

Ron lowered his eyes to the table, shrugging his shoulders almost sheepishly. “Well… it could be going better. Let’s just say I’m no Harry Potter! Creating spells is a lot harder than just learning them…”

Hermione smiled sympathetically. “Yes, I imagine!”

It was an hour later when they decided to peruse the shops of Hogsmeade. Hermione had insisted they browse Tomes and Scrolls, to which the boys begrudgingly agreed, but only if she agreed to accompany them to Zonko’s. Neville had left them to go to the herbology shoppe.

As they were leisurely touring the small village, their conversation was mostly quiet. She led the way to the bookstore, hurrying to the section on potions, while Harry and Ron were looking through the dark arts (and, of course, defense of) texts. Hermione was quite eager to add to her collection of books but controlled her compulsive desire; what were the odds there was a single book here that would be useful to her that Severus did not already own?

Harry bid Hermione and Ron a quick farewell as Ginny dragged him to Spintwitches to ogle the new broomstick models. Hermione and Ron, left to their own devices, slowly made their way to Zonko’s.

“I can’t believe you still spend your money here, Ronald Weasley!” Hermione laughed as he held the door open for her.

“I can’t believe you don’t own all the books at Tomes already, ‘Mione,” he retorted, a sheepish grin crossing his face.

They browsed the shoppe, Ron commenting about how the inventory paled in comparison to his brothers’ business. They ended up leaving the store with empty hands, and walked through the streets with no particular destination in mind.

“Are you really enjoying your work with Snape?” Ron asked her, his voice hesitant. She didn’t know if he was just weary of opening the conversation of her schoolwork (as she was very capable of talking one’s ear off about learning) or if there was something else that made him apprehensive.

Turning her head towards him, she smiled. “I am. I’m learning a lot from him.”

“But he’s making you work so much,” Ron groaned. “I can’t believe you’re not completely mental yet.”

“He’s not as bad as you think, Ron,” Hermione said, her voice almost sad. “He’s… I think he just gets tired of students who really have little comprehension of the art of potion-making.”

“But really,” Ron started, looking at the ground as they walked. “He always treated us all so bad. A real git, ya know? I don’t get how you could honestly be enjoying yourself.”

Hermione frowned, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She knew his dislike of Severus was warranted, but she found it very difficult to keep from jumping to his defense. “He’s not like that when we’re alone, Ron.”

“He’s still a complete git to you every other time though, ‘Mione. I don’t know if I believe it’s any different any other time!”

Even though she knew it was inappropriate, she was beginning to grow quite irritated with Ron’s argument. She wanted to just burst out and tell him he hadn’t any idea what he was talking about, he didn’t know Severus the way she did – but there would be no doubt that the conversation would lead into uncertain territory.

It simply wasn’t the right time yet.

“Well, Ron,” Hermione had stopped walking, turning towards her best friend and touching his arm. “You don’t have to believe me, I suppose. But I am telling you, Professor Snape isn’t as bad as you think he is. Really.”

Ron frowned, rolling on the balls of his feet. “I don’t know, Hermione. It’s just hard to believe.”

He turned, beginning his slow pace once more, and Hermione remained by his side. It suddenly felt as though the air around them was heavy with unspoken conversation.

“It’s just…” Ron started, his voice wavering in its strength. “It’s just… I still… I still care about you, ya know? It’s hard for me to… It’s hard to see anyone treat you badly. I already don’t like Snape at all, but he makes it worse when he makes fun of you in class.”

Hermione smiled, reaching for Ron’s hand. Lacing her fingers in his, she pulled him towards her, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Gently, she kissed his cheek. His arms around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to him, and he buried his face in the mass of her hair.

“That means a lot to me, Ron,” she whispered to him, pulling away from the hug. “Don’t worry though; Professor Snape isn’t as critical when it’s just us.”

Ron eyed her with feigned suspicion. “If I didn’t know better, ‘Mione, I’d say he had a crush.”

Her cheeks pinked and she shook her head, continuing to walk to keep Ron from seeing her flustered expression. “It’s not that, Ron. I think my appreciation for potions improves his mood some!”

“Ah, rubbish,” Ron laughed, draping his arm across her shoulders. “He’d be bloody mad if he wasn’t falling in love with you.”

Hermione stifled a small laugh, turning her face to the ground as her cheeks pinked. She didn’t know what to make of his comment, but then, she knew she was probably thinking too much on it in the first place.

If only you knew, Ron! She thought to herself, smiling.

Eventually, Ron and Hermione parted ways; Ron wanted to join his sister and best friend in the athletic shop, and with little interest in following him, Hermione wandered aimlessly through the bustling streets of Hogsmeade. The weather was beautiful for so late in autumn, and she had not a complaint in the world.

Turning a corner to an empty alleyway, Hermione came across an old alchemy shop. She looked up at the dusty, battered sign, and was only able to make out a little of its words: “ elli n’s P tion Pa l ur.”

The corners of her mouth tugged into a sly smile. Fleetingly, she thought perhaps she’d run into Severus there. She knew he did most of his shopping in Diagon Alley, but it was possible, was it not? He could very well be in the store and what harm could bumping into her mentor cause? If he was shopping, she could even accompany him under the pretense she was assisting him, as it would come to no surprise to anyone who knew her!

Pushing open the door, a small bell above her head jingled, announcing her entrance. There was no one behind the counter, but there were shelves upon shelves lining the room. It seemed the building was magically enhanced to be larger on the inside than the outside, as the shelves reached at least twenty feet in the air, and the ceiling even higher.

Each footstep threw little clouds of dust into the air as Hermione moved through the aisles, reading the dusty labels before row after row of tiny vials. There was little sound; the distant chattering of witches and wizards outside could be heard and the quiet clunk of Hermione’s shoes rattled the jars at the bottoms of the racks. She thought she heard another pair of feet stepping through the shop, but she could not be sure.

Picking up a small vial, Hermione turned it around in her fingers. Within the glass, a purplish-black liquid sloshed about. The label upon the shelf was illegible it was so laden with dirt and grime from years of neglect. The vial itself was gritty to the touch, and she set it back down.

After she came to the end of a rack, she looked up and down the hall between it and the next set of shelves. She heard a pair of male voices, and one sounded very familiar. She felt her heart skip a beat as she turned down the aisle. The voices grew louder as she came closer to their source, and as she peered down a row, there he stood, his black cloak draped over his sharp shoulders.

The clerk of the store looked over Severus’ shoulder at her. He, too, turned his head in her direction, and a small gesture of his hand indicated he acknowledged her presence there. He nodded at the clerk and he departed quietly with an arm’s full of vials. Severus turned on his heel, approaching her.

“Miss Granger,” his oily voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“Hello, Professor,” she returned, equally as professional.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Severus slowly approached her. “This shoppe is not often visited, let alone by a student.”

“I assumed such, considering its neglected state,” Hermione replied, nodding to the dusty floor.

“What brings you to this end of Hogsmeade?” Severus asked, standing beside her. The front counter could be seen from where they stood, but the clerk was nowhere in sight.

“I was with Harry and Ron, but they went to Spintwitches. I ended up here by sheer chance.” Hermione looked up at him, but he still didn’t look her in the face. “Are you… shopping?”

“Obviously,” he answered, crassly. “Just purchasing the ingredients that we could not find in the forest. It saves us the time of preparing them as well, as they come in any state I so choose.”

“Is there anything I could help with?” she asked.

“Professor Snape,” the clerk called, returning to the counter with the vials. “Your order.”

Severus swept away from Hermione. Examining the jars, he grumbled to the man: “Put these on the Hogwarts bill.” The clerk nodded, turning towards the register. “I’m through here,” Severus said as he turned to Hermione, peering down his hooked nose at her. “I was going to stop in the Hog’s Head for a drink.”

Hermione nodded slowly, seemingly pondering. She took a small step towards him and asked, “May I join you?”

He nodded, turning from her. Hermione followed him as he swept through the store, throwing dust up in his wake, irritating Hermione’s senses and causing her to sneeze on several occasions before they departed with a large paper bag full of clinking vials.

They spoke little as they approached the Hog’s Head. When Severus held open the door, he nodded to the bartender and followed Hermione to a table. Unsurprisingly, the place was virtually empty, a shady figure here and there, but each kept to themselves.

They were in a darkened corner near the back of the pub, and the bartender brought Severus a golden liquid and Hermione a butterbeer. They sat opposite each other at the table, their heads tipped towards the table to talk quietly.

“For future reference, Miss Granger, I would appreciate it if you would not make a habit of socializing outside of my classroom,” his voice was a low grumble as he spoke to her, but she knew he was only maintaining their public façade.

“Of course, Professor,” she replied, equally as quietly and just as professionally. “I had a question, though.”

“Go on.”

“I was wondering…” Hermione began, looking at the foam head of her drink. “Will I ever get an opportunity to teach some of your classes?”

“That is an audacious suggestion, Miss Granger,” his lip curled.

“Well, both Harry and Neville have—”

“Ah, yes,” Severus crooned, eyeing her. His black eyes were glittering in the candlelight of the pub, and Hermione resisted the urge to reach across the table and kiss him deeply. “When you have proven you are competent enough to guide my class through a lesson, perhaps I will extend the same opportunity that Professors Huxley and Sprout have.”

“But Se—”

“Do not argue with me, Miss Granger, or you will find that I am not so pleasant to work with,” his voice was icy, but Hermione knew, however convincing his charade was, it was just that. It was no wonder he was such a skilled agent! As she looked at him, she recognized the subtle tug of his mouth that was a concealed smile.

“I understand,” she said, sitting back in her seat. She sipped from her butterbeer, eyeing him over the lip. The flame from the candle on their table flickered awkward shadows across his face, but as he watched her, there was something in his eye that she knew was meant only for her.

“Why don’t you have any other apprentices?” she asked softly, turning her head to the side.

His lips curled into a small smirk, and he leaned back in his chair. “As you can imagine, Miss Granger, I am not a very popular teacher among the students.”

“But you’re a fantastic Potions Master,” Hermione replied, her voice rushed.

“That being so, every year I’ve had one or two students request such an arrangement,” he growled. “You should not be surprised that, while my restrictions regarding eligibility for my N.E.W.T. level courses are indeed limiting, those for an apprenticeship are even more demanding. Very few students are ever eligible.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Severus leaned into the table. “I do not appreciate wasting my time, Miss Granger,” he growled. “And if a student has not performed exceptionally well in my classes, their request for an apprenticeship is dismissed without consideration.”

Hermione couldn’t help the smile that began to cross her face, her chest swelling with pride. She knew Severus was commending her, though he was doing so quite furtively – and she appreciated his kind words.

After a few moments of silence, Hermione rose from the table, placing a few coins beside her drink. “I should be going.”

Anxious not to be seen with him for too long, she waved farewell to Severus, and abandoned her lover in the pub. As she walked through Hogsmeade, she kept her eye out for Harry and Ron, but the boys were nowhere to be found. Without company, she began the long walk back to Hogwarts.

A breeze swept the ground around her ankles, and Hermione felt a brief chill as the air touched her skin. The town was still very noisy with students milling about everywhere, but the further away she ventured, the heavier the silence grew. The rustling of the leaves and the crunch of the gravel beneath her shoes was the only sound until she arrived at the front doors of Hogwarts.

They opened as if she whispered some command, though she never said a word. Lifting her eyes, she peered through her bangs at the hall ahead of her. It was empty; most of the students and faculty were wandering the premises of Hogsmeade. Only the third years and younger were still at the school, but they were probably locked away in their common rooms.

Hermione began to head down the general direction of the dungeons. While she had no need to tend to her projects, she did want to record some notes for the report due at the end of the semester. Moving through the corridors quickly, Hermione’s heels clicked against the floor and the sound echoed against the walls.

As Hermione turned a corner, she nearly collided with someone. She stopped, startled by her company, her eyes only coming to his chest. She took a step back with a frantic “excuse me!” but as she looked up, she scowled.

“Malfoy,” she said sharply. “Why aren’t you at Hogsmeade?”

“Why is it any of your business?” he replied. “How is Snape these days?”

The question was so direct and forthright, Hermione nearly fell over in shock. Collecting herself, she looked up at Malfoy, her eyes narrowed. “As far as I know, he’s fine.”

“Is he, now?” Malfoy sneered, closing the gap between them.

As if in tune, Hermione took a step back to keep her distance from Malfoy. “I figured you of all people would know, seeing as you’re constantly sniveling under his feet,” she snapped, fisting her wand in her pocket.

Malfoy again closed the gap between Hermione’s body and his own, and by doing so forced her to back into the wall. He pinned her there with his hands against the wall, and leaning in to her, he breathed: “I saw the two of you in the Dark Forest. You seemed quite cozy there, your legs spread in the air like the filth you are.”

Hermione felt her face flush violently as she stared levelly into his cold gray eyes. By his expression, he was very pleased with himself, his lip curling in a malicious smirk.

“I don’t suppose Dumbledore knows how nice and close you’ve gotten with his dear Potions Master. If he did, I bet Snape would be out on his ass in Hogsmeade.” Malfoy leaned in closer to Hermione’s face, so close she could feel his breath as he spoke.

“You are insane, Malfoy. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione growled, pushing against him. Her heart was beginning to race as he closed the distance between them, her panic aroused by the familiarity of the situation.

He backed away from her for only a moment before he pinned her against the wall once more, his hands pressed against the cold stone. He leaned in to her, his mouth beside her ear.

His voice was a soft whisper, so quiet even she barely heard him. “I hear you like a forceful fuck, Mudblood.”

Hermione brandished her wand, holding it between their bodies. Her voice was low as she said to him, calmly: “Malfoy, you had best leave me be, or else you’ll wish you had never run into me.”

The Slytherin backed away from her, sneering. “What are you going to do?”

Scowling, Hermione lowered her wand. She turned from Malfoy and began to walk away from him. She knew she shouldn’t use magic against her classmates, even when it was warranted – and what was worse, she knew, was that if she used magic against a Slytherin student, it would place Severus in a very awkward position, and she didn’t want to force that upon him.

He grabbed hold of her wrist, wrenching her around to face him. Suddenly, she felt suffocated by panic and without thinking, she held her wand to his face and cried: “Petrificus totalus!”

Malfoy’s arms snapped to his side, his body planked and stiff as a board. He crashed, face first, to the ground. Hermione turned on her heel and began a quick pace to the dungeons. For a brief moment, she had thought Malfoy was actually going to – but no, that was ludicrous. He may be a loathsome cockroach, but that did not mean he would stoop so low as to…

Rubbing roughly at her eyes, she was overcome with dread. Even as a relatively harmless curse (and she was grateful it was the first to enter her mind; in those brief seconds between his grabbing her and her cursing him, she had considered something a great deal more violent), she still brandished magic against a classmate, and Severus would be furious. Breathing in deeply, she tried to gather her composure before entering the classroom.

She pushed open the door to Severus’ dungeons and looked about cautiously. “Professor?”

Her voice echoed through the empty classroom and Hermione took a quiet step inside the door. Letting the dungeon door close, she moved towards his office door, hoping he was inside. Leaning against the door, it opened slowly, and she stepped inside.

The office was empty, though because the wards were not set, she suspected he could not be far. She lowered herself into the uncomfortable chair in the corner, her hands resting in her lap, nervously picking at her nails. She couldn’t fathom why Malfoy had confronted her like that, but the thought made her ill at ease. What did he really know?

When Severus entered his office, he was not expecting to find Hermione. He had returned to Hogwarts shortly after his drink with his lover, and after returning to his classroom he thought to check on the younger students who had not gone to Hogsmeade. He was surprised when he returned to his office to find it occupied.

“Hermione?” he said softly, closing the door behind him. There was something disconcerting about her demeanor.

Lifting her face to stare at him, she said softly, “Severus. I’m sorry.”

He lowered himself to his knee beside her, his eyebrows furrowed in his concern. Touching her hand, he did not miss the subtle trembling of her entire body. He rested his hand against her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and waiting for her to continue.

“I cursed Malfoy – Draco,” she said finally, staring into his ebony eyes. “I think he knows, Severus. I think he knows about everything. I ran into him after I left Hogsmeade,” her voice started to falter as she spoke, and she took a deep breath. “He told me he saw us in the forest. And… he said… he said he heard I liked a ‘forceful fuck.’”

Her hands were shaking, and as Severus looked at her, he was overcome with a mixture of anger and confusion. He suddenly knew how Lucius had learned of their relationship, but he couldn’t understand what had brought Draco into the forest that evening in the first place.

“I started to panic, Severus. He wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes to her lap. “I’m sorry, I know it puts you in a really bad place,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t…”

He cupped her face tenderly. She looked up at him, her eyes wet, and he knew that whatever he had done to her, he had deserved whatever she retaliated with. He was overcome with a sense of anger as he imagined Malfoy laying a hand on her, but he willed it away.

“My concern is not that you cursed one of my students, Hermione,” Severus said, his voice even. “What interests me is the course of events. I hardly believe this is at all coincidental.” He stood from Hermione to pace before her. His hands were folded behind his back, his strides long, intimidating. “It seems as though, for some reason, the Malfoys have a peaked interest in our relationship. How they have any grounds for suspicion is beyond me. What brought Draco into the forest that afternoon?”

Severus paused to look at her. She watched him closely, reading him – she knew he was still sorting out the possibilities in his mind, though he did not seem to have reached a conclusion as of yet.

Severus sighed. “I have an aching suspicion that it does not bode well for either of us.”

He lowered himself into his chair, his shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his desk, drumming his fingers against the wood. They sat in silence for a long while, Hermione watching him as his mind whirred. She knew neither the conclusions he was drawing, nor what their implications.

After some time, Hermione shifted her body in her chair, the old rickety chair groaning under her weight. The dinner bells sounded, and Severus looked at Hermione, but she appeared to lack any interest in leaving.

“Don’t you think that your friends will wonder where you are for dinner?” he asked her quietly.

She shook her head. “They’ve known me for so long now that it wouldn’t surprise either of them if I forsook eating for work. I highly doubt they’d question it at all.”

Severus nodded slowly. “May I offer you a small meal in my quarters, then, Hermione?”

Hermione looked at Severus, a small smile slowly crossing her features. “Even now?”

“Why on Earth should I allow that arrogant family to interrupt my activities? It would be, after all, granting them exactly what they want,” Severus replied, standing slowly from his chair.

Hermione stood as well, nodding. “I think I should like a meal with you, Severus.”
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Matters of the Heart