Snape sat up as Hermione walked into the classroom, looking as if she were in a dream. “Not a dream,” Snape thought, “a nightmare...”
He had noticed a peculiar thing. Ever since his discovery of his love for Hermione, that little voice in his head had disappeared. It was almost as if it had decided she would keep him sane. Snape sighed, covering his face with his hands and raking his fingers through his greasy hair. He doubted he could wait the entire hour to give her the counter-potion; but since he had to kiss her, and since teacher-student relationships were against school policy, he would have to wait until class was over, and he and Hermione could be alone. To keep himself from embracing insanity (he was not a patient man) he mulled over different ways he could express his love to Hermione.
“Hermione, I know you won’t believe this, but...no. Hermione, I love you... no... Hermione -”
By the end of the hour, Snape had concocted and dismissed every possible word usage that could articulate his undying love for her.
“Hermione? Neville? Could you come to my desk?” Snape said softly.
They both approached, Neville shaking with fear (and looking slightly perturbed that Snape had asked him to do something, instead of barking at him, like usual) and Hermione, beaming at Neville for being “so brave”.
“Y-yes S-sir”, Neville stammered, almost in tears. Snape, a man not easily fooled, perceived Neville’s fright and recognized it for more than it was. Neville knew about the potion...
“Neville, I need you to tell Hermione to drink this.” Snape said, handing him the vial of the counter-potion. At hearing her name, Hermione looked up at Snape, that confused look gracing her eyes, yet again. Neville, on the other hand, looked as dumb-witted as ever. Snape observed this, too and, deciding that Neville was still the dull twit he always was, elaborated as if he were a mother teaching her toddler how to color.
“Hermione has taken a love potion by accident. You, being the first one she came in contact with, are the one she... “fell in love with”. Since that is the case, she will do whatever you wish. I pray that you have not already taken advantage of this... inconvenience.”
Neville shook his head, blushing furiously and handed the vial to Hermione. “Drink this, Hermione...” he said quietly, before fleeing to the common room, away from the glare of his potions master.
Hermione looked up at Snape, her mind torn apart in confusion. She longed to follow Neville, comfort him, but as she looked into Snape’s eyes, she could feel them boring into her, gluing her to the spot. And his voice...it was like velvet, yet subtle enough to be a taste of chocolate. A taste that made you feel as if you could never get enough. A richness that could intrigue you, then drive you to the brink of insanity with its appeal.
Oh, but Neville must be very upset. What had he told her? Drink this...
“Well,” Hermione thought, “anything to make him happy...”
She swallowed the potion and felt its contents trickle down her throat, burning all in its path. She felt as if her insides were on fire and, suddenly, it all turned ice-cold. She dropped the vial and opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out and, as Snape stood up, then walked towards her, she could hear his breath quicken. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, pulling her close to him. Hermione winced as she saw him close his eyes, his lips coming closer. She could smell him; she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin...his lips pressed against hers and-
Snape pulled back (too soon in his opinion) and looked at Hermione. She blinked and her expression of confusion vanished.
“Severus?” she croaked, rubbing her throat, “What happened, I - why does my throat burn?”
Snape watched her expressions change as the memories flickered before her eyes. Disgust at flirting with Neville, comprehension as to why Snape’s voice had confused her, embarrassment at the promises that she had whispered in Neville’s ear. Snape perceived all this until she gazed up at him, her face a mixture of numerous emotions.
“Yes, Hermione,” he whispered softly, “I did kiss you. The potion required a kiss from someone - from someone who truly loves you.”
Snape shrank back as tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes. He longed to comfort her, but he had no idea what to do. He found himself holding his breath, desperate for just one more embrace.
Suddenly, Hermione was in his arms, her tears gracing his cheek. “I knew it,” she whispered, laughing and crying at the same time. He had never felt so happy in all his life. So content...
At that moment, Dumbledore walked in and Hermione pulled away from Snape, leaving only a cold draft where her body had warmed him. His face was still wet where her tears had been...and his.
“Hermione,” Dumbledore said, “would you please step outside with me. There is a matter of utmost importance I must discuss with you.”
Hermione followed him, stricken with the face of a person who was about to face their doom, yet she also carried a hint of elation. As soon as the door shut, Dumbledore turned to her.
“Do not cry, my dear,” he said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping her tears. “I have only come to tell you that Myrtle, the ghost who dwells in the bathroom, has given you a love potion. Fortunately, Professor Snape has already taken care of it.”
Dumbledore’s expression was one of secretive understanding.
Hermione looked up at him, fresh tears falling from her eyes. His expression melted from formal to one of pain and sympathy. “I don’t think,” he said sadly, “that I have to remind you of school policy. Ah, Miss Granger, I know you and Severus love each other, but -”
Hermione nodded. “I understand. Please, excuse me...” she said before walking in the direction of her dormitory.
Snape looked up as Dumbledore entered the room again. “Severus...” Dumbledore began, but stopped when Snape shook his head. He watched as Snape sank into his chair, covering his face with his hands. After a few moments, Snape stood up and looked a Dumbledore, his face a mask of indifference. Dumbledore was aware of the facade, though. He could see the pain behind Snape’s eyes.
“So you’re not made of steel”, Dumbledore chuckled, “Harry and Ron told me what happened. My, my Snape, I am surprised at you. Bonding with students...you’ll make a fine headmaster one day.” With that, Dumbledore left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Snape opened the door to Hermione’s room as quietly as possible. He stuck his head in, making sure she was asleep. He needed to see her to do this. As he pulled up a chair and sat down, gazing at her, his mind cleared...
Hermione woke up to the sun shining. She stretched her legs, yawning, and looked around her room. Someone had brought her (or conjured up) about 20 dozen roses, and had placed them, strategically, throughout her room. Her bathtub was filled with steaming water and rose petals. “Severus...” she thought, remembering the past night’s events. As she sank, gratefully, into the bathtub she found a dish floating on the surface of the water. On it was a piece of parchment. As Hermione read its contents, she burst into tears of joy.
In certain time, I knew that you
would steal my heart from me.
True love is not love at first sight.
In love, you may not be.
All I have to prove to you
that my love is sincere...
Are trails of salt from my eyes
what’s left of a drying tear.
In your eyes I see the depth
of all that I adore.
And somehow, now the stars shine ever
brighter than before.
But when your eyes met mine
and in your eyes beheld
that which I have felt so long
and in my soul, withheld.
With you here my soul is not
lost in deprivation.
My world does not dwell in lies
or formal recitation.
At present time our love will be
shrouded from all view.
But know that I will always wait
in patient love for you...
Love,
Severus