Many things had changed for Hermione Granger. During the year after Harry left, she became an assistant to Severus Snape, learning what it would take to be a Potions mistress herself. For a year she toiled, taught, studied, worked, brewed, and found herself unbelievably content where she was, a place where she could be void of all emotion. Severus Snape had become extremely accommodating in her year as an assistant. His cold nature seemed less cold when he worked around her. It wasn’t like working with her former Potions professor; it was as if he were someone completely different. It wasn’t at all like the days when she was a student. As a matter of fact, she had always thought he despised her as a student, but she learned to think better of that. Snape constantly told her how brilliant she was, and how he always knew she would achieve her goals.
Many times she caught him staring at her while she worked; he insisted he was amazed at her ability and dedication. For a while this made her uncomfortable, but she grew to enjoy his attention. She worked harder not only to become a good teacher but she felt that maybe something inside her was trying impress him as well. Sometimes he would dote on her if she was particularly clever and she certainly didn't mind. All his tokens and gifts were graciously accepted. He gave her a magnificent necklace with a charm that changed color according to one’s mood. No matter how much she loved it, she couldn’t take off Harry’s necklace; the ruby sphere remained on her throat. He asked her about it once.
“Why do you always wear that silly charm? It’s always on your throat,” he noted, running his hands over it, grazing her neck slightly.
“It was a present from Harry before he left,” she murmured, her heart falling at the memory.
“Silly girl,” he spat, “he isn’t returning. You know that!” His tone softened as if he had realized his anger. “Your place is here now, with me, at Hogwarts.”
He had dismissed her early that day. The next morning when Hermione arrived in the dungeons, her cauldron was overturned, her potion splattered all over the floor. She looked at it sadly; Snape entered the room and cleaned it up, and apologized for knocking it over. He claimed it was purely an accident, but Hermione didn’t think so. After that she started tucking the ruby charm under her shirt so that Snape would not see it. After a while, things returned to normal. For the rest of the year, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape worked side by side. She grew to appreciate all that he had done, all he sacrificed to help her. The way he looked at her, it gave her a feeling of being appreciated. Something she had never felt in her life. When he would touch her hand, her shoulder, or brush hair out of her eyes, her skin prickled. No one had cared for Hermione Granger in such a manner, even though she was much changed from the girl she used to be. Severus Snape seemed to be the only one who had noticed.
When the time came, he did everything in his power to make sure she secured a job at Hogwarts. As a matter of fact, strange things happened that made Hermione uncomfortable. A few applicants to the General Potions teaching position had unexpectedly become seriously ill and one had even died. He was old for a half-blood, Hermione told herself, but it still seemed out of place. She had a hard time believing he had just died, it couldn’t be just a coincidence, but she couldn’t prove anything so the matter lay at rest.
She got the job, nonetheless, and she would teach the General Potions classes and Severus would teach Potions for those preparing to take O.W.L.’s and the N.E.W.T. level classes. Every week, they would meet to discuss lessons and plans for the students. They saw each other less and less, only during that one day a week, and during meals, but Severus Snape hardly ate with the staff if he could help it.
Sometimes that one afternoon a week would go far longer into the night and they would share dinner. The topic usually got far diverted from Potions. They spoke about wizarding politics, the decreasing number of wizards, the dragon hunting laws, and the new Minister of Magic. They never spoke of the past; there was no reminiscing between the two. They both preferred it that way, Hermione’s past was too dark, and Snape’s was too empty. They would walk back from Hogsmeade in the dark, his cloak over her shoulders, keeping her safe in its warmth. Hermione knew he would do anything for her, if she just said the word. As much as she wanted to tell him what he made her feel, she never did but just enjoyed the moments they shared. The silent passion both of them felt around each other was enough for now, especially for Hermione, who had never felt such a feeling before.
The thing that Hermione didn’t understand was that this isn’t what she had felt for Harry. She was very pleased that Snape cared for her, and she felt sparks when they touched. Sure, he wasn’t handsome, but there was a dark attraction in the way his mannerisms and the way he spoke. She could talk to him seriously about anything. The feeling wasn’t the same innocent love she had felt for Harry, though; this seemed darker, more exotic. She wasn’t sure how to deal with her new emotions; she liked them and feared them at the same time. She wasn’t the little girl she used to be by any stretch. Then again she didn’t feel prepared for this dark lust that plagued her mind.
It did haunt her, her dreams were filled with strange thoughts, and he was always there. It was as if Snape had found the key to her mind, he was always with her. All her dreams were of him, she couldn’t clear her mind, and it was as if she were under a spell. She had no escape; she had no one to turn to. Ron would never speak to her again, and Ginny she hadn’t spoken to in ages. She didn’t really have to talk to anyone to know what her problem was, though. Harry was the problem, she couldn’t love Snape, and that was all Harry’s fault.
The years went by. Hermione was drawn to a man she couldn’t care for; Snape was trying to ensnare a young woman who wouldn’t give up her past. Both lived in silent frustration together. Yet, there was still the passion that refused to die, that passion between two lonely people who desperately want to be together but are held back by that unseen force. It was a game they played, a web they weaved, for three long years they played and weaved, and found it all to be for nothing.