Probable Reaction

Chapter One

"Dolente, il signore." Hermione's Italian was still very weak, but she hoped that she had just said she was sorry. She really hadn't meant to tread on that man's toe. By the look on his face, she might have gotten it right. "Molti perdoni."

"Ciá bene il bambino." She had no idea what he said back, but she smiled and walked away, leaving the man behind in the throng.

She had just arrived in Venice two weeks ago, and while the language was a difficult part about being there, she found she never wanted to leave again. Who needed school when you could have the world at your fingertips?

The sights and sounds were, simply put, amazing. In all of the reading she had done on the town, she had never once expected herself to be so enthralled in everything around her. From the Gondola rides to seeing the Basilica of St. Marks, she could remember nothing about life before Italy.

And her trip had gotten even better about a week ago. Her grandmother, the elderly woman who was supposed to be housing her while she was there, had made plans in advance to travel abroad with her friends. She couldn't cancel, but she couldn't leave her niece alone either. In the end, however, she decided to trust Hermione, who had gratefully accepted and was now completely alone in the city. Every day she expected her parents to come and whisk her away from this paradise.

Her hotel, the Cavalletto e Doge Orseolo, was overlooking the Bacino Orseolo and was close to the Piazza San Marcco. She was in an ideal spot in the most wonderful place in the worl. Nothing could dampen her spirits, not even the black rain clouds that hung heavily over her head. Soon enough the streets would be damp and most tourists would seek indoor attractions.

But she loved Venice when it rained almost as much as the sunny, bright days that happened so often. The streets, normally brimming with crowds of gawking picture-taking people, would open to a new world. Shop owners smiled and offered the 'la bella ragazza', or pretty girl, a flower or colorful pastry as she browsed their tiny stands. Children danced and sang out in the streets in puddles happily, though they could have just done the same by the canal channels.

"Miss, do you have the time?" A voice, in English this time, came from her right. It was distinctly American and she looked quickly down at her watch. It had been a gift from her grandmother right before she had left on her trip, and was of a very fine gold.

"Four-twenty."

"Grazie." The person's Italian accent was much worse than Hermione's and she chuckled. So I don't stick out as much as I thought I did.

A raindrop, big and round, landed on her nose and she grinned. An elderly couple next to her started panicking and put up an umbrella very quickly. A large group started running toward the direction of a merchant's stall. She only stood there watching them dash about like frantic mice, her hair now thick and damp. She didn't mind. It almost looked nice when it was slicked back. It straightened out and wasn't quite as frizzy.

Once the piazza was empty, save for herself and a few people who truly belonged in the streets, she waltzed over to a pasticceria, opening her money pouch and pulling out a few lira. The owner, a heavyset man with a fuzzy mustache, almost like some kind of tiny animal, smiled at her when she walked in. He didn't seem to care that she was soaked to the bone and dripping on his floor.

"Un signore di pagnotta." He quickly got the loaf of bread she had asked for and wrapped it in a thin paper. All of the pastry makers used that paper. She liked it. After she gave him the money, and a happy smile, she slipped it in her pocket and started back toward the hotel. There was no use staying out too long in this weather, no matter how much she liked it. She might catch a cold.

She had quite a walk ahead of her, and should not have come out to the piazza on a day when it might have rained, but she didn't care. It was calm and relaxing out on the streets and twisted alleyways of Venice, the rain beating softly on the ground the only sound.

After a few blocks she found that she couldn't wait to be back in her room to eat and quickly took out the bread. She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, long past, which had consisted of the same things in her hand now. She had a terrible love of this bread and would simply kill herself if she didn't eat it everyday. Another reason not to go back home.

Hermione nibbled on the end of it and watched a tourist group rush past her. Some of them had rain coats over their heads as they ran. Others had umbrellas. But one, a man in a dark leather jacket, just walked slowly along, just like she was, not a care in the world. This man made her stop and nearly drop her lunch to the ground.

Why was he here? Of all the people she had ever expected to see in Venice, he wasn't one of them. She didn't think he ever actually left the confines of Hogwarts's halls. But then again her eyes might be playing tricks on her now. It couldn't be him, could it?

"Professor Snape?" she called out, half expecting no one to turn around. She actually dropped the pastry when the man she was watching did indeed spin to face her. "Good to see you sir." He stared at her as if she had five arms growing from her head and was completely purple. She stared back with a small smile and, after what seemed to be forever with the chilled, falling rain around them, she waved.

"Miss... Miss Granger?" He stammered everything as if English was not his native tounge and he had never heard her name before. She nodded and picked up her bread from the ground. She would feed it to some pigeons later, when she found some. If she left it there, the vile rats would take it. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you, I believe. Just looking at the sights of great Venice." Hermione smiled sweetly. And in a heartbeat, he had closed the gap that separated them and took her wrist in his hand. Twisting it, he looked deep into her eyes.

"Are you alone?" His voice at school, normally cool and smooth, silky and sophisticated, able to hide all of his darkest secrets, was nothing like it was now. He rushed through every sentence and pronounced ever word sharply. It frightened her how intensely his black eyes bore into her mind.

"Why do you want to know?" She knew she shouldn't make jokes in such a position, and to a teacher none the less, but she couldn't help herself. Something inside of her that definitely would never have showed itself at school just came over her. "Did you want to hook up?"

He didn't smile.

"This, Miss Granger, is no time to be cheeky with me. I want a straight answer from you and I want one now." His voice had regained some of its coolness, but it was still not how she remembered. "Are. You. Alone?"

"Yes, Professor, I am." She wiggled her wrist out of his grasp and put a hand on her hip. The other tucked a strand of her drenched hair behind her ear. He opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first. "And can I call you Severus?"

***

He blinked hard. Clearly that was not what he had been expecting out of her mouth. Here was one of his top students, standing in the middle of a wet street in Venice, asking to call him by his first name. Something strange had come over Hermione in the weeks since school ended.

"Miss Granger, we have much more important things on our hands than my name. Now let's go somewhere and talk." He made a grab for her wrist again, but she jumped back, her face twisted into a grin much like the ones he had too often seen on the Weasley twins when they had been at school. Had she been taking lessons from them?

"Touch me again and I will call out for a Carabiniere. It may be raining, but they will still come if they suspect a child snatcher." She smirked at him and nodded her head at a building across the way. "There. We can talk there."

It was a dark, dark day when Hermione became so cocky. Something had happened. Something wasn't right.

"You do seem to know your way around the piazza." The building she had pointed to hadn't been marked with a sign, as most of the restaurants or cafés were.

"I've been here long enough to know where things are, Severus." Hermione smiled wickedly at him, accenting he last word, just to make sure he caught it. He did. A scowl was what she got back.

As they walked, the raindrops splashed against the pavement under their feet as thickly as his thoughts were running. Why was she here? The better question was, why was she here ALONE?

He was only supposed to be there for a short time, getting some supplies to restock his potions stores and visiting an old friend, William, that he had gone to school with. Severus had not, in any recess of his mind, thought he would meet anyone he knew, except for old Will, let alone one of his students. And a student with a heavy weight over her head at that.

With her connections to the famous Harry Potter, Hermione Granger was a very wanted witch. Many of the Death Eaters would be rewarded as highly for her capture as they would for the downfall of Harry himself. And here she was, traipsing across Italy by herself.

"Have you been to the Basilica? Oh, it's beautiful! The golden lions with their beautiful wings that glitter in the sun! Did you know that..." He didn't bother listening to her jabbering about a place he had seen countless times. He, too, loved the beauty that was the Basilica, though damned if he would tell this girl.

Once they were inside the restaurant, they chose a booth by a window overlooking the street. There wasn't much of a view, as it was raining and no one was outside, but if it had been sunny, people of all sorts would walk past. It could be fun just to sit and watch the many types of individuals that visited Venice walk past, never knowing that they were watched. Severus had done it many times.

"Now then. Let's have a perfectly civilized talk. Person to person. Eye to eye." He watched her absently stare out the window as he started giving his speech, very clearly not listening to a word he said. "What the HELL are you doing out there alone?"

She was, to say the least, noticeably shocked over his outburst. He smiled at himself. Not much could shake Hermione Granger.

"What, are you saying that I need a babysitter wherever I go?" He opened his mouth to argue, but she held up her hand. "I know about the, to put it loosely, bounty over my head, but I shouldn't have to have someone hover over me all the time! No one but my parents even knows I'm here."

It was his turn to be shocked. He had expected her to have run away at the very least! Now she says that they know! And approve! Muggles were far crazier than he had ever thought. But he gathered himself quickly and put on his 'I'm-Taking-House-Points-Away' grin. "I had not thought about a babysitter, but now that you mention it, that might be a fine idea."

She scowled, but said no more as a waitress came up. Hermione ordered a plain, herbal tea. Severus, a strong black coffee and some anti pasta. As soon as the girl had gone, however, Hermione started again.

"You can't do that! I am perfectly fine by myself, thank you very much." She played with her spoon as she spoke. "I haven't been pick-pocket yet, and that's saying something." Many of the children of the city would distract tourists by doing tricks while others working with them stole purses. Of course, Hermione would have been too smart for that. Even Severus saw that much intelligence in the girl.

"If, say, Lucius Malfoy came waltzing up the street, I think he would try to take more than your money bag."

Hermione watched him, calculating a good answer in her head. He had backed her into a corner and she would either try to barrel out or submit to his request of going home. "Weren't you friends with Mr. Malfoy at school?"

"Yes, but that is completely irrelevant to the conversation, Miss Granger." Severus smiled at the waitress as she came back with his food. He hadn't eaten anything all day and the artichokes looked good. Hermione sipped her tea irritably.

"Hermione. My name is Hermione." He rolled his eyes at her, clearly expressing that he didn't car. He would have said more, but he didn't want anything to fall from his mouth as he ate. "And I don't see why you will let Ron and Harry, the boy in the middle of this war, run about on another continent while I can't even visit Venice."

"Because Mr. Potter has the Weasleys looking over him there and you have no one."

"Ah."

They sat there, thinking about their own things, trying to mentally spar down the other. The rain outside, once a light shower, became suddenly heavier. Hermione stared outside with a frown.

"I'll strike a deal with you. How about you check in here, at the piazza, every other day at this time. Don't show up, I will hunt you down and take you home. Forcibly, if necessary." Hermione didn't like the tone of his voice, or the smile on his face. She did, however, like his idea.

"Better than having you tag along all over the place, I guess. It's alright, then."

"Good."

They sat there in silence until the waitress came to clear the table and bring the bill. Severus paid, just to be polite. He ignored Hermione's looks of protest at him doing something nice for her.

Severus could already tell that this was not going to be fun.

***

After meeting with Hermione every other day for two weeks, Severus finally decided that she could be trusted and could take care of herself here. Whenever she came by the piazza she always had a smug smile and photographs of the places she had seen the day before. But never any news of trouble.

He enjoyed listening to her and her stories about everything she had seen and everyone that she met, even though he had seen and done it all at least twice before. After he had gotten out of Hogwarts, he had come here with William and had stayed for five years, so he knew all of the sights.

This was the city where his first love had lived. This was the city where he first made love. This was the city where the first person he loved died in his arms. This was a city of memories.

Looking at the pictures and listening to her only brought back those memories that he had forgotten so long ago. After Cecilie's death, Severus had found life to be too horrible. He had given up hope and looked for a way to bring death ever closer, because he had been too afraid to kill himself. So he joined the Death Eaters, under Lucius's guidance, and found the rush of life that could only come from being with death.

But after awhile, and many thoughts of what he gave up to virtually die, he found it was not as exciting as it once had been. And, when he talked it over with his old Headmaster, Dumbledore one morning, he finally snapped. He wanted to come back and fight for the good side. He had become a teacher. Potions, just like his mother before him had taught. And he forgot, as best as he could, about why he hadn't wanted to live.

But as Severus sat there sullenly, watching a group of pigeons pecking at the ground a few feet away from the table he was outside at, he couldn't say what he had been planning on. He couldn't say that he was leaving. Over the past few days, he had enjoyed her company. Hermione was a brilliant young woman, her intelligence rivaling his own, though being wasted in the field of Arithmancy, and they shared quite a few conversations that were very memorable. Their last discussion, about what the greatest painting hanging in the Galleria dell' Accademia was, had become quite heated and even attracted quite a few tourists.

"I am planning on taking a Gondola ride around the Canale di San Marco tomorrow. I have heard that it is quite a beautiful trip. Have you ever gone?" Her voice brought him back into reality. The birds were gone, and a group of tourists was passing through the spot they had been. There were too many people who didn't belong in this city. "You seem to have done everything there is to do."

"No, I haven't, but I always planned to." He watched her bend down to put her pictures into a pocket of her satchel and sighed. "Miss Granger, I'm leaving tomorrow night for Hogwarts. There is no use staying here if you can hold your own, as you have apparently done."

She gaped at him for a minute, clearly forgetting what she had been doing. The pictures still in her hands slipped to the floor, and she hastily picked them up, cheeks flushed. "Leaving? Now?"

They sat in silence for a minute, neither of them having anything to say. Severus hated the look on her face. It reminded him of Cecilie. She had looked like that, with her sweet mouth turned into a tight frown the night he had announced he had to leave for an assignment with work in the morning and wouldn't be back for weeks. Eventually, she had convinced him to stay, though that decision eventually killed her.

"I was only supposed to be here about a week or two, not three." He said, playing with his coffee cup. She nodded, then bit her lip. He had noticed that she played with her lips often.

"Come out with me tonight to a club, Severus." Her face was very serious, but he couldn't help but to laugh. She blushed again and busied herself with her satchel. "Please?"

"Why on Earth, Miss Granger, would you want me to go dancing with you? I am quite sure that you could 'pick up' more attractive Italian boys if you weren't toting your forty-year-old teacher around."

"I don't know why. It just seems like I should. You seem all right when you aren't in your billowing robes and your voice isn't so intimidating." She explained all this as if confessing to murder. Severus couldn't help but choke back a laugh into his napkin. She enjoys having me around as much as I enjoy being here...

"My voice is intimidating? I never knew that..." He thought as he watched her. She was smiling weakly, much like the Hermione he knew from classes. Nothing like the devil child from a few weeks ago. "Only if you tell me why you were acting so differently when we first met here."

She grinned and pulled a fountain pen from the bun in her hair. Some strands of it fell out in a waterfall of murky brown silk, but she didn't seem to mind. She scratched something down on one of the napkins on the table. "Here are the directions to the club. Be there at nine. I'll be waiting for you."

As she pushed it toward him, he couldn't help but think about what he was doing. Being a set of watching eyes and a listening ear to her is one thing. Dancing is another. We might, for some reason, get close, and everyone I have ever gotten close to has died...

"Miss Granger, you never gave me an answer."

She smiled, shoved the pen back into her hair and stood up. "I'll tell you when you get to the club." And with that, she walked away, leaving him shaking his head and grinning.

***

As Hermione walked along the street that led to her hotel, she couldn't help but to laugh and twirl her skirt around. She would have company tonight! It got lonely, spending day after day in Venice without another soul to talk to at night. At least she got the chance to see Severus once and awhile.

That was really one of the reasons she had kept up her end of the bargain. Someone to talk to. She was quite sure that he couldn't have found her in this city, not with its thousands of nooks, crannies, and alleys that lead in every direction. She could have easily stayed away from him, if she had chosen to. But that would have been even lonelier than her present situation, so she had been fine with the deal.

But it would have been better if it hadn't been Snape that she ran into. Any student, or even other teacher for that matter, would have certainly been better. Everyone knew that the Potions teacher was a bitter man who lived to take happiness away from everyone who wasn't a member of Slytherin. But he had changed this summer, it seemed. As had she.

Not physically, of course. She suspected she would always have the same unmanageable hair and too-large brown eyes. No, she had changed mentally. She was much more open with her feelings and more in touch with herself. She would probably fade back to being just a studious bookworm again when school started, but she wanted to treasure every moment of this newfound freedom that she could. This trip truly had been good for her, despite what her parents had first thought.

"Scusilo mancanza, ma avete un ospite." Hermione was startled to hear the voice of Victor, the hotel front clerk. She had let her feet carry her the whole way. What he said, she didn't know, but she nodded and started up the stairs. Victor knew she spoke English, but still spoke Italian just to tease her. Later, after she was done getting ready for that night, she would look it up in her translation book, just to show him that she could understand.

With her key in her lock, the door swung open and she blinked a few times in confusion. This was her room; wasn't it? Someone very blond and very tan was lying on the bed, flipping absently through a book of Italian terms. When he saw her, he smirked. All she could do was groan.

Draco Malfoy had decided to pay her a visit.

"Um, Malfoy?" He nodded his head and she sucked on her bottom lip. She was flustered, and very surprised, but would try to keep things under control. "Why are you here?"

"Your hotel clerk sent me up. Nice person, Victor, when you wave enough of this Muggle money under his nose." He pointed to her dresser, which now had the contents of Draco's pocket scattered about it. A few lira and some breath mints. A tiny bit of lint.

"No, I mean in Venice. I thought you were in Egypt for the summer!" She blushed when she realized that she had blurted that out. Everyone knew that he had been going, after he nearly stood up and made an official announcement at breakfast on their last day of school, but it almost sounded as if she cared why he was now in Italy. Stupid prat.

"Oh, it gets boring after awhile. Too much sand. Got in my eyes all the time and my hair just wouldn't do a thing." He looked genuinely sad, and Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Her hair never did anything at any time. "So, how are things here in Italy?"

"Why are you here? You can't just have got up this morning and said 'Let's track down Hermione today' and hopped on a plane."

"No, the thought process was more along the lines of 'Let's track down the filthy Mudblood and throw her into a canal today', silly." He lazily rolled over so that he was staring up at the ceiling. "And what's a plane?"

"Never mind. I have something to do, so I would really appreciate it if you would get out of my hotel room. And never talk to me again." She stormed over to her trunk and flipped it open. "Thanks again for visiting."

Draco laughed, though he made no sign of getting up and out the door. But she didn't have time for him now. She had less than an hour to get ready and walk to the club before nine. Grabbing the first dress that she found, she dashed off to the bathroom.

Even as she changed, Hermione could still feel that Draco was in the hotel room. He let off a certain vibe that just screamed 'I'm twit, I'm a git, get used to it!' that made her feel like she was going to vomit. She still didn't know why, of all the people in the world, he had decided to come and bother her, but she wouldn't let it get to her too much...

"Do you have anything to eat, Granger?" She was just trying to get the zipper of the dress done up when his voice came through the door. Biting her tounge, she got a strand of unruly hair caught up in the teeth. Her squeal of pain must have been loud, because in the next moment, Draco was poking his head around the door cautiously. Thankfully she was fully clothed, but he still received a slap in the face.

"You don't ever look in on a lady when she is getting ready for a date, Draco Malfoy."

That sentence was her undoing. Not only had she called him by his whole name, something she hadn't done before and not mean it sarcastically, but she had also called Severus her date. Draco grinned and raised his eyebrows. "A date, huh? With who, Granger? Is Potty in town too, or are you just stuck with the Weasel?"

"It is none of your business. Now get out of my room before your other cheek gets a handprint to match." This threatening speech was delivered as she attempted to put her hair up in a French Twist. He shrugged and stepped all the way into the room, closing the door behind him.

***

"Come on, Granger, you can tell me. I won't spread dirty rumors about you around school." Draco tried to make the last sentence as serious as he could, but it came out extremely sarcastically, like all of his other comments he ever made. She scowled, and continued trying to do whatever it was she was trying with her hair. It was a horrible attempt.

She said nothing, not even a remark to spar with his, and he leaned back against the door watching her. In all the time that he had ever known Hermione Granger there was only one time she had tried to tame her hair. In all reality, it almost made her look halfway decent with it in some type of fancy knot.

"You are doing it all wrong, you know. I think my mother used to do this to her hair." Hermione wrinkled her nose at him and continued on. Draco sighed and grabbed her hands. "Here, let me help."

Guiding her with his own hands, he made her take one strand of hair, then the other and formed them into something that looked nearly right. She was staring at him in utmost horror, but he didn't stop. He only stepped all the way behind her, to get a better angle, and continued.

He worked with her for a few minutes, twisting into more and more elaborate designs while trying hard not to breath in. She smelled of lavender and vanilla, and it was starting to get to him. His mother had always had the house elves wash the sheets in lavender, and it reminded him of home. Which I have been forced out of for the summer!

"There, is that better Mudblood?" He took a step back and admired his work. Her hair, once a nest of brambles dipped in mud, now looked very sophisticated. And the dress that she was wearing, a high cut black strapless, only made her look even better. He then proceeded to mentally kick himself. Filthy beaver. Stop admiring...

"I never thought I would say this, Malfoy," she said, turning to him. Her eyes, now that they weren't hidden behind her hair, were kind of beautiful, actually. "But you are even more of a pansy than I could have ever thought. Doing my hair, honestly..."

"You're welcome, Granger." He smirked at her, in his patented look that made most women faint. Hermione raised her eyebrows, but it didn't look like she was going to collapse anytime in the near future. "Now, once again, do you have anything to eat?"

"What time is it?" She had taken a step toward the door, but Draco grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.

"Food. Hunger. Need nourishment, not your questions about time!"

"What is with people grabbing my wrists and being so damn cocky?" She muttered, and he frowned. Who else had grabbed her wrist? "Oh, but of course you wouldn't... Goodness, is that the time?"

She had had looked at her watch, and had instantly begun to panic. Hermione dashed out of the bathroom, grabbed her purse from a chair and left without saying goodbye. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand said that it was five to nine. Draco jumped back onto her bed, picked up the book again, and sighed.

"I'll just wait here then!"

***