Unlikely Connections

"The normal chatter of sideline conversations and clangor of classroom activity had halted and waited, with an audible intake of breath, for the response to this heretofore unheard of phenomenon – Hermione Granger had insulted a teacher."

Ever wonder what Hermione in a detention would be like? “Miss Granger,” Snape growled, not raising his eyes from the unlucky parchment he was marking with a large red 30%, “I did not assign this detention merely for you to take a constitutional around my office, wasting my time and trespassing on my goodwill.” Snorting at the mention of ‘good will,’ she mumbled, “Yes, sir,” and dropped her potions kit on the floor beside the couch, now ready to begin her tasks.

She clawed at her hair with both hands, hoping the tug on her scalp would clear her head. What in the world would possess her to kiss anyone, let alone SNAPE? She racked her brain, but could find no clear explanation, aside from the idea that she had been struck by an absolutely unforgivable fit of momentary stupidity.

Harry chuckled, but chided Ron. “I hardly think that your beating the knickers off Snape will do any good for Hermione.”

In one smooth and startlingly quick movement, he grasped both of her wrists in one hand and pinioned them to the wall above her head. Her heart was racing in her chest. She fought to keep her mind from clouding over with desire tainted with fear. She fought to think clearly.

"And then it hit her. Her face lit up. She knew exactly how to figure out why her feelings for Snape were so confusing. It all rested on a basis of comparison. Though she couldn’t really believe she was about to say it, she cleared her throat and spoke. “You can help, Harry. And I’ve just thought of how.”

And with that firmly resolved in his mind, he settled himself down, his long lean body stretched across the leather couch where she had sat only days ago trying to make conversation about his art. In the relative silence of the office, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth, Severus closed his eyes and allowed himself to consider the one thing that had been permeating his thoughts and haunting his dreams for the last week: making love to Hermione Granger.

“You know,” she sputtered, all sense of protocol leaving her, “it’s no wonder that people speculate that you’re a vampire or a bat. You just skulk around the school and then appear out of th--”

'I think I’ll just let him stew on that for a bit before I let him off the hook,' Hermione thought happily. After all, she had no intent of really teasing him in any way, shape or form, as she was quite sure he’d have some type of ghastly punishment awaiting her should she choose to do so.

Much as it displeased her to do so, Hermione had to admit it … she was nervous. She was borderline petrified, in fact, of walking into Potions today. Oddly enough, however, it wasn’t exactly the obvious situation that petrified her. What scared her was the actuality of meeting face to face with the man, now that he was aware of her body, mind and hormones. She was quite certain that despite the fact that he had initiated the situation that she would pay dearly for participating in it.

He saw quite rapidly that apparently it was worth risking detention to spread the tale to the entirety of the class. No doubt the entire school would know by nightfall. He steepled his hands and rested his head in them. This was going to be hideous.

Ron worded their thoughts. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

Lucius waved his hands and Crabbe and Goyle, who had obviously been his previous captors, raised him from the floor. When he was as upright as possible, Lucius’s hand slashed across his face. Severus felt a stinging trail of blood leak from a slice in his cheek caused by the ring on Lucius’s pinky.

. At a loss for what else to do, she decided to question further. “There must be something I can do … Shall I get you into pajamas or something?”

“What are you looking so amused for?”

“Oh, come on Hermione, wake up! You helped out with the Order; you know where he goes night after night! That man dances with death on a daily basis and he could bring about yours just as easily as his own! Did this never occur to you?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily and rose from his desk. He followed the younger man for a few moments in his circle of the office, but when Severus stopped in front of the fireplace, the older man laid gentle hands on his stooped shoulders. “Severus, I know this troubles you. And I know you feel that this is due to you … as a sort of penance. But I will not sacrifice your life.” After a beat of silence where Severus’s posture grew stiff beneath Dumbledore’s hands, Albus added, “No matter how much you may desire me to do so.”

He rushed away from her, his face suddenly alight with frustrated anger. “I try not to encourage this … I try …” He swore loudly, and in another bout of angry frustration, growled, “what do I have to do to get this hormone-driven lust out of your head?”

“What are you all doing here? I mean, I could see if one or two of the members of the staff were here in disguise to chaperone but …” she trailed off as she noticed how serious Lupin’s face had gone. “What’s wrong? What’s going to happen?”

“What happened to you, Hermione?” he asked quietly after a moment of silence. “What do you mean? I was out in the rain; I got sick ....” She trailed off at the sight of his incredulous stare. “Come on, M’inee,” he said, his voice hushed. “Hermione Granger doesn’t just go parading out into the rain in the freezing cold after a dance for a lark ...."

Harry took Snape’s silence as an affirmation of his willingness to listen, so he continued. “Hermione,” Harry started, and then gulped. Maybe if he said it all at once it would be easier. “Hermione’s been raped by Ron.” It most certainly was

These were the basics. A long, wet walk back to the castle … a heated argument against the cold stone that went horribly awry … choking … an act of sexual mishap … and then she walked out into the rain. But there were pieces missing. He knew there must be more to explain the silence, the guilt, and the haunted – no,

Hermione felt tears leaking from her eyes but did not brush them away. “I appreciate your understanding, Headmaster, and I hear what you are saying. But, sir, he has been a pillar for me. He was there for me not so long ago when even my friends turned away. He saved my life. And he is on a long, lonely journey that could bring about his death. I owe it to him to make sure he is not marching to his death alone. I care too much.”

“I can’t, Miss Granger. We can’t … I can’t … we can’t do this any more. It is too dangerous and it is foolhardy to the extreme. There is far too much at stake to be carrying on in this manner.”

“Forgive me for an old Muggle saying,” Albus continued, “but ‘it takes two to tango.’ I do not recall your resistance in the hospital wing. Miss Granger is already a target of the Dark Lord due to her relationship with Harry; any activity pointing towards romance makes her even more so. I expected you to realize the danger of the game you are playing with her.”

He always softened for Hermione. His only warmth, these days, surfaced for Hermione: a delicate hand at the small of her back working her path through a crowd of staring whisperers, a warmer smile after a near avoidance of breakdown in a class or at a meal in the Great Hall. Harry’s eyes were velvet when he looked at her, and for him only, she found herself venturing genuine smiles. Harry stood, as stone, and allowed her to break upon him, rough water, eroding away the tougher shell if only for a moment. And she broke upon him, and was staid.