Someday

Someday

by Lucius Mercurius Aurelius

The classroom was quiet. The students were working on their assignments, and Severus Snape was walking through the class. Sometimes he stopped here and there, taking a closer look at a student's work, often accompanied with his trademark sneer. When he came to stand near Hermione to inspect her work, he moved a bit closer even, as close as he dared. He bowed forward a bit, and slightly let a part of his stomach brush with her back, breathing in a bit of the scent of her hair as he did so. She didn't seem to mind. He softly placed one of his hands near her on the table, and leaned on it a bit, at which she finally looked at him. Those beautiful brown eyes, sparkling with the life they held.

'For once, you're doing ... surprisingly well, for a Muggle-born Gryffindor,' he whispered, and was instantly rewarded with a beautiful smile from her. Neither of them noticed the suspicious if not jealous looks that Harry and Ron shot them.

Then Snape went to sit behind his desk, trying to concentrate on some paperwork, but it wouldn't really work out. He occasionally took a glance at Hermione, who seemed to be doing her utmost on her assignment.

'For Merlin's sake, get a grip on yourself,' he told himself sternly in his thoughts, 'you're no better than the average school boy.' But he couldn't help himself. He knew it was wrong, that he was a dirty old man. But how could something that was so wrong, feel so right?

He was still astonished at how she had managed to change his life so completely. He hadn't intended for this to happen at all. She had come into his life like a whirlwind, those three years ago. At first she seemed to be a most interesting pupil, but at times she also proved to be an insufferable know-it-all, driving him mad. But as she went through more and more 'adventures' with Potter and Weasley, his contacts with her had increased, enabling him to get to know her a little better. As a result, she learned to be more at ease with him, and perhaps she even started to like him a bit. He knew he had been unbearably hard on her during her first three years at Hogwarts, something he now deeply regretted. But despite all of that, she had anyway started to like him at least a bit. It certainly was showing in her grades; they only became better as time progressed. They never said much to each other, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between them, a bond. He wasn't certain how much of that was his own imagination. But Hermione ... oh, she was indescribable. She was extraordinary.

He never thought he could fall in love again after his disastrous romance with Odelia Brimstone so many years ago, which had ended so tragically. After her death, he had let himself fall upon his work, losing himself in it, making him a lonely, silent man, devoid of any feelings or emotions. But Hermione somehow stirred up those feelings in him. Feelings of which he had thought that he could never feel them again. He couldn't explain how or why, but she just did. Just like that. And frankly, he didn't feel like analysing everything to death, as he used to do as a young lad in love. He was content with the way things had turned out, with the way they were.

He knew she could never reciprocate. She was just fourteen years old, far too young to truly realize what love is all about, let alone to be interested in an old, battered man like him. But the looks she sometimes sent him, made him wonder. He knew he was a pervert for falling in love with a girl so young.

But he couldn't help it. It just happened, and he knew it was no use to deny or suppress his feelings. It would only make matters worse. The best thing was to accept it and learn to live with it, he knew that much after the few experiences he had had in love. He never realised it before, but Hermione really taught him that lesson; never hide from what's in your heart.

He sighed. Oh, he wanted her so. He desperately wanted to hold her in his arms, to kiss her and whisper sweet, soft words of love in her ear. But he didn't want to think of her in a sexual way, he forced himself not to. She was still a child, and despite his feelings for her, it was disturbing to even fantasize about him making love to a fourteen-year-old girl. But she would turn sixteen in a couple of years, and at that age, she would not be a girl or child anymore, but not really a woman or adult either.... Yes, perhaps then he could fully see her in a sexual way, but not yet. Not yet. This would do for now.

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Snape was lost in thought. He had been staring absently at her all the time, ever since he had sat himself behind his desk. It was painfully obvious. Fortunately, no one in class seemed to notice, as they were all concentrating on their assignments. But Hermione Granger did notice - and it made her feel all tingly inside. Her throat was dry, and she knew she had butterflies dancing in her stomach. Damn, could it ... could it be? The way he looked at her ... she didn't dare hope too much.

She wondered what he thought about her. She had been caught entirely off-guard by the fluffy feelings she discovered she had for him. She was wise for a girl her age, but she still didn't understand all of it. She figured she would one day, when she was older. But she was certain that it must be love that she was feeling, or something close to it. It was nothing like she'd ever felt before. Sure, she'd had crushes on some boys, even Harry. But this ... this was so different. She had fallen in love with her teacher, who was much older than her; in fact, he was old enough to be her father. She had tried to shrug it off at first, but she soon discovered that it only made matters worse, her feelings more intense. She then gave up her futile fight and accepted it for what it was, which filled her with an odd feeling she couldn't really identify. It was like satisfaction and inner peace, or something. She also felt some sense of loss, like she was missing something. She was yearning for something. Something, that only Snape could provide her with. But she wasn't sure what exactly. She guessed that perhaps it might be sexual stuff, as she had lately found herself thinking embarrassing, forbidden things about her teacher. It was disturbing, and made her feel ashamed and a bit dirty about herself.

'I'm still much too young for this,' she muttered under her breath. All these shiny, new things that adolescence brought for her, scared her off. But somehow she instinctively knew that that wouldn't last forever.

She wasn't sure what she wanted with Snape. 'Plenty of time to figure that out,' she thought. If only she knew how he felt about her. He couldn't possibly love an inexperienced little girl such as herself. It was impossible and unrealistic to be in love with him. He was unattainable. But still, she wondered. She thought she saw something in his eyes sometimes, and the way he sometimes spoke to her ... but she could be imagining things, wishing too much, so that she only saw things she wanted to see. But yet ... oh, she didn't know. She hated how those feelings made her feel uncertain and uncomfortable. But at least she knew she was Snape's favourite pupil, no matter how much he tried to hide it, and that had to count for *something.* It was better than nothing, and she could live with that. For now, that would be enough.

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Suddenly, the school bell rang, and it was time for the students to pack their stuff and go to the next lesson. Hermione reluctantly stood up and packed her things, frustrated that time had gone by so fast. Snape was sharing this sentiment, unbeknownst to her.

After she had packed her rucksack and had placed it over her shoulders, she and Harry and Ron prepared to leave. They were the last ones to leave, and before they would walk through the door, Hermione slightly turned around and risked a glance at Snape.

And then their eyes met.

Hermione froze on the spot; all she could do, was look at him. Both had been caught in an unguarded moment, and in that single look their mutual feelings of frustration, confusion, uncertainty, fear and love became apparent. It lasted only a second, but in that tiny little bit of time, so much information was exchanged between the two, almost as fast as the speed of light.

That precious moment was cut short by Harry, who tugged at Hermione's clothes for attention, after he had noticed that she wasn't coming with him and Ron. This caused her to look at him, briefly startled. When she saw who it was, she flashed him a short reassuring smile, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

'You and Ron should go, I'll be there shortly,' she said. Harry nodded, and left reluctantly. He didn't like what he thought he was probably seeing.

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After Harry had left, the silence in the classroom became heavy with anticipation and unspoken matters. Snape could only look at Hermione, who just stared at him a bit uncertainly. He knew damned well what had just passed between them in that look, and part of him was enthralled to see that she hadn't run away screaming. But an other part of him was afraid of what was going to come, afraid that it wasn't true, that he had only been imagining things. He didn't dare hope too much.

Realising he was sitting like a statue and gaping at her, he relaxed somewhat, easing the expression on his face. This Hermione noticed, and that obviously set her more at ease as well. She flashed him a brief smile, at which his expression softened even more. That encouraged her to walk over to him, slowly. He was still sitting behind his desk, and when she finally stood still in front of him, she just looked him straight in the eyes, seriously. It was like she was searching for something, and whatever that was, she did seem to find it, for she smiled once more, ever so softly.

'Someday,' she said, half whispering, and softly kissed him on his cheek. He could only look at her, amazed, not able to say a word, not even if his life had depended on it. All he could do, was nod. She smiled, understanding. Then she turned around, and left.

Just after she had closed the classroom door behind her, Snape tentatively let his lean fingers travel to the place where she had so gently kissed him. Then, finally, a smile crept up his face, and he was finally able to speak again.

'Someday,' he said softly, repeating what she had said to him just moments ago.

Yes, someday. Someday, he would feel her lips on his, someday he would feel her underneath him, her soft skin against his. He smiled. Oh, what beautiful promises the future now held. And all he had to do, was wait. He had the time. And he didn't mind, for he knew it was worth it.

Someday.