This Present Darkness

Chapter Four

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

1 Corinthians 13:10

"all my desire is before thee; and my groaning is not hid from thee."

Psalm 38:9

Once Hermione had transformed back in the very early hours of the morning, she crept back up to her room in Hogwarts in a daze. Her mind was still running free in the cold night air of the Dark Forest and she still didn't feel quite human. She had a swim in the bath after tidying away her potion making equipment and went to sleep after taking some sleeping potion. That night she dreamt of the shadows of trees falling under sharp, ebony hooves.

The next day, she refused to go down at all. She was in no place to expose herself to more rumours. Let bloody Ron and Harry find her if they were worried. They wouldn't be anyway - too wrapped up in their girlfriends, she thought irritably. Hermione snuck down to the library while everyone was at breakfast and got some books which she then took up to her room. She did the same thing the next few days until graduation.

Hermione participated in the graduation ceremony fighting back tears. Her parents would have been here taking a million pictures if they'd still been alive. There was no point getting pictures of this day now. Who would ever care to look at the damn things now? She tried very hard not to wallow in self-pity but it was hard. Right after the graduation lunch they were heading for the train. She was about to follow Ron and Harry onto the boats when Snape loomed up beside her and took her aside.

"We're going by floo, Miss Granger. We have an appointment with your parents' Muggle lawyer in an hour," he explained in clipped tones, his expression icy cold. Before she could protest, he was leading her away by the shoulder.

"We'll owl you!" Ron and Harry shouted as they saw her being led off. She waved, disheartened. Everything was moving too fast. First her parents, now her school, now daily contact with her friends - all her support bases were being stripped from her. All she had was herself and a coldhearted, miserable bastard to look to now.

I'll just have to be enough, she thought lifting her head. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw her lift her chin a trifle. When he glanced down at her, he saw the pride and self-possession of a princess of an ancient bloodline on her face. Well done, Miss Granger he thought approvingly. That will get you though this next difficult period of life. As they passed by students leaving the castle, whispers followed them and curious teenagers craned their necks to get a better view. Hermione did not bat an eyelid.

Once they reached Snape's office, he handed her some floo powder. "Your trunks will follow soon after, Miss Granger. In the meantime, we will go to Gringotts which is close to the Muggle lawyer's offices in London," he instructed neutrally.

She threw the powder on the fire and said, "Gringotts". A few seconds later she was stepping out into the marble foyer area of the bank. Snape stepped out seconds behind her.

"This way, Miss Granger," he said formally and led her out of Gringotts, out of Diagon Alley and into the bustle of London. Hermione was in Muggle clothes already, having planned to travel in them. Snape took off his cloak, magically shrunk it and put it in his trouser pocket on the way out of Diagon Alley. He could pass for a Muggle albeit an eccentric one, Hermione thought looking at the distinctive cut of his trousers and the long-sleeved, high-necked dress shirt he wore that had dozens of buttons down the front. He looked like a Goth who was just a little too old to be indulging in sub-culture weirdness.

She followed him until they came to an old, stone building and then up two flights of stairs to a solicitors' reception. They weren't kept waiting long. Soon, a young and rather handsome solicitor showed them to his office. He had dirty blonde hair, a clean-cut handsome face and - as far as Snape was concerned - too many teeth.

The solicitor carefully explained the will to them both, his eyes resting on Hermione rather more than Snape liked. The young man was rather un-nerved by the limpid, unreadable gaze of the young woman and her quick grasp of what he was telling her. "Do you have any questions?" he asked finally.

"Yes," she replied, surprising him by pulling a list out of a pocket in her skirt. She went through the questions with him thoroughly and flustered him a bit when he couldn't answer them all. Snape felt rather relieved that it wasn't him being grilled for once by Hermione's endless questions.

Finally they were ready to go when the young man said out of the blue, "Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Granger?" His arrogant confidence grated on her nerves. He was so sure she'd flirt back.

"What has that got to do with my parent's will?" she asked with a dangerous mildness.

"Er... nothing," he said, his smile fading a few watts. "I just thought we could have coffee sometime," he added hurriedly. She glanced at the wedding photo on his desk, to the plain gold band on his wedding ring finger. "Oh, that's my sister's wedding," he explained with a grin.

"Do you keep that photo on your desk and wear a ring on your wedding ring finger to scare off predatory female clients?" she asked coolly. He didn't answer but his cheeks stained an unpleasant red. "Well, I don't know why you bother," she finally added as the silence stretched. "Good-bye." With that she sailed out of the office with Snape close on her heels. If it had been in Snape to grin, he would have been grinning. He had been about to point out that dating female clients was unethical and that she was still a minor but Hermione had been so much more effective... and humiliating! Her performance had completely made his day. He'd hated the way that young sap's watery blue eyes had lingered on her face; he hated his false smile and his arrogance. Snape had wanted to thump him or better yet, hex him.

* * *

Hermione's house had been put on the floo network temporarily as they went straight there after stopping in Diagon Alley for a few minor purchases.

Her home already felt different to her, Hermione realized as soon as she stopped out of the fireplace. It was empty and silent and echoing. Without the human spirits that had animated it, it was merely a shell. Already she felt herself disconnecting from it. The sooner she sorted through everything and put the house on the market, the better.

Her parents being dentists and well off meant their house was huge. It backed onto a rural estate with lovely views. It was two storey and brick, modern and trendy with lots of glass and chrome. Hermione had never liked it. She preferred old-fashioned architecture.

Her trunk was already near the fireplace with Crookshank's cage on top. He mewed when he saw her. She let him out immediately. In the meantime, Snape was seeing the interior of a Muggle home for he first time. He wasn't particularly impressed. His familiar sneer sat on his countenance. He frankly thought it was ugly and without character or comfort.

"Would you like upstairs or downstairs?" Hermione asked quietly, petting Crookshanks.

"Downstairs," he replied immediately. If he couldn't have dungeons then he'd at least have ground level. He preferred shadows to hide in.

"I need to go shopping for supplies. I think it's best if we only use magic for emergencies. We do have close neighbours here," she continued in the same tone. Snape's mouth tightened in annoyance but she was right. He nodded. "I'll show you to your rooms," she said and led the way downstairs. He had a spacious bedroom with an ensuite, and a large sitting room with comfortable sofas and a library.

Snape was satisfied but obviously unimpressed with Muggle living standards. "I have some business I need to attempt this afternoon so I won't be back until tonight," he said curtly, noting the fireplace in the sitting room.

"Yes Sir," Hermione said expressionlessly. "If you're not back for dinner, I'll leave some out," she added considerately.

"Don't bother. I can take care of myself," he snapped.

Hermione felt hurt but then felt annoyed at herself. She knew Snape was an arsehole so why was she hurt by his ungraciousness? "Fine," she said shortly and headed out to the garage. The keys to one of her parent's cars (the other family car having been written off in the crash that killed them) was in the ignition. She had her learner's permit and could drive well. She could take her test now with her 18^th birthday so close and intended to do so over the next few weeks.

She went to the local supermarket and bought some groceries. Money was one thing she'd probably never have to worry about again from what her solicitor told her. She had no idea what Snape liked and cared even less. Something maternal in her made her want to feed him up a bit and get him healthy, however. It was a weird urge and one she couldn't fight. She bought more red meat then she would have for herself and lots of fattening things like rice and potatoes to feed him up. It embarrassed her - this maternal feeling. It was so obviously misguided. Snape would despise her if he knew about it.

Hermione spent the afternoon cleaning and preparing his rooms, and cleaning out her parent's fridge of the green fuzzy things it was growing. It felt good to scrub and dust and polish. It was an occupation that allowed her mind to be numb. She made herself cup-a-soup for dinner as it was still hard to find an appetite and fell exhausted into bed at 10pm. She didn't hear Snape come in at 2am.

Snape had some last minute Hogwarts business to clear up before leaving the place for nearly two months. He had found a parchment from Hermione in his personal pigeon hole outside his office where students could leave their assignments. She must have left it there the previous night as he hadn't checked it since then. The parchment had contained 6 words.

My animagus is a black unicorn.

Trust Hermione not to allow even one assignment to slip by her, he thought sourly. Well her grade for Potions was good anyway but he could finally award her the final mark for the semester. It would be around 98%. The next closest was a Ravenclaw with 95%.

Her parchment had given him chills. He had known himself to be right but somehow seeing it in black and white in Hermione's handwriting was the final confirmation. There was no longer any room for doubt. He attached the note to his black owl's leg and sent it up to Dumbledore with a hastily scribbled note from himself at the bottom.

Final confirmation.

He came back to Hermione's house to find fresh sheets on his bed; a lemon fresh smelling ensuite with new soap, bath gel, shampoo, shaving cream, razors, aftershave and other toiletries there; a newly cleaned sitting room that had been aired and fresh towels for him to use on the end of his bed. He eyed all this with a strange expression, half disbelief and half confusion. Why would the child do all this for him? She knew he could have done it for himself. With a frown, he went to his trunk he'd bought with him and began unpacking.

The next morning it took a few minutes for Snape to figure out what the toothbrush and toothpaste were for. In fact, he had to read the container. "Colgate Whitening", it read. What on earth did that mean, he wondered? He'd always cleaned his teeth magically and it never would have occurred to him to whiten his teeth as well for appearance sake. He found doing things the Muggle way tedious.

That day, Hermione insisted on taking him shopping for clothes. "You can't wear those wizarding clothes here. They look eccentric," Hermione explained.

As it was, they got a lot of strange looks initially. She made him change into some of his new purchases in the shopping center men's room. When he came out in crisp new jeans and a t-shirt with a flannelette shirt over the top, Hermione hardly recognized him. "You look so much more relaxed," she observed. He scowled which completely ruined the effect. "Your taste in clothes is totally lower middle class," Hermione commented as they looked through racks.

"I don't care as long as I'm comfortable," he drawled coldly. "Besides, it's only for a short time and I don't need to impress Muggles."

"Hmmmm. You still need good clothes for special occasions," she insisted and made him try on tailored slacks and shirts. Fortunately Snape was decisive and a quick study. He had a reasonable wardrobe inside of two hours. Hermione had enjoyed seeing Snape struggle a bit with the Muggle money he'd changed at Gringotts as they'd passed through the day before. She wasn't used to seeing him be unsure of anything. It made her feel very smug.

The rest of the day Hermione spent going through her parent's bedroom, sorting clothes to be thrown out and clothes to go to charity.

At breakfast and lunch, Hermione had cooked a nutritious meal hoping to tempt Snape's appetite and build his health up a bit. He'd looked suspiciously at the freshly squeezed vegetable juice but had drunk it and he'd eaten the high protein meals without complaint. In fact, Hermione got the impression he'd eat anything put in front of him and barely notice it. She smiled to herself. This was going to be easier than she'd thought.

They spoke little over the first two weeks. Hermione still felt numb and had a lot to sort out regarding her parent's possessions. As her mother had been a pack rat, it was a long process.

Snape was bored but stayed out of her way. He had no desire to deal with the emotional fall out of a grieving teen-ager, he felt ill-equipped to do so. He occupied himself trying to get the gardens and lawns tidied up. She had mentioned selling the house and the garden was neglected. Obviously neither parent had had time to deal with it. Usually he wouldn't have even contemplated physical labour but he felt energetic and restless, and tidying up the garden was a good outlet. Other than that, he took long walks around the rural neighbourhood and read the Muggle books in their library which were surprisingly good, he thought.

One thing that bothered Snape about Hermione was that he'd never seen or heard her cry. He was sure it was unhealthy to lose your parents and not cry but she seemed oddly calm. Not that he wanted to deal with tears but the silence was un-nerving.

After the third week, Dumbledore owled him for a report. He decided to visit Dumbledore by floo that night. In the meantime he did his washing and ironing, disgusted at how long it took to do things the Muggle way. Hermione had carefully explained how to use all the household labour saving devices in his first week there. He could use a washing machine, dryer, dishwasher, iron, microwave, oven, stove, vacuum cleaner, tv, dvd and stereo inside the first two days. Little things like shaving and combing his hair manually stumped him at first. He cut himself to bits the first few times he shaved. The comb's use flummoxed him for three full days.

Muggle remedies were weird too, he decided. Using little pills to take away headaches rather than charms or potions. Leaving cuts open to heal slowly rather than using a skin closing charm. Even using towels to dry himself was odd. Every few days he had to wash his clothes in water(!) then press them flat using a hot piece of metal. It was all ingenious but so time-consuming! No wonder Muggles were backward, Snape mused. They were too busy doing tedious chores to study and discover things.

Late that evening he stepped out of Dumbledore's office fireplace. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he examined his Potions Master. His hair was as silky as a raven's wing, all signs of grease gone. The sallow tinge to his face was nearly gone; his face and body had filled out to being merely lean rather than thin; his cheekbones held a touch of healthy colour; his skin was now merely pale rather than blue white and his teeth were now closer to white than yellow. "Well, well. What a change Severus," Dumbledore observed.

Snape didn't understand. "Yes, I don't care for Muggle clothes myself," he commented uncomfortably.

"No, no Severus. Not your clothes - you!" Dumbledore said smugly. He pulled Snape over to a gilt mirror hanging over the mantle and Snape scowled into it. He got no pleasure from looking at himself and seldom did. Dumbledore muttered something and gestured, and an image of Snape on the day he'd left Hogwarts with Hermione appeared. The difference was unmistakable. Snape blinked. He looked like himself but he didn't. He stared.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, what is young Hermione doing to you?" he said insinuatingly.

"Nothing!" Snape almost snarled, looking startled and horrified. "What do you mean?" he added suspiciously.

"Well, look at you! You look so healthy and well, Severus. She must be taking good care of you," Dumbledore said mildly going back to his desk.

"I'm taking care of myself!" Snape snapped irritably, turning away from the mirror and pacing the room.

"Sit down, Severus," Dumbledore protested, watching him. Snape stalked to a chair and threw himself moodily into it. "The changes you see are due mainly to you not standing over cauldrons emitting noxious fumes nearly 24 hours a day. Fresh air, sunshine, exercise and regular meals have wrought the transformation; all of which are a change for you," Dumbledore added pointedly. Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Also, a break from the constant stress of spying and Voldemort's constant torture has helped too," Dumbledore added. Seeing a pretty face every day doesn't hurt either, Dumbledore added mentally but wisely didn't say so.

"Do you think my potion making has ruined my health?" Snape asked, as the thought occurred to him for the first time.

"That's a large part of it. Being a workaholic and constantly stressed did the rest," the white haired man replied. "Think of all the poisons you use. You breathe them in, you absorb them through your skin when you handle them. You test some of them on yourself. It wouldn't harm someone using them intermittently but you expose yourself to them around the clock usually."

Snape said nothing for a while, obviously absorbing this new insight. "Is this why you wanted to see me?" he finally asked.

"No, I wanted a report on Hermione. How is our brilliant young lady?" he asked kindly.

Snape shrugged. "She seems fine. Very calm and organized."

"That doesn't strike you as odd?" Dumbledore probed.

"Very but I don't know what I can do about it," Snape replied matter-of-factly, leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe persuade her to talk to you about it?" the older man suggested.

Snape stared at him. "I don't know how to do that," he hissed, withdrawing back into his chair suddenly.

"You can only try. If you don't succeed at first, she may open up over time," Dumbledore pressed.

"She won't want to confide in me. She doesn't like me!" Snape reasoned, his voice cold.

"Do you like her?" Dumbledore asked dryly.

Snape shrugged again. "She's a child and one of Potter's friends. To be honest, I only know her as a student, not as a person. And no, I don't like her."

"Time to change that. She's your ward now. She needs to be able to trust you," Dumbledore said sternly.

And when I don't guard my thoughts, she gives me a massive hard-on, Snape added in his thoughts. I don't think Dumbledore wants me to get to know her that way.

"I'll try," Snape said non-commitally.

"I want a report of her mental and emotional state in a week," Dumbledore said firmly.

Snape groaned inwardly.

* * *

It was around 1am when Snape got back. As he stepped out of his sitting room fireplace he heard strange thumping noises from upstairs, like something was falling or being thrown. He kicked off his boots and crept noiselessly up the stairs. A light was on in one of the bedrooms down the hall. As he got closer he heard odd inchoate sounds. He peered round the door to find Hermione in a passion. She was throwing books around her room, her face was red and her eyes were wet. She looked like a demon incarnate.

She caught a glimpse of him. "Get out! Just get out!" He ducked as a book came whizzing his way. He took a step into the room. "Are you f*cking deaf? I said to get out! Just go away! Why are you even here, you useless piece of sh*t?" Another book came whizzing his way. It might have been funny but for the truly dangerous rage on her face. This was not a tantrum - she wanted to do real damage. He stood transfixed by how weird her eyes looked. He thought her eyes were brown but he now realized they weren't; they were a very dark iron grey. In her passion they blazed almost silver, reflecting light eerily like a cat. It unsettled him somewhat.

"Hermione, calm down!" he ordered firmly. He realized that was the wrong approach when a volley of CDs came his way.

"F*ck off, you useless son of a b*tch!" She screamed.

How does she know my mother was a b*tch, he wondered inconsequentially? "Hermione," he said gently, finally twigging that his best approach was to be calm and reasonable. "What is wrong? Talk to me." He dodged another book.

"I don't want to talk to you. I want you to go away!" she yelled.

That would suit me too, he thought annoyed. He stood his ground, his hands on his hips and his expression unimpressed. She fumed and kicked a few pieces of furniture. When he still wouldn't go away, she curled up miserably on her bed.

Gingerly, he sat down beside her. "Now, tell me what brought all of this on," he asked calmly. Really, she could vie with Voldemort for sheer, terrifying rage, he thought. Voldemort had trained him well to stay calm and hold his ground in the face of volcanic rage. She hid her face in her up-drawn knees. "You're being childish," he said quietly. Bad move.

"I am f*cking not, arsehole!" She exploded again. "Didn't I tell you to go away?"

He decided to take a different tack. "I know you're angry. Can't you tell me why?" he said deliberately neutrally.

"What the f*ck do you care?" she demanded fiercely.

His body stiffened. He wanted to tell her not to use that word but he wisely bit his tongue. "I'm your guardian. It's my responsibility to care," he said with barely controlled patience. Another bad move.

"Take your f*cking responsibility and shove it up your arse!" she snarled. He compressed his lips and back-tracked.

"I do care, Hermione," he said evenly and wondered if it was true.

"You do f*cking not! Don't lie to me! I'm not stupid. Now, just go! Please. Leave me alone," she said bitterly. Suddenly her eyes filled and over-flowed.

"No, I'm not going while you're in a state like this." He replied with false calm. He held his breath. The look in her eyes was like a blow to the gut all of a sudden. The misery and the searing vulnerability took his breath away. He'd never seen her vulnerable or weak or not in control. She'd always met his challenges in the classroom with defiance, she'd taken his sneers with an equal measure of contempt and his cruelty with the indifference of someone who cared nothing for him. It had hurt his pride and made him hate her. He couldn't break her but she was broken now - by life and cruel fate.

"Won't you tell me what's wrong?" he almost whispered.

She couldn't, she was crying too hard. She reached out a hand and grabbed some tissues. The bed was littered with them by the time she'd cried herself out. A different person would have put their arms around her but Snape didn't dare. She wouldn't want him touching her. No-one wanted him to touch them. He found he couldn't bear to risk the rejection.

"Some" ::sniff:: "great" ::sniff:: "guardian" ::choke:: "you are", she said finally.

"Why?" he asked, his mouth twisting and feeling rather offended.

"You're not much use, are you?" She blew her nose (again).

"In what way?" he inquired coldly, rather annoyed.

"Well, you're not very comforting," she sniveled.

"Sorry. I don't have any practice," he apologized snappily.

"I suppose Death Eaters are used to killing people not comforting the grieving relatives," she said smartly, stung into attack by his surliness.

He sucked in his breath. "Damn Potter!" he cursed viciously.

"What?" she demanded, confused.

"How dare he discuss my past with everyone," Snape snarled. He got up from the bed to pace. Suddenly it hurt that she knew. He wanted to hide somewhere and protect himself, particularly from her.

Hermione shrugged. "Harry only told Ron and me."

"That's quite enough," Snape said broodingly.

"We won't tell anyone. We haven't told anyone," she pointed out.

Snape looked at her again. She still looked pathetic. A swollen, red nose did not add to her attractions, he mused. He sat on the bed again. "What can I do to comfort you?" he asked sounding stilted, surprising both himself and her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. My parents were hopeless at it too. In fact, you're better at it than they were," she observed, still sniffing.

"What did they do when you were crying?" he asked, trying to sound gentle and hoping for a hint.

"They walked off and ignored me," she said directly and without self-pity.

That news was like a slap on the face to Snape. It sounded like his parents. He frowned. "What did Harry or Ron do?" he tried again, still frowning.

"They hardly ever saw me cry. When they did, they hugged me," Hermione stated rather baldly.

Snape froze. "Do... do you want me... to... to... er... hug you?" he finally managed to say.

She glared at him. "Well, what do you think?" she snapped. I can do this, Snape told himself and took a deep breath. I can hug like a Gryffindor if I try really hard. Gingerly he put one arm around her and held her nearly a full arm's length away. "So, what? Do I smell?" she asked sharply, glaring at him out of red-rimmed eyes.

"Er... no." Snape said and carefully pulled her slightly closer.

She sighed heavily. "If that's the best you can do, you can just leave!"

He got aggravated. He was trying for goodness sake! "Well, you show me how and then I will," he said, sounding cranky. Bad move - just another in a long list that evening. She put both her arms around his slim middle and snuggled against him. He held his breath. He was simply unused to so much body contact. She sighed and pulled away. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked anxiously.

"What? You mean apart from turn into a piece of granite?" she said sarcastically. She pulled her knees up to her chest again.

"I'm sorry... I'm just not used to..." he stumbled awkwardly, feeling a bit desperate and resenting it at the same time.

"Just go away, okay? My parents are dead. I don't need them resurrected in my guardian," she said bitterly.

He looked at her carefully, his dark, deep-set eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he said quietly.

"I mean, I have enough rejection issues from them. I don't need them to be reinforced by you!" she said, concise in her anger.

"I'm not rejecting you, Hermione. It's just... It's just..." How the hell did he explain, he wondered? She gave him a jaded look underpinned by a vulnerability that made him ache. Suddenly, something in him snapped. She'd yelled at him, sworn at him, launched missiles at him, broken his heart, railed at him, pronounced him a failure, thrown his past in his face and now this accusation. "Do you want to know why I can't hug you, Hermione?" He asked in a dangerous voice. She just gave him a look and didn't reply. "Stand up," he commanded in his school-teacher voice. She sneered. "Stand up!" he hissed furiously and pulled her to her feet by one arm.

They were standing millimeters apart. They could feel the warmth from each other's bodies. She looked up at him defiantly, eyes glittering. He looked down at her like a bird of prey ready to swoop, his eyes hooded. "Do you want a hug?" he whispered cruelly and his long arms snaked around her slender form, pressing her hard against him. He heard her gasp when she felt his erection pressing into the soft flesh of her belly. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "I am your guardian, Hermione but I am also a man."

The soft silk of her hair against his face was driving him mad. Then the unbelievable happened. She pressed herself against him, her curves melting into the hardness of his flesh and wound her arms around his neck. "Is that it?" she whispered back. She pushed her fingers into the silky black hair at the nape of his neck. He couldn't believe how quickly she changed gears.

He lost his head completely in the sheer surprise and deliciousness of the moment. His lips found hers', tentatively at first until he got Hermione's immediate response. It wasn't long before his tongue was teasing her lips to get into her mouth. She made a sound of pure pleasure as she opened her mouth to his kiss.

A cold chill suddenly crept up his spine. This was his ward! He was kissing his ward! Dumbledore would be furious and rightly so. "Hermione, this is wrong," he said urgently against her mouth.

"No, it isn't," she said, nipping at his bottom lip.

He made himself push her away, hating the cold air that suddenly came between them. "I can't!" he said harshly, his face white. "I'm your guardian, for goodness sake!" He risked a look at her face. She was staring at him stonily. It would be so easy, he thought, just to pull her into my arms again and kiss away that look.

"I can't!" he repeated. "I can't kiss you and I can't hug you. I shouldn't touch you in any way," he said desperately, then almost ran from her room.

Hermione watched him go with narrowed eyes and kicked a piece of furniture in frustration.