Secrets and Distractions

Secrets and Distractions

Hermione tugged the sleeve of her jumper back down over her forearm, hiding the orderly row of cuts marring the skin. She was always so organized, so neat, even in the pain she inflicted upon herself.

Remus gazed at her worriedly. It concerned him that a middle-age Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was the only person a likeable teenage girl felt comfortable confiding that she cut with. Of course, it also concerned him that a likeable teenage girl should cut herself at all.

She was avoiding his eyes and the silence was becoming unbearable.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, casting around for something to say, though not in the least bit surprised when she shook her head no.

He looked around his office, searching for a distraction; then his eyes landed on a worn, old chocolate pot he had had for God knew how long. He moved to prepare the water, remembering that she liked chocolate in solid form, so there was a good chance she liked it in liquid form as well.

His movement seemed to startle her. He held the pot up so she could see what he was doing, noticing that his doing so caused her to visibly relax.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" he asked, working to keep his voice soft and reassuring. He got a "Yes, please," in response. It was an improvement from the shaking of the head to answer.

As he wandered about getting cups and biscuits and napkins and other such things, he kept his senses trained on her. He snuck a glance back at her, feeling slightly ridiculous; his eyesight told him that she was staring intently at the wood-grain table, apparently utterly fascinated by it. The acute senses of the wolf inside him recognized her discomfort. He heard the wolf keening in fear at the almost tangible fear she radiated, but his human mind realized it was fear of rejection. A fear he knew well.

He carefully set a full mug down in front of her; watching as she lifted her eyes to his and smiled briefly, before returning to her inspection of the table. As they sat together sipping the chocolate, the silence became lighter, more comfortable. Soon the fear rolling off of her had lessened enough for the wolf to settle down.

He hesitated, and then spoke. "I want you to know, Hermione, that you can always come to me. If you need to talk about something, or you get the urge to hurt yourself, or you just want some company. My door is always open." He smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way; but having her intense honey-coloured eyes locked with his own amber gaze was slightly disconcerting.

Finally, she seemed to find what she was looking for and smiled a grateful smile. "Thank you, Professor Lupin. You don't know how much that means to me."

~*~

"Yes, I appreciate it, but does the offer still stand when you are curled up in you office covered in fur?" she muttered irritably under her breath. Hermione rubbed her arm unconsciously; intent on reaching her destination before she snapped and found something that could draw blood.

She knocked lightly on the door, afraid of what her Professor's reaction to her visit would be.

"Enter," a voice called icily from inside the room. Hermione slid the door open, nearly shaking with nerves, to find Severus Snape glaring at her. The cold looked flashed briefly with surprise upon seeing who she was, but then swiftly returned to being unreadable.

"Miss Granger. To what do I owe this...pleasure?" He sneered, making it clear that the visit was far from a pleasure for him.

"Er, well...um, the thing is..." she stuttered. His eyes were very intense; she had never noticed that before.

"Are you incapable of forming a coherent sentence?" he demanded, sneering at her again. He did that far too often for his own well-being.

She flushed a bit, but met his gaze steadily as she spoke. "I couldn't sleep. I was wondering if you needed help with anything." Again, the surprised look held his features captive, then the mask was back up.

"Very well, you may grade the first and second years' essays." He gestured to a pile of scrolls and promptly began ignoring her. She sighed softly in relief, then began her rather tedious task.

Several hours later she gazed in boredom around the room. There was a stack of scrolls in front of her, marred with a plentiful amount of red ink in her tidy script. The task had been easier than she had anticipated, but it had still taken her awhile to catch all of the mistakes.

Professor Snape was working on the sixth years' essays; still determinedly ignoring her. The urge to cut had long since past, but she still didn't want to go. She cocked her head at the stack of the third years' essays. She was above almost everyone in her year, and she could certainly write on a separate piece of parchment, in case she was wrong about something. She glanced sideways at Snape. Under normal circumstances she would ask his permission, but she had the distinct feeling that he would not appreciate being interrupted. She shrugged and pulled one of the essays towards her. 'Now, where might I find a spare bit of parchment...?'

~*~

Severus looked up sharply when the girl seated next to him let out a badly muffled sob. Her fist was stuffed into her mouth and her eyes were screwed up as though fighting back tears.

His eyes swept the table, searching for what on earth could have upset her so badly. 'Oh yes, Weasley's essay.' Of course, she and those two idiots she called friends were in a fight.

He decided it would be best to leave her to get herself under control. He would most likely just make it worse were he to try and comfort her.

From what he could see, it would seem that she had finished grading the first and second years' essays and moved on to her own year. He noticed the parchments surrounding her in that neat script of hers, realizing that she must have thought that he would not approve of her grading her own year. Well, her suspicions were unfounded. He knew she was far more intelligent than even some of the N.E.W.T. students he had the misfortune of teaching. He failed to comprehend how many of them had even passed their Potions O.W.L., let alone gotten an Outstanding on it.

The odd noises she was making seemed to have lessened, so he deemed it safe to look at her. When he turned toward her he was greeted by her embarrassed gaze, the brown eyes still over-bright from her tears.

"Sorry," she whispered, ducking her head sheepishly. He had to give credit where credit was due (most of the time, at least), she did an admirable job of keeping her voice steady. He hesitated briefly. He really had no experience with broken hearted females, then decided that Albus would somehow find out (because Albus found out everything) and never forgive him for not at least trying to comfort her.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked against his better judgment. The girl gazed at him in slight surprise. A smile slid across her features, a smile no one so young should have to wear.

"I've been better, Professor, but I've been worse as well." He hadn't expected that reaction. What he had expected was teenage drama and suffocating amounts of angst. What he got was something he had very rarely encountered, and only once before in someone of her age. He had not thought it possible that more than one teenager could possess such a thing as wisdom.

He could tell with a rather alarming clarity that this girl (no, young woman, she's far from a girl) had seen far more than she ever let on. "Why don't you go to bed, Miss Granger? You look exhausted." He didn't want to be rid of her. Certainly not when he had discovered what he had. He simply thought she could do with some sleep.

She nodded gratefully, slipping out of her chair. 'I've never noticed how quietly she moves,' he thought randomly. She turned around at the door and smiled at him, softly, sadly. Damn that smile and whatever had caused it! He realized it for what it was; her way of saying thank you. In a rare display of showing that yes, he really did have a heart, he smiled back. He found himself hoping it would offer her some form of comfort, though he severely doubted it. It really was the best he could do; he had never been a person to openly display his feelings.

As she closed the door gently behind her he found himself vowing to protect her; though of course never letting it be known that he cared for the girl. That would ruin his reputation.

~*~

"Well, that was unexpected," Hermione murmured to herself as she darted lightly out of the dungeons. When she had lost control, she had fully anticipated him sneering and mocking her, or even just ignoring her. She certainly hadn't been prepared for him to comfort her! Well, attempt to comfort her. He was rather bad at the whole business of comforting. It had still been quite a shock.

A slightly wicked grin spread across her pale features. She now had solid proof that Severus Snape had a heart! Pity she could never actually use it.

The Fat Lady gazed at her reproachfully. Evidently she didn't appreciate being poked awake at odd hours. Luckily she had given up demanding to know where the insomniac young Gryffindor went during her nighttime wanderings.

After she had managed to convince The Fat Lady that it would not be a good idea to lock her out for the rest of the night, she darted through the common room, avoiding a couple snogging on the couch, and up the girls' staircase.

She felt oddly...peaceful. And blessedly tired. She collapsed onto her bed without bothering to undress. When she fell asleep it was to plots of how to acquire a chocolate sculpture for Professor Lupin.