Acceptance

Acceptance, Chapter Three: Trials and Errors

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It was well past midnight when Hermione returned to her quarters. While she didn't feel any less stressed out (she still had a mountain of essays to grade, after all), she felt considerably less lonely and alone.

Chocolate biscuits, of all things.

Due to Severus' atypical behavior that evening, she was quite hesitant to consume the sweets. After all, it could be some deranged Death Eater under Polyjuice trying to poison her. You never know. Or it could be a lonely older man trying to branch out and make some good friends before he died.

Going with her second thought, she decided to sample a biscuit.

Well, if it's poisoned, and I die, at least I won't have to grade these blasted essays.

She took a bite. Immediately her mouth was flooded with warm, chocolate-ish goodness. She felt as if she had been warmed to the very soul. I must ask him for that recipe, it's awfully good...

That was the last thing she thought before she fell, unconscious, to the floor.

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The next morning, she woke at 8:30 feeling absolutely refreshed, despite the fact that she spent the night on the cold, hard, stone floor with nary a pillow. Blast him and those biscuits! I knew he poisoned them, the git.

Despite the giant amount of work she had anticipating getting out of the way that Sunday, Hermione felt the overpowering urge to go down to the dungeons and slap that horrible greasy man. And then, reveling in her satisfaction of slapping her formerly-most-hated professor, she'd get breakfast in the Great Hall.

And so she did.

She marched down the corridors, trying to remember where Snape's quarters were, when, for the second time in less than twelve hours, she ran into a solid wall of black.

She didn't act embarrassed this time.

"What EXACTLY did you put in those biscuits? Merlin's teeth, I should have known better than to eat something given to me by someone who CLEARLY is not a safe person to accept food from! Even if you really are Professor Severus Snape! Which you most clearly are not!"

She slapped him, hard, across the face.

A flash of hurt crossed his face before he put back on his deadpan mask.

"Clearly, Hermione, if you had any suspicions that I was not Severus Snape, you shouldn't have eaten the biscuits in the first place. I would have thought that year of studying under 'Alastor Moody' would have taught you that. Needless to mention the experience of the war. Foolish Girl," he spat out and glared at her.

She was insulted and glared back.

His expression softened the tiniest bit and he added, "It was just a simple Sleeping Draught and Rejuvenation Potion combination I have been working on. It's done wonders for me, and I thought it might do you some good, as that Anti-stress potion you mention surely isn't doing anything."

She went from death glare to you-stupid-idiot glare. "Oh. And why did you not just give me the potion in regular form? Or tell me that the cookies would knock me unconscious? Or just ask my permission before drugging me?"

"The baggie was labeled, 'Relaxation Biscuits.' You should have read it."

"What do you expect? I was tired and in no state of mind to consider looking for a label on a baggie given to me by a co-worker!" She sounded considerably distressed.

"I see."

A few moments passed before she realized the absurdity of the conversation she was having. Then she realized that she was staring at Snape. He noticed that as well.

"Is there anything you find particularly interesting about my appearance, Hermione?"

"No, sir, I was just considering if you are really Snape or if you are some crazed Death Eater under Polyjuice who is trying and failing miserably to impersonate him in order to poison me."

"I assure you that I really am Severus Snape and not some deranged Death Eater under Polyjuice who is trying to kill you. If you need proof, you can just stand here with me for the next hour or so, and see that I do not change."

She saw the look of 'I don't believe how strange you really are' that was sent her way by Snape, and felt suitably embarrassed.

"By the way, do you have the recipe for those biscuits? I rather enjoyed the taste before I passed out."

He gave her a wicked grin. "I am afraid, my dear, that you'll just have to ask me to make a batch if you ever want one. It's an old family recipe, secret, can't tell you."

They chatted about various things, from potions ingredients to the medicinal properties of chocolate to teaching strategies, for the next two hours. As the period of time drew to a close, Hermione paid careful attention to Severus' physical appearance so as to notice if he started to change. Her gaze drifted from his hair, which was still black as it should be, to his prominent nose, still hooked, to his mouth, still thin-lipped, to his robes with all the buttons, still as tight as they should be, thank goodness...

Hmm, that was random... Like I'd know how tight they should be, right... Oh well.

She was drawn out of her reverie by a rumble from her stomach. I had meant to slap him and then get breakfast. I'm only half way done with my task. Must get breakfast in the Great Hall. I wonder if he'd like to join me?

"Oh! I'm quite hungry. Care to join me for breakfast?"

"No, I've already eaten and I have piles of essays written by the dunderheads we call our students to grade. I need to get back to the dungeons. I can't spend all day chatting, can I?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Righty then. I'll be off to breakfast. Have fun grading essays," she added sarcastically.

He snorted.

"I'm sure I will. Would you like to join me for late-night tea again this evening? I can assure you it won't be as awkward as was last night."

"Er... All right, I guess, it's just I also have a stack of papers also, and I don't know how long it will take me."

"About how long do you spend on each one?"

"Oh, about two hours."

"How do you ever expect to return them within a reasonable amount of time if you are that slow at marking? If you have any left by ten o'clock this evening, you can bring them with you to my quarters and I'll let you mark them while you have tea with me." He sounded ridiculously like this tea date was some strange form of detention.

She nodded in agreement and set off to the kitchens to grab a roll. After all, it was eleven and breakfast would have ended half an hour before.

I wonder if this will become a tradition, nightly tea with Snape. I really should write Harry and Ron. They will most certainly be amused by this turn of events.