What The Future Holds

Chapter 5 - Resolution

By Ehann

He heard the voice from far away, as if he was lost in a dark tunnel. He couldn’t yet understand the words but it didn’t matter. There was nothing for him here, in this place and time. He wanted… no needed to go –back. Or forward. He couldn’t tell where he belonged. He only knew that drifting in the dark had to be better than going somewhere that didn’t fit him.

But the voice. Called his name, over and over until his body thrashed in irritation. He could feel sheets now, felt the softness underneath him give with his movements as he tossed restlessly back and forth. His brain was split in two, or rather, felt like it should be. Half his mind felt so…empty, as if all the contents had been spilled out.

The calls now were becoming more frantic…his own name echoed in his ears again and again. He could not resist…the voice was too familiar. Yes. He recognized the speaker now, the owner of that voice who refused to let him drift in the dark. She called him, pulled him from the black and into the—

—Light. Blinding light burned his retinas when he opened his eyes, and he quickly shut them again. “It’s okay,” she said softly. Snape heard a faint murmur and mercifully, the world dimmed to a more comfortable level. A few minutes later, when he dared open his eyes a fraction, he found with no little relief that there was a complete absence of pain. His vision cleared and he saw her clearly for the first time.

His mouth dropped. She was real? This was real? “Hermione,” he said, and she smiled.

“So you know my name after all. After all this time, who would have thought?” She leaned back in the chair she had pulled up close to the bed.

He looked around briefly and saw that he was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Apparently she had been keeping some sort of vigil. Her eyes were shadowed, her face pale. “How long have I been unconscious? The last thing I remember…” Wrapping his arms around her, kissing her, touching her everywhere, dragging his hands through her thick unruly hair, losing himself in her…He sat up with some minor difficulty and propped himself up on the headboard. He closed his eyes against the sudden spinning sensation. A cool hand pressed against his cheek; a feathery touch, withdrawn as soon as he opened his eyes.

She looked chagrined. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Of course you should have,” he told her, his voice rough. He caught her hand and drew it to his mouth.

Her eyes flared and she bit her lip. “Professor…”

Moving quickly for a man who had been recently unconscious, he captured her free hand and pulled her nearly on top of him. She opened her mouth to speak, but what she was to say, he would never know. His mouth moved over hers, licking her lips, seeking entry. She hesitated, and he raised one hand to her face, stroking the tender skin there, as he kissed her doubts away. Good thing for him because he thought he might die if she pulled away at that moment. She moaned into his mouth, and buried her hands in his hair, fingers rubbing against his nape. Their kiss went on and on, breaking like a wave and then gathering intensity once more. He dragged his mouth away, and with a fingertip at her chin, she arched her neck, baring the vulnerable skin for him. He sucked at her neck drawing the blood close, not caring as nothing else mattered. He scraped his teeth across the sensitized flesh, and he felt the goose bumps rise up in response.

She shivered, and held his face steady in her two hands. She ran her thumb over his mouth, gaze locked onto his. Something flickered in her eyes and then she was pulling away from him, pushing at him with her hands against her shoulders. When he realized that she had become nearly panicked, he released her, watching in confusion as she seemed to crumple upon herself, sinking back into her chair.

“Professor…There’s something you should know, something I don’t think you’re aware of, I mean.” Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her hands moved over her arms, smoothing down the bumps there.

At his blank look, Hermione took a deep breath. “The headmaster called me in to sit with you because every one was so worried. You…You’ve been unconscious for two days.” She bit her lips, continuing, “When you never showed up for our double Potions class on Monday, they went to check on you…” She sighed, unable to meet his eyes. She didn’t want to have to see the disgust when he realized…

“You are a student.” He said this flatly, his voice so bland that Hermione wanted to cringe.

“Yes,” she answered, finally.

His skin paled, and he turned his face away. “I…apologize,” he sounded like he was strangling, “for my…behaviour.”

“Professor—”

He turned upon her such a look of loathing and disgust that she felt like he had kicked her in the solar plexus. Her hand rose involuntarily, fluttering between her breasts.

“Get out,” he said in an icy whisper, his black eyes burning.

“You didn’t know,” she stammered, “It’s all right, I don’t—”

“Miss Granger,” he said in a terrible tone, “if you do not leave my sight this instant, I believe I shall be moved to violence.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “I said, LEAVE!” He roared the last word.

Hermione burst into tears, and turned, wanting to run as far away as possible. In her haste she tripped over the chair and went sprawling, having twisted her ankle. She never turned to see his reaction, just gritted her teeth and ran clumsily from the infirmary, still weeping.

She stumbled through the corridors, wiping her face furiously. Her ankle was on fire and she knew that her foot was swelling, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get away, get away from him. She hadn’t meant to kiss him, but when he’d pulled her so close and then his mouth, and tongue and oh, God, this was a mess! She had felt passion and lust secondhand from her experience with the Sight out of Mind Potion.

But it had not prepared her for the actual living of the emotions he induced in her. Before she had made it down to the end of the Hospital wing corridor, she collapsed against the wall, all too aware that she needed to have her injury treated. Like hell, I do. Her tears subsiding in the face of righteous indignation, she gathered herself and stood up, balancing on one foot. She pulled out her wand and fumbled through the pockets in her robe.

A Muggle coin that she carried for luck, a wrapper from a Chocolate Frog, and a hair tie. Not the most promising items for Transfiguration. Hermione closed her eyes, concentrating as much as she was able on the mental image of what she wanted to create.

A walking stick, waist high, of natural wood, with a curved handle.

When she felt sure she had the image fixed she took lay the coin flat in her palm. She waved her wand, murmuring the Transfiguration spell. When she opened her eyes again, she was holding the walking stick in her grasp, exactly as she’d pictured it. Using it to support the weight on her bad side, she slowly made her way down the stairs and headed to her dorm.

She needed to lick her wounds in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Never in his life, he thought bitterly, had he ever sunk to such depths of idiocy. After –he made a special effort to remember—Miss Granger had run from him (she hurt herself, his mind spoke up) he had located his wand under his pillow. Thoughtful, that. He neatly transfigured the soft blue nightshirt and matching drawstring pants into more suitable clothes—Black trousers and white shirt.

He knew she’d damaged herself on her way out, but even in this peculiar mental state he was not likely to run through the hallways unclothed. But he felt a sharp twinge in the area over her heart at the thought of her limping all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. She really needed to see Pomfrey. And—oh, dear. As if his thoughts had conjured her up, Poppy appeared at his side, clucking her tongue in blatant disapproval.

“So, Severus, Miss Granger wake you up, did she?”

For this he gave her his most severe glare. “Indeed,” he sneered, “I woke to sniveling teenager, quite tedious, I assure you.”

“Humph.” She picked up his wrist and counted his pulse, at least, that’s what Snape assumed she was doing. She pointed her wand at his heart. The very top of her wand glowed a bright green with a blue tip. “What’s this?”

Snape snorted. “What ever do you mean, Poppy? If today is in fact Tuesday, then I have quite a lot of work to catch up in the dungeons.”

Pomfrey nulled the colored light, the repeated the assessment spell. It showed the same results: Green with a tip of blue. “Very odd, Severus. I ran this diagnostic on you yesterday and it was just green, the color of grass, just as a healthy heart should be.” A sly look crossed her face and she added, “Woke up with a bit of a heartache, did you? Must have had sad dreams while you were under.”

“Oh, enough of your prattling,” he snapped. “Obviously I am alive and well. This nonsense of heartaches notwithstanding. Now,” he stood up, towering over the rather dumpy little witch, “I am going to my rooms. To rest,” he added pointedly, “by myself.”

The mediwitch drew herself up to her full height and glowered impressively. She said coldly, “Severus, you may be the reigning Sovereign of all things potions related. But while you are in my infirmary, I am the person who dictates when you will leave. Dumbledore himself would not change my mind if it was made up.” She continued to regard him in much the same manner he looked at his first years.

Snape was impressed, despite himself. He had known Poppy for many years and never had he seen her quite this….hmm. Something. He stared down at her, unflinching.

She made him wait quite a long time, he thought in reluctant amusement. He must have truly infuriated her. Finally, she waved her hand and said, “Go back to your dungeons, Severus. I will be checking on you down there if that will make you more comfortable than staying here.” Her tone was no nonsense.

He nodded dutifully and escaped. He still had Hermi—Miss Granger to deal with.

~~~~~~~~~~

When he reached Gryffindor, the Fat Lady scowled at him. “What does the head of Slytherin,” –she made it sound like a curse!—“need in the common room?”

Impatiently, he responded, “I need to see Miss Granger. Is she in?” The Fat Lady disappeared for a time. When she came back she sniffed and told him, “Miss Granger is not in the Tower.”

“If you’re lying to me—”

“Ha!” the Fat Lady said. “This is Gryffindor, you know. Unlike your House, our prides itself on telling the truth.”

He smiled coldly. “Oh, is that how you see it?” He turned on his heel without an acknowledgement. 

He still felt the twisting sensation in his chest at the thought oh Hermione wandering about the castle, too prideful to return to the infirmary. And he knew well enough that after his dismissal of her, she would rather cut off her own foot than have to look at him again. Something inside wrenched again, the unfamiliar sensation giving him pause.

Well, what was he to have done? Taken her there, in his hospital bed? Thrown away the last vestiges of honor that he so closely guarded? His indignation crashed to a halt when he realized that it had been Hermione to have to push him away. In point of fact, he had been all too happy to take her there in his hospital bed.

I didn’t know where I was, he thought desperately. I thought I was…there. With the other… Bloody hell. For he knew now that –always assuming the future worked out the way he had witnessed it—he and Hermione…what? Would be lovers? No…there was more than that.

We were—will be, he corrected himself—happy.

He yawned, covering his mouth out of habit. Now that the adrenaline surge had passed he felt rather…worn down, wrung out and also, exhausted. He needed sleep, true sleep and not unconsciousness. He yawned again, heading down to the dungeons and his home.

Sleep, fine. Just please, don’t let me dream.

~~~~~~~~~~

He did not see Hermione until the following Monday, when he had her in class. She kept her head down, said hardly a word to her friends and did not raise her hand once. She simply brewed her potion mechanically, not even raising her head when he deducted fifteen points from Gryffindor for Longbottom’s lack of skills. He thought it best not to antagonize her, the twisting in his chest had not eased over the course of a week, and after the bell she slipped out through the throngs of students.

Over the course of the final two months before Graduation he came to the conclusion that Miss Granger had decided to pretend the Whole  Incident had never taken place. By one month prior to Graduation, she started raising her hand in class again, although she never met his eyes when offering the answer. Once when he stood next to her to sample her Cheering Potion, she did glance up at him but even then her eyes had seemed to look right through him.

With three weeks left in the term, he noticed that while her friends Potter and Weasley talked in nonstop whispers about the Quidditch Cup, she remained eerily silent. The shadows under her eyes had darkened into purple crescents, and he found himself wondering if she was getting enough sleep. Probably she was studying herself into a stupor. He wished he could relieve her mind about his class at least. Her marks were top notch, and he had no doubt she would excel in her other subjects as well.

By two weeks, Snape had made himself face the facts. What had transpired on his ill-fated visit to his future was not to be. She had decided…oh, who the hell knew anyway? She must have decided the easiest thing to do was ignore the hulking beast looming on the horizon. Perhaps, he thought, now that she knew what not to do, she might actually end up with Weasley for a mate. Or Potter, he thought, and nearly retched.

Better I never know. Better she keeps her eyes away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione’s heart pounded as she slipped into Potions right before the bell. Today was their last day of classes. Any second now, she would begin her final exam, a test sure to be physically and emotionally demanding. Physically, because he would assign the most difficult Potions to brew, at least three, one after another. When the practical was completed, they would take the written section. And to make this worse, she had to perform, knowing that he was watching her.

Oh, she felt his eyes upon her…how could she not? She did not dare to look at him though, knowing that everything she felt and thought would be there, written in her eyes for him to see. So he would see and he would sneer and make his awful comments and make her feel like trash for caring about him even the slightest bit.

She just couldn’t deal with that. Not after waking in his arms, and feeling so safe and warm and…That wasn’t my life, she thought mechanically. That was never me.

Snape entered the room then, his black robes billowing. Hermione’s lip curled and she thought that he went out of his way to be very dramatic at times. And how angry he would be if he could, as Harry suspected, read thoughts.

Without saying a word, he wrote three names on the board. No ingredients, just names. Sure, she figured, why make it easy? But she wasn’t worried. She knew the curriculum inside and out.

Some three hours later the exam was over. She had passed, she was sure of it. She stood and took her parchment up to his desk, where he sat, waiting and watching. She kept her head down, although she desperately wanted to look at his eyes. But she merely dropped the thick roll in the basket he used for that purpose. Her exam was the only one there; she was the first student to finish.

Her robes brushed against his as she moved past him.

“Miss Granger.” His voice was nearly inaudible, it was spoken so softly.

She turned. Did not speak. She did however, look directly into his eyes, and gasped, in spite of herself, at what she saw there.

“I need to see you after the exam is finished.”

“All right,” she heard herself say.

He nodded to her and she turned once more to go. She kept her face well down as she left, but this time, it was not to avoid seeing someone, but rather so no one could see her. For her cheeks burned and her pulse pounded in her throat.  What she had glimpsed in that once desperate glance from him…

She had to know. Had to find out for herself. In case this never comes again, she silently swore, I will know what it’s like to actually live my life and not someone else’s.

Chapter 6 >>