You & I
The sixth year at Hogwarts was fraught with tension. Events happening outside the castle walls seemed to seep into every corner of the school, affecting even the most mundane aspects of life. And the fact that war was coming was clear as daybreak. Nonetheless, the school year has started, and Hermione sought his eyes at the welcome feast, he was now, after all these years the DADA professor, but Snape never looked her way. This pattern persisted, he never made eye contact and maintained the usual disdain towards her. But she wouldn't take it anymore, two weeks was enough, and today was her birthday, and she was of age.
Hermione, now seventeen, found herself grappling with the responsibilities and dangers that lay ahead and her growing feelings toward her professor. She made it her mission to have more time with him, time ALONE with him.
Thus began a game, her interactions with Severus Snape became charged with unspoken emotions from both parties. Hermione found herself going out of her way to provoke him, subtly pushing boundaries in class, hoping to earn a detention just to spend more time alone with him. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, during a lesson on offensive jinxes, she almost hit him—on purpose, of course, because she was far too skilled to make such a mistake unintentionally.
Snape was furious, his eyes narrowing as he sneered, 'Miss Granger, I wasn’t aware that your aim had become as pitiful as Mr. Longbottom’s. Or perhaps you’ve simply forgotten who your partner is? Detention. In my office. Tonight.' Hermione had to fight a smirk the thrill of their game heightening the tension between them.
The dungeon corridors were eerily quiet as Hermione made her way to Snape's office that evening. The flickering torches cast long, dancing shadows on the cold stone walls, and the sound of her footsteps echoed in the silence. As she reached the door, she hesitated for a brief moment, taking a deep breath before knocking.
"Enter," Snape’s voice called from within, low and controlled.
Hermione pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles casting a soft glow over the countless jars and vials lining the shelves. Snape was seated behind his desk, quill in hand, his dark eyes focused on a parchment before him. He didn’t look up as she entered, the silence stretching between them like a taut string ready to snap.
"You’re late, Miss Granger," he said without lifting his gaze.
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly recovered, closing the door behind her. "My apologies, Professor," she replied, her voice steady. She moved to stand in front of his desk, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Snape finally looked up, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. He set the quill down with deliberate care, folding his hands on the desk as he regarded her. "Care to explain why you felt the need to nearly hex your professor during class today?"
Hermione bit her lip, struggling to keep her composure. "It was an accident, Professor. My aim—"
"—is far better than that," he interrupted his tone cold but with an undercurrent of something else. "I’m not so easily fooled, Miss Granger. If you wish to play games, I suggest you do so outside of my classroom. However, since you seem to have a penchant for detention, I trust you’ll find this evening’s task... educational."
He stood and moved around the desk, his robes billowing behind him as he approached one of the shelves. Hermione watched him, her heart racing as he pulled out a cauldron and placed it on the desk. He retrieved a few ingredients, placing them beside the cauldron with precision. "You will brew a batch of Veritaserum," he said, his voice low and commanding. "A delicate potion, as I’m sure you’re aware. Fail, and I’ll have you here every night until you get it right."
Hermione met his gaze, the challenge in his words sparking something within her. She moved to the desk, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the cauldron as she began her work. The room was silent save for the sound of her careful movements and the soft crackling of the fire. Snape stood close, watching her every move with a critical eye.
As she added the final ingredient, the potion began to shimmer, a sign that it was nearly complete. Hermione let out a quiet breath of relief, but it was short-lived. Snape stepped closer, his presence looming over her. "Be careful, Miss Granger," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "A single mistake could render the potion useless—or worse."
Hermione’s hands stilled, her nerves threatening to get the better of her. But she wasn’t about to let him see her falter. She carefully stirred the potion, counting the rotations under her breath, until it reached the perfect consistency. When she was done, she set the stirring rod aside and looked up at him.
Snape’s expression was unreadable as he leaned in, inspecting her work. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible sign of approval. "Adequate," he said, his tone betraying nothing. "You may go."
Hermione’s heart sank slightly at the dismissal, but she quickly composed herself, gathering her things. As she reached the door, Snape’s voice stopped her in her tracks. "Miss Granger."
She turned, meeting his gaze once more. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. "Do try not to let your emotions cloud your judgment," he said, his voice softer, almost a warning.
Hermione nodded, her throat dry. "Yes, Professor."
Without another word, she left the office, her mind racing with the implications of their encounter. The game they were playing had just become far more thrilling than she had ever anticipated.
After class, she would linger behind, her heart pounding with anticipation. Hermione would make excuses to ask him questions about the day’s lesson or to discuss advanced topics that had caught her interest. Sometimes she would ask for clarification on a particularly challenging concept, or request additional reading recommendations, her voice steady but her mind racing with unspoken emotions. Their conversations often stretched longer than necessary, the minutes slipping away unnoticed as they delved into complex theories and magical practices.
Each interaction was laced with palpable tension, a careful dance around the unspoken feelings that simmered between them. Their exchanges, while ostensibly academic, were charged with a deeper undercurrent—an awareness of the growing connection that neither was willing to fully acknowledge. Hermione would catch glimpses of something softening in Snape’s eyes, and he, in turn, would sometimes let slip a hint of his usual sharpness, replaced by a more vulnerable edge. The air between them crackled with a mix of curiosity and restraint, a magnetic pull that neither could easily ignore. Every lingering glance, every subtle brush of their fingers as they passed a book or parchment, seemed to draw them closer, complicating their relationship with every fleeting moment.
One evening, Hermione cornered him in his office. She had come to a realization: her feelings for him were undeniable, and they had to confront them. Her recent injury and the way he had saved her had shifted something within her, deepening her admiration into something far more profound. “Professor Snape,” she began, her voice steady despite the tumultuous feelings within her, “there’s something we need to discuss.”
Snape’s eyes, always so guarded, flickered with a rare vulnerability. He motioned for her to sit, but she remained standing, the intensity of her emotions compelling her to stay on her feet. “Since the injury,” Hermione continued, her voice softening, “since you saved me, something has changed. I’ve always admired you for your strength and your knowledge, but it’s more than that now. I can’t ignore what I’m feeling any longer. I need to understand what this is.”
She took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering as she spoke the words she had been holding back. “I know our roles. I know I am a student and you are a professor. But I am of age, and I know how I feel. I thought, there on the stairs at Grimmauld Place, that you felt it too.”
The silence that followed was thick with tension. Snape’s expression was a complex mixture of surprise, apprehension, and something softer that he struggled to mask but then it was gone "Please leave Hermione" It broke her heart he used her name.
Severus was wrecked, she said all that he wanted, though not appropriate, to hear, but he could not encourage her, she may never know his feelings it was too dangerous, the Dark Lord was an accomplished Legilimens. The following weeks were hard, Draco was spiraling, his summons were more frequent and resulted in him being tortured most of the time, and Hermione, Merlin, and Miss Granger, gave him looks that wrecked him.
He found her browsing in the restricted section as usual surrounded by towering shelves of ancient tomes. under the dim light of the Hogwarts library he took a step closer to her, his usual poise slightly faltering. For a moment, he seemed to search for the right words she hadn't seen him yet, “You are right,” he finally said, his voice low and measured she turned quickly her heart racing. He took a step closer reached out and caressed her cheek. His touch was tender, almost reverent as if he was afraid she might vanish if he pressed too hard. Hermione’s breath hitched at the unexpected gesture, her heart pounding in her chest. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, softened as they locked with hers, revealing a depth of emotion that took her breath away.
He cast a muffliato and notice-me-not charms "Hermione. Our circumstances—your age, our positions—cannot be ignored. My role as a double agent and a spy for the Order, you as Potter's best friend, you are on his radar, you already have a target on your back, this, we, US, it will complicate things further.”
Snape’s gaze was troubled as he continued. “Being a double agent means that my actions are constantly under scrutiny, my mind is not private, and even occlumency has its limitations. Any slip, any hint of personal involvement, could jeopardize the safety of everyone involved in this war. My loyalties and my secrets are not mine alone to manage.”
Hermione’s heart sank at his words, but she refused to back down. “I understand the risks, Severus. I know this isn’t simple but I know what I feel. War is coming, the target will stay on my back as long as Voldemort is alive people die every day and there is no promise for tomorrow.” She nodded, her resolve strengthening despite the gravity of his words. “I’m willing to face whatever comes, as long as we’re honest with each other. I know the stakes are high, and I’m prepared for the challenges.” then she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling a sense of connection that had been building between them for so long.
A few days later she came to his office "Enter" he called, and when she entered he looked up and smiled his rare beautiful smile "Miss Granger" he got up and walked towards her and she to him, "Hello Hermione" he said and without thinking, she pulled him down, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was as passionate as it was surprising. Snape hesitated for just a moment before responding, his hands trembling slightly as they settled on her waist. The kiss deepened, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside ceased to exist. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Snape smiled at her then, a rare, genuine smile that transformed his usually stern features. The hardness that so often defined him seemed to melt away, replaced by a warmth that made Hermione’s heart swell with affection. She smiled back, her hand lingering on his cheek, her thumb brushing over the stubble that had begun to form there. “We have much to navigate,” he said quietly, “both in our personal lives and in the dangerous roles we each play. But we will face it together, and I will do everything in my power to protect you and what we have.” Hermione nodded, her heart swelling with hope. “Together,” she agreed.
As they stood in the dimly lit office, the future seemed uncertain, but for the first time, it felt like they were facing it with a sense of shared purpose. Their connection, once a delicate and unspoken bond, had been transformed into something tangible and real, setting the stage for the complex journey that lay ahead—one fraught with peril, secrecy, and the promise of a deeper, enduring commitment.
The weeks went by, each of them busy with life. But whenever they were close, their exchanges were laden with an unspoken understanding and a shared sense of urgency. The subtle glances they exchanged in the corridors, and the moments of silence that stretched between them, all spoke volumes of the growing connection they were reluctant to acknowledge. Their conversations ranged from the complexities of magic to the personal struggles they faced.
Their relationship deepened as they spent more time together. Snape began to teach her Occlumency and Legilimency, skills that became crucial for their survival. He also imparted knowledge of shielding charms, healing spells, and defensive jinxes. Each lesson brought them closer, and their relationship grew stronger with each passing day. Their kisses were tender yet fervent, and their time together became a refuge from the chaos outside.
But not all their moments were filled with warmth. She waited for him in his office anxious for his return after he was summoned. He arrived at the office barely standing and as soon as he entered he lay on the floor of his office, his body wracked with pain from Cruciatus. He screamed in agony, the sound tearing through the silence of the room. Hermione hovered above him, her face pale with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to help. Her hands shook as she attempted to perform the healing spells he had taught her, her voice cracking with desperation as she called out to him.
“Severus, please, stay with me,” she begged, her voice breaking as she watched him writhe in pain. “I can’t lose you.”
Through the haze of pain, his eyes found hers, and despite the agony he was in, he managed a weak smile. “I’m not going anywhere,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but filled with determination. “I promise.”
It was at that moment, as she fought to save him, that Hermione realized just how much he meant to her. Their bond was no longer just a connection forged by shared knowledge and mutual respect; it had become something far deeper, something that neither of them could deny.