Author's Note: School has been keeping me busy, but here's the next chapter, finally. Heed the angst warning! As always, thanks to my wonderful beta: Lotm. Muchos smooches to everyone who reads and even more to all of you fine folk who review as well! Y'all make my day. :) And, on a side note: go see Serenity. It's bloody brilliant! Oh, and keep up with my goings-on at my LJ: http://www.livejournal.com/users/pern_dragon/ Cheers!

Chapter 40- A Kiss Is Not Just a Kiss

Hermione woke early New Year’s Day, even though she had been up late reading. Dressing briskly, she hoped that everyone else would be having a lie-in, so she wouldn’t have to face them after the previous night’s encounter with Colin. Peeking into the common room, she saw that only one other person was there: Luna. The dotty blonde was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, toasting bread on a long fork.

Sidling into the room, Hermione sat at the table and served up a dish of porridge. Luna pulled the bread to her face and inspected it closely. Clearing her throat, Hermione ventured, “You know, you don’t have to toast it yourself. There’s toast available over here.”

Luna smiled blankly at her and poked the fork back toward the fire. “I know. I just like it fresh.” After a moment of awkward silence, Luna brought the toast close to her face and sniffed. “Perfect.” She took a bite off one corner and munched contentedly, while Hermione stared at her, not quite sure what to say.

Luna said nothing more, and Hermione focused on eating, so the room was silent except for the crackling of the fire. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Luna spun on the carpet and brushed the crumbs from her jumper, remarking, “Colin likes you.”

Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice and coughed, spluttering into her napkin. After a few beats of clearing her throat and regaining normal breathing ability, during which Luna gazed serenely at her with her bulging eyes, Hermione rasped, “What are you talking about? We’re friends.”

Luna nodded sagely. “True. But he likes you more than that. He’s in my year. He talks about you a lot in classes. Thinks you’re a brilliant witch.”

Flushing uncomfortably, Hermione demurred, “Oh, that’s different. He may admire my abilities, but that doesn’t mean he likes me.”

Luna tilted her head. “You left early last night. You weren’t here to hear him talking about how much he enjoyed kissing you. I heard him telling Neville. He was disappointed that you rushed away so quickly. Seems he wanted a chance to spend more time with you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror at Luna’s matter-of-fact recital. Oh, no. Not now. For mercy’s sake!

Suddenly, the porridge she had eaten sat queasily in her stomach. Swallowing hard, she stood and headed back toward her room. As she reached the doorway, Luna called out a cheerful, “Bye!” completely oblivious to the torment she had inflicted on Hermione.

It wasn’t until dinner that evening, when Hermione was forced by hunger to leave the sanctuary of her room, that she saw anyone else. If she thought people had been lazy and relaxed after Christmas, they were doubly so after the late hours of the party the night before. Several people were just sitting in the common room in their pyjamas and robes, unwilling even to expend the energy to get dressed. Fortunately, Luna had returned to her Tower, so she wasn’t there to spout off about Hermione and Colin. Unfortunately, Colin himself was there, surreptitiously watching Hermione from across the room.

Hermione nodded in return of the greetings sent her way, tensed and wary, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She sat down near Ginny and Harry, glancing around the room. Serving up her dinner, she asked them, “Where’s Ron?”

Harry and Ginny exchanged amused grins and Ginny said, “With Susan. He’s eating dinner with her.”

Harry smirked and added, “They’re kind of inseparable right now. You missed it last night. Things got kind of hot and heavy with those two after midnight. Don’t worry, ‘Mione. I played your part and finally broke them up and dragged Ron to the dormitory. Ginny here had to escort Susan to her room. I swear, you’d have thought that they were stuck together with a Permanent Sticking Charm!” He ended his speech with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes.

Hermione smiled faintly. “Oh. That’s great, I guess. I was afraid things might turn into one big make-out session. Not sorry I left…” Inadvertently, her eyes flicked toward Colin, who hastily looked away. But, it served to confirm her fear that he was watching her. She closed her eyes wearily, sighing.

Ginny noticed the glance and quietly remarked, “Speaking of… Colin seems to be telling folks that you two made out.” She eyed Hermione shrewdly, head tilted to one side.

Hermione’s eyes flew open in indignation. Harry was grinning cheekily at her, trying to wolf whistle around a mouthful of bread. Shrilly, Hermione said, “We most certainly did not!”

Ginny nodded almost imperceptibly and continued. “So, what happened then?”

Hermione felt her cheeks growing hot. Breathing heavily through her nose, she leant forward and hissed, “I thought he was going to kiss my cheek, like at the cast party! But he kissed me! I mean, really kissed me!”

Ginny’s eyes widened in recognition of the magnitude of such an event. Aghast, she breathed, “Tongue?”

Hermione grimaced and nodded. Ginny gasped. Harry kept looking between them, puzzled by their extreme reactions. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a kiss.”

Both girls blanketed him with disgusted, withering glares. He cringed under the weight of their disapproval. “What?”

Ginny snapped, “Hermione doesn’t like Colin that way. He shouldn’t have done that.”

Harry blinked, bewildered. Shaking his head slowly, he murmured, “I swear I don’t get you girls sometimes. I thought you girls liked it when a bloke made the first move!”

As one, both girls drew themselves up regally and gazed haughtily down their noses at Harry. In a lofty tone, Ginny said, “Right, you fellows generally aren’t known for understanding the complexities of women. Don’t worry, dear, we’ve learnt to deal with the burden.”

Harry coloured at the insult to his masculine intelligence and frowned. Wrinkling his nose at Ginny, he muttered, “Hmph! I tell you, Colin’s likely better off being alone than trying to figure the likes of you folk out. Maybe I’d better warn the poor sod…” With that parting shot, Harry shoved away from the table and stalked off in high dudgeon, leaving the girls to discuss the problem.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Ginny ducked closer to Hermione and hissed, “Bloody hell! What if he finds out?”

Hermione’s brow furrowed and she cradled her face in her hands. In a whispered wail, she retorted, “I know! He’s going to be so angry when I tell him.”

Ginny’s brows shot to her hairline. “Tell him?” she squeaked. Wildly, she glanced around to see if anyone had heard her. Lowering her voice again, she gazed at Hermione in astonishment and said, “Don’t tell him!”

Hermione shot the younger girl a reproachful look and retorted, “Of course I have to tell him! If I don’t, it’ll be like lying. And we’re not supposed to keep things from each other. Besides, can you imagine how awful it would be if I did try to hide it from him and he found out somehow later? He’d never trust me again!”

Ginny closed her eyes in mute defeat. Slumping forward, she sighed gustily. “Bollocks!” Casting a weary glance at Hermione, she added, “I see your point.” Then, she narrowed her eyes and screwed up her mouth before adding, “You would have to pick someone so dangerously possessive, wouldn’t you?”

Hermione glared back at Ginny and taunted, “Oh, like you’re not?” She held the other girl’s indignant gaze until Ginny deflated and puckered her lip in a moue of petulance.

“Fine! You’re right.” Ginny sighed and her expression changed to one of pity. “I really wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, mate.”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair and breathed, “Tell me about it…” She glanced over at Colin, and he smiled tentatively at her. She flashed a wan smile back, unsure of how to handle the situation without hurting him and without giving him false hope. Then, she looked back at Ginny, who was regarding her with a mournful expression, and sighed. “I’m gonna’… go. I’ll see you later.”

Ginny nodded and Hermione retreated to her room, away from Colin’s watchful eyes.

Hermione remained in her room as much as possible over the next few days, waiting for Saturday night’s rehearsal. It was too unnerving to appear in the common room only to be watched. Even if she tried to study out there—with the rest of the Gryffindors who finally realized they had better get cracking on their holiday assignments—she found she couldn’t concentrate.

Saturday evening, she was hastily eating her dinner, anxious to head down to Snape’s quarters. Preoccupied with the thought that she would be seeing Snape again in minutes, she didn’t notice that Colin had quickly got to his feet when she left the table to go to her room. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she shrank her script and pocketed it, bounding to her door and excitedly wrenching it open. She started forward and almost immediately stepped back, eyes wide and mouth open in a surprised “o”.

“Hi, Hermione.” Colin was leaning against the doorjamb, attempting a winning smile, but his cheeks were pink and his lips were tight with nerves.

Blinking, Hermione choked out, “Oh! Hi, Colin.”

“Can I talk to you for a tick?” He shoved one hand in his pocket, tugging at his collar with the other.

Hermione felt trapped. Heart pounding, she stared dumbly at him. She knew she was blushing, and she hated herself for it. Feebly, she said, “Um, I can’t right now, Colin. Maybe later?”

He swallowed and set his jaw, stepping closer to her. “It shouldn’t take long…”

Hermione was conflicted: she didn’t want to let him get so close to her, perhaps giving him the mistaken impression that she wanted him, but she also didn’t want to back away, into her room, allowing him to really trap her inside it, and perhaps give him the mistaken impression that she wanted him alone in her room with her!

Desperately glancing down the corridor in the vain hope for rescue, she saw no one. Looking back at Colin, she saw he was only inches away from her, and he was staring at her mouth. Afraid of what his next move might be, she backed away, trying to circle around him a step. Unfortunately, he was canny, and intercepted her smoothly.

Hermione swallowed her rising sense of panic. Attempting a reasonable tone, she said, “We’ll just have to talk some other time. I have to go.”

Again, she tried to step past him, but he clasped her arm, stopping her. His expression was shyly winsome, and he murmured, “Was it really that bad?”

Utterly confused by his question, Hermione paused, frowning. “What?”

Glancing anywhere but at her, Colin stammered, “Kissing me. Was I that bad at it? You haven’t even spoken to me since then.”

Hermione felt a surge of guilt wash over her. Dammit! Not wanting to damage his self-esteem, she quickly blurted, “No! It wasn’t bad. There’s nothing wrong with the way you kiss, Colin…”

He interrupted her with a coaxing, “I bet I could still get better with more practice.”

Hermione mouthed wordlessly, dumbfounded. Taking the plunge into the silence, Colin continued, “I like you, okay? I really liked kissing you. And, I mean, you’re not with Harry anymore, and I thought there couldn’t be a better chance…”

Hermione made an inarticulate noise of protest, cutting him off. He looked at her imploringly, and she stared back at him, aghast.

Haltingly, she croaked, “Colin… I’m sorry… But, I don’t—think of you like that. It has nothing to do with your ability to kiss, honestly. I just…” She trailed off, feeling horrible at the way he ducked his head to hide his crushed expression, the way his shoulders sagged in defeat, and the way his grip on her arm loosened reluctantly. Softly, she added, “Can’t we just be friends?”

He turned away, dejected. Hermione took the opportunity to edge past him and close her door. She knew she was late, but she couldn’t just leave the poor fellow there like that! Hesitantly, she queried, “Colin? Are you going to be okay?”

He nodded slowly, unwilling to look at her. Stuffing both hands in his pockets, he shrugged half-heartedly and mumbled, “Yeah. Sure, Hermione. I’ll be fine. Sorry to bother you.”

Grimacing and railing inwardly, she lightly touched his arm and said, “I’m sorry. I still want to be your friend. We can still talk later some time, but I really do have to go…”

He shrugged her off and tossed his head. His cheeks were bright red, and his eyes were glassy, but he said, “It’s okay. Go on. I’ll see you later.”

Hermione wavered with appeasing his self-esteem and dashing off to see Snape. Finally, she shook herself and flashed an apologetic smile at Colin. “Right, then. Bye.” With that, she spun and hurried down the corridor and through the common room, already late for her meeting with Snape.

She flung distracted responses over her shoulder to several greetings as she charged through the common room and out the portrait hole. Rushing through the deserted corridors, she worried about Snape’s reaction to her tardiness. How on earth was she to explain?

Down in the dungeon, Snape was sitting comfortably in front of his fire, reading, eagerly anticipating Hermione’s arrival. He, too, was feeling the effects of not even being able to see her from afar during meals, and he found himself reading the same paragraph over and over, unable to comprehend its meaning. Glancing again at the clock, he noted that it was almost time for her to arrive. Deciding that he should meet her in his office, he shot to his feet and strode through his lab, settling himself at his desk, where he perched on the edge of the chair, full of pent-up nervous energy. Flicking his wand at the office door, he opened it, worried that Draco might engage Hermione again. If so, he should be able to hear it with the door open.

The clock ticked closer to 6:30. Snape’s fingers drummed restlessly on the desk, his ears straining to hear her footsteps approaching. When he realized that he was holding his breath in his attempt to hear her, he exhaled heavily, shaking his head. As the second hand crept inexorably around the clock to mark the time, anxiety built within him. It’s not like Hermione to be anything but punctual… When it was exactly 6:30, Snape blinked incredulously at the clock, unable to believe that she was actually late. She’s never been late before. Unreasonable panic trickling like ice through his veins, he stood and crossed to his open door, peering into the corridor, stunned to see it empty.

Falling back a step within the room, he tried vainly to compose himself. Forcing his rapid, shallow breaths to even out, he clenched and relaxed his hands, swallowing hard. Get a grip on yourself! For Merlin’s sake, so she’s a little late. It’s not the end of the world! Shaking himself like a dog shedding water, he ran a hand through his lank hair and exhaled gustily. Shake it off. You’re paranoid.

He forced himself to sit at his desk again, trying to avoid looking at the clock. That taunting voice within him insisted, She’s Head Girl, and a Know-It-All. What could possibly have made her late? For an appointment… with you? He scowled, jaw tight. You haven’t seen each other for days, and she’s not even here on time now? The voice was oily with malicious amusement, and Snape vehemently pushed it away.

There could be any number of reasons why she’s late. Perhaps another Gryffindor needed her help as Head Girl, or she lost track of time studying…

The mocking laughter within his head stopped his excuses. Angry at himself, he stalked back to his desk and yanked the chair back, flinging his body into the seat. He leant his head in his hands, elbows on the desk, fighting the dual waves of worry and insecurity. Finally, he heard the echo of swift footsteps on the stones, and his hands dropped to the desktop, his stormy scowl turned toward the open door.

Preoccupied as she was, Hermione still remembered to be vigilant when she descended the dungeon stairs, in case Draco was about. Hand clenched tightly around her wand in her pocket, she glanced around the corridor, listening for any indication that the Slytherins were nearby. Peering anxiously down the corridor, she thought she could see light from Snape’s office door. He’s waiting for me. Her stomach roiled uncomfortably as she contemplated arriving late for a scheduled appointment.

Jogging down the corridor, she lurched to a stop inside his doorway, frozen by his black expression. This was not the Severus she had come to know. There was no welcoming warmth. This was pure Professor Snape venom, aimed at her. Meekly stepping forward, she gasped, “I’m sorry I’m late…”

Snape stood brusquely and waved an imperious hand at her, cutting her off. Flicking his wand at the door, he shut it, jerking his head toward the door to his quarters. Curtly, he snapped, “Then, hurry up.”

Hermione nodded and hastily crossed to the door, her cheeks flushing in shame. Unwilling to even glance back at him, not wanting to see his anger, she pushed on through his lab, into his sitting room. As soon as she heard the door shut behind her, she whirled, nervously backing away, blurting, “I’ll get the stuff right away.” With that, she spun again and sprinted to the bathroom, where she gathered the hair products and took a moment to try to compose herself.

When she emerged, Snape had seated himself in his chair instead of the ottoman, facing away from her. Feeling like she was treading a minefield, wondering when she would step on one and cause an explosion, she swallowed hard and approached him, scanning the tight set of his shoulders and the agitated drumming of his fingers on the armrest. Not sure what to say, she dropped the items on the side table, standing behind him. He glanced at the clatter, but didn’t catch her eye.

She picked the brush up in trembling fingers and started working on his hair. As she carefully picked through the snarls, she ventured, “I’m sorry I was late.”

He snorted. His voice cold, he retorted, “Far be it from me to think you might show up on time to our appointment.” He paused, and Hermione cast about for something to say. Before she could figure out anything, he continued, “Miss Granger is usually prompt. In fact, I can only remember one time when Miss Granger was not on time for an appointment with a professor. Of course,” he said, his lips twisting, “Miss Granger was snogging Mr. Potter in a corridor at that time. Certainly such wouldn’t be the case this time.”

Hermione had brushed his hair back and had begun smoothing the pomade through it by this point. At his sneering remark, she paused, stunned at how close he had come to hitting upon her secret. She knew she had to say something, and she knew she had to tell him, so she just dove in headfirst, hoping she’d be able to come up for air soon.

“Um… no, of course not. Actually, it was Colin—only, he didn’t snog me this time,” she added hastily, in response to the instant stiffening of Snape’s posture. She gasped and jumped when Snape’s hand snapped up and painfully gripped her wrist, stopping her ministrations.

His head turned slowly to pin her with an accusing glare, his voice a strained hiss. “This time?”

Oh, shite. Land mine!

He looked like a Hungarian Horntail about to breathe fire. Back-pedalling frantically, Hermione blurted, “Well, you were there at the Christmas party. You saw it.” She knew she hadn’t been very convincing, especially when his eyes narrowed and she felt the breeze in her head again, signalling his invasion using Legilimency. In her desperate attempts to not think about Colin kissing her, all she could think about was just that. Snape’s nostrils flared at the images of every time Colin had kissed her, especially the deep one from New Year’s Eve.

Hermione’s eyes widened, but Snape’s brows lowered so much that he was glaring at her through dark slits. Vainly, Hermione wrenched her eyes from his, cutting off the spell, but apparently Snape had seen enough. As she glanced wildly about, she saw his hand wrapped around her wrist, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. Gaining awareness of how painful it was, she quavered, “You’re hurting me.”

Snape’s hand sprung open like a steel trap being released, and Hermione instantly dropped the brush and cradled her wrist in her other hand. Daring to glance at Snape, she saw mute misery and fury swirling in his eyes. After a beat, he ground out, “Turnabout is fair play.”

Blinking in confusion, Hermione felt goaded to reply, “I haven’t touched you!”

In a savage whisper, Snape bit out, “No. You kissed that imbecile!”

Comprehension dawning, Hermione closed her eyes in guilt, but smarted under the unjust accusation. Trying to clarify, to prove her innocence, she said, “I did not. That imbecile kissed me. I had no idea, and I certainly didn’t want it!”

Rising like a shot out of a cannon, Snape towered over her, roaring, “I saw it! You let him do it! His bloody tongue was in your mouth, Hermione! And you didn’t do anything about it!”

Hermione stared up at his contorted face. Indignant anger started bubbling to the surface, mixing with the shame of knowing that there was a grain of truth in his statement. Still, she wasn’t willing to shoulder all of the blame, and she felt bad enough about it already. She still had to live in the same Tower as Colin, and she had shot him down pretty hard. Never one to handle such unfamiliar emotional anguish with aplomb, she lashed out, trying to shift the focus away from her self-blame.

Voice rising to match Snape’s, Hermione yelled, “Speaking of which… How dare you invade my privacy like that?”

Snape actually jerked back, brows climbing to his hairline. Stunned, he rasped, “What?!”

Planting her hands on her hips, she scowled at Snape. “You! You just burst into my mind, without any warning, or asking for permission! That’s an invasion of my privacy and an abuse of my trust.”

Snape seemed to rise up, his jaw actually dropping in incredulity. He looked about to explode again, but he suddenly froze, then spun away from her. His shoulders trembled, and then he finally deflated. Hermione took a deep breath and marvelled at her audacity, trying to turn the tables on him. Snape slowly turned back, his face cold and impassive.

In a deadly low voice, one that sent a shiver of dread up her spine, he said, “That is not the issue here.”

May as well be hanged for the sheep as the lamb… Tilting her chin up defiantly, Hermione retorted, “It wasn’t until you violated me.”

He inhaled sharply at her words, eyes widening. His hands clenched at his sides, and Hermione tensed in wary fear. His eyes closed, and his whole being seemed to be wrestling with something huge. After a moment, his hands lifted to run through his hair, and he stopped in mid-swipe. Snapping his eyes open, he glared at the pomade on one hand, his lips twisting in a snarl.

Darting a baleful glance at Hermione, he growled, “Finish with this, and let’s get to the Hall.” He dropped to the chair again, boiling rage personified.

Hermione bent to retrieve the brush, and almost collapsed from the weakness of her knees. Gingerly, without daring to speak, she finished doing his hair, wanting to pull it to give vent to her outraged feelings, but not daring to do so, cowed by Snape’s wrath.

Quickly, she finished his hair and stepped away. Snape stood stiffly, turning to her. She gazed back at him, hating that they were fighting again, but completely at a loss about how to fix things. After a moment, his lip curled disdainfully, and he sneered, “Daring to meet my eye? Aren’t you afraid I’ll ‘violate’ you again?” His voice was trenchant as he hurled her word back at her.

The shot hit home, for Hermione did feel as if she may have overreacted, using such an extreme term for his action, but he wasn’t making things better by being so hateful about it! He should realize that if she exaggerated a bit, it was just to get her point across. But, no! Hermione gazed at him with a mixture of reproach and contempt. Straightening with as much dignity as she could muster, she shut her lips firmly, not willing to reply.

Snape made a noise that was a cross between a hiss and a snort. Tossing his head, he flicked his fingers at the door. Hermione regally turned and strode to it, exiting before he had caught up with her. Determined to not look back, she trekked down the corridor to the stairs. However, her ears strained to hear the clicking of Snape’s boot heels on the stones. When she was almost to the stairs, she finally heard him shut the door to his quarters.

Climbing the stairs, she fought to keep back the tears that insisted on welling up. She had rehearsal to get through, and if she couldn’t pretend she was fine, then there would be awkward questions, none of which she wanted to deal with on top of everything else!

She hurried to the Hall, only realizing once she got there that she was early. Usually, she and Snape made the most of their time together preparing for rehearsal, but this time, they had finished early, even with her late arrival. The doors to the Hall were closed, and she whirled around, looking down the corridor to see if anyone else was coming yet.

Snape appeared at the top of the dungeon stairs, but stopped at the sight of Hermione gazing down the corridor, alone outside the doors to the Hall. He stared for a long moment, still boiling with anger. I’ll just wait in the staff room until Albus has the Hall ready. Having come to that decision, he stepped into the corridor. After a couple of steps, he paused, distracted by a noise from below. Returning to the stairs, he listened carefully.

The faint echo of footsteps wafted up to him, and he heard a cross voice saying, “So what if I’m not in the scene tonight? I told you, I want to keep an eye on that Granger bitch. Look, I really don’t care if you come or not. You’re not needed, so suit yourself.”

Draco! Snape whipped his eyes back to the lone figure of Hermione waiting down the corridor. Draco was apparently mounting the dungeon stairs, and Snape warred with himself about whether he should secret himself in the staff room, as he had planned, or not, keeping a weather eye out for possible altercations between Draco and the Gryffindors. His anger voiced a mutinous protest at doing anything for Hermione, after what had just transpired, but his better self triumphed, reminding him that he still had a duty to keep students safe—never mind the fact that, even though he was still furious, the thought of any harm coming to Hermione sent an icy swirl of panic to his gut.

He quickly strode down the corridor, grimly noting that Hermione nervously looked away, worrying her hands. However, he did not go all the way to the Hall doors; instead, he paused at the side corridor leading to the staff room and the staff entrance to the Hall, leaning stiffly against the wall, arms crossed, scowling blackly.

Draco appeared at the top of the stairs, pausing to frown when he saw both Hermione and Snape waiting in the corridor already. As he slowly sauntered toward them, Harry, Ginny, and Parvati came into view, descending the stairs from the Gryffindor Tower. They were chatting blithely as they came, and Hermione felt a surge of relief that she would have her friends to focus on, to serve as a buffer between her and a livid Snape. A mere moment after they appeared, Justin arrived from the Hufflepuff quarters. He waved cheerily at the Gryffindors as he joined them.

Soon, all of the students reached the doors, and Trelawney surprised everyone—especially Snape, who had been so intent on his injured feelings that he missed the sound of her approach—by popping out from the side corridor. As the students were awkwardly returning her greetings, they were distracted by someone else pelting down the stairs from Gryffindor Tower.

As one, heads turned to see Colin, face pink with exertion and embarrassment, rushing down the steps. Breathless, he gasped, “Oh, good! You haven’t started, then?”

Hermione’s throat seemed to constrict. Eyes wide, she glanced from Colin, who was obviously attempting nonchalance, to Snape, who had gone even paler with hatred and rage, glaring at the boy with a look that seemed to scream Avada Kedavra.

Parvati turned to Colin in surprise. “You’re not required for this rehearsal. What are you doing here?”

Colin stammered, “Oh, uh, just wanted to see things as they go along. You know, keep up with it all…” As he trailed off, the doors opened, startling everyone. Dumbledore beamed out at them.

“Come along! Time to begin.” He threw the doors wide and gestured for them all to enter. Snape stalked over to the group, garnering a few baffled, wary glances. The students hung back for Trelawney to go first, then Draco pushed ahead, casting a contemptuous look over them. As Colin passed Snape, the man’s eyes narrowed even more, making Hermione’s heart skip a beat in fear of what he might do. But, he stayed as still as a statue as they filed past, Ginny casting a curious look over her shoulder at Hermione once they were inside the Hall.

While Dumbledore began fixing the sets for the start of “All I Ask of You,” Ginny gazed worriedly at Hermione, jerking her head first at Colin in the house, then at Snape’s retreating back as he slid into the shadows. Raising her eyebrows in query, she sidled closer to an obviously upset Hermione.

Hermione nodded mournfully and Ginny made a silent moue of sympathy, draping her arm over Hermione’s shoulders in comfort. Ducking her head so her hair shook forward to shield her face, Ginny whispered, “It’ll all work out. Don’t worry.”

Harry piped up, “Hey, what are you two talking about?”

The two girls looked up guiltily. Then, Ginny flashed a smirk and claimed, “I was just reminding Hermione that you’re taken, thank you very much, so she should stick to acting up here!”

The other Gryffindors chuckled and Hermione flashed a shaky smile at the redhead, grateful for the ruse. Playing along, she added, “She threatened me with a Bat-Bogey Hex if I got too into things!”

More laughter followed her assertion, and Dumbledore smiled benignly as he joined them again. Dryly, he said, “Now, if you young people are all finished marking your territory, may we begin what we came here for, please?”

Snorting and mumbling apologies, Harry and Hermione took their places, and the others sat in the house. Dumbledore turned to look out into the darkness. “Severus, where are you?”

He seemed to materialize in the darkness, his pale face appearing from the shadows as he stepped forward, replying, “Here, Headmaster.”

Gesturing for him to come onstage, Dumbledore continued, “In the script, it says that you appear from behind the statue. Now, I don’t want you to have to stay there while we work out the scene, so feel free to remain in the wings or in the house until it’s your cue. We’ll also have to take some time to go through the set change at the end and effect the fall of the chandelier. Oh! And you won’t mind riding the statue back to the top of the proscenium, will you?”

Jaw tight, Snape murmured, “I have every faith in your abilities, sir.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Good to know, my boy…” He turned away, and missed seeing Snape rolling his eyes at the term of endearment. “Very well! Let’s begin.” He lifted his hands, descending from the stage, while Snape slunk off into the wing.

Harry and Hermione embraced, as they had been at the end of the previous rehearsal. Harry released Hermione and grasped her shoulders, directing her attention to his face as he began reciting the beginning of “All I Ask of You.” Sliding his hands down her arms, he held her hands in his, until he got to “Let daylight dry your tears,” at which point he gently brushed his fingers over her cheek. Hermione shyly turned away from his caress, facing the audience, and Harry stepped to her right side, one arm around her back and cupping her far elbow as he said, “I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you…”

Hermione stepped forward, wrapping her arms around herself and closing her eyes as she said, “Say you love me every waking moment.” She turned her face to glance back over her right shoulder as she said, “Turn my head with talk of summertime.” Harry darted forward, smiling, to her left, and cupped her chin, turning her to face him. Hermione opened her eyes and clasped her hand over his against her face as she continued, “Say you need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That’s all I ask of you.”

Harry took her hand and pulled her downstage, looking out into the audience, once again positioning himself at her shoulder and corralling her in his arms. Gesturing out over the audience, he said, “Let me be your shelter. Let me be your light.” Wrapping his arms securely around her, he continued, “You’re safe: no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.”

Leaning back into his embrace, Hermione spun out of his grasp, pirouetting as she said, “All I want is freedom, a world with no more night.” Then, she stopped short, gazing at Harry, adding, “And you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me.”

Harry bounded across the stage to her, taking her hands and twirling her as he said, “Then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude.” He spun her into his embrace, saying, “Say you need me with you here beside you.” Then, he whirled her back out to stretch their clasped hands between them. Dropping her hand, he placed it on his heart and bowed, saying, “Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that’s all I ask of you.”

Hermione curtseyed in response to his bow, smiling playfully, patently delighted with his impromptu dance moves. Playing coy, she retreated, turning away from him as she said, “Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you.” Peering back over her shoulder at him, she saw him open his arms to her, and she spun to face him.

Together, they advanced to meet in the middle as they both said, “Share each day with me, each night, each morning…” Harry gripped her hands and pulled her close to him, trapping her hands against his chest between them as he wrapped his arms around her torso.

Hermione looked up at him and said, “Say you love me…”

To which Harry instantly retorted, “You know I do,” lifting one hand to cup her cheek.

They stared into each other’s eyes as they recited in unison, “Love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

And, finally, they were to… the kiss. The momentum they had built through the scene suddenly came to an awkward, screeching halt. After a beat, they both blinked nervously, glancing into the house, where they knew Ginny sat watching. Both flushing, they avoided each other’s eyes for a moment, as Harry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his messy hair. Hermione smoothed her clothes and glanced back at Harry, attempting a businesslike manner. She touched his arm to get his attention again, and he started. Nodding sheepishly, they took their position again, reciting, “Anywhere you go, let me go too. Love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

Again, they paused awkwardly, releasing each other. Hermione stepped back from Harry and drew a hand to her throat in startled chagrin, saying, “I must go! They’ll wonder where I am.” Extending her hand toward Harry, she continued, “Wait for me, Raoul.”

Harry reached toward her in return as he said, “Christine, I love you.”

With an excited air, Hermione leapt across the stage to Harry, clasping his hands between them, saying, “Order your fine horses! Be with them at the door!”

Harry tucked her against his side, saying, “And soon, you’ll be beside me.”

Hermione laid her hand against his chest and retorted, “You’ll guard me and you’ll guide me…” Then, Hermione stepped away from Harry, pulling him to follow her, and they exited the stage.

From the opposite wing, Snape skulked onstage, scowling fiercely. But before he could take his place and begin his lines, Dumbledore interrupted, calling out, “Just a moment, if you please, Severus. I want to pause to allow the students time to write their blocking in their scripts before we move on.” Snape stopped, nodding sharply at the headmaster, crossing his arms and glaring out into the house.

His gaze travelled over the audience, pausing first on the platinum head of Draco Malfoy. That boy is going to be trouble. Damn him and his arrogance! You’d think he might have learnt some humility after Lucius was imprisoned, but no. He’s not even needed here tonight. Well… so long as he keeps his prejudiced mouth shut… His eyes narrowed as they skipped away from the sullen blond. Unfortunately, that simply brought his gaze to Colin, who was sitting with his elbows on his knees, and his chin cupped in his hands, staring raptly at the stage. His whole demeanour was one of wistful adoration.

Snape’s jaw clenched. Exhaling harshly through his nose, he fought to stay still, and not lash out at the infatuated youth. Wounded, bitterness surged through him. How could she? With that dunderhead? He’s so insipid! I thought Potter was bad, but Creevey? And he’s still a child! At that thought, the irritating voice in his head reminded him that Hermione was only a year ahead of the boy. Shut up! Blast! She’s not a child. Not now… Bloody hell, what am I doing, defending her? She just betrayed me! I never should have let her worm her way into my heart. She’s toying with my emotions…

He shot a dark look into the wing, where she and Harry were busy scribbling in their scripts. Responding to the connection they shared, Hermione looked up at him almost instantly, eyes wide with trepidation. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before she tore her gaze away and looked down again, abashed. The sting of it sent Snape into another tirade.

There! See her? She won’t even look at me anymore! I don’t understand; it’s not like I haven’t used Legilimency on her before. She even welcomed it! How dare she accuse me of violating her? I promised her I would never hurt her, and she says I violated her? In all the time we spent together, and everything we explored, not once did I push her. I never did anything that she didn’t want.

She begged me to open up! I did. I trusted her. I let her in! I shared things with her that I have never shared with anyone, and she kissed someone else! If she truly hadn’t wanted it, she would have resisted. She would have pulled away, lambasted him, hell, even hexed him!

But she didn’t. She didn’t do any of that. She even spent time with him instead of coming to see me. We had an appointment. Practically the only time we can spend together alone, and she didn’t even care enough to be there on time!

I thought she loved me. She swore she loved me! But she kissed him, and didn’t even have the shame to apologize! She just… attacked me. Like I was the one at fault. She’s the one who said we should be honest and share with one another, but I make one simple dip into her mind to get to the bottom of the situation and she acts like I attacked her! I can’t understand it… His whirling thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore’s voice.

“All right then. Severus, we’re ready whenever you are. You may just step behind the statue to start.”

Snape nodded and took his place in the shadow of the statue. Before he began, he gazed into the wing again, seeing Hermione glancing worriedly into the house. She must be looking for that idiot boy. Why else would she be so concerned about what’s going on in the audience? His sense of betrayal reared up, flooding his soul with pain. Simply reciting his lines, he gave voice to the Phantom’s disillusion, his own misery and anger evident in the suppressed shaking of his voice. Quietly at first, he spoke.

“I gave you my music... Made your song take wing… And now, how you’ve repaid me: denied me and betrayed me…” As he spoke, he slowly reached around the statue, letting his hand become visible, gripping the stone. Then, almost as if he were pulling himself from behind the statue, he emerged, head bowed, but looking to the wing.

Both Harry and Hermione were staring at him in awe. Hermione’s hand rose to cover her mouth, and her eyes were suddenly glassy and bright.

Snape stepped forward, leaning disconsolately against the statue, propping himself up as he continued, his voice rippling with disdain, “He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing…” Heaving himself away from the statue, he staggered forward, where he dropped to his knees, palms flat on the stage, head drooping as he croaked, “Christine… Christine…”

In the wing, Harry crashed back to reality and jostled Hermione’s elbow, reminding her of their lines. Faintly, they both said, “Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you.”

As they spoke, Snape clapped his hands to his ears, shaking his head violently. When they continued, “Share each day with me, each night, each morning…” he slid his hands up over his hair, covering his head with his arms, curling forward, and rocking back and forth as if in agony. Then, when they had trailed off, he tore his hands from his head, and, with a roar, slammed his fists on the stage, snapping his head up and glaring out to the house, eyes alight with a manic fire, saying, “You will curse the day you did not do…” As he paused, he lurched to his feet, grabbing the statue and climbing onto it, gesticulating wildly and continuing, “all that the Phantom asked of you!”

Once Snape was wrapped around the stone, Dumbledore broke the horribly tense atmosphere by stepping forward and announcing, “Pause there, please, Severus. I need to work the set changes, and the others need to take their places. Are you comfortable?”

Snape shot an aggrieved glare at the headmaster, and Dumbledore smiled. “Very well, then. Just sit tight until I can lift you to the top of the proscenium.” With that, Dumbledore began shifting the sets back to the opera house stage, and the rest of the cast hurried out to take their places for the “curtain call” at the end of Act One. As they were emerging onstage, Dumbledore nodded at Snape in warning and began the statue’s ascent to the top centre of the proscenium arch.

When Snape—on the statue—was back at the top of the stage opening, and the other actors were taking their bows, Dumbledore said, “Here we go. Severus, your last line is the cue. Now, everyone, don’t fret. I have everything under control.” Of course, immediately on the tails of that, everyone glanced upward apprehensively. Dumbledore was pointing his wand at the chandelier, making it rock and shake.

Snape nodded his head sharply and barked, “Go!” Then, with a soft, “Now,” Dumbledore flicked his wand at the chandelier, and the whole thing lurched down, falling over the orchestra pit, careening straight for Hermione.

Even though she had complete faith in the headmaster’s abilities, it was hard for her to simply watch the huge crystal piece looming closer, on a collision course with her. As it crashed at her feet, she shrieked, jumping and hiding her face, turning away.

Snape, from his vantage point above, could see the finesse that Dumbledore was exercising in the chandelier’s controlled descent. Still, as he watched it rushing toward Hermione, his grip tightened on the statue, his body bowing forward, adrenaline surging with his rising sense of panic. As it got closer to her, he found himself whipping out his wand, ready to cast a deflection spell if necessary. When she shrieked, his heart leapt to his throat, and he had to force himself to breathe, seeing that she was unharmed.

A murmur rippled through the students present. Heaving a sigh, he scanned the group, seeing Harry emerging from the wing, startled concern on his face. Scowling, Snape turned his gaze from the boy, sweeping through the house. He saw Draco smirking, chuckling to himself, apparently amused by Hermione’s fear. Lips thinning, he looked past the Slytherin to see Colin watching, hands clenched tight on the seatback in front of him, eyes wide with terror for Hermione. At that sight, Snape’s hurt and anger boiled back up, ridiculing himself for preparing to save her, after she had betrayed him so casually.

Dumbledore was onstage, soothing the cast members, chiding them for their fear, reminding them that he wouldn’t allow anything to harm them. Hermione was the centre of attention, since she had been the farthest forward on the apron, and the chandelier had crashed literally at her feet. She was smiling shakily at the headmaster, apologizing for her reaction, and trying to calm her indignant friends.

“I’m okay! Really, Harry, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. It won’t frighten me like that again. I’ll be ready for it next time.”

Dryly, Dumbledore said, “Well, don’t anticipate it too much, my dear. It wouldn’t do for you to be blasé about it.” His eyes twinkled at her, and she smiled and nodded.

“I understand, sir. I’ll be fine.”

Dumbledore clapped an approving hand on her shoulder, saying, “Well then, in that case, let’s go back to the start again and run it through. Places, everyone!”

As the students scrambled to their spots, Dumbledore began shifting the sets again. Looking up, he peered at Snape on the statue. “Hold tight, Severus! I’m bringing you down now.”

He gently wafted the statue back to its place onstage, and Snape hunkered down behind it. When Dumbledore peeked around the stone, he queried, “Severus?”

Glaring sullenly up at his employer, Snape growled, “I’ll remain here this time.”

Nodding, Dumbledore retreated to the stage again, calling, “Ready? Begin!”

Snape crouched behind the statue, staring into the shadows at the back of the stage, unwilling to watch Hermione acting so lovey-dovey with Harry. And, he didn’t want to look into the house either, only to see another ever-present Slytherin thorn in his side and Hermione’s latest besotted swain, staring after her.

On his cue, he crept out from behind the statue, once again reciting his lines, but this time, avoiding looking into the wings. He focused on staying balanced as he rode the statue up to the proscenium, and fought to remain impassive as the chandelier once again plummeted threateningly toward Hermione. When he was being lowered back to the stage for their third run-through, Dumbledore spoke up.

“All right. This is the last run-through of this scene tonight. Therefore, as we have done before, I want you to perform it to the best of your abilities, including timing, gestures, inflection, everything. That means,” and he looked at Harry and Hermione, “you must at least stage a kiss, as that is in the stage directions.” Harry and Hermione flushed awkwardly but nodded. “And,” he continued, turning to Snape, “I would like to hear the Phantom’s laughter as he tampers with the chandelier.” Snape inclined his head gravely, staring straight ahead. “Excellent. Now, I am going to play the music box, so I can make sure I have the timing down for the set changes. You may sing if you wish, but you do not have to. That will be addressed later.”

He stepped off the stage, fishing the music box out from within his robes. Adjusting the dials and toggles, he smiled in satisfaction before looking up at the cast. “Is everyone clear on the expectations?” Murmurs of assent met his query. “Good.” He whirled his wand once more, setting the stage back to its necessary scene. “Places, please!”

Harry and Hermione scrambled to their spot, embracing again. Snape slunk back to the statue, hiding behind it. Music flooded the Hall, and Harry and Hermione smoothly went through the scene. Hermione sang lightly, and Harry wavered between singing and reciting.

As they came to Hermione’s line, “Say you love me,” Snape was behind the statue, twitching with growing agitation. Like a tongue will seek out the sore tooth, he felt morbidly drawn to watching them. Quietly standing, he plastered himself against the statue and peered around it, just in time to see them saying, “Love me, that’s all I ask of you.” On the tail of that line, Harry and Hermione inched closer, closing their eyes and pressing a chaste kiss on each other’s lips.

Bile rose in Snape’s throat at the sight. His breath came fast and shallow, and he panted through his nose, his teeth clenched. The pair separated, and continued with the swell of music, “Anywhere you go, let me go too. Love me, that’s all I ask of you.”

As the music trailed off, Harry ducked his head and kissed Hermione again. Her eyes flew open, clearly taken aback. Behind the statue, Snape, also unprepared for another kiss, gripped his hands into fists so tight that his nails dug crescents into his flesh. After a short beat, Harry pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. Hermione could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks, and she made a mental note to berate Harry later for surprising her like that.

The music changed, and Hermione gratefully backed out of Harry’s embrace. They continued with the rest of their scene, finally scurrying off into the wing. In the heavy pause that followed their exit, Snape took a deep breath, mastering himself for his part.

He oozed out from behind the statue, his voice shaky with incredulous pain, sounding fragile as he sang. When he collapsed to the stage, croaking, “Christine… Christine…” his voice broke altogether, and what sounded like a choked sob issued from his throat.

Hermione was in the wing, staring in guilty horror at the emotional wreck that was Severus Snape, singing the Phantom’s betrayal with an all-too-frightening realism. Harry felt horridly uncomfortable watching him, and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he hunched up his shoulders, glancing around. When it was their cue again, he hastily joined Hermione.

She watched, fascinated, as Snape writhed and groaned during their lines, shrinking back as he exploded, his voice once again robust as he roared, “You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!” He mounted the statue, and it began rising swiftly as the rest of the stage shifted. Hermione rushed out to take her place with the others, shivering at the demented sound of Snape’s laughter mixing with the tinkling of the shaking chandelier.

Then, at the drum beat, Snape bellowed, “Go!” and the chandelier plunged toward the stage, falling to the shrieking sound of the music, once again crashing at Hermione’s feet, making her cringe, even though she knew she was safe.

Dumbledore bounced up and shut the music box, clapping enthusiastically. “Excellent! I say, everything just keeps getting better and better! Marvellous work, everyone.” He stood beaming at the cast, until a pointed cough from above directed his attention to Snape, who was still astride the statue, glaring down at them in irritation. Dumbledore snapped his fingers and yelped, “Oh! Of course. My apologies, Severus. Here we go…” With that, he pointed his wand at them and lowered the statue and Snape to the stage.

Stiffly, Snape inclined his head and muttered, “My thanks, Headmaster.”

“Certainly, Severus.” Dumbledore turned his attention to the rest of the group. “In case you hadn’t noticed yet, tomorrow we will begin having meals in the Great Hall again. Of course, term starts Monday, and your classmates will be returning tomorrow. Next Tuesday evening, we will be running through all of Act One, including the songs. So, I suggest that you all revise your scripts, for your lines, your blocking, and your cues. If you would be so kind as to spread the word to your fellow cast members who were not needed here tonight, I would appreciate it. The notice will be posted on the notice board as usual. Now, run along. And thank you all for your continued hard work.”

The cast exited the stage, joining Draco and Colin in the aisle in the house. Trelawney floated out of the staff entrance, which was still secreted to one side, and Dumbledore began transfiguring the Hall back to normal. Colin surged up to Hermione, expression anxious, and said, “Are you all right? I tell you, it looked terrifying from out here, that huge thing crashing at you…”

Hermione, still distressed by the whole evening, paused, unsure of how to react, and afraid of getting too near the hatefully smirking Slytherin a few paces ahead.

Snape, incensed, stalked past the rest of the cast on his way out. He passed Draco, and the boy sidled closer to the Gryffindors. His low drawling voice mocking them, he said, “It’s a right shame the bloody thing didn’t fall on her. We’d be rid of a useless Mudblood if it had…”

The students froze in shock at his disgusting taunt, sure that Snape would round on Draco. Snape’s steps had slowed, and his posture jerked stiffly upright. But, he didn’t turn around. After a charged beat of silence, Colin puffed up, face red with indignation, and called, “Professor Snape! Draco just insulted Hermione again!”

Snape turned, eyes black slits as he regarded the students. Draco had frozen, worriedly glancing over his shoulder at his Head of House. Hermione didn’t dare look up at Snape, and kept her flushed face averted.

Bitterness pumped through Snape’s veins, and his voice was an icy murmur as he said, “I heard nothing.” A sick sort of triumph beat within him at the collective gasp of astonishment, and the stricken look in Hermione’s eyes as she finally gazed up at him. Jaw throbbing from clenching his teeth so hard, he cut an acid glance at Colin, who was staring at him. Lip curling, he added, “Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Creevey.”

Blinking in stunned outrage, Colin blurted, “For what?”

Snape stepped closer to the boy, leaning in menacingly as he hissed, “Nobody likes a tattletale. Be very careful whom you betray, boy.” With that, he swept a baleful glare over the assembled students, cutting a cold glance at Hermione, and spun on his heel. He gripped Draco’s robes and propelled him up the aisle before him. “Mr. Malfoy: back to the common room with you.”

The Slytherins disappeared through the door to the corridor, and the stunned observers broke out in excited mutterings. Hermione glanced around at the confused and indignant faces and felt overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Shaking her head, she batted at the hands reaching toward her in comfort and hurried up the aisle, struggling to hold back the tears until she was closeted in her room. Ignoring the confused calls from behind her, she ran up the stairs, her heart pounding painfully, and sobs clogging her throat.

When she reached her room, she flung herself on her bed, her heartbreak pouring forth in the torrent of tears that soaked her pillow and a consoling Crookshanks’s fur. Feeling utterly desolate, she wore herself out crying, vainly trying to think of some way to mend the breach between herself and Snape, and fell asleep fully clothed, exhausted by the turmoil in her soul.