A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 1: The Honors Project

Chapter 14: After Effects

Hermione had indeed gone back to class the next day. Her housemates were glad enough to see her--glad enough that Harry and Ron were all right as well, and scared enough by the rumors of Death Eaters at Hogsmeade--that they hadn't grumbled too much about the fifty points she'd lost them. "Besides," Ron said, "Harry'll win it back for us at Quidditch."

She was nervous, though, about returning to Potions. She knew Snape would be angry with her, and while McGonagall was so relieved to see Hermione up and around that she'd stopped casting disapproving frowns at her by lunchtime, Hermione didn't think Snape would be so easily distracted from the fact she'd disobeyed his explicit instructions.

As they entered, Draco Malfoy smirked and said, loudly, "Well, if it isn't our Head Girl. Head Girl, Honors Student, and now she wants to be School Hero. All you managed to do was nearly get yourself killed, Granger. You should have tried a little harder."

Hermione flushed, despite her resolve not to pay any attention to him, but Harry had to grab hold of Ron's arm to keep him from going after Draco.

From behind them, they heard a cold voice say, "Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, for wishing your classmate dead." Everyone turned to stare; nobody had seen Snape enter the room. For that matter, nobody had ever seen him take points from his own house.

"Well?" he raised an eyebrow. "Was there something else, or were the three of you planning on standing in the aisle for the duration of class today?" They hurried to their seats.

Since it was a Thursday, Hermione not only had to make it through class, but through her afternoon meeting with Snape, as well. As Harry and Ron cleared away their things and prepared to leave, Harry whispered, "I'm sure it'll be all right. If he'd wanted to take any more points off than McGonagall already did, he'd have done it by now."

Somehow she was not reassured.

She took a deep breath, and then moved to the front of the classroom. After the last student was gone, Snape looked up at her and said simply, "Shall we meet here, or in my office, Miss Granger?"

She looked at him blankly. "There's only the reading to discuss, so the office would be fine." He motioned for her to go ahead of him.

They took their accustomed seats, and then he began, "I don't imagine that you've managed much reading in the past couple of days. Did you finish the Rollins article as you'd planned?"

She looked at him then, wondering why on earth he hadn't yelled at her yet for what had happened. "Professor…" she started, not quite knowing what it was she wanted to say.

He sighed, and moved to the fire to put the kettle on. "I suppose you want to know when I'm going to rant about Gryffindors breaking rules and deduct several hundred points for your actions of Tuesday night?"

She nodded, having no idea where he was headed. He turned to face her, his black eyes fixing hers.

"While I know that Professor McGonagall has spoken to you on this subject, I am sure it will have had about as much effect as one of Mr. Longbottom's sleeping draughts. However, she has already deducted points from your house, and I…" he paused, but did not look away. "We have, Miss Granger, in the course of this study, treated each other like adults. I did not think you would have me change my opinion of you now."

She shook her head. Finally he turned away and took his seat.

"I am glad you are well. And while I suspect that I am doomed to disappointment on this count, I can only hope that you will one day learn your lesson before you are more seriously hurt."

He looked up, a glimmer of something crossing his face. "And that, Miss Granger, is as close to a rebuke as I have the energy to give this afternoon." She nodded.

"Was there anything else, or shall we turn to the Rollins?" he asked.

When he looked away she said, almost too softly for him to hear the words, "Thank you for sitting with me that night, Professor."

Looking at her, his eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he replied, "The Rollins, Miss Granger?" And they began their meeting.

Over the next week, things went back to normal. Neither Hermione nor Professor Snape had made any further mention of the night in the Forbidden Forest or its aftermath. Professor Dumbledore, however, asked her to his office one afternoon. Now that she'd had time to recover, he wanted to hear her story. ("Not that he doesn't know everything already," she thought to herself.)

Mostly, he wanted to see that she was all right--make sure she wasn't overly upset by what had happened. She described the events of that night, and when she got to the part about running towards Remus, she hesitated.

"What is it, child?" Dumbledore asked.

"I…I don't know exactly what happened then," she admitted. "I remember feeling a Dementor's hand on my shoulder, and somebody calling my name. What…would you tell me what happened, Sir?"

Dumbledore looked at her over his spectacles, and then calmly replied, "You are right. A Dementor had a hand on your shoulder, and as you fell, the Death Eater who was with it grabbed onto your ankle, trying to keep you from getting away. When Remus saw you falling, he managed a Patronus--impressive, so soon after the one he had just cast, but then, we didn't hire him back as the Defense teacher for nothing." He smiled.

"As for who called your name, I believe it was Severus. He had turned back to make sure Remus had trapped the last of them in that direction, and saw you fall. He, too, sent a Patronus, and the two of them brought you to safety."

"He…he sat with me all night…in the hospital wing," she said lamely.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, not needing to ask which "he" she meant. "Indeed he did. I was sorry that I could not come to see about you myself; I was busy still, in the forest and at Hogsmeade. But Madam Pomfrey wasn't sure that she had the right medicines on hand to counter the mixture of spells the Death Eater had cast at you, and Severus volunteered to stay and help her make whatever she needed until you awoke."

"Besides," he smiled, leaning towards her, "you're his favorite student."

Hermione blushed. Not because of Dumbledore's words, but because she had realized that the voice she'd heard--Snape's voice--had called out her first name. "Hermione." She couldn't decide why that was important to her.

Harry noticed that Hermione was often distracted when she came to the common room at the end of the day, and worried that she might still be feeling the effects of that night, now a month behind them. Probably it was all the time she was putting in trying to finish up her experiments so that she could have a couple of weeks at the end of school to finalize her report, he thought, but he wanted to be sure. When he asked her if there was anything bothering her one night, she said that she was just tired, and headed to her room to go to bed early, glad of the fact she had a room to herself.

She couldn't tell him that for the past couple of weeks she'd found herself daydreaming about Professor Snape. Not the silly, brought-her-flowers-at-dinner-in-front-of-everyone sort of thing she used to imagine about Gilderoy Lockhart. And not that kind of daydream, she thought with a start, and flushed crimson. She just found herself wondering about him--what he'd be doing over the summer, if he really hated all of his students the way he seemed to, why Dumbledore and Remus seemed to think that he considered her his favorite student.

"I guess I am, though," she admitted to Crookshanks, who answered by inserting his head under her hand to be petted. "Not that there's much competition."

But why her? Why had he accepted her proposal, and why had he decided to treat her, as he had said, like an adult? "Because I'm smart, and he finally realized it." That's what she had always believed. But now….

She had to admit that maybe he actually did like her.

She was surprised at how much that meant to her. She wanted to believe that he enjoyed working with her, that he looked forward to their meetings, that he trusted her. More than anything, she wanted to believe that, once she had gone, he wouldn't mind her writing every once in a while to check in with him on the work they had started.

She told herself that was it--that she wanted him to like her because she wanted to work with him past her graduation. She knew that there would be other talented professors at Mywoods, but their work together was the most important thing in her life, and she hated the thought of continuing it without him entirely.

That wasn't all of it, though, if she were honest. As she'd wondered about him, she'd found herself watching him when she was sure he was too engrossed in his work to notice. Never in class--his continuous survey of the room made that impossible. But as they worked together, or as she passed through the classroom to retrieve ingredients from the storeroom, or while he read over something they were working on…she would watch him out of the corner of her eye, trying to decide why it was so important that he think of her as…special. Of course it was just that she wanted every teacher to think she was special, she told herself. But as she watched him work, followed his graceful movements as he poured the carefully measured ingredients into the cauldron, traced his steps as he crossed the room…she had realized that she was…attracted to him.

No. She refused to believe it. It was the power of suggestion, the product of her confused emotions over finding out that he had helped Remus to save her life--had sat with her all that night. That had to be it. Because there was no way she could be falling in love with…she balked at the phrase, changing it immediately. There was no way she could have a crush on…Professor Snape?!

"Ugh," she said to Crookshanks, who was now curled up on her stomach. "And Ron would never let me hear the end of it. It's crazy. Can you imagine?" The trouble was, she could. She rolled on her side (much to the cat's distress) and forced her eyes closed, determined to go to sleep immediately.

On to Chapter 15