Chapter XV

                                    

                                          
O love! that stronger art than wine,
Pleasing delusion, witchery divine!
- Aphra Behn (Song)
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"Careful."
                          
Hermione, who was trying to pick a book off the shelf by standing on a stool, got startled by Snape's sudden appearance right next to her and thus stumbled. 
                          
He had only intended to casually warn her and continue to walk to his desk, but when he saw she was about to lose her balance, he spun around and caught her by the hips. She quickly clutched at his shoulders and steadied herself. After a brief moment of awkwardness, both let go; Snape flicked his wand so that the book Hermione was trying to get, levitated out of its place and flew down to her hand.
                          
"Honestly, woman, I know I had asked you to do everything without magic but that was before...I'm starting to think that you have forgotten you're a witch."
                          
Hermione bit her lip, blushing as she followed him to the work table. Snape was up and running again, though he still walked with a slight limp, but showed no sign of weakness in his features, whatsoever. Even if he had any, his ego wouldn't allow it. She watched him check whether she had correctly followed the steps in making the Felix Felicis potion.
                          
"Those ashwinder eggs we collected, really proved to be useful, eh?" 
His passion for potion-brewing was reflected in his eyes as he neared her elbow, while she finished the work by waving her wand over the cauldron in a figure of eight and said, "Felixempra!"
                          
He inspected the potion while Hermione chewed her nails; it seemed she could do with a swig or two of the potion herself for what she was about to say; there was no good time to say it but she wanted to wait till he was satisfied with her work.
                          
"Granger, stop abusing your nails and tell me what it is." 
                          
Snape was making a note on a copy but he still noticed her anxiousness. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear and took a noncommittal approach, "As you know, today is Halloween, but Professor McGonagall wasn't too keen on having a party in the castle this year. So the others suggested that we could go to Hogsmead or somewhere else where we could have a feast..." 
                          
Snape looked up at her and she feared that he would make a snide remark.
"It's an open invitation to all, you know. All the other professors have said that they are willing to accompany their interns." She continued, somewhat dejectedly. "But it's okay. If you don't want...I- I'll just tell them- I'll make up some excuse-"
                          
"I'll come."
                          
"I'll just lie-...Sorry what?"
                          
"I said, I'm willing to go."
                          
Hermione couldn't believe it. "You are?"
                          
His lips curled in a smirk, "What, you just assumed that I would not?"
                          
"Well..." She was too happy that he was willing, so that she forgot why she was nervous in the first place, "You hate crowds and parties, any kind of merriment and people in general..so I thought...It's a no-brainer, really."
                          
He scoffed. "I will go. If only to prove you wrong."
                          
She grinned widely. That was enough- she didn't care for the reason, he had agreed to come and that was enough.
.............................................................
Hermione donned her costume and trotted out to the office. Snape was already waiting, just fastening his cloak over his body. He looked incredulous as she entered. "Oh God...What have you come as?"
                          
But he couldn't dim Hermione's thousand-watt smile. "I don't care what you think."
                          
"You look like a madwoman.." he commented as she gave a twirl in her witch's costume that was uncannily similar to what McGonagall actually dressed like. "An oddly cheerful madwoman."