((It mustn't be EVERYWHERE, because I have never even heard of that term before. The amount of coding I actually do is extremely limited and I stick strictly to using Dreamweaver--that's about the extent of my knowledge.))

---

Hermione sent the headmaster a feeble look as he questioned her knowledge on the subject of the Dark Mark. She had attained a generally conceptual comprehension of its mechanics, but it was nothing comparable to all the academic knowledge etched into her brain.

"Nowhere near as much as I ought to," she told him. Looking from Dumbledore to her professor, she had to quickly avert her eyes to the floor. The agony he expressed was too much for her eyes to handle.

"All I know is how it works... not how to get rid of it," she admitted. And that was the sad truth. Normally, she would go and research every last smidgen of information on it afterwards, but she had a feeling that anything Dumbledore didn't know himself would be next to impossible to find and time wasn't something they had to waste. A solution would have to be discovered fast—even if it meant going on a hunt for the Dark Lord himself.

---

((Ahh, I am SO sorry for taking so pathetically long... moving took forever yesterday and today I was busy with a friend.))

((Ah, okay, that's a relief. I was looking at CSS templates, and a whole bunch of them were based on this YUI thing, which I undersatnd is a yahoo-based set of stylesheets and javascript thingies. o.O

BTW, "Dark Lord" is always capitalized in the books. :P When I was a fic-intaker for FictionAlley, we had endless arguments behind the scenes on capitalization, hyphens, and spelling. Did you know that in the American versions, it's usually the "Entrance Hall," whereas in the British, it's "entrance hall"? Or that the American version uses "Apparition," (sometimes) while the English uses "Apparation?" :rofl: No need to fix it; I'm just pointing it out because it brought up old memories.))

---

"Then you know it's a modified Protean Charm?" Albus asked her. "Good. Help me, then—for now, I want to contain its effects, its linkage, to the actual Mark. Right now it links directly to the body's nervous system, rather like the Cruciatus Curse works. Trust Tom Riddle to mix those two," he said sourly. "I'll need you to work on holding the actual Mark stable while I confine its magic; the risk in this process is that my stasis spell will backfire, spreading the effects rather than limiting them. Can you do that?"

He spoke urgently, quickly. They needed Severus fully conscious and awake; he understood the mechanics of the Mark better than anyone else, except perhaps Voldemort.

((I'm actually glad you told me. Believe it or not, I contemplated capitalizing that title for about three minutes. The only reason I decided to settle with 'dark lord' is because I assumed that from the perspective of individuals not loyally acquainted with him, they wouldn't use the respective grammar. And I was too lazy to sift through the books in search of several instances, so I just decided to go with it. But thanks for letting me know, I'll be sure to apply it correctly from now on.

Blah, the different versions make it so complicated. Which do you tend to follow—the British or American?))

---

Yes, Hermione knew exactly what it entailed. She recalled her fifth year when she opted to place a Protean Charm on the fake Galleons the DA were using to keep track of meeting times. That idea had in fact spawned from the concept of the Dark Mark itself.

“Of course I can,” she assured him with a firm nod—face dead serious.

Hastily getting into position next to her professor, she stabled his writhing arm with one hand while the other whipped out her wand. Staring at the brand still made her insides squirm, but she had to force herself to concentrate on effectively helping him rather than worrying. There was much faith in Dumbledore's abilities, so fear was an unnecessary hindrance.

Before Dumbledore was ready, Hermione bit her lip and glanced up once more at her professor. Her entire face was strained, displaying the deepest concern. It wasn't just any expression—it was meaningful. Hopeful.

“Severus...” The name rolled as a silent whisper from her lips, while her unblinking eyes spoke the rest. Right then and there, nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

((I tend to follow the American capitalization, because that's what FA followed.))

---

Albus heard Hermione's whisper, and felt a pang in his heart. This would be very hard on both of them, but if Severus lived through this, and Hermione was able to get past the age difference, they would make excellent partners for each other—he hoped.

Concentrating deeply, Albus whispered the incantation for a Stasis Spell, verbalizing for once to reserve his energies for the exact limitations he wanted to create. White light poured from his wand in a fluid chain, first wrapping around Severus' entire arm, then, as Albus focused with all his might, mirroring the shape of the Dark Mark. Tendrils kept slipping out, and Albus shot Hermione an urgent look to increase her focus.

But, to Albus' intense relief, the spell did not spill over its borders; as Albus pushed, slowly, carefully, the white liquid began to first hover over, then cover, and then finally fold itself into the tattoo. Severus twitched when the spell made contact, but, with what was clearly immense effort, held his left arm still with his right one. Good, so he was still conscious and sensible. Often pain would render a victim delirious.

"That's it, Severus," Albus said, using the same tone of voice he'd once used with the frustrated, angry, grief-stricken eighteen-year-old lad who, torn with the remorse of selling the Potters to Voldemort, had come begging for help. "That's exactly it, keep it steady. You can do this. We'll be done in a moment."

And then, an interminable ten seconds later, the white of the spell was fully absorbed into the tattoo, which now, instead of pulsing angrily, was glowing faintly grey.

Albus sat back heavily, leaning his back against the stone wall of the dungeon behind him. He could feel sweat trickling down his forehead and knew he was shaking. A glance at his left hand, which still bore the evidence of his attempt to use the Resurrection Stone in that first Horcrux, showed that his heavy use of magic just now had probably stolen some weeks from his remaining life. He carefully hid the left hand in his sleeves and didn't look at Miss Granger. He didn't want her passing this on to Harry, who would only worry.

"Well," he said, and he could hear the fatigue in his voice, "that's done. How do you feel, Severus?"

Severus, who had been only vaguely aware of the last five minutes, groaned. "Like someone put my arm through a meat-grinder." He opened his eyes and looked first at Albus and then at Hermione. Albus' breath caught in his throat. Severus was absolutely, truly, in love with this girl. It had to be more than the basic lusts for good sex and equally good conversation which motivated many relationships. The memory of Lily Evans had faded, and a bushy-haired clever witch had taken its place.

Albus smiled fondly at Severus. "You'll be fine."

"For how long?" Severus looked back at Albus. "A Stasis Spell?"

"Yes. I would estimate some two weeks before it wears down. You may experience twinges of pain, but hopefully it will be restricted to the Mark. You can thank Miss Granger for her assistance; she was absolutely essential in keeping my work from backfiring." Albus looked approvingly at Hermione, offering her an opportunity to speak.

"Thank you," Hermione softly whispered as she flashed Dumbledore a solid look of genuine gratitude. Her gaze didn't linger on him for very long, however, as the potions master was like a piece of metal, and her eyes the magnet. They were on the verge of tearing as an overwhelming amount of relief swept over her that the procedure had been successful.

Relief that only lasted for a moment before reverting to distress.

“But... like you said...” she trembled, feeling as though something was lodged in her throat, “If this spell will only hold for approximately two weeks... what will we do then?” She finally tore her gaze from her professor to the headmaster, and shot him a strained look. “We can't continue using this spell... it's too risky.” Turning back to Snape, her expression softened but lost none of its sincerity. If Dumbledore hadn't been there, she probably would have embraced him.

Her stomach felt oddly sick and the desire to cry did not ease. It was impossible for her to explain why it was affecting her so much; all she knew was that whenever she considered the idea of him being killed, it made her heart palpitate and stomach churn. So much had happened between them the past few days that had gotten them so much closer and opened her eyes to a whole new side of him. It was a side she was really starting to like... perhaps even more than she should. But that was out of her control. And suddenly she couldn't fathom what she would do if anything were to happen to him.

"Two weeks?" Severus struggled to sit up, but he felt far too weak. He settled for simply adjusting his flop on the floor to something a little more dignified. "With two weeks, we ought to have time to develop some kind of salve, maybe a modified burn salve, that will combine the properties of the stasis spell with the necessary limitations the tattoo imposes..."

Albus slowly got to his feet, watching Hermione gaze at Severus with an awe-filled intensity. This must be an awakening for her, too, Albus thought.

"Severus, I will need to speak with you later tonight," Albus said. "About my hand."

Severus found himself sitting up, without knowing where the strength came from. "Your hand? I didn't realize you used that much magic—"

Albus cut him off with a nod. Hermione need not know about the Horcruxes unless Harry had told her; and she was discreet enough, he hoped, to keep things to herself. "Yes, my hand will need some seeing-to, and you're probably the best person. I realize you're quite weak yourself, but this is something I doubt Poppy could deal with." And he didn't just mean magically; Poppy would be completely distraught to know that Albus was nearing the end of his life.

"Thank you for your help, Miss Granger," Albus said, bowing slightly to Hermione. "I need to return to my office now. I trust Severus to your care; if something else arises, do not hesitate to contact me. The current password to my office is 'Cadbury.' Goodnight." He stepped to the fireplace, dropped a pinchful of Floo powder in, and vanished in a swirl of green flame.

Severus' eyes were momentarily blinded by the flash, but as he turned his gaze to Hermione, they cleared, and he was able to see her.

"I'm sorry," he said, and tried to put everything into those two words that he could. Sorry for trying to kiss you; sorry that you're the only smart person at this school who could save my life; sorry that you had to witness me lose it like this; sorry that Voldemort is alive in your generation so that you can't have the happy, carefree time that you deserve.

Acknowledgement of Dumbledore's condition struck Hermione the instant word slipped out. Her head had snapped in his direction as he and her professor exchanged an attempt at hinted dialogue; but, despite that, she couldn't bring herself to interject. She wanted to—desperately, as it formed another figurative clot in her heart—but it wasn't long before he was fleeing the room through the very same way they entered. Although she deemed it an exception to let him go this time, she wrote a mental note of discussing the issue with him later.

Addressing the more important matter at hand, she turned back to face her professor and her knees dropped down to the floor beside him—just in time to hear him apologize. Her eyebrows creased as she stared concernedly into his drained face. He had no idea how much it pained her to hear him apologize after everything he just experienced... if anything, she felt like the one who should have been apologizing—for supposedly being the cause of all this in the first place; for rejecting him.

Without thinking it through or giving him a chance to react, Hermione leaned forward, cupped both hands on either side of his face, and brought her lips softly to his. Not being able to express her feelings with words at that moment, it was her only way of apologizing and preventing him from saying anything more that could make her feel worse. And because, in the back of her mind, she had regretted denying it before.

Severus nearly gasped at the sensation of Hermione's lips on his: voluntarily given, and from what he could tell, not out of pity. Her lips were soft, gentle, and tender, and aroused him more than anything else ever had, including the brief glimpse of her panties the other night (had it really happened so recently?). He kissed her back, of course, uncertain how deeply she wanted to kiss, but desperate to prolong the moment.

He brought his arms up into her hair, into that soft bushy mass he couldn't get enough of. Then, carefully, giving her room to squirm out, he moved his hands down from her hair to the base of her neck, down her shoulders, to her back. He pulled gently, drawing her closer, hoping she'd tumble onto his lap astride him.

The feeling of Severus's hand making its way down from her hair to her back sent shivers down her spine and goosebumps soon presented themselves on her skin. It was unlike any other sensation she'd ever felt before... knowing that this grown man—her professor, no less—was caressing her; pulling her in; kissing her. It did wonders to her mind; wonders that she couldn't decide whether were good or not. In a realistic world, she knew it ought to be wrong... ought to be taboo. But her world was filled with magic and amazing things. Almost anything seemed to be possible, and at that moment in time, it was her heart speaking for herself.

Giving in to his gentle pull, Hermione smoothly sidled her way onto his legs, settling down in a half-kneeling, half-sitting position where her legs rested on the floor on either side of his lap. Her lips didn't break once from his' during her repositioning—lips that remained slightly timid and gentle in consideration of his painful experience he was just forced to endure. She didn't wish to risk agitating anything more.

Daringly, she slid a hand from his jaw into his greasy, black hair. It was heavy and thick, but surprisingly soft. Like silk. She decided she didn't mind it, and proceeded with intimately combing her fingers through while their lips continued dancing.

It was a moment from a dream, but like any dream... someone always has to wake up eventually. Realizing that they should truly stop before getting too into the heat of the moment and risking hurting the recently aided potions master, Hermione's lips drifted ever so slowly apart from his. Time seemed to be caught, and her eyes fluttered half-open in a daze. Her breath was heavy and shaking, and the rest of her body couldn't move as she was lost, staring deeply into his dark eyes.

“Severus...” she whispered for the second time ever, yet more quietly and softly. She wanted to continue speaking, but simply ended up losing her train of thought in his gaze again.

Hermione was sitting in his lap, sitting in his lap, kissing him back, stroking his hair, and not disgusted at all. She was returning his affection, with interest. This was, in a word, wonderful.

She whispered his name, and he felt his body immediately stiffen. Oh, the things he wanted to do with her, for her, to her! He wanted to hear her crying his name out in ecstasy, murmuring it, moaning it.

"Hermione," he said thickly. He felt tears on his cheeks, but was too busy holding her to wipe them away. He smiled at looked into her eyes—a deep, deep brown. "You're beautiful," he said, because it was true. "I love you," he added, because that was also true.

Love... That word struck Hermione like lightning. Straightening her posture, she let her hands fall limply to her sides as her hypnotized stare shifted into a look of pure awe. Her entire body froze like an ice cube and refused to move in the slightest after that.

Love... Why hadn't she seen it before? Perhaps because it was too strong and meaningful a word to even be considered as definition of whatever their relationship was. Or perhaps because she was just too blind to notice an emotion so seldom incorporated into her life. It wasn't like the love for her family or friends... it was different. Intimate. Serious. Something she had never truly faced before... not like this.

“Oh,” was all her throat managed to croak. Her excessively blinking eyes wouldn't leave his—couldn't. There was an itch inside of her to say something more, but she couldn't even do that. What was there to say? It had caught her completely off guard, and she hadn't even taken the time to ponder over what she truly felt for the man—especially such an overwhelming emotion as love. It was too soon for her to reciprocate.

Despite that, his tears, the sincerity in his eyes, and his hold on her made it very difficult for her to want to pull away. It was a moment she revelled in, and didn't want to do anything that would spoil it for once—knowing how susceptible she was to regretting it later. So, with a soft smile, she lifted her hands back up and brushed the tears from his cheeks. It wasn't the prettiest sight, but she didn't even find herself regarding such petty things anymore.

"Perhaps we ought to retire for the day," she finally suggested.

Severus swallowed thickly, and nodded. "I... can understand if... you don't reciprocate."

How could he tell her that she was this amazing, wonderful, so-perfect-for-him person? Yes, she had her obvious flaws—she'd never make it onto the cover of Witch Weekly, for instance, and though smart she wasn't Dumbledore, and she was quick-tempered, rash, headstrong, a Gryffindor, friends with Ron Weasley, overly idealistic, funny, clever... wait, those last two were good things.

Severus let his arms drop from Hermione's back, giving her the freedom to climb off him.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just get, though," he said, trying to sound once more like a professor, rather than a sexually frustrated man in his early 40s (down, boy, down!—thank goodness robes hid an awful lot). "You do have work to do if you wish to take your N.E.W.T.s next month." He tried to smile, but knew it must look stiff. "And I still need that barrel full of horned toads disemboweled... though I'd be happy to teach you the correct way to handle them magically."

If Hermione had to be honest, she hoped he would have let her leave without any problems so she could have some time to think things over and rationalize. But he did make a good point. As always, her studies were the most important factors in her life and, in any case, she needed to place them before her personal matters.

“Alright... Professor.” There was the slightest pause between words as she seriously toyed between calling him Severus (since it felt, for a moment, that they had finally reached a first-name basis), but decided that his take on professionalism at that moment was only right to be reciprocated.

Releasing a deep breath to mask the awkwardness she felt as she climbed off of him, her hand stretched out, once she got to her feet, as a gesture to help her professor up. He was still frail, after all, as that had been the main reason for her disistance.

((HOMG, is that the new CI? IT'S GORGEOUS - *goes to buy many extras*))

Severus gladly took Hermione's hand to help himself to his feet. He toyed with the idea of collapsing against her, pinning her to a table and having his hand conveniently land on her breasts, but decided, on balance, not to. She'd been through enough, and he ought not to push her any further. In fact, the emotional aspects of their relationship had become a lot stronger than he'd hoped, in such a short time.

"Feel free to call me Severus," he said, noticing her hesitation. "Our... relationship aside, it is customary for junior teachers, which you will be in a few days, to address upper faculty by name. Doing so in the presence of the other professors—who will all, I assure you, make the same request—will help solidify your new role."

He let out a deep breath. "Right. To work."

Taking her hand in what he hoped was a professional, matter of fact way, he walked over to the storage cupboard and carefully Summoned out the barrel full of horned toads. He set up the workspace quickly, and explained briefly how to manipulate the preserved bodies of the toads without leaving magical traces that could interfere with potion work.

He watched her face as he spoke, enjoying the intelligent light in her eyes, the determined set of her face, and the obvious comprehension she showed as he spoke.

A new bubble was rising in his chest—not the bubble of love and lust for Hermione, but the enthusiasm for teaching with only struck him every few years.

((Can't say I'm particularly fond of it (I think the elemental/fire/water theme is way over-done), but it was something new and I like to contribute towards supporting Menewsha, so I bought them.))

---

Learning was so much more pleasant and easier now that Severus's teaching methods were less harsh with her; if only he treated the other students just like how she was being treated at that moment, they may actually begin to like him and learn things for once.

The material he was teaching her were things she already knew, but would refuse to admit. Revelling in his new adjustment, she found it surprisingly comforting; it was a moment where she was beginning to feel like she could finally see things eye-to-eye with him. It was development she couldn't deny that she'd noticed swift advancement over the past few days; but now, after he'd expressed his new-found emotions, she could finally understand everything better. Understand and relate?—That was something she still needed time to decide on. He was, without a doubt, the most intelligent professor (aside from Dumbledore) at the school, and once you broke through his bad side, he was actually a very compassionate man. Of course, his outer appearance left something to be desired, but Hermione was never really one to judge on those terms. There was also the issue with the age difference and the fact that he was her mentor, but, again, those factors didn't hold much against Hermione's heart; she believed that 'social norms' were over-rated and that if two people were soulfully compatible, their love ought to be accepted.

Time raced by out of enjoyment of their evening affair with horned toads. That didn't go to say that the actual process was enjoyable, but rather the company of one another. Hermione felt as though she would be willing to do almost anything as long as Severus was accompanying her in such a way. His presence had been soothing, invigorating, intellectually stimulating... another connection.

“Severus,” she began, tuning out of her academic mode, and turning to him as Hermione, “Thank you. I enjoyed this evening.” Her eyes had been staring directly into his until memory of the incident merely moments ago resurfaced, drawing her eyes to his arm. “Will you be okay?” she asked, examining his arm for a good few seconds before glancing concernedly back up at him. “If you need anything, I want you to come get me. No matter the time.”

((Draft TWO of "statement of grant purpose" is done. My advisor says my writing isn't phallic enough. At least he says it nicely...))

---

A very distinct part of Severus' lower body jumped with excitement at her words. Of course, she meant the Dark Mark, but his mind, which had been slowly drifting toward the proverbial gutter all evening, took a completely different interpretation.

Don't push it.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, retreating a step and bowing slightly. Best to keep things a little formal for now. "Albus is, I need not remind you, highly skilled. As are you. I believe your combined magics will at least hold things for the evening."

Without thinking, his hand came up to gently rub the side of her arm, affectionately. "I enjoyed things, too. Hopefully our subsequent meetings will be uninterrupted by crises." Indeed, it seemed that ever since school started, it had been one emergency after another. Realizing what he was doing, he dropped his arm and took another step back, before the urge to kiss her again became overpowering.

"Check with Minerva before you go to bed to see if she wants you tomorrow morning for her second-years; then tomorrow evening once I've spoken with the rest of the professors, we can come up with a schedule for you, and work on that petition to the Ministry."

His lips twitched, wanting the taste of her again, but he dared not.

((I don't know what you're talking about!))

---

It never would have crossed Hermione's mind that somebody so dark and mean-looking could have the gentlest touch; however, the instant his hand brushed lightly against her arm, Hermione's entire body relaxed and the presumption she once had changed. But before she even got the chance to appreciate it for what it was truly worth, it was gone again, and she had to force herself not to portray any of her disappointment for that fact.

“Alright, I'll go have a talk with her,” Hermione said with a nod once her composure was fully restored. “See you tomorrow, Severus.”

There was a slight moment of awkwardness before and after her goodbye sentence as she stared up at the man like a lost doe. At first, she contemplated the idea of kissing him goodbye—they already kissed twice, so would it really matter? What would it mean? Hermione had never been in any situation quite like it, so it was hard for her to come up with the best solution. But, deciding to just stick to the formality of the situation, she left after a respective nod and smile.

Solid soles clacked against the stone and marble floors as Hermione hastily began making her way to Minerva McGonagall's office.

---

((Do you have anything essential that you think McGonagall should say? If not, I'm just going to skip through it.))

((My grant that I've been applying for... my dissertation advisor says that I need to make my statement of purpose more direct and thrusting. Phallic.

No, nothing essential—unless you want Minerva to have an opinion on the Snape/Granger relationship?))

---

The first thing Severus did when he was back in his quarters, which were located near the Slytherin common room, was take a cold shower. Oddly enough, he didn't feel like masturbating to take away the surge of lust. He figured it was some fool notion about saving himself for her—not that he'd be pushing things with Hermione ever again. He was already uncomfortably aware that their relationship had an awkward dynamic, what with their history as teacher and student, and then his new position as someone to be taken care of. He sincerely hoped that her feelings for him were not just a natural sympathy that would dissipate as soon as the Dark Mark were dealt with.

If it ever could. Severus' thoughts as he stepped out of the shower and magicked his hair dry took a decidedly gloomy downturn. There was, he realized, a good chance that he wouldn't live more than another month. No one had ever managed to dispel the Dark Mark from their skin, and though he, Hermione, and Albus together were quite a team, Lord Voldemort did know things no other wizard ever had. The Mark was a twisted parody of a Protean Charm, Severus knew, with the tattoo's magic linked to the wearer's nervous system. Voldemort could, theoretically, control a Death Eater through the Mark, but he'd never known the Dark Lord to actually try that. Severus' skill with Occlumency would probably help if Voldemort ever tried that, but he simply didn't know. There were too many unknowns, and it was frustrating.

Severus slept quite soundly, but only because of the large dose of Dreamless Sleep he took before cautiously dropping back on his pillows. In the morning, he examined his Mark, which was pulsing silver-white but still painless. He felt slightly headachy and nauseous, which could possibly be from the Dreamless Sleep, but was probably a side effect of the magic battling things out in his arm.

Sighing, he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

((I am uneducated in those sort of things, so it kinda just goes right over my head. :P

And I don't think McGonagall should have an opinion yet, since their 'relationship' isn't really unveiled.

BTW, just so you know, I am open to discussing any future plans/ideas if you ever want to... unless you prefer the way we're doing things now just by winging it. I'm totally cool either way.))

---

Hermione awoke that morning with a start. The hard surface she felt pressing against her face in limbo of being asleep and awake was something her mind instantly recognized as abnormal. Eyes fluttering open behind a chaotic shroud of oak-coloured frizz, both head and bottom supported on something solid, told her that she hadn't fallen asleep in her comfortable dormitory bed. Rather, she realized as she sat up and brushed the hair from her eyes, it appeared as thought she'd fallen asleep in the library. Looking down at the desk in front of her, the piles of books and loose reports reminded her just exactly what she had been doing the night prior—researching every little spec of information including, but not limited to, Protean Charms, Hypothesized Counter-Curses, Archived Experiments, and other bits of information in relation to The Dark Arts.

Her mind reeled as she slid her chair back and stood up to collect all the material strewn across the table. Thinking back to the day before, she remembered having her talk about the morning's schedule with Minerva (productively), right after her session with Severus. After that, all she could remember was heading straight to the library and then telling Madam Pince not to bother with her, as she would probably be in there for a while. Well, when she said that, she never really implied 'a while' as being 'all night'.

Looking at the time, Hermione realized that she only had about thirty minutes left until she was expected at Transfiguration class that morning to assist Minerva. With that in mind, Hermione knew that she would only have time for one thing: a shower or food. Respecting the fact that the last time she showered was exactly 24 hours ago, Hermione naturally chose that option over feeding herself. So, once all the books and papers were magicked back into their correct places, Hermione dashed out of the library and hurried to gather a fresh uniform and then to the showers.

At precisely 28 minutes later, Hermione finished up with her wash and made her way down to the Transfiguration classroom.

---

((I might not bother typing out the class.))

((LOL. Well, I edited my statement to sound more arrogant, and my advisor said that was a definite improvement.

As far as future plans, winging it so far has been a lot of fun. Just let me know if you object to anything!

No need to write up boring classes.))

---

Severus didn't see Hermione at breakfast, which concerned him. Minerva told him that she would be using Hermione that morning, and was thoroughly delighted at the prospect of having someone take over her dull second-year classes.

"And she's such a nice girl," Minerva added. "Such a hard worker."

"Indeed," said Madam Pince, disapprovingly butting in to their conversation. "She was working in the library last night until well past curfew. Kept me up hours past the usual time—I finally had to go to bed myself, since she wouldn't leave."

"Really?" asked Severus, with interest, and found he was in chorus with Albus.

"Did you see any of the books she was using?" Albus asked.

Madam Pince scowled. "Nearly everything from the Restricted Section," she said darkly. "That girl shows far too keen an interest—"

"Oh, let me reassure you," Albus said with a pleased little smile, "Hermione Granger will become a Death Eater the same day that Ronald Weasley stops supporting the Chudley Cannons. In other words, never." He scooped scrambled eggs onto his toast and ate heartily.

"Hmph," said Madam Pince, dipping her toast in her tea, which always revolted Severus.

"If Hermione was up all night," Albus said quietly to Severus, "then she's likely to be missing breakfast. Make sure you catch her at the mid-morning break and make sure she eats. I've seen her lose weight during final exams before, and it's not healthy."

Severus nodded. "I'd noticed that, too," he admitted. "I'll do that."

Minerva rose from her seat with a pleased smile. "Well, I'm off. Have a good day, all. This is simply wonderful!" She was positively grinning.

Severus stayed at breakfast a little longer, waiting to see if Hermione would show up, but she didn't. He barely made it back to his classroom in time for the first class to start—his seventh-year N.E.W.T. students.

Potter and Weasley were looking murderously at him, but Draco Malfoy looked thoroughly pleased that he'd no longer have Hermione as competition in the course. They proceeded with their Polyjuice Potions while Severus mostly sat at his desk and contemplated the evening he'd be spending with Hermione. In fact, Severus barely remembered to prowl around and insult the students. Ernie Macmillan even had the temerity to ask if something good had happened, because "Professor Snape, you're practically smiling."

Severus took twenty points from Hufflepuff for that comment, but did remark that it was a pleasure he'd not have to undertake the basic drudgery of ingredient preparation now that he had an assistant.

When the break came, Severus practically sprinted to the kitchens, ordered a packet of bacon sandwiches, and stalked off to the Transfiguration classroom in search of Hermione.

He reached it just as the second years came trailing out.

“Thank you for your help, Hermio—Never in my life...” Minerva broke off mid-sentence with a gasp when she lifted a defective slipper off one of the students' desks. While the bunnies were supposed to be transformed into fully inanimate slippers, this one was hopping around on frog legs and breathing fire from the opening. Shaking her head, Minerva quickly transformed it back and cleared her throat to continue with her interrupted speech. “As I was saying... your assistance here is greatly appreciated. I think it was an excellent choice on your behalf to undertake an opportunity like this—I can't believe I didn't think of it before! Albus was most certainly right; you have been ready to finish your lessons for too long a time.” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke in a voice that didn't need words to explain how proud she was.

Hermione smiled bashfully as she went about the desks, transforming all the slippers back into their previous forms as rabbits and placing them in their cages. “I am honoured to have been offered this position,” she mentioned truthfully as the very last of the students filed out. “If it hadn't been for—” her voice cut off abruptly when, coincidentally enough, the one time Hermione's instincts told her to look up was the moment when she was at the desk closest to the doorway; and standing directly beneath it was the very man who had been the heart of her thoughts.

“Oh! P—Severus...” The rabbit she was holding nearly slipped out of her grasp as she gaped in surprise at the potions master. “Hi...” she breathed. It was as though her voice suddenly underwent a transfiguration spell itself—becoming very soft and barely above a whisper.

She was shocked to see him standing there, to say the least; but, in a way, it made her insides feel all warm and fuzzy. It was a feeling that she couldn't quite place her finger on, but seeing him again (especially when it was him coming to her) gave her heart a bit of an electric start. It was so unreal that, for a moment, she began to wonder if her thoughts had finally gone too far, leading her to the point of hallucination.

Absurdity aside, Hermione put the rabbit down and went to approach him. “Is something the matter?” she asked, concern replacing the initial falter as she acknowledged the possibility that his presence there may actually entail serious intentions.

Severus held out the basket he'd ordered from the house-elves. "You weren't at breakfast," he said bluntly. "You need to eat."

He didn't notice Minerva's eyes flicking back and forth between himself and Hermione. If he had, he might have had some sharp words for her to dispel rumor. But, as those rumors would probably be true, it was good that he didn't see her.

"What lessons are you covering next?" he asked, taking her by the elbow and propelling her to a desk to sit and eat. "And how did the morning go? Your absence was noticed in Potions this morning."

“Thank you,” Hermione breathed silently, accepting the basket with much gratitude while submitting to being dragged to the desk. His consideration for her health (coming all that way during his short break just to bring her food!) touched her heart, and she found it kind of romantic... in her own sappy little way. But she expressed none of that, as he would probably be turned off by it, and the fact that they were still in plain presence of Minerva.

She had sat and taken out one of the sandwiches before he even finished talking. “It actually went very well,” she started after swallowing a giant-size bite. “The younger years are easier, though. Next is Ravenclaw and Slytherin—same material, so it should hopefully go just as smoothly.”

Already finished with the first sandwich, she grabbed another and then looked to Severus, seriously. “How did Harry and Ron look?” She had been wondering, after not seeing them at all since their little spat.

"Your two friends seem to think I'm the devil incarnate," Severus said. "It's a good thing we were only brewing Polyjuice, rather than anything highly toxic."

He was pleased that Hermione had accepted the food, and was happy with teaching. "It's always interesting teaching the same material to a different group of students," he said. "You'll find eventually that each class has its own dynamic; since you've so far usually been on the student end of the classroom situation, I think it'll be a new art for you to learn, managing large groups of immature witches and wizards. Are you having any discipline or authority issues so far?"

Minerva, he noticed, was beaming far too much like Albus for his comfort. He shot her a nasty glare, but she simply shrugged and went back to her marking, still with the pleased little smug smile.

((So you think McGonagall would approve?))

---

Severus's initial response made it clear enough to Hermione that she ought to refrain from going into too much detail with Harry and Ron about what was going on. If they hated him that much over what happened and the fact that she'd be his official assistant... they might personally end up performing Unforgivable Curses on the two of them. She began to consider if she tried persuading them to actually like him... perhaps it would be easier and safer for her to explain things. But the odds of that happening felt extremely slim.

“No, so far they have been fairly obedient, actually,” she said, shaking her head. “But you're right. It's rather exhilarating to be learning an art so new and so unlike my usual studies. I think I'm really going to enjoy this.” She turned her head sideways to give Severus the sincerest smile. There was a slight gleam in her eyes that said the experience alone wasn't the only thing she was excited for.

As much as she wanted him to just sit there with her forever, students would be swarming in any minute for their second period class and it would be extremely awkward for them to see the two of them so close with Severus appearing as though he had a dramatic personality shift. “You should probably get to your next class,” she suggested, finishing off the last sandwich and glancing at the clock. When her eyes returned to him, she felt the sudden urge to kiss him goodbye and as thanks for going out of his way to bring her sandwiches, but her conscience was stronger and told her how inappropriate that would be. So she settled for another smile.