After Hours

Hermione was sweating. It was late at night, and even though it was snowing outside, the lab was hot with the perfumed steam of various potions. She had five going at the time, bubbling and brewing away, and the more she ran around to take care of them, the hotter she became and the more frizzy her hair got. That was the one down side to working in the Hogwarts lab. It was hard work and she did spend an exorbitant amount of her time in the lab, but those were the good parts. The researching, experimenting, knowing your ideas have come to fruition, that was what gave Hermione a smile in the morning when she forced her weary limbs out of her soft bed. She could do without the frizzy hair, though.

Harry and Ron couldn't understand her fervor, her zest for her job. She was known as a recluse among her friends and family. Hermione wondered if what bothered them more than that fact was that she didn't seem to mind that she was effectively closing herself off from the outside world. What they didn't understand was that this, this, was the only world that mattered. Her work was important and one day they would see why she was content to lock herself away and spend more time with a set of scales than with a pile of laundry.

It was this night in particular that Hermione would remember for a long time to come. The evening began no differently than before. Hermione was just as maniacally busy as ever, probably biting off more than she could chew, writing furious notes in the margins of her stained notebooks. But the night unexpectedly changed.

In a brief lull, when she had no more notes to make for the moment, when the cauldrons were content to do their magic on their own, Hermione leaned her sweaty palms on the table in front of her. She bowed her head and let her nostrils soak in the aromas of her labor. She closed her eyes and rested, wanting only to take a break for a moment. She was not exhausted enough to call it a night; it was still only early. Crookshanks could feed himself; he was a brilliant mice hunter. No one awaited her at home with rumbling stomachs or unwashed socks. She took one last long breath about to begin again when something, someone made her shriek.

He was silent. That was nothing new. He could creep around the castle more quietly than a cat; more ethereally than a ghost. It was one of his many perfected talents. It was, however, one not at all admired by the general school population. It was no surprise then, that Hermione had no clue of his presence, not even the heavy wooden door had thought to make the slightest noise to alert her of his presence. Had he spoken a word, cleared his throat, stepped a little too hard on the stone tiles, Hermione would have merely turned around and greeted him as she had so many times before.

Perhaps it was her posture that made him do it; from an outside perspective, one might assume she was tired, upset, depressed even. She was not. In fact, her short rest was so short that had he not chosen that particular moment to arrive, no one would ever have guessed that she had taken even a second for herself.

It was a simple gesture. One he had not made use of before, one that might have been appreciated in a different light. It was, however, despite all its good intentions, an action that quite literally made Hermione jump in fright. It was a mark of the skilled worker she was that the delicate potions bottled in glass vials on the table didn't move a millimeter when she jumped and shrieked.

You see, he had placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. Simple, kind even, but at that moment it was the most terrifying thing he could have done. Had he jumped into the room with a loud "RAAARRRGGHHH!" Hermione might have merely laughed in response. Funny how situations can mold any one particular word, thought, gesture.

He had never meant to scare her, only to reassure her. How wrong he had been. He was used to causing pain, fright, terror. He never allowed himself to get close to people for those reasons. The fact that his mere touch could frighten her so, made him recoil. He stepped back and released his hold. His face showed pain and guilt- emotions that were familiar to him, but so unfamiliar in the solace, in the warmth of this most familiar room.

He muttered a contrite "sorry" just as Hermione whipped around and began berating him. The adrenaline was still pumping through her, her heart was racing wildly.

"Holy mother of Merlin, Severus! Are you trying to kill me? Because you did a damn near perfect job. Why did you sneak up on me? I'm not a bloody Death Eater! If you keep that up, you'll have no one to help you in the lab- no one else would put up with you for so long. I wonder why I do it- getting treated like this. I'm working my ass off and you get your kicks sneaking up on people! For the love of Mike, you need a bell around your neck!"

Hermione, having let off her steam, stopped her frantic pacing and stood in front of Severus, her chest heaving, trying to tell herself to calm down.

Severus' eyebrows were raised and he grasped onto the only thing that he could from her tirade. "Who's Mike?"

"ARG!" Hermione's eyes widened and she growled in frustration. She had just taken a look around the lab. Her short tirade was enough to do great damage. "Does it matter? Do you know how many hours of work have been spoiled thanks to your ridiculous entrance? I was doing fine on my own and now look-" she swept an arm around the lab. Black smoke was issuing from one cauldron, another let off a rather putrid stench, and a third had bubbled over and burned a hole through the wooden table top. "I'll have to redo it all over again. I'll be here for hours!"

Completely ignoring him, and whatever reason he had come in for, Hermione stalked over to the ruined potions and began clearing up the mess.

Severus was still standing in the spot he had retreated to a safe distance from the irate Hermione. He watched her tense back for a moment before walking over, this time making sure his steps could be heard. As an added precaution, he spoke as he neared her. "How can I help?"

Hermione turned to him, her frazzled hair in her face. She angrily brushed some of it away and appraised him. Sighing, she pointed to a potion that might just be salvageable. "Can you see if you can fix that one?" She made for the only good potion in the room and gave it the required amount of stirs before going over to Severus to help. If they focused all their attention, they might actually be able to use it. The others would have to be re-brewed another day.

They both worked in silence except for the occasional muttered spell. They had never worked this close before but it was imperative that they work quickly and efficiently to save the brew. Hermione bumped into Severus once as she tried to move around the cauldron to reach a glass vial. "Sorry," she muttered. Their heads were bowed as they worked, their wands and hands moving almost in sync.

Severus briefly stepped on Hermione's foot at one point; they dismissed the matter after another quick apology.

Hermione tried hard to concentrate. She was grateful for his help but was caught off guard by the reaction she had to him at such close proximity. Their fingers kept grazing each others' as they reached for the same vial, as they moved to pick up another ingredient. Hermione would not have taken any notice of it had it not been for the almost electrical charges that would emanate whenever their skin happened to touch.

This phenomenon was quite new to Hermione. Usually they were both working on separate projects; Hermione liked to be left alone to concentrate and Severus wasn't exactly the most inviting person in the world. So it came as such a surprise to Hermione that she could feel so aware of him, that every time her hand brushed the smoothness of his sleeve or the roughness of his hand she shivered and felt her stomach flip.

She wondered if he felt it as well. She wondered if she was losing her mind. She wondered if she should set up another potion so it could simmer overnight.

Stepping away, both out of necessity and because she was unsettled by her newfound feelings, Hermione walked over to another table.

"I'll just set up the Thermaldia serum, then I'll come back and help finish up." Hermione briskly set about gathering a few more ingredients but stopped when she felt Severus' watching her.

"What?" Hermione tried not to show how keenly she had been aware of his eyes following her movements.

"Don't you want to wait for that?"

Hermione frowned, trying to ignore the shiver she felt as his deep baritone voice resonated fully throughout the dungeons for the first time since they began working. "Why?" She was perfectly fine with starting the potion and he must know that she wouldn't need his help.

Severus merely nodded his head towards the clock on the wall. It was three a.m.

"Oh no!" Hermione sighed. She was used to staying late, but never this late. Hermione was dedicated to her research projects but she was also emphatic about getting a decent night's sleep, lest inattention should interfere the next day. "You're right; I can't start it now, I've got a class at 8 a.m." Hermione growled in frustration and replaced the ingredients she had just picked up.

Severus also packed up his work area. The potion they had both been working on was now ready to sit overnight. Or at least, what was left of the morning.

Still feeling guilty, Severus offered to walk Hermione to her quarters. As Head of Gryffindor, Hermione was situated well out of Severus' way in Gryffindor Tower. When Hermione pointed this out, Severus merely replied that he had a letter he wanted to send and he would need to pass by on his way to the Owlery.

Curious at his offer, Hermione preceded Severus out of the lab before shaking off her surprise; it would be rather rude to walk all that way in order to reach the Owlery and not walk along with her. However, Hermione couldn't forget the way it had felt to work in tandem with him.

They were both deep in thought as they climbed the dungeon stairs and slowly made their way up through the castle.

If Hermione's thoughts hadn't been centered so intensely on the man walking beside her, she would have screamed for the second time that night. Hermione knew she wasn't alone, despite the shadowed silence of the corridors, as she replayed everything that had happened that night. She wondered why she wasn't still mad at Severus for ruining all her work. She would have to put in even more hours tomorrow and for the rest of the week in order to fix what had happened tonight.

But before Hermione could sufficiently work herself up about it all, she felt Severus move closer to her. His sleeve brushed her bare arm and she suppressed a shiver. She was glad that this time she was able to control her reactions; a scream in the middle of the hallway at 3 a.m. would rouse a lot of people.

Relieved that she hadn't reacted badly to his slight touch, Severus boldly lifted an arm and placed it as casually as he could around Hermione's shoulders. Her feet paused for a moment before she moved in closer to his side and walked on with him.

The deserted corridor stretched on ahead.

Written for drakien after a dream she had about working late at her own lab. I'm really proud of this one, hope you like!