Completed!
Blurb: Over the course of a year, Severus and Hermione realize their growing feelings for one another. In the end, though, is there really anything they can do about them? Takes place Hermione's 7th year, post OotP.
Prologue
Severus Snape sighed, put down his book, got up from his wingback chair by the fire, and crossed the room to the cupboard where he kept his personal supply of potions. He hated to take a sleeping draught, but it was two in the morning and he had Monday exams to give in a few short hours. He needed to rest in order to be prepared for the first years at 8:30. He'd like to slip a little swelling solution (or worse) into the morning pumpkin juice of whoever made up the exam schedules. Since that person was Minerva McGonagall, however, he thought that would be a very bad idea.
He found the bottle of purple syrup and pulled it out of the cupboard. Severus took a measuring spoon from a bottom drawer and carefully filled it with the sleeping draught. He gulped it down, grimacing at the tang of wormwood. He hesitated a moment, then poured out another spoonful and took that too. Already a bit woozy, he muttered a cleansing spell over the spoon and replaced it in the drawer, returned the bottle to the back of the cabinet and headed for his bedroom.
Severus had been sleeping poorly for weeks. It was the last week before Christmas break and he hadn't gotten a full night's sleep since the start of term feast. He'd been having awful nightmares involving snakes, Death Eaters—alive and long dead—participating in their awful dark revels, and a high pitched, evil laughter he recognized as belonging to the Dark Lord. He'd wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, not sure if the scream lingering in the air was his or a remnant of his nightmare.
If it wasn't nightmares depriving him from sleep, it was the thought of them. He'd sit in his chair by the fireplace, staring off into nothing as the logs burned down to embers, trying to think of anything but the darkness and horror that sleep would bring. A few times he'd stayed awake the whole night through, terrified of the recurring nightmares and furious at himself for being paralyzed with fear over simple, meaningless images his mind conjured up in sleep. In the morning he would arise from his chair, stiff, even more surly than usual. He'd scowl over his breakfast, sneer at the other professors and strike out at his students for the smallest provocation. The days after those totally sleepless nights usually ended with at least one student in tears, and twice the usual number of detentions. He'd given a third year Ravenclaw detention last week for knocking over a jar of lacewings, and even he had to concede that was a bit harsh. But when one got ten or twelve hours of sleep per week, one tended to get cranky.
Tonight, though, he thought to himself, I shall get six solid hours of dreamless sleep. Six, he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, solid, threw it on the trunk at the foot of his four poster bed, hours, and collapsed onto the mattress without removing his socks or trousers. He didn't even get under the blankets. Within seconds he was asleep.
Hermione Granger sighed, put down her book, got up from the armchair by the fire, and crossed the Gryffindor common room to the girls' dormitories. She wished she could take a sleeping draught since it was two in the morning and she needed to be rested for her pre-Christmas exams that would take place in a few short hours. Three exams in one day! She'd like to slip a hair-raising potion (or worse) into the morning tea of whoever made up the exam schedules, but since that person was her head of house she thought that wouldn't be a terribly great idea.
She found the doorknob to her dormitory room and pulled it open. She trudged to her bed, shedding clothes on the way. Lavender snored gently and Parvati tossed in her sleep as Hermione pulled an oversized black t-shirt with "Mind the Gap" in bold white letters on the front over her head and fell back into the four-poster bed. She snuggled down into the many blankets and pillows and closed her eyes. She wanted to just shut her brain off; she was thinking too much about her exams.
In Transfiguration there was a practical exam of turning a broom into a bureau, but none of the Gryffindor quidditch players would loan her their broom to practice on. She'd asked Professor McGonagall to let her use one of the regular brooms kept in the classroom for the sole purpose of transfiguration, and she'd practiced on it all weekend, but had to return it to the professor earlier in the evening. It wasn't terribly difficult; after all, both broom and bureau were made of wood. Beginning with the same substance you wanted to end up with always made Transfiguration much easier. That and… and… how else was it easy? Her mind was beginning to fog, though she was still as awake as ever.
Then there was her written Astronomy exam. That would be a piece of cake. Memorizing hard facts, such as the names of planets' moons and their phases were especially simple for Hermione. The practical exam wasn't until midnight on Wednesday.
Finally, after lunch would come her potions exam. She suppressed a shudder at the mere thought. Thankfully it was almost Christmas break, so this was the last time she would have to put up with Professor Snape for three weeks. He'd been particularly nasty lately. The exam included a practical portion as well as a written portion. In the practical portion, the students would have to make a burn-healing paste from memory—they would have no list of ingredients or instructions, only their wands and cauldrons. The written portion would be a random list of common potion ingredients and the students would have to write down at least three potions each ingredient was used in. Hermione considered getting her flashcards out of her bag for one last review, and got as far as taking her wand from her nightstand and whispering, "Lumos," before she remembered what time it was. She really ought to go to sleep.
"Nox," she whispered. The light at the tip of her wand dimmed and went out. After kicking off the covers, she aimed the tip of her wand at her forehead and murmured, "Wingardium leviosa." It had taken quite a bit of practice to levitate herself, but she had found out in her fifth year that when she was stressed about taking her O.W.L.s, it helped her relax and get to sleep. Clutching her wand, she rolled over and over in midair, trying not to giggle. It was such fun!
After ten minutes of spinning and floating around her large bed (she was thankful for the curtains all around it; she wouldn't want anyone to catch her looking this silly) she stretched out on her back, placed her wand on her chest, still pointing at her head, and closed her eyes. She knew that as she drifted off to sleep, the spell would wear off and she would drift gently back onto the bed. She slept so deeply that she hardly ever rolled over, so there was no danger of the wand rolling off and dumping her back on the mattress. Within minutes, she was asleep.
Author's Note: This is the very first thing I ever wrote as fanfiction, and I'm very excited to have it up! Drop me a note if you'd like!