Chapter 1

Professor Severus Snape sighed heavily as he went about his rounds on an unseasonably cold night in late May. He was, quite simply, exhausted. It was very late, and his patrol usually took him a full hour—an hour to which he usually looked forward.

But, not tonight.

He and his apprentice, one Miss Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess, insufferable know-it-all, and bushy-haired annoyance extraordinaire, had been hard at work on Remus Lupin's wolfsbane potion. And, even though they had started on it directly after dinner, it had still taken four solid hours of excruciatingly precise cutting, chopping, and grinding—along with the careful attention necessary in timing the adding of each ingredient. This did not surprise Snape, as he was fully aware of how complicated a potion like wolfsbane was, but it still rankled him to think that he was, once again, being inconvenienced. Especially since there was no love lost between him and Lupin. In truth, they were just short of enemies, having only borne one another's company for the sake of their work in the Order of the Phoenix

"Blasted werewolf!" the potions master snapped, now unreasonably irritated. "Why can he not find someone else to do his brewing?"

Snape's boot heels continued to click angrily on the stone as he followed his well known path. With a scowl on his face, he threw open classroom doors to give each room a perfunctory perusal before flinging them shut again, with a satisfying 'bang'.

A short time later, he came upon a grisly, floor length portrait of Gregory the Great, triumphantly holding the bloody, severed head of a dragon before him. The great wizard was famous for single-handedly slaying four dragons in one night, thus saving the small, but burgeoning town of Hogsmeade from certain fiery destruction some 400 years prior.

Without so much as a glance at the venerable Gregory, Snape ripped the portrait away from the hidden doorway. Slipping behind it, he proceeded to slam the hapless dragon slayer's frame behind him so hard, that Gregory felt compelled to lodge a muffled, but no less indignant complaint.

"Really, Sir! A little restraint, I beg you!"

Snape only growled, as he swept through the darkened and close corridor. The smudges of light coming at intervals from the wall sconces did little to permeate the inky blackness. The corridor was, in a word, gloomy, but strangely comforting in its silence and warmth. He knew he would find no wandering students here. Only the teachers and Mr. Filch knew of this dusky passageway.

As he continued forward, he let his mind wander and found it resting on the inimitable Miss Granger. Certainly, it had not been Snape's idea to take her on as apprentice. That had all been Minerva's doing. The little chit had applied to her former head of house, and current Headmistress directly for help in attaining the position, not two weeks after her graduation from Hogwarts last summer.

Severus chuckled when he thought of it. Clearly, Hermione would have made a fine Slytherin. She had undoubtedly known that he would never agree to teach her without extreme coercion…And, Minerva had risen to the challenge…admirably.

The result had been an explosion of such magnitude that Snape had later wondered that no one had come to see if there were any dead bodies to pull from the wreckage. Snape had bellowed so loudly and for so long that he had been hoarse for a week. All to no avail…for, in the end, Minerva had insisted, just as vociferously, that he send the little interloper her contract immediately.

Hermione's first few weeks working with him, he had done everything he could think of to rid himself of her unwanted presence. He had been cold, even cruel. He had berated her unmercifully. He had set her to the most irksome of tasks, but she would not be moved. She, in fact, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. She was always smiling and busy about her work. Never once did she give him the satisfaction of a cross word, or a frown, let alone the fit of angry tears he so dearly wished to extract from her.

Eventually, Severus had been forced to capitulate. She was, though he had yet to admit it to her, an asset to his work. She was timely in completing her tasks, creative in her thinking, without being careless, and he had yet to find a potion she could not brew successfully. By mid year he had turned over to her all the brewing for the hospital wing, all the preparation for his classes, and much of the grading. He had even begun inviting her to help him with his private research.

In truth, he found he did not know how to get along without her anymore. Here it was May, approximately nine months after she had come to him, and he could not bear to imagine the time when she would not be at his side. Where he had once counted down the days when he would be at last released from his contract with her, now he found himself heaving a sigh of relief at the thought that he still had fifteen months in which to enjoy her company.

'Enjoy her company?' When had that happened? Another great sigh escaped Snape, as he realized that it was an apt way to encapsulate his feelings concerning her. He allowed himself to think more deeply on his…dare he call it a "relationship"…with Hermione Granger. Yes, why fool himself. He could not deny that he considered her…what? A co-worker? A companion? No. He must admit, if only to himself, that he considered Hermione Granger, the former bane of his existence, a friend.

Snape let this revelation roll about in his mind for a bit. He stopped walking, and squirmed uncomfortably, his face twisting thoughtfully.

No,he thought, his eyes widening with sudden realization. It is more than that.

Severus shook himself. How in Merlin's name had it happened! How had it come to be that he had given this chit such access to his life…to his very heart! With sudden fury, he balled a fist and rammed it into his other hand viciously. This could not be! He did not care for Hermione Granger!

He had never cared for any woman.

All right then,said a small insistent voice in his head. Then explain how it is that you 'cannot bear to imagine the time when she would not be at (your) side'!

"Silence!" Severus shouted, eyes flashing, fists balled.

Your words, not mine! the voice whispered sullenly.

The fearsome potions master let his shoulders slump in defeat for a moment.

"All right!" he ground out menacingly, as he resumed his march to the end of the secret passageway.

It was true, he realized miserably. There was something there, and he felt tortured by the knowledge.

What was he to do? Severus Snape had never found himself in such a predicament before, and he hardly knew how to handle it.

"She just cannot know!" he whispered fervently, pausing at the exit to the corridor. "She can never be allowed to find out!"

Of this much he was certain; he must keep Hermione in total ignorance of his feelings for her. For one thing, he knew she would never return his feelings, and he would not put himself through such painful rejection. For another, he knew he was not half good enough for her, even if by some miracle he could garner her affections.

In that moment, Snape's frustration knew no bounds.

Why did this have to happen now! he thought angrily. In all my 39 years of life, I have managed to escape such entanglements…

Wait just a minute. The inner voice was back. That is not entirely true, it reminded.

"Lily," Snape whispered, gently letting his forehead fall against the door in front of him in abjection.

Yes, Lily, the voice said, not unkindly.

Oh, how he had loved her! But, he had been forced to admire her from afar, just as he knew he must do now with Hermione. She, too, had been brilliant and attractive, with her good, solid mind, large green eyes, and long, red tresses.

She, too, had been…inaccessible. But, she had been kind to him. Even when everyone else had hated him, had been cruel to him, or worse, indifferent, she had stood up for him. And how had he repaid her? By calling her the most despicable of names…

Mudblood.

He had called that precious girl, who had never done him any harm, a mudblood. And all because he was embarrassed when she had tried to make James Potter, who had dangled him upside down in front of an appreciative crowd of his fellow Snape haters, put him down.

For a moment, Snape was awash in one of his most painful memories. He closed his eyes, bracing himself with one hand against the door. He saw again her lovely face…saw it cave in at his cruel words. He heard her defensive words in return. He remembered his heart ache after that incident, when she stopped acknowledging him in the halls, only lowering her eyes and chewing her bottom lip as she passed him. He had wanted so much to apologize to her, to make her understand that he really hadn't meant to call her that awful name. And, Snape had almost worked up the courage to speak to her, when she began dating James Potter, his tormentor.

He had felt sick at his stomach for a week after seeing them together for the first time. He could never approach her to ask her forgiveness after that. He could never risk James finding out that his favorite whipping boy had humbled himself like that. James was exceedingly arrogant, and would surely use the information against him, if he could find a way.

"Ridiculous pride!" he said through clenched teeth, chastising himself, as he slammed through the corridor's exit door.

No, he would not risk revealing his feelings to Hermione. One humiliating experience with women was enough for him. He would keep his own counsel.

Just like you did with Lily. the voice reminded self righteously.

"Oh, shut it, you!"

The painful little trip down memory lane, coupled with the very new realization that he might be in love with Hermione Granger, put Snape in one of his foulest moods. He was growling and hissing angrily, in an attempt to vent his unsettled feelings, as he approached the staircase leading to the astronomy tower. His one small comfort at this moment was found in knowing that he was sure to find a harvest of students from whom to take points. And, taking points always made him feel better.

Why the hormonal little dunderheads continued to frequent the tower was beyond him. He was there every night to clear them out, but still they came. Some nights he made more than one visit, especially if his day had been particularly frustrating.

Now very weary, Snape stepped onto the enclosed, winding stone staircase. It was chilly here. The tower staircase had always been something of a wind tunnel, making the slightest breeze seem like a rushing, wild wind. He felt a gust of cool air lift his hair and swish his robes, and it refreshed him.

He loved the tower. He had come to it often when he could not sleep after having been in the presence of the Dark Lord, or when the memories were too near, and he felt constricted by them…like he needed a wide open space, or he would quite literally suffocate.

The tower had been the only place he could go at these times.

He had often looked to the stars and felt the cool, gentle moonshine reach out to heal him. It was an incomplete healing, at best, but it took away a little of the pain, enough so that he could breathe again. And, sometimes, that small relief had been all that stood between him and insanity, or worse.

Now, as he reached the top of the steps, he quieted himself for a moment. It was always his intention on these raids to sneak up on any erring students when they were completely unawares. It gave him a little thrill to see the first couple he found jump, eyes dilated, explicit, palpable fear contorting their faces. It was a childish game he liked to play…childish, but nonetheless amusing.

Snape's eyes were already accustomed to the shadowy night, as the stairs had been without light, so he could see quite clearly to the balustrade several yards in front of him. He could see his first victim standing there, back to him, head tilted up into the velvety black, bestarred sky, hands placed on the rail in front of her. She was perfectly still and quiet. A playful gust gently ruffled her robes and waist length, unbound, curly, chestnut tresses, but otherwise she did not move.

Something made Snape pause in the doorway, as he eyed the girl before him. He knew her form, even in the soft moonlight. It was her, his assistant. It was Hermione.

For a moment, he considered what to do. He could leave her; give her the privacy she was probably seeking. Obviously, if there had been any out of bounds students here before her, she would have sent them about their business. He was not needed to do that job. Or, he could ask to join her. Perhaps she wished to talk, or even just bear his silent company. But, once again, something told him just to stay where he was, so he drew silently back into the shadows of the doorway to wait, for what he did not know.

Why was she here? He had never known her to seek out the tower. Of course, it was not for him to know all her activities when she was not at work in his lab…he knew that, but he felt reasonably confident that she would have mentioned it if she had been visiting the tower often. She tended to share little bits of her life with him in the course of their days together. He had found this annoying at first, but now he rather liked to picture her involved in her little habits and interests.

He knew why he came to the tower, for comfort in his troubles. Did she have troubles? Was she seeking solace, as he had done so many times before?

He knew she had had plenty to worry her when she had first come to take up her apprenticeship. He could admit he had been horrid to her. But, now…had he done anything recently to hurt or upset her? Snape thought about their evening in the lab brewing the wolfsbane potion. He had been clipped in speaking to her, but he often was when they worked. He was not one for small talk at those times. It had never seemed to bother her before.

After standing there puzzling and watching for another few minutes, Snape began to feel torn. He did not like to feel he was spying on Hermione, but at the same time he wished to be of assistance if she needed him.

Oh, this is ridiculous! I will simply approach her and ask her if she wishes my company. She is a woman with a mind of her own, and quite competent to know what she wants. If she tells me to go, I will.

Just as Snape was on point of coming out of the shadows to reveal his presence to Hermione, he saw her shift, lower her head for a moment, and begin to turn around. Despite his decision to speak to her, he found himself pulling back into the dim concealment of the doorway, once more.

The moonlight bathed her so that her face was clearly visible to the potions master. He held back a gasp at the sight. Her countenance was a mask of sorrow, tears streaming down her cheeks, forehead wrinkled in anguish. For a moment, Snape stood staring at her, completely at a loss. What in the name of Merlin was wrong with her?

At that moment, Hermione lifted a handkerchief to her face, and Snape heard a despairing cry escape her. He felt as though someone was tearing his heart out at the sound.

But, he was completely unprepared for what he witnessed next.

"Severus!" she sobbed gently, pressing the sodden handkerchief to her eyes once more. "How I wish you knew! How I wish I could tell you!"

Snape's eyes widened, and he felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest excitedly.

What could she mean by that? What did she wish to tell him?

He felt himself sliding further back from the door. Even in his extreme consternation he knew he must retreat from his current position with all haste. She would be wishing to leave soon, and it would not do for her to catch him watching her in what was obviously meant to be a very private moment.

His mind and heart reeling, Snape quietly wound down the steps as quickly and quietly as possible. His only wish was to escape detection and get to his quarters where he could sort out all he had seen and heard in peace.

Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, he swept to his right, and in a swirl of his black robes, sped away toward his chambers without looking back.