Hermione stared at Snape for a long time. Then she stood and left the teachers' lounge without saying goodbye.

He stared after her, frowning. He didn't understand why he had asked her to call him Severus. Part of him still saw her as the silly little girl answering Potter's questions for him and helping Longbottom fix his abysmal potions.

But another part of him saw her only as the clever, talented witch she was now.

And the latter part of his heart was gaining more and more influence with each day that passed.

Hermione stood outside trying to control her breathing. "It's just a name," she whispered to herself. "Why do you care what he calls you? It's just Snape."

But she knew her reaction wasn't because he refused to call her anything but Miss Granger. She had reacted the way she did because of his request that she call him Severus.

"It's no big deal," she muttered to herself. "Ron. That's all this is. A belated reaction to your breakup. These aren't real. You're just looking for an outlet for these emotions. And after a six-year crush, he's the obvious choice."

Just inside the door of the staff room, Snape was frozen in surprise. He had heard most of her mutterings, but he didn't know what to make of them. He decided to pretend he hadn't heard anything. He left the staff room and, faking surprise, said, "Miss Granger."

"Professor Snape," she replied, avoiding his eyes and not even pretending she wanted to look at him.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired, suddenly aware that her bushy hair had been tamed, somehow. It was still thick, somewhere between curly and wavy, but it wasn't quite so wild. The frizziness was gone, allowing it to highlight the curves and angles of her face. Her hair was no longer her dominant feature, permitting Snape to appreciate the guarded intelligence in her eyes. If she would only look at him.

"No," she replied calmly. "I'm fine."

Snape reached out with one hand, touching her chin and tilting her face upward so he could look into her eyes. "Really?" he asked, part of him hoping she'd admit to him what she'd said to herself only moments ago.

"Yes," she whispered, aware of little more than the pale hand that still lingered at her jaw. Then she turned and fled toward her office. Snape only let his hand fall when her robes had whipped out of sight at the end of the passageway. He only let his hand fall when the burning sensation at the tips of his fingers had vanished.

Then he too abandoned the staff room for his office, grading papers even more harshly than usual, trying to stamp out all the mistakes, on the pages and in his heart.

It was more than a week before Hermione stopped avoiding Snape, before she stopped leaving the head table the moment he took his seat, before she stopped turning red and exiting the great hall without eating when she saw he was already there.

Finally, he grew frustrated and ambushed her in her office. When he appeared in the doorway, she said, "Professor." Then she looked away and said, "I would appreciate it if you would leave. I'm very busy at the moment." She dipped her quill in red ink and began marking up a student's homework.

Snape walked across the room and pulled the quill from her hand, placing it flat on the desk. "It can wait," he told her.

"No," she insisted, moving to retrieve her quill. He stopped her as she said, "The students want to know how they've done."

"No, they don't," Snape contradicted her. "In my experience, in all my years teaching, I have noticed that students don't look forward to getting their work back. Especially when the teacher is a harsh grader. And I hear the students. They complain about your grading policies almost as much as they complain about mine. They don't want to see their grades. I, however, want to know why you've been avoiding me."

When she tried to pick up the eagle feather quill again, Snape's pale fingers snatched it out of her grasp. "Well?" he asked.

She stood to be taller, but she was still looking up as she worked to meet Snape's black eyes. "I haven't been avoiding you."

"Haven't you?"

"Why do you care?" she countered, unwilling to admit it was because she couldn't forget the gentleness with which he had lifted her chin to meet her eyes.

He stared back at her as he debated on how to answer her question. Finally, "Meals are not nearly so… pleasant without you."

"What difference does one frumpy little girl make, Professor?" She put her hands flat on the desk and leaned toward him.

He looked into her eyes, and murmured, "One frumpy little girl makes absolutely no difference to me."

He watched as Hermione's face turned red with embarrassment, then stayed red due to anger. After several moments of watching her get more and more flustered, he added, "But you are no longer a frumpy little girl, Miss Granger."

As he stared at her, Hermione could see sparks flashing in his dark eyes, like lightning across a midnight sky.

Suddenly he blinked, the lightning disappeared, and his eyes returned to their cold, unreadable black. He dropped her quill on her desk, muttered, "Good evening, Miss Granger" and left without another word.

She stared after him a moment, then fell backward into her chair, uncertain of what had just happened.

The next day, Hermione sat down next to Snape at breakfast, and she didn't flinch back when his hand brushed against hers as he reached for the orange juice.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he said, his voice quiet. "You slept well, I hope?"

"Yes, Professor," she answered. "And you?"

"It has been a long time since I slept through the night, Miss Granger. Last night, though, was particularly restless." He had not been able to forget the unorthodox mix of confusion and understanding, defiance and surrender that had lingered in her eyes.

I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, surprised to realize that she meant it.

Watching her, he asked, "How are your classes, Miss Granger?"

"The seventh years don't feel I am qualified to teach them," Hermione replied calmly. "They know I was in my sixth year their first year. But it's all well and good. They complain, so I grade them more harshly. If they are taking NEWT level transfiguration, there should not be mistakes in their papers as it is."

"Very true," Snape replied. "Your other classes."

"They aren't too bad," she answered. "Your classes?"

"I hate first years." Snape's answer was quick and sure. Then he gave her a small smile. "And there's a certain know-it-all first year Ravenclaw that brings back memories of another student I had once."

Hermione could feel her face turning red. "Who?"

"I don't think you know her," Snape said. "She had bushy hair and crooked teeth. She knew all the information, but she lacked the ability to apply it to real life situations. The war changed her, though. She's still brilliant but she understands application. She's no longer a frumpy little girl but a beautiful, talented witch." Snape couldn't understand why he was saying these things, or where they were coming from. But he was having trouble stopping himself.

They had both stopped eating. "Are you trying to compliment me, Professor?" she asked quietly.

"What are you talking about, Miss Granger?" Snape asked. "I was simply telling you of one of my old students."

She smiled. "I need to go prepare for my second years, Professor."

He nodded. "Goodbye, then, Miss Granger." As she left the table, he called out, "Miss Granger?" She turned back, and he asked, "Would you join me for a drink at the Three Broomsticks this evening?"

She bit back a smile and nodded.

That evening, they met at the Three Broomsticks. It was a school night, so they ordered nothing stronger than butterbeer.

They spent the evening talking. At first it was trivial, the weather, their students, their classes. From there it gradually got more serious, resulting in a conversation about what they had been doing since the war. The majority of the conversation centered around Hermione, since Snape had spent nearly all of the time in the hospital. Slowly, she told him more and more, even telling him a bit about the fiasco with Ron.

Snape grew silent. Then, after several minutes, he asked, "What is it you are looking for in a man, Miss Granger?"

She looked at him, too bewildered by the question to even think about not answering. "Intelligence, but with a kindness to balance it and keep it from becoming arrogance."

"How did you end up with Weasley?" Snape asked.

"We—Harry had Ginny. We thought it was going to be the end of the world. Ron was there," she replied. But she hesitated before asking, "What do you look for in a woman, Professor?"

"The same," he answered quietly, acutely aware that Hermione fulfilled those requirements, and then some.

"Not beauty, Professor?"

"Beauty…" Snape mused to himself. "Beauty is like extra credit, Miss Granger. It's nice to have it, but it is not the most important thing." His voice seemed to hold a warning, probably to himself. But he had to bite back the opinion that Hermione deserved those bonus points.

She looked away, embarrassed, as she asked, "Do you even know what extra credit is, Professor?"

He smiled, aware that she gave extra credit as frequently as he did. That is to say, never. "Yes, Miss Granger, I do know what extra credit is." He glanced at the clock and, seeing it was past midnight, said, "We should return to the school, Miss Granger."

"I suppose," she replied, the reluctance in her voice only poorly disguised.

They stood and slowly made their way back to the school. Then he walked her back to her room, where they lingered for several moments without saying anything. Finally, he said, "Goodnight, Miss Granger."

She didn't move to open her door, just stared down at the tiled floor. Snape hesitated, then stepped forward, tilted her head up, and leaned in slowly. And, when she didn't object, he gently pressed his lips to hers.

Well, I suppose I should answer your reviews. But first, thanks to all of you who added this story to either your favorites or your alerts. There has been a stronger response to this story than to any other first chapter I've ever written. *face-palm* Kelsie, I blame you.

TkMomijiOXkisaHiro: First, I'm sorry if I got your name wrong. Second, I'm really glad you enjoyed it.

mkdircks: Thanks. I'm glad you think it looks good enough to continue reading.

notwritten: thanks. It's good to know the story is appreciated. :)

Accio Truth: Thanks for the support. In all honesty, I never would have thought of this pairing in my life (the pairings in the book? no problem. HarryxDraco, I could right that. HermionexSnape, what the ****?) but my friend told me I needed to write it. And, since I have no life, that's what I'm doing.