Sorry this took so long to update guys! The holidays were pretty hectic for me, but I'm back. I hope you all had a good Christmas and New Years! Okay, on with the story!

Hermione Granger lay in her Gryffindor Prefect bed, praying for sleep to take her; unfortunately, her mind was too busy to rest. She replayed in her head (for the hundredth time) her arrival to Hogwarts and everything that had gone wrong.

The Great Hall had been buzzing when she sat down at the Gryffindor table with her fellow classmates. Ron had complained about having to wait through the Sorting to eat (of course), and Harry had quietly waited with Hermione, rolling his eyes at Ron's impatience (of course). As food appeared on the table before them, and they began to eat, she felt something odd, something that sent chills down her back: someone was watching her. She looked up and around the hall, not catching anyone' eyes on her; she scolded herself for being so paranoid. But as the Welcoming Feast went on, and the feeling returned, she became sure that she was not imagining this. Hermione looked up once more, hoping to catch whoever was staring at her in the act, but yet again, she saw no one look her way. Growing tired of this, she justified it as some first year that was probably trying to look at Harry, who sat beside her. Hermione began to ignore it, and was doing a damn good job, too, until…

"'Mione, Snape is staring at you," Fred muttered from her other side.

She just shrugged, as if to say "whatever". Fred grinned and went back to talking to his twin brother again. The gears in her head started working double time. Snape. Huh. That explained why she hadn't caught her watcher in the act; when she had looked up, she had started looking around to her right, where the door to the hall was located, and the opposite direction of the staff table. Snape must have seen her raise her head, which would give him time to look elsewhere. Unfortunately for him, the chills being sent down her spine from his incessant spying were annoying Hermione to no end, so she decided to fix this little issue. She kept her head down eating, waiting for her to feel his eyes on her. As she felt shivers down her back, she reached for some pumpkin juice; as she grasped the pitcher, she shot her eyes up, not giving him a chance to look away. Their eyes found each other.

Hermione heard silence. She felt numb. Her eyes saw nothing but him. It was like the world had stopped its rotation, its revolution. Everything ceased to exist but eternal onyx eyes. Something had changed. No, everything had changed. She couldn't avert her eyes from the man she was seeing. He was so beautiful to her; she wanted to tangle her fingers his thick black hair, and she wanted to press her lips to his thin ones, and she wanted to be pressed against him, to run her hands all over his muscled body. She began to feel tingling and light-headed. She was confused and scared, yet curious as to why she could not tear her eyes away from Snape's. She was beginning to get seriously freaked out until he finally blinked and everything returned to normal. Suddenly, the Great Hall was too loud, and the smells of the delicious food in front of her was nauseating. She abruptly stood, startling everyone around her.

"I'm not feeling very well. I think I'm just gonna go check out the Prefect's Quarters. Night, guys," she managed to get out, turning and walking away, not waiting for a response from her friends. She felt weak and sick, and each dizzying step she took made it worse. She made it through the doors into the entrance hall, the doors to the Great Hall slamming behind her, before she collapsed and shut her eyes, unable to keep them open. She heard an odd sound, and it finally occurred to her that she was hearing her own sobs. She hadn't even noticed the tears that were running down her face.

No one saw her collapse. No one saw her cry. In fact. No one even commented on her abrupt departure. And no one saw a certain professor slip through the door, beside the staff table, black robes billowing behind him.

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape did not know what to do. He did not have a secret master plan, a snide remark ready at his lips, or the answer to unlock everything. He felt helpless, so very helpless.

As he watched Hermione Granger quickly flee the Great Hall, he felt scared. Scared because he knew he would have to follow after her and explain what had just happened. She hadn't looked good when she had left. Well, actually she looked better than good. She looked angelic. She just didn't look in control of herself, he mentally corrected. And he didn't want to see Hermione Granger out of control, he wanted to see her safe and happy, and in his arms.

He made a silent leave through the staff door, and began to walk to the narrow passage that would lead out into the entrance hall; as he turned the corner into the hall, he saw her collapsed on the ground in a shaking heap.

His heart stopped, and the air left his lungs. He ran over to her, gathering her slender frame in his arms. His mind was going a mile a minute and he couldn't think straight. With the small amount of sense he retained, Professor Snape realized that people would soon be leaving the feast to go back to their dorms; they could not see him holding her like this. Severus held her close as he stood, and quickly carried her down to the dungeons. She was still curled in on herself, emitting little sobs that broke his heart; he squeezed her a little tighter to his chest. When they reached his quarters, he quickly muttered his password to fox in the painting, which in turn, swung open and shut behind them. He set her down on the dark, espresso, leather couch. And then he hesitated; he hadn't thought far ahead enough to know what to do next. She was still a complete mess, though her sobs had quieted down to small whimpers. Perhaps I should get Remus, he mused, but quickly dismissed the idea, knowing that he must be the one to explain to her.

Of course he knew what had happened in the Great Hall, between him and Granger. It had begun with a simple wandering of his eyes, as he took in the crowded hall of students. He noticed Potter talking to his redheaded friend, and laughing at something Weasley had said. Complete dunderheads, he thought sourly, letting his eyes move to the person next to Potter; long, wavy, chestnut and caramel hair hung in a curtain, catching the light from the candles floating above them, blocking her face from view. He knew who it was, and that he should feel resentment towards everyone at the Gryffindor table, especially her, being part of the Golden Trio, but he felt nothing but wonder, watching her soft hair shine lightly. Suddenly, her head snapped up, looking in the opposite direction. He quickly put his head down, looking at the food on his plate that he had suddenly lost interest in. He peeked up at he through his black hair, seeing that she had gone back to eating. He slowly raised his head, eyes still locked on her. He couldn't take his eyes away from her, completely mesmerized by her long, shiny locks of hair. She looked up once more and he quickly averted his eyes. When he was sure she wasn't looking, he turned his gaze back to her. Severus suddenly realized that he wanted to see her face, to see if it was as stunning as her luscious locks. Yet when she looked up again, he turned his face away, not wanting to be caught staring at her. Why had he never realized she was so shockingly beautiful? He simply couldn't look away from her. And that was when he had finally realized what was happening; he began to find it hard to breathe. He tried to be logical, he tried to think: this was a student, a muggle-born, Harry Potter's best friend. And even though he knew he was treading dangerous waters, her presence demanded his attention and he couldn't take his eyes off her. He had to see her face. He had to. Severus saw her turn her head to talk to someone next to her; she just shrugged, but he noticed she stopped eating. Then she turned slightly to reach for something, but this time he couldn't find the will to look away. He knew what was going to happen a second before it did. Her head snapped up, eyes immediately meeting his.

And he finally saw her face.

She looked like an angel, the light creating a halo in her cascading hair that framed her heart shaped face. Her lips were soft pink, her bottom lip a little fuller than the top, and they were slightly parted in shock. Her skin was soft, creamy ivory, and her cheeks were roses. And her eyes, amber and honey, were lined with thick dark lashes. He could get lost in those eyes for days. Hell, he was lost in her eyes. Her brows came together in confusion and concentration, like she wanted to look away. But she didn't, and Severus was thankful for that. In that moment, he had lost himself, and found her instead. He would never let any harm come to her, he would watch over her, protect her, love her, now that she belonged to him. And he would hold her in his arms, and kiss her everyday, and he would give her pleasure and passion beyond anything she had ever experienced. Severus realized he was getting quite excited thinking about it and he took a shaky breath, and blinked. He watched as Hermione took that chance to break away from their connection. She quickly stood, looking a little shaky, and exited the Great Hall at an alarming pace. He immediately felt cold and anxious, not having her in sight. And then he had found her in a pile of despair, broken sobs leaving her lips.

Now, as he looked at her curled up on his couch, Severus didn't know what to say. What could he say? She was everything the Dark Lord hated, everything Death Eaters hated, everything Severus Snape was supposed to hate. But he didn't. Quite on the contrary, Severus found himself ready to give her unconditional love. But he had humiliated her, teased her, made her life hell for the last five years. How was he supposed to get her to trust him?

She was finally quiet, except her ragged breathing. She slowly lifted her head, taking in her surroundings. She was on a dark brown, leather couch in what appeared to be a sitting room. There was a matching couch across from her, and behind that, a wall full on old, worn books. Beside her was a matching plush chair to the couches, and a coffee table sat in front of her. There was a door behind her and a door to her right. To her left, a fire burned brightly in its hearth. And illuminated by the fire was a man. Though she refused to look higher than his waist, she knew who it was. And then it all came falling on her.

She had completely lost it in the entrance hall, not even knowing why her body was wracked with sobs, but knowing only the cause of it. Her head had been so fuzzy and she couldn't think straight. She had been so cold, and tired, and she remembered just wanting to go to sleep right there on the freezing, stone floor. But then he had shown up, pulling her into his arms. She hadn't opened her eyes and he hadn't said a word, but she had automatically known who it was. Hermione had been too tired to put up a fight, plus she felt warm, and so much better in his arms. He had picked her up, and cradled her to him as he carried her to some unknown place. She hadn't even cared what was happening, she just buried her face in his broad, muscled chest, inhaling his masculine scent. By the time they had reached what she now assumed to be his quarters, her was no longer sobbing, just emitting little cries that she couldn't quite control. He had stood, not moving an inch, just watching as she tried to quiet herself. When she finally did, she realized she didn't know what was next; she didn't know if she should thank him or try to make a run for it. He had been so nice, so sweet, so caring when he held her, but she remembered who she was dealing with. This was her snarky Potions Professor, who enjoyed humiliating her, breaking her down. And though she felt safe and so strangely attracted to him, she couldn't bring herself to trust him. So she made her decision, pulling herself up into a sitting position, all the while keeping her eyes down. It was silent for a few tense moments. And then she tried to run.

Tried.

She quickly made a run for the door to her right, yanking it open and slipping inside. She soon realized her mistake: it was his bedroom. She was spinning around in circles, not knowing what to do, when the door was yanked open and she saw him standing there, though she still refused to look him in the eye. She was cornered, like a caged animal. What does he want with me?

She heard him sigh. She was still looking down, when she saw his feet begin to advance towards her. She backed up and turned to run, then remembered she was in his bedroom; she had nowhere to run. With only one option left she went for her wand, only to have him grab her wrists from behind. She let out a sound of panic, struggling as she felt his front press up against her back. Her wand slipped from her grasp. With her wrists still in his grasp, he crossed them in front of her as she fought back, yanking and pulling, falling forward on the bed, taking him down with her. She wriggled beneath him as he flipped her over onto her back and pinned her arms above her head.

"Stop. Granger, knock it off," he told her, as she writhed beneath his body, still trying to fight her way out of this predicament.

"No! No, leave me alone! Stop, please!" She felt her eyes begin to fill with stinging tears and she still refused to look him in the eye.

"Hermione, please," he murmured, loosening his grip on her wrists. She stopped struggling and closed her eyes, letting out a ragged breath. Something in his voice broke her. He sounded so desperate, like he didn't want her, but like he needed her. He had called her Hermione.

"What do you want," she gasped out, fighting to not let her tears fall.

"Look at me," he whispered. And she opened her eyes.

It was like she was back in the Great Hall again. His black eyes met hers, refusing to look elsewhere. Everything about the man on top of her took her breath away.

"I'm not going hurt you." His eyes were sincere.

She swallowed, and nodded, eyes still locked on his. He let go of her wrists and pulled himself off her, and stood at the foot of the bed as she pulled herself up to sit at the edge in front of him. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and dragged it directly in front of her. Their eyes had never left each other's.

Hermione still didn't know what was going on, or why she was so suddenly comforted by her Potions Professor. She just knew that she trusted Severus Snape.

"Profess-"

"Severus," he cut her off, not breaking eye contact. She gasped a little at his request, but complied.

"Severus. Please…what's happening to me?"

CLIFFY! AH YAY! Okay, as I said before, sorry this chapter took so long to get out, I was just super busy for the last couple weeks. But I'm back now, and I decided you guys deserve a nice, long chapter. So there you go! PLEASE R&R! NEXT CHAPTER IS GOING UP IN THE NEXT FEW DAYS!