They had been meeting for seven weeks. Each session had been relatively the same. Hermione would leave dinner early and dash down to the dungeons where she would catch her breath and wait to be let into her professor's chambers. They would begin work immediately, discussing the theory behind a particular potion, breaking down the property of each and every constituent, and finally, producing the increasingly complex concoction. At the completion of work each night, Professor Snape would dash out of the room in a fury of swirling black robes punctuating his fluid flight with the slamming of a heavy wooden door. Each night, Hermione would show herself out.

It was a Saturday evening. They had been hard at work on a variation of the already exceedingly tricky wolvesbane potion. The hours of the night had long ago slipped away and morning was creeping up on them with nought a hint of subtlety. Hermione was enthralled, nigh, obsessed with her work, counting stirs, noting colour changes, watching for vapour consistencies. She finished a stir set and took a moment to rub her eyes and glance over at her professor. Sudden alarm struck her as she noticed that Professor Snape's eyes had closed and his chest barely rose or fell at all. Turning off the heat under her no. 2 pewter cauldron, she sped round the table and pressed her small fingers to the chink of skin peeking out from above his cravat. There was hardly a pulse. She had to think quickly. She drew a steadying breath and stood, levitating her professor so that he lay on the floor behind the stool on which he had sat mere moments before. She dashed to his stores and searched frantically for the small stone that she would see in a petite, glass jar. She climbed the rickety ladder with the wheels on the bottom, praying that she would find what she was searching for on a shelf of high priority. She was right. Clutching at the container, hurried down the ladder and back to her professor's side, dripping to her knees before ungracefully shoving the beazoar into his mouth. Seconds later a ragged and pathetic cough emanated from the man's throat. His eyes shot open and what she saw exactly mirrored what she had seen that night at Grimmauld place. He tried so desperately to gain composure but failed quite miserably.

Hermione was not going to relent, this time, she wanted an explanation. He could see it in the furrow of her brow. Snape sat up clumsily, scrambling to place his hands under him to support the weight of his body. Before he knew it she was standing in front of him, her palms were proffered to him for assistance standing. He took her offer and was momentarily caught off guard by the feeling of her fingers laced amongst his. When he stood, she wrapped his arm around her bony shoulders. Sir, I hate to be garish but I think that it would be best if you lied down. I would also appreciate it if you would let me make sure that you get settled" when she spoke, she sounded as if she was out of breath, or that she may have been coming down from a ferocious adrenaline high.

"I suppose that would be alright." he conceded as they walked deliberately over to the sofa. She sat him down and scribbled down 'tea' on the bewitched parchment that sat on the coffee table in front of them. "I'm getting the idea that you may be in search of an explanation for what you've witnessed, not once, but twice now."

"Yes sir, I would rather like to know, I've never seen a wizard react like this to a potion or a spell or…" she trailed off.

"I wouldn't expect that you could have encountered such a case. I should like to recall your mind to the evening of the great battle when you, mr. Potter, and Weasley… saw me in the shrieking shack. As you may remember, I was struck down by nagini and presumed dead. However, I had not yet expired quite yet. When poppy found me I was exceedingly close to gone but, in a moment of medical ingenuity on her part, she administered an exceptionally potent draught of the living dead. Since we have been discussing potions theory, you will understand that the concentrated dosage of powdered root of asphodel found therein can serve as a powerful anti-venom. Much to my...chagrin, the triage remedy worked but I have, needless to say, left with considerable lingering effects."

"And what are those effects, Professor?" she was curious, on the edge of her seat, the insufferable know-it-all.

"It's not quite so easy to explain. The main issue is a problem that causes severe insomnia followed by bouts of narcolepsy. After I fall asleep, I fall victim to the potion which still courses through my veins." she stared incredulously at him. "and the nightmares are horrible."

She didn't speak for a long while. "Professor, there must be something that can be done about this."

"I'm afraid that all avenues that I've tried have lead to dead ends."

The tea arrived and they sat on the settee, sipping in silence. "I will figure this out sir." He chuckled dryly in reply. She pouted, not having such a favourable attitude towards doubt. They sat in contented silence as Hermione mused, chewing on her sanguine lip. As she formulated, she realised how happy she was to be spending time with another human being. Having Harry and Ron gone left her alone nearly always. It was nice, she thought, and she didn't much want it to end.

They both fell asleep on the sofa, snoozing in awkwardly angled positions. Well after noon Hermione stirred and realised that her limbs shad become unabashedly entwined with the limbs of the potions master. Attempting to not alarm him she sat slowly and gingerly placed her palm on his cheek. His skin was warm and pale under her touch. She took a moment to study his face: the creases that formed under his eyes, the obvious hook of his nose, the thickness of his lashes where they lay upon his cheek, the strength in his brow. He was beautiful, she allowed herself to admit, in the most unconventional was imaginable. When she had finished looking at him she softly dragged her thumb across the plane of his face that lay beneath her finger. His eyes opened and she placed a steadying hand on his chest. He looked a fair bit less startled than he had when he had woken before. She made a mental note. "it's nearly half past two sir."

His eyes grazed across her face, landing in her rumpled hair. He let a small smile play at the corner of his mouth. He shook himself to absolute consciousness. "I think it would be best if you headed back to your chambers Ms. Granger. I shall see you back here on Monday evening." he turned on his heel and walked briskly through one of the doors that she had not yet been through.

A/N: please review! I'd love to know where you would like to see the story go from here.