Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I want to thank everyone who reviewed this! It makes writing it more fun. The smut is approaching more slowly than I thought it would, but I promise it's coming.

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Severus Snape was a man who liked his privacy. He always kept his distance from people at the school, especially students. He found small talk utterly unbearable, and when he took the time to get to know someone, it was usually a disappointment. He didn't understand why he was suddenly noticing the Granger girl, but he told himself it was mere curiosity. Something had changed about her, and it was bothering him that he didn't understand what. She had come back looking smaller and more fragile than he remembered, and she rarely spoke in his class anymore. He had never been able to stand the girl. While other teachers were delighted by her mind, he had been annoyed by her need for approval. It struck him as the product of insecurity, and he found her need for validation deeply irritating.

Somehow, without her unnatural enthusiasm, teaching had become even more draining. He had little time to ponder this mystery while he had her in class, since keeping his idiotic students from killing themselves required his full concentration. It was during meals that he often found himself watching her. She looked especially fragile then, surrounded by her peers. She seemed smaller than she used to, more timid and pale. She sat listlessly prodding the food in front of her while beside her, Ron devoured everything within reach. From what Snape could see, it didn't appear that anyone noticed the changes taking place. He tried to broach the subject with Dumbledore without revealing his growing fascination with the young girl.

It was an unusually clear night, and as they strode across the dewy lawn toward the castle, Snape stole a glance at the older man's serene face.

"Severus, is something on your mind? You've been giving me the most peculiar looks this evening."

"I was wondering if you had noticed anything different about Miss Granger this term. Though I must admit that since she has spoken less in class I've found her presence much less irritating, the girl seems troubled."

Albus sighed. "She is at a difficult age, and changes in her behavior could simply indicate that she is unsure of herself and growing accustomed to a changing identity. She has not acted out, nor have her grades during the term suffered significantly, so the best thing we can do is give her the space to grow into the woman she's becoming."

"She looks unwell."

"I think," Dumbledore continued, "that considering the accomplishments she has shared with her close friends during her time here, we can trust that she is in good hands."

Snape knew that pressing the matter would cause nothing but trouble. Dumbledore was an unusually brilliant man, but like her equally idiotic friends, couldn't admit to himself that something wasn't right.

Every time he saw the girl, she seemed weaker. He wanted to speak with her, to find out what was going on, but feared that his attention would only cause her to retreat deeper into herself. As he watched her standing over her furiously bubbling cauldron, she seemed to grow paler by the minute. He wasn't aware that he had stolen closer to her, afraid that she would collapse, until he heard himself speak.

At the sound of her name, Hermione blinked, her eyes clearing as if her mind had suddenly returned from some distant place. Reluctantly, the potions master returned to his desk, reprimanding the girl and insisting that she explain her behavior at the end of class.

As the students began to clear out, Professor Snape noticed an anxious look crossing the girl's face before she gathered her things and walked toward him. As he started to reprimand her, a delicate pink flush crept up her cheeks. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of thought had caused the sudden change, but the tiny rush of excitement in the pit of his stomach was quickly replaced by the heaviness of guilt. The blush didn't fade from her cheeks a moment later as he had expected. Instead, it deepened and spread over her face, suddenly taking on an unhealthy hue. He noticed her knuckles whiten as she gripped the desk.

"You look unwell. Do you need to go to the hospital wing?" She quickly declined, looking alarmed. He was instantly behind her as she turned to leave, searching for a way to stop her, to find an answer to the questions flooding his mind. She wobbled on her feet as she took her first step away from him, before sinking into his arms.

Her body felt smaller than it had looked beneath her robes. Snape felt something protective swelling inside him as he took the alarmingly light girl in his arms. He cradled her to his chest, pausing for a moment. It would be best to take her to the hospital wing immediately, yet… Yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. He remembered the look on her face when he had mentioned it, and knew that he would have to handle the situation very carefully if he wanted to avoid leaving her more broken than she already was, if he hoped to gain her trust.

Sighing, he carried her over to the supply cupboard. Pushing the door open with his elbow, he shifted her weight to one arm and reached past a collection of dust caked vials on the top shelf. His long fingers quickly found the latch, and the shelf slid back revealing a dimly lit spiral staircase.

Laying her on the dark leather couch in front of his fireplace, Snape laid a blanket gently over her limp body. He cringed inwardly as something shifted inside him, responding to her beauty and vulnerability.