Hermione nearly didn't go to breakfast the day after her encounter with Professor Snape. But she was glad she did. It was obvious she had done him a world of good, even from her vantage point across the Hall. He still looked tired, but the anxious energy was gone, leaving only a mellow weariness that spoke, to her, of healing. His skin looked better, too, and she found herself smiling. It didn't matter if he hated her after this. She really had helped, and even he had to realize that.

She kept an eye on him at mealtimes until Potions the next day and patted herself on the back for his marked improvement. When he ignored her in class, rather than single her out, she took it as a good sign. And when he asked her to stay after, she wasn't even afraid.

When she approached his desk, however, that began to fade away. Although the room had emptied, he took his time, staring down that enormous nose at her with black eyes that gave nothing away. She had been so confident and yet, now, standing before him, the air thick with the memory of what had transpired the last time they had met, Hermione couldn't seem to meet her professor's eye.

"Miss Granger," Snape began at last, drawing out the syllables in his usual dramatic way, "honorable… as your intentions were... Wednesday evening… that must never happen again."

"But…"

"Quiet. Now is the time for listening, Granger." She gulped, but said nothing as he stood and turned toward the board behind his desk. "Had I been in control of my faculties…" he purred, somehow demanding the same respect even with his back to her, "I never would have allowed that to happen."

Hermione huffed. "And now you are in control," she blurted out, "which is entirely the point."

Snape spun around to face her, slamming his hands down on the surface of his desk. "Damnit, Granger. How dare you presume to tell me…"

"There's too much at stake! You were exhausted trying to keep ahold of yourself. It was draining you. And you have so many important things that demand attention and energy… you couldn't continue on like that for long."

His eyes flashed, anger glinting in their fathomless depths, and she knew she had made a valid point. "Granger," he tried again, his voice becoming impatient, "this shouldn't be your choice to make."

Hermione balked at that. "Excuse me?"

"That is…" He dropped his eyes to the surface of the desk in what she was surprised to see was embarrassment, "under the circumstances… my… acquiescence… cannot be considered... consent."

Oh. Hermione sat back in her chair. She couldn't argue with that. "I… I didn't mean…" she started, "I wasn't trying to…"

"Yes well, your intentions cannot change the facts." His eyes were hard, now; chastising. "I must ask you not to do it again."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. "Sir, you should consider, at least. Is your pride, or your revulsion of me, worth risking the Cause? Or even your life?"

"It isn't that simple, Granger. You are my student… a child…"

"I am a legal adult…"

"You are a student in my charge."

"And we have a war going on. That changes everything."

For a moment, to her shock, he seemed at a loss for words.

Her confidence surged. "And…" she hurried on, "if you can't consent now, when you're level-headed, how will I ever be able to take your word again?" He scowled at that, straightening to his full height and turning away from her again. "You should consider, Professor. The fate of the Wizarding World is at stake and you have a vital role to play. I'm sorry that I'm your only option, but I am an option. It only makes sense to take advantage of that."

Professor Snape let out a frustrated sigh. "It isn't that simple, Granger…" He seemed to be searching for a better reason and coming up empty. Hermione sensed that his anger was rising and was afraid he'd shut her out altogether and not give the thought a chance.

"Listen," she said, pushing her chair back to stand, "the effects of the curse are usually only mitigated for a day or two, so we're running out of time. I'll visit you again tonight, after dinner. You should still be in control by then, don't you think? Just think about it, Professor. Please. Really consider. There's a lot on the line."

Snape hesitated for a long moment, his back to her, his posture rigid. "You'll want a note for your next class, I suppose," he said at last. And then he sighed and turned to address a scrap piece of parchment to Professor Binns without once meeting her eye.

…..

Hermione was a good ten minutes into supper, chomping at her roast beef while reading for Transfigurations, before she realized Ron wasn't sitting with them. The jolt of realization had her eyes darting up and down the table in surprise until she saw him a ways off, sitting with Lavender Brown.

Her jaw dropped.

He was giving Lavender all his attention; a broad, happy smile on his face. If she hadn't known better, she never would have guessed he'd been in a serious, committed relationship only a couple of weeks ago. Of course, it was hypocritical for her to be upset about him moving on when she was taking the steps she was with Professor Snape, but it still hurt to see him so over it, so ready to move on, so eating up whatever nonsensical drivel that idiot Lavender Brown was spouting.

No. No. That wasn't fair. Lavender may not have been Hermione's best friend (and hardly her intellectual equal), but she didn't deserve such harsh criticism for the mere fault of having drawn a stupid boy's undiscerning attention. If anything, Lavender was more his speed, more his style. They could have a meaningless, tension-less physical relationship and probably both be satisfied by that. Who was she to begrudge him that when what he had to offer was not enough for her?

And still she found herself sulking, glaring at the page she was supposed to be reading without taking in a single word. Why had she thrown herself at Ronald, knowing it could not work out long term? And why was she upset that it hadn't?

Lavender laughed unreasonably loud and Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes at the vapid blonde. Honestly. Like I care.

She turned her attention to the high table and let her gaze fall upon Professor Snape. He was scowling at his plate in serious contemplation, frozen in his chair. She thought about the way he'd felt inside of her and had a sudden strong desire to have him do that again. And in a blink it didn't matter what Ron was doing with that airhead Lavender Brown. She could have him. Beside their professor, he was just an awkward, fumbling teenage boy.

…

"You should know…" Professor Snape began once she had seated herself in the chair before the very desk where he had… taken her just two days ago. "I have spoken with the Headmaster."

Hermione's mouth fell open and heat flooded her face. "What?"

"Naturally, it was vital he be made aware."

"But…"

"Granger! Do not tempt me to take House Points for speaking out of turn." He paused, letting those words sink in, then glanced away. "He was very… logical about it." Hermione could hardly breathe. Was he saying what she thought he was? Snape cleared his throat. "You have asked me to consider your… repellant proposition. And I have." Her heart sank. She wanted to argue with him. Already, fear was rising up inside of her, riding on the coattails of her shame. They needed every advantage in this war. The world was at stake! The lives of her closest friends were on the line. Her own parents were in danger. How could he be so stubborn? But then she noticed the dejected slump of his shoulders and the hesitant way he studied the surface of the desk. He must have realized she had noticed this because he stood and began to pace.

"You are in possession of some manner of contraceptive?" he asked, not looking at her.

"Yes," she breathed, her shoulders relaxing even as her heart began to race.

"You will retain the right to refuse me at any time."

"Of course."

"And you… you will go to the Headmaster if I ever…" he couldn't seem to finish.

"Yes."

He sighed, some of the tension leaving his weary frame, though the crease between his eyebrows only seemed to grow deeper. "I still have not decided. That is… I still plan to avoid… this. But," he hurried on before she could object, turning to look down at her with wary eyes. He sighed and it was a sad, defeated sound. "I will give you my consent."

...

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