A/N: Alright, I don't want to lose any readers now! So let me explain something to you all ahead of time, because I have a few people who are getting pissed off at me about the way this story is going. XD Yes: Snape is an asshole. It's Snape. Do you really think that if this would have happened in the books or the movies, he'd be okay with it? Do you think he'd be okay with being turned into a werewolf, then finding out he'd mated with his student? Do you think he'd be okay with the fact he had to go on this TRIP with said student? And do you think he'd be okay with finding out he had sexual desires for her (and more)? I DON'T think so… lol

So, yes, he is going to be an ass through a lot of this for awhile, but he will also show softer sides, too. His wolf side is telling him that Hermione is his mate, that they belong together now, while his human side is denying it, because he knows it's wrong. He doesn't want to feel anything for her, but the fact is, he does. He's having a severe inner struggle, and since he's not the most…civil…of people…then yeah, he's going to treat Hermione in a way that's not so nice for awhile…

But I promise you that things will turn around and they WILL become lovers. It will get worse with the coming of the full moon, but then…well, you'll have to read and find out. But keep in mind the heightened aggression they both feel as a result of being werewolves and the approach of the full moon. And DON'T GIVE UP ON ME OR THE STORY! I promise you'll still love it. SO HERE'S A LONGER CHAPTER! LOVE ME! ;)

Chapter Seven: Breakdown

The trip went on with the added weight of a new burden. The tension between Hermione and Severus was so thick that it seemed to make the journey all the more unpleasant. Neither one spoke. Neither had anything nice to say, and they weren't in the mood for another battle of hurtful words and strength.

Hermione could not let her anger go. How could she? He'd offended her beyond all expectations, and slammed her into the dirt-quite literally! He'd used the term she hated most: mudblood. She could have killed him for that. After everything they'd been through, fighting that war, taking down Voldemort and his followers who believed in destroying all those who weren't "pure bloods," she could hardly believe he had the audacity to use such a profanity. The nerve!

And yet, at the same time, she was angry with herself. No, she'd never liked the term mudblood. No, she didn't appreciate having accusations thrown at her. But why had she reacted with force? Why had she been dead set on beating his face in (not that she stood a chance of doing so)?

She had punched Draco Malfoy once before. She had been so mad at Ron a few times that she had reacted in violence. But she could easily justify herself on those occasions. Draco had provoked a wild animal, then lied in order to sentence the beast to death. Ron had crushed her heart several times, and, well, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?

But Snape…He was just being Snape. He had subjected her to very compromising questions concerning why she'd been sleeping with him, so she'd slapped him. He'd called her a mudblood out of anger, so she'd assaulted him. Didn't he have a right to throw her off? Didn't he have a right to be angry with her?

The part of Hermione that cared whether he had those rights or not was quickly overshadowed by the part of her that didn't. She didn't feel like herself anymore. She felt…trapped, rushed, pissed off, annoyed: and the list went on and on. She wanted to run away. She wanted to leave Snape behind as well as the rest of the existence she'd come to call her "life." She was beginning to feel…like she didn't belong anymore.

And that angered her even further.

Severus, on the other hand, had managed to calm himself. Being "friends" with Remus, if that's what one wanted to call it, had taught him that becoming a werewolf brought with it a vast number of changes, most of them unpleasant. Therefore, he could reason that situations like this were bound to happen. Did that mean he had to like them? Of course not. In fact, Severus felt much hatred, mostly toward himself.

On one side of the coin was his wolf half, which told Snape that Granger belonged to him: that they now "belonged" to one another. The need to be with her, to possess her, to be a part of her, was so overwhelming at times he had to fight back the urge to simply tell her the truth. Surely someone as smart as she could understand what had happened. He hadn't meant for things to go down the way they had the night of the full moon, but what had been done couldn't be undone.

But on the flip side of that coin, his human half dismissed all such thoughts. He knew she would not understand, and for good reasons. He was significantly older than her, even if she was of age to have such relations with. He was her teacher-had been her teacher since she was eleven. She had always disliked him, and he had never cared for her in the slightest. So why in the name of Merlin would she ever be able to understand?

He agreed with all of the things she'd find so absolutely wrong about the situation. And that was part of the cause of his own constant state of agitation. The other part lay within the memories he kept buried deep inside himself, the memories Potter no doubt relayed to Granger and Weasley following the war.

Although his body might tell him that Hermione was his lover, as absurd and disgraceful as it were, his heart still belonged to Lily Evans. Pathetic how he couldn't seem to move on. He simply lingered in the past, mourning over a lost love-something he'd always frowned upon students for. And yet, the image of her death haunted him the same as the memory of having to kill Albus Dumbledore. It weighed on his heart like a ball and chain, imprisoning him within the dark depths of loneliness.

Far be it from Snape to ever admit to such weakness. So he kept his mask of animosity toward the world firmly in place. Even though Granger no doubt knew of that one part of his past, even if she did manage to get close to him-something he'd most assuredly resist-he vowed to never open up to the girl. Nor would he tell her the truth of what happened in the dungeons that night unless it was absolutely necessary.

While he watched her speed off ahead of him that day, it did not escape his notice that she was becoming more agile, nimble, more animal-like in her movements. The way she leapt over fallen trees or from one rock to another, the way she seemed to glide when she walked or ran, told him that she was acting on her werewolf abilities. There was a little more than a week left before the full moon showed itself again, so this didn't surprise him. Instead, he began to wonder when he himself would take on such traits. Granted, it took Granger until nearly her second transformation to gain the side effects.

A stream was up ahead. His eyes followed her graceful form as she weaved out of the trees and stopped on the bank, bending down to splash her face with the cool water. Severus stepped up onto a rock a few feet from her, scanning their surroundings in relation to where they'd been, and where they still needed to go. His face was grim as he thought of how far they had traveled already with nothing to show for their trouble. He was fast losing hope of ever finding the two plants.

One might wonder where he'd gotten the ingredients to begin with. Well, he certainly had had no need for them before Remus Lupin took a position at Hogwarts. The stock Snape had kept in storage was compliments of Fenrir Greyback. The werewolf had not been at all concerned about whether he was tame during his transformation. In fact, Greyback would agree with the statement, "the more feral, the better."

Fenrir had been given the herbs necessary for the Wolfsbane potion, but had scoffed at the idea of using something that would make him "inferior." As a joke, he'd given the rare items to Snape.

"What is it you do at that pathetic school, Severus? Teach children to make potions?" Greyback laughed as he dropped a box upon a dark, wooden table. "Here, see if you can find any mutts to cure who aren't proud to call themselves wolves!"

Snape had not found the joke particularly amusing, but he'd picked up the case anyway. One could never have too many stores of different herbs. Perhaps one day he would find a use for them. Who knew he'd ever actually come in contact with other werewolves, let alone become one himself?

Already tired of this game of needle in the haystack, Snape scowled at the horizon as he spoke. "I think a rest might prove useful. We're nowhere near our goal anyway, so I see no harm in taking a break. It's a rather warm day, even here in the mountains."

Hermione said nothing, nor did she look at Snape. At the sound of his cool voice, she found herself fighting the urge to throw him another punch, which he'd surely deflect.

Snape's eyes came to rest on her crouched form at the water's edge. His eyes narrowed at the expression he found on her face and the lack of response his statement had elicited.

"Come, Granger, you have to speak to me sometime."

Her head swiveled round to show him that she was indeed still upset with him. But she turned quickly away again before she could say something that would further worsen the situation.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Or, you could act like an immature child again instead of placing your head firmly back upon your shoulders and resuming the day with some dignity," he spat.

She stood and spun to face him, unable to stay quiet any longer. "You're a foul, despicable man! You have no heart, do you?" she growled. "You're just a mean spirited, bitter old man! And how dare you accuse me of something so horrid, so vile-something I'd never consider in my entire life? I can't believe you!"

"I'm sorry!" he shouted, having tried to get the words out sooner, but had been unsuccessful due to her outburst.

She stopped talking and stared at him, admittedly surprised by the fact that he had apologized. She'd never heard Snape utter those words before.

"Let me ask you this, Miss Granger," he began in a soft voice as he stepped closer to her as he spoke. "What if the situation had been reversed? What would you have done if you had awoken to find me-Heaven forbid-in your bed…with you…?" He had to stop himself from actually imagining that she might enjoy that scenario.

He was right in front of her now, and she tried to step back as a strange, giddy feeling began to form in the pit of her stomach. He came closer still, his fingers delving slightly into her hair as he continued. His actions were partially meant to make a point, but he let his urge to touch her guide him.

"How would you feel if my arms were wrapped around you…so close, so…intimate…?" His dark, velvety tone sent delicious shivers down her spine, and his nearness, along with the gentle caress of his hand against her golden brown locks made her feel slightly weak-kneed. She fought back the moan that wanted to roll off of her lips.

"You would likely assume…that my intentions were unquestionably dishonorable, that I meant to act in a way that was profoundly inappropriate."

Hermione did not question his reasoning, because she knew that he was right. At least, on that subject. She backed away from him again, and this time, he did not move toward her. Her eyes were narrow, and he could make out something like betrayal in their deep, brown depths.

"You called me a mudblood," she said coldly. He did not reply. She went on. "How dare you, after everything we've been through just recently? How can you use such a deplorable term? I thought you had been on our side-on Dumbledore's side! Unless the part of you that remains a Death Eater still thinks I should be dead because I'm muggle born!"

An emotion very similar to regret crossed Snape's features then. Somewhere deep inside him, he felt a sense of shame. She was right. He had been on Dumbledore's side. He had not believed whole-heartedly in Voldemort's ideal of magical superiority. He did not truly believe that all those born of non-magical parents were useless and inferior in any way. Granger, for being muggle born, was indeed the brightest young witch he'd ever taught at Hogwarts. Lily Evans had been just as bright, and she, too, had been born from muggles. He remembered making the same mistake before, with her…

He had called Lily a mudblood…And he hadn't meant it. He hadn't meant it when he'd used it against Hermione either. He had simply been trying to distance himself from her, and pushing her away with that one, derogatory term seemed like a good way to go about it at the time.

For a brief moment, Severus's eyes took on a sorrowful look. He met her gaze, his voice very quiet as he said again, "I'm sorry…"

That didn't seem to be good enough for Hermione. Her face didn't soften in the slightest. He stepped forward again, reaching out a hand of apology, although he was startled at his desire to touch her for the sole purpose of easing her distress.

She growled and slapped the hand away. "No! Don't touch me!"

His face clouded slightly, his dark eyes no longer showing that momentary vulnerability. Her fist came up, and he stopped it easily. "Calm yourself," he said blandly.

"Why should I listen to a snake like you?" she hissed.

He frowned. "Because…I know you are not acting rationally. You are being controlled by the animal that lies just beneath the surface. It is a side effect of becoming a werewolf, something you will need to learn how to control…"

She pulled her hand out of his grip. "You know nothing! You don't know anything about me!"

"Listen to yourself!" he challenged. "Do you hear what you're saying? Look at what you're doing. Are you normally this violent? Isn't it at all unusual for you to be filled with so much hatred? I understand why you are upset with me-you are perfectly justified in your rational-however that does not call for such rash behavior."

At last, his words seemed to sink in, penetrating the thick veil of rage that had clouded her judgment as well as her heart. Her eyes lost their fire, her face becoming less severe, her angry expression now docile. She now looked remorseful, defeated. Vulnerable.

Snape took another step towards her as her eyes fell. It seemed his words had reached through to her human soul. But now, as he continued to study her face, it seemed the emotions would soon be too much for her to handle.

And he was right. Suddenly, her willpower failed her, and with a sob, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold herself together. Her chest heaved as she fought back the coming tears.

"What's happening to me?" she asked in a voice that was very strained. Unsure of what to do, Snape simply stood there, staring at her. "I don't want to be an animal…I don't want to feel like this anymore…I need help…"

She sank to her knees, unable to hold back the overload of emotions. Her entire body shook with the sobs she allowed to escape. She bent her head, her hair falling about her face in mussed, brown curtains, and she continued to hold herself in this distraught state.

Perhaps a man with no heart could have turned away and let her suffer alone. And maybe that's what he should have done-what he would have done had it been anyone else. That's what his mask of animosity would tell him to do at that moment. But contrary to popular belief, Severus Snape did have a heart, and to see such a strong woman brought to her knees in tears wrenched at him. His expression softened once more upon watching her suffer, and he knew she had good reason to show such weakness. Such tremendous changes would take its toll on the strongest of men.

If it had been anyone else, Snape probably would have offered a few words of encouragement masked by his usual cold indifference. However Hermione's distress disturbed him for some unknown reason, and he found he couldn't just turn away from her with a few poorly chosen words.

And so it was with much hesitation and reluctance that Snape kneeled before her and pulled the girl into his arms to offer what little comfort he could. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder as she wept, distressed and not knowing who or what she was anymore. He allowed one hand to stroke her hair, but he did not say any words to console her. What could one possibly find to say? What words of comfort could you give to a werewolf?

And much to Snape's surprise, he did not feel possessive when he held her. He was not overcome with lust or need or desire. Instead, he was filled with something much, much different. He knew enough to know it was more than simple affection. Compassion? Was it just the fact that he did genuinely care for her? It couldn't possibly be more than that.

Even so, he continued to hold her, his head resting upon hers, letting her know that she did not have to go through this alone.

Since they were nowhere near their goal, Severus decided that one day of rest would not hurt them. He could see that Hermione needed a chance to regain control of her body and her emotions, and to come to grips with the changes she was being forced to endure. So they made camp by the stream and took the rest of the afternoon off from their quest. Severus suggested that she do something relaxing, something that would take her mind off of her present troubles. She had nodded her agreement and…to his great misfortune…had decided that swimming would be the perfect activity to relieve her stress.

Now, he sat quietly in the shade, trying to keep his eyes from straying to the stream where she swam almost naked in the cool, crisp, clear mountain water. This task was nearly impossible, of course, for she always seemed to take on the most provocative posture. A few times when he glanced over, he found her floating leisurely upon her back, her breasts poking out of the water along with the tops of her thighs and her small, delicate feet. Other times, she would be standing further away beneath the small, trickling waterfall that cascaded down from a tree-lined hillside, her arms about herself modestly.

Other than that, she didn't seem to mind the fact that she was almost nude in front of an older man. Snape began to wonder if stopping here had been such a good idea. He was slowly growing more irked by the minute, the sight of her innocent activity arousing him once more. When she stepped out from beneath the fall and stretched, her head tilted back and her eyes closed, he had to look away with a groan. It was torture…Much more of that, and he'd surely find himself in a world of trouble. Damn the witch for being so desirable. Merlin's pants, why couldn't she be ugly?

He shook out his hair and tried to clear his mind of all things related to her. He was growing increasingly hot under all his black robes. He figured it might do him good to feel cool water upon his own skin. He stood, then, not daring to look in the girl's direction as he let his cloak fall to the ground before unbuttoning jacket. After he'd slipped that from his shoulders, he pulled off the white shirt underneath, fully exposing his upper body.

Forcing himself to look anywhere but at Granger, he stalked over to the stream, placing himself far from where she swam. He crouched down and splashed his face, then rubbed the water over his heated arms and chest. It felt grand, and he was half tempted to take a swim as well.

He scowled up at the tree line. No way in hell, he thought. Not while she was in the water. Even as he tried to push the thoughts away, images of his arms wrapped around her as they stood completely naked beneath the falls assailed his brain. He imagined touching her, stroking her belly and her thighs, massaging her ample breasts, his hard erection pressed firmly against her backside…

He growled and stood, turning swiftly to retrieve his clothes. Damnable witch! She had managed to penetrate his mind! Every thought he had of her anymore was contaminated by disturbing thoughts and images. He couldn't find peace whenever she was near.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he found her standing before him, blocking the path to his shirt and robes. He stared down at her where she stood clad in only her red one bikini. Why the devil did she have to choose red of all colors? Severus had to force his eyes to remain on her face, lest he surely receive another well-deserved slap. He said nothing, however, finding himself at a loss for words. His countenance was less than amused, though. He looked rather annoyed, which was an understatement.

Hermione had walked over to ask Snape a question, but when she was met with the sight of her shirtless potions master, she'd immediately forgotten what that question had been. Her eyes traveled from his face to his well toned chest and abdomen that were littered with scars. The right side of his neck bore the evidence of Nagini's attack as well, but overall, she was surprised to find that what lay beneath his dark robes was very appealing. Mouthwateringly so, actually. He wasn't the picture of a male model, but for a man of his age, he was fit and lean and very masculine. Gods! Who'd have guessed?

Without thinking, Hermione lifted a hand slowly to touch the bare skin of his chest, her eyes vacant as if she were in a sort of trance. She was brought out of her fascination quickly, however, when Snape's left hand shot up to grab her wrist. Her eyes darted to his face and she found that his expression had become much darker. He seemed almost angry, but he didn't say a word.

Her eyes fell once more, this time to his forearm where the Dark Mark had once been. Now the evidence of his time as a Death Eater had faded, never to return. She frowned as she continued to stare, the reality of who this man really was flooding back to her in a wave of momentary fear. In many ways, he was still a mystery to her. Every time she, Harry and Ron had thought they'd known exactly who Snape had been, they were proven wrong. Even after Harry had revealed the truth of Snape's loyalty to she and Ron, new questions emerged. Who was he really?

Snape's face became slightly less irritated, yet he looked suspicious as she continued to examine the Dark Mark on his arm. "What?" he bit out, somewhat self-conscious. He wasn't proud of his past by any means, and he didn't want to be questioned about it.

"Nothing," she said hastily. "I was just thinking..." She shivered at the thought of how exactly the Dark Mark might have been placed there, along with the reminder of what it had represented. "Did it hurt…?" she asked, slowly looking back up into his face with a look of concern and…sympathy?

His eyes grew hard, and he released her wrist, yanking his arm away. He side-stepped her and headed for his clothes, replacing them immediately. Hermione watched him, regretting her question and her curiosity. She should have known he wouldn't want to talk about it. She was well aware he regretted the decision to join Voldemort in the first place.

X-X-X

The evening was upon them now. They had agreed that they would continue their journey in the morning, although they had decided to take it slow. The chances of them finding the Wolfsbane and Fanged Geranium soon were very slim, considering they'd been searching for almost a month and had found no sign of either one. But as hopeless as it seemed, they could not return to Hogwarts until they were "cured." If they did, then they would be putting the entire school at risk.

Hermione had set up the tent a few hours before and she now sat inside, reading another book she'd brought with her. Unfortunately, she found she was unable to concentrate on its content, and in the end, closed it with a sigh.

What if they couldn't complete their mission? What if she was doomed to be a savage, wild beast every full moon? What if…

"Miss Granger?"

Her head turned in the direction of the tent flap from her place in the rocking chair.

"Are you decent?"

"Y-yes," she answered him, taken aback by his presence.

He stepped inside, his eyes finding her easily. His face was neutral, and she was at least thankful he wasn't annoyed. She didn't want to risk another argument, because that also meant potentially giving into the werewolf that lay dormant inside her.

"I was simply…checking up on you. You've been in here for hours."

Hermione looked down at the book in her lap, uncertain of what to say to his concern. "I'm fine," she said, although it was partially a lie.

He wasn't fooled. He could see the doubt written all over her face, even though she tried to hide it. He walked over to her quietly and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, though he still couldn't pinpoint why he felt the overwhelming desire to comfort her. She tilted her head to peer up at him, not used to seeing this man care about someone else's feelings.

"We'll find it," he said in a voice that was sure, although he, too, held his own doubts. "I promise you, Miss Granger, we will not stop looking until we have."

Setting the book aside, Hermione stood and faced him. "How can you be so sure? We've been out here searching for almost a month. The full moon is a week away. How many more full moons must we endure before we find it?"

"I…I don't know…" he admitted.

She let out a shuddering breath, the hope all but gone from her. Severus placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "We will," he said, his voice assuring and confidant.

She seemed to analyze him and the words he spoke, assessing their value, trying to convince herself that he was right. In the end, she was no more able to assuage her own doubts.

Snape lowered his hand. "Rest. We will continue on in the morning."

He turned to leave, but she stopped him, grabbing hold of his arm. "Wait! Please…"

Slowly, he turned his head round, not wanting to hear what she was going to ask of him, but forcing himself to remain polite.

"Don't go…," she pled. "Stay…"

Severus gaped at her, suddenly at a loss for words. Of all the things she could have said, why that?

"Not…not in that…way…Just…"

She fumbled for words, now feeling foolish and awkward for even daring to ask such a thing of him. She willed herself to look up into his eyes instead of being a coward.

"I need someone…I just need to feel…Safe…From myself, from everything. I want you to…stay with me…like you did earlier…Please understand…"

Unfortunately, he did understand. She had hit her breaking point. She couldn't take much more and she needed to be comforted. Snape knew that he was probably the last person on earth in which she wanted to confide in, let alone take comfort from, but seeing as how Potter and Weasley were not there to take away her pain, the burden fell to him. How could he deny her? Surely he wasn't that cold? That insensitive? Surely he could bend to her request just this once?

He didn't want to. He really did not want to invite trouble for himself. She was asking him to stay the night with her, to sleep with her so that she could have an object of comfort, something to help her feel safe and secure and not so alone. But she did not understand what she did to him, or why. She had no idea what shocking reality he knew and had to face that she did not.

And yet her eyes were pleading, her slightly parted lips silently begging for him to oblige her single request. Just one night to help a comrade. Surely that was not too much to ask?

Severus closed his eyes and tilted his head back, heaving a sigh. God help him and save his sorry soul. "Alright…" he conceded. "But just…for tonight…You are to never ask this of me again, do you understand?"

Dumbfounded that he had actually decided to honor her request instead of berating her the way she had fully expected him to, she nodded. He turned to head back out of the tent. "Change. Let me know when you're finished."

Hermione did so quickly, so as not to keep him waiting, wondering, too, if this was such a good idea. She wanted him with her for comfort, and yet…something else had driven her to ask him to stay. For a moment, she wondered if she should be worried about that undefined emotion. She didn't have time to dwell on the matter long, however, for soon, she was dressed in her modest nightclothes and calling him back inside.

Snape sat on the bed and removed his boots before moving to lean back against the headboard, his eyes reluctantly finding Hermione. Thank God she was wearing something much less revealing than her bathing suit, or he would most definitely be stuck in a compromising situation.

She climbed onto the bed, not daring to meet his eyes, evidently embarrassed. A slight smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth at this observation as she curled up on top of him, laying her head upon his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, trying not to think too much of this situation. She was simply a student who needed a source of stability, and he happened to be the only other person around.

Why did it make him feel insignificant to know that if there had been others in the mountains with them that she wouldn't have asked for his help?

He frowned, unconsciously running his fingers through her hair. What a blow to the heart that was, knowing he was not really important to her in the slightest. She would gladly trade his presence for the presence of another if she were able to do so. His eyes drifted downward as her hands clutched sleepily at his shirt. Her eyes were closed, and her light, even breathing to him that she was asleep.

He tried to throw the blanket back over his true emotions and to place the mask back over his face. He tried to bring back the terrible image of the world he fed himself in order to keep his deepest, most private feelings hidden away. But he was unable to do so. For some inexplicable reason, he found himself desiring something that went beyond the physical.

He desired her trust. He wanted her to be able to come to him with her troubles and her sorrows without her wishing he were someone else. He wanted her to see the man beneath the mask, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he wanted these things.

Though, as he lay there holding her, gazing down into her pretty, peaceful face, his hand entangling itself in her soft, brown curls, he knew she never would…

A/N: There. I hope that makes you all happy. He has feelings. He's being nice! XD For now anyway…Didn't plan on this chapter actually…not all of it. It just sort of…came to me. Hope you all like it!