Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter. I really enjoyed reading all the responses. Thanks also to the many follows and favorites. This is one of my favorite chapters thus far, and the longest one yet, so let me know if you like it too!

Chapter 7: Wonderful

"This," He pulled another vial from his drawer, "is the new potion I was researching this summer, with your assistance. I have tried it only on myself and Mr. Potter. You may,"

"I'll try it." She stood.

Yet again, he was taken aback. "I have not even said what it—"

"I can guess. I did assist you. It's to combat the effects of—"

"Trauma." He finished for her. "It began years ago as a new, stronger formula to cure the effect of prolonged torture by wand— to help recover Frank and Alice Longbottom, actually— but I was wrong in my approach. The already existing potion targeted too much the physical aspects of the after effects. It only worked if administered soon after and with limited reach.

"It was, it may interest you to know, a muggle book on post-traumatic stress disorder, coupled with my own training of the mind, that led me to believe the cure rested in one organ, the brain. I focused my studies on that, as you probably noticed, treating the source of physical manifestations of stress, not the symptoms themselves."

"That's brilliant." She beamed. Yes, he rather thought so.

"As of yet, this final batch you helped me to develop does show some success, but both the subjects have also some exposure to Occlumency."

Judging by her expression, she saw the rub.

"Miss Granger," He wrapped his hand around the vial, restoring it to his drawer. "I have a proposition to make." She seemed interested. Good, he thought, perhaps this would work.

"I would like to tutor you in the art as well, in exchange for you being my 'guinea pig', as the saying goes, and allowing me to test the effect on you as well."

She scrutinized him for a moment. "You already suspect it will work and would not ask me to try it if there was a significant risk." She was correct. "You are offering to help me."

"You helped me, if you recall." He barely spoke. Her brow creased slightly as if she did not understand what he meant. He tried again, "Then in exchange for helping you, I accept your assistance in penning a potions text and in writing up my research on this potion to be reviewed and published."

She considered it for a moment, then nodded. "That way, we work together."

What had he just agreed to? Then again, what would he not have agreed to?

Whatever Minerva insisted, Hermione Granger was precariously close to not being alright at all. He suspected someone had been following her. This had triggered her to go into the mindset of dueling, and though whoever it was had likely left, she had interpreted the sights and sounds to be the same as her last time she'd battled in that corridor.

"You've been avoiding your routine?" He asked.

"Entirely."

"Including meals I see." His expression was unchanged, but she shifted under it nonetheless. He had not seen her take a meal in over a day, and then they were irregular at best.

"I went to Harry's to warn Ronald."

"I see." He sat. Following his lead and invitation of hand, she sat across from him. "And did you eat there?"

"Well,"

"Join me." He cast his hand over the table, tinkling the little bell again.

She seemed surprised, as she did every time he extended familiarity or curtesy of any kind, but she accepted his invitation.

"How did it go?" He asked, as Minerva had suggested.

"With Ron?" She was even more surprised he inquired after her personal affairs. "Alright, I suppose. He was a bit shocked, but being that it was magical, he understood no one was to blame."

"He was concerned, no doubt, about the motivations and method by which it came to you. Tell me, did he fall on your side of things or mine?"

She frowned. "Well, I don't think Ron got that far." He raised an eyebrow for more explanation. She got his meaning. "He was rather shocked."

Unbelievable. The boy had not even thought that far. He was either not so concerned with her protection as he was his own feelings or he was too stupid to deduce that meant a threat. His face clearly gave away his opinion.

"He's got a lot on his plate at the moment." She defended.

"As do I." He reminded her gently as the food appeared. "And Potter?" He uncovered her dish first, a roast with vegetables, indicating she should eat.

She shook her head. "I did not get the chance to talk to Harry."

"So you are still possibly being followed. Your plan did not seem to work, though no disaster came of it."

"I don't know that precisely. It may have been my imagination. Perhaps they have not gotten wind of it yet."

"Everyone has gotten wind of it." He said through his teeth.

"Have they?" Her voice went up a notch. "It hasn't caused you too much trouble?"

"Hardly. Though you have the pity of many, I assure you, few dared to even mention it to me and those that did meant well."

"I'm sure they did." She agreed, with a hint of humor.

"I am relieved your boyfriend," She flinched almost imperceptibly at the word, he noticed. Curious. "Did not react jealously, but that leaves us back where we started."

"Well, not exactly. If my attempts have been unsuccessful, we have eliminated one motive. This makes it more likely you are the target."

"I was not the one being followed." He reminded her.

"It's possible I was not either."

"The alternative is that you imagined the entire thing and nearly attacked students, myself, or Mr. Filch's cat. Do you truly believe you were so wrong?"

"I don't know." She put down her fork. "I don't seem to be so sure of anything anymore."

"You've skipped meals, been not quite yourself, isolated yourself… tell me when is the last time you slept through the night?"

She looked down. "When Sirius died."

Years. It had been years. "Why have you not come to me?" He asked quietly. A potions master, maker of dreamless sleep draught. She would have known he had spied then, was in the Order. Did she always distrust him, like the others? "Did you not trust me?" He asked.

"Of course I trusted you." She sounded insulted. "I didn't want to look weak."

"Damn Gryfindor."

"You've had worse." She whispered to her spoon.

"Listen to me," he stared into her eyes, bore into hers unrelenting. "Your mind was younger and less accustomed to violence than mine when you were first forced to fight for Potter and Riddle's antics. Just sixteen. I did not become a Death Eater until I had graduated Hogwarts, and there was certainly no deadly attack in the halls where I was supposed to be safe. Then again, he next year you fought as they entered the castle. Dumbledore gone. Less safe. Then tortured, then again fighting here in these halls, death, suffering around these corners.

"The troll that attacked you, when all things magical were so new, the escaped killer, the werewolf teacher, being nearly killed by the Basilisk, these did not faze you. I saw it. But finding out Pettigrew was under your nose, that Moody was not who he seemed, standing helpless by as your friend fumbled his way through games he was ill prepared for at best, games which killed a child older than you—these things effected you."

"You saw it?"

"I am very perceptive."

"You are. I thought I was hiding."

"You were, hiding your own potential behind your friends, fighting Potter's battle so long you are at loss to live a life your own."

"You make me sound very pathetic. Is that what you think of me?" Her eyes shone with tears.

"That you are brave and care more for your friends than you do for yourself? Yes. And these things I admire, but in excess they are foolish and can be your undoing. I would not waste you and your value for them."

It took her a moment to collect herself. "Thank you." He nodded, feeling a change of subject was in order. He did not want her emotions to leave her feeling any more exposed.

"What shall we arrange for our…work?"

"Whatever is convenient for you, sir." Came her quick reply.

"Are you free Saturday evenings?"

"Yes." She answered without hesitation.

"Very well. We shall convene Occlumency lessons on Saturdays at seven in the evening, if that is acceptable."

"Quite."

"Once we have made some progress, we will test the potion on you. We can arrange time for our written projects later."

"Yes, sir." Her formality irked him. Had he not extended friendship?

"You helped me wake from sleep, if I recall correctly." The memory was blurry and her face was surprised he seemed to recall as much. "I shall help you rest soundly once again. You have my word." He promised evenly.

"Then I have no doubt I will." She said sweetly, standing. "Thank you for healing me and for dinner."

"I expect you to dine with me Saturdays." He said with his back to her as he made to open the door. "You will need to replenish your strength afterwards, and I wish to see you are not neglecting yourself. Miss Granger," He cut her off before she could object to her being looked after. "You will take care until in case the master brewer strikes again?"

She smiled. "The master brewer?" Her voice held laughter. "I will be careful. And you?"

"It is a habit." He said slowly. He'd had years of it, never mind that it was suffocating him, biting back his words and choking back all his emotions.

"Goodnight." She passed him.

"Goodnight."

His mouth twitch upwards in a smile though his face did not manage to hold it.

How strange. She had a civil conversation with-– no a civil, private meal with—Severus Snape.

He had agreed to help her take control of herself again, and he had accepted her help in return. It would be the perfect place for her to start her post Hogwarts life, having written a paper on such an invention that would help so many after such a harrowing time, and even to assist on a text with research. A field of research, editing, writing—those were areas she could see herself in, enjoying.

There was victory in that, a small one, but that hope along with a proper dinner and a steady ankle, returned a spring in her step.

There was another victory too, though. She knew there was someone else inside that black clad potions master, someone underneath the austere expression and cold words. There was a man who time and time again helped Harry, who thanklessly risked his life out of loyalty to Dumbledore. He was at heart, she had guessed, the gentle sort of man who loved few as friends or otherwise and loved so passionately that, despite his disposition and tone, did so without recompense, without failing or relenting. And tonight, she had glimpsed that side of the man. No, he had showed himself to her, as if they might one day be friends.

That too was a little victory. Her mood had taken a straight upwards turn as she headed towards the common room.

"Hermione, there you are!" Ginny rushed to her in the hall, breathless. "Are you alright? I heard you were attacked in the corridor! Did you see who it was?"

"I'm fine." She shook her head.

"Do you think it's whoever slipped you the potion?" Ginny murmured.

"I don't know." Hermione admitted. "I don't even know if I—never mind. I talked to Ron."

"Does he know you were attacked?"

"No, and it was not so much an—it happened when I got back."

"What happened?"

"Snape helped me."

Ginny's eyebrows went up, but she said nothing at first. "Hermione, I'm sorry about earlier. I did not mean to insult you or professor Snape. He's not so bad." She shrugged.

"Thank you, Ginny. I suppose I just get a little defensive of him. He's been so unfairly treated, you know."

"You always had a weakness for those sort, didn't you?"

"I suppose."

"House elves, Harry, Neville," Ginny laughed. Hermione smiled back, happy they were on their regular, friendly terms again. "Ron's going to be furious when he finds out, so is Harry. I just can't imagine," They walked on towards the common room, "who it is that's targeted you with a love potion."

"I think," Hermione glances around. "It's someone who wants to break up me and Ron."

"Really?"

"I think so because you see if someone had access to poison me, they could have just poisoned me. And I think whoever was following me earlier was trying to see if their plan worked. I should have been more upset after speaking to Ron…"

"Wait, so you think some crazy broad wants you to break up with my brother so bad that they drugged you to come on to professor Snape?"

Hermione nodded, but bit her lip. It sounded less likely when I was phrased like that.

"If you say so. You are brilliant, but, Hermione, be careful, okay?"

"I always am." She assured her friend as they paused outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. But in that moment, she felt a deep, ridiculous instinct to be completely and totally reckless. She was tired of being careful.

"Fireworks." Ginny told the portrait, which swung open for them. "We're still on for Wednesday?"

"Of course."

"Do you want to get some butterbeers and chocolate? Catch up a little in your room?"

"You know, that would be great."

Half an hour later, Hermione and Ginny were lying on their backs on the brunette's bed, laughing. Hermione clutched her side. Hot chocolate and a pile of strawberries and scones laid on the table nearby.

"Poor Harry! He actually thought that would be romantic?"

"I guess. Someone must have told him."

"So what did you do?" Hermione gasped for air, still laughing.

"Played along of course." Ginny sniggered. "What was I supposed to do?"

Hermione could not contain her peals of laughter. "Shut up, Hermione." Ginny said, still laughing, smacking her with a pillow. Hermione could not help it. It felt good to laugh so hard again, but their fun was quickly ended.

There was a rush of flames, a flash of green, and professor McGonagall brushed of her evening housecoat of soot, stepping into Hermione's room. "Miss Granger, I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Not at all, Headmistress." Said Hermione as both girls stood. "Something wrong."

"Granger, you had better come with me. Miss Weasley you may as well. Maybe you can talk some sense into your brother."

The pair exchanged a glance, then followed the headmistress. There was more chattering in their wake. There always would be, she supposed. "Get to bed, all of you!" McGonagall told them out of habit.

They did not go to the Headmistresses' office, but to the hospital wing. A cacophony of shouting trembled through the door. Hermione took a breath, giving Ginny an annoyed look before the door opened. She returned it, already extracting her wand. She knew her brother.

There were four people already in the room when McGonagall's shoes tapped impatiently into the infirmary. One was Madam Pompfrey. She was a bustle of white attempting to shove a solid black clad figure onto a hospital bed. Ron and Harry were also there. Ron gesticulating wildly, Harry trying to hold him back. The deep voice emanating from the tall figure by the bed confirmed it was Snape.

There were too many insistent voices to make out what anyone was saying. "Silence." The Headmistress demanded. Silence fell. Her arms were crossed, expression hard.

"Poppy," She said nicely. "Please shut the door and make certain we are not disturbed."

"My patient." He protested. A single shake of her head made it clear this did not matter. There were more important matters to discuss. Poppy made her exit.

The Headmistress flicked her wand at the door once they were alone.

Hermione spoke first. Snape's nose was bleeding. "Ron," She said through her teeth. "What is going on here?"

"He's a potions master, Hermione!" Ron jabbed his finger at said man.

Harry spoke. "Ron is so thick he reckons Snape slipped you the potion on purpose."

"What?!"

"Or maybe not, but he let you kiss him! I'll bet he enjoyed it too!"

"Hardly." A deep voice drawled in disgust. She tried to ignore the sting that threatened to spread.

"Ron. What. Did. You. Do?"

"I punched him."

"Ron!"

"Are you alright, professor?" Ginny asked gently. Hermione nearly started.

"He broke his nose." Harry said levelly. Ron had the nerve to look a little proud.

"Maybe Madam Pompfrey can straighten it out for him." Ron teased.

"Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall's appall straightened him out momentarily.

Hermione eyed Severus. His wand was out, hand holding a bloodied handkerchief to his nose.

"Ron, you've got it all wrong as usual." Ginny pocketed her wand. "Snape saved Hermione. She was attacked today."

"What?" Harry's head spun to her first, eyes narrowed. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"She broke her ankle." Snape corrected.

"I tripped."

"What the hell is going on here?" Harry demanded, more worried than angry.

"Miss Granger," Snape began to explain.

Hermione stopped him, explaining quickly. "I was slipped a love potion. I kissed Snape. He found a cure. I thought it was an attack on his character, but he thought it was an attempt to get at me. In case that was so, I did not try to cover it up. I thought that might satisfy the person if they were trying to ruin Ron and my relationship. Today I was being followed. I overreacted and I tripped, broke my ankle. Snape healed it."

"Handy."

"Ronald." She said warningly.

"He kissed my girlfriend!" Ron defended.

"I told you I kissed him." Hermione corrected.

"Yeah, but that's not exactly the whole story, is it?" He snapped. That stopped her short. She felt the eyes on her.

"Well, I—"

"What about the first time?"

"The first time?" Ginny repeated foggily. "Hermione, what's he talking about?"

"Miss Granger is attempting to save my—" Snape began.

"Wait stop." Hermione held up her hand. "Where did you hear that?"

"Him!" Ron stabbed his finger over his shoulder again. "Before I hit him."

"So, let me get this straight." She took a step forward, arms crossed against her chest. "You seemed stunned but fine when I left. So when did you decide to come attack Snape? After drinking? Talking to Harry?"

Harry put up his hands in innocence.

"I'm not drunk, Hermione." Ron replied. "I was not upset with you, but I don't see how he did not know what was going on, how he couldn't stop you before you kissed him. I didn't know he'd helped you or that you were being targeted." Ron said honestly. "I was defending your honor."

She couldn't quite make sounds, just exasperated and uncertain noises.

"At first, I came to talk about you, about if you were okay,"

"You came to discuss me?" She breathed, her eyes stinging. It was like bees were attacking her.

Oblivious, Ron continued. "And then he told me about the first incident, him attacking you."

"He did not attack me. He was drugged as well."

"I'm a little insulted." Snape said. Hermione felt something catch in her throat. More stinging. "That you are so convinced I would force myself on my student."

"Well, I—I mean, er," He fumbled. "It happened twice."

"Exactly." Ginny said firmly. "Someone's being targeted."

"And he was first. That's why you think he was the target." Harry caught on.

"I agree." Ron said. "He's got more enemies than you. But I'm not convinced he hasn't enjoyed it. He had the nerve to tell me I was bad boyfriend— basically said I was not paying enough attention to you and he was looking out for you."

That surprised her, as did Ron's hurt tone, but Snape interrupted him. "Once again, you've shown your capacity for absorbing information, which is remarkably wanting. There are much more serious matters to discuss, Mr. Weasley, than your jealousy. Like the threat to Miss Granger."

"If she's in danger, it's because of you."

The two glared daggers at one another.

"Have we any suspects whatsoever beside professor Snape?" McGonagall spoke at last. "This is third time I've spent my evening with this. I do have another job. Of course, you are a priority, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled understandingly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her voice expressionless. "But I'm an adult, Professor. I can look after myself. As you said, you have another job and hundreds of students to look after. I think the target here is professor Snape, but if I am the target, then that is my concern. And I'll handle it."

Minerva looked at a loss, as if she wanted to say something, but had no right. At Harry and Ron, she looked pointedly.

"Ron," She sighed. "If you wish to help me, you can best do that by telling everyone we're taking a break."

Ron's face and arms dropped. "Are you—are we b—breaking up?"

"No. Not at the moment." She said unsympathetically. "But if that's what someone wanted, and you think they would hurt me, it may keep them from doing so if they think their plan worked."

He nodded, words knocked out of him. Harry watched his friend sympathetically.

"Thank you for your concern, all of you. But contrary to popular opinion I do not need to be cared for or looked after; I'll be fine. Goodnight."

She turned to face Snape, whose face was contorted with something he seemed to want to voice. Hermione raised her wand, widening his eyes. He made no defense. She performed a wordless spell, fixing his nose with a snap.

She had turned on her heel and was leaving the hospital wing before he could speak.

"I can't believe him!" Ginny was on her heels.

"Me either." Hermione gritted her teeth. She realized her wand was still out as she stormed through the corridors.

"Sorry my brother can be so daft."

Hermione nearly tripped over her feet. She had not been thinking of Ron at all. "Oh Ginny, you don't have to apologize for your brother."

"I know." She huffed. "I know you love him, but I don't blame you if you make him wait it out."

She appreciated her friend sticking close, but at the same time wished she was alone. Hermione listened to Ginny rattle on about the situation until she could finally take her leave.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Want to go to Hogsmeade?"

"Sure, maybe. Goodnight, Ginny."

"Night."

She was surprised how quickly the tears case with no water and no jazz. Her routine was completely ruined. She slumped down to the floor, a sound making her jump, but it was just a sob.

She felt the exact same as she had the last time she were in Hogwarts without any friends. It was Halloween and she was crying in the girls' bathroom. No one liked her. She was a nightmare, Ron had said. Just a buck toothed, plain faced, bushy haired bookworm. Not even a girl, so far as he'd noticed.

Strange how Hogwarts could be a place of fun and adventure, a home, to those with friends—her, Harry, and Ron, the mauraders, the twins. Without friends, it could be torture. Snape, Luna, herself on her own. No wonder that man kept to the dungeons.

That… man. He could have remained silent. He was good at remaining silent. But he had chosen to speak up when Ron had said he'd enjoyed the kiss.

'Hardly.' He had said. She cringed, crying harder in embarrassment. She had not thought about it, it had felt so natural at the time, but she maybe a bad kisser. She couldn't really remember what she'd been doing when he kissed her the first time. Maybe it was awful. Maybe that's why he would not do it again.

Hardly.

Suddenly her memories of the episode in his chambers, the sweet kiss he'd placed on her cheek, were soaked in humiliation. She had not thought herself particularly tempting, but now she knew in fact she he saw her at best as just some student and at worse a inhuman, insufferable know-it-all, one he could hardly enjoy kissing. In fact, the very idea of it was 'insulting'.

And then, her skin began to burn from her fingers up her arms to her chest. Outrage. They had discussed her, if she was alright, how she was to be looked after, taken care of—it was degrading. She thought it was concern for her out of a sense of comradery that led Snape offer to help her, but it was pity and a belief in her general incompetence.

Every moment of the last couple of days replayed in her head with shame. She cried harder. Why go out of his way to let her know how undesirable she was? It's not as if she'd asked him to, or ever claimed she was anything special.

She'd at least always been adept. Now, thanks to her moment of weakness, Snape had managed to convey to the Headmistress and her friends that she was so damaged she was practically useless. Great. Superb. Wonderful.

A/N: Oh dear, how will this be salvaged? Thoughts on Hermione's condition? I thought it logical. Ron's outburst? Guesses on what's going on?

Bad news is, I ran into some serious plot complications recently. Good news is, it was in chapter 10 and 11 and seems to be mostly fixed, so I'm looking forward to posting more of this IF there's interest.

If I had such readers and reviews for my original works, maybe I could write them at the same speed. wistful sigh.

As always, thanks for reading!

Yours,

Elsie