Snape began to worry when the train began to move and Hermione still hadn't arrived. But then the compartment door flew open and Hermione stood before him, breathing heavily, her face flushed. "I lost track of time," she said.

Snape just watched her a moment, trying not to laugh. Deciding he didn't trust himself to speak, he stood and helped her lift her trunk into the overhead compartment. "Do you really need this much for two weeks? Don't you still have stuff back home?" he grunted.

"Most of it is gifts for everyone," Hermione replied defensively.

Snape grimaced, once again acutely aware of the fact that he had yet to even think of a gift. Sitting down, he asked hesitantly, "Miss Granger, why was your mother so curious about whether or not you're seeing someone? And why is she so insistent on meeting him? On meeting… me?"

She turned and sat up against the window, her feet in the seat next to her. She didn't really want to talk about Ron, but that was the only real explanation for her mother's actions. And Snape was coming with her for Christmas, despite the fact that it obviously made him uncomfortable. He deserved an answer.

"Four years ago, I moved in with Ron," she finally said. Snape felt a strong pang in his chest, a feeling he immediately associated with James Potter. Jealousy. But he managed to bite back a snide remark, knowing it would likely hurt her more than it would help him. Hermione, looking at her hands rather than his face, didn't notice his agitation. She continued, "It was about six months later that we got in our first real fight. From then on, it was every week, sometimes every other day. And then, one day, we both lost our tempers. A lot of dishes got broken. A lot of curses were flying. We're honestly lucky nothing irreversible happened. But then I left, and I haven't gone back. I guess we should have known it wouldn't work. They say opposites attract… maybe that's true, but after a while you just end up ticking each other off because you're too different." She sighed. "That was more than three years ago. Mum is worried. That's why she wants to meet you."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger." Snape barely managed to force the lie past his lips. He wasn't really sorry at all. He was angry with Ronald Weasley for hurting her, and perversely happy that the relationship hadn't worked.

Still not looking at him, she asked, "What about your last relationship, Professor? Who was she?"

Snape didn't say anything for a long time. Then Hermione looked up at him, her hazel eyes pleading. He sighed. "I was in love with Lily Evans."

Confusion crossed Hermione's face. To Snape, it seemed like an eternity before Hermione asked the question he least wanted her to ask. "Harry's mother?"

"Yes, Miss Granger."

Faced with the truth, Hermione froze. Then she asked, "Does Harry know?"

"Yes."

"Is that the real reason you always seemed to hate him?"

Snape didn't want to be answering these questions. He feared she would turn away from him or, at the very least, it would ruin their first Christmas together. "Yes, Miss Granger. I was bitter that Lily chose Potter instead of me."

Now Hermione was faced with a choice. She could continue the relationship and risk making the situation impossibly awkward for everyone involved. Or she could end it and save them all the embarrassment.

The problem with the second option was that it would hurt him and make her miserable.

"Oh forget it," she suddenly said. She had made her decision the moment he had first kissed her. Her heart wasn't going to let her change her mind now.

Snape looked startled. But he managed to conceal the hurt on his face. "Miss Granger…" He wasn't nearly so successful in disguising the same emotion in his voice.

She looked at him and frowned, concerned. Then her eyes widened and she sucked in a horrified breath as she realized he thought she meant the relationship wasn't worth it. "Professor," she said, her voice hurried and slightly panicked. "I meant that I'm going to forget how awkward my being with you will make everyone feel. It doesn't matter anymore. I don't care how awkward or embarrassed anyone feels. What makes me happy shouldn't matter. You make me happy." She switched seats so that she was sitting next to him instead of across from him. She squeezed his hand and gave him a quick kiss. "I love you, Professor. End of story."

He responded by pulling the younger teacher into his lap and wrapping her arm around his neck. "No, Miss Granger. Not the end. The beginning."

He kissed her once, and she smiled back before saying, "I always knew you were a hopeless romantic at heart, Professor."

"Is that a bad thing?" He honestly didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

"No. It's cute." He watched her, uncertain how to respond to that statement. Never in his life had everyone even hinted at suggesting he might be cute. She added, "It's cute as long as it's not all the time. And if you ever sing to me, I will kill you."

He laughed quietly. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss Granger."

She turned and pressed her forehead to his, happy to be sharing the moment with him. She was happy she had been able to tell him about Ron. She was happy he had trusted her enough to tell her about Lily. He was relieved that his confession had not scared her away.

At the moment, all she wanted was to stay in the gentle arms of the man she had fallen for in what seemed like only a few days. All he wanted was to keep holding the young woman in his arms, caught in this perfect moment forever so he wouldn't ever have to let go of what was quickly turning into the best thing that ever happened to him.

But when he kissed her, no matter how gently and tenderly he did it, when she kissed back, something took over and neither of them could control it. Neither of them stopped kissing, neither let go of the other, holding on for dear life.

She turned her body toward him more and more, moving until she was straddling him, one hand on his chest, the other tangled in his hair. And his hands were instinctively moving to places part of him felt he had no right to be touching. But Hermione didn't object.

Unfortunately, the plump witch with the food cart slid open the door to the compartment. Before she saw them, she asked, "Can I interest you with some food from—Professors!" She had looked up to see Hermione's robes twisted around her and her hair disheveled. Snape's pale face was slightly flushed and his normally slicked back hair was entirely mussed. They both looked more than a little startled.

The witch hesitated then said, "Sorry for interrupting." The door slid shut again and Snape looked at Hermione, who was still straddling his lap.

Dryly, his face holding no amusement, he said, "She's likely been scarred for life."

Hermione stared at him for several moments, trying to determine if he was being serious or not. But then she couldn't help herself; she began giggling. It wasn't long before Snape began laughing quietly right along with her.

When she gained control of herself, Hermione pulled her trunk out and pulled out some muggle clothes, being careful to conceal the contents of the trunk from Snape. She didn't want him to see his gift. She proceeded to turn away from Snape and pull her robes off. "Miss Granger!" Snape objected as his face colored to a shade of pink it hadn't been in many, many years.

She looked over her should, her face even redder than his. "Professor?"

He turned his eyes toward the window, struggling not to look at her. "Do not do things like that without warning me first, Miss Granger. And for god's sake, don't just stand there! Put your clothes back on!"

She complied, pulling on a t-shirt as she asked, "Does seeing me without a shirt bother you, Professor?"

"No, Miss Granger, which is precisely the problem." Before he could stop himself, he added, "Now is neither the time nor the place."

As she pulled on a pair of form-fitting jeans, Hermione smiled through her embarrassment. She hadn't been thinking when she had decided to change without asking him to leave. She loved him and he had admitted to loving her; she trusted him and, in her mind, there was nothing wrong with undressing in front of him. She wouldn't have guessed he would get that embarrassed. "You need to change too, Professor," she reminded him. Even as she said it, she sat back down, making it obvious that she had no intention of leaving while he changed.

He looked at her, his face blank. "Why are you doing this to me, Miss Granger?"

"Doing what, Professor?" she asked, faking innocence.

"Tormenting me." But he stood and changed, facing away from her as though that would give him some real privacy. He didn't want her to look too closely. He wasn't ashamed of his appearance, precisely, but at the same time he knew that it left much to be desired in the eyes of many women. She was analyzing. His skin was too pale, perhaps, but that was hardly a surprise. She was pleased to see that his muscles were defined beneath his teaching robes and the long sleeved black shirt he now pulled on. Not bulky; built for endurance rather than brute force. She was also forced to the conclusion that he always wore robes at least one size too large; he was not really as thin as his normal clothes made him appear. But then her study session ended as he sat back down, dressed as a muggle. As he looked at her, she couldn't help but think of those muscles and be even more attracted to him than she already was.

She slipped across the space between their seats and sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed, gripped her hand gently and said, "I remember a time when doing such a thing would have been utterly incomprehensible to you, Miss Granger."

Hermione was equal to that. "I remember a time when you would have given me detention for suggesting it."

He nodded, staring into space. "We are lucky people change, Miss Granger. We are lucky situations and outlooks change."

She didn't answer, and they lapsed into a silence that said more than words ever could.

They didn't move or speak for close to an hour. Then the train slowed and stopped. They stood, reluctant to leave the moment behind. "I am not ready for this, Miss Granger."

"Why not, Professor?" Hermione asked. "Surely meeting my parents isn't as bad as some of the things you've done in the past, for the war effort."

Snape took a deep breath and said, "You're right, Miss Granger, as usual." The issue was that, at the moment, it didn't feel that way.

He hauled their trunks off the train, stubbornly refusing to let Hermione help him, even with her own trunk. Once off the train, she looked around, eyes searching desperately for a luggage cart. Upon finding one, she pulled it over to where Snape was waiting by the train. He loaded the cart and they waited for their turn to exit platform nine and three quarters.

As they waited, Snape's hands were twitching in a mostly successful effort not to pace, wring his hands and fidget in general. But Hermione still noticed. "Professor, calm down," she implored. "You're making me nervous."

"This is your fault, Miss Granger," he reminded her, looking around in an almost paranoid fashion. He could not remember the last time he had been this nervous. Spying, fighting, potentially dying was nothing. If it ended badly, you died. This on the other hand… if this went badly, he would likely live, but his happiness would not. Snape was learning that issues involving the heart and happiness were far more nerve-wracking than life or death situations.

"How is it my fault?" Hermione demanded a second time, Snape having been too lost in thought to hear her the first time.

"You are the one who invited me," he answered. "And your nervousness and embarrassment somehow gives me the impression that you are entirely innocent and helpless, even though I know this is not the case. And I find this contradiction both bewildering and bewitching." He still hadn't looked at her, staring straight ahead toward the exit, his expression inscrutable.

Hermione, on the other hand, could not take her eyes off him. Her face was covered in something between wonder, love and amusement. "I bewitch you, Professor?"

He closed his eyes and smiled, mostly to himself. "Endlessly, Miss Granger. Endlessly."

They finally stepped into the muggle world. Hermione saw her parents and ran over to them. "Mum, Dad, it's good to see you."

Her mother beamed, hugging her. "You too, Hermione. How's your first year teaching?"

"Wonderful, Mum. Absolutely fantastic." What she didn't mention was that the reason she felt this way had little to do with the job itself. It had more to do with the other teachers. One other teacher to be precise.

But her mother seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You said you were bringing him home, Hermione. Where is he?"

Hermione glanced around, suddenly aware that Snape hadn't followed her. She caught sight of him, still standing stiffly by the entrance to the magical platform. "I'll be right back," she said. She approached Snape. "Come on."

"Do I have to?" he remarked. His palms were sweating and he had yet to figure out why meeting one muggle man was setting him on edge.

"Yes," she answered. "Now quite being a baby. Let's go." She slid out her want and tapped the cart so she wouldn't have to do more than guide it. Keeping one hand on the trolley to direct it, she grabbed Snape's hand with her free one and pulled him along behind her. He was cursing himself for not thinking to take some sort of calming draught.

When they approached her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granger just stared. "Good evening," Snape said, relieved to find his voice was working properly.

Neither of them responded. Hermione's smile began to fade. Then her father asked, "Is this a joke, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's as old as I am, Hermione," her father objected.

A slight pink tinge touched Snape's cheeks. The blush was a combination of embarrassment and anger, as well as fear that Hermione would finally see sense.

But instead he felt her hand tighten around his as she stood up to her father, saying defiantly, "So? I'm of age. What does it matter how old he is? Granddad was sixteen years older than Grandma." Her voice grew steadily louder as she spoke.

"Times have changed," her father said just as loudly.

"Not here," Hermione's mother begged, pulling on the arm of the man next to her. Snape felt the same way.

Hermione ignored her mother. "So what if times have changed. Should I force myself to be unhappy just because times have changed?"

Mr. Granger frowned, turned on his heel and walked away, his wife trailing after him.

"Do you still think this was a good idea?" Snape asked her, sounding worried. He was fearful he had just ruined Hermione's Christmas with her family.

But she just laughed. "Calm down, Professor. He'll get over it. It was just a shock. He's actually taking it quite well."

"This is taking it well?"

"His reaction to Viktor was about the same," Hermione answered. "But his reaction to Ron was much worse."

Sorry it's been so long, as always I own no one, and time for reviews. :)

Dopplegranger: haha, thanks. the fluff in most of this story is almost enough to make my head explode. I think my muse does this on purpose, just to irritate me.

notwritten: Glad you're still following the story. :)

animegrlsteph: well, Hermione is a lot younger than Snape. It's far more likely that she'll decide there's something more she wants, in which case she will leave him. Oh, it felt true when I wrote it, and it feels true now, and it feels so true I don't know how to explain why I think Hermione is more likely to break Snape's heart than the other way around.