A/N: Sorry this took a little longer, it was a bugger to write... a fairly major plot flaw down the line forced me to change the next few scenes.
Please enjoy, and review with constructive criticism/wanton flattery!
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Friday January 12th to Monday January 15th
Hermione had his words in her mind for the next three days; they would pop up unexpectedly in the middle of meals, classes, study time, and social time. It could have been frustrating, but she found it soothing. Knowing that someone was looking out for her, watching over her... she shied away from the term 'guardian angel', but she knew that Snape's role was essentially the same. It got to the point that Ginny and Harry decided to stage an intervention; Hermione dodged their rather obvious attempts to bring her out of her reverie at various points in the day, and instead blamed her periods of reflection on lack of sleep. They weren't completely convinced, but they were kept at bay for the time being.
It was a golden Saturday morning, the Enchanted Ceiling showing only blue skies and the occasional puffy white cloud to break the sunshine. Harry, Ron and Ginny had Quidditch practice early, so Hermione was left with Neville to finish breakfast.
Hermione tried to refrain from looking at him at the Staff Table, but she snuck the occasional glance. To her sharp eyes, he looked positively buoyant; what could have brought that on? Certainly not the weather... she watched him closely, curiosity getting the better of her senses. He leaned in the talk to the wizard next to him, Professor... wait.
Who was that sitting next to Snape? Hermione had never seen this red-headed, boisterous man in all her life. Yet there he was at the Staff Table, talking to Snape in undertones and eating breakfast like he belonged there.
"Neville? Who's that man eating with the teachers, second from the left?"
Neville swallowed his egg with some difficulty, and then looked up with a slight frown on his face. "That's Professor Briggle, I think. The girls were talking about him before; new Divination teacher."
Sure enough, Hermione couldn't see Ludwig anywhere, or feel his beady eyes on her.
"What happened to Professor Ludwig?" She asked.
"Dunno, but Lavender's over the moon; they all hated Ludwig. This guy's meant to be a lot better, some kind of expert too."
Hermione pondered this, a suspicion growing in her mind about why this 'rearrangement' had taken place. Snape had a glint in his eye last time they had discussed Ludwig's betrayal... she shivered, hoping that whatever had happened to Ludwig was painful, but not permanent.
She went out to watch the tail end of the Quidditch training session, for lack of a better offer. From what she knew of Quidditch, it seemed to be going well; yet it didn't hold her attention for long, and she ended up sitting in the stands, face to the skies, lost in thought.
As usual, the object of her musings was Professor Snape. It had been a long, long time since she had thought of him as disagreeable; his teaching methods were harsh but necessary, considering the dangers of thirty novices brewing highly toxic and versatile potions. Any doubt in his personal character was lost upon the revelation that he was always a stalwart spy for the Order, which had only been enhanced by Hermione's dealings with him. He had been more than attentive during her troubles; he had often been the only one to comfort and support her in crucial times. She remembered the aftermath of the last transformation with a wince of old pain, but relaxed when she recalled the way he had called her back from the brink. Hermione... her name had sounded strange from his tongue, but altogether sweeter. The informality somehow broke down a barrier that had always existed, and now she felt completely relaxed in his presence.
He was still somewhat of an enigma, she had to admit, but he had been slowly opening up, offering the occasional morsel of information for her to pounce on and treasure. She smiled when she remembered the moment that he had pretty much admitted to inventing Wolfsbane, and his subsequent brusqueness. The way his hands curved delicately around his ivory-handled knife when he cut ingredients, the look of peace that only came from complete absorption and concentration... yes, she had to admit, she had been watching him with fascination for a long time.
For what purpose? Hermione wondered, trying to understand her own feelings with the intensity that she attempted to solve Professor Snape. It seemed more important to her than just a supervisor for Potions and her transformations; he made her feel... safe. Content. Herself.
As much as she may be reluctant to admit it, her concern and attention for Snape went way, way beyond student interest. It went beyond caring for a troubled soul.
It went all the way to the heart.
"Watch out, Hermione!" Ginny barked, bringing her out of her thoughts a moment too late. A Bludger swept past her ear, missing her by a bear inch. They were trained to avoid audience members, but they were often troublesome and tricky.
Ginny came in soon after it to collect it, marking the end of the training session. They were all sweaty and red faced from their exertion, yet Hermione thought that she had spent her own time in a much more difficult and strenuous manner; she had looked at herself, and seen her true feelings.
She was afraid- not of her natural feelings, but of how this may change everything. She resolved to act carefully, tread lightly. She would not disrupt the balance of the cauldron that was their relationship in any way.
**
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He found that he was thinking about her an inordinately large amount of the time; sometimes, even when he was in the midst of brewing, he thought he felt her presence, yet he was always mistaken.
He was not usually a man for self-recrimination or analysis, but he loathed this feeling of confusion; so he sat at the head of the first year class writing their essays, and was soon deep in thought.
The first image that came to his addled mind was one that had been haunting him for a while; the image of Hermione in his arms, battered and bruised, her glorious eyes shut against the light. He had called to her, and she had awoken- but why was that significant? He frowned, trying to get his thought in order. Was it a vestige of guilt from the final battle? Was it a concern for the wellbeing of one of his best students, if not the best in the school?
Or is it something else?
The only conclusion that he drew was that Hermione Granger was someone that he had cared for more than he had allowed himself to in many, many years.
**
**
The dungeon was tense that night, or maybe it was just Hermione's imagination. There seemed to be a question hanging in the air, and she gave voice to a possibility.
"Sir, what really happened to Professor Ludwig?"
He turned quickly away from his store cupboard, as if startled that she was there. "He discovered that the sun of Bermuda would be most beneficial to his health." He said dryly. "Especially after he discovered his Prophecy."
Hermione looked slightly puzzled, so he continued. "Ludwig had previously worked in the Department of Mysteries, and had spent many years looking for his own orb- which his colleagues conveniently found and asked him to retrieve yesterday." He snorted. "It was a simple matter to change its contents; the most pertinent phrase is, I believe, '...shall die of unnatural causes in the place of learning'. Thus, he retired gracefully- and fled for the tropics."
"Brilliant, sir." Hermione grinned. "The only way to keep him away; through his stubborn belief in his own field."
"Precisely." Snape returned to the cauldron, still feeling that faint sense of satisfaction on a job well executed. "And now, combined with the Unbreakable Vow, he won't reveal your identity to anybody. You are safe, for now."
"I won't let down my guard, at any rate." Hermione assured him, knowing that she shouldn't be complacent even with her main threat gone. "Still, it might be nice to..." She trailed off, not exactly knowing what she wanted; to ignore it; to accept it; to live happily ever after with it? All of those seemed so unrealistic.
"Don't get ahead of yourself." Snape said, knowing what she was trying and failing to say. "You're coping remarkably well, considering." He cleared his throat, and Hermione had the feeling that he was about to say something important. "I know how much this Potion means to you- but don't start relying on it, hoping for a quick result. It's incredibly likely that we'll hit many barriers along the process, and it's important that you take them in your stride. This could be the solution to your problem, yes—but waiting for it and postponing your life for it isn't the right way to live."
Hermione digested this as she ground some crystals into dust, considering what he had just revealed to her. She had been dangerously close to pinning all her hopes on the Cure, and he was right to suggest that she needed to plan for a future in which there was no chance of being totally normal again. With infinite care, she tipped the mortar of power into her cauldron before answering slowly. "You're right, sir. I've been thinking of little else lately... maybe I should concentrate on academics and choose a career regardless."
"I would strongly advise it." He replied, peering into her mixture with a practiced glance. He stayed standing, leaning on a workbench beside her cauldron. She thrilled secretly at his proximity, but betrayed no emotion. He must not know, it would ruin everything...
"Incidentally, I've just received a letter from a colleague of mine in Ireland... asking for several candidates for a highly competitive apprenticeship with him in a mixture of Charms and Potions. With your permission, I would like to add your name to the list." He said it with an air of nonchalance, but he looked intensely at Hermione, waiting for a response.
She swallowed, and her eyes sparkled like jewels in the sun. Snape knew that he had a winner.
"Apprenticeship?" She repeated faintly and delicately.
"Most likely a four year period, I should imagine. You may deliberate if you wish."
"No... no, I think I've decided." She said in a rush. "It sounds excellent! I would be honoured to apply for it."
"I thought so... right up your alley." Snape said in satisfaction, glad that he had re-established contact with the man in question. Face it, Severus, you provoked him into accepting Hermione deliberately. You knew that he wouldn't ask questions- I mean, a vampire taking issue with a werewolf apprentice?
He shook these thoughts away, a true as he knew them to be. He tried another tack. "Any conclusions?" He looked once again at the liquid broiling away under Hermione's careful watch.
Her mind was back in business within a millisecond, describing the various properties that she had extracted from her experiment. He added the occasional comment or query, satisfied with both her arguments and her answers. "I must admit, Miss Granger, you have improved a great deal."
"Mainly due to your tuition." She said modestly, going slightly red.
"I disagree." He said, knowing that compliments were few and far between from him- but sometimes they needed to be given, for those who deserve them. "You have a natural affiliation, to a certain degree, but one that you have multiplied with simple hard work." He paused, unsure of how the next comment would be received. "Yet... no, I must say it- I have never had a student before of your variety, Miss Granger. I will be sorry to see you leave Hogwarts."
Her face was turned towards him, going alternately red or pale and still at each word. "That is high praise indeed, sir, and I thank you for it."
"It was freely given, and utterly truthful."
She nodded, deep in thought; as if in a trance, she dispelled the flame and slowly moved to the store cupboard to replace a jar of Gillyweed, and then turned to reply once again. "I don't feel afraid anymore." She said suddenly.
He didn't reply, unsure of what to say.
"You saw my Boggart, sir- what did you conclude?"
Damn. Not a track that he was willing to follow. "Your fear is utterly understandable, if that term can even be applied. You cannot bear the thought of inflicting your condition on anyone else." He emphasised anyone else, knowing that the victims of the Boggart-Hermione were himself and Potter.
She sighed, shaking her head slowly. "The thing is, I've felt fear before- utter moments of dark panic, when I feel that I can't breathe or move a muscle under its immense weight. All I feel when I see that scene in my mind is... anger, sorrow, recrimination. No fear."
Snape gripped the edge of the bench, knowing it was crucial to say this right. "Boggarts are not the measure of oneself- just like the Mirror of Erised, they do not represent us entirely. The role of a Boggart has been greatly simplified over its history; it often doesn't represent a mere fear. In your case- and mine- it might be more accurate to say dread."
"Dread..." She said, admitting the feeling with a clench of her small fists. "What I dread most in the world..."
Snape felt in a dream as he walked towards her, not touching her in comfort, but merely being there beside her.
She once again revelled in his presence, and then started to process something that he had said, saying absently, "In your case, sir?" She bit her lip. "I don't mean to pry, I'm sorry..."
He didn't look angry. "Forget it." He said softly. "It's unimportant... what is important, is that you face that dread. It can block your thoughts, actions, future. I would never permit you to hurt anyone, Hermione. Is that understood?" He looked suddenly intense, like he was bottling up some emotion.
"You may not always have the chance." She whispered. "You can't promise that." Lying on the ground, blood soaking through the robes and spilling out onto the floor beneath...
He nodded, closing his eyes briefly. "I'll rephrase that... as long as you are with me, Hermione, no one can be the cause of your misery. I will defend you if it's the last..." He turned his head away for a moment, as if he needed to restrain the thought.
"Last thing you do?" Hermione finished for him. "That's what I'm worried about."
"I know... I recognised myself, and Potter." He admitted, sending a shockwave through Hermione; how long had he known- from the beginning? "I won't let that happen." He repeated, looking deep into her now. "You are not only that monster, Hermione. You are more than that- and more than that to me."
Her breath hitched in her throat, her heard thudding to the words that she had always wanted to hear, somewhere deep inside her psyche. Not just the recognition, but the fact that he understood what needed to be said, what he should say to allow her anxiety to be dispelled.
Ever so slowly, they leaned together, Hermione's thoughts in a whirl; the thought of inappropriate behaviour and her previous promise to hold back didn't occur, neither did the revulsion that most would associate with Snape interrupt the moment. All she could think of was his unstinting kindness, and his promise to look past the monster, as empty as it may be... he cared. And that was enough for her.
She closed her eyes at the last instant, conscious that he had done the same. She could feel his gentle breath on her cheek before their lips met, erasing all other sensations.
It was the most natural thing in the world; as their lips met, they instantly knew that it was right. His slowly moving mouth on hers, the hand she had entwined in his hair, their touching torsos, and the feeling of his hand on the small of her back holding her tighter. It seemed like an eternity as well as an instant when they broke apart, not moving back, lips hovering over each other.
Hermione opened her eyes to see how close he was, instantly falling into his eyes and relishing their liveliness that she had never before seen dancing in his eyes.
"Hermione..." He whispered, almost as though he was trying it on his tongue like an exotic fruit. "Hermione..."
Then they were entwined again, and Hermione found that the experience didn't diminish the second time. If anything, it was more insistent; her lips parted under his tongue, and she explored his taste like it was some life giving elixir.
"...Hermione, we can't do this." He gasped when the broke apart once more. He stepped back, gathering himself again. Hermione felt a faint stab of disappointment, but she also kept her distance, the reality of their 'situation' dawning on her. She quickly formulated several plans and struck them off one by one, until there was only the final option left.
"Not like this." She agreed, hating how it sounded.
He sighed, reflecting her reluctance exactly. "I couldn't jeopardise your future in this way... you must understand, that in any other situation..." He left it hanging, keeping his eyes on her face.
Any other situation... An impossible hope came to her. "Should I be marking the conclusion of my formal education for another reason then?" She said cryptically, holding her breath of his response.
He hid a small grin, Hermione marvelling that she had the ability to make him smile. "That was the general idea. What happens after that date is entirely up to you."
"Of course... erm... Professor." She said weakly, thinking of how strange it would be to call him that after what had happened.
"I believe that our time here has elapsed." He replied mechanically, starting to regain his normal teacher mode. "I will see you tomorrow, Herm- HerMiss Granger."
She left reluctantly, her head lighter than air; she didn't get any sleep through her swirling thoughts and memories, her mind often returning to him.
Needless to say, he didn't sleep either.
**
**
The next few weeks were hard for Hermione; she had to sit in his class as normal, pretend that she hadn't been changed in a profound way around her school friends. It was harder to keep to herself than the werewolf secret, something she thought wouldn't be surpassed. But she persevered, once again trying to focus on her studies. Unfortunately, there was often times when she had to invent excuses to work excessively after all the coursework had been completed- without it, her thoughts would wander... then her rational mind fell apart altogether, and it took a fair while to get it back in gear.
Potions became both a curse and blessing. She thrilled in his very proximity- internally, at least. Externally, she continued the act of defiance through tenacity. He was as acidic as he could muster, but he never again took House Points off her. Hermione didn't know if that was a conscious choice, or he just couldn't bring himself to punish her in that way. Either way, the Potions class didn't even notice the change.
The only time that Hermione could relax was in the evening, when they worked on the Potion. Which was ironic, really; it used to terrify her. But she felt herself calm down in the fumes, the heat, and the hypnotic and methodical work that they preformed.
It also helped to be in his presence; Hermione regretted every moment she was with him that they couldn't allow intimacy, but she relished the chance to get closer to him at all. They often talked, deeper than they had before; she told him a little of her sheltered Muggle life, and he didn't seem adverse to it. In return, he would offer the occasional piece of information about his early life, school life, career, and Death Eater experiences. Anything that he talked about was immediately filed away in Hermione's quick mind, and she knew how privileged she was to be in the great man's confidence, where so many others had failed to be.
Their peaceful coexistence was often excited by a new development in their potion; it turned out that Lupin had some valuable information about full fledged transformations and their variety according to the person and who they were bitten, which required them the change certain aspects of the potion. Although the new complication set them back, they were more determined to get it right than get it done quickly.
Hermione now kept her Wolfsbane in a special, hidden and heavily guarded chamber in the wall, and she took it religiously as the weeks wore on. Dumbledore had altered the wards so that only he, McGonagall and (most surprisingly) Snape were allowed inside her chambers without her express permission. As the time drew near, she didn't feel much apprehension; she knew that her plans were safe, the panic button was foolproof, and her Wolfsbane course would be completed this time around. There was no way she was going to repeat the horrific scenes of last full moon.
**
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Thursday February 8th (full moon)
Potions was the last lesson of the day; Hermione noted that Snape used every excuse possible to walk past her cauldron and look at her anxiously (she assumed anxiously; to everyone else, he would be positively disgusted, but she was learning to interpret his facial expressions). At the end of the lesson when they handed up their essays, his hand brushed hers ever so slightly, sending a tingle up her arm that lasted for a good hour. She took her final Wolfsbane dose before dinner, vowing once again that she would eradicate the disgusting Potion once and for all.
The time soon drew nigh, and Hermione excused herself from the Common Room, not even needing to cite homework issues; it was expected that she spent more time on work. This it was that she shut herself in her bedroom, heart thudding at an abnormal speed. She sat on the bed, feeling slightly useless; she hated this part, the endless waiting...
Once it started, she wished for the tense silence to be back. The discomfort soon grew to agonizing pain, but she was able to keep her strange half-human half-wolf whimpers to herself.
Once she was fully settled, she sat in front of the fireplace, shivering in pleasure at the warmth on her fur. She didn't feel dangerous; she didn't feel bloodthirsty; but she knew that it was a distinct possibility that many were suffering that at that very moment.
She came to the realisation that she actually had Snape to thank for her current state of mind; he invented the potion for Merlin's sake. It was just a shame that is took so long for the Ministry to allow it on the market, so to speak; so many years of Remus going wild every moon when the solution was caught up in red tape.
They'll do the same for your potion. Hermione hoped that their connections would move it through the Ministry faster, at least in her lifetime (to be optimistic).
Her super sensitive hearing heard a human stepping outside. Instantly alert, she ducked behind the coffee table, trying to flick her tail out of view.
"Hermione, I know you can hear me." A silky whisper floated through; she immediately relaxed as she identified the man. "If you think it's safe for me to enter, howl once. If not, howl twice. I can hear you."
Hermione considered the options for a moment before throwing caution to the winds. She howled once sharply, almost startling herself with the foreign sound.
"I'm coming in now." Snape slowly whispered the teacher's password and disabled some wards before appearing in the archway.
His heart rate faltered for a minute when he saw her sitting on her haunches in the corner, but he quickly recovered and shut the door, muttering many wards more than strictly necessary.
He slowly turned to face her again, bending down with his fingers scraping the floor in a crouching position. "Are you in control?"
Hermione nodded, feeling exceedingly stupid; she was certain she looked strange also, because a flicker of humour flashed in his eyes.
Why are you here? Hermione wanted to ask. She cocked her head in what she hoped was a questioning fashion.
He understood her question immediately. "You shouldn't have to face it alone." He said softly, holding out his hands to her. She approached cautiously, feeling slightly unsettled on her paws. She sniffed the outstretched palms tentatively; instantly her sensitive nose was assaulted with a multitude of senses, some obviously potions ingredients, and some his own distinct aroma. She could have breathed it in all day...
Snape obviously had different ideas. "May I sit?"
She nodded again, and he made himself comfortable on the divan in front of the roaring fireplace. She followed him, almost feeling like an obedient dog with its master, and resenting the implication. She was a wolf, a lone wolf, proud and masterless...
She shook herself, trying to drive away the obviously wolfish thoughts. Feeling suddenly bold, she leapt up onto the divan near his knees, surprising him a little. She warily eyed his reaction, but once he seemed content, she settled herself beside him.
"I assume you feel this is as surreal as I do." He sighed. "Yet it doesn't scare me in the slightest what you are."
She bared her teeth to him, lolling her tongue out in a version of laughter as she heard his pulse increase tenfold at the sight of her intimidating fangs.
"Okay, you win. You're incredibly scary when you want to be." He acquiesced. "But I'm sure that even terrifying monsters can't turn down this..." He reached out one pale hand and scratched her neck, behind her large ears, down her spine...
Hermione was in heaven. Not caring what he thought of her reaction, her eyes closed in pure enjoyment and her back arched of its own accord. She came out of the trance to hear him chuckling, a deep throated sound that thrilled her to the core.
"I didn't think so."
She didn't even care about her reputation, even if he never let it down; she pressed herself into his warm side, begging for more.
He's a worthy packmate...
Oh, stop it.
That sat there for what seemed like an eternity, merely enjoying each others company in a way that Hermione had not thought possible. It was with profound regret that Hermione watched the moon dip below the horizon and the skies regain some colour from its oppressive darkness.
She felt the trembling come over her; she quickly jumped off the divan, startling her companion. She looked at him once for support before turning away.
She had never wished to be strong so much in her entire life; she wanted to show him that she could persevere, that even the transformation wasn't too much for her. So it was that she barely whimpered as she regained her human form. Her first act was to reach for a large red robe that she had placed on top of her bed and whipped it around her form, sitting on the four poster's edge as her limbs felt weak.
"Well done, Hermione." She heard him intone behind her. She shifted to look at him, seeing that his expression was carefully blank with only a hint of worry. "How do you feel?"
She shrugged. "As I usually do." She found herself saying, not knowing how she should reply.
He smiled slightly. "If you feel sufficiently recovered, I give you leave to appear at breakfast." He stood suddenly, his weight shifting back and worth in indecision. Hermione assumed that he wanted to stay as much as she did, but he eventually relented to practicality. "Good morning, Hermione." He left without another word.
Hermione supposed that he felt a bit useless; he had kept her safe and content all night, but now they were back to he routine. At least he had called her Hermione; she felt that there was a strange double meaning to her given name. Only when he used it first could she act the way she wanted around him; it was like a password between them, one that didn't come around often enough for Hermione's liking. It was a distinctly subdued Hermione that appeared at breakfast, a mood that was noted by many, but only questioned by a few.
