Hey people. This fic takes place three days after Hermione and Snape's last encounter. This is going to be another multi-chapter segway, with a couple different elements. As always I would love reviews and suggestions for more fics of this genre. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


Hermione's weekend had passed in waves of roiling emotions, only calmed by the act of studying and doing homework. She had avoided Ron all weekend, making excuses, claiming she wanted to get ahead in Divination and Arithmacy. It had been easy on Saturday, when everyone had gone to Hogsmeade, she had simply stayed behind. But come Sunday it was clear that Ron wanted to talk. Thinking it would be unfair to not grant him at least the opportunity to talk, Hermione let him talk. But it quickly became clear that talking was not all Ron wanted. Still processing Friday nights events, Hermione pushed him away angrily. She was not certain where the anger came from, because in actuality she was not angry with Ron. He had been kind and tender, he had not ravaged her, he could have gone slower, yes, but as Snape had made her aware it is often difficult for young men to proceed slowly their first time. Yet she was clearly angry at something. The more she thought about it, the greater the anger grew, before promptly blossoming into confusion and shame. In the brief amount of time they had spent talking before Ron had begun his advances, he had asked her several questions. At first they had warmed her, he genuinely seemed concerned about how she had felt after the experience. But they were questions she could not answer. And Hermione Granger did not deal well with questions she could not answer. So she had turned away from him, asking to be left alone. He had looked confused and then saddened. It had burned in her chest when she saw him look sad, it stung to know she was the cause of it. But she buried the pain and attempted to bury the confusion. But despite her attempts to cover them, they would not stay buried for more than a few moments at a time.

Severus Snape surveyed the Great Hall with a grimace. He hated monitoring study hall. The majority of the students didn't want to study, they wanted to talk loudly to one another. And the ones who did want to study, became quickly frustrated with the lack of silence and added their angry voices to the already raucous atmosphere. So when Snape took over the study hall shift from Sprout, he had shot the entire room a menacing glare, and silence had quickly ensued. Now his eyes drifted from table to table, scowering for any pupil not diligently doing their work. Suddenly his gaze halted. Granger. Her hand had stilled over her parchment, he looked closer, realizing it was blank. They were now forty minutes into study hall, and she had yet to accomplish any work. It was well known amongst the teachers that Hermione Granger was one of the few students who truly took advantage of study hall periods. And yet there she sat, almost frozen, a look of pain and confusion etched upon her face. His stomach coiled, a reaction he had come to associate with her. On Saturday morning he had been summoned by the Dark Lord, but he had not left before insuring that a morning after potion was sent to Miss Granger's room, and the elf who delivered it sworn to silence on the matter. Saturday night she had looked well, all things considered, and Sunday he had not been present at dinner. But now she looked ashen and her eyes were red rimmed. Not from crying, but surely from holding back tears. They shared a similar ailment in that matter. Neither was willing to simply cry when it was needed. Instead they fought it and buried pain. For her sake, he hated that they were so similar.

His eyes filled with concern. Then he began his visual hunt for Weasley. He found him with ease, sitting next to Potter and his younger sister. He watched closely as Weasley frequently lifted his head to gaze at Hermione, a mix of concern, lust and confusion in his eyes. Concern. Well, at least he cared. But if Weasley had noticed something was wrong, and was portraying concern regarding the matter, then something must indeed be wrong. Was she still processing the events of last Friday? Of course she is you git! But he had assured her that she could come back to him if she needed to talk. So why hadn't she? Snape refused to grant merit to the pang of hurt he felt over the revelation that she had not come to him, asked him for guidance or help. Perhaps she had come looking for him on Saturday and was not able to find him. Perhaps she thought he had not been truthful when he extended the offer to talk if she needed it. Stop it! That's done. Saturday you cannot repeat. Now you must fix it. Snape stood and dismissed the hall. He looked toward Hermione who had been forced from her reverie by his booming voice. She looked startled and suddenly panicked. He watched as she schooled herself, collected her things and left. Something was indeed wrong. He vowed to speak with her after dinner. But when dinner came, Hermione was nowhere to be seen in the Great Hall. Severus looked toward Dumbledore who had seen his careful appraisal of the Gryffindor table. His eyes sparkled knowingly and he gave a slight nod of his head, indicating that Severus should find her. Severus felt the tug behind his eyes as Dumbledore entered his mind from the other end of the table. Severus showed him the images of Hermione looking confused and panicked during study hall, but carefully guarded those of their recent conversation. Hermione deserved some privacy, even though Dumbledore would never let on that he knew, Snape still felt the need to preserve her confidence. Severus felt the tingle leave his mind and knew what was expected of him. The headmaster met his eyes from the other end of the table and Snape silently whispered the incantation.

You are concerned. Find her. Assist her. Guide her. You mean much to her Severus. She trusts you. Go. Snape pulled out of the headmaster's mind and stared at him for an instant longer before excusing himself from the table. He walked silently through the Great Hall, glaring at the eyes that dared to meet his. He knew where he would find her.

Snape's long legs carried him quickly up the winding steps to the astronomy tower. The evening was frigid and he pulled his wool cape tighter around himself. Why was she out in the freezing air? But he knew why. She needed the cold to ground her. He had done the same thing countless times over. If you stay in the cold long enough, you become numb. Clearly she wanted to be numb. As he reached the top of the tower he spotted her, sitting on a stone bench and leaning against the railing, looking out over the Black Lake and Hogwarts grounds. He could tell she had heard him approach, however she did not turn to him, clearly hoping whoever it was would simply leave. But he walked towards her, and took a seat on the bench beside her, a measurable distance away, allowing her space.

When the figure sat behind her she immediately knew who it was. Ron would have come up and kissed her, Ginny would have hugged and asked what was wrong, Harry would have called out her name. Only Snape would say nothing, and simply sit beside her. She drew a ragged sigh. Snape's gut clenched at the sound. He needed something to bridge the gap, the all pervasive distance that she was placing between them. Between herself and everyone. She needed to know it was alright, that she didn't need to be scared but that at the same time it was normal to feel so. That he knew. But how to make her understand?

"Your house missed your presence at dinner this evening." He would beat around the bush until she was ready to talk.

"I wasn't feeling well. I thought the fresh air would help. I'll make sure they know it was not against them that I didn't go to dinner." She thanked Merlin that he hadn't asked her what was wrong. She knew why he was there. To find out what was ailing her. And she appreciated his concern. But how could he help her if she herself did not know what was wrong?

"And has the fresh air helped your health?" He asked softly, knowing she would understand the loaded question.

"No." She answered, her voice breaking. To this he nodded, though she could not see him. Then it struck him. She may very well be feeling ill, not simply due to her obvious emotional distress, but also due to other reasons.

"Miss Granger did you take the potion I sent you?" He asked cautiously. She waited a moment before answering.

"I tried Sir, but the first sip made me ill. I could not stomach it. I came to find you, thinking perhaps there was a different potion I could take, but you were not in your classroom. I didn't want to bother Madam Pomfrey..." She dwindled off, clearly embarrassed. He knew she would not have gone to Madam Pomfrey. He cursed himself for not having been there. Muggle pregnancies were very different than Wizarding pregnancies, muggles progressed much slower than witches did. Fear coursed through Snape. He did not want to alarm her, but knew she would catch on as soon as he asked the question.

"I apologize Miss Granger...but I fear I must ask...when was your last...cycle?" He fought the heat that flamed under his cheeks. Dammit, you talked her through her first cycle! And now you're embarrassed? Hermione's back stiffened. She didn't understand. They had used a condom, Ron had even pulled out of her before he came. Surely even if she was pregnant, she wouldn't be able to tell this early. It had only been three days! Clearly Snape knew something she didn't, or he would not have asked. Hating herself once more for her ridiculous lack of knowledge, she turned to face him. Fighting down embarrassment.

"Sir it has only been three days. We took precautions. Even if I was...surely I wouldn't be able to tell yet." She couldn't bring herself to say the words, but knew he understood what she was trying to convey. He nodded, his gaze averted.

"Please Miss Granger, when was your last cycle?" He asked once more. Trying to keep the fear from hi voice. He should have ensured that she had taken the potion when he returned on Saturday evening. He should have thought ahead and made sure that he laced the potion with an anti-nausea potion as well. He should have been sure she was safe. Hermione was silent for a moment.

"A week ago." Snape breathed a sigh of relief. Somewhat like muggle women, witches could only get pregnant at a specific time in their cycle, unlike muggle women there were no other times in their cycle during which they could get pregnant. Hermione was only in the second week of her cycle. Witches had to be in their third to be able to conceive. Snape allowed himself only a moment to rejoice in the fact that she was indeed not pregnant. Despite that reassuring fact, something was still clearly bothering her.

"In that case Miss Granger I can assure you that you are not pregnant. However I would strongly advice against...intercourse...during the third week of your cycle." He cleared his throat. He knew she would later read up on the subject, so he need not pursue the topic with her any longer. Hermione simply nodded her head and took a shuddering breath, avoiding his eyes.

"I don't...I don't think I will be having...intercourse...again anytime soon." Her cheeks flamed and her shoulder sagged. Snape nodded his head silently encouraging her to continue. A few moments of silence followed. When it became clear that she would not speak again without being prompted, he gently questioned her, attempting to tread carefully.

"Have you spoken with Mr. Weasley since your...encounter?" He asked softly. Hermione nodded.

"He said he wanted to speak with me. So he spoke." Snape nodded, when Hermione did not continue he once again questioned her.

"What did you speak about?" Hermione's jaw clenched.

"He...kissed me, and then...well...I told him I did not want to be kissed...and then he asked questions." She bit off the last few words. Snape's brow furrowed, an unusual act for him.

"Questions?" He pried gently. Hermione waited several moments before answering him, clearly trying to find the correct words. Snape wanted to reassure her that it didn't matter how she phrased it, that if she simply said it, they would work through it. Or at least try like hell. But instead he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Hermione stared at his hands, clasped in his lap.

"He wanted to know...how it...was for me. If I l-liked it. What I wanted him to do next...next time." She dwindled off. Embarrassment flooded through her with a wash of other emotions she couldn't categorize. Snape sat in silence, his eyes now downcast as well. What Weasley though was being considerate had clearly thrown her for a loop. She was young and inexperienced, she didn't know what she wanted or liked. And yet he had asked her a question, and Snape knew that she loathed herself whenever she was unable to answer a question. Whenever those unlikely occasions arose, she would quickly do her research and find the answer, arming herself with knowledge. However, this time, she had no means of research.

"You are distressed because you could not answer him." He stated softly, knowing it was true. Hermione lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes were soft and understanding. She nodded slowly, finally allowing the welling tears to fall. He continued.

"You are frustrated because you do not know the answers, nor do you feel you know how to find them." At his more tears came. He hated that he was causing her pain, but now that he had found the source of her distress it was important that he fully understand. Or at least try to.

"Miss Granger?" He leaned his head forward slightly, and she raised her eyes to his.

"Though it is terrifying, we do not always have to have all the answers. Sometime things will confuse and hurt us and when someone asks a question we do not know the answer to, we resort to the emotions that are clear, as opposed to those that are muddled. We turn to anger, because it is easily acknowledged. We use that anger to bury the fear we feel at not knowing the answers. Not having the answers Miss Granger, is not a weakness. Especially when it comes to matters of...intimacy." A sob wracked Hermione. He knew. He understood. He didn't fault her for it. The rest came spilling out of her, having been buried and held back. Her voice cracked and she stuttered through it.

"I wasn't ready. It happened so fast. He was so nice, but I wasn't ready. I thought I was. I really did. And...and then he asked me how I felt. How it felt. I don't want to hurt him. I lied. I said I liked it. I didn't know what to do. And he didn't really either. But he has older brothers. At least he knew more than I did. It was so...so strange. And I know I was supposed to feel something. But I didn't. I want to feel something. But I don't think I can." Her voice had quieted now, the sobs subsiding. An all pervasive embarrassment setting in. She began to stand, but he reached out to still her.

"Miss Granger, we have been through enough trials that you need not run in embarrassment. I assure you this conversation, as almost all do, will remain between us." She nodded tearfully.

"Thank you Sir." He nodded and stood. He walked over to the railing of the astronomy tower and looked down at the Black Lake. He cleared his throat.

"I don't believe anyone is ever truly ready for the first time they are with someone." He waited a few moments before continuing.

"And it is not something you grow accustomed to immediately. Intimacy is complicated. Just because you felt nothing does not mean that will always be the case. That said, I wouldn't recommend doing anything further until you feel more comfortable with the idea. I know it seems absurd, but I would suggest talking to Mr. Weasley. I know you will find the words that will be kind but clear." She joined him at the railing.

"I just...I want to feel something." She sighed, frustrated still, but immensely relieved. How had he understood? She wanted to ask, but knew it would be pushing the boundaries too far. The lines were already far too blurry. They both looked out upon the lake, the sky now inky black.

"I know." Came his soft reply.


HELP! Where do I go now?