A/N: Last chapter! :o Tell me what you think! I think I could have made it a bit more...drawn out, but, well, to be honest, I'm tired, and I wanted to post this tonight.


Severus Snape sat hunched over his desk, touching his fingertips together under his nose. He was pondering the disturbing situation he had just witnessed. It was just that, disturbing – almost as disturbing as the thought of someone like Longbottom and himself engaging in a regular midnight tryst.

But that wasn't the part that bothered him the most. The situation had brought back some…unpleasant memories of his. He buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily. Painful, guilty memories, memories of light brown curls and startling green eyes…

Lily Evans lightly brushed his arm as she walked towards her desk. Snape looked up from his own desk, startled at the touch.

"Excuse me, Severus," she said, glancing back with a small smile.

Snape repressed the memory as best as he could. His only memory of her touch. Love was an evil thing. No one deserved it in the first place. He was only doing a favor for Granger and Delacour.


"And that, my dears, is all for today. I'll hand back your assignments now." Professor Delacour turned to her desk and grabbed a large stack of papers.

Fleur began to call off the students' names, one by one. Hermione sat in the back with her head down, not looking forward to the walk up to her professor.

Students began to filter out until there was only one left. "Hermione Granger." The name seemed to echo throughout the room. Hermione stood up and walked to Fleur.

"Nice job on the homework," Fleur said impersonally, holding out the homework for Hermione. Hermione, head down, reached for it. Their fingers brushed lightly and Hermione looked up in surprise. Their eyes locked and there was a small pause. Fleur began to open her mouth but Hermione had already started briskly walking away.

Fleur was hesitant to say anything else, but when she saw Hermione nearly out the door, some kind of instinct kicked in. "Hermione!" Fleur yelled. The girl stopped in her tracks, but did not turn around. "Hermione, please…"

There was a long silence as Hermione stared through the open door in front of her. The corridor beckoned her, with promises of solid walls and numbingly cold cobblestones. Her heart grew stony. She wasn't going to be teased with hope again.

But Hermione just couldn't walk away. She didn't turn around, but said "What do you want?" into the empty corridor. She could hear footsteps rapidly approaching behind her, and felt a sudden warmth on her back. "Stop-I don't want…" Hermione pushed Fleur away and walked toward the door, her eyes beginning to water.

There was a loud bang as the wooden door slammed shut in front of her. Hermione's path was blocked. She turned around and saw Fleur, poised with her wand. She had closed the door.

They stood facing each other for a few long moments before Fleur began to slowly approach Hermione. Hermione, with nowhere else to go, backed up against the door. Tears were pooling up in her eyes. Fleur was getting closer, and closer, and she was walking faster –

Fleur grabbed Hermione around the waist and pushed her against the door, kissing her with more passion than she had ever felt before. The only sound was the clank of the wood behind Hermione as her body was shoved against it. Their lips, like old friends, met once more; and their bodies, at the first touch, became reacquainted with the soft press of someone familiar. Hermione closed her eyes and the tears began to flow down in streams, outlining the shape of their meeting lips.

The kiss lasted for so long, and when they pulled apart, both of their lips glistening from Hermione's tears, they shuddered against each other, trying to intake oxygen but unable to get in a deep breath.

Fleur could hear Hermione's labored, shaky breath next to her ear. She wanted to tell her what she had decided, she wanted to tell her that …"I love you," the younger girl whispered. Fleur pulled her closer together, putting her cheek against Hermione's. She brushed back Hermione's hair from her face in repeated strokes.

"I'm not worried about him," Fleur breathed into Hermione's ear. "I don't care about him anymore. All I want is you. I'm willing to risk anything." They held each other in silence.

The had stood still for nearly ten minutes when Fleur began to hear footsteps approaching. Before they could pull apart, the door flung open and Professor Snape stood, extremely started, before them. Hermione didn't turn around, but held Fleur tighter. Fleur stared up at the man, not saying anything.

Snape looked at both of them with a blank stare. His eyes glossed over them, and their position, and the expression in Fleur's eyes. Finally, after a minute, he spoke.

"You're a good professor, Delacour," he murmured softly. "Just…just don't let this become…too public." As soon as the word "public" escaped his lips, Snape turned around and slammed the door behind him. It took Fleur more than a second to realize what had just happened. She looked down at Hermione, who had a half grin on her tear-stained face. They gave each other matching smiles, and it wasn't long before their smiles turned into outright laughter.


Snape looked at them, clutching each other. Fleur's knuckles were bone-white; she was grasping onto Hermione as if her life depended on it. He looked into her eyes. There wasn't a look of anger, her eyes weren't pleading for mercy from him, but there was definitely something else there. Something that he saw in his own eyes whenever he couldn't overcome his desire for nostalgia and dipped back into the pensieve. He knew that look. It was the look of love. He looked at Hermione, and even though he could only see her back, Snape knew her eyes would possess the same look.

"You're a good professor, Delacour," he felt himself saying. "Just…just don't let this become…too public."