Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I really appreciate all of the reviews and promise to update again soon!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione was kissed awake by a small spot of sunlight spilling across her face. Eyes still closed, she smiled, imagining his warm lips. She inhaled deeply through her nose, savoring the way his smell mixed with the scent of clean linens. Suddenly, she realized where she was, and what had transpired the night before. She was still wearing his shirt. Though Hermione was by no means eager to face the coming day, she knew prolonging her dread wouldn't make things easier. Slowly, she stood up and padded over to the bedroom door. She paused a moment, listening for the sound of voices. Reassured by the silence, she shyly entered the sitting room.

Severus Snape was sitting in his chair near the fire, sipping tea. Hermione marveled at the man's solemn beauty. His hair cascaded softly around the delicate lines of his porcelain face. His eyes were closed gently, and he looked so lost in thought, Hermione hesitated to speak.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. I imagine you've slept well?" Slowly, he rose from his seat, turning to face her. "I apologize for the strength of the sleeping aid I offered you last night. I failed to anticipate how strongly it might affect you."

"Erm, that's fine… Really, I've been a lot of trouble for you, and I'm very sorry."

"Don't be. I shudder to imagine what you would do to yourself over time if left to your own devices."

"I don't mean to be rude, Professor, but I have to ask, why do you care what I would do to myself? No one else seems to care."

"Hermione, you're wrong. The people around you care about you very much, perhaps too much. They have allowed their desire to see you happy interfere with their ability to see how much you're struggling right now."

"That doesn't explain why it would matter to you."

"I would expect someone as bright as you are to understand that it is possible to care deeply for others without feeling compelled to smother them with sentimentality."

Hermione nodded slowly. Was he telling her that he cared about her, or was she selfishly twisting his words?

"If you'd like to continue this conversation, it will have to be over breakfast." She grew nervous as he led her into the kitchen, pulling a chair back and gesturing for her to sit.

"Would you like some tea first?"

"Please." As he placed a cup in front of her and took his seat across the table, Hermione began her usual breakfast ritual of staring down into her tea. It felt very unusual sitting with her Potions professor at his breakfast table, and she was unsure how to behave.

"What would you like for breakfast?" he asked, voice soft.

"I'm not very hungry this morning, sir." Her eyes didn't meet his.

"I did not ask whether you intended to eat this morning. I asked what you will eat. I understand that your body will need time to adjust before you are comfortable consuming normal portions, but I would like to remind you that I will not be able to honor your desire for privacy for much longer if you are not willing to start caring for yourself more. If I notice you absent from meals, or failing to consume a reasonable amount, I will not hesitate to do what is necessary to help you become well."

"I like egg whites…" Hermione offered feebly, as though trying to convince herself of it more than anything else. Snape rolled his eyes.

"I hope you're going to cooperate with this." He rose and began preparing the food. As the enticing aroma filled the kitchen, it made her stomach churn. Hermione sipped her tea, letting several long moments pass in silence.

"I think," the professor said, throwing her a quick glance before turning back to the stove, "perhaps this would be more comfortable for you if we talked."

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?" His face held the same patient focus, maybe even tenderness, Hermione had witnessed on the rare occasions she had caught a glimpse of him preparing a potion alone. There was no denying the man's strange beauty.

"Tell me about your life. You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I will not hesitate to ask you questions, but will understand if you prefer not to answer some of them."

"Wouldn't that be kind of boring?"

"You've always seemed relatively well adjusted. I must admit to being somewhat curious about the abrupt changes in your personality as of late." A small blush crept into her cheeks at the mention of his curiosity. Why would such an intriguing and brilliant man care about her meaningless drama and high school angst?

"Well…" she was unsure of what to say. "My parents are both dentists. I, um, like to read. Sometimes even muggle fiction. I like writing that's poetic and dense, but if Harry and Ron ever found out, the teasing would never stop." She grew quiet again, wondering what else there was to say.

"I am not entirely unfamiliar with muggle literature. Which books are your favorites?"

"I love Faulkner and Nabokov. I read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn for the first time when I was eight, and have been in love with it ever since." Her blush deepened as she fervently hoped her professor had never heard of the second author.

Snape had always loved Nabokov's work for its beauty, complexity, and utterly erotic perversion. He felt a small surge of arousal. He would have never imagined that the young girl in front of him could appreciate even the most brilliant work containing this kind of depravity. Before his thoughts could grow more dangerous, he made an effort to change the subject.

"I have never read the book you mentioned. What do you like about it?"

"It's about a girl growing up in poverty. There are a lot of painful things in her life, but the beauty she finds in the decaying city around her always gave me so much hope. I know it's kind of silly, but it helps me remember to appreciate the joy I can take in seemingly insignificant moments."

"Where do you find joy?"

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering. "The smell of books, the color of the sky in autumn, the way a stone floor feels on my bare feet on a warm day, the light way a gentle breeze lifts and plays with my hair. A lot of things." Especially dark, penetrating eyes, flawless white skin, dark silky hair cascading around a stern face, and most of all, the way the face sometimes softened when he looked at her.

She had never struck him as being so appreciative of the things the world around her could do to her senses. Visions of her face glowing with pleasure flashed before his eyes before he pushed them violently to the back of his head.

He had wanted to heal her, to revive the vibrant girl that had retreated, hidden behind the shadows in her face. That was when it came to him, intense and undeniable.

He loved her. Something had awakened inside him and was growing. He couldn't allow himself to be alone with her anymore, to pay any more attention to her than he would another student. As desperately as he wanted to protect her, to hold her close and shield her from the world, he had to do what was best for her. Maybe, years from now, there could be something between them, if she ever felt something for him. Now, he had to put a stop to this before it got out of hand.

He set a plate in front of her, two egg whites and a single slice of whole wheat toast. Sinking into the chair across from her, he began eating in silence.

Hermione was completely unaware of the taste and texture of the substance she mindlessly forced herself to consume.

I must have said something really stupid. He's not even bothering to talk to me anymore. Probably thinks I'm an idiot.

Finally, when she had eaten her last bite, Snape spoke.

"I will need to see that your arm is healing before you leave." He stood, and walked over to her, gently pulling the bandage away from her arm. The angry looking cuts from the night before had faded into pink lines. "It seems to be ok. You may want to keep it bandaged for a few days, just to be safe. You should have plenty of time to shower and dress before your first lesson today." He led her to the door, handing her a box of bandages. "Please, take care of yourself." Hermione wondered why there was so much sadness in his eyes. "If it appears that you have not been taking care of yourself in the coming few weeks, I will be forced to speak with Professor Dumbledore. Attempting to care for you on my own, and allowing your presence in my living quarters has been highly inappropriate. "

Hermione's heart sank as the meaning finally reached her. The one person who could see her pain wanted nothing to do with her.