Disclaimer: Not her, not paid, not even very good. Anything you recognize belongs to JKR.

Many thanks to my beta, sempra, for excellent work, as usual.

Her Gifts

Chapter 10

"How long have you felt this way, Miss Granger?" he asked quietly, noting she looked disconcerted at revealing as much as she had, though he detected no deceit in her expression.

"In truth, I have always felt tremendous respect for you and felt great admiration for you when you returned to You-Know-Who for Dumbledore, but the physical attraction part is fairly new." She jutted her chin defiantly, meeting his eyes.

"How new?" he pressed. He stood up, inadvertently exposing himself as the sheet fell away, to pull up his boxers. Hermione's gaze was drawn immediately and unbidden to his groin, and she flushed and turned away. He noticed but said nothing, smirking at her flustered reaction. It was his most attractive feature after all. She collected her thoughts and continued.

"Since last year when you taught Defense. I could sense your passion for the subject, even more so than for Potions. That passion invaded my dreams at night and started carrying over into my days," she admitted, feeling as if she had laid her soul bare for his scrutiny. "I would never have acted on it, though. I'm not brazen enough to try to force unwanted attentions on another person, and especially not your person." He raised his eyebrow in invitation to explain further. "Well, you don't exactly exude a desire for human contact, Professor. In fact, Dumbledore was the only person I ever saw put a hand on you."

He nodded in acknowledgment of her assumptions. "Very well. I must confess I never saw myself desiring you of all people. This last week has forced me to reconsider my previous perception of you. Your association to The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Thorn-In-My-Backside and your annoying habit of spouting knowledge prevented me from noticing anything else about you."

She laughed, not at all offended. "I haven't done that in years. At first, I did. But you must realize, being Muggle-born, I was so desperate to fit in that I didn't want anyone to realize I didn't belong. I was so enthralled with being a witch that I spent my entire summer before first year memorizing my text books. It became a habit. I couldn't get enough knowledge. I had to read everything I could get my hands on. Of course, my parents, being professionals in the Muggle world, encouraged me to excel. Frankly, yours were the only subjects in which I failed to become proficient."

"Of course," he cut in. "Being a Death Eater, I could hardly acknowledge your accomplishments without the Dark Lord finding out about it. You are the proof that the pure-blood stance is inherently flawed. If he knew how powerful you actually are, he would stop at nothing to extinguish your life." She paled slightly at this."That doesn't explain your exceedingly lengthy essays, however."

"That, I admit, was my secret indulgence," she smiled. "If I couldn't talk to the one person I found eminently more interesting than anyone else...," she trailed off, spreading her hands. "It felt almost like a one-sided conversation with you. I'm sorry if it annoyed you."

"Are you suggesting that your essays for the other teachers weren't overly long?" He asked skeptically.

"Sometimes, I imagine, if I was particularly intrigued with the topic. But not like yours," she confessed, chagrined.

He seemed to consider this for some minutes. He reflected that he really couldn't remember any of the other teachers mentioning having received exceedingly long essay assignments on a regular basis. "It seems I have misjudged your intent. What I found irritating was supposed to be flattering. I was mistaken. I am unused to flattery in such a form. Over my tenure I have received many overtures from students scheming for better marks. I concede that you hardly needed help to improve your grades."

At a loss for words for the first time in her life, Hermione merely nodded.

"Does my age not trouble you?" he suddenly posited, frowning.

Hermione's brows drew inward, giving the appearance of intense introspection. "Not as such, really. In the long term, our life expectancy being what it is, we can reasonably assume we have another hundred years or so of life to live, provided we aren't killed in the coming war. So no, your age isn't a factor. Does it bother you?" she countered.

Her answer unaccountably pleased him. He knew he ought to feel like a lecherous old man, but he didn't. He could imagine how the rest of society would react, but he wasn't much concerned with other people's opinions. Minerva would have kittens, most likely. He found the thought amusing. "Not as much as it probably should," he finally admitted, smirking. Hermione grinned back.

As Snape finished dressing, Hermione scourgified her sheets, removing any trace of his blood or black hair that may have been lost during the night. The sun was just starting to reflect on the windows of the building across the street. She could hear the dust bin truck coming up the block.

"The boys will be awake soon. I have to go down and start breakfast," she said. "If you are ready to leave, you may precede me down to the entryway." She glanced at him expectantly.

He took in her attire, scowling. "You intend to go downstairs dressed like that?"

Hermione smirked. "Like I said, we're only best friends. They don't see me like that. I don't think they have even noticed I've grown breasts, yet," she answered, coloring at her own frank words.

Severus swallowed down his sudden feeling of possessiveness for this startlingly fascinating young woman. "Still, a dressing gown would be more appropriate, Hermione," he said gently. He reached down and grabbed it off the chair, holding it open for her. As she slipped her arms into the sleeves, he pressed his nose to the side of her neck, inhaling deeply. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her from behind. She turned in his arms, sliding her own arms around his waist and returning the embrace. He reveled in the entirely foreign sensation of acceptance and warmth from this newly discovered affection. Begrudgingly releasing her, he bent and kissed her on the forehead. "I must leave now. I am expected back at the Dark Lord's compound at breakfast."

Hermione nodded, relinquishing her hold. "Please be careful, Severus," she pleaded, tears springing to her eyes as she momentarily grasped his hands. She rose on her tip-toes and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. His name from her lips sounded like hope to his ears.

Severus was touched by her open display of concern on his behalf . Gaining his composure, he pulled out his wand, released the wards on the room and disillusioned himself. Hermione opened her door and checked that the hallway was empty before allowing him to exit. They made their way to the front entry without notice. At the foot of the stairs, he grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her around toward the sitting room and out of view of the first floor stairway landing. He pulled her into a fiercely passionate kiss, pouring his years of pent up frustration into it. Hermione moaned quietly as he pressed for, and was granted, access to her mouth.

The kiss ended as quickly as it started. Severus swiftly exited the house, leaving Hermione feeling suddenly bereft and uncomfortably aroused. Fanning herself, she crossed the entry and descended the steps into the kitchen.