Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Duh.

Author's Note: I'm a terrible author. Everyone has been waiting for this story for ages. Oops. ):

Chapter Ten – Passion

I found myself in a strange room.

I looked around and saw that Neville was in the room as well, and there were lots of paintings on the walls. The room was disturbingly bright and colorful. Upon closer inspection, I realized the paintings were disturbing as well – the subjects had an undead look about them, almost like Inferi. Their clothes were ripped and torn and their eyes had a dead look about them. They were all whispering to each other in a language I didn't recognize.

Suddenly, I realized it was Parseltongue.

Neville was holding a baby in a blue blanket. The baby was crying uncontrollably and would not stop, no matter what Neville did. The subjects in the paintings kept laughing and pointing at Neville, their hisses frantic, as if ridiculing him for being unable to control the small baby. I suddenly knew that it was very important I get a hold of this baby. I kept trying to reach the two of them but no matter how fast I walked, they never got any closer. Finally, I broke into a run. The paintings began to swirl, and the combination of noises and colors began to make me quite dizzy. I lost my balance and fell down.

When I looked up, Neville was gone. Instead, Snape was there, and the baby had stopped crying. He was singing it a lullaby in a surprisingly cool and pleasant voice. He looked at me and smiled, and beckoned me closer.

"P-professor, what is going on?" I whispered. I had lost all feeling in my body from fear.

He didn't speak, only smiled. And he beckoned me again.

I stood up, shakily. My heart was pounding. I cannot tell you why I was so frightened, but something about this did not feel right at all. The paintings were hissing again, quietly but frantically.

I began to walk toward Snape, and to my surprise I was able to reach him. I stopped a few feet away from and tried to get a look at the baby he was holding. I was too far away so I stepped closer, until I was close enough to touch it.

I looked into the bundle in Snape's arms and realized with horror what he was holding. The baby had scaly-looking skin and a flat face with red eyes. They were locked onto me and I opened my mouth to let out a scream.

The last thing I remember before I woke up was the look of panic on Snape's face.

I woke up the next morning in a confused state of mind. I vaguely remember having an extraordinarily disturbing dream, but the majority of the details were lost to me. I struggled to remember the dream. It was so vivid…

A room…Neville…Snape…and a deformed baby… Mostly all I could recall was the feeling of intense fear. How strange.

My thoughts eventually travelled to the previous night's events and my heart began to pound faster immediately. It was Saturday, so I was not forced to face Snape until 8 o'clock that evening. Did he still expect me to show up at his detention? My entire body tingled at the memory of our kiss. Did that actually happen? Did Professor Snape actually kiss me?

Oddly enough, I wanted it again. I hadn't felt this way since my fourth year with Viktor Krum, and even then, his touches were clumsy and what he called his "love" for me was nothing other than lust. But even still, I had desired Viktor in a way I had never desired anybody else, not even Ron. Perhaps this was because we had actually acted on our passions, while Ron and I did nothing but bicker.

I smiled, remembering the feel of Snape's mouth on mine. I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that it would indeed happen again.

I finally emerged from my dormitory to find Harry and Ron sitting in the common room doing homework which was fairly shocking for me. Usually on Saturdays they were outside playing Quidditch or messing around in the Great Hall.

"You woke up late this morning," Harry stated as I sat down next to him.

"I had trouble falling asleep last night," I said, blushing slightly.

The both of them looked at me, concerned.

"Was it Snape? Did he do something to upset you?" Harry asked immediately.

"No, no," I said, a little too quickly. "It was nothing like that." I began to blush again, and to my dismay Ron squinted at me, a look he only gave me when he was suspicious of me.

"Well, if he does, you better tell me as soon as it happens," Harry snarled.

I laughed out loud. "I'll be sure to do that."

We fell into silence for a few moments, which Ron finally broke.

"Er – Hermione, do you think you could help me with this essay? I'm a bit stuck on the intro…"

I smiled. I was waiting for this.

"Sure, sure…"

As I was helping Ron with his essay, I began to think about Neville and our conversation the night before. My heart panged for him in a way I didn't understand. I had known Neville for years – we all had – and I had no idea he was such a sad person.

"Last night Neville and I had an interesting talk," I said. To be quite honest, I wasn't planning on talking about it, but I had a feeling that I probably should.

"Oh really?" Harry asked. "And what was it about?"

"Well…I found him in the halls after my detention and I helped him carry his books back to the common room. Then we started talking and…well…I think he's sad," I finished lamely.

"Sad?" Ron said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, it's so odd…the way he was talking, it was like he hated himself and his life. He said he wished he were Harry so he would feel accepted more."

Harry laughed out loud, but it was a cruel sound. It made me angry.

"What are you laughing about?" I demanded.

"I don't know if you haven't noticed, Hermione, but my life isn't exactly a picnic," Harry said. "Why in the world would Neville want to be me?"

"You weren't there…You didn't see him and the look on his face," I retorted. "I feel like…something is seriously wrong with him."

"What – like he's depressed or something?" Ron asked.

"I…guess so," I replied slowly. "I think he feels alone a lot."

"Why doesn't he go to Madame Pompfrey for a Pick-Me-Up?" Ron asked. "That would make him feel better in no time."

I considered this for a moment. "I honestly think he's embarrassed...he wants to try to make it on his own. I think he feels like a failure to his family. I suppose depression would just add on to his stack of "failures" in his mind."

"Perhaps he doesn't recognize he's depressed," Harry offered.

"Perhaps…" I said, lost in thought. "I want to help him, but I don't know how."

"We have far too much to worry about with N.E.W.T.s to add Neville on top of it! Hermione, he'll be fine. He's probably just stressed because of school. They've really been piling it on us since the first day of class," Ron said, staring at me with a look of confusion. "Why are you so worried about him? We've known him for seven years and you've never had an interest in his mental state before."

"Well, that was before he practically told me he was depressed, wasn't it?" I snapped. "For goodness sake, Ron, you're so tactless sometimes!"

I got up and left the common room without another word. Ron irritated me so much with his thoughtless comments. I stormed all the way to the Great Hall and sat down by myself to eat some breakfast.

After preparing a plate of eggs and sausage, I began to eat, trying to get rid of the anger I felt toward Ron. Really, he's just been stressed from school and all the work the teachers have been piling on us. He didn't mean what he said.

After about five minutes I began to feel as if someone was watching me. I turned my head toward the teachers' table and saw Snape sitting there, looking at me. My heart began pounding at the very sight of him. This was not good at all.

I suddenly lost my appetite but did not want to get up and leave from his sight. However, staring at him was not exactly the wisest thing for me to do, so I began to look around the Great Hall for someone to talk to. Then I noticed Neville, all the way at the very end of the Gryffindor table.

I got up and walked over to him.

"Hi, Neville," I said.

He jumped slightly and looked at me. Upon realizing it was me, his face broke into a smile.

"Hi Hermione!"

I sat down next to him, noticing his plate of baked beans and bacon.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked timidly.

"Oh, I'm fairly good," he said, taking a bite of his breakfast. "I had a right awful time sleeping last night though."

"Me, too," I replied. "I had such a strange dream."

"What was it about?"

I was silent for a moment, trying to remember. "I really don't remember it, but I know it was odd."

"Ah."

Silence for a moment. I looked up at Snape, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. I felt a sting of disappointment.

I looked back at Neville and put my hand on his.

"Hey…" I started. He had looked down at our hands, eyes widening. "I just want you to know…I'm here for you. You know, if you ever need to talk."

"Oh – um, well…th-thank you, Hermione," Neville stuttered. I was fairly confused as to why he was reacting this way, but then I realized with a start that it had to do with my hand on his. I took my hand and put it in my lap.

"No problem," I said. I looked at Snape and realized he was watching the both of us, eyes narrowed, his mouth in a very rigid frown.

To be continued.

Reviews are appreciated. Tell me how I'm doing.