November 1995

Hermione was slinking down the corridor by herself after their third DA meeting. She had stayed behind to tidy the room and review some of the instructional texts, waving Ron and Harry on without her. Now it was past curfew, and while her position as prefect would keep her out of trouble if she was caught, she did not desire being found anywhere near their secret meeting room.

She was peering around a corner, checking that the hall was clear, when a hand grabbed her arm and another clamped over her mouth, both pulling her backwards behind a tapestry. Struggling with the person holding her hostage, Hermione twisted and scrabbled at the hand against her mouth, when her captor spoke in a voice that Hermione would recognize anywhere.

"Miss Granger, come this way, quickly," Snape whispered, towing her into a concealed corridor. "I will release you if you promise not to make a sound."

Hermione ceased her fighting and nodded to show him she had heard and understood. Slowly, as though he did not quite trust her, Snape removed one long-fingered hand from her lips. When it became apparent that she was not going to scream, his other hand released her arm, and he began walking quickly forward again.

"Keep up, Miss Granger," he whispered over his shoulder.

Following him at a jog, Hermione wondered where they were going – and for that matter, where they were. Thanks to Harry and his penchant for wandering the castle, she thought she knew just about every secret passageway and shortcut, but this one was new. The corridor, which was hardly more than a narrow tunnel between walls, was dimly lit, and she could not see the end of it.

Snape, looking back at her, slowed his pace slightly, and they continued to walk for about five minutes before reaching a solid metal door. Snape swished his wand silently and the door opened into a small circular room that contained a sink, couch, and another metal door. Hurriedly closing the door behind her, Snape strode around to the opposite side of the tiny room and faced her.

"No doubt you are wondering why I have brought you here," Snape began, staring at her intensely. She nodded. "It has come to my attention, Miss Granger, that you and several other students – Potter and Weasley included – have indeed formed some sort of secret defense group, despite the most recent educational decree and warnings from several Order members." He paused, still staring at her, his eyes studying hers. "I feel I must remind you how dangerous it is – especially for Potter – to continue to defy Dolores Umbridge in this manner," he admonished.

Hermione felt this was grossly unfair, and opened her mouth to argue, but Snape held up a hand and continued in a silky hiss. "I do not believe I need to tell you how much she would enjoy punishing the lot of you if she were to find out," he said, and there was real anger in his voice now. "I beseech you to end this foolhardy plan at once!"

Crossing her arms and holding herself stiffly, Hermione replied, "It is not foolhardy! We have taken every precaution –"

"Then take more!" Snape snarled, taking several steps forward. "Don't you see what you are doing, you silly girl, putting yourself and others at risk in such a manner!" Snape's hands landed on her shoulders, and he looked as though he wanted to shake her.

"I – we – it's for their own good!" Hermione spluttered, taken aback by the ferocity of Snape's tone. "Don't YOU see what she's doing, what the Ministry's doing? They're preventing us from learning spells – useful spells – our whole generation won't know how to defend themselves from Vol-"

Snape's eyes had widened as she started to say the name, and she froze, uncomfortably aware of their position. She was alone, with Professor Snape, in some strange little room of the castle, and he was chastising her about the DA, almost as if… as if he cared what happened to them. Seeming to come to the same realization as her, Snape's hands fell to his sides, and he took a step back, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he did so.

"Miss Granger, I sympathize with your position, really, but in this climate it is most unwise to step out of line in so spectacular a manner." The snide sarcasm in his voice was more like she was accustomed to, and she relaxed at the return of her usual Potions master.

"Be that as it may, Professor, I have made my decision and I will not be cowed by that woman – or the Ministry," Hermione said firmly. "And I know I speak for Harry and Ron and Neville and Ginny and Luna and the others, as well."

Frowning, Snape muttered, "How very Gryffindor," before pacing over to the tiny window set next to the other door and staring out into the night. Hermione tentatively joined him, looking out at a breathtaking view of the Great Lake from their position very high up.

"What is this room?" she asked softly, unable to contain her curiosity. One side of Snape's mouth kicked up in an amused sort of smirk.

"Ah, and now the questions begin," he murmured, resignedly turning to face her. "This room, Miss Granger, is merely a resting point between the rest of the castle and what lies outside this door – the only spot on the entire grounds where Apparation is possible." Hermione noticed another quirk of his lips as he took in her dubious expression. "Yes, you heard me correctly," he said before she could ask. "However, only Dumbledore and myself know the incantations to lift the Apparation defenses, and even then, it is only to and from the small balcony on the other side of this door on which it will work. Even if someone else managed to lift the spells, they likely would be unaware that one must Apparate through a very distinct path in the shields around the castle in order to come or go without fatally splinching themselves."

Hermione blinked, trying to process all of this fascinating information. "So – so you are saying – that you can Apparate – along a distinct path?" Snape nodded in confirmation. "But that's… I'm sorry, Professor, that's just amazing! I've never heard of such a skill in all my studies…" Her eyes glazed over as she tried to recall everything she'd ever read about Apparation.

She was startled out of her musings by a harsh bark of amusement. Looking at him inquiringly, she thought that she had never seen Snape quite so unguarded.

"Yes, Miss Granger, it takes prodigious skill indeed," he said, and she had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her. "As it is a skill Dumbledore and myself developed together, I am not surprised that you have not read about it. However," and now his voice had returned to the serious timbre of her professor, "I trust that I need not remind you that our conversation tonight – in fact, all the events of tonight – must remain strictly confidential?" He raised his eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

"Of course," she breathed. "I won't speak of this to anyone – not even the boys."

"Good." Snape nodded. "Then it is time I returned you to the hallway." Leading the way back to the door which they had previously entered, Snape beckoned for her to follow, one finger to his lips to indicate that she should remain quiet. Stopping at the door, he spun around again. "Before we go, Miss Granger, might I suggest that you read up on the healing properties of murtlap essence?" he suggested.

"Um, certainly," she answered, suddenly alert. "Why do you mention murtlap essence, Professor?" If he knew what Umbridge was doing to Harry and hadn't said anything to the other teachers-

"You will find that murtlap essence makes a powerful soothing and healing balm," he explained. "And unfortunately, I believe you will also come to find a great number of students in need of such a balm before too much longer." With that enigmatic statement, he pulled the door open and strode into the passageway. Hermione felt a chill of foreboding after the way he'd mentioned "a great number of students".

.oOo.

As he stalked silently down the narrow corridor, Snape thought that the girl had taken the surprise ambush rather well. He had wanted to speak to her, alone, since she was the only one of the lot of them with any sense. However, he had been unable to think of a plausible reason to keep her after class or retain her in the Great Hall after a meal. He knew that Umbridge was becoming more suspicious every day; thus, it had become imperative to speak to Hermione as soon as possible, which explained his less-than-ideal abduction from the hallway.

Not bothering to check that she was still behind him, Snape paused at the concealed entry to the corridor. Beyond this door was a tiny alcove behind a tapestry, which he knew had been located by passerby on occasion. Deciding to warn her one last time before they were back where someone could hear them, Snape turned and nearly collided with the girl, she was so close. He was about to open his mouth to plead with her to halt their secret meetings when an irritatingly familiar scent filled his nostrils.

"Why do you smell of honey and almonds?" he hissed at her, a panicked feeling starting to stir in the pit of his stomach.

"I – what?" Hermione looked utterly confused.

"Honey. And. Almonds," he enunciated slowly. "Why do I detect their aroma on your skin?" He leaned closer and sniffed delicately about her hair and shoulders.

She stared at him as though he had grown a second head. "Er, well, not that it's any of your business, but I happen to be particularly fond of a Muggle body scrub with that fragrance," she said defensively, still not certain where this was going. "How can you tell, anyway?" she asked.

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "In case you have not noticed, Miss Granger, I am the owner of one of the largest noses in all of Britain, and as it happens I have a noteworthy talent for identifying odors." Her eyes dropped to his nose, and she stared for many long moments before opening her mouth, no doubt to argue. Wishing to avoid this humiliating conversation entirely, Snape snapped, "My eyes are up here, Miss Granger."

Her own flew to his, a pink blush of embarrassment staining her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Professor, I –"

"It is of no consequence," Snape said, and he was trying to convince himself as well as her. "Do not mention it again," he added, snapping at her as though she had brought up this topic. Taking one more deep breath before stepping as far back as the corridor would allow, he spoke again. "Remember what I have said – you are not to repeat any of this to anyone, do you understand?" She nodded gravely. "Very well. I will urge you, once more, to reconsider your current course of action… even though I know that attempting to sway a Gryffindor from their plan is futile in the extreme." He sighed deeply, and she looked up at him, a broad grin splitting her face.

"Indeed it is, but thank you for your concern nonetheless," Hermione said softly, placing a small hand on his arm. "I appreciate it."

Snape stared down, entranced by the dainty fingers on his sleeve. Not wanting to dwell on how this made him feel, especially following the unwelcome knowledge that the girl bathed in a honey-almond scent, Snape removed her hand from his arm with excruciating deliberation. Giving her his best glare, he hissed, "Get back to your dorm, Miss Granger, and hurry!" The ridiculous girl gave him another smile before darting out into the hallway beyond the tapestry. He listened as her quick footsteps faded, and he hurriedly returned to his own quarters.

Moving to a locked cabinet in his lab, he removed the small vial of Amortentia that he had kept there for more than four years now. Uncorking it with trepidation, his nose confirmed what he'd already suspected – the blasted concoction still reeked of roses, books and the unusual honey-almond. He now knew, without a doubt, what the honey-almond component was, and it did not take a genius to realize what the scent of ancient books indicated, as Hermione Granger was known amongst the staff for her tendency to fall asleep while studying in the library several nights a week.

As for the roses… he couldn't be sure, but he guessed that he would not be surprised to learn that they were Miss Granger's favorite flower. He replaced the vial in the cabinet, shoving it far to the back. He only wished he could bury the apparent meaning of the love potion's perfume as easily. Damn, damn, damn.


A/N: Chapter 10, in which we all fall to our knees and worship WeasleySeeker. The title was an easy one to pick out. Not J.K., not even British, not even close.