What up, peeps?

It's weird to see that everywhere I go, there is some sort of "Back to school!" sign. Frankly, I'm glad I'm out of high school and that I don't go to college. Definitely not my thing. XD I like working but I admire all of you who can stand going into school/college and sitting all day, listening to some teacher go on and on. (shudders) Regardless, all of you are much braver than I am, so, kudos to you! For all of you going/preparing to go back to school, good luck and may the Force be with you!

I know that it's been a painful journey, going through Relentless and I know it's been a slow journey so far with our lovely Snanger pairing emotionally/physically, but don't worry. I've got a few treats for you guys in the next few chapters, coming up. So! Bear with me. You won't reget it. ;)

*Sending out a big "thank you" to my beta, FreeSpiritSeeker! What a trooper, standing by me ;) *

Now! On with the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. They are property of JKR. If I did, however, Snape would not have died.

Overlook an offense and bond a friendship;
fasten on to an insult and—good-bye, friend!

Proverbs 17:9, The Message Translation

The gears in Hermione's head were cranking the very moment she opened her eyes. Jolting out of bed without a second glance at her clock, her mind was already running a thousand miles ahead of her and her body was being dragged along in her wake. Her legs even gave out once or twice as she swept off to the loo.

Today was the day; the day she had been training so long for. Every hour of improving her charms, rereading spell books, and perfecting enchantments and here she was – a mere hour and a half away (how she deduced this without having a clock, one can only wonder) from her first day of teaching Hogwarts students as a Hogwarts professor.

She wasn't necessarily used to the phrase 'butterflies in the stomach' – as it sounded too juvenile - but it was the closest thing to describe her body's response to her emotions. Her body felt so electric, alive with exhilaration.

Oh, Merlin, I may faint…

After washing up, she fit into her new dress robes. Ginny spoiled her as a best friend, this she knew. The new robes were from Gladrags Wizardwear, fashioned and constructed for her. She adjusted the sleeve of the robe before turning to look at her reflection.

She had never worn robes like these before. Her average robes were always loose and breathable for any sort of activity but not these robes. In fact, she'd never worn anything like it before. It actually fit her curves and flattered her figure. She wasn't a busty woman, by any means, but the way these robes clung to her body made her feel a boost of confidence that she was sure came from nowhere.

They made her look like a new woman.

"I think I look bloody good!" She stood in front of her mirror, beaming at her reflection. "Blimey! These robes are perfect!" A fleeting image of a certain red head passed through her mind and she was instantly reminded of who bought her the robes. "I really need to get something nice for Ginny. It's only fair."

"Now, it's my first day and first impressions are everything," she said quietly to herself as she observed her reflection. "Should I wear perfume?"

A blur of orange and brown leapt into her peripheral vision. She glanced in Crookshanks direction and wasn't surprised to find him facing her, his lazy eyes staring back at her. "What do you think, Crooks?" she asked the cat. "Perfume or no perfume?"

As expected, the cat blinked lethargically at her and then turned back to attending to licking his paws. Hermione gave a reluctant smile as she scratched the cat behind his ears. "Big help, you are, Crooks," She told him in a light tone. "Can't even help me out on this little thing?" The cat gave no reply and Hermione glanced back at her reflection. Granted, she didn't need perfume. It wasn't a formal occasion and it wasn't like people will be interested in smelling her. She tapped a finger against her lips. She wasn't quite sure if she should use perfume, but then again, why shouldn't she?

Without further shillyshallying, she used a Summoning Charm and a small bottle of perfume zoomed in from the bedroom, suspended in the air beside her. She applied very little of the perfume to her fingertip and dabbled the small drips of liquid onto her neck and the insides of her wrists.

Taking a step back, she felt another burst of confidence fill her and she felt herself become taller. It was a silly thing to even say, as one doesn't just simply become taller, but it certainly felt that way. And by looking in her reflection at the moment, she felt like a brand new witch.

Smiling to herself, she set the perfume bottle aside and spun in a circle in front of the mirror, and her robes twisted with her, swooshing as she twirled around.

"I really do look good!" she said again. Pressing her nose to her wrist, she inhaled the sweet scent of the elf-made perfume. It gave off a truly fascinating aroma, made from rare Snowberry buds and Hawaiian Gardenia petals. It was one of her favorite smells and it was given to her as a present for Easter from Ron.

Hermione's smile instantly faded.

She had almost completely forgotten about her spat with Ron from the night before. The joy and confidence she had waned a little and was replaced with something darker. She and Ron had plenty of spats before. It wasn't unusual for them to have a disagreement and plenty of which she blamed on Ron and, in her opinion, rightfully so. However, what Ron had said the night before was true. It was so true and so on the dot that it nearly scared Hermione a little.

It wasn't just his fault why their relationship simply wasn't working the way that it should have been. She was just as guilty for neglecting him and why their relationship was going through a rough patch.

Tugging at the sleeve of her robe, she wondered what Ron would think of her new robes. Would he like them? Perhaps pay her a compliment? Or would he not even notice them, like he seemed to in every single aspect of their relationship?

"I can't be thinking of these things," she quietly berated herself. "I have things I need to take care of. I have students now. I can't be allowing my personal affairs to interfere with my job."

Not giving it a minute more of her time, she shook it off completely and gathered a few books from her nightstand. She had breakfast and a morning class to look forward to.

"I hate you, Severus Snape! You handed James and I over to be killed! You betrayed me!"

The pain was indescribable and burned his skin and it chilled him to his core. It was the same agony that occurred every day but it intensified each and every time. He briefly wondered how much longer he would be able to endure such excruciating agony. Lily Evans – or rather, the Boggart - wasn't even touching him, but then again, she did not need to. Lily's voice screeched at him over and over again – her words cutting through him like a sharp, hot blade. Personally, he would have preferred the sharp blade over her cruel, truthful words.

"Forgive me!" he begged hoarsely, his throat tightened with raw emotion, making it harder for him to breathe normally. He coughed violently. It felt as if his oxygen supply was getting cut off and it burned his lungs when he tried to take in a breath. "Forgive me, Lily!"

His wand long abandoned on the floor a few feet away, Severus was already on his knees in front of the image of his love, begging her for reconciliation. But the Boggart bearing her image would hear none of it. Using the voice and face of the woman he loved, it lashed out at him, cursing him, damning him to the deepest, darkest parts of Hell, to never see the light again…

"P-Please!" the wizard pleaded, groveling before the image of Lily. He pressed his forehead to the cold floor so hard that it hurt. But he didn't care. All he wanted was for her to forgive him or for him to die. "I'll do anything! Just forgive me!"

"I'll never forgive you!" She screeched back at him, her words ringing in his ears. He wished that the Boggart would strike him instead. Anything would be better than these cold, hateful words. "I'll hate you forever! My happiness is gone! My son is the only person I care about and you treated him like dirt! Why should I give you peace when all you did to him was to make him suffer? Why should I give you forgiveness? You don't even deserve the honor of licking the bottom of his shoes!"

I want to throw up, the wizard thought miserably to himself. I feel sick and I want to sleep…

He heard the rustling of fabric and soft shoes clicking on the floor. He glanced up. Minerva had stepped forward with a look of brazen determination set on her elderly features. She had already had her wand raised and pointed directly at the Boggart and she was not going to stop.

But that didn't stop Severus from trying. "Minerva, don't—!"

But it was too late. The Headmistress had already called out "Riddikulus!" and the Boggart's shrieking and shouting were immediately replaced with a soft pop! Lily Evan's resentful features quickly vanished into wisps of black smoke. The Boggart fought back for a moment before it was hurled far above into the air then slammed into the bottom of the large trunk, causing the room around them to shake briefly.

Severus watched as Minerva tucked her wand away in her sleeve once the locks and latches of the trunk securely bolted themselves. The trunk reverberated echoes of the Boggart's protests for a few moments, and then the room was filled with a peaceful quietness.

Once the wizard found strength, he shakily stood to his feet but not before retrieving his wand first. The negative effects – both physical and mental – were gone now and replaced with something darker. Was he truly incapable of defeating the Boggart? Was it not in him whatsoever to complete this measly little task that any third-year could pass with flying colors? He was no longer physically sick – but he certainly felt disgusted with himself.

This was humiliating. Third years were going to be training to defeat Boggarts here in the next few weeks and they would be way ahead of him. He would have to have a session both before dawn and dusk, depending on if he and Minerva had students who were serving detention with them. But even then, he needed more practice.

Irritated, he tucked his wand away in the sleeve of his robes. He then turned to the witch and their eyes met. He half-expected her to gaze at him with sympathy and pity in her eyes – Oh, Merlin, he hoped not - but he was surprised to see none of those emotions there. Instead, all he saw in the old woman's eyes was a look of resolve.

"Today was a final test. This was the last time you could train with the Boggart."

Severus felt something akin to dread sink in the pit of his stomach.

"That is not yours to decide." He hissed at her and his feelings of disgust were quickly replaced by offense and outrage, but he did his best not to let it show on his face.

"I believe it is," Minerva remarked harshly. She quickly strolled up to him until she stood barely a foot away from him. She was an old woman, by any standards, physical or otherwise – with her grey hair, wrinkles, and what-have-you - but the fire in her eyes reflected the courage of a youth. In fact, by the way she was standing up to him, he felt as if she were towering above him instead of actually looking up to him. "You have not shown any sort of improvement for months, Severus. Months. You have not only proved that you are not able to deal with a Boggart, but you have proved that you are purely not ready to have the Dark Arts position – now or later."

Severus bit the inside of his cheek so that he didn't lash out at the witch, although it was his instinctive reaction. He found himself gritting his teeth instead to keep himself from speaking any words that he would regret later. He exhaled through his nose, straining to keep tight reins on his boiling temper.

"Minerva…" He started off as calmly as he could. "You need to listen-,"

"No, Severus, I don't." Minerva cut him off sharply and he dutifully held his tongue. "We have had these assemblies for quite some time now, with little to no improvement whatsoever. It will be difficult to continue these now that the school year has started up and we must return to our normal daily routines. I don't wish for you to divert your attention from the students when that is where your full focus should be. So until I give the word, these meetings will be put on hold until further notice and I will be returning the Boggart to Professor Doddle."

His eyes flashed up at her. "That is not-!"

"That is my final decision, Severus." The Headmistress cut him off once again. She was downright refusing to give him any other options other than to walk away. "I know how important this is to you, but you are on my time now. You will put the Boggart out of your mind and continue to perform admirably as one of my esteemed teachers. The students are eager to learn and you pour into them all that you can." She stepped closer to him and he could almost feel her eyes burning into his. It was nearly incredible how this old woman could strike obedience out of him. "Are we clear, Severus?"

Clenching his hands into fists, the dark-haired wizard nodded his head, not trusting himself at all to speak.

"Very well," Minerva said after what felt like an eternity. "I will ask Felix to retrieve the Boggart before his classes begin."

Anger and defeat flooded his senses so quickly that he didn't even notice her leaving him alone in the room. He contradictorily anticipated that she would change her mind. It was a foolish hope but he hoped regardless. He could not ask for anyone else to assist him with the Boggart other than Minerva, for she was the only person who could work with him in confidence and not hold his past failures over his head with judgment in her heart. Even though he was quite frustrated at this outcome, he found that he could not direct the negative emotions inside of him towards the Headmistress. She was only performing as a professional would by making sure that his focus was on his position as Potions master. Instead, he only felt disappointed in himself. It was his last chance to prove himself and Minerva only pointed out that he was not ready for it. A major hindrance on his part, but he could see her logic and reasoning in her judgment.

It was in everyone's best interest… Even if he didn't like it.

By the time he sat down for breakfast in the Great Hall, he felt a strange sense of calm within him. Perhaps for the time being, it would be best to leave the Boggart alone. He could always return to it later. For now, he would do what he could to improve on his fears and the next time he would face the Boggart, he would defeat it.

For the time being, all of his focus and energy needed to be on breaking the bond. Now, the last time he and Healer Castor had spoken to one another – about a week or so before - Castor had informed him that he had a limited time to break this bond before it could do damage to himself – or worse, to Hermione. The effects of the bond were the same as always: tingling in the magical points of his body, a small humming in the back of his skull, and always when Hermione herself was near or when he thought about her.

He recalled the conversation with Castor that same week and discussing the unusual symptoms her had been experiencing recently – increased heart rate, perspiration, and occasional tight stomach. Castor didn't really look alarmed at the time but simply confused and said that he would look into it when they had departed.

He would be seeing Castor soon and he looked forward with slight anxiousness for the results. He could only hope that there was some sort of beneficial outcome.

Knowing he had obtained his resolve, he snapped his fingers and a soft pop resounded behind him. He didn't turn to look as a small nonhuman hand with four wrinkly fingers set a large bowl delicately in front of him and a saucer beside it. He recognized it as special breakfast, asked for only on special occasions – the bowl held large black sausage upon a dollop of clotted cream. The saucer had delicately-placed slices of his favorite fruit with a garnish of an orange-peel in the shape of a wizard's hat. Satisfied with what was set before him, he waved his hand and with a faint pop, he knew that the House-elf had disappeared.

He then felt the familiar, faint tingling sensation.

"You're spoiled. You know that, don't you?"

Just like he didn't turn to the House-elf, he did not turn to acknowledge the witch behind his seat.

"I am hardly 'spoiled," he countered. "Whatever happened to 'good morning'? There are hardly any witches or wizards who use that phrase anymore."

The chair next to him slid across the floor and was quickly occupied. The faint scent of something unfamiliar was what made him finally turn his head.

"Is that… perfume?"

It didn't come as a shock that Hermione Granger was sitting next to him, however, he was very surprised at her robes. They were new, obviously – as he had never seen her wear them before. The dark robes clung to her hourglass form to show off her femininity with pride and modesty, and he expected no less from her. He was nearly certain he had seen the same exact robes in Gladrags Wizardwear not too long ago if not for the colored corset – with a scarlet fabric and gold lacings to show off her Gryffindor pride.

He briefly wondered what she would look like in Slytherin colors…

"Severus?"

It was only then that the Potions master realized he was staring at her robes. Or, more specifically, at her corset. Hm. Not one of my finer moments. Without the faintest blush, he met her eyes, boldly. He half-expected to see offense in her chocolate colored eyes, but instead, he saw a smile on her face – an amused smile at that.

"Why are you staring at my chest?" He could tell that she tried to sound upset, but her smile gave her voice away.

"Don't flatter yourself," He sat up straighter. "I had never seen you wear those robes before. I was simply observing."

"By observing you mean rubbernecking."

She was amused but he was not. He didn't exactly fancy the idea of being called – directly or indirectly – of being some sort of peeping tom, even if it was for amusement purposes only. In fact, he felt fairly insulted that she would insinuate that he would openly gawk at a woman's (or, for the sake of arguing, his former student's) chest. He opened his mouth to correct her but something stopped him. Her hand – warm and soft, as he remembered - was now resting upon his and his eyes involuntarily fastened on them.

A surge of energy – what felt like a small shock of electricity – coursed through his hand, shooting up his arm and causing his heart to skip a beat. It was almost incredible. The effects of the bond were changing almost every time he came into contact with this woman and, to be frank, it was becoming more of a nuisance than a help.

Her hand was small compared to his. No, it wasn't just her hand size that was different from his hand. Her hand was traced with the signs of life; pink, healthy-length fingernails… Warmth. It contrasted with his own hand in nearly every single aspect – while hers was full of life, his was the opposite. His skin was very pale and cold, spread out through long, unappealing fingers and darkening fingernails.

They were opposite, in so many ways.

But if they were so opposite, why was he always comfortable around her?

"Thanks for the laugh, Severus," her voice came at last and he met her eyes.

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes like they used to, almost as if she were trying to hold something back. She ate her breakfast in silence, poking at it every once in a while. He briefly wondered what was on her mind. And a part of him wished to pursue an answer, but he refrained. It was her first day of teaching so more likely than not, she was probably nervous. Leaving her to her own thoughts, he ate his breakfast in silence, casting a glance at her every once in a while.

And once in a while, he would catch her glancing back at him.

"Rustlebrush, Dominick?"

"Here."

"Salmon, Sarah?"

"Here."

"And lastly, Zickiman, Leah?"

"Here."

Hermione waved her hand and the floating roster board rested on the desk in front of her. Hee… She had a desk now. Filius couldn't have a normal desk, as he was so short he had to stand on top a couple of stacked books for the class to see him. It was a brand new desk, by the look of it. Not a single scratch, dent, or blemish in the perfect wood.

She fought the urge to giggle as she glanced up at the classroom, where each desk sat a first-year student. Her insides were fluttering about like hyper butterflies as their eager and curious eyes locked with hers that she half-wondered if she was going to be sick.

Shaking the thought out of her mind, she stood tall and clasped her hands in front of her. There was no room left for error.

"I'm glad to see that all of you are on time today, which is pretty impressive for first years. Now, we'll go ahead and get started. My name is Hermione Granger, but you can all call me-,"

The moment her name had been mentioned, the young students immediately turned to one another, whispering things in hushed, excited tones. Hermione blinked a few times. What did she say that had them go from quietly listening to adamantly chatting to one another?

"Professor Granger…" she finished, hoping to draw the students back in, but the effort was made to no avail.

The young students were long lost in their unwavering, eager conversations. She waited for a moment to observe them. Most of them would glance at her every one in a while during their brief exchanges. She heard her last name being passed around quietly and she briefly wondered waved her hand. A piece of chalk began to write her name on the screechy chalkboard behind her and every pair of eyes in the room shot up at her and she cheered at her ability to grab their attention at last. She cleared her throat.

"As I was saying, you can call me Professor Granger," she repeated now that all eyes were on her once again. "We'll be starting on basic, simple charms today. Now, does everyone have their wands?"

One timid little hand sailed into the air, catching Hermione's attention. It belonged to a first-year Ravenclaw girl.

"Yes, Ms…" Hermione tried to remember. "Salmon?"

The little girl's cheeks turned pink at her last name being called. Behind her glasses, her face flushed as red as she lowered her hand.

"Is it…" she hesitated, her voice as soft as a whisper. "Is it true that you fought alongside Harry Potter?"

All eyes flashed back to Hermione and she felt her stomach do a somersault. Was that what they were wondering and all antsy about? "Yes. That was me."

Another hand shot into the air. Before Hermione could answer him, he had already spoken up. "You helped him defeat You-Know-Who?" the Hufflepuff boy asked.

"Yes." She couldn't help but smile at the anxiousness from the children's faces. They were practically leaning forward across their desks. The witch leaned against her desk and folded her hands together. She was silly to assume that these children wouldn't know her name. Like Harry, her name was now forever imprinted in history as a heroine who helped the famous Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort. While she wasn't exactly flattered by it (in fact, she found it rather annoying) she couldn't get upset at the students for asking questions.

"Yes. Harry Potter and I are very good friends. I, like many others, assisted him in putting an end to Lord Voldemort and his followers."

It was a rare occurrence nowadays when Voldemort's name was mentioned that anyone would have a fit. That being said, a few students made soft sounds of protest at his name being mentioned. It was to be expected, she supposed. Some people still believed that Voldemort could rise to power again, or at least his Death Eaters would.

Just like that, dozens of hands shot up in the air and dozens more questions were all being asked at once. The tentative atmosphere in the room was immediately replaced with warmth of a child's curiosity. It was clear to the witch now that these students were far more interested in her adventures with the famous Harry Potter than their first Charms class. Hermione laughed and raised her hands, and the noise was silenced.

"Alright, alright. I'll answer all your questions and inquiries but only for a few minutes. Put your wands away and raise your hand if you have a question."

Usually, after a busy day like this, she'd feel so accomplished. But not at the moment. She sat and stared absentmindedly at her new desk. She had already had many fantasies about this moment of her first day of teaching – where she would be sitting quietly after the big first day, getting ready to plan the next lesson, but that wasn't going to happen for her tonight.

Hermione hadn't intended for the entire day to be focused around her – in fact, she'd much rather it be about expanding magic abilities of the young, bright students - but it ended up being about her anyway. She had spent so much time preparing lessons and focusing on not disappointing Minerva that she had almost forgotten that she was practically a celebrity in the wizarding world. Of course the students were going to idolize her and eyeball her and ask their questions.

So, half-reluctant and half-flattered, she answered all the students questions – no matter how practical or bizarre. Only, "a few minutes" lasted the whole first period, the next period, the one after; and, every period that day was based around the students asking about her and her story as a Hogwarts student.

She couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed in herself not as a person, but as a teacher .And she felt horrible that she couldn't assign them any homework. What were they supposed to do with themselves for the evening? They were going to go on to their other classes and think that Charms was a big joke. What would Minerva think of her? Or Filius? Would they be disappointed in her?

Well, I already feel pretty disappointed in myself. She sighed as she stood from her desk and smoothed out her robes. There was a bit of freetime left before supper in the Great Hall. She would check Gryffindor's House points and who was assigned detention, and perhaps later, to chat with Madam Hooch to see who she had in mind for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

She was halfway to the Great Hall when she was stopped outside of the Herbology classroom.

Nothing stopped her, per say. No object or person. Just a simple sight. Peeking inside of the Herbology classroom, she saw Neville leaning against his desk with a small, wooden picture frame in his hand. She normally would have just brushed it off her shoulder and moved onward. But there was something odd about the way Neville was looking at this picture frame. He held it with such delicacy, almost as if he were afraid to break it. He brushed his fingertips over the glass of the frame and gave a sad, brittle smile. He spoke and Hermione had to strain to hear his words.

"I wish you could see me now." He spoke to no one, or rather, the photograph. "You'd be so proud of me. Gram, too."

It must be a photograph of his parents. Hermione deduced quietly. She could think of no one else.

She found himself staring at Neville for a bit of time. In the few moments of watching him, analyzing him, the truth hit her like a ton of bricks. They were the exact same, her and him. They had both lost their parents. They weren't dead, but they were far beyond their reach. His parents lost their minds to madness and her parents didn't even know they had a daughter named Hermione Granger. Different circumstances but the same situation.

Is that what she looked like when she would be searching for her own parents? Looking so forlorn – lost? In this moment, when she observed Neville, she didn't see Neville – she saw herself. She knew full well the pain of losing one's parents.

It was a constant heartache. Sometimes one would bury it, pretend it's not there, but when you're in the quiet and you have nothing else to think about, it springs up again and it fills every thought and every need. The desire to be reunited with ones parents was like a deep cut that when she thought about it, it felt like salt was being poured over the wound. It stung her heart just thinking about it, that Neville was in the exact same pain.

They met often together during the summer, sharing meals and reading together in the library. He hid his pain so well. Even now as she watched him, she felt the same pain in her heart for her own parents.

The yearning to see her parents faded just a little and the aspiration to assist Neville grew in it's place. She didn't know how to assist him but all she knew was that she wanted to help him in any way she could…

And then, lightning struck her brain.

The idea was genius. Pure genius – perhaps a bit mad and a little nosy – but it was oh so genius.

She couldn't!

Oh yes, yes she could. But she'd need all the help she could get.

But from who?

Without a second thought, she took off sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction, towards the Dungeons.

Severus blinked up at her from grading papers, incredulous.

"You want to concoct a potion?"

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice echoing off the walls in the room. The wizard winced at the pitch of her voice but she didn't seem to notice. She was practically bouncing up and down with giddiness written all over her freckled features. She looked like a child on Christmas day. Whatever got her going was sure to fuel her for quite some time. "And not just any potion, Severus. A potion that can reverse the side effects of the victims affected by the Cruciatus Curse!"

Ah. She and Longbottom were such good friends that it only made sense. Longbottom's parents – like many others – were affected by the misuse of the Unforgivable Curse.

"And you wish to concoct this potion how?"

"Well, granted it won't be an easy task." She seemed quite unfazed by his statement. In fact, she kept on talking. Not that he was surprised. "There is so much to consider, after all. Ingredients and components and such, then side-effects and so on and so forth. And not to mention that we'll need to get this potion approved…"

The witch went on and on and Severus found himself no longer listening as his mind drifted away. He had seen the effects of the curse and it was not a sight for the fainthearted. He had been called to St. Mungo's many times before to observe these poor victims and was asked to see if any of his potions could remedy their predicaments. He pitied them as he watched them. The victims were rendered useless beings – not being able to even remember their children, let alone their own names. They wandered in St. Mungo's with curious eyes, like those of a newborn child; those who would see but would not understand...

"Severus? Severus!"

Severus blinked at the witch. "What?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

"No," he replied honestly, and felt his lips curl when Hermione's cheeks puffed up in annoyance. "Forgive me. My mind was elsewhere. By all means, continue chatting my ears off."

"I said, I wanted you to help me create this potion!"

The wizard felt his spine grow rigid of its' own will. He should have seen this request coming from miles away. And judging by the beaming smile on the witch's face, he would have to be so, so careful…

"Hermione," he began slowly, treading carefully. He had ruffled her feathers in the past, metaphorically speaking, and he would do his best to turn her down, only gently disappointing her. "There is a process that goes on when a potion is simplified, perfected, modified, and even worse – created. There are many things that coincide with creating one's own potion. Just as you had stated previously, there are several steps one must take to create a potion. First is the making of the potion – what ingredients you will need, working out all the kinks, making sure there are no unexpected side effects.

"Secondly are the long-term effects of the potion. Do the contents of the potion adjust to the drinkers' body, or does the body adjust to the potion? Does the potion have an expiration date? When would be a best time to take it? Will its contents provide a permanent outcome, or does one need to take it multiple times for a certain result? What occurs if one takes said potion more than once? Would taking the potion multiple times cause any discomfort of injury to the patient? To fashion such a potion would take weeks, no, months to prepare."

Severus hoped to deter her with his words, but instead, to his utter dismay, her smile only grew wider and wider.

"That's what I was hoping to hear!" she clasped her hands together, her curls bouncing with her enthusiasm. "Sure, it'll take a lot of work – maybe even months of work – but we can pull it off if we team up together! If we work hard now, maybe we can have it completed by the end of the school year – maybe even by Easter holiday!"

I cannot get her hopes up, he decided. She is young and eager and bright, but she is also getting ahead of herself. He sighed as he stood to his feet and turned to face the young witch.

"I am far from finished, Hermione. If those reasons alone are not enough, there are more things involved than just the potion. There is no cure – potion-wise, mind you – for the Cruciatus Curse. One cannot simply create a potion for it and wave it around, even if it could potentially cure anything. Healers would jump on it without a second thought, eager to try it on their patients. There are risks of testing a new potion on patients, in which serious problems could arise. Even if you and I worked on this potion and we did our best to create it to the best of our capabilities, there is still a high chance that it could go terribly wrong. I would prefer to not to have a bad outcome of a potion we both worked on rest on my conscience, or on yours."

Hermione's smile faltered. "Are you saying," the joy in her voice was quickly replaced with fear. "…that there's a chance we could kill someone?" Her eyes were wide with concern, as if she hadn't even considered the possibility.

"It is wise to always consider such probabilities," he told her serenely. "That is why I as a highly esteemed Potions master attempt to weigh the importance of learning potions – as well as trying ones best to learn the effects of all ingredients and proper measurements - on the students. It is naturally risky to create potions from scratch and then to have someone test it is even riskier. If something were to happen, it would fall on you and I. We would have no one to back us up if we were the ones responsible for one's tragedy. It would tarnish our names and our reputations."

The witch glanced down at her shoes and he wondered if he had succeeded in changing her mind. It was not as if her intentions were wicked or self-focused. Quite the contrary; she wanted to be a good friend to Longbottom and she wanted to assist him by healing his parents but she was still young, and quite stubborn, and did not understand the legal issues that came along with potion-making.

Were it to become a success - very unlikely - it would need to be mass-produced and sent out to Healers all over the world for their Cruciatus patients.

"You have been saying since the beginning of the school year that if I needed anything to ask you…"

He could see the disappointment in her eyes, but he would not be swayed.

"I did say that. But I believe that you don't understand what entails creating a potion. There is more involved-"

"Then teach me what you know!" Hermione cut him off. Her tone was higher like before, only it was pinched with desperation. "I know that if we set aside a time every day or so to work on it then we can-,"

"No," the raven-haired man cut her off this time, and she looked surprised that he did so. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, feeling that her protests were going to start flying very soon. "I understand your desire to assist your friend and his parents. However, you are a new teacher and your students are your new priority."

"I can juggle both, Severus. You know I can." She put her hands on her hips and her eyebrows creased. "You saw me as a student all those years. You know that I put everything I am into what I do. You know what I'm capable of."

She knew that he knew this information. He knew that she was one of the most qualified students that he ever had and what she was fully capable of. He could not deny this and they both knew that. But it would not work for him, either. He had far too much on his own plate with the Boggart, teaching, and the bond to worry about – now she wanted him to spend more time with her in creating a potion that could ruin the both of them.

He looked into her eyes for a long moment. He saw every bit of Gryffindor that she truly was – determination, courage, and even stubbornness. If it were not apparent before, he knew now that she was not going to be swayed if he continued to be soft with her. He had attempted to give her the softer approach, but it would not work this time. Severus took in a deep breath. This was going to be harder than he had first anticipated.

"I have watched you since you were a child, so I believe that I am fully aware of what you are capable of, Hermione," he began, his tone low. "I also know you have a tendency to take more on your plate than you first realize. I believe that you are forgetting that you are a teacher now and that your first job is to your students and to this school. Because this has escaped your attention does not mean that it will escape mine. Longbottom's parents are not your responsibility. Your responsibility is to the students. The sooner you realize that, the better off you and your sanity will be."

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees and the sensations in his spine intensified. Hermione's eyes were locked on his and his on hers. But he knew that he would not cave into her. He stood with his dignity and pride knowing that he would not bend to her wishes.

"You said many times that you were going to help me with anything I needed." The witch said, her tone now a bit quieter than before. "You said so yourself."

"There is more to potion making than you know of, Hermione."

"Severus," she touched the sleeve of his robe and he straightened his back so quickly that he feared for a moment it would snap. Her gaze softened greatly towards him and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Please."

She touched his hand and the bond was creating those unusual effects on his stomach and chest. He compared them to fluttering butterflies or the effect of drinking too much elf-made wine. Oh, Merlin…

"Please," she said again. She stepped closer to him and he fought the strange urge to run away from her. "This is…" she hesitated. "I know what it's like to have to have parents one moment and then the next they're gone. This is for Neville; as well as all of the other witches and wizards who have had family affected by this dreadful curse. I want to help him. And I… I need your help to in order to accomplish anything."

A surge of emotion rushed through him. It was unusual but also familiar. It almost felt like he felt sympathy towards her when she mentioned her parents. Did she lose her parents? He inwardly blamed it on the bond and he hardened his heart towards her. He couldn't bend to her will, even if part of him desired to.

"Are you doing this for Longbottom? Or for yourself?"

The witch's eyes that were so full of joy a few minutes before were replaced by blazed fury. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. Severus felt his stomach do an action akin to a somersault as she stepped up to him.

"So you're saying that you won't help me?" she spoke at last. Her voice was much lower than before, laced with anger.

"Precisely."

The wizard watched her as she stood frozen. She stood there, staring at him in disbelief.

"You said you would help me," she repeated herself. Her hands clenched into tight fists. "You're a liar, Severus Snape."

She spun around and left his office, slamming the door behind her.

"He's such an…. He's such an ARSE!"

Crookshanks leapt out of the way as a robe in the form of a ball came hurling through the air towards him. It hit the floor where he was once sitting and cleaning his paws.

It was unintentional, he knew this, but he wasn't quite sure what his master was doing. She just came into their new place of occupancy and started throwing her things around. He had always known his master was a bit strange; her tiny fits of anger that disturbed his moments of peace and her tedious habit of crying afterwards, but this… This was something new entirely.

Hermione didn't even notice Crooks staring at her.

All she knew was the unfurling anger and letdown that clung to her chest like heartache.

"Why is he so stubborn?" she demanded to the air around her. "Can't he see how important other people are? Can't he see that other people are hurting? Ugh! I'm not sure if I ever want to talk to that miserable oaf ever again!"

She stopped before taking another step forward and inhaled a calming breath. "There there, Hermione, calm down," she pressed a hand to her heart. "There's no need to throw a fit. Severus is just being a…" She let the breath out slowly. "Never mind the git. Let's just read a nice book and have some tea, before supper."

She Summoned her book – "The Hobbit" (Merlin, was she ever going to be able to finish it?) and plopped down on the fluffy red sofa. She would calm down after reading for a bit. However, she wasn't sure if she was going to be sitting by Severus for dinner tonight, or any other night.

Severus expected her to be angry. She was always a spitfire and he was certain she always would be. But he didn't expect her to trade seats with Poppy so that she wouldn't have to sit next to him. He overheard her excuse ("So that I could chat with Hagrid and Neville!") but he knew the truth. She was so furious with him that she wouldn't even acknowledge his presence.

There she was, far across the table, laughing and joking with Longbottom as if he were the funniest creature to ever walk amongst man. She was smiling, her cheeks pink and her eyes twinkling.

What was it about Longbottom that made her so enamored with him? Why was she suddenly so interested in helping him and his parents? Was she trying to gain favor? Hermione was a people-pleaser, he knew that much, but he could not understand why she had suddenly chosen Longbottom. What was it about Longbottom that suddenly made him so humorous, so hilarious? He personally found the boy to be quiet, dull, and a bit of a dunderhead. How could he make Hermione laugh like that? In his opinion, the very thought was unthought-of.

Something inside him became uncomfortable, compressing and snaking his insides. It was not an unfamiliar sensation but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Was it perhaps anger, as well, that Hermione had moved away from him? Was it a shock that, to Hermione, Longbottom was suddenly the most amusing person at the table? Was it not his job to make her laugh, to make her smile like that?

He couldn't pinpoint the exact emotion. It felt like something ugly was clawing at his stomach, making his stomach burn. All he knew was that it was a positively nasty emotion that made him want to cross over to the other side of the table and drag Hermione back to her seat, beside him, where he felt she belonged.

Severus blinked and shook his head. He didn't know where those thoughts had come from. These feelings of possession and jealousy were so rare that he wasn't quite sure he had ever felt them before. Was it because he and Hermione were friends and that he felt that he should be her only friend?

He fought the urge to scoff. Such thoughts were juvenile and foolish, but… He knew they were true. He wanted Hermione with him, at his side, even if it was just at this very table. Of course, he knew it was the bond's influence, but he couldn't help what he felt. One cannot deny what they feel, even if it seems wrong or impossible.

In a blink of an eye, supper was over and he saw her retreating back, leading the Gryffindor House to their Common Room. He watched as the curls bounced behind her as she swept away, out of the Great Hall.

It was then he knew that he might lose her. She might walk away now and he would never be able to get close to her again. She held grudges. He could not afford to have her bitter when his life and her magic were on the line…. And his sanity, might he add.

No. He decided stubbornly. I refuse to lose her.

He had arrived at her quarters in a knick of time. He was about to knock on the door when he hesitated.

Was he sure he thought this through? Would it be alright, with the bond and everything else going on, to have her alongside him all the time, creating potions?

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Was he doing this because he needed to or because a part of him wanted to?

It is both, he inwardly decided before giving the door three solid knocks. I will not regret it and she will be grateful.

There was no answer for over two or so minutes. He nearly turned around and left but the door swung open. He faced her and his heart sank. Instead of a smile, she greeted him with a scowl. Her arms already folded in front of her breasts, she was already defensive. She was still angry at him and she was going to let him have it.

"Listen, Severus," Oh yes. She was most definitely going to let him have it. "I've got a bone to pick with y-,"

"Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursday mornings."

"I—What?"

The raven-haired Potions Master almost smirked at the look on her face. Her eyes were wide in shock and her arms fell limp at her sides. He had caught her off guard. Resisting the urge to gloat, he calmly clasped his hands behind him, resting them on his lower back.

"I will assist you in creating your potion on those days only," he began, his voice even and to-the-point. "If you need the morning off, you will contact me via Patronus to let me know at least one hour ahead of time. You will arrive in my office at seven o'clock in the morning, no later than seven o'clock, do you understand?"

"I—What?"

Severus fought the urge to sigh. This is what hanging around Longbottom will do to her. It will make her stupid.

"You wanted to create a potion, yes?"

"Yes…"

"Then that's my one and only offer. No adjustments, no negotiations. Do you take it? Yes or no?"

In the blink of an eye, the Potions master was suddenly hurled backwards, barely balancing on his heels as the Charms professor jumped at him. He felt her arms twine around his neck, holding him in a tight embrace. Instinctively, his arms were around her body as well, holding her against him in case he were to topple over. When he caught his balance, he held her there with her feet off the ground. He stood there, frozen in shock, unable to do anything else but hold her there.

She was laughing now, her lips brushing against his ear. The warmth of her breath caused a shudder to ripple down his neck and all the way down his spine, magnifying the tingling of the bond.

"Thank you, you big git!" Hermione laughed merrily. "Thank you so, so much! You have no idea what this means to me!"

Severus hadn't heard her, though.

Everything in the world had come to a grinding halt. The universe, the stars, the Earth beneath his feet, even his own heartbeat – it all stopped. All he knew was what was happening in this moment in time. Hermione was holding him, embracing him. She pressed her body completely against his and clung to him as if her life depended on it.

What is happening to me? Severus panicked internally. Why is the bond doing this to me? My body is responding in a way I have never experienced before…

He had been with women before; prostitutes. He had spent countless nights with them so they could sate his sexual desires. But he had paid them well and they had done a good job for what they were paid for. But it never felt like this. No one had ever touched him this way before – to willingly express the need for intimacy – it was completely new and honestly, it was horrifying. He felt at a loss of what to do next. Should he pull away? He had no desire to. Should he stay like this? Would she reject him? His body and his mind were screaming two different things at him and the only thing he could do was stay still and hold her close.

He felt a hand play with the hairs on the back of his neck and his skin grew a little too warm for his taste. He fought against the urge to shove her away.

"Thank you…" her tone was lower now, barely a whisper. "Thank you for changing your mind."

His mouth became very wet and he had to swallow. He opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. There was nothing else to say. He gave his offer and she accepted – or, at least he assumed – his offer.

Why, then, were neither of them pulling away?

The back of his skull was humming the slightest bit louder the longer Severus held onto her, but he could not find it in him to pull away from her. He was being held for the first time since he can remember. It was terrifying, yes, but it was exhilarating at the same time. It was more than just a physical motion. It was everything that he had never received but what he had always secretly desired.

Acknowledgement. Acceptance. Forgiveness.

All in the form of an embrace by Hermione Granger.

"Severus?"

Severus nearly jolted when she said his name. "Yes?"

"This sounds a little odd…" she opened, treading calmly and carefully. "But tell me: Does this feel…. Odd, to you?"

"Very odd," he replied honestly as he rested his cheek against her hair. "Extremely, overbearingly, odd."

It was very odd indeed. He was not used to any sort of physical attention that was not purely sexual. And because of it, the bond was heightening his senses like no other. His brain was yelling at him to pull away and leave immediately. His body, however, indulged in the embrace, as it was what he had been craving for so, so long. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he feared that Hermione might hear it, too. He could only recall a few times his heart would ever beat this fast but never like this.

Her grip on him tightened and he instinctively tightened his grip on her as well. Without thinking, he pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled her scent. The perfume she was wearing earlier at breakfast still lingered and it filled his senses. It was nearly intoxicating to him and he feared for a moment that his knees would give out.

I have no desire to pull away but staying like this is… is…

His thoughts trailed off as Hermione pulled away from him. The smile from earlier in the day had returned to her lips.

"Thank you so much. I'll do my very best. I won't let you down."

The wizard quickly regained his dignified, solid composure. "I know you won't."

She gave him one last smile before disappearing into her quarters, closing the door behind her. Even though her warmth and her affections were gone, they still lingered, echoing in his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the image of Hermione in his mind. The bond was going to drive him insane. He let out a small noise of frustration before turning to go, his cape billowing behind him.

His heart rate slowly returned to its normal pace, but he knew that he would not become normal again. Hermione was starting something in him that he did not know if he could ever stop. Just earlier today, he had refused to assist her in her quest to make a potion. And not five minutes ago, he caved and gave her exactly what she wanted. She was overpowering him and she did not even notice.

Hermione Granger, hm?

As he strolled down the corridors towards the Dungeons, he thought of many things. He would have to contact Castor and report these symptoms of the bond immediately. He would then prepare his lessons for tomorrow. But first, he would mentally address something.

Now, it may have just been his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw Hermione blushing when she disappeared into her quarters.

END

(squee) Our first Snape/Hermione hug! Whoo! I know, it felt like it took FOREVER to get here. But you know what they say (or at least, what I say) After the first hug, the first kiss isn't too far away!

Or is it? Hmmm… :P

Something to think on until the next update… Or two… Who knows? :P Catch ya later!

SonicxAmyfan4Life

*Thank you, again FreeSpiritSeeker! *

Random fact of the day: I never saw Doctor Who (I started with the 2005 series) until two weeks ago…. Already ready to watch season 4 … WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Why am I always YEARS late on discovering the greatest series?