Sorry I haven't updated for a few days! My brother and I took an impromptu road trip to Destin, FL and New Orleans and I just didn't have the time. :P Here's Chapter 25! I hope you enjoy it! And if you do, Please Review!

"The documents you asked for," Severus growled as a heavy stack of paperwork landed hard on the Headmaster's desk. "Bought with the pain of a school girl." The old man smiled sadly.

"Come now, Severus," he said, "Don't be so dramatic. The payment is merely sexual intercourse. Whether or not it is painful is entirely up to you."

Ouch. His words sent a jolt of pain through Severus. They were too close to the truth. Not an hour ago, Granger had been beneath him; sobbing. He knew enough to be sure it was not physical pain that plagued her. There was something more. But Severus had never understood women. And so, as he watched the girl dress and run from his room in fits of hysterical sobs, he had merely allowed her to leave. Because he didn't know what else to do. How could he understand the problem if she wouldn't explain it to him?

He wished, now, that he had been gentler with her, rather than responding to her own angry thrusts with the same force and violence. He could have hurt her, but at the time that hadn't even occurred to him. She came, he remembered. Surely, it must be true that she enjoyed it in some respects.

And yet, it was just as obvious that something was wrong.

Over the next couple of weeks, Hermione withdrew even more into herself than she had before. She used homework as a shield from thoughts of Eileen, which plagued her day and night. It had taken all of her willpower to focus on classwork and resist the urge to look up Eileen. She was already obsessive about the woman, and that was bad enough.

She was aware that Professor Snape knew something was wrong, but she gave him no opportunity to ask about it. How could she possibly explain that she was upset because he had loved another woman years before she, herself, had even been born? It was ridiculous, even to her own ears. He would think me a complete fool.

But eventually, she was so far ahead in the readings, that classes were becoming boring, and she found herself daydreaming in class. Which was dangerous. In an effort to distract herself, she returned to her sanctuary in the library and used her spell to research Chaos. What she found was interesting enough, but she wasn't sure how it fit into everything she had been studying.

"Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future." explained one book on Chaos Theory. She had been surprised to find as many books about muggle sciences as she had in the last few days. This particular one went into depth about the intricacies of the theory, which Hermione found fascinating. But so far, she was unable to find any true connections to her other research.

And then, one day, as she was flipping through the Chaos Theory text, she found herself double-taking when she realized that a graph of the theory depicted the Infinity Symbol. Of course. She had completely forgotten about the original tie between the books she was studying. That tiny, underlying current linking them all together, even before she realized that they were all related: the little side-ways figure-eight that she had seen engraved in gold on so many of the volumes in her bedroom. And yet, she had never researched the topic itself. She still did not even know why that was the symbol for Infinity. But she was determined to research it first thing tomorrow. It was fitting, she thought. Tomorrow was her birthday, September 19th, and also the first trip to Hogsmeade.

Severus was loathe to play chaperone to the little monsters once again. But he had been meaning to visit Hogsmeade anyway, so it wasn't such a big sacrifice. He was no longer the Potions Master, but he still used the storeroom, so he meant to restock it for Horace; the old goat. And what better time to do that than when he was supposed to be supervising imbeciles?

In fact, he was on his way to the Apothecary when he first caught sight of the girl. She was alone, which he found odd. Usually, she stayed with her little friends on Hogsmeade trips. Ah, but they wouldn't have wanted to go with her into the bookstore. Which was where she was headed now. And which he was about to pass. And she hadn't even seen him. And she hadn't so much as said a word to him outside of class for two weeks. And, suddenly, Severus found his own path pivoted in the direction of the bookstore as well.

It was chilly out and the warmth of the bookstore was an immediate comfort as Severus stepped inside. The familiar jingling of the bell over the door seemed to lighten his spirits considerably and he looked around for a sign of her.

He found the girl wandering through an aisle of advanced theoretical texts. Not surprising. But at first, she was merely walking beside the bookshelf, running a hand over the queue of volumes. Rather than sneak up behind her, Severus slipped through the aisle ahead of hers and caught her at the end of her own.

"Good afternoon," he murmured in a neutral voice. She startled, catching his eye, and he could see the way her pupils dilated immediately, like a cat caught trespassing on another's territory. But her reaction was quickly concealed and her gaze turned to the books beside her.

"Good afternoon, Professor." She was pretending to skim the titles of the books before her, as if there was a particular one in mind. But he knew she was only hoping he would leave her in peace.

"Now's your chance to practice that spell in a different environment," he continued, idly. He was not accustomed to chit-chat, as it were, but he needed to speak with the girl. Something was wrong, and he wanted her to know she could speak to him about it. As it stood, however, she did not seem interested in talking to him at all.

"Perhaps," she replied. A surge of frustration swept through him as he looked down at her. A few strands of her curly hair blocked her eyes from his view, and it was all he could do to refrain from brushing them behind her ear, and tilting her face to his. She might as well have been on a different plane though she was close enough that he could smell her sweet shampoo. The scent wafted toward him, bringing a host of memories along with it, and he found himself reacting to it.

Just then, the Lovegood girl slipped past him and he was momentarily embarrassed to be caught staring at his student. "Happy birthday, Hermione," the blonde sang in that dreamy voice that always grated on Severus's nerves. A pang shot through him and he was completely taken aback. It's her birthday?

"Thank you, Luna," Granger replied, smiling at the other girl as she passed. When they were alone again, there was an awkward silence in which Severus debated a hundred different ways to wish her as well, before she whipped out her wand and filled the void with a muttered "Ostende verbum Infinity!" She began to drift down the aisle, but he refused to allow her that escape.

"Infinity, Granger?" he inquired in a teasing voice as he watched her step farther and farther away. He folded his arms in a gesture of bored amusement as she responded.

"Just something I've been researching," she responded. His brow furrowed as she reached the end of the aisle and began down the next. He stepped around the shelf to stand where he could watch her and block her exit in the same move.

"You have been studying a wide variety of strange subjects of late," he commented drily. She did not respond and he was beginning to feel rather foolish for trying to speak to her. "Is this some secret project, then?" She smiled slightly and looked up to catch his eye before immediately turning away from him. He could see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks and took that as a good sign; a sign that she still craved his attention, even if she pretended otherwise.

"It's no secret," she murmured, "and not exactly a project." He took a step toward her.

"Ah, then what is it? Exactly?" There was a pride in the twist of her lips as she smiled at the books before her, sweeping her wand across the shelf though he knew she looked with blind eyes.

"It's…" she seemed to consider, pulling a lip between her teeth and turning her eyes upwards. "It's just… It's more… I've been… I don't even know, to be honest. I feel like I'm being led down a path." She giggled at that. "Silly, isn't it?" Her eyes turned back up toward his, as if to see if he was mocking her. But he kept his face neutral and curious. She bit her lip. "It started over the summer when I ran out of books to read." He smirked at that. "I found a book on muggle Chaos Theory on my parents' bookshelf and began to read it. After that, all of the other books started falling into place, drawing me to them with their connections to what I had already read. I can't explain exactly, but I feel like they're important, somehow. I…" she hesitated, blushing even more, but her eyes were on him still, so he took it as a good sign. "I think I'm onto something."

She looked at him with such triumphant pride shining in those beautiful, cinnamon eyes that he had to fight the urge to sweep her into his arms and capture those pretty lips. She flushed at his blatant stare and turned back to the shelf. A heavy tension was beginning to fill the air and he might have said something to her if her wand didn't light up at that moment, pulling all of her attention immediately back to the books.

She withdrew a heavy, silver tome. Its cover was textured and sparkling and in the very center he could see the shape of a side-ways figure-eight carved into the thick material. The hunger in her eyes was something he had not seen in far too long. And he felt himself hardening. It had been a while since their last encounter, and he had been neglecting himself.

She lifted the cover to check the price and he watched her features fall into a deep disappointment. She closed the book and ran a hand over the engraving on the front before flipping it back open to study the price, as if it might have changed. He would do anything to see her smile return.

Then, suddenly, Potter and Weasley appeared at the other end of the aisle. "There you are!" the ginger idiot called as they started toward her. "We knew we'd find you here!" The boys gave Severus a suspicious look and he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Sorry," Granger replied. "I couldn't resist." He watched her replace the beautiful book with one last longing brush of her fingers down its spine, before turning back to himself. A tiny smile sufficed as farewell and she followed the boys from the store. For a long moment, he stood rooted to the spot, hating those idiot boys for taking her away, and wishing desperately for some way to bring her back.

"Come on, Hermione! It's not even a school night!" Ginny was saying. The redhead was determined to have Hermione celebrate her 18th properly, and that meant fire whiskey. Hermione was unsure. She had only been drunk once before, and that had been a complete disaster. "Come on! No presents until you've had at least one glass. Please? Pretty-pretty please?" Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh. They had all gathered in the boys' dorm and everyone was crowded around her, pressuring her to drink the amber liquid.

Apparently, she had missed a meeting with Fred and George at the Three Broomsticks and the Weasley twins had given the other boys a good load of contraband to sneak back into the school. She was appalled by their lack of respect for the rules, but didn't say anything. They had all heard it a million times before, and they weren't going to change now. In fact, as it turned out, she was far more likely to change her own mind.

"Alright, alright. But only a little and only tonight." A cheer went up around the bed as Ginny handed her friend a glass of the liquid fire. They each had a glass of their own, which they raised into the air as the redhead shouted a toast to Hermione's birthday. The whiskey was warm in her throat, waking her back up, forcing her to feel. It was wonderful and terrifying all at the same time. Because for the first time in two weeks, Hermione felt truly alive.

"Here, open mine first!" her beautiful friend insisted as she pushed a package into Hermione's hands. Hermione smiled at the girl, setting down her glass to untie the pretty bow. "Oh, just rip it!" Ginny cried, practically bouncing on the bed beside the other girl. Hermione grinned mischievously at her friend before ripping open the package. Black lace exploded from within and Hermione's eyes grew wide as the boys laughed uproariously and Ginny grinned at her. Heat filled her face as Ron grabbed for the bra and held it up to his own chest. It was made entirely of lace and she could see the red of his shirt showing through. Ginny smacked him over the head and demanded he return it, but not before Harry had snatched up the matching panties and held them out to inspect them.

"Bloody hell, Ginny!" Ron was saying. "What're you trying to do to Hermione!?"

"Every girl needs a bit of lace," Ginny said, reaching over to refill Hermione's glass as Harry returned the undergarments. Hermione ran her fingers over the delicate material, marveling in the fragile beauty of it. Would Professor Snape like this?

"Thank you, Ginny," she said sincerely. Harry's and Ron's gifts of sweets and inks and quills were then unwrapped and all of Hermione's gifts were placed in a bag from Honeydukes, safely out of the way of the rough-housing that whiskey apparently brought out in the boys. It was like nothing had happened. The warm haze of drunkenness and cheer made Hermione feel whole again. If only for a little while.

And she found herself drinking more and more of the rejuvenating drink, feeling less and less of the weight she had carried for so long. As if the stone on her back that Luna had spoken of was being lifted by the Spirits of the Bottle.

At one point, Ginny jumped Harry and everyone laughed hysterically as the two locked themselves inside the boy's four-poster bed. Ron turned pink with embarrassment and left the room, as if he couldn't stand to remain while his sister was in bed with his best friend. That left Hermione with the other boys and she realized that the party was effectively over. It made her sad, in a way; because she knew that she would not feel this carefree when she woke in the morning. And, probably, she would dream of Eileen again.

With her bag of gifts in one hand, and her glass of fire whiskey in the other, Hermione headed back to her own dorm. She realized, as she headed down the hallway toward the stairs, that sitting down and walking were completely different things. The alcohol had a much stronger effect on walking, for one. And she felt a bit confused. Had she just not noticed that, until now? There were the stairs. Were they always on this side? Oh, yes, because the girls' was the other way. But this was the boys' dorm. Now, she remembered.

She started down the steps and quickly realized that she needed to grip the railing. But the glass was in her right hand and the bannister was on her right side. And she couldn't very well do both with one hand. It took all of her concentration to switch her glass and bag, but a big gulp of the liquid made it easier not to spill it. Feeling rather proud of her foresight, she continued her descent to the Common Room.

She was heading toward the Portrait Hole when Ron called out to her. "Whereya goin'?" She whirled around in surprise, whiskey lopping over the edge and spilling across her hand. She was quick to suck it up before too much dripped onto the carpet.

"Ummm…" She thought hard. What had he asked her? She was in the Common Room. Right. Because… she was going to bed! "Bed," she answered, nodding in agreement with herself. I'm drunk, she realized. "Very, very drunk," she muttered. Ron was standing in front of her.

"You arright?" he slurred, reaching a hand out to steady her swaying body. His own balance was no better, however, and their combined swaying was far worse.

"Huh? Yeah," Hermione replied, meeting the boy's blue eyes. She realized that she hadn't actually looked him in the eye in a long time. "You have pretty eyes," she said. Pretty, but shallow. She could see their surface, but they didn't go deep. Like Snape's.

"You think so?" he was saying. She had to think about it. Unsure what he was replying to, she merely nodded. She must have thought so, or she wouldn't have said it. His face was inches from hers when she realized what he was doing and jerked away from him. He stumbled.

"Sorry!" she said. They were alone. Like last time. That disaster. What would Snape think? "I have to go." Without turning back around, she headed straight up to the girls' dorm and didn't stop until she reached her own four-poster bed. Setting her bag of presents on the nightstand, Hermione suddenly noticed another package in the middle of the mattress. She took a swig of the whiskey before slipping into her bed and closing the curtains.

There was no card; no note; no label to speak of. And for a moment, she was really puzzled. Then, a part of her dared to hope and she quickly shot it down. Severus Snape did not buy people birthday presents. Especially not bushy-haired, buck-toothed, scrawny, plain, know-it-all… She sipped her glass as she ripped at the paper with one hand. It was plain, brown package paper, perfectly wrapped as if by magic. Who else could it be? She bit her lip and took another swig as she lifted the package by a scrap of the paper and shook it, hoping the weight of the object would help rip the wrapping. When that proved futile, she drained her glass in two big gulps and set it on the floor beside the bed, almost toppling over in the process.

Finally, with two hands on the sturdy paper, she was able to pull it apart, revealing sparkling silver. She grinned at the pretty cover, admiring its intricate carvings as she traced a finger around the symbol in the middle. That damned side-ways figure-eight; the symbol for Infinity. It all seemed to hit her at once. He bought this for me. He had seen how much she wanted it. He had watched her put it back. And she knew it was expensive. But still, he had bought it for her. Blood was throbbing painfully through her chest as her heartbeat quickened and redoubled in strength. Perhaps he only wanted to make up for not knowing it was my birthday. Maybe… maybe he felt like he owed her something. Is he reimbursing me? For my services?

No. He had been so gentle. He had been trying to speak to her, she knew. He was concerned. Maybe he was trying to buy her happiness. Gods, Hermione, you're too cynical, she thought. This was a perfect gift, and expensive, and she had wanted it so badly. But he loves Eileen. Merlin, her mind was trying so hard to comprehend and her heart was feeling so many emotions at once. She wasn't sure if it was excitement or guilt or anger or hope. But her eyes filled with tears as she traced the little Infinity symbol. One thing was certain. He was reaching out to her. She leaned over the book, pulling at her hair in frustration. Why did everything always have to be so complicated? I have to talk to him.

The moment the idea occurred to her, Hermione latched onto it. She wanted to see him; had to see him. It had been so long since they had spoken and he was the only one who knew what she was going through. Well, except Dumbledore, but he didn't count. And now she had a reason.

She was practically to the door before the alcohol seemed to knock into her with renewed vigor and she staggered down the hall toward the stairs. It didn't matter. She trusted him. He would take care of her. She would be safe there.

It felt wonderfully scandalous for her to slip through the Portrait Hole at this hour and in this condition, but she relished the liberty of that small step. The world was at her feet and she was walking on air.

Until she practically fell down the stairs. Everything was so dark and so twisty and blurry and confusing. She found the Entrance Hall and headed toward the dungeons. Somewhere in her mind she wondered which Stage of Moral Development she was in making these decisions. Then she giggled at herself. Only Hermione Granger would be wondering that at a time like this.

She wandered the dungeons for a good fifteen minutes before she found the entrance to his quarters. Oh. She had probably passed it several times already. Without even thinking, she pulled open the portrait and stepped through. The surprise was all the way in the back of her mind, past the blurry confusion of his dark living room. But light shone through the open door to his bedroom and she headed toward it, finally feeling the excitement of her own dangerous behavior. Out of Darkness; Light, she thought as she stepped through the door. Out of Chaos; Love.

Snape didn't notice her. And why would he when he was quite busy at the moment, pumping a fist over his swollen erection. When the sight hit her with a punch of sudden fire to her core she gasped aloud and he bolted up in the bed, ripping the sheets over himself. "Granger!" he shouted angrily. "What the hell are you doing here!?" But Hermione said nothing. Her body was reacting with surprising strength. Fire raced across her skin and down her spine and pulsed low in her belly. She met his eyes with all the desire she felt and watched his anger fade to desperate need. Even from a distance, she could see the black of his eyes growing deeper and darker. Unless she was imagining it. And all she wanted in that instant was to be the center of his attention; to be the focus of that hunger. If only for a moment.

Slowly, without dropping her eyes from his, she pulled her t-shirt over her head. Her professor was frozen in place, as if he dared not move. But his eyes followed her hands as she unbuttoned the jeans she wore, slowly pushing them down her legs. When she glanced back up, he was watching her with a heated stare so intense that she thought she might melt. And as she reached behind her back to unhook her bra, his hand slipped down below the sheets, and she could see its slow movements through the thin fabric. The pulsing between her legs was so strong she thought she might explode. And if he felt anything nearly as intense, she didn't blame him one bit.

Her plain, white bra dropped to the floor and she belatedly wished she had worn the new, black one. Next time, she thought as she hooked her thumbs in her panties and began to tug them down. His lips were parted and she could see his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths as his hand moved faster beneath the sheets. Struck with sudden inspiration, she turned away, watching over her shoulder as she pulled the white garment over the soft swell of her little arse. She heard him groan as she leaned over, sliding the strip of fabric down her calves.

She stood back up, hesitating for a moment as the blood seemed to throb in her head. But before she could even turn, she felt him behind her. His hands gripped her waist and she could feel the tip of his erection against her skin. Moaning, her head dropped and she gripped the doorframe for support as a wave of desire nearly knocked her off her feet. His hands ran over her hips and she felt him press against her from behind as he held her firmly in place. Then his hands wrapped around, snaking up to grasp her breasts and she whimpered as pulses of fire erupted between her legs.

"Please," she moaned. And his mouth met her shoulder. The softness of his mouth was at odds with the forceful way he pushed her legs apart and she thought she might explode when she felt him pressing inside of her. His groan was so primal and rough that tears sprang to her eyes from the pure force of his effect on her. He was moving slowly inside of her and it felt so wonderful. Then his hand was between her legs, rubbing against her and she cried out, on the brink of orgasm. He growled in response and pounded hard into her a few times before yanking away.

She staggered at his sudden absence and turned in time for him to grab her wrist and lead her back to the bed. Through the haze, it swam before her; a mirage of bliss and paradise in the midst of her recent desert. He stretched out on his back and she quickly climbed on top of him and pressed the length of her body against his as she met his mouth with a heady groan. For a moment, their tongues tangled in passionate warfare, before he suddenly pushed her away.

His eyes were wide with shock and she watched something like worry or hurt dawning across his face. "You're drunk." She looked down at him. He was messing this up.

"That doesn't matter," she said, trying to kiss him again. He pushed her off, pinning her shoulders to the mattress.

"Yes," he told her, "It does." She shook her head.

"Why should it? It's not like we haven't done it before." He pulled away from her and something seemed to crack inside of Hermione. "Please, Professor," she begged as tears formed in her eyes.

"No, Granger." His tone was final and his face was turned away from her. A hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but she could see that he was still aroused. Taking a risk, she reached out and took hold of him. "I said 'no,' Granger!" he shouted as he ripped her off of himself. His anger shook her and she was beginning to sober, feeling extremely foolish and even more hurt. She rolled onto her side and curled up, facing away from him. This had all gone so completely wrong. How had everything gone so terribly, horribly wrong? Everything always seemed to go wrong, she thought, and sadness welled up inside of her. And all the horrible thoughts she'd been suppressing all week came flooding back.

"I knew it," she whimpered through the tears. It felt like giving up. "I'm not the one you want."

"What?" His tone was biting and she flinched away from him. Pinching her eyes closed could not stop the tears for long.

"You weren't thinking about me," she muttered. As much as the drunkenness had heightened her excitement, it now exaggerated her devastation. "You were thinking of her." There was a long pause in which only Hermione's sobs were audible.

"Who?" he asked finally. And his voice was so gentle that she burst into tears again. Oh how she wanted that gentleness for herself. Then anger rose up inside of her.

"Who do you think?" she cried. "How many different women could it possibly be? How many women did you risk your life for? And betray your Master for?" Once she had said it, she wished she could take it back. She was being pathetic and needy and he was going to think her a complete fool and she wouldn't have anyone to blame but herself and the bloody fire whiskey.

When her professor spoke, his voice was quiet and broken. "You know about Lily?" he said. She nodded even as the name registered. It was a strange nickname for Eileen, she thought, but then again if she had been named Eileen, she would have gone by something else too. His hand touched her shoulder and she cringed away from him, suddenly feeling like a trespasser in his bed. She tried to rise to leave, but he stopped her and brushed her curls behind her ear. The gesture sent another cascade of tears down her cheeks and she tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let go. "Hermione," he began again, and his use of her name, more than the force of his hand under her chin, brought her face to his. "That was a very long time ago."

But he hadn't said that she was wrong. He hadn't said that he didn't love her anymore or that he hadn't been thinking about her. And Hermione pulled away. This time, he let her. She felt so foolish for asking him. If he hadn't already realized that she loved him, he was certain to figure it out soon. And he would feel guilty for leading her on, even though it was never supposed to be like that at all. This was just business. This was just for the Greater Cause.

Hermione was dreadfully sober now and she dried her aching eyes on the sheets, failing to suppress one last sob as she slipped out of the bed. He stayed where he was, looking down at the mattress as she collected her clothes and pulled them on. "Forgive me," she said finally. "I didn't realize how much the alcohol had affected me." She had said the same thing last time and idly wondered if he remembered that. "Anyway, really, I just… wanted to thank you. For the book. And everything." She gave him a weak smile as his unreadable gaze met hers. "Goodnight, Professor." She began to turn, refusing to give in to the urge to cry again.

"Wait," he called and she immediately turned back to him. He hesitated a moment. "You should use the Floo," he said finally, and she nodded and turned to do just that. When she stepped out, into the Gryffindor Common Room once again, totally sober and utterly alone, everything seemed to crash down on her at once. And when she was safely ensconced inside her four-poster bed, she curled up into a ball, and wept into the sheets.

Happy Birthday, she thought.

:}

Sorry guys! Hope you weren't expecting a happily ever after just yet, right? But…. What did you think of that?