The air was cold and damp in the potions classroom. That was typical of this dank, familiar place, but Hermione's state made her more vulnerable to the chill. The room was silent except for the scratching of a quill, and Hermione swore she could hear the candles flickering. She could hear herself breathing, too. She had to remind herself to inhale and exhale like normal so as to not feel faint.

Professor Snape was seated behind his desk. Hermione didn't turn her head to see him because the sound of his writing served as her reminder that he was still there. She was close enough to smell him too, which helped her feel comfortable. She knew by now to trust him completely, and if she did, he would never leave her anything but satisfied.

It was getting late and her body was starting to ache. She wasn't sure how much longer she could remain bent over the front of his desk like this. Her face was getting warm on one side from being pressed against the lacquered oak for so long. Hermione took a steadying breath as she watched the wax drip and collect at the bottom of the candle he had lit upon her arrival. She shut her eyes and counted her breaths in her head. She had counted to 147 when the scratching of the quill finally stopped.

The potions master's chair scraped against the floor as he stood and the harsh sound made Hermione cringe. She heard him tap a stack of parchment together directly beside her head before he walked around to the front of the desk. Hermione didn't move.

Severus stood behind her for a moment, taking in the sight of her bare arse. Hermione heard him sigh before he squatted down to pull her knickers up from between her ankles. He took his time situating them before pulling up her stockings as well and he rubbed her behind affectionately before flipping her skirt down to cover her bottom.

"Alright, Professor Granger," he said in a quiet voice, so as not to shock her. "You may stand now." Hermione steadied her hand on top of the desk and stood slowly. She shut her eyes as a wave of dizziness and relief washed over her. When she turned around to face him, she leaned back against the desk and steadied herself. Snape stood mere inches from her body and he could smell the scent of sweat and vanilla in her hair.

"Would you like to sit down?" His voice was very close to her ear. She felt as if it the room was spinning and the only thing steady was him. She reached out to grab his forearm and nodded. Snape guided her to his desk chair and she sat down. He handed her his half-full glass of water so she could take a sip.

"Thank you," Hermione said meekly as she drank from his glass.

"How do you feel?" He took a sip himself when she passed the glass back to him before placing it back on the desk.

"Tired," she said as she leaned back in his chair and bent her leg back to rest the heel of her foot on the edge.

Professor Snape nodded and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I still have a few things to finish up here, but it shouldn't take more than an hour."

Hermione nodded her understanding and sat quietly. She was comfortable in his chair and in his space. She closed her eyes and listened as he began moving around the classroom; tucking in stools and tidying for several moments. Then he went into the storeroom behind her. She listened and knew precisely what he was doing. Snape always started at the top shelf and worked his way down when he took inventory and rotated ingredients. Every so often the sound of moving vials, baskets, and bottles was replaced by the scratching of his quill as he added a note to his log.

"Do you have extra eucalyptus back there?" Her voice was light and sweet and held a slight inflection at the end. It captured his attention immediately and he momentarily stopped his meticulous work to check. The scratching of his quill stilled and Hermione heard him pull out a basket.

"Yes," he replied. "Do you want trimmings or a bouquet for the bath?"

"A bouquet, please," she replied, and the silence returned. She knew with certainty that he was pulling out several stems and tying them together with twine. Then, inventory resumed.

When she waited for him like this, comfortable and content, it was completely different than how he made her stand over his desk earlier. This felt like coming down off of a cloud. This was for a determined amount of time, and she could leave without consequence if she really wanted too. This wasn't the time that she gave to him, this was time that she was with him, and marrying the two felt divine.

Hermione could tell that he was nearly finished because of the amount of time that had passed and the fact that things had stopped moving on the shelves. He had been writing in his log for several minutes. After taking inventory and determining what ingredients he needed, he always made a summary with plans for acquiring ingredients and a schedule for brewing, among other things. Hermione had seen the logs on several occasions and was always struck dumb by the amount of care and attention that he gave to everything he did. Once she heard the writing stop, she sat up properly in his chair and waited for him.

Now that the dizziness had gone away and she had rested, she was no longer tired and felt fully alert. She smiled when he came to stand before her with a bouquet of eucalyptus in his hand. The sleeves of his white Oxford shirt were rolled up and his collar was unbuttoned at the neck. It hung open slightly which gave him a casual presence that Hermione would have never thought he could pull off until she saw it. In this state, instead of looking like a prick, he simply looked comfortable.

When she had come to the classroom earlier in the evening, he had been fully dressed in his frock coat and cravat. Hermione wasn't sure when the shedding of his clothing had taken place, but if experience had taught her anything it was probably something that went unnoticed when she was bent over his desk for however long it had been. She much preferred him in this casual state, even though it meant she could see some of the scars that crisscrossed his body and the faded, muddled outline of the dark mark peeking from below the cuff on his left forearm.

"Are you ready to go?" His voice was gruff. Hermione nodded and when she stood he leaned over her to take his frock coat from the back of his chair. He tossed it over his arm.

Hermione followed him through to the back of the classroom. When they reached the door, he snuffed all the candles in the room at once with a flourish of wandless magic before holding it open for Hermione to pass through. Professor Snape fell into step beside her as they took the short walk towards his chambers

"Thank goodness it's Friday," she said.

"Why do you say that?" He asked even though he knew the answer fully.

"Oh, stop," she said with a chuckle, "you know exactly what I mean."

As they approached the door to his rooms, it opened wandlessly. He had no need to say the password out loud so Hermione did not know what it was.

"I don't know," he continued, "I've derived some of my greatest pleasure from taunting you and sneaking about during the week. Pain can be pleasure, too, you know that."

"Your pleasure is my pain," Hermione said humorously as they entered his sitting room.

Severus held out the bouquet of eucalyptus for her to take. "And your pain, my pleasure."