A/N: I wasn't quite sure how to proceed with this chapter at first; even the title went through four or five changes. The title I landed on is actually from Disney's Aladdin; Genie speaking to Aladdin about wooing Jasmine. As Hermione is so prone to over-thinking I went with that first. Hope you enjoy her mental spiral.

Oh and this chapter is the beginning of Hermione's citrusy existence.

Chapter 4 – Pick a Feature

The confidence with which Hermione had marched toward and entered the Shrieking Shack died a little as she approached the rickety internal door that would lead to... my Severus Snape? She stood stock still, taking deep breaths, steeling herself, to see the man she would one day fall in love with, the man she was already in love with if her future self was to be believed. How on earth is that going to happen? How does one seduce Severus Snape?

It felt like she stood in that corridor for more than an hour but it was honestly no more than five minutes and it's amazing what a mind like that of Hermione Granger can come up with in five minutes.

Ok, falling in love with Severus Snape... how do I do that? No. How do I feel that? I really don't know that much about him but I know some things. He's…what is he?

Her mind went completely blank for the first time in years. Unable to recall a single fact about her ex-professor on the other side of the barely-hinged driftwood door, Hermione fell back on old-reliable: logic.

Ok, Hermione… pick a feature. Hair? No, not going there; too many 'greasy' comments from Ron; not enough evidence until I can gently run my fingers through those liquid midnight shiny strands as I slide my tongue over that sneer, kissing it right off his…'Woah, where did that come from?' Definitely not hair.

Lips? Mouth? Tongue? She felt something flutter in her belly as her mind hit the word 'tongue' but it was overwritten by… acerbic, sneering, smirking, so capable of spiteful, hurtful words. Kissable?

This is getting me nowhere.

Right, maybe something less physical. Intelligence. The man is a genius at potions. Strong wand work…another twist in her stomach, what is that feeling? Like nerves but tighter, like anticipation and apprehension mated to create a knot in my stomach bigger than a dragon egg. I have a right to apprehensive, I have to seduce Snape, I have to sleep with Snape. Occasional fantasies of gaining house points from the Head of Slytherin House via oral means do not equal planning to actually do it. Although, it would be fun to see if I could actually make him shout '100 points to Gryffindor' as he comes. Hermione chuckled out loud. When did my mind get so… how do I keep imagining things like that? Why do I want them to be a reality? How do I make them a reality?

The Gryffindor witch stopped thinking and tried to pull herself together; more deep breaths.

Maybe I need to stop thinking about Snape and focus on myself. I'm a fucking Gryffindor; I CAN DO THIS! Ok, self-confidence pep-talk…

What am I getting so worked up over? It's not like I'm some sixteen year old virgin who doesn't know what she's doing. I'm nineteen. I'm of age in the magical and muggle worlds; I've slept with three, almost four people (if I count Ron), one of whom is Harry fucking Potter. I know what boys want.

But Severus Snape isn't a boy, he's a man. Do I know what a man wants? A man like Severus Snape. So brave, so self-sacrificing, so self-loathing. How do I get him over that? My future self seems to think desire will work. How? Is it really that powerful? What am I supposed to do, straddle him in my underwear till he wakes up? I might be a Gryffindor but even I don't have that kind of courage.

Hmmm, that voice though. That deep, penetrating baritone voice. So many potions classes with sopping knickers because of that voice; no matter what it was saying. I don't really care what he says as long as it's him speaking. And his use of language; he might use the less pleasant corners of language but at least he can speak knowledgeably, at least he's not afraid of saying something with more than two syllables… and that slow, almost creaking, lilt that drags those syllables out, like he's sweeping them directly over clit…

Hermione was starting to feel a little warm as she considered what the vocal chords of her ex-professor allowed to resonate from his acerbic mouth, and withering wit. She realised as she had allowed herself to become a little frenzied and aroused by her thoughts that this was the moment. She drew her wand and disabled her wards. Ready or not Severus Snape, here I come; three… two… one…

Hermione took one final deep breath, placed her hand on the greying wood before her and pushed.

The room, more greying wood, everywhere, looked very much unchanged; Snape had obviously picked up his wand, it was no longer on the rug; she could see him in her peripheral vision lying on the bed but she daren't look yet. It wasn't very warm, despite it being May; if he's unconscious, even if he's just in a deep sleep he needs to stay warm.

If I make a fire, the smoke will alert someone to our presence. I'm not ready for that yet; he's certainly not ready for it. There's only one thing I can use for that kind of protection…

Hermione retreated into the corridor, walked quickly to the front door and drew her wand, placing the tip on the slab of driftwood that covered the entrance. She gathered her magic through her body, let it pulse in every molecule of her being, she focused her mind on why she was doing this: protection, fortitude, healing, love and let it flow through her like lava, shifting and swirling, powerful and necessary.

"Fidelium Maxima"

White heat swept through her and channelled its way out of the wand in Hermione's hand. It encased the door, which shook before travelling over the rest of the broken down dwelling, coating the walls, the floors, the ceilings, every dusty nook and cobwebbed cranny in enchanted concealment. Hermione Granger was a secret keeper and as she looked back toward the room where a sleeping Severus Snape lay, all hers, warmth crept through her abdomen, moisture trickled between her legs and she realised… I have more than one secret.

Feeling more confident, reminding herself that her body certainly found him very attractive even if her mind was still catching up on the extent of the attraction, Hermione returned to the main room of the shack and walked directly to the transfigured bed. She didn't quite look at him yet…; instead, she turned to the raggedy rug on the floor, flicked her wand at it to hold it against the wall at the end of the bed and transfigured it into a fireplace. Another flick conjured a dozen logs into the cavernous pit at the centre of the hearth and a third flick set them ablaze. Finally, with the dragon-egg sized knot still present in her churning stomach, she looked at the man whose life she had saved, the man who would become her lover, eventually.

Hermione's jaw hit the floor; at least that's what it felt like.

The man before her barely looked like Severus Snape at all. He looked younger; not in an anti-aging potion way or even in the way some men do when they dye their hair and have their first botox injection. The transformation of the dour potions professor was subtle, refined, delicate. Her fingers slowly moved toward his face, gently tracing the angle of each cheekbone, the defined ridge of his jawline, gliding her thumb over his forehead, skimming the top of his thick, narrow black eyebrows, so often raised in question when he sneered. She noticed the smoothness of his skin; until a few hours ago he had appeared as a man at least ten years older than his thirty-eight years, crow's feet scratching at the corners of his eyes, pores puckering with age and exposure to potions.

Now, his face seemed light, vibrant, relaxed, exuberant. His features hadn't changed exactly, it seemed like they'd removed the war from his face, removed the years of fear, torment and being beholden to two masters. His face was completely free of the burden that was Tom Riddle. Free? Yes, that's exactly the right word - free of Voldermort. What if…?

Hermione snatched her hand away from his face faster than the speed of light and dived, with both hands, over his body, toward his left arm… now Voldermort was dead, finally, she wanted to see the state of the Dark Mark; needed to see if… maybe… just maybe…

She fumbled with the cuff at his wrist.

"So many bloody buttons." Hermione cursed the tight black fabric of his sleeve and his penchant for damn buttons before looking at him. "You really need a new wardrobe, you know that!"

She went back to her task, knowing she could use magic but as the first button finally slipped free of its fastening she knew doing it by hand was the right choice; just knowing she'd killed off some of these blasted buttons was feeling very satisfying.

Frustration getting the better of her after a few minutes and only two more buttons undone – surely he's bloody charmed them - she grasped each corner of the two inches of loose fabric and yanked with all her might. The stiff, black fabric tore between her hands and buttons popped off in a myriad of directions.

"Yes!" Hermione almost jumped off the bed with joy and satisfaction as she pumped her fist into the air and exclaimed, at no-one. It's not like he was listening. She shoved the fabric up his forearm and gasped before once again, her mouth felt like it had hit the floor.

All that lay before her questing eyes and examining fingers was smooth, pale skin; the 'Dark Mark' tattoo which she knew should travel from elbow to wrist was simply not present on his inner forearm; there was no scar, no ink, no abrasion of any kind. Just a wide canvas of soft epidermis covering, not bulging muscles but certainly a well-defined shape and framed either side by a dusting of coarse black body hair.

Hermione's finger stroked up and down the length of his forearm a few times, revelling in being able to be this close to him; relishing his lack of resistance; I wonder what else I could touch… No! Bad Hermione. Focus. More important things.

"It's gone, Professor." She whispered to him as she continued to stroke his arm.

The appendage stiffened under her ministrations and Hermione froze. It's too soon. I'm not ready. Don't wake up yet. Pleeeease.

"Ssshhh, Professor." She continued whispering; removing her fingers in infinitesimal movements. "Ssssh, it's ok. You're safe."

He settled. Well at least I soothe him while he's asleep. That's a good sign, right?

After almost thirty minutes of staying very still, attempting to not disturb the sleeping Severus Snape, Hermione had a new motto for Hogwarts: 'Dormiens nunquam titillandus Snape', never tickle a sleeping Snape. It wasn't as catchy as the original but certainly more accurate to her current predicament.

She looked around, trying to find something to do; she couldn't leave but she couldn't sit here stationary either. The place was filthy, so far below her standards that she didn't dare think what Snape would think of the place once he was awake, alert and sneering. I'll clean, that should kill some time. Although, apparently I've got days to wait until he wakes up. I wonder how many.

Hermione stood, carefully. It was more of a wrench than she thought it would be to move away from him; it felt like she was leaving him vulnerable in some way; paying less attention but she fortified her resolve. I can't just sit here waiting, I'll go mad. I'll starve. I'll pee myself.

Four hours, three brief apparition trips and a quick patronus conversation with Harry later, the Shrieking Shack was unrecognisable. She had grabbed a handful of pebbles – maybe thirty – to transfigure into all manner of things, candles, dish clothes, polish, toilet roll, plates, cutlery. She'd cleared the dust and cobwebs with magic and then given the entire place a good scrub before finally casting a 'scourgefy' on her clothes.

She checked on Snape; he was still blissfully in the land of nod, recovering. He looked so peaceful, his face was relaxed, his eyes lightly closed; there were no painful emotions on his face, no hateful ones, just a state of nothingness. She closed her own eyes as an idea bubbled to the surface of her mind; an idea she had to really think about. Kiss him, her mind urged. Love him, came the words of her future self. Surely a peck on the cheek would be ok? Within the realm of decency, if not completely appropriate. Just in case he has any awareness while he sleeps; just so he knows he's not alone, that he's being taken care of. Would he even know it's me?

Her breakdown of the idea and her incessant questioning of her own mind continued as her feet moved of their own accord from the fireplace where she had stood when this idea came to her, to right beside his bed. She sat beside him again and leaned over. I suppose I need to get used to the idea of doing more than kissing him; but this will do to start with. She said 'start small'. Can't get smaller than a peck on the cheek of a sleeping man.

Hermione leaned over Snape's face; I wonder if I'm looming, like he does, closed her eyes and placed a delicate, chaste kiss on his left cheek. He didn't move. Well, it's not like this is Sleeping Beauty, but she was still inexplicably disappointed.

She moved away and caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Ugh, what on earth is that?

Oh, sweet Merlin, it's me. This will never do.

She grabbed her beaded bag and wand and cast four accio's in quick succession: shampoo, bubble bath, soap and a sponge before heading to the bathroom; well, it wasn't really a bathroom but a toilet. She relieved herself, thankful for the fact that the shack had running water then flicked her wand at the toilet and turned it into a bathtub.

No taps, hmmmm. This is like living in the fucking dark ages.

She took a very deep, very calming –at least that's what she told herself – breath and pointed her wand at the tub.

"Aquamenti Calorus"

Hot water poured out of her wand and she tipped a generous amount of the bubble bath under the stream until the small WC room smelled wonderfully of lavender and peppermint and she couldn't see in front of her for the steam.

"Finite" she whispered to her wand and the water charm ceased.

After months on the run, a battle with a Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, saving half a dozen Order members, meeting the Founders of Hogwarts and her future self, not to mention playing Snape's guardian angel for half the day, she really need this bath. She didn't care that her Potions Professor was asleep in the next room, she didn't care that she was in the Shrieking Shack, neither did she care that she was about to bathe in a transfigured toilet. All she cared about as she stripped off her jeans, dusty pink hoodie and underwear was that there was hot, soothing water and bubbles and shampoo and relaxation only seconds away.

She stepped into the water and winced at the heat, I really need to work on that spell, but she didn't care enough to temper it as she sat down.

'Aaaaaaaah!' She thought as her mind let go of the tension of the war, of watching over Snape, of everything, except the feeling of his warm cheek under her lips. Hermione wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't warmth.

"Aaaaaaaah!" her throat mimicked the sound of her mind as she allowed the heat to seep into her tired, sore muscles; it felt wonderful, restorative, relaxing, arousing?

Sitting up from her reclining position, Hermione rubbed the smooth bar of soap into the sponge and began to glide it over her body, almost absent-mindedly washing in the process.… slowly, she caressed the curve of her neck, delicately slid the sponge across her collarbone, softly let her fingers guide the natural sponge between the valley of her breasts; sweeping it around and under each soft orb in a figure of eight. She halted the sponge as she realised her mind was wandering: pick a feature, it reminded her. The sponge was a little rough, almost like the imaginary callous feeling of her professor's… hands. She smiled with a new idea.

The sponge began its movement again, guided by her small, questing hands as she traversed it slowly, so slowly over each nipple, the cool air against her damp skin, combining with the images of Snape's large, calloused, skilled hands, puckered each point; she gasped lightly at the sensation as her other hand travelled south. Laying herself back again into the sweet, freshly scented bubbles and hot, caressing water, she hummed her pleasure …

"Mmmmm", came the low sound of her delight, fingers inching further below the water, reaching over her pubic bone, slipping lower, searching, questing, slipping into the wet heat of her own arousal. She pictured her dark brooding professor, the man she would come to love, the man she would love to make her come; saw him kneeling before her as she lay spread open for him.

As she circled her nipples one after the other with the fingers of her left hand, brushing over each occasionally, pinching lightly before returning back to the other, her right hand was penetrating two fingers into the tight cavern where pooled the slick evidence of her most secret desires, thumb nudging at her clit.

In her mind, she saw Severus Snape, lower his face to her glistening folds and lay claim to her in the most intimate and carnal of ways, lapping at her with desperation and longing, passion even… worshipping at her most sinful altar. She focused on the imaginary feel of his hands, gliding along her sides and over her abdomen, holding her open as he breathed, hot and heavy on her exposed sex, grabbing her bum firmly and holding her immovable as he latched onto her clit and sucked it hard until she fell into oblivion as her own fingers left her inner sanctum and pinched at her clit; once… twice… three times and every tense moment of the last twenty-four hours, of the last year exploded. She let it all go, every emotion, every tear, every smile, every fear, anger, hatred and joy; she freed it all in the long, high, guttural scream of her release.

In a complete haze, boneless and in the outer space of post orgasmic bliss, she slumped below the bubbles, allowing the whole world to vanish for a moment before emerging. It felt like being reborn into the woman she would become, the woman she met outside the shack; the woman in love with Severus Snape.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione left the makeshift bathroom, fresh and clean, teeth brushed, deodorant and perfume applied, and a clean(ish) set of flannel pyjamas pulled from her ever-helpful, bag of everything she ever needed. She returned to Severus' side, he hadn't moved, thank Merlin. Not sure I could quite explain away getting myself off in the next room while he was asleep. But damn do I feel better.

"And as for you," she turned to the very still, very black-clad wizard, "you listen to me, Severus Snape; you are going to love me, I assure you that you have no choice in the matter because I refuse to allow you not to. But more importantly, and I hope you can hear this, I am going to love you like no-one has ever loved anyone before; there will be books written about the power of my love, our love; and if no-one else writes books about how much I want you, about how I survived fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement and saved your horrible little godson just for you, then I will write it myself. 'Of Sneers and Stalking in Billowing Robes', a love story by Hermione Granger. She chuckled.

I know you're going to try and push me away; you'll snipe, sneer and spew your venom, you'll insult me and belittle me and call me an insufferable little know-it-all; I don't care. You can throw as much of your poison at me as you like, and when you're done and when you're ready, I'll be waiting. Not for an apology because I know you need to get all that nasty shit out of your system. I'll be waiting to welcome you into my heart, into my arms, into my bed because there's something you still don't know… in my mind, and in my heart, you're already there."

She stood then. It was dark out and she was exhausted and hungry.

Digging around in her beaded bag, she pulled out a plastic container full of chocolate chip cookies; one of her apparition trips earlier, to the Burrow, had provided her with several containers of baked goods from the holy grail of baking that was Molly Weasley.

"No one should sleep in boots, Professor." She told him amusedly as she removed them and placed them on the floor under the edge of 'his side' of the bed. Hmmm, big feet. I wonder if that saying is true about big feet meaning big… stop it Hermione. You're better than that.

No I'm not, she thought a second later.

With a flick of her wand at the single bed, she extended it to double size before levitating Snape; lifting the duvet she gently floated him back down and threw the cover back over him.

Now, do I walk all the way around this huge bed in my very exhausted state or do I just climb over him to get to my side. Hmmmm, choices, choices.

She clambered up onto the bed, careful not to dig a knee anywhere sensitive and stopped halfway, pausing just for a moment as she straddled his hips, just to make the memory, before sidling over to her own side, pulling open the container of cookies as she dreamed up inspirations of what to do with him tomorrow.

Hermione Granger, for the first time but by no means the last time, fell asleep, in the Shrieking Shack, curled up to Severus Snape. Love of her life.

A/N: Well, there we have it. Hermione finally made it back to the shack. Lots of magic, a little fantasy and some fun in the toilet, erm… tub – lol.

Reviews, suggestions and favouriting welcome as always.

P.S. It's quite late as I finish writing this so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. I don't think there's many but I'll go back over it tomorrow and update if necessary.

Also, just a quick shout to one of my reviewers, 'Lucyole' for the adding *cookies for inspiration* to the review. I added the cookie into this chapter just for you.

Last thing to mention, I am considering writing a sister fic to this one as the book Hermione mentioned writing in this chapter: Of Sneers and Stalking in Billowing would blatantly Hermione gushing over Snape, admitting her crush from early on and attempting to convince him in written form that her feeling for him will over power any objection he could ever come up with. If this is something you, as my readers would like, please let know in the reviews.

Many thanks and happy reading x