Obligatory disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story (no, I won't be creating any originals), I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves *pets Severus*

What Is, And What Should Never Be

Chapter Five

Hermione arrived in the common room completely out of breath, doubling over from the pain of a searing stitch in her side. Harry and Ron, who were sitting in a corner doing some homework, looked up at her in surprise. Ron quickly reverted his attention back to his homework, but Harry stood up and walked over to her.

'What's wrong with you?' he asked.

'Ran… whole way…' wheezed Hermione in reply.

'Why?'

Good question, she thought. Somehow she didn't think kissing the teacher would be an appropriate alibi to give him. 'Didn't want to… be late…' Hermione lied, finally starting to get her breath back.

'It's only quarter past seven.'

'Damn watch must've stopped…' she shrugged. 'Well, I'm pretty tired. I'm going to have a shower and turn in for the night. Good night.' Without waiting for a response, she darted up the stairs to her room, which was thankfully empty. She needed to think, but her thoughts were racing so fast that she could catch one to ponder. She wondered if a hot shower would help her settle down, both mentally and physically – she had been shaking ever since… the incident.

The water in the bathroom adjacent to Hermione's room always ran too hot. It nearly scalded her as she stepped into the shower, but she didn't notice. Her nerves calmed the second the water hit her skin. The water cascading down her body eased her mind and cleansed the feeling of dirtiness she had felt. Her thoughts left what had happened that evening and she relaxed, apparently for quite a while, as when she came back to reality there were angry knocks at the door.

'Oi! You've been in there for ages! C'mon, some of us need to shower too!'

'Sorry!' Hermione called, quickly jumping out and wrapping herself in a towel. Lavender Brown was waiting outside the door, arms folded and wearing a rather foul expression.

'I don't expect you'll need to shower for another week after that,' Lavender remarked.

'Sorry… just lost track of time,' replied Hermione, quickly bustling into her room to pull on her pyjamas. A glance at her watch told her she'd been in the shower for nearly an hour, which was also evident by looking at her prune-like hands and feet. She didn't feel like going downstairs to deal with Ron, so she climbed into bed and pulled out the book on Muggle misconceptions of Ancient Runes. She struggled through the first page, desperately trying not to let her mind wander, and eventually succumbed to the temptations of sleep.

***

The orange waters ran rapid, crashing against the sides of the river and breaking into white foam.

Odd colour for water…

She ran, naked, along the bank, searching for something. A midnight raven stood in her path. She slowed. A white dove lay, it's neck snapped, it's eyes gauged.

Killed an innocent creature…

The raven laid his head on the dove's wing. An opalescent tear fell from its eye.

Never seen a bird cry…

There would be no more Potions classes until Friday, and for this Hermione supposed she ought to be relieved. She spent the next evening in her room, searching in Potiones Ov The New Aeges for a new project, as her previous one would most certainly have to be abandoned. A few interesting ideas came up, but none so stimulating as the project she had set her heart on completing. She was halfway through the book when sleep washed over her once more, and she slipped into the same dream she had dreamt the previous night.

***

The dream made no sense to Hermione, but then again, that wasn't really her field of expertise. The morning classes of Arithmancy and Charms dragged on for an eternity, crawling up to the double block of Potions looming after lunch. Hermione found her mind wandering more often than she would have ever permitted herself to ordinarily. Snapshots of her dream flashed through her head, as well as the wrenching reminiscence of his gentle lips. She hated herself for thinking about it so much, and mentally scolded herself for not paying attention to her work, but a feeling she had never felt before – of longing, wondering, and things she couldn't put her finger on – overwhelmed her each time. Lunch passed like a haze in shades of grey. Hermione buried her face in a book so others couldn't see her glazed, daydreaming face. She spilled chicken casserole down her front and on her book as the bell rang. Instead of fussing over the ruined pages, she hurriedly tried to scrub of the white stain, thinking only of what Snape might think if he saw it. She disgusted herself.

She avoided eye contact with Snape throughout the lesson. She and Neville worked on preparing the Feormian Elixir, used for intense cleaning. Snape hinted he would be setting at least one student to work to prove it's potency. Hermione forbid herself to daydream in this class, for she knew what disasters could occur when she did so around a cauldron. The frothing, pearl potion appeared just as the notes said it should, and even Snape, when evaluation came, couldn't find an insult to throw at Neville. As a form of retribution for this, he gave Draco Malfoy perfect, even though his purple potion appeared to be evaporating at a very rapid pace. Finally, the last bell rang. The students packed their things and sat patiently for Snape to dismiss them (knowing all to well the reaction they would get for leaving without permission).

'You will write a paragraph on the uses of this potion for Monday. Class dismissed.' The usual bustle began – everyone was eager to leave the dungeons. Amidst the chatter, Snape called to Hermione's back 'A word if you will, Granger, about your project.'

Her heart beat fast. Harry turned around and looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. 'I'll wait for you, shall I?'

'No,' Hermione said quickly. 'It's okay. I'll meet you in the Dining Hall. I think Ron's waiting for you.'

'If you say so.' She waited until she could no longer see him before she went into Snape's office. He was standing behind his desk, looking exceptionally nervous and fidgety – an appearance most odd for someone normally so imposing. He looked up directly at her. Taking a deep breath, he spoke immediately.

'What happened the other evening was inexcusable. It is absolutely inappropriate for that to happen between a student and a teacher, and I am sure you are well aware that it would be advisable to never speak of it again.' The expression on his face was hard to read. It seemed to Hermione as if he didn't believe what he was saying.

'Yes, sir.'

'I was completely out of line to ever bring you into something like that.'

'It was my fault too, sir,' Hermione mumbled.

'So, we both know how wrong it was…'

'Absolutely.'

His face changed. 'And I say it over and over in my head… and yet, as wrong as I know it was… all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you again.'

Hermione's breath caught in her chest. She raised her head and met his eyes.

'Me too.'

***

Yep yep, I think here's a good enough place to leave off, don't you?