Title: Of Peaches and Blood

Author: Magical Me

Summary: Towards the end of her seventh year, Hermione Granger makes two unexpected discoveries – a vaccine for an unforgivable and love for a man who is as deep as he is dark.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is the property of the brilliant JK Rowling – everything else is mine.

A/N: I finally got around to writing chapter two. The interim was spent in California, which was possibly the worst trip I have ever taken. I actually went for my sister's graduation (who, by the way, is a proud graduate of Stanford's class of '03 – haha). Spending time with her was the only good portion. Everything else felt so lost and lonely. Everyone has changed, but I guess I have too. It sucked because everyone was being so insensitive! The first thing they say to me is "WOW! You've gained weight!" Christ. I was so sensitive about that whole issue and then they all go and rub it in. Just peachy. Anyway, here you go.

~*~

Chapter 2

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she found a small hand-written note on her bedside table.

Miss Granger –

Professor Snape has fully recovered last night's experimentation. I must ask you, however, not to inflict the curse on a human subject until further notice. I trust you understand why. Regardless of such, Professor Snape wishes to continue with the lesser work this evening promptly after supper. Please take caution. Good luck.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

"Great," she muttered under her breath. "Snape after dinner – just wonderful."

~*~

"Don't bother her!" Ginny hissed, watching as Ron looked eagerly at the portrait that guarded the entrance into the Head Girl's room directly from the Gryffindor common room.

"Yeah, Ron. Gin's right. She didn't look too pleased about what you said to her yesterday," Harry agreed.

"Ugh. You two ruin everything. And anyway, it might be nice to get a surprise, wouldn't it?" Ron persisted.

Ginny snorted. "Not from you."

"Oh stuff it!" he cried. "I'm through with this." He flopped exasperatedly onto the couch.

"But really, what do you suppose was going on yesterday? And with Snape, of all people!" Harry wondered.

Ginny shrugged. "It isn't any of our business, now is it? If Hermione is ready to tell us, she will. But for now, I advise you not to go snooping around," she warned.

"Yeah, yeah."

But secretly, Ron had become suspicious and he intended to find out what was going on.

~*~

It was a bright and sunny Saturday morning. Hermione wistfully looked out the window at the large courtyard wishing she could study outside.

If only it weren't a scorcher out.

Oh well.

Feeling nostalgic, she walked briskly into the library. She returned Madame Pince's warm smile with one of her own, and quickly headed straight for the back into the Restricted Section.

From the corner of his eye, a young man watched her, amused.

Restricted Section, eh? Good girl, Hermione.

He was seated at one of the more veiled tables in the fiction side of the library, a place he figured Hermione wouldn't see him.

Hermione, being wrapped up in her own world, barely noticed the moving flaming red in front of her face.

She shrieked.

"Ron!" she scolded. "What on earth are you doing here? And don't say homework," she added as an afterthought.

Ron blushed a brilliant red. "Erm – I came to see you, Hermione."

"Whatever for!" She looked at her wristwatch. "We've got only twenty-five minutes until lunch. Unless this is some sort of an emergency, then clearly it could have waited!"

Emergency, huh?

But how am I supposed to kill her whereabouts and the issue of Snape with one stone?

"Um, I need your help."

She looked at him expectantly. "With?"

"My Potions paper," he declared triumphantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That paper is not due for another three weeks. Of course I've finished it, but you've got to be joking if you think that I'm about to believe you want to start on it now."

Oh. Right.

"Gotcha. Maybe some other time?" he asked.

She continued to thumb through the dusty books along the shelf. "I suppose so."

Boys.

~*~

"You did what ?" Ginny Weasley screeched.

Her brother shrugged and looked into his stew thoughtfully. "I went to see her in the library – no big deal."

Lavender Brown, who had a keen interest in everyone else's business, leaned over. "Stalker!" she squealed in delight. "Ooh! Wait'll I tell Parvati!"

Harry snorted and took another swig of his pumpkin juice.

"Ronald Weasley, I am very disappointed in you. Regardless of how concerned you are you need to give the girl space! Do I make myself clear?"

She sounds exactly like Mum.

"Crystal," he answered dryly.

Neville put his head in the conversation. "Er – hate to burst your bubble, guys, but here comes Hermione."

The Head Girl looked flushed.

Everyone is staring because…?

"Hi, Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed. "Have a seat, will you?"

Hm.

"That's why I came here in the first place," she said suspiciously, sitting next to Harry who seemed distant enough to be sane. "What's going on?" she whispered to him.

"Ginny went off on Ron for having followed you into the library. They had a small row about how you need your space and stuff," he explained quietly.

She rolled her eyes. "They're all carrying this a bit too far, don't you think?" Hungrily, Hermione dug into her lunch.

"A bit, yeah."

Good to know someone's still normal.

~*~

Hermione had quite the tuck-in at lunch and was in no mood for dinner. She absently wondered whether or not Snape would mind seeing her a half-hour prior to the scheduled time. Supposing he had a visitor?

She snorted softly.

Not bloody likely.

But what if someone saw her wandering about the Slytherin dungeons? No, that wasn't possible – everyone would be at dinner, and the only other person to watch out for was exactly who she wanted to see.

Hermione decided to pay Snape an early visit.

~*~

Snape cradled his pounding head in his hands, elbows placed firmly on his desk. His long fingers rubbed his temples in a circular motion as he closed his eyes.

Peace at last. No disgustingly nosy Pomfrey, and the Headmaster has decided to give me a bit of privacy – minutes of which there are precious few. Unfortunately, the Gryffindor brain is due to arrive within the next twenty minutes.

Damn.

A knock came at the door.

Bloody hell.

"Who is it?" he snapped.

"Erm – Professor, it's me."

Granger.

"Do you need a watch, Miss Granger? Perhaps then you will realize that you are far too early for our appointment."

"I realize that, sir. I didn't think you'd mind or that--"

Reluctantly, Snape stood up and crossed the room, flinging the door open to a bemused Hermione.

"Or what, Miss Granger?"

She closed her mouth.

"Nothing, sir."

"Surely you can finish your sentence." His eyes narrowed.

"Erm – I just wasn't so sure you'd be doing much else, sir – that's all."

Brat.

"I see. Well, come in, already. The sooner you begin to waste my time, the sooner it will end." He motioned her inside.

As soon as she entered the classroom, Hermione subconsciously sat in the same seat she had the night before just as Snape sat himself back into his desk.

"Begin."

"With---?"

"Your questioning, you foolish girl!" he sneered. "Don't you want to hear about what happened to your awful Potions professor last night?"

Whoa.

"I thought you already told me," she said honestly.

"Excuse me?"

Growing more confidence, Hermione cleared her throat. "Sir, you told me that something in the potion caused you to black out, but that initially you did not feel any of the pain inflicted."

He rolled his eyes. "Quite. But as every good scientist knows, details are crucial, and I expect no less from you. So begin."

She reached into her knapsack and pulled out a sugar quill, an inkbottle, and several rolls of parchment. "What did you feel as soon as you drank the potion before the curse was cast?"

"My tongue went through hell, if that's what you are looking for, Miss Granger."

Hermione laughed.

Snape has humor.

Hastily, she scribbled his words down. "Now, did your body undergo any changes at that point?"

"None that I felt," he admitted.

"That's bad."

Intrigued, Snape queried, "How so?"

"Simply because the drinker should know what's coming next. We need to put something in the potion to make his or her body aware of the fact that the potion is about to begin working. Somewhat of a warning, I suppose one could surmise. So in the event that the potion fails," – here she winced – "they would be aware."

He snorted in amusement. "Aware of the fact that they're about to die of pain, Miss Granger?"

She smiled wryly. "Something like that."

"Charming."

Hermione cleared her throat. "How did you feel once the curse was cast?"

"The same, albeit the extreme dizziness and lack of vision."

"But otherwise no pain?"

"No."

"Was your dizziness painful?"

"Excuse me?"

"Er – dumb question – just disregard that."

"I plan on it."

The minutes ticked by as they went through the process of question and answer as well as hypothesizing. They came up with a list of potential ingredients to be either added or dismissed from the potion. During their break, Snape summoned up tea. They sat in the chairs nearest to the fireplace.

"Sugar and cream, Miss Granger?"

"Both, please."

Carefully, he passed her the mug. Noticing his empty hands, Hermione asked, "Won't you be having any, Professor?"

In response to her question, another mug zoomed out of the fireplace and into his clasped hands. "I much prefer coffee."

"Just black? No sugar, even?"

"No." He shook his head. "I believe this is what the Muggles would call straight up."

She laughed. "Yes – yes, it is."

Snape swallowed the unflavored liquid and held the sip in his mouth, savoring its bitterness.

"Malato," she muttered.

"How so?"

"What?" She slowly sipped from her cup.

"Perché è malato?"

Hermione was caught completely off guard and nearly spit out her tea. "Excuse me?"

Snape smirked. "I was under the impression that you spoke Italian, Miss Granger. What is it about my question you find so perplexing? I simply asked why you find it 'sick', as you put it. Clearly you do not have a full grasp of the language."

Oh dear.

"Not the question, sir – merely the fact that you speak Italian at all came as a surprise," she confessed.

"Then how, pray tell, would I have been able to recognize your password the evening before last?"

Oh…right.

"I had forgotten about that."

"Filthy blood is quite an unsuitable password for someone of your stature."

She snorted and raised the mug to her lips. "What do you know?" she mused softly.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Just the fact that you obviously don't know anything about me," Hermione retorted.

He quieted, and then gulped some more coffee. "I wouldn't say that."

What?

"Oh?"

"I know that you are Hermione Granger, a seventh year and Head Girl of Hogwarts. Since the day that you first appeared in my class, you have been nothing but an insufferable know-it-all who enjoys torturing her teachers as well as peers by exerting her bookish knowledge upon them. You are friends with Misters Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, whose mischievous minds put your safety in peril, not to mention your reputation. Towards the end of each school year, your dunderhead friends and yourself enjoy meddling in affairs with the Dark Lord or else dangerous criminals who have escaped from Wizarding prison and feel as though it is your duty to save the world with your Gryffindor heroism. Need I continue?" he asked smugly.

"If you think that is an adequate description, Professor, you are sadly mistaken," she said quietly.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Naturally my knowledge doesn't include your Muggle life, Italian grandmothers and such, but you can't expect it to."

"Gran isn't Italian. She just settled in Florence for early retirement," Hermione said angrily.

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "Florence? And you say she's a Muggle?"

"As Muggle-English as they come."

"Well, your grandmother is living in one of Europe's biggest Wizarding hubbubs," he informed her acerbically.

"I very much doubt she knows," she retorted.

"Is she informed of your being a witch?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "The only family members who know are my parents."

"Ah."

"Now," Snape began. He lightly brushed his hands on the napkin next to him and stood. "If you've finished your incessant chatter, we may as well continue."

Hermione gritted her teeth.

We'll see about this.

A/N: Yay! Hope this is going well. Review, please – add as much constructive criticism as possible.