Chapter 1 – Hints

Author: Rikka

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; I'm just playing with them for a short while.  I'll give them back, with a knowing smile on their faces, once I've finished with them.

A/N: It's not 'R' yet; but it will be soon.  My 1st attempt at fanfic.  Please let me know what you think!

In the beginning, Severus Snape was his usual self.  While he considered Hermione's project to be a promising one, and while he considered Miss. Granger to be an exceptionally bright student, he was not inclined to make either admission.  But after over a month of working together, in his room, Snape had slowly opened up.  Hermione's…no, Miss. Granger's, constant efforts at getting to know him, her constant optimism, were beginning to crack through his neutral and sometimes, if he was honest with himself, even snarky exterior.  He found himself starting to look forward to their time together.  Not only because it fascinated him to see her eyes brighten and her speech quicken every time she got another step closer to her goal, but because slowly, through their increasingly personal conversations, Severus Snape had gotten to know a student.  Not just any student, but young Potter's upstart know-it-all friend.  Though, thought Snape, she isn't so much of a know-it-all, as much as she is a want-to-know-it-all.

This leaves him where he is now, confused as to the amount of investment he feels towards Hermione.  Her research project, that is.

"Are you feeling all right?" Snape was pulled out of his revelry by a soft voice and concerned eyes.

"I'm fine."  He found himself snapping.  "You'd do well to pay attention to things which are your business.  Such as your potion--which looks about to boil over!"  Why am I suddenly so angry with the girl, he thought, seeing her confused and hurt face.  Biting her lower lip in the way that he knew always meant she was thinking hard, but would soon have plenty to say, Snape suddenly found that he was irrationally fearful.  Of what??

"I think you can finish these steps on your own.  I have some…things…to attend to in my office," he turned to leave the room, but was stopped by a delicate hand on his arm.  His heart raced, and his arm started tingling from the touch as he stared at her delicate fingers…

Jerking his arm away, a horrified look on his face, he muttered an "excuse me," and flew out of the room, robes flapping, leaving a very confused Hermione Granger standing with her arm outstretched.

After finishing her work for the day, Hermione went back to her room to think.  She was so lost in thought she didn't notice when dinner time came and went, nor did she notice when Harry and Ron came knocking on her door, concerned. 

The next day in Potions class, Hermione was still distracted, and much to the surprise of everyone in the class, especially Harry and Ron, she found herself losing twenty points from Gryffindor via clumsiness, not to mention the hush that fell over the class every time Snape lit into Hermione for something she had done.  By the end of class, she was ready to cry, Snape had a killer headache, Harry and Ron were thoroughly worried, and Draco Malfoy had a huge grin on his face. 

So Granger has a thing for Snape, he thought, grinning wickedly to himself as he walked to Crabbe and Goyle, putting his arm around the former.  "So guys…"

Before Harry or Ron could say anything to Hermione, she had burst from the classroom, and by the time they threw their notebooks into their bags and hurried to the hall, she was nowhere to be found.

"Blast," they said at the same time, not seeing Snape behind them.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he snapped, adding, "Stop loitering in the hall and get to wherever you need to be," before storming off.

"Was it just me, or did it seem like the stick up Snape's ass grew overnight?" Ron asked Harry.

"Grew?  You mean grew thorns and started twisting around up there," Harry said.  They giggled, and headed to Divinations.

The next few times Hermione and Snape worked together, they did so in silence.  Hermione thought she might burst if she didn't say something, but judging by the look on Snape's face she thought he might burst if she did.  The tension in the room was unbearable when Hermione gripped a glass tube so tightly it shattered in her hand.  She stared, dumbfounded at the sight of her own blood, and then looked up to Snape, asking "help me?"

He had been attempting to ignore her; attempting to ignore the smell of her perfume as she moved about the tables, from the storeroom to her cauldron, the way her hair waved around her back, the way she held her wand, the crease in between her eyes when she was concentrating, her soft voice as she read aloud ingredients and directions, thinking to the room.  With one quick glance he realized what she had done and he was at her side, ever so carefully grasping her hand (so soft...) in one of his while pointing his wand at it with the other.  He muttered a few words, and the glass came out of her hand, repaired itself, and then the bleeding stopped and her skin healed.  She continued to stare down at her hand, held so reverently in his, for a good thirty seconds after he had finished his healing of her injury.  Suddenly she was painfully aware of the musky scent of him, of books and tea and something else distinctively...him. His chest was moving in the corner of her vision, and she was hypnotized by sudden thoughts of the body that lay under the robes and behind the mask.  She was afraid to move, afraid to blink, afraid that if she did she would lose something from her mind forever that she was just putting together.

"Better?" he asked, breaking the silence, but making no attempt to remove his hand.  She was so warm to touch, and he hadn't touched someone in so long.  He was so content just being this near the girl, feeling her body so close to his; he drew in a quick breath when she finally brought her eyes up to his.  He never wanted to look away.   She took in a breath, readying herself to say something, but he stopped her with a finger on her lips.  "Shh," he whispered, allowing his hand to cup her chin, and she leaned into his hand for a moment before kissing his palm, so lightly that if he hadn't seen it he might have been able to chalk it up to his imagination. 

And suddenly she was gone, in a swirl of robe and a slam of the door, and he was left standing, his arm up where her face had been only moments ago.