The rider to the usual disclaimer is this: Please accept my deepest thanks and apologies to those authors who've inspired various parts of everything I write but especially this story. Some references are more noticeable than others (FriendlyQuark, Quillusion, Shiv and "The Princess Bride" being the most obvious) but if you recognize it here as something you wrote elsewhere, what you wrote wormed its way into my psyche and has become a part of my odd little corner of reality. Anything derivative is meant only as the highest of compliments and the palest of comparisons.

A quick tip of the hat to my husband - 50 House points to the first to find him. And as always, thanks and chocolate to Barrie, the bestest beta babe!

Chapter 9 - Caught Off Guard

The cold shower didn't help. If anything, the icy water made things worse, further brutalizing Hermione's senses. Her skin, already hypersensitive from the unexpectedly graphic thoughts of the man who had been staying with her, was now burning and the blood that had been pounding in her ears was now hammering toward a decidedly more southerly direction, leaving her even more hot and bothered than she'd been before her shower. Sighing, she dried herself and dressed to go back downstairs.

The sound of his sharp gasp hit her ears just as she reached the bottom riser. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she realized that the worst had happened - somehow, Severus had been tracked and was at the mercy of a bloodthirsty Death Eater. The terror that struck her as she grasped his situation was briefly abated by the shocking acknowledgement that she genuinely cared for him and was prepared to fight to keep him safe.

Pressing her back against the wall just outside the living room, Hermione forced her mind to remember the women's self-defense techniques she'd learned at the YMCA program her parents had made her take the summer before she'd turned 15. For a moment, the normally pacifistic Hermione wished she had a loaded gun. She briefly considered getting a knife from the kitchen but decided that it would take too long and the risk of making a noise that would alert the would-be assassin to her presence was too great.

Bracing herself to fight hand-to-hand with whomever was threatening Severus' safety, she prayed that Dumbledore's wards would leave the assailant as magically defenseless as she was; at least then she might have a chance to let Severus get away or even to help her turn the tables on his attacker.

Stealing around the corner into the living room, she braced herself, distributing her weight evenly over her feet. If nothing else, she was determined that she would have the advantages that came with good balance and sneaking up from behind. Despite her best intentions, however, there was no way she could have been prepared for what she saw.

The horror Snape felt was clearly written on his face. His eyes were widened in alarm, his mouth was agape, and his normally sallow complexion was, as impossible as it seemed, even more colorless than usual. Looking around the room, Hermione realized that there was no one else in the house with them. She was confused and moved to look over Snape's shoulder; could someone be threatening him electronically?

Something was terrifying him to the point that words failed him - what she saw nearly made her laugh out loud.

Apparently, he had used a search engine to look for something having to do with the keywords "adult," "romance" and "seduction." The results had obviously not been what he'd expected. The pictures on the screen - animated, no less - would not go away. He kept trying to close the windows but as was typical for such prurient websites, every time he tried to exit one, another even more explicit picture would pop up.

He was panicked now, pressing keys at random. Hermione took pity on the man and reached over him, clicking on the buttons needed to exit from the internet entirely. Her elbow briefly brushed his shoulder and he jumped. Completely bewildered by his flustered demeanor, Hermione decided to investigate.

Severus had been well and truly horrified at what he'd seen. Hermione was amused and intrigued at his reaction. She'd never really thought about any of her professors as anything other than . well, professors. While it wasn't a shock that he would be surprised and displeased to find something so vulgar, it surprised her that he would be this discomfited.

"What about all this - precisely - disturbs you?" She asked gently, nodding at the now blissfully blank computer screen. Surely in his life he'd seen far worse. She imagined that any forty-year-old man had seen if not done more than the fairly routine acts she'd seen depicted on the computer screen; as a former Death Eater, he must have participated in worse. Why would images of sex be so distressing to a man who'd seemed so callous and uncaring in every other situation?

He started at the sound of her voice. Taking a few moments to gather himself, he was able to order his thoughts somewhat, but his words bubbled out with little editing: "I am appalled that something so private is so casually discussed and thrown about. Don't these people appreciate how intimate such an act was meant to be?"

She looked at him with honest curiosity. "What exactly do you mean?"

He flushed and stammered. "There should be no appeal to the violence of rape and there is no art to copulation, Miss Granger." The use of her formal name caught her attention. "But to ." he seemed to struggle to find exactly the right words. "To make love is a precious - no, a sacred act. At its best, it is a beautiful sacrifice, a gift."

"I'm sorry, Professor, you'll have to explain that." Hermione spoke softly but firmly. She'd realized that his reversion to formal titles gave a measure of distance that allowed him the comfort he needed to continue the discussion but she truly did not understand what was bothering him.

"Any creature can reproduce, Miss Granger; there is no sophistication to the physical act itself. It is the will, the consciousness that sets us apart from our biological cousins. Seduction, if you will, in nature revolves around one partner demonstrating their attractiveness as a provider, as a mate, as a mere donator of genetic material. The idea that so many seem to think that what those pictures --" here he waved dismissively at the computer - "represent is in any way romantic is blasphemy."

Hermione's brain was trying to process his comments but her thoughts were derailed by the person saying the words. Severus Snape, the universally acknowledged hater of all things amorous, the infamous hunter of snogging students and self-proclaimed enemy of the love-struck, was a dyed-in-the- wool romantic. Black wool, to be sure, but shot through with unexpected tenderness. She was fairly certain that smoke was beginning to slowly curl from her ears.

Snape continued, still as unfocused as before; it was as if he were speaking to himself: "Making love means allowing yourself to become exposed and defenseless. Being that unguarded is an invaluable gift. It means inviting someone into your heart, your very soul, even knowing that you might be rejected."

That was the moment when she saw him as he truly was: a vulnerable man who wanted nothing more than to be recognized. He wasn't looking for the kind of recognition a war hero would receive for his perilous work as a spy for the Order, he wasn't looking for an Order of Merlin, any class, or even looking for accolades as a teacher. Severus Snape wanted to be recognized as a man. He wanted to be seen as someone with feelings and desires, a passionate man who wanted and deserved to be desired and loved by someone.

Hermione was suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that she very much wanted to be that someone. She couldn't have been any more shocked by that insight than if she'd seen Tom Riddle himself in a party hat and fishnet hose standing in her parlor.

"I've never made love," she thought. It took her a moment to realize that she'd actually said the words out loud.

Her voice had been soft. In fact, Severus was at first uncertain that she'd spoken at all but the combined expressions of wistfulness and outright desire on her face led him to the conclusion that he hadn't imagined her comment. Now it was his turn to be curious.

"What do you mean, you've never made love?" Severus' tone was as soft as hers had been but his voice trembled ever so slightly with something undefined but sounding very much like hope.

Without pausing to think, Hermione answered his unspoken question: "They were never interested in giving, they only wanted to take."

Something clicked for both of them at that moment. They now saw each other in a new light. Just as with hidden picture puzzles, they were able to suddenly recognize things that had been invisible. Now that the truth was revealed, they could never be unseen again.

Severus was shocked that no one had given this woman that which he knew she would treasure and - to his amazement - what he realized he wanted to give. His next thought was relief that she hadn't laughed at him as he'd spewed forth his unedited comments. If he had been forced to admit it, he would have also confessed the conflict he felt: relief that she was not completely inexperienced but disappointment that there had been others.

For her part, Hermione was oddly relieved to have Severus express the very sentiment that refuted her fear that sex - no, making love - was no more special or meaningful than any other activity, like doing the grocery shopping or cooking .

The Gloria Steinem-trained inner voice that had taken her best friends by their ears during their years at Hogwarts and lectured them that girls were just as smart, just as talented and just as valuable as boys suddenly panicked and began shrieking something about double standards and hypocrisy. The inner Hermione, however, stuffed a sock in the feminista's mouth. Girls were just as smart, just as talented and just as valuable as boys, but they were also undeniably girls and deserved to be treated the way girls - the way women - wanted to be treated.

There was a moment of terrifying clarity when Hermione realized that Severus didn't just understand the difference between men and women; he cherished it. This was a man who would give himself, heart, body and soul, to the right woman. Hermione very much wanted to be that woman. Not a woman, not the next woman - the woman; his woman. There was nothing weak or submissive about it; she somehow knew he would subjugate himself for "his" woman as much as or even more than he expected that woman to do for him.