Originally a one shot, but was asked to continue, so...
It was the last night at Hogwarts. Snape sighed and looked through the enchanted ceiling. He was thinking of a certain Gryffindor who ould be leaving the school tomorrow, for good, perhaps. He wished he had courage enough to request a dance. It was, after all, a ball.
But he was afraid. It was not often he was afraid. He had double crossed Voldemort, after all. But with simple social things, he was terrified. What would people think if they saw him, head of Slytherin house, Professor Severus Snape, hater of Gryffindors, dancing with Hermione Granger, Head Girl, epitome of Gryffindor-ness? They would talk surely. No, best this way.
And what if she rejected his offer of a dance? That would be too terrible. It was best if he just left it the way it was. A student-teacher relationship, a Slytherin-Gryffindor relationship. She would be gone tomorrow, then he could forget. Then he could forget.
"Severus," said Dumbledore. He sometimes wondered if Dumbledore could read minds. "My dear boy, just ask her to dance! If she says no, you never see her again, if she says yes, you get your dance! Nothing can go wrong!" His eye twinkled. He had a way of making even the most stubborn mule see sense.
He looked across the dance floor, and saw her. Dancing with Potter. His date, the youngest Weasley, was tangoing with her brother, and people looked on in fear and amusement. Harry and Hermione were talking about something, when...
Her eyes met his. Potter was gone back to that Ginny girl. Hermione was looking right at him. He stood and walked across the hall. A million thoughts ran through his head as he trod that path leading up to her, but he could never remember a single one. He took her hand and pulled her close, looking right into her eyes. At that moment he didn't notice anyone staring, whispering, nothing. He just noticed the browness of her eyes, the smell of her perfume,t he warmth of her body, the flush in her cheeks.
He had never felt so happy in all his life. It was mixed up and strange and different and new, but it was somehow right. Hermione was right. And he knew what he had to do. He would not forgive himself if he didn't.
"Do you want to know something?" she whispered suddenly.
"Yes," he breathed back.
"I think I might love you," she couldn't meet his eyes as she said this. He felt his heart soar, the shiver in his spine, the delight in his stomach. But he kept his face passive, serene.
"Hermione..." he said, tilting her face up to his. He kissed her then, a sweet, passionate, gentle kiss. It said more than words ever could, but he knew she still needed words. That was her way, never happy until it was said, or taught, or in writing.
"I think I might love you too." he said simply. Then he lifted her hand up and bowed to reach it, kissed it, and turned and walked away.
People swear that on that night, Snape smiled his first smile.
A/N: If you want, i could continue on, make a reunion, you know, but only if you want me to!
Thanks to my reviewers, I didn't think I'd even get one, but already I've got a few:)