As the morning sun made its slow arc across a brilliant, cloudless sky, light filtered in the small room, slanting across the lone sleeping figure and nudging her to consciousness.

Stretching, catlike, she sat up and blinked to clear her eyes, before realization hit and had her bolting from the bed, clutching her hair and wailing, "Damn-it! I overslept!"

Tossing on her clothing and grabbing her books, she ran from the room, pulling on her black robes as she went, and entered her 3rd class just as the last bell rang.

Idly watching the class enter and quiet down as soon as they noticed his presence, Snape frowned at Hermione's empty chair. Standing, he stretched the kinks out of his back, and aiming his wand at the blackboard, began speaking, the words appearing in chalk as soon as they left his lips.

Hearing a quick spattering of last minute footsteps as the bell rang, he turned in time to watch Hermione throw herself into her chair, and just as quickly lift up, shocked eyes linking with his. Frowning slightly, she lowered herself gingerly and winced. What the hell? It felt like … like his hands were still painfully gripping her. Seeing the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, she quickly lowered her own gaze, and bit her lip. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. He'd bruised her. It had to be. What else would hurt like this? Trying to find a less painful angle to sit, she found herself squirming uncomfortably during the majority of the class period. Gods, this was going to be a long day.

Making his way around the room, he approached her from behind and laying what appeared to be a friendly hand on her shoulder, pressed down heavily to force her tender bottom against the hard wooden seat. Speaking casually, he reminded her, "Tutoring tonight, Miss Granger. Please manage to be prompt this time."

Raising angry eyes to his, she managed to choke out, "Yes, sir." Failing to pull her shoulder out from beneath his heavy hand, she felt her eyes fill.

Humor leaked into his eyes as he watched her, repressing a slight smile. Snapping his eyes to Harry, he added, "You too, Potter. Eight o'clock sharp!"

Mumbling, "Yes, sir," Harry waited until Snape was out of earshot before whispering to Hermione, "Can you believe Dumbledore sent me for tutoring? What in bloody hell did I ever do to deserve this?"

Asking herself the same question, Hermione shrugged. And then blushed, knowing exactly what she had done. Memories of the previous night assailed her, and feeling her breath hitch, she realized she could no more stop her nocturnal visits than she could stop breathing. The lure – even with the threat of punishment – was too great.

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Hermione had never spent such a long and miserable day in her life. Why were all of the chairs so damn hard! In all of Hogwarts, could they not have one cushioned seat? Skipping dinner, she spent her after class hours soaking in a hot tub of water, reliving every moment of the previous night. And she thought "learning" was the highest form of entertainment.

Walking slowly towards her weekly tutoring, she wondered about the upcoming hours. With Harry in attendance, surely the Professor would avoid any untoward comments or actions. In the flesh, she still felt an almost overwhelming sense of intimidation when she was near him. She hid it, as best she could, but it was there, lurking. Curiously, as an apparition, she gained confidence and felt all barriers fall. There was most definitely a freedom in invisibility. And if she were wise, which she had not been - she thought, cringing - she would make use of the advantage. She still reacted as if he could see every move she made. He made her feel as if he could.

Approaching the Potions room, she was startled by Harry's light pat on her shoulder.

"Hey there, 'Mione! Glad to know I'm not the only one going in there." Smiling lopsidedly, he moved to open the door for her.

Smiling back, she entered ahead of him, and walked into the room, immensely pleased they were the first to arrive.

"Me, too, Harry." Giving him a baleful look, she added, "It's been torture."

Throwing their textbooks down, they both took their seats, Hermione, a bit slowly.

Frowning, Harry had to ask, "Hermione? Is there something wrong?"

Blushing, she looked away for a moment before turning back to acknowledge, "I took a bit of a spill on the dungeon floor, running to class this morning."

Looking bemused for a moment, Harry said, "I'm sorry."

Hermione gave him a rueful look. "Fell flat on my bum."

At his erupting laughter, she scowled and punched his arm. "Not funny, Harry. I'm bruised!"

"Aha ha … oh … um … " Looking appropriately chagrined, Harry gave sent her a look of sympathy, "I'm sorry. It's just the image. It's not so funny when you hurt all day. Take it from someone who's been struck by more than his share of bludgers."

Patting her shoulder, he said sotto voice, as Snape entered, "Explains your wiggling-fit in Potions class today."

Moving to lean against his desk, he eyed both students coldly. "And so the "Boy Who Lived" needs help to graduate." Pausing to stare at Harry with a slight sneer, he intoned, sarcastically, "Not so special after all, are you, Potter?"

Frowning, Harry repressed his anger. This was a lose-lose situation. Nothing he said would help. Imaging the blood running down Snapes mouth after a vicious punch, Harry relaxed internally, and politely replied, "No, sir. I'm not."

Glaring at him for his callous cruelty, Hermione snapped, "Perhaps you could begin the lesson, Professor instead of wasting our time?"

All three froze in shock. Hermiones eyes, angry and wide, challenged Snapes murderously dark look. Interjecting, Harry said loudly, "Forgive her rudeness, Professor. She's been a bit abused today."

Moving his furious gaze to Harry, he waited.

"She fell and bruised her …. um … self on the stone floor. And has been generally moody all day." Harry spoke quickly, trying to save Hermione from the wrath he saw flaring in Snape's eyes.

Moving his gaze back to Hermione, he spoke crisply, "That's no excuse for talking disrespectfully to a teacher, Miss Granger. Fifty points from Griffendor!"

Seeing her mouth open to retort, he added swiftly, "Another word out of you about this subject and I'll double the points!"

Dropping her angry eyes to the floor, she proceeded to ignore his obnoxious presence, planning in her mind a payback for his vile behavior.

Knowing full well the train of her thoughts, he chose to ignore her, and began his planned lesson.

"This evening we will go over the finer points of medicinal potions." Gathering ingredients too numerous to recall, he measured, stirred, and mumbled for nearly an hour, before pouring the contents into a tube and handing it slowly to Hermione.

"And this is … ?" she asked against her will, still incredibly annoyed with him.

"An evening potion to accelerate the healing process of bruises." Pausing to catch her amber eyes, he added, "I understand you could use it."

Walking up to the kettle, Harry looked and whistled long. "This would be an enormous help to the Quiddich team. Does it work quicker than the clinic's potions do?"

"Overnight." Snape said quietly, his eyes still holding Hermiones. Watching her features lighten in dawning comprehension, he repressed an urge to smile.

Tossing the contents back, Hermione handed him the vial and spoke with obvious relief, "Thank you, Professor."

Looking into the pot and stirring, he added in a silken voice, "Perhaps you'll learn to move with more caution."

Raising his eyes to hers, he pinned her with a level look. Helplessly caught in his hypnotic gaze, she felt heat rush to the finer points of her body. Forcing her reply through numb lips, she answered softly, "Perhaps," before turning to gather up her books.

Practically running from the room, she made it halfway to her bedroom, before Harry caught up, and stopped her. "Hermione? What's the matter?"

Turning to look at her good friend, her best friend, she could think of no answer. "Hormones, Harry. Nothing. Never mind." And turning, made it to her bedroom without another word from him.

Eyeing her quick retreat, he stood watching her thoughtfully. She almost acted as if ….nahhhh …. Not his Hermione. Not little Miss Bookworm! He'd bet good money, she'd never even been kissed, or invited a kiss. Studious to the point of asexuality, he'd never even considered her as anything but a friend. But something about her tonight … something had given him reason to pause. She seemed more … feminine. More … like one of the ever elusive and entrancing opposite camp. And walking off with trailing thoughts of his last, near miss, effort with one of their members, he promptly forgot his curiosity of his old friend.

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Two-thirty a.m. found Hermione laying sleeping, fully dressed and completely knocked out on her bed. Smiling at his own cleverness in adding a sleeping hex on the potion he'd handed her, Snape stepped lightly into her room via the fireplace and glanced over at her sprawled form. Moving slowly around her room, he spent less than three minutes searching before holding up a bottle to the moonlight and squinting at its pale silver contents. Taking the full bottle with him, he returned to his room and spent the remaining hours disseminating and discovering the secret to his nocturnal visits.

"I'll be damned," he murmured to himself, impressed quite against his will. He'd only heard rumors of this potion … stories, really … and assumed it was all some adolescent fantasy. "It really does exist." And smiling slowly, he let his imagination run with the possibilities.