Chapter 15: Moving In

So far:

What was supposed to be a trip to Hogsmead with Severus turned into a confusing situation. Severus was summoned to the dark circle and Draco was the topic of conversation (and apparently Hermione was the reason for a punishment for Severus). They go in search of the streets of Hogwarts for him and take him and Ginny to Dumbledore who asks him to go into hiding. Draco refuses firmly. Two days later is the last full day at Hogwarts for Hermione and she once again is in his study with him where he promises to tell her about Stella one day.

"Oh Harry," Hermione said in awe, looking around the empty white-walled apartment with wide eyes, "It's gorgeous!" Her brown eyes flickered across the space in wonder. She was already planning the colors to add to it and where the furniture should go in her mind. She was more than grateful for being a witch. It would make unpacking a lot less tiring.

It was one day after they had left Hogwarts for good (it still seemed surreal). Mrs. Weasley had offered/forced them to stay at the Burrow for their first night, assuring them that it was not nice to stay in an empty flat. She had arranged for all the furniture they were to unpack. Luckily she had stayed away from floral designs for the boys' sake.

"Isn't it?" boasted Harry as he followed her backwards through the front door dragging the heavy trunk noisily with him. It collided with the door frame, but no damage was done. She grinned broadly over her shoulder at him briefly, flinging her golden curls out of the way as she did so. (She had woken up that morning wanting her curls back.)

Harry smiled back and crashed across the room with the trunk over to the other suitcases where he dumped it with satisfaction.

"Three down," he said with a sigh of exhaustion, "one to go." He had dragged them up all the four flights of stairs after having lost a game of paper, scissors, rock with Draco and Ron. "I think I'll take a break..." he said breathlessly and slowly sat down on the trunk Hermione assumed to be Draco's. The trunk gave a creak of protest.

"How much does it cost?" Hermione wondered in admiration as she began to take petite steps towards the doorways to her right.

"Between the four of us the price is more than reasonable," he guaranteed her. His "share" was in fact half of the rent but he would pay for it. He could more than afford it and this unknown act of kindness was what he liked to do best.

He leapt up suddenly from the trunk he sat on as if it had bitten him, flinging his arms out to stop him falling backwards. He stared at it warily like it would pounce. Hermione raised her brows amusedly as she watched from by the kitchen door.

"What's wrong?" she asked, managing to keep the laughter out of her voice.

"It started to sink a little too low for my liking," he said cautiously, giving the suitcase a lingering suspicious look. Hermione snorted.

"Trunks are not made to be sat on," she pointed out with a trace of know-it-all. Harry nodded, not willing to argue the fact that he had already known that.

Hermione stared at him fondly as he brought an end to his short break and turned to leave. He sighed resignedly at the thought of pulling another trunk up all those stairs. His green eyes scanned the new surroundings under his black messy hair with a false hope of being provided with a reason to put off going down. Hermione waved sweetly at him and he rolled his eyes despairingly.

A moment later she was left alone in the apartment as he walked out of the door slowly. She stood between the kitchen and the pile of luggage in the center of what was to be their living room. The windows were curtain-less and the light poured in, drowning the spacious white room. There was a thick heat as a result of the season that filled the room too and Hermione decided to make a point of buying air conditioning.

She inhaled deeply. It was the fresh smell of change and a new life. Harry definitely did a great job of finding a place to call theirs. It was in south London, close enough to the leaky cauldron for their convenience. Ginny planned to stay with them for the summer to ensconce herself in her room. She wanted to be certain her room would not be turned into the "spare room".

She wasn't alone for long. Only a few seconds after Harry left two heads peeked around the doorframe. The similar features of Ginny and Ron were the first things to strike her. She watched the amazement on their freckled faces as they saw the place for the first time. Their clear blue eyes, identical in every way, both widened as they took in the images.

They both came into the room, looking around them at their new home.

"Not bad," Ron said, looking to Hermione and Ginny with exaggerated approbation. Ginny was nodding her approval. She had her long straight hair pulled back into red ponytail for convenience and was wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt with the slogan "watch out for the quiet ones".

They both trod over the fallen leather trunks in the center of the room over to Hermione to look inside the empty kitchen. Ginny tripped over one of them and almost toppled into Ron but she caught herself in time and saved a nasty accident. Ron gave her a cagey glance and moved away from her, next to Hermione's side. Ginny brushed the bangs out of her eyes.

She looked affronted and glared at the trunks spread across the floor as she got herself a safe distance from them. Hermione smiled at her as Ginny backed away.

"Where's Draco" asked Hermione to Ginny as Ron disappeared into the kitchen behind her. Ginny lifted her hand and pointed a small single finger at the doorway across the room from where she had come as a reply. "What's that mean?"

Ginny didn't have to open her mouth because as soon as the words left Hermione's lips the blonde haired figure of Draco Malfoy glided in. He gave the room a glance but didn't pay it much attention. Hermione furrowed her brows. He wasn't concerned about his new home for an uncertain length of time in the slightest.

He walked numbly around the pile of trunks and approached the two women with a blank expression. He slipped his arm around Ginny's back in a robotic movement. Ginny glanced to the floor seriously as he did so. He seemed to suck the happy atmosphere out of the air with his presence alone. Hermione recalled that he had sufficient reason to be somber. Ever since he had discovered that he was robbed of his security and freedom he had been moping around in his cold way, refraining from joining in conversations. Ginny decided to let him deal with it silently, not wanting to confront him about it.

Hermione solemnly studied the scene before her. Ginny with her head bowed being held by a frigid Draco who was trying to do his duty as Ginny's boyfriend. She hoped that would never happen to her. "That" being at the receiving end of icy forced affection. She knew Draco loved Ginny so she wouldn't say anything; he was just going through a tough time.

She glanced over her shoulder as Ron returned to lighten the mood. She gave him a relieved smile and plucked a curl from her bunch of hair and fiddled with it nervously.

"Not a doxy in sight!" said Ron, pleased. "A nice change from the never ending reoccurrence of them in number 12." He grinned at them and Ginny smiled at her older brother, brightly. Hermione sighed, happy to see Ginny wasn't too miserable.

Just then there was a loud crash from the landing beyond the open front door. There were multiple bangs and thuds followed by an incredibly large groan. All four of them winced simultaneously. It was obvious that Harry had dropped the trunk he had been dragging down the stairs and from the noisy moan they assumed that he had almost got the whole way up the stairs or he had been squashed under its weight if he was at the receiving end.

"Oh, poor Harry," said Ginny, definitely trying to add pity to her tone. She hid an obvious smirk behind her hand. Hermione pursed her lips to hold back her own smirk but both the boys on either side of her snorted in shameless amusement at their friend's misfortune.

"Why doesn't he just use a levitation charm?" asked Draco through Ron's chuckles. There was a muffled thud that floated through the door followed by a disgruntled "ouch". Hermione automatically assumed Harry had kicked the trunk in his wounded rage and only hurt himself further. She allowed herself to laugh silently.

She pulled herself together enough to answer. Composing herself, she put on her typical explanatory air. "Because we are surrounded by muggles and now that we can use magic out of Hogwarts, it is our responsibility to use it properly so the Ministry doesn't have to run around after us like children," Hermione lectured. Draco didn't reply, preferring to keep his mouth shut.

There was a series of loud clunks as Harry attempted once again to drag the final suitcase up the stairs. They created echoes through the building and the four of them turned to watch the door as the sounds got closer.

Harry came through the door, panting slightly and red in the face. The sticky heat of July did not help and there was a shiny sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Black stripes of his hair clung to it meekly. He was walking backwards, pulling the trunk with him and his steps were exhausted and slow.

He finally got the suitcase with the others and shoved it forwards so it fell over. It slammed to the floor and he looked up at them from his clinging black bangs with tired eyes above blotchy cheeks.

"Thanks for the help," he snapped sarcastically and threw himself backwards, collapsing on his work. He fell slowly. "Ouch," he said blankly and the others snickered uncontrollably. Harry had landed on the protruding corner of one of the trunks. He just let loose a sigh and closed his eyes, pointedly ignoring the laughter from above him.

Hermione was in middle of levitating a chest of drawers across into her bedroom when there was a startling noise that made her loose her concentration and the chest crashed to the floor. It let loose a crack that informed her that the pine had split somewhere. She would fix it later. It sat half way towards the wall in front of her pitifully on the floor.

She lowered her wand slowly and listened for the sound again. Harry and Ron were in the living room opening boxes of things Mrs. Weasley had supplied and sorting through them. Ginny and Draco had wandered off to who knows where and Hermione was alone in her bedroom. Her bed was pushed up in one corner with a mountain of stuff on it and the noise had seemed to come from it.

Brushing a pile of curls back over her shoulder, she tucked the wand into her pocket as she waited.

"Mrrrraoowrrrr." The ruffled growl was definitely coming from the bed and Hermione immediately recognized it to belong to her fluffy orange familiar.

She rushed over to the bed and tried to unbury her cat. Ron had dumped all of her belongings and boxes on her bed and had obviously mistaken Crookshanks' wicker basket since it was at the bottom of the pile. Hermione had automatically assumed Crookshanks was still at the Burrow.

She shoved the last box off of the basket and it tumbled and bounced to one side on the uncovered mattress. She began to undo the clasps that held her grouchy cat into his prison. All the while he kept growling in discomfort. She wondered exactly how long he had been cooped up before he had decided to complain.

"Poor Crookshanks," she crooned as she opened the swinging door of the cage and the fuzzy bundle leapt out. He brushed past her arm huffily.

With his tail up high, he strutted to the end of the bed to where there was space enough for him to curl up and take a long nap.

"It's... done?!" gaped Ginny in disbelief. She and the others were all standing back to back, forming a closed circle. They were all staring at the completely furnished apartment. Hermione leaned against Harry's back, who happened to be opposite of her. She was tired, even though they had had magic and the assistance of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. The twins had come by but were of very little help.

The whole flat had been completely renovated so that it was ready for them to move in. It seemed so quick it was surreal. Granted it had taken more than a full day, resulting in them spending another night at the Burrow.

Hermione was already starting to miss Hogwarts and Severus even though it had been only two days. They had not spoken of him the whole time although Ginny continued to ask her if she was alright every time she sighed.

"It's done," confirmed Ron in satisfaction. "We can sleep now." The muggle lights flared a stinging white that hurt the purebloods' eyes. Outside the bustle of nightlife of London had set in under the clouded black and starless sky of the city. The new red curtains were drawn to hold in the light and Ron let out a lion's yawn to accentuate his point.

"Yes, sleep sounds tempting," agreed Draco. But no one moved, staying stone still, staring at their new home. "Very tempting," he repeated and still no one made a move.

Hermione knew that she wanted to sleep. Well, her aching muscles knew it better than she did. She was the first one to break the circle, pulling herself off of Harry's back with a barely audible groan.

Tomorrow was a going to be a relaxing day. In fact, Hermione decided to make a point of this whole week being relaxing and quiet.

Hermione rolled over and her sleep-logged body was heavy and slow in following her orders. She peeled her eyelids apart a tiny amount. A shaft of light protruded the crack and stung white hot into her fuzzed brain. She pinched her eyes shut again and shoved her quilt off of her overheated body. Air conditioning was a definite must. She was boiling from trapped body heat by the covers.

Now the quilt was off of her there was a fresh blast of cooler air. She sighed and tried to go back to sleep now that she wasn't being suffocated.

Ten minutes of totally unproductive, motionless silence Hermione was no closer to sleep than to failing a test. She just lay, sprawled on the warm bed with her cheek squashed against the pillow indelicately and her tangled fluffy hair in a mess around her. The night had put an end to her curls. The curtains were open a crack and the window was open. Noises from the streets below wafted through but a calming breeze did not. The filtered light gave the room a grey-ish red hue (red because of the curtains).

She lifted her head slowly. Some strands of hair clung to her face, and she gazed at the alarm clock on her new bedside table. She frowned at it as she willed it with all her might to un-blur.

Finally the numbers came into focus: 7:37. Not too bad a time to wake up although she could have wished for more sleep. They had finished at about two in the morning last night.

Hermione felt a disturbance and looked to the end of the bed. Standing by her feet was the bandy-legged orange ball of fluff who she adored.

"Morning Crookshanks," she mumbled. Crookshanks in turn greeted her with rubbing his squashed face against the exposed sole of her foot. His long hanging whiskers tickled her but she was too sleepy to even smile.

He walked with tiny steps along side her leg all the way up to her waist then snuggled himself against her stomach. Hermione didn't want to disturb him but she had to get up soon. Her stomach was grumbling with hunger as a result of missing dinner last night. She knew she had missed too many meals this month and that sooner or later she was going to receive a stern talking to from either Mrs. Weasley or Ginny.

"I'm sorry," she apologised to the protesting glare from him as she started to shift. He dug his claws into the new sheet covering the mattress as she moved away and it began to move as well, straightening out the indent made by her body.

...

A shower, breakfast and a change of clothes later, Hermione was wide awake and ready to tackle the world. And by that she intended to slip out to see Severus. She had dreamed of him and that had only spurred her desire to see him again. Her friends were wonderful and entertaining but... she just wanted to be around Severus at the moment. She planned to bring him back to see where they were staying at about lunch time. The others had said they were going to the Burrow again and so she would be free to bring him.

She collected her wand from her room and slipped it in the pocket of her jeans after checking to see every one else was asleep. She returned to the main room with light spirits.

Flipping her once again curly hair out of the way she picked up a quill and piece of parchment from a drawer in the desk beside the front door. She retrieved an ink bottle as well and opened it slowly after shoving the stiff drawer back into place.

She took the eagle quill and dipped the tip into the scarlet ink then, careful to see it didn't drip, brought it over to the parchment. She hesitated. What should she write? She wanted to careful about her choice of words so Harry didn't get offended like he had at Hogsmead. Since then it had been as if he had forgotten entirely that Hermione was even seeing anyone.

She bit her lip then scribbled down quickly the first thing that came to mind in her small neat handwriting. She dipped her quill twice more so she had enough ink to finish her note.

Once it was written she screwed the cap in the ink bottle and pulled out the drawer again to put both it and the quill away. The drawer gave a noisy squeak as struggled to be pulled free. She dropped the two objects with a clatter and slammed the drawer back in.

She positioned the note in an obvious place and looked to the bedrooms once before apparating. There was a sharp "crack" as she suddenly disappeared from view.

Hermione wandered the Hogwarts halls alone. It was sad to think that she wasn't returning next year. It was even more depressing now that the corridors were empty. Her footsteps echoed off of the stone walls and the paintings were all staring at her as though she had no right to be there. The more staring painted eyes she received, the more and more unsure she became that she was in fact allowed to come back.

The torches were all dimmed and she did not come across any of the staff. More than once she was sure she saw the shadow of Mrs. Norris trailing behind her. She ignored it more than willingly.

She didn't go straight down to the dungeons opting instead for a brief walk in the direction of the Library. Several heads of suits of armour turned her way as she walked past. They rarely did so.

The coldness and emptiness in the air put her off and she turned back half way. She didn't want to admit to herself she was a little spooked.

She strolled down the hallways in the stillness and took her sweet time in savouring everything she saw. The Medieval atmosphere the castle portrayed really was in a class of its own. This was where the many adventures had taken place, within these thick granite walls.

Almost at the end of the Library corridor (so many memories) she lifted a lazy hand. She held out her fingers and gently let them trail across the wall as she walked. She wished she could stay forever. The cold stone was rough under her fingers.

"Hermione?" a familiar woman's voice startled her as she had been walking leisurely. She started with surprise and halted sharply. "Why are you here?" Lowering her hand on the wall, she placed the voice as her favourite Professor's – well... second favourite.

She turned slowly and confirmed her suspicions. Around a corner she had passed to her other side was the familiar features of Professor McGonagall. She was standing still like a hawk watching Hermione and looking totally baffled, in her dark green robes.

Hermione smiled at her nervously. She was allowed to be here, right? She gave her a faux confident glance, hoping her brown eyes didn't reveal the better of her.

"I'm here to see Severus," she said without wavering in the slightest, even when she realized that that did not account for why she was in the Library hall. McGonagall's frown deepened and her eyes narrowed in disbelieving confusion.

"Oh," she said slowly. Hermione had never seen her elder professor so lost before. She looked as though she would regret the next words coming from her mouth. "So am I to gather from that that the Graduation... stunt... was not a hoax?" Hermione felt her flesh go clammy. So that must have been part of the reason for her lack of accusing glares. People were convinced it had been a hoax. Hermione concluded she didn't care anymore.

"Most certainly not!" she said a little too harshly. She was sorry a moment later. McGonagall was her nicest professor who she respected the most (excluding Severus, but that was understandable) and she looked up to her. McGonagall looked more stunned than apologetic. Her wrinkled face sagged with the burden of knowledge.

"Oh," she repeated coldly. Her old eyes observed Hermione carefully from under her witches' hat. Hermione raised an innocent brow in return and folded her arms roughly across her chest. For an instant it seemed as though they were on the verge of an uncomfortable silence.

"Don't think it wasn't a shock to us too," she added, trying to make McGonagall feel better. McGonagall nodded as if it were obvious but looked a great deal more relieved. She glanced to the end of the hall before back into Hermione's eyes.

"He's down in the dungeons, as usual," she told her for her benefit. Hermione had guessed as much anyway but nodded her thanks to the aged witch. Several brown curls fell over her shoulder and she ignored them.

She unfolded her arms and turned to leave. She gave the bewildered teacher a lingering look before spinning around and striding over the stairs that were close by. She walked down the first few and hesitated. Taking a deep breath she looked back and gave McGonagall a grateful smile. She had been Hermione's mentor for most of her years here.

"Bye," she called over her shoulder as she was about to disappear down the steps. McGonagall watched her leave, not moving from her spot. Hermione had been Hogwarts' most promising student, willing to put everything she had into her work. She automatically assumed the same for her love. She only hoped Severus could fully appreciate what he had.

...

When she opened the heavy wooden door slowly by the handle she peered around it to see if he were in his classroom. The cold half-lit room was empty. The chairs at their desks sat silently under the shadow of the grand desk by the blackboard. Severus was not at the desk.

The storeroom door however was wide and Hermione could not see inside because of its darkness. She crept into the room and took a path behind the back row of desks to get to the open door. Passing the backs of the desks, Hermione could see memories so clearly they may have been real. Neville standing, shivering, on his chair to get away from the potion that had melted his cauldron and the class struggling to get as far away from it as possible, Severus rolling his eyes at the front of the class before bearing down on Neville and lazily cleaning up the mess.

Hermione had to blink to bring herself back to now. The ghosts of her old class dissipated and for one long moment she stared at the empty desks willing them to come back. Such images were a comfort and now that they were gone it brought back the realisation that she was never going to be sitting in her seat, hand waving pointlessly in the air, as she patiently hoped to be picked to answer. But those days had melted into oblivion.

She leaned on the back of the nearest chair with her hands.

Another ghostly image appeared; a single one. Severus striding through the paths created by the chairs, his cloak and robes billowed out and around him as he would stop and pass looks of distaste to students doing poor jobs of their work. His black eyes - hollow and empty – or so she had once supposed. Another character entered the scene: herself. Sitting at her desk, no... more like lying on her desk. She had her head resting on her folded arms and her curly hair spilling around her. She could see the shadow of Severus freeze and for a moment look totally blank and caught off guard before putting on a sneer of seething disbelief.

Slowly the other members of the class began to come into focus in her mind. Abandoning their tests, all of them stared blatantly at her. But what she pictured the clearest in her mind's eye was the image of Severus trying to look furious when in fact she knew he was not. She could not be certain, maybe he had been but she had a strong suspicion that he had felt no particular desire to strangle her. The confusion of feelings in her at that time had been raging out of control – plus the fact she was so sleepy had impaired her ability to see that.

He must have felt something then, she reasoned, because he had let her stay for a long time after he had finished marking her test. Ginny had pointed it out to her that he had been either praising or advising her, neither of which he was obliged to do.

It wasn't very exciting but she realized they had their very own forbidden love story. She let her fingers stroke over the texture of the wood of the chair as she thought. The torchlight flickered over her face and revealed a small smile that she was unaware of.

Was this the end, she wondered. Was this the happily ever after part of the story? She let go of the chair and stood straight. Images filled her head of her being her own Cinderella riding off to the castle in a horse driven carriage for her new life. In some ways it was true. Hogwarts was a fantasy castle and beautiful to look upon. And her fairytale contained magic of a different kind but magic all the same.

She looked around the room again, this time with misted eyes. Her imagination was running away with her, she decided. She had to see Severus and images of the past could be delaying her future.

With her eyes still clouded with images of old times and happily-ever-afters she began to walk over to the storeroom door at a leisurely pace. Her smile broadened when she spied the blackness filling the small room. The thick fog of darkness that refused to be parted by eyes alone brought back her best memory.

She paused once she was standing right before the barrier of black. With a dazed grin she strolled forward and was swallowed by it. She didn't mind the dark. She knew where everything was perfectly without the need for a light. The flood of smells filled her senses immediately and she recognised a few of them. The rest were just spicy and she let herself enjoy them without thinking about which they were.

She crossed the small space quickly, pictures of Severus vivid in her mind. The black door at the end was invisible to the new eye. She found the handle with no trouble at all and paid it extra care so she did not make a noise when she opened it. If Severus was there, she wanted to be able to watch him before he knew she was there.

She wanted to watch the calm relaxed look on his face while he read or worked. She couldn't describe what was coming over her. Actually she could in one word: love. She admitted she was becoming more and more like she had feared: love-sick and obsessive. She knew she could be obsessive but when she had seen Lavender and Pavarti acting like fools over ridiculous crushes she had promised herself not to become like that. But this was nothing like that. This was different and to her tastes precisely.

The door was thankfully silent as she pushed it open softly. Fresh orange light exploded through the gap and lighted the storeroom enough to see where things where. Hermione blinked to adjust to it then continued to apply pressure to the door.

The first thing she could see was the maroon leather couch from over the left arm and it was empty, so was the single green high-backed chair beside it, facing the fire. She opened the door further with a disappointed frown but kept to silence.

Her disappointed frown melted away when she spied Severus, who had not heard her come in, standing over his workbench. There was a potion bubbling over a low fire next to him and on the desk were half chopped ingredients and vials of unmixed liquids of many colors. He was standing at the desk with his back to her, holding a vial of crystal clear emerald up to the light coming from the fire. He was examining it carefully to check its consistency and signs of slight imperfection.

Standing black in against the backdrop cosy enough to be worthy of Dumbledore, he had his full concentration on his work and his work alone.

He lowered the vial, deeming it suitable for use. He leaned over and poured it into the cauldron of swirling creamy bubbles and immediately it changed from a thin pale liquid to a dark grey still liquid which could not be called liquid anymore because it was the consistency of tar or honey. He did not stir it deliberately and returned to slicing a half finished piece of dandelion root. Hermione remembered the use of dandelion root was purely for taste alone, seeing as it had no magical properties. And she recalled that when cooked or boiled it tasted much like a very dilute caramel.

Hermione moved forward from the doorway she had been frozen in. She had been hypnotised by his movements alone, now she wanted to see his face. She moved the door into an almost closed position so as not to make a sound. Then she crept around behind him to his right hand side. He still did not appear to notice her because she was behind his shoulder, just beyond his range of sight.

His eyes were focused and sharp, blackly examining his work as he completed it. Nothing but perfection was permitted in his mind. She quietly stood from behind him, looking past him at his work as he counted out the fifteen most perfect slices although Hermione failed to see a difference between them.

He dropped them into the cauldron, one at a time and Hermione watched his precision with fascination as he waited exactly seven seconds between letting go of each one. As each one landed on the thick potion and slowly sunk out of sight the color began to turn again to dark blue and by the time he had added the last it was a light sky blue. It once again began to bubble, as a sign it was now thin again.

Hermione's brown eyes became unfocused as she found herself slipping away from concentration. He reached a slender hand right in front of her and picked up another vial but did not look back her way.

"You can assist me if you wish," his silky tone startled her. She looked at the back of his head in surprise. He still had not turned around and was pouring three drops of the other liquid into the cauldron. Each drop fizzled in contact with the sky blue liquid and a small amount of steam rose each time.

"You knew I was here?" she asked with disenchantment lining her voice, pouting exaggeratedly. She saw the edge of a smile form on his thin lips.

"All the time," he purred as he placed the vial back in its stand. Hermione watched him do so, mesmerised. He let go the thin glass tube delicately and finally turned to look at her, keeping the confident one-sided smile. His black eyes watched her from between the raven curtains of hair, tenderly.

She felt her love growing and was surprised it could do so but it was. She didn't smile back but watched him intently with a relaxed expression. She just wanted him. No prince charming for her, thank you very much! Severus Snape held enough grace to overshadow him any day. And besides, those ridiculous unrealistic images were too sickly for her tastes.

She went up to him and put her arms around him. She felt his fingers rest at the base of her back in return. The soft tingling feeling was fresh and welcomed. She briefly squeezed him just because she wanted to.

He leaned his face close to hers and Hermione inhaled sharply. It still felt so... intoxicating.

"Hermione," he said quietly, just above a whisper. Her name was still relatively new to him and he liked to play with it. She shivered with pleasure. Somehow her name always sounded so enticing when she heard it from him.

"I missed you," she mumbled. She took a hand and lifted it to his face to brush aside the sheet of black hair. He waited patiently as she lifted a finger to his cheek and gently pushed the fine black hair aside. The tips of her fingers stroked his face accidentally. Hermione gave him a small smile. How she would have reacted half a year ago to seeing the future... It probably would have given her a heart attack.

He pulled her closer still so she was pressed up against him and kissed her lightly on the lips. Hermione felt like she had melted from the touch and that if he kissed her again she would slowly turn into nothing more than a satisfied puddle. She let herself relax against him and wanted to cry out in protest when he broke the kiss.

He looked her carefully in the eye to check that nothing was wrong but the cryptic way he studied her was misleading and Hermione thought there was nothing behind it.

"You came soon," he stated, his face still very close to hers and his fingers still gently resting on her lower back. She stared up at him with misty eyes. He mistook the mistiness as a negative thing.

"We finished soon," she replied shortly. She wanted to kiss him again; it was never enough when he kissed her.

"Are you OK?" he asked quietly with his frustratingly enigmatic way. Hermione picked up that something was amiss from the seriousness with which he asked her such a light question. His black eyes were searching hers and she returned the look with a baffled frown. She didn't want to pull back from him, but she did just the same.

She rested her hands on his chest as she leaned away to read his expression better. She gathered no more from his features than she would have from the other end of a field.

"Why?" She didn't want to ask 'what's wrong?' unless he skirted the subject too obviously.

"You didn't come quickly because something was the matter?" he was surprisingly blunt at the same time as avoiding saying outright what "the matter" was. Hermione was confused further and it showed in the way she studied him. What had caused him to think in such a way?

She pushed herself back further away from him by the hands on his chest and let her expression reveal her emotions of bewilderment.

"I came because I wanted to see you," she bit back offensively but not so much that she was angry with him. "What would make you think something wasn't right?" she asked him straight. He would have to tell her the truth or lie outright and she trusted he wouldn't.

"It is of no importance yet," he told her calmly as he let go of her. Hermione felt a lot less secure without the feeling of his fingers and also felt irritated that he had managed to dodge her deliberate question. But she wouldn't give up so easily.

"It is of importance to me," she snapped. Realising she was reacting a little too strongly, she dropped her sour glare. He just watched her openly from their small distance apart. Although his expression was the most unmasked she could still not read it. She knew that no one could but wished that she, because of how much she loved him, could be the only one to finally crack the code.

The cauldron next to them suddenly let out fizzling and crackling noises of protest from neglect. Severus reacted immediately and adequately, stepping away from Hermione to attend to his work that was on the fine line of being ruined. Hermione blushed guiltily as he turned away and smoothly picked up a flask of murky, lumpy brown mixture from the desk.

He measured out the correct amount into a measuring jug so quickly that it was a miracle none of the stuff was spilled. Hermione watched in fascination once again at the attentiveness he paid his potion. It had been her fault, in a way, that he had let it sit too long. As he added some shredded leaves of unknown origin into the lumpy mixture which had been properly measured, the potion fizzled impatiently. Little sparks slowly started cropping up each time a bubble burst.

Hermione moved closer to the workbench to observe. She stood next to Severus, fingers balancing on the edge of the desk and leaning forward with a look of interest as he worked beside her. The fire bathed his face in orange glow and he tipped the jug of mud colored water into the cauldron.

Hermione jumped as on contact the potion gave off a huge thick mushroom cloud of smoke into the air. It rose slowly and climbed towards the ceiling. Her eyes followed it wondrously. The fine liquid in the cauldron stopped fizzing and began to swirl of itself clockwise rapidly.

"It's alright?" she asked cautiously, she knew how to make potions correctly and which ingredients held which properties. But she did not know whether or not small changes or delays in their creation would affect the outcome. That was something that simply came out of experience. She took her gaze away from the cloud in the air.

He looked at her with an unreadable glance and nodded his black haired head. It did not make her expression any lighter; in fact it darkened as she finally placed the potion he was working on.

"Why are you making a pain preparatory potion?" she said slowly and with a coldness creeping down her spine as she finally caught a glint of surprise in his eyes. He had more hoped than expected her not to recognise what he was making. He looked away from her eyes and Hermione decided it may be better if she did not receive an answer.

She wanted to reach out and touch his arm but something held her back, telling her that he may start if she did. His black eyes, clear as crystal were unfocused and she felt he was slipping away from her temporarily as he finally was at a loss for words. Hermione looked away to the bookshelves for comfort that she wouldn't find in his face. If she wanted to leave this uncomfortably scary subject alone she would have to change the subject.

"But why," he voice wavered before she regained a steady control on it, "did you think something might be wrong?" She kept her watch on the books but felt his stare just the same. He was grateful for her diversion from the last question but she obviously failed to realise that this question was not much better.

"Nothing is?" he prodded, still refusing to reply. He busied himself with bending to open a drawer to pull out a corked flask of dragon's blood.

"No," she retorted with a stubborn shortness that demanded an answer. Severus, meanwhile, straightened with the container in hand and began searching for something else in the crowd of bottles balanced on the desktop. His long black sleeves fell over his hands and his black hair hid his face from view.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest as a gesture of impatience but her countenance divulged no such feeling. Severus picked out a bright orange from the midst of the bottles and did not look at her as he began to add it to the potion a drop at a time. His slender hand balanced the container perfectly therefore he did not need a pipette.

"Then there is nothing to worry about," he reasoned coolly, keeping his steady concentration on the juice he was adding. Hermione watched the side of him as if she didn't know what to think. "For now you don't need to worry," he was repeating himself she noticed. It was the way a person talked when trying to assure themselves as well as the person they were speaking to. "But I automatically prepare for the worst because events are unpredictable," his voice regained the certainty and a shadow of authority.

"That is more understandable," Hermione said and Severus turned to glance at her with grateful pride. "But-" the gratefulness evaporated, "-that does not explain to me what it was you feared..." she paused to watch his reactions which, she noted, successfully hid his tenseness. "However I won't ask because you obviously don't want to tell me. I trust your judgement if you feel it would be better that way." The way she accented the word "trust" was deliberate.

He nodded, "I appreciate your respect," he told her truthfully as he placed the bottle back on the table. "Some things are better not known."

"I can't think of any examples but I'll take your word for it," Hermione smiled a little and Severus observed her out of the corner of his eye as he continued to pay the majority of his attention to his potion.

Ok- had to delete my old author note and write a new one for the... um... circumstances I am now facing.

Brace yourselves for bad news....

My laptop (conataining all my works both published and unpublished) has had some sort of breakdown. It refuses to start up and I dont know whats wrong. I appears to be a problem in the hard drive and if that is the case I may lose all my stuff (and my computer). This is really bad. I have a large unpublished story (that is really bad however I want it to remind myself of my previous attempts and to compare with) an extra chapter of chance (never to be seen but I need it all the same) the first chapter of electric shivers (which I was actually not totally embarassed by - I have to say only your reviews actually made me keep my word on finishing this story because the further I look back the more embarassed I get). And thats not the worst. I have both chapter 18 and a large hunk of chapter 19 which I did not save onto a floppy and are now floating in oblivion somewhere in my hard drive. That took forever to write - thick stuff - and I am panicking about how to get it back because i am NOT prepared to rewrite it.

I am going now to a repareman to see if he can fix it but I may loose all my works (lots of stuff that is not on ff - including DS!)

You're all so nice!

Luv, Snakecharmer.