Chapter 7

Severus had long known that his rooms in the bowels of Slytherin's dungeons were drafty, but he'd never cursed that fact before. Now as he carried the tiny Hermione Granger through the mahogany doors, he wished desperately for a little more warmth.

She'd been nearly delirious with shock the entire way, whispering over and over the word "spiders". Her shaking continued to get worse until he could barely make out her mantra past her chattering teeth.

With a word the doors opened, and he moved swiftly into his chamber. In this one moment as he moved over to the couch, he didn't think he'd ever held something so preciously delicate--at least not since Morganna.

Her hair was wild and full, tangled into disarray from the fingers, which had combed through it to dislodge the arachnids. She was as pale as death, and he pulled her in tighter to offer his body heat. Her clothes were shredded, and what she was wearing left little to the imagination.

At the couch, he bent down to lay her small frame among the plush green upholstery and the burgundy throw pillows. Slowly--only when he knew she wouldn't be overly jarred--did he let his arm slide from beneath her knees, his palm caressing the backs of her naked thighs. With his now free arm he brought his hand to her face, brushing back that wild hair as he adjusted the timber of his voice to soothe her.

The baritone he used was deep but soft, loud enough for her to hear past her own whispers. "Hermione, it's alright now. You're safe now." The word "luv" hung on his tongue like a curse and a prayer. He wanted to use it, wanted to speak it out loud to comfort her as well as himself-- she'd been hurt, and he'd taken too long to save her--but he couldn't. She was injured, the hundreds of small painful welts that were forming on her delicate skin told him that, he didn't need to confuse her--or himself-- with words he could do nothing about.

For the briefest moment, just as his voice faded into antiquity, the terrified whispers ceased. It'd been the same in the hallway. The moment he spoke she'd quiet down, listen, before starting once again to whisper her terror. This was no exception, and as he brushed back the final strands of chestnut gold hair to reveal one savagely bitten shoulder, he could feel her lips moving once again against his neck.

He tried again to speak to her as the soft patter of tiny paws approached the couch to investigate. "Hermione, I know you're frightened." He felt the lips against his neck stop and her head tilt just a fraction of an inch to hear him better. Severus pressed his advantage, running his palm from her crown to her waist and back again, feeling the little welts all along the way. "They're gone Hermione. No more spiders." He felt her echo the word. "That's right, no more spiders."

With long slim fingers he lifted her chin, bringing her enormous, terrified eyes into view. His heart clenched and he lost his resolve to protect them both from his words. "Oh Luv, shhhhh, your safe now, Hermione. I have you now."

There was no reason in those pools of liquid chocolate, only the terrorized look of someone on the edge. He thought back quickly to the files he'd memorized on all the students at Hogwarts, but couldn't remember reading about Hermione suffering from a phobia of spiders. He hadn't seen it happen--though he quickly figured out that the curse had come from Parkinson--perhaps the terror had started before that, he thought as he ran his hand across her upper back, then again--

The sudden cry of pain froze him immediately in place as Hermione curled into herself, guarding her left half. More cautious this time, he stroked her back lightly and felt her tense up the moment he reached her shoulder. Hesitantly, Severus pulled her slight frame against him before looking down at her back. His curse was soft but vicious. The skin was already turning a deep purple and he found himself stroking his fingers around the edges to test her pain.

She whimpered. "Hermione, I know you hurt, but you'll be alright, I promise." With a final caress, Severus settled her fully on the couch. He watched her eyes as he moved to step away and almost came back to hold her. With a quick turn he rounded the couch even as his heart clenched. She was crying now, soft whimpers of fear and panic, but he pushed the sound away--he had to concentrate.

At the far end of the parlor was a solid oak door, and through that his bedroom, followed by the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. He caught his reflection in the mirror just as he heard the first of Hermione's sobs begin in earnest. He was paler than usual, with deep worry lines cut into his face. His eyes were haunted and not even the glamour could diminish his true worry for the young woman now sobbing for help. An idea struck him suddenly, and with a soft incantation, the glamour on his features melted away, revealing the true lines and definitions of Severus Snape. Hermione needed a friendly face, and the mask he wore was the furthest thing from that. She'd calm down more quickly if she didn't have to be afraid of her Potions Professor. Wasting little time, Severus grabbed a jar of healing balm and a dreamless sleep potion before turning on his heals. Back through his bedroom he approached the parlor, pausing for a moment to consider moving her to the bed for what he was about to do, but decided against it. He'd never be able to sleep in it alone once it held her scent.

In the living room he rounded the couch and knelt down, ignoring the little creature that was now perched on the arm of the great winged back chair he favored most nights. Placing his supplies on the floor he brought his hands to Hermione's wrists and gently pulled her hands away from her face, doing his best to ignore her sobs and soft cries for help. But as her eyes made contact with his, her crying stopped, and she stared at him, her eyes alight with the knowledge that he hadn't left her. He smiled down at her before beginning his examination of her injuries.

By some miracle her face had been spared the worst of the spider's bites, but the rest of her was an entirely different story. Hundreds of welts rose her skin, puffing it up in painful patches with tiny poison packed white dots at the top. Hands, arms, torso, legs, nothing was spared but her face, from the vicious bites. Black's only good move had been removing her shirt, which had trapped the spiders next to her skin. Now as he looked at her though, he realized his assessment of her clothing was not at all accurate, for she was nearly naked before him.

Her shirt was gone, but the right cuff and part of the sleeve was still attached to her wrist. She wore a white bra in some kind of silky material, but the left shoulder strap had broken, and just above the rim of the cup was a half circle of dark pink skin. Without thinking about it, he fixed her bra, knowing he had no right to look at her now except with the critical eye of medi-wizard. Her black skirt was torn in shreds that extended from the waist to the hem, exposing weeping scratches from Black's claws. A sudden sense of rage at Black overwhelmed Severus for a moment, the damage would have been worse had Black not done what he had. Severus nearly growled at his own thoughts and quickly turned back to his assessment. She'd lost a shoe somewhere, but both socks were still in place and she looked nearly ridiculous wearing a pair of knee-hi socks with little else. In all she looked truly pathetic, and yet in that one moment, as he gazed down into eyes filled with so much relief at seeing him, he felt more for her than he had in the last year he'd been discovering her. She was breathtaking.

And right now, she needed him.

His cool hands went to her tear flushed cheeks, and he watched her wide brown eyes focus on him. "I didn't leave, Hermione. I had to gather some supplies." He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "I know you're still scared, but you must try to relax, you've been bitten many times, and I need to apply an ointment to your skin to ease the burning."

While a regular healing potion worked for most injuries, those involving any type of poison, like spider venom, could not be cured with such a concoction; however the balm he bent now to retrieve would draw the poison from the white tipped wounds, while the herbs healed the welts.

When she didn't answer him, just continued to let those large heart wrenching tears leak from her eyes, he looked away. He almost thought he could feel her pain, sense her fear, and at the same time, her trust in him. It was too much for him, he'd lose himself if he continued to watch.

The jar was made from clay, cork stopped, and easily opened with a gentle tug. His long slim fingers scooped out a large amount of the creamy gold mixture and he brought the substance to his mouth and breathed onto it, both warming and activating its power before rubbing it between his hands and starting at Hermione's left shoulder.

Her eyes had followed him the entire way, and while he knew she was watching him, he also knew she was still too far away from him mentally to know what he was doing. As his fingertips touched the first inch of her poisoned flesh, she started, jerking away from him until he spoke her name again, soothing her softly with a tone he'd used only with her.and Morganna.

A soft whine issued from Hermione, but Severus only offered her a soft smile before continuing, knowing the slight discomfort would be worth it to her once her mind returned from wherever it was now.

Taking another glob of the cream, he again breathed on it, and then began to work his way carefully down Hermione's body.

* * *

It was dark where she was.

For just a moment, Hermione entertained the thought that she was dead, that Pansy Parkenson, the little pug-nosed bitch, had embarrassingly done her in. God, she'd never live that down.not that she'd be alive in that scenario.

For a moment her mind drifted. She'd been cold for a long time, but she was getting warmer by the minute, and the heat was steadily soothed her aching muscles. She couldn't recall why she was so sore, but she'd bet ten kunts it had something to do with Harry and Ron.and Morganna, mustn't forget about her.

She remembered being afraid for some reason, something Parkinson had done. Hermione racked her brain trying to figure out what she was missing, but suddenly the most lovely sensations were happening all over her body. Soft, warm, light filled touches caressed her arms and neck, down the sides of her body to roll soothingly across her cramped stomach; down her hips and over thighs that felt as if they'd run a marathon; across the tops of her feet, and then the bottoms. She emptied her mind of Parkinson and the others, just letting this new delicious sensation caress her. In the void she sighed as warming rays of light flitted across her body to warm her from the inside. This must be heaven, she thought as she allowed herself to relax.

Fear and terror had brought her here, but just now it was a rather nice place to be. She blinked suddenly, before letting out a soft giggle as that pleasant sensation tickled the back of her knee--she'd always been rather ticklish there.

Suddenly a soothing, gentle tone filled the darkness accompanied instantly by a pastel kaleidoscope of colors, and Hermione soaked up the sounds and colors like warm butterbeer in the middle of December. She felt so much warmer inside and sighed with the pleasure of it all. As the colors drifted away, the darkness remained, but it wasn't quite as scary, not half as lonely as it had been before the color.

Her thoughts were distracted when those gentle caresses returned, soft fleeting touches that drove her mad just as they drove her towards contentment. The sweet tones came again followed then by the soothing colors of light pink, yellow and blue. Something made her decide to latch onto the color this time, to try and make it stay a little longer, warm her a little more. With all the effort she could muster, Hermione willed her strangely floating body to open its mouth and ask the sound to stay with her.

She suddenly, didn't want to be alone.

* * *

".don't go."

Severus paused, his hands frozen in mid air as he turned to look at the young woman currently laying across his couch. From the beginning, her eyes had been open, a blankness that told him she was not in the room with him. But now, as he looked, there was a bit of focus coming into them, not enough to say she'd returned, but enough to let him know that she was aware she was not alone.

He wanted to reassure her, to comfort her. With the back of his knuckles, he caressed her cheek, careful to avoid the painful looking cluster of bites under her left eye. "I am not going anywhere. Relax, I am almost finished." He listened to her gentle sigh before returning to the problem at hand.

Hermione's breasts.

Through the thin material he could see the small rises of bite marks and he knew the fabric was only irritating them further. The balm would help, would in fact, erase all signs of damage in only a few hours, but.could he do it.touch her? Did he have the right?

She was hurting and he wanted to help her, to fix her, make her better, and then tell her to never do something ridiculously stupid as to fight a Slytherin in a pack again! She could have been killed--or worse!

A Slytherin alone was one thing, but together, they were formidable. While they didn't often work together, Slytherin's were known to extract Life Debts, trading them like muggle baseball cards. A Life Debt made the indebted a virtual slave until the debt was paid off. Severus shivered at the memory of the one and only time he'd been the indebted. Lucius had managed to save his life one night from a rather hungry hobgoblin. For a month, he'd been forced to listen as Lucius reminded him day and night that he owed the blond a Life Debt. As it worked out, he managed to convince Voldemort a few weeks later, that Lucius should not die due to his stupidity in getting Narcissa pregnant and then trying to have her abort Voldemort's "future servant". Life Debt for Life Debt--and what the bloody hell was he going on about life debts for, he had much more important things to worry about!

Hermione's breasts.

And then, a decidedly devious and purely Slytherin idea entered his mind, giving him the answer to his problem. He could heal her, could use ancient magic to end this stalemate and make her well. Bind her to him in the language of old--trick her to make her his. Protect her and possess her, a combination he could not resist.

Leaning forward, Severus manipulated his voice into black velvet. "Hermione, I need your permission to continue." He paused, watching her face, knowing he was walking a fine line but not caring--at least not overly much. "There are places I cannot heal you without permission."

Again he paused, watching as her eyes slowly blinked before opening again. It was now or never. He cleared his throat, his voice at once becoming dignified and timeless as the full weight of his British accent came to offer one of the most ancient and binding of all wizard magic. "As is wizarding tradition, I, Severus Snape, Master of the Snape bloodline, pure since the days of Merlin, formally ask your permission to begin a BodyBond with you, Mistress Hermione Granger." He paused again, looking into her unknowing eyes before pressing forward, he told himself he had no choice as to his next statement, no choice but to force the issue. "I will take a lack of response as an answer of acceptance. You have ten seconds to deny the permission granted by your silence."

For ten, long, torturous seconds, he waited, watching her for any sign of understanding or protest, not that she'd know what a BodyBond was to refuse it, few today did.

When he reached ten and heard no sound from her, he closed his eyes, knowing he'd just started something that would drive him mad, but at the same time knowing that he couldn't deny the necessity of it--or his desire for it.

Drawing his wand, Severus pointed the tip at Hermione, directly over her heart.

"Despondeo me corpusesp et copula adiunctio adusque."

I pledge my body and heart in union with thee.

A cool silver light spread from his wand, out across Hermione's body, enveloping her in a beautiful spectacle of sparkles. Slowly, the silver light began to seep into her skin, entering pours and other openings, filling her body with the light of a true BodyBond. As the light filled her, leaving her skin aglow with an inner light none but perhaps Albus would ever notice, she sighed, letting her eyes drift closed in bliss. It was a simple bond to perform, with ramifications that outnumbered the sand in the sea.

Severus felt a minor sense of panic; he'd just BodyBonded himself to a 15-- no 17--year old girl! Drawing a deep breath, and praying to the great Goddess that he hadn't made the biggest mistake in his life by entering into a BodyBond with a teenager, Severus quickly undid the front clasp of Hermione's bra and peeled back the fabric.

As he'd suspected, the sensitive flesh was raw from the material and with a quick dip of his fingers into the jar by his knee, he was prepared to finish the job he'd started.

And then, the little prat on the arm of the chair finally decided to speak. "Do you expect me to believe that you just complete a BodyBond with a teenager so you could touch her breasts." Came the rather superior and high pitched tone. "You could have just groped her to your hearts content, she is unconscious you know. But no, you seem to think a BodyBond is light magic. What ridiculously stupid game are you playing at, Severus?"

Suddenly a second voice interrupted, this one just as high pitched, but filled with so much syrup and sugar it would have put a lesser man's teeth on edge to hear it. "I think it's soooooooo cute! She's beeeeutiful! They're meant to be, forever!" A squeaky sigh. "I'm so proud of you, Severus! I could just huggle you all day for this!"

Then the voice changed again, this time returning to that of the superior know it all. "Don't you dare! I will not spend the rest of the week locked in the chest because of your stupidity. Severus is being idiotic enough for the both of you today! Honestly, Severus, what stupid notion is running through your head?"

He spoke before he could catch himself, his heart speaking before his brain--a nasty habit he thought he'd overcome after Mellisson's death. "Familiarity breeds trust."

The superior voice snorted. "It also breeds contempt. Think boy! BodyBonds don't just go away! You're stuck with her, a TEENAGER, for Cerise knows how long."

The voice changed again. "I think it's so romantic! No matter how far the distance, they'll be linked, one body to the other." A deep sigh. "It's like a fairytale."

Again, the voices changed. "She'll run off and break his heart! And that's just what we need, you trying to huggle him back from a broken heart."

"I resent that!" Came the sugary voice. "Everyone deserves a huggle, even you, cranky pants!"

"Shut up, Spike."

"No! You shut up, Bubbles!"

"Both of you, be quite." Hissed Severus, leaning his face up at the little creature. "I do not require a lecture or a huggle. I made the decision and it is done, regardless of the consequences. Now, leave me in peace so I can finish attending to her." Shifting back, he raised his hands, opening them flat to spread the balm quickly and efficiently. No matter how Slytherin he might be, he knew he had nothing close to her consent, and he wanted to get the job over with now as soon as possible.

A few light strokes later, and the last of the bite marks were sufficiently covered. Now all she needed was a few hours rest. Wiping his hands off on a handkerchief from his robes, he retrieved the dreamless sleep potion and uncorked it.

Careful not to jostle her, Severus lifted Hermione's head slightly, his eyes locking with her still cloudy ones. "The potion will help you sleep, Luv, just relax and drink it down." Slowly he poured the dark liquid into her mouth, relieved when she began to reflexively swallow. A minute later, when the potion was finished, he lay her back down among the pillows. "Now, rest, Hermione. I'll be here when you awaken," and with a quick movement of his wrist, he gently closed her eyes, and waited for the deep and even breaths he knew heralded her easy sleep.

The sugary sweet voice came from the floor beside his knee, and he looked down into large golden eyes. "She's very special to you, isn't she, Severus?"

He nodded, not yet daring to give voice to his thoughts, and indeed, the very action he'd just completed. A BodyBond, with a teenager! She was going to drive him mad!

With slightly shaking hands--whether from fear or anticipation he didn't know--Severus raised his wand and began the delicate spells to heal his Bondmate's injured shoulder.

* * *

She knew at least part of her surroundings were a dream, but as Hermione blinked into the room glowing in firelight, she couldn't be sure which parts were which. Her body felt heavy, as if she'd slept for weeks. Swallowing a few times, she felt the thick aftertaste of some potion that contained sage, and she rolled her tongue through her mouth to clear the taste.

She needed something to drink.

That need established, Hermione shifted, rolling to her side and propping herself up on her elbow. A dull pain radiated from her shoulder, and she sat up more fully against the arm of the couch to take the pressure off. When she finally managed to look at where she was, she figured it was still a dream, a very, very expensive dream.

A stone fireplace was diagonal from her feet and massive, casting a warm glow across the room like a fleece blanket, soft and comforting. The mantel was a good five feet off the floor, a shelf of some dark and tasteful wood. Little trinkets adorned the top, adding class as firelight bounced off crystal figurines, a statue, and a small wooden box. To the right was a series of massive bookshelves done in a rich mahogany, polished and gleaming in the fire's glow. Books of all shapes and colors were stacked on the shelves neatly, and Hermione didn't have to get up and look to know that they were all perfectly organized, though she somehow doubted that meant alphabetical. More personal possessions littered the bookshelves, and as her eyes wandered, she could see bobbles, jars, a few picture frames, and an assortment of wizarding gadgets that would have put a few Hogsmead shops to shame. A door followed, heavy and solid looking, the door of a great fortress, and whether that was the door to freedom or damnation, she did not know. More bookshelves, and as Hermione turned her head, she realized that the majority of the wall space was taken up by these massive tome displays, each neat and in full utilization.

Next to the couch on which she resided was a massive winged back chair, the fabric a dark green, almost pine, with wood details at the feet and arm rests. Skilled hands had carved the frame, and she felt nearly mesmerized by the tight swirling patters that must have taken months to complete. A quick look at the plush couch she was laid across told her the material and design were the same as the chair, but the couch was color kissed by burgundy throw pillows, one of which her head had just been resting upon.

She turned and looked just slightly behind her, seeing a thin table pressed against the back of the couch, two addition chairs like the first on either side, and a wizards chessboard in the middle with pieces in play. She took a second to examine the game, black was obviously win, though she doubted white had figured it out yet.

Hermione wasn't quite as bad at wizards chess as she let on. Ron was a sore loser, and it was just easier to let him win, besides, it was one of the few things Ron was really great at, it just so happened that she was better.

A sudden sound came from behind her, and she turned to see an oak door, light glowing around the frame. Startled, she collapsed her muscles, letting her body sink down to lay flat against the couch. She realized then she had no idea where she was, even if the little trinkets everywhere spoke of more money than she'd ever hope to see even if she someday managed to get a look inside the main vault of Gringotts.

The sound came again, and Hermione held her breath, suddenly racking her brain trying to remember what had happened. She remembered Malfoy taunting her in the hallway, and then the start of the duel with Parkinson.and then, nothing. She tried harder, even closing her eyes in concentration. When that didn't help, she walked through the events one by one, hoping to dislodge some fragment of memory.still, nothing.

With a sigh, Hermione opened her eyes, and had a terrible start, before reeling back against the cushions and just barely managing to hold in her squeak of surprise. Looking up at her while standing on two legs, with enormous golden eyes, was the cutest pink teddy bear she'd ever seen. Bright pink fluff lay gleaming and beautiful, while a cute furry nose was fastened to the patented teddy bear smile. The inside of its ears, paws, and snout was a light gray, and just where its heart was supposed to be, was a brightly embroidered, red glowing heart.

Now she knew she was dreaming.

With her logical mind in overdrive, Hermione decided that as long as this was just a dream, she might as well do a little exploring. Wincing from her stiff muscles, she pushed herself up before swinging her legs over the side of the couch.

It was then she realized she wasn't wearing her clothes.

A midnight black silk skirt was buttoned down the front of her frame, the sleeves also buttoned to hold the heat of her body from escaping at her wrists. The shirt was long, with tails that brushed the top of her knees while she sat. Suddenly, the fabric felt wonderful against her skin, and Hermione leaned back against the couch with her eyes closed, just letting the sensation of the most expensive silk she'd ever felt caress her skin as she breathed. Her head tipped to the right and she rested her cheek against the plush couch for a moment, feeling warm and safe. In this room, even surrounded by rich luxury, she felt welcome, safe and secure, emotions she hadn't felt in a long time, at least not since she'd become friends with Harry Potter and his Voldemort secrets.

A dip in the cushion near her right knee caused her to open her eyes-- the pink teddy bear was now sitting next to her knee, its golden eyes staring blankly up at her.

That was it, she wasn't dueling anymore! It was a purely male driven stupidity anyway, and if it caused her to have dreams about pink teddy bears that moved, she didn't want any part of it ever again.

Still, a childhood fear presented itself as fears often do. She remembered watching a movie as a child, about a room full of toys that could move and talk so long as no one saw them. While the toys in the show had been cute and kind, Hermione had always had a strange fear about waking up some night to find her toys trying to kill her. A morbid fear for a seven year old, but one that had caused her to place all of her stuffed animals on shelves so she'd hear them if they tried to get down and come after her in the night. This transient teddy bear was a little too much like that old fear.

But she felt safe here, she'd just admitted that to herself, meaning that there was probably nothing wrong with the pink toy, it was just that, a toy. Drawing a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and reached her hand out, one finger extended, to touch the toy.

The minute her finger made contact with the soft fur, those golden eyes turned blood red, and the sewn mouth of the bear ripped open, revealing hundreds of tiny needle sharp teeth that at once turned, biting into her wrist and taking her hand off before she had time to scream.

With a violent jerk and a gasp, Hermione's eyes flew open and she sat up, leaving the dream time.

Shaking, and trying desperately to swallow back her fear, Hermione clutched the soft blanket to her, breathing deeply. Tipping to her side, she allowed her head to rest against the back of the couch, her eyes closed tightly to block out the sight of her hand being ripped off by a pink teddy bear.

Once she'd got herself under control, she opened her eyes again, only this time they widened as she realized she was in the same room from her nightmare. Looking down at herself, she saw the black silk shirt, and as her eyes flew back up in a panic she realized that the walls were lined with bookshelves--expensive bookshelves. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she turned, looking out across the room towards the fire.

On the floor, not two feet in front of her, was a small, pink teddy bear, standing on its hind legs, with large golden eyes, and gray markings. Suddenly, it threw it's paws out and called in the most sugary sweet, voice imaginable, "HUGGLE TIME!!!" Before ambling towards her.

And just like that, Hermione's jaw dropped, and she let out the most terrifying scream of her life, as she backpedaled across the couch before slamming into the wooden arm.

Then the possessed demon toy stopped, a puzzled expression on its ultra cutesy face. "You don't want a huggle from Spike?"

Her mouth opened and sound came out, but it wasn't anything coherent. What in the bloody hell was going on?! Was she stuck in a nightmare?!

There was a sudden crashing sound behind her, and Hermione turned so quickly to find out what it was, that she fell right off the couch, landing on her bottom, completely tangled in the blankets.

"Oh no!" The teddy bear--Spike--squeaked, "The pretty lady's all tangled up. Spike will help her!" And before she knew what was happening, tiny furry paws were tugging unsuccessfully at the heavy blankets.

"NO! Get away from me!" Fighting both the blankets and the furry creature, Hermione backed herself into the corner of the couch and the chair, kicking out with her bare feet and clawing at the material covering her. That's why she didn't hear the footsteps, or hear her name being called until Professor Snape was crouching down before her, shaking her from her stupor.

"Miss Granger, get a hold of yourself!"

The shock of seeing Snape not five inches in front of her face, caused Hermione to shriek again, this time reeling back until her head hit the wood frame of the chair with a smack. She cried out in pain, before raising her hands to the soreness now throbbing at the base of her skull.

"Oh no! The pretty lady's hit her head! We'll get ice!" And she heard the small creature race away, it's little paws shuffling across the thick oriental carpets.

She whined, her eyes tightly shut against the pain in her head and the shock of not knowing what was going on. When long cool fingers moved to press gently at the point of contact, Hermione gasped and jerked forward, causing her nose to bump against Snape's.

Caught off guard, he pulled back before blinking. But in that instant he must have seen the shock and fear on her face, because for once in his dark and bitterly mean life, Professor Snape's features softened for just a moment. "Don't move; your head injury isn't serious, but you've managed to fight your way into this blanket, and it is most definitely winning."

Did Snape just make a joke? Hermione blinked, not quite believing what she'd just heard. And then she couldn't quite believe what she saw either.

In the shadows cast by the fire, as Snape pulled and tugged, loosening the blankets from their stranglehold about her, Hermione saw something that very nearly stopped her heart.

His nose looked smaller, not quite as long or hooked, even though it was still just, just, slightly too large. His cheeks were fuller, as if he hadn't starved himself for the last decade. His lips looked different too, fuller as well, not just two thin lines of colorless flesh, but pink and soft, kissable.

That was it, Professor Severus Snape, looked completely snog worthy.

Oh god, she must have a concussion, a brain hemorrhage, or maybe she was dead and this was hell. Letting out a low groan, Hermione dropped her eyes and her chin, raising her newly freed hands to cover her face. She was never, ever, going to allow herself to ever think of this moment again, ever! People terrorized by spiders and then attacked by living teddy bears were bound to suffer from some kind of mental exhaustion.

And then she remembered.

Spiders.

Her head flew up, her eyes wide and panicked as they locked and held to those normally beady black ones that didn't look quite so black in this light. The shaking started immediately as she remembered the last curse Parkinson had been able to cast.

Spiders.

"Miss Granger?" Was that worry in his voice, concern? She didn't know.

".spiders." The tears suddenly appeared and fell from her wild eyes, flowing over her cheeks to touch the corners of her struggling mouth. ".spiders.everywhere."

Large, warm hands came up to her cheeks, fingers twining into her hair before Severus's handsome face came close to dominate her world. "The spiders are gone. They cannot hurt you." Vaguely, she heard herself whisper his words. "That's right, they're gone, dead. They can't hurt you anymore."

Suddenly she panicked, breaking away from his grip. "No! They were everywhere! Everywhere! My hair!" She tugged at the frizzy mass of sun kissed brown. "My face!" Her fingernails racked over her cheeks, flushing the tracks pink. "My body!" And then she looked down, saw the black silk shirt, and with a terrified shriek she tore at it, her mind telling her that the spiders were there, hiding against her skin, ready to bite.

Before she could get the first button undone, strong hands grabbed her wrists and pulled, before pushing her arms against the couch by her shoulders, as she screamed in rage. But at the first sound of Severus's voice, her struggles ceased, and her crazed eyes flew to his, holding on for life and sanity. It was serenity and order, all in one soft baritone that soothed her long enough to allow her mind to hear the words he spoke.

"They're dead, Hermione. I cast the counter curse the moment I arrived. They can't hurt you, they're gone."

Only one part got through to her. "You.you killed them?"

He nodded, his eyes never looking away. "They can't hurt you."

Hermione blinked. "You didn't let them hurt me." A statement. A fact. He'd protected her. She was safe because of him. And then by deduction.

She was safe with him.

Before she knew what she was doing, she'd let lose a loud sob and thrown herself into his arms, clutching at his robes as she soaked his chest with her relief.

He'd saved her.

He'd saved her.

He'd saved her.

* * *

She was crying, sobbing, nearly hysterical once again, and all he could do was hold her as she clung to him. His hands wound into her hair, pulling her impossibly close to him, feeling her tears soak through his shirt--the exact match to the one she was wearing. She was so small and helpless in his arms, and he wanted her to stay right were she was, safe and protected, before he cursed himself for wanting her to continue crying just so he could hold her.

"I wish I could say that." Guilt forced him to push her back gently, to make her look at him. "I didn't get there in time to prevent the curse or the spiders. You were hurt." He paused. "I've managed to draw the poison from your system, and you may be tired for a few days, but you'll be alright." He told himself the words were for her, to comfort her, but in reality, he knew they were for himself. He hadn't protected her, so he had to do the next best thing-heal her. It was a grossly insignificant contribution, he should have never let her be injured in the first place.

But the angel in his arms only shook her wild mane of hair, sending trickling tears further down her cheeks. "No, you stopped the spiders, I remember, I heard your voice." Her hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to her. Suddenly her voice dropped to a near whisper and her eyes grew hooded, secretive. "You stopped them when no one else could, when not even Ron and Harry could. You saved me, you did. You saved me from the spiders." And then she grew boneless, collapsing against his chest as she continued to breathe in ragged gasps.

With Hermione cradled securely in his lap, Severus began a slow rocking motion, comforting them both with the sway of his body to some internal and universal rhythm. Again, her lack of spider phobia unnerved him, and with guilt still clinging to his voice, he asked her. "There is no mention of arachnophobia in your student file. When did this fear begin?"

For a very long time, Hermione did not answer; and the room was silent except for the returning of tiny paws and the clinking of ice. Severus looked down at his companion and shook his head silently, watching the teddy bear's glowing eyes dim a little as it sat down before them on the green rug.

When she finally spoke, it was whisper soft, and broken with past pain and a great deal of remembered fear. "I-I think I was seven, maybe eight." Her fingers flexed in his shirt, but eventually settled again, her nails just barely biting into his flesh. "My Gram had just died, and we went to go clean out the house. I remember mom and dad in the kitchen, and that it smelled like lemons. Mom was crying, she'd-she'd remembered something, and dad was holding her." Hermione pulled away, looking up into Severus's eyes before looking down at her position in his lap. "Not like this though, he wasn't holding her like this." She leaned against him again, settling herself as his eyes grew wide at her statement. "Daddy told me to go downstairs and get the box labeled 'Ballet'. Gram was a ballerina, she even danced for a great company in America until she married my grandfather."

Pulling back again, Hermione looked up at him, her quizzical eyes burrowing into his for information. She sniffled. "I was going to be a dancer. Not just back then, but right up until I got my letter for Hogwarts. I never told that to anyone before." She shook her head, looking away from him to gaze into the fire. "Sometimes I think 'what if'. What if, I'd ignored the letter and gone to Julliard; I'd already been accepted there." She paused, and he could hear the pain the possibilities caused her. "I never told Ron or Harry. It hurts sometimes," she touched her chest, "here--to think about it. I was one of the best, really good, I might have been great." She leaned back, tipping her head to rest against his shoulder as she continued to search the fire for answers.

"I think about how safe and normal being a dancer would have been, how I wouldn't have to fight Voldemort, or worry about being the brainy-ack of Gryffindor. I've always been smart, I skipped the second grade, but until I got here, to Hogwarts, school wasn't all that important. Nothing was as important as ballet class, point shoes, or rehearsals. I would never have been a prima ballerina, I knew that all along, and maybe that's why I decided to go to Hogwarts. It hurts knowing that even your best isn't good enough, that no matter how much I practiced, no matter how bruised or broken my feet got, my name would never appear at the top of the program." She sighed in his arms, her eyes drifting to his chest rather than the fire. "At least at Hogwarts I had a chance to start over again, to not only be great, but be the best. I studied harder than all the rest, and I've worked for every grade I've gotten, and it feels good but," she shook her head, "never mind, it's not important."

Then as quickly as that, she switched back to her original story, but Severus had burned her past into his brain for future analysis; Hermione Granger was not the know-it-all that she portrayed, and her admission to the reason made him want to holder her even closer. Then there was the final note she'd denied to tell him, what could it be?

"The box was in the back corner of the basement. Daddy said he'd seen it there a few years ago when he'd come down for the lawnmower. I wanted the point shoes you see, I thought that if I could fit into them then I'd really be a dancer, maybe even a prima ballerina someday.

"So with mommy crying in the kitchen, something I didn't want to see, I ran down the stairs and into the basement. It was dark, but I was too excited to bother turning on the lights. The only reason I'd decided to come instead of staying with Aunt Tina was to get the point shoes, though I didn't tell Mommy and Daddy that." She sighed, stretching her fingers against his chest before fisting the silk once more, working it in her hand.

"I saw the box, and ran straight for it, nothing else even registered in my head." She scoffed at herself. "That was my first stupid mistake."

He never, ever, wanted to hear her call herself or any action she'd ever taken, stupid, again! "You were only a child, Hermione. You should not judge your mistakes so harshly."

She pulled back, her eyes dark as she looked at him, disbelieving. "Why? Isn't that how you've judged me since the first day we met?"

He felt like she'd punched him square in the gut. He closed his eyes, reliving all the horrible things he'd said to her and the other children over the last fifteen years, all designed to make them stronger for the fight ahead, every last hateful words said to make them hate him, and prove him wrong. Sometimes it worked, most of the time it didn't, but he had no other course of action to take in case Voldemort rose again and called him back. The sheraid had to be continued.

Opening his eyes, he locked his gaze to hers. "Yes, that's exactly what I've done." He couldn't deny it, no matter how much it hurt him to admit.

But Hermione just nodded, turning away and continued where she left off. "I made it to the box, but right when I got there, I ran into a spider's web." She shivered, and he tightened his grip, rubbing light circles into her back as he continued to rock them. "Dad told me later that I must have kicked the box over when I hit the web. There was a nest, with baby spiders, and I must have broken the egg sack when I ran into it." She paused again, and Severus felt the shaking start. "They were all over me. In my hair, on my face, all over my arms and legs. Little legs and hairy bodies..." She took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm herself. "They just kept coming, and I kept screaming, but with the door closed and my mom crying in the kitchen.no one heard me."

Severus wasted little time in tightening his grip and increasing the velocity of his rocking. He never said a word, offered no worthless sounds of false comfort, his presence would have to be enough; and it was, because Hermione's panic began to lessen until finally, she hung limply in his arms.

His voice was quite when he spoke for the first time, the timber soft and soothing as his hands moved to caress her golden, brown locks. "I see now. That many spiders must have been terribly frightening."

But surprisingly, Hermione shook her head. "Not because of the spiders.they're just bugs, and I'm not scared of them like Ron is." She turned, letting her liquid eyes lock onto his, hold them prisoner to her pain. "I was all alone, it was dark and cold, and.and no one would save me. But this time-this time someone saved, you saved me." Slowly-and Severus knew her conscious mind was taking no part in this display-she brought her hand to his face and touched his cheek. "You did that, you saved me. I was all alone, it was dark and cold, and you came and saved me." The hand on his cheek came back around his neck, and then she was hugging him, letting him nuzzle her hair as she breathed in his scent.

He could feel her comfort through the BodyBond, knew that she felt safe and comfortable in his arms. The thought nearly undid him. Here he was, holding a beautiful and sensitive, intelligent and confident young woman in his arms, one that was growing more and more comfortable with his presence, and yet one who, when in her right frame of mind, would return to hating him as the bastard he pretended to be.

Severus clenched his teeth. Hermione was beautiful and sensitive, perfect for the man known as Severus Snape. But she was too delicate, too young and sweet for his alter ego Professor Snape. She'd pretend it was all a dream later, or forget this conversation entirely. Her mind would never allow itself to consider him a confidant, or worse, a friend. He wanted to hold her forever, to damn his past and start again, to start a new life with this small young woman. Leave Hogwarts, leave Voldemort, leave everything behind and start all over again. Was that so much to ask? Was it too much to carry her away into the night, take her to one of his estates and keep her there until he could convince her that he wasn't the bastard he pretended to be but a man, one of flesh and blood, one that desired her above all women? Was it too much? Yes. And so he continued to hold her, to breathe in her scent, and let his hands touch her, his fingers feel her textures and commit them to memory. He could never have her because she didn't want him.

And then his newest theory flew straight out the window.

Hermione Granger, woman/child that she was, slowly worked her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, working the rough pad of her thumb against that most sensitive flesh. He couldn't help it; he shivered at the delicious contact.

And then so did she.

Hermione sighed, her body relaxing even as his own tensed beyond comfort, his nerves coming to life with the glorious sensation of a woman's touch. He wasn't prepared for her to feel the same.

"Mmmmm, that was nice." She sighed, before doing it again, flexing her fingers against his neck, making them both shiver with delight, before she moaned that ancient call of desire.

Her voice was music to his ears, the soft caress of breath against his neck the final stimulant he needed to react. He felt his body harden, his breath quicken, and those wondrous currents of electricity begin to flow through his body to center in that part of him that burned to have her, to claim her as his and spirit her away to their own private paradise. Gods, how he wanted her! His hand tightened in her hair.

Eyes closed, lips parted just slightly as she drew in a heavy breath, Hermione's lips touched the side of his neck as she exhaled. "Again." Slowly, her hand released his shirt, drifting down his chest, her fingers playing against silk and flesh until she came to pants, and then went further.

The back of her hand brushed against his growing erection. He just managed to hold back a gasp.

Hermione didn't.

With a little whine she pushed back against him before rocking her hips forward in a desperate plea from one lover to another. His arousal was her own, his need became hers. Their bodies were one, the same, connected by magic as ancient as time, and as timeless as magic.

Hermione's head tipped back, her breath exhaling in one loud gasp as her eyes closed and blood rushed to color her cheeks in arousal.

Severus's blood suddenly ran cold. He pulled back, his heart racing, as he looked down at the wanton image of this young and tempting goddess, this newly made woman, begging the only way she knew how, for his touch. A BodyBond was ancient magic, magic that not even the wisest wizard completely understood. Their close proximity increased the power of the bond, distance would weaken it, but it would still be there, her body tied to his, his body tied to hers. What he felt she felt, his desire for her was matched only by her growing desire for him. He wanted her desperately, and now too, did she want him.

What had he done?

"Don't do that." Came her dreamy reply as her hand came up to rest against his racing heart before moving to her own chest, feeling the rapid beating of her own in tandem, in synch, their emotions a perfect match.

Then her hand moved back to his chest, her fingers flowing like water across his collarbone. Slowly, her eyes closed and she exhaled, a purely sexual sound of contentment as her head rolled back to rest against his shoulder. With a careless look, a slow, sweet smile found its way to her lips, and Severus knew in his mind, just as his body now did, that smile was all for him.

NO! Too soon! He had no right!

With a panicked push he rose to his feet, swinging her around to nearly drop her onto the couch as she let out a little squeak of surprise. Ignoring her bewildered look he moved away from her, from temptation, to stand by the fireplace, his chest heaving with the strain of arousal she'd caused with her innocence. His chest burned, his fingers tingled, and he cursed himself in a dozen languages for what he'd started. He wanted her back in his arms, desperately, a place he knew she wanted to be as well. But he couldn't, he wouldn't take advantage of her--at least no more than he already had this night. Too much too soon and she'd resent him, he wouldn't allow that, wouldn't screw this up-whatever this was.

On the floor behind him, Spike gave a little whine. "Oh, good magic and bad magic. Bubbles is going to say I told you so!" The pink bear covered its large golden eyes and moaned before giving a few sniffles.

He couldn't face her, couldn't turn around and explain why he'd let her go, why she wasn't back in his arms where she belonged, where he could feel she wanted to be. Through the bond he could feel her body tingling as much as his own, knew she was confused and needing. Her body was telling her one thing, her mind another, and now he had to convince her that her mind was the way to go. He had to make her deny the call of their building desire.

And then he realized that Spike had given him the perfect opening.

Turning around, thankful that the back light would hide his body's reaction to her in shadow, Severus looked down at his familiar, avoiding the pain he knew would be in Hermione's eyes. "Perhaps it would be prudent to introduce yourself, Bubbles."

He didn't have to see it to know. Hermione's natural curiosity perked up and she looked down at the bemoaning teddy bear, her voice soft, almost drifting, as if she were forcing her way through the confusion to follow the path he'd laid for her. "Who's Bubbles?"

Suddenly the little pink teddy stiffened. It's back straightened, its fur seemed to bristle a bit more, and as the tiny paws moved away from its eyes, Severus could see that the color had changed from golden to silver. In a very dignified and arrogant tone, the little bear now spoke. "I madam, am Bubbles, and you are most certainly more of a pest than you're worth." And with that, Bubbles left the room.

It was silent for a long time as Hermione continued to stare at the spot where Bubbles has been standing. But the silence was thick, filled with confusing and heavy with worry. Severus cleared his throat, and watched Hermione's head jerk up to look at him. He needed to focus her attention, and so with a quick change of both voice and posture, he was once again the teacher, and she the student. "Bubbles and Spike are the same being. A.present from Dumbledore when I was still a student here. You've no doubt noted that Spike is rather.friendly, while Bubbles is not." Hermione nodded, just a fraction of an inch. And then she was nodding full force, as if her body had accepted there would be no resolution to what had transpired, as if she knew she could not ever again speak of what had happened.

He had not felt such pain since Mellisson's death. Taking a deep breath, he called into the other room hoping to distract them both, his voice harsh and cold as Professor Snape's should be. "Spike, come back in here and introduce yourself as a decent familiar should!"

"Familiar?" He turned to look at Hermione just as the little bear came back into the room. She appeared grounded now. Her eyes no longer held that passion glazed look and her posture was more formal and cold. But to his relief, there was a softness around the edges that had never been there before while she was in his presence; a kind of physical memory of what they shared that she was not quite ready to let go of yet. Instantly, he found himself copying her posture. His shoulders relaxed, his stance became less tense, and he saw her relax further as well, until they were both comfortable again. It seemed so natural now to be with her, to be standing by the fire and looking down at her, swallowed entirely in his shirt. The ache was gone, but the need to hold her was still strong; he contented himself by moving closer to her as she continued. "I thought there were only four kinds of familiars," she asked quietly, "owls, toads, cats, and bats?"

He nodded as he moved to sit in the chair facing the fireplace, relieved when she turned on the couch to face him more fully. She seemed a bit nervous, as if she expected him to yell at her, and Severus realized that in his Professor persona, he most likely would. But that wasn't going to happen this time or ever again. She was special to him, important as no woman had been in many, many years. It was time to be Severus the man, at least with her; with her, he could be something more, for her, he'd try.

Spike came bounding into the room, nearly skipping, and he watched worriedly as Hermione withdrew a bit into the couch at the sight. He decided to ignore her withdrawal for the moment and focused on answering her question. There was no malice in his voice as he spoke, only a soft, gentle desire to impart knowledge to her; and he watched Hermione respond to it like a flower taking its first rays of sunlight. "That is true. The standard familiars for Hogwarts are those four creatures, but upper level wizards can charm just about anything to become a familiar." He bend down to pick up Spike, letting his fingers scratch that spot just behind its left ear that made the little creature purr like a cat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione crack a smile, her eyes lighting with an inner glow, whether from his lack of usual gruffness or because of Spike, Severus didn't know. He looked over at her as he continued. "As a student, I had no familiar. Albus thought that.quite a waste. He enchanted this fellow to keep me company." He smiled down at his familiar. "Over the years, it grew to take on the personality of its owner, hence Bubbles."

The color of the bear's eyes changed, but Bubbles continued to sit in Severus's lap, allowing itself to be scratched.

"So," He turned to look at Hermione, that curiosity that was so much a part of her, twinkling in her eyes. "So, Spike is an enchanted teddy bear given to you by Dumbledore, and Bubbles is the result of you being its master." He nodded. "So, why did it pick Bubbles as its name?" She asked in genuine curiosity.

Bubbles, suddenly taking interest in the conversation, turned to offer her a glare. "My name is no business of yours, you silly girl! You shouldn't even be here! You're a million times more trouble than your worth, and I know that multiple is going to continue to increase!" It huffed as Severus took the side of his finger and bopped the bear on its sensitive nose. "Ow!"

"Behave." He said, offering his friend a withering glare that had the bear grumbling. He looked up at Hermione and opened his mouth, before closing it suddenly. He paused, realizing he had been about to call her Hermione. No, he decided, it was too soon for either one of them to be that informal, far too soon to confuse her further. "Miss Granger is our guest, and you will treat her accordingly." He gave his familiar a knowing look and with another huff, Spike was back, while Hermione smiled strangely at the word "guest".

"Oh, we'll be extra special nice to her Severus, promise, promise, promise!" Spike turned to gift Hermione with a smiling mouth of needle sharp teeth. "I think she deserves extra tight huggles! First, I'll huggle her, and then Bubbles can huggle her, and then you can huggle her, Sev--" The rest of the sentence was muffled as Severus wrapped his hand around its mouth.

He was used to Spike and its insane desire to huggle everyone and everything. But a quick look at Hermione had shown her to have suddenly gone quite pale, and he grew instantly alert. "Miss Granger?" When she didn't answer, he rose, set Spike down, and crossed to sit beside her on the couch, the need to touch and comfort her, a driving force.

But she continued to stare at Spike who sat bewildered on the chair cushion. "Are you alright?" He asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and started when she jerked around to look up at him with her wide chocolate eyes.

"I.I dreamed your familiar ate my hand." She paused gathering her thoughts as she shook her head. "I hadn't even seen it before, and yet I saw it clearly. Needle sharp teeth." She paused, drawing in a deep breath. "I went to pet it because it was so cute, and then," she shuddered, "it took my hand right off." He watched her cradling her right hand protectively.

"OH NO!" Spike cried, jumping off the chair and racing over to the couch before Severus could comment. "No, no, no, the pretty lady can't think mean things about Spike. Spike would never eat the pretty lady's hands! Severus, pick me up so I can give her a huggle. I don't want her scared of me!" A moment later the teddy bear was situated in Severus's lap. It extended its paw to lightly touch Hermione's knee. "Spike is very gentle. It likes kids, and lollypops, jellybeans, and especially pretty ladies! Even Bubbles is nice too, even if it is grouchy sometimes. Bubbles would never hurt the pretty lady, never! Spike and Bubbles are loyal to Severus, and we never, ever get any guests. I promise, promise, promise, Spike and Bubbles will never, ever eat your hands, or your feet! Cross my heart and hope to never get another huggle for the rest of my animation!" And it did just that, took one gray on pink paw and crossed the embroidered red heart on its chest before bending over and latching itself to Hermione's bent knee in a rather lame attempt at a huggle.

A moment later, Severus knew everything was going to be alright.

Hermione giggled, the color coming into her cheeks again. "Thank you, Spike. I don't know why I had that dream, but it's a relief to know that if I pet you, you won't try to eat me."

"Oh no! Spike would never try to eat you for petting me. But, um, if you want to pet me," If a stuffed animal could look sheepish, this one did. "Could you scratch me behind my left ear, I can't ever reach it. See?" Spike tried to scratch, but it was obvious its paw was just too short. "My right paw's longer than my left one, so I can scratch that ear, but this one is silly. Not even Bubbles can reach it, only Severus can, but sometimes, he's too busy."

Slowly, still a bit hesitant, Hermione extended her hand out to lightly touch Spike's head. Immediately the familiar began to purr, and Severus watched Hermione smile as she flexed her fingertips just behind Spike's ear.

Again the silence stretched on, this time interrupted by the sounds of Spike's purrs; but unlike before, there was no tension in the room, and Severus stared openly at Hermione as she concentrated on reaching just the right spot to send Spike into a fit of contentment.

If he thought she was beautiful asleep, she was gorgeous awake, vibrant and alive as she smiled down at the little creature. He'd known she'd like Spike and even Bubbles, Hermione was the type to adore small creatures. He'd seen that first hand in her one woman campaign to bring justice to the house elves, and he heard in the staff room, Hagrid praise her work with all kinds of magical creatures.

The more time he spent with her, the more he realized, he didn't want her to leave; and that was precisely why he stood up, and moved to the fireplace. With a flick of his wrist, the small wooden box on the mantel opened, and he reached inside to grab a handful of green floo powder.

"Kitchens." He called before sticking his head into the now green flames. He watched as the Hogwarts kitchens came into focus and Dobby the house elf Potter had freed from Malfoy came into view.

"Good evening, Professor. Can Dobby be bringing you a nice bit of supper for the evening, Sir?" Severus had to admit, his own estate was run almost completely with the aid of these tiny creatures, and yet it had taken Hermione to show him how mistreated they'd been even on his liberal estate. Now most of his old house elves resided at Hogwarts, and he nodded to a few of them as they acknowledged his presence.

"Please; and bring enough for two, I have company this evening."

Dobby nodded. "Yes, Sir, professor. Dobby will be bringing the very bests from tonight's feast, he will." And with that the little elf scurried off to get started.

Pulling out of the fireplace, Severus turned to find Hermione staring at him, Spike forgotten in her lap. She stared at him for what seemed like a lifetime, and he could do nothing but stare back at her, caught up in the ability to look at her once again.

Finally she cleared her throat and ducked her head, a light blush coloring her features as she resuming her ministrations against Spikes coat. "I'm to eat dinner with you then?"

Severus breathed a mental sigh of relief, this question he could handle. "It is rather late, Miss Granger, and you've missed dinner. I assumed you'd be hungry."

He watched her nod her head. "A little. May I use your bathroom?"

Nodding he pointed at the door behind the couch. "Through there. It's the door on the left in the bedroom."

Bedroom.

He felt her heart jump at the word, felt it because his own heart did the same thing. His hand came up to the mantel for support as her eyes shot to his, held his as he held hers. Tension filled the room again, thick and heavy as it trapped the both of them.

Finally she nodded and rose. With one final pet, she set Spike on the couch and moved away from him. The black silk of the shirt she wore caught in the firelight, reflecting golden hughes in the shadows of her hidden figure. Black against creamy white, her legs were perfection as she moved away from him. He watched her hesitate at the threshold, debating with herself as her heart beat wildly in her chest. He could almost hear her mental conversation. This was his room, his domain, did she have any right to enter? Hermione was the type to respect privacy; she was wary to enter his most personal space. The parlor was safe, but a bedroom held so many more secrets. Then with the tiniest nod of her head, she entered and softly shut the door behind her.

With a shake of his own head he walked back to his chair and fell into it. Leaning forward he allowed his head to fall into his hands. What in the blood hell was he going to do now?

He heard the pop a second before the old and yet cheerful voice. "Ah, Severus, there you are. We were beginning to worry you'd fallen into one of those rather large cauldrons of yours and couldn't get out."

With annoyance Severus looked up at the glowing green face of Albus Dumbledore. "I should be so lucky." He groused, leaning back into the chair, feeling it mold around him.

Albus chuckled. "My dear boy, always such an optimist. I was hoping you could help me with a little problem that's suddenly been brought to my attention." Instantly alert, Severus leaned forward to catch all the details. He should have known better as his mentor struggled to prevent the smile from taking over his jolly face.

"It seems that there was a little tussle outside the potions classroom this afternoon, and Miss Granger has somehow managed to disappear. While it is true that the floors have been known to swallow the children on occasion, they are usually fairly good about spitting them back up around dinner time. But I now find that dinner is hours past, and Miss Granger has yet to make a soggy appearance anywhere. Then there was the rather furious Sirius Black who only minutes ago was persuaded to leave my office without hunting you down like.well, a dog. Something about you carrying our missing student off to your cave while spouting poetry. You wouldn't know anything about this, now would you Severus?"

First, he was going to kill Black, then he was going to kill Albus, and then, just for good measure, he really was going to carry Hermione off to a cave spouting poetry--though he doubted she'd like the idea very much. Leaning back again, he addressed his mentor. "Miss Granger was injured during an unauthorized duel this afternoon. As my quarters were closer than the medical wing, I took her here to administer treatment. She awoke only a little while ago, and as she has missed dinner by hours, I've called into the kitchens for supper. Further, I have disciplined those in the duel and will issue Miss Granger her punishment once she's eaten, before sending her back to Gryffindor Tower." There, perfectly logical!

"Ah yes, very good Severus." And then that insane grin was back, brightening Dumbledore's face so that his eyes twinkled from some inner light. "Is it safe to assume that Miss Granger will be receiving yet another weeks worth of detention.with you, of course?"

Damn the man for seeing more than anyone should! With teeth on edge, Severus spoke. "It was I who was inconvenienced by having to care for her. She'll spend the required detention with me just so I can get myself back onto schedule."

Albus chuckled. "I'm sure it was a terrible inconvenience, Severus." His tone letting them both know what he thought of that flimsy excuse. "Well, as long as she's been found. Please see that she gets back to her room sometime tonight, and I'll inform Minerva that she's in good hands." So with another popping sound, Dumbledore disappeared from the flames.

He couldn't help it, his sigh turned into a growl.

Spike looked up at him from the couch. "Spike thinks that its creator is very, very clever, not to mention huggle worthy!" And the little bear hugged itself for lack of a partner.

Severus just shook his head before dropping it back into his hands.

A moment later came the arrival of the food, and after giving his thanks to the three house elves that brought in what couldn't be anything but a complete sample of everything offered at the meal, he arranged the food on the table situated behind the couch.

"Wow." He turned slowly, knowing she'd been standing in the doorway for quite a while, just watching him.

"Take a seat, Miss Granger, we have much to discuss." She nodded, approaching the table. Suddenly she stopped, looking around the room for something. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Wasn't-wasn't there a chess board here earlier?" She looked up at him, and for some reason, he felt she desperately wanted the answer to be yes.

He shook his head. "No, the table was empty before the food arrived."

"Oh," and he could hear the strange disappointment and concern. "It must have just been a dream." He waited for her to take a seat before taking his own. "Curious, black was winning, but, but it was obvious white didn't know yet."

He opened his mouth to comment when Spike interrupted. "Spike is hungry!" Came the sudden whine and appearance of Spike sitting on the couch back. "Severus would give Spike yum-yums if he loved it!" And Spike opened its mouth to receive the expected food.

He rolled his eyes as Hermione giggled, and it was the giggle that brought the smile to his face. He watched as she set down her fork and tickled the bear's tummy before selecting a candied cherry off a slice of coconut cake and handing it to tiny paws. In a blink Spike had popped the cherry into its mouth and was presently rolling around making "yum" sounds. Hermione laughed, her whole face lighting up at the sight.

Finally Spike sat up. "Pretty lady, you can come and visit anytime you want! Spike promises to protect you from Bubbles, no missing hands ever! We'll be best friends forever, just like Spike, Bubbles, and Severus! Best friends forever!" And the bear hugged itself again with shear happiness.

Hermione laughed. "Thank you, Spike, but please, call me Hermione from now on. If we're going to befriends, then I must insist."

Spike emphatically nodded its head, and for the rest of the meal, he and Hermione offered Spike bits of food to appease its appetite for all things with sugar.

When all three were full beyond reason Severus sat back and began the conversation he'd dreaded and yet knew had to take place.

"It was a ridiculously foolish thing for you to try and take on five Slytherin at once. Explain your actions." He tried not to sound condescending, but he was still angry with her and himself over what had happened.

She tensed, and yet her muscles weren't as hard as they could have become, her expression not quite as indignant, and he knew she understood that he was being gentle with her. "I didn't do anything. Pansy Parkinson attacked me--an unarmed witch--without so much as an issue of challenge." He looked at her skeptically and she hurried forward. "I was waiting outside for," suddenly she thought better of something, "Morganna, when Malfoy and his gang showed up and started, well, harassing me."

"Harassing you?"

"Yes, harassing me." She tried to rush forward, but he cut her off.

"How exactly where they harassing you? Speak frankly, my judgment rests on it." He needed to know, something in her reluctance told him. She knew better than to pick a fight with a gang of Slytherins. She wouldn't have done it unless she'd been backed against a wall.

Some of the fight left her eyes then and she turned away to look at the fire before dropping her eyes to her hands. "They, they just made a remark about my heritage."

Mudblood. Gods how he hated that word. It made his skin crawl to hear such a backwards term still being used millennia after it had been conceived. As a Death Eater he'd been forced to use it often, and he still felt dirty even thinking the word.

But that couldn't have been it, not all of it. Draco and Pansy had called her that before, and while he knew she'd smacked Draco good for it at least once, she wouldn't have let it cause a duel. There was more to it.

"What else, Miss Granger. I happen to know name calling is not something you take much stock in." He said, giving her a glare of impatience when she again delayed.

With a sigh she nodded before looking down at her hands again. "Pansy just, she just mentioned something unkind about.something that happened to me. It doesn't matter, it was stupid and I overreached." Suddenly the fight was back and she gave him a hard look, daring him to disagree with her and side with his house. "But I didn't pick a fight. Pansy raised her wand and threw the curses at me, I didn't even have my wand!"

"Another stupid thing to do. Hogwarts students are to carry their wands at all times--"

She cut him off. "I was! It was in my satchel, but when she threw the first curse, I had to dive away to avoid it."

"That's no excuse! Ten points from Gryffindor for not having your wand on you." He saw the hurt enter her eyes immediately, but he wasn't going to back down on this. She'd think his assessment of the situation was unfair, but she'd remember to keep her wand on her at all times, and that was what truly mattered. She couldn't be allowed to walk into Slytherin's domain without being prepared, there were too many young Death Eaters trying to make a name for themselves by injuring a friend of Harry Potter's.

"Now," he continued. "Tell me what it was that Miss Parkinson said to you to start this, or believe me, you will not like your punishment at all, Miss Granger."

He expected her to hedge a bit more, but instead, the sound of her name hadn't even died on the air before she threw the answer back at him. "She mentioned Viktor, alright!"

Ignoring the anger and sarcasm he pressed forward. "I see no reason for that to--" He never got a chance to finish.

Tears of frustration filled her eyes, and he saw the pain written clearly across her face as her cheeks flushed and her teeth bit savagely into her lower lip. She turned away from him. "Viktor and I.we were seeing each other last year." She paused and cleared the tears from her throat. "We're not allowed to see each other anymore because.because," her voice caught before a pain filled rage filled her body and voice. "Because I'm a mudblood! Because my parents are muggles! Because my skills aren't enough to prove that I'm a good enough witch! Because he's a pure blood, and his mom doesn't want anything to mess up their perfect family tree!"

Her pain was like a living thing inside him. She ached knowing that to some her own accomplishments meant nothing, that in the end, it would all come down to lineage and no amount of studying would ever give her that. It was the burning that came from knowing that no matter how good she was, there would always be those that diminished her credits because she was a first generation witch. He was familiar with her pain, Lily had felt the same way. He sometimes wondered if she fell so deeply for Potter because of his lineage, because by marrying him she could secure the backing of a pureblood family. No, he amended, Lily loved James regardless, but it would have been something she at least let swim through her mind once or twice.

"Miss Granger," she looked up at him, startled by the compassion in his voice; and it was compassion, he understood her, and his voice told her as much. "School regulations state than an unauthorized duel is grounds for dismissal, with a minimum punishment of a weeks detention. Therefore it is with reluctance that I issue you a weeks worth of detention." She tried to protest but he held up his hand to stall her. "Rest assured that Miss Parkinson will be spending the next month with Filch, while you will be learning how to brew a few much needed medical potions for Madam Pomphrey."

Her startlement was obvious. "Medical potions?"

He nodded before rising from the table. "Now, it's late. You are dismissed from today's introductory paper on memory potions, though I expect you to be caught up on the readings before our next class. Your detentions will begin this Saturday. Do you have any questions?" Dumbly, she shook her head. "Very good. Then you are--"

"Um, Professor?" He looked down at her to continue. "Um, how exactly am I supposed to get back to the Tower?" And then with a dramatic sweep of her hand, she pointed out her current unacceptable attire.

He considered for a second that she seemed rather comfortable standing in a silk shirt and little else before him, but he commanded himself not to dwell on it as he moved to the fireplace. With a flick of his wrist he gripped his wand and muttered a few passwords, and a redirctional charm. His fireplace flashed with a sudden burst of light, and then he turned back to her, indicating the hearth.

"Your room has been added to the Hogwarts floo network. You may leave through here." He didn't stop to think how much easier it would have been to have just transfigured her some clothing, he knew the real reason he'd added her room to the network, and right now he didn't want to analyze that particular slip.

She nodded, approaching the fireplace as he grabbed a hand full of floo powder and threw it into the blaze, turning the flames green.

One hand on the mantel to assist her into the blaze, her face was aglow with flames that did nothing but highlight her best features, and turn her eyes the most compelling shade he'd seen in many years. The silk was riding high, the tails just barely covering her most intimate parts with her hand raised so high. But she was unconscious of the pose she had taken, her eyes filled with warmth.

"Thank you for helping me, and for understanding. I.I really appreciate it. I.didn't expect you to understand or.or to help me."

He couldn't help it. His hand came down to touch her shoulder, and later he realized he'd touched more skin than silk. "You're welcome. Now go to bed, it's late." She nodded before offering him a slow smile, one not at all fit for general use. His hand slipped to her lower back as he helped guide her into the flame as she stated her destination.

And then she was gone, her secretive smile with her.

He turned back to the room he'd had for the last fifteen years at Hogwarts.

Without her here, it was suddenly much colder.