Chapter Five

Severus stepped out of the shower and into the white-tiled bathroom. He dried quickly and impersonally, shoving thoughts of his dream to the very back of his mind.

Once he was in the bedroom, he pulled on clean shorts and began combing out his wet hair, yanking the comb through the tangles, and then performed a drying spell on it; if it was left to air-dry it would still be damp by lunchtime due to its thickness. He thought back to his days as a Hogwarts student, when he had taken special care of his thick black hair during his sixth and seventh years. He'd finally gotten fed up with taking crap from James Potter and his gang of goody-goody Gryffindors, and decided to do something about it. He started using special potions for his greasy skin and hair, buying new, more fashionable robes, going to Quidditch matches. He actually became quite popular, achieving prefect status his sixth year, even going on a few dates with some of the prettier Slytherin girls.

Now, of course, it didn't matter what he looked like. He was just the greasy old Potions Master, and that suited him fine. It was more than he deserved.

He dressed in his usual: white button-down shirt and black trousers under a perfectly-tailored black robe. This one was his favourite; it had at least two dozen ebony buttons ringed in silver down the front, and emerald cufflinks that sparkled nicely in the dungeon torchlight. It took forever to get on and off unless he used magic.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was closing his front door behind himself and striding up the stairs to the main floor. Damn! he thought. He'd wanted to call a house elf and have breakfast in his own rooms, but it was too late; Madam Hooch had spotted him. How he loathed that woman.

"Severus old boy, how are you?" she boomed from the top of the stairs. "Haven't seen you up at breakfast in a while. Decided to ascend to the land of the living?" She guffawed, yellow hawk-eyes crinkling at the corners.

The Potions Master had now reached the top of the staircase and was working on coming up with a biting response when she caught his upper arm and held onto it like it was a bucking broomstick. "Up to breakfast we go, then!"

Severus tried to extricate his arm from the grip of the flying instructor, but it was no use. Trying words instead of force, he said icily, "I'd rather take a stroll with a Dementor than attend breakfast with a bunch of overenthusiastic teenagers and surly, barely-awake professors. Kindly release my arm and allow me to partake of my meal in the peace of my own rooms."

"Nonsense!" Hooch replied, still grinning. "We're nearly there." To his dismay, Severus saw that they were, indeed, walking through the massive doorway to the Great Hall. "It's a Hogsmeade visit today; can't you just feel the excitement, old boy?"

He was about to reply that no, he couldn't feel any excitement, he could just hear the din of hundreds of adolescents, and he was not an "old boy" but she had plunked him down in a chair at the end of the head table before he could say a word. "Are you satisfied, Rolanda?" he growled.

"Oh, call me Hooch, you know I hate my first name."

"I know," Severus muttered, grabbing a piece of toast.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, Rolanda." Sufficiently annoyed, Hooch stalked off to the other end of the table to take a seat next to Professor Flitwick. Thank Merlin, thought Severus. Now I can relax.

Unfortunately, he couldn't. Hermione Granger had just walked into the Great Hall with Potter and Weasley. He followed her progress across the huge room, but instead of seeing her in the casual Muggle clothes most students favored for the weekend, he saw her as in his dream last night: naked and writhing and…

Stop it, Severus! he berated himself. It never happened. It was a dream. It didn't happen. It was a dream brought on by too much potion. He couldn't get rid of that gnawing hole of guilt in his heart, though, no matter how much he told himself the dream wasn't real.

She took a seat at the Gryffindor table, the boys to her left, and poured herself a cup of tea. Severus tore his eyes from the girl and forced himself to focus on his breakfast. Two five-minute eggs had just appeared in a small cup on his plate (Those house-elves really know what they're doing, he thought) when Albus walked by. "Ah, Severus," he said stopping behind the Potions Master's chair. "Nice to see you up and about the castle this early. On a weekend, too."

"I was accosted by Madam Hooch. She literally dragged me here," Severus growled, not looking up from his eggs.

"Not kicking and screaming, I hope?" Dumbledore was smiling.

"No."

"Did you sleep well?" Albus continued. Severus forced himself not to shudder at the thought of last night.

"I slept fine," he lied.

"Any big plans for the day?" That man can not take a hint! Severus thought.

"The cupboards in my classroom need to be restocked, and I thought I'd catch up on my reading."

"Sounds delightful." With that, the headmaster finally left him in peace. He gulped down his eggs as quickly as he could without drawing undue attention; he was eager to retreat to the peace of his dungeon sanctuary and busy himself with work so his thoughts wouldn't drive him mad. A commotion from the students' tables drew his notice as he was about to leave. Immediately, he spotted Potter and Malfoy, their faces inches apart, wands drawn, shouting at each other. Severus swept down to where they stood near the Gryffindor table. He saw, to his mixed relief and annoyance, that neither of the boys had been hit with any hexes. "Explain," he commanded.

Potter and Draco started talking at the same time. Weasley chimed in too, adding to the din. Miss Granger said nothing, but she looked furious. "Silence!" shouted Severus. Not only did the three boys in front of him stop talking, but so did half of the Great Hall. That was fine with him. He was getting a headache.

"Now. Mr. Malfoy. What happened?"

"I was leaving the Great Hall," said Draco, "and made a casual remark to these three on my way out, when—"

"Liar!" shouted Potter. The stupid boy could never control his temper. "Malfoy came right over and insulted Hermione! He—"

"Mr. Potter, I did not address you when I asked for an explanation. I addressed Mr. Malfoy. Continue," he said to Draco.

"As I was saying, sir… I made a remark to these three on my way out and Potter jumped up and started shouting that he was going to hex me. I had to draw my wand to defend myself, sir." Severus turned to regard Potter and Weasley, who were still standing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco make a face at the Gryffindors. Granger sat silently, glaring at Draco. Severus stared at her, forgetting himself. All he could see was her rosy mouth open, panting, revealing perfectly straight white teeth and a tantalizing tongue… The hole in his heart grew. He felt ill.

"Professor Snape?" she asked. He was yanked back to reality. "Are you alright?"

"I am perfectly well, thank you, Miss Granger," he said as coldly as he could manage. Even he could tell his tone wasn't nearly up to his usual standards. He just couldn't bring himself to reply to her so harshly. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for fighting in the Great Hall." Potter merely glared at him. "And ten more points for you, Mr. Weasley."

"But I didn't do anything!" the red-haired boy protested.

"You just talked back to a professor," said Severus, watching the boy's face turn red.

"That's not f—" he began, but Granger elbowed him in the ribs and he shut up.

"Now, if your little display of testosterone is over," Severus said, noticing the boys had the decency to look at least a little ashamed, "get out of my sight." Quickly the students left the Great Hall, a wide space between Draco and the three Gryffindors. Severus strode out after them, in a slightly better mood now that he'd actually yelled at someone instead of keeping it trapped inside like he'd been doing all morning. He still needed something for his headache, though.

Hermione had woken early, too early for a Saturday. Knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, she rubbed her eyes in the dark of six in the morning. Crookshanks opened one eye, glared at her, and went back to sleep on the pillow next to her head. "So sorry for waking you, your majesty," she whispered to the cat. She swung her legs out of bed and into her slippers and grabbed her robe as she went out the door towards the common room.

The fire was still burning, giving the room a comfortable light and warmth. She settled into her favorite armchair by the fireplace and stared into the flames for a while. Still, unfortunately, wide awake, she took her wand from her robe pocket. "Accio Jane Eyre," she said, and a few moments later the paperback landed in her lap. She adored the story of Jane, who secretly loved her master, Rochester, but the cold man treated her indifferently for ages. Her favourite part was when he finally proposed to Jane. She had actually cried for joy the first time she read it.

All too soon, students were up and about, bustling around getting ready for the day at Hogsmeade. Hermione used a bit of paper torn from a discarded essay in the waste bin as a bookmark and went back up to her room to get dressed.

It was cold and snowy today, not at all unusual for mid-January at Hogwarts. She put on black jeans and tucked them into snow boots, then a tank top under a t-shirt and over that her light blue Weasley sweater. She hadn't brought her winter coat from home because the gray wool cloak she'd gotten a few years ago in Diagon Alley was even warmer. Also, she didn't feel comfortable going into an entirely non-Muggle village wearing entirely Muggle clothing; the cloak was pure wizard, and made her feel more at ease with all the witches and wizards around town.

Lavender and Parvati talked non-stop while they got dressed, and though Hermione wasn't interested in the topic of conversation (cosmetic charms), she did wish just a little bit that she had a girlfriend or two to talk with. Harry and Ron were great, of course, but they were… well, boys. And Ginny was nice, but she was a year younger than Hermione and had her own group of friends. Oh well, she thought slinging her cloak over her arm. She grabbed her scarf, hat and gloves out of her dresser and headed down to breakfast.

Ron and Harry were waiting for her in the common room. "What're you loaded down with all that for?" Ron asked.

"I didn't want to come back up here and get it after breakfast. We are going to Hogsmeade after we eat, right?"

"Oh yeah," said Ron. "Harry, let's go get our stuff too." Hermione waited while the boys ran up to their room to grab their cloaks, then they were off to the Great Hall. As they entered, Hermione felt a weird sensation on the back of her neck—like someone was watching her—but when she looked around she didn't notice anyone staring at her. She sat down and poured herself some tea and felt it again, but once more, she didn't see anyone looking at her, not even at the head table. She shrugged and continued eating breakfast in silence, the boys to her left avidly debating the merits of the old Firebolt broomstick compared to the newest model, the Firebolt 3000. Ron, Seamus and Dean were absorbed in the conversation, but Harry stayed on the edges. He seemed exhausted. Hermione assumed the long holiday without any company had taken its toll on him. He would be fine soon enough.

As she and her friends were finishing their meal, Draco Malfoy sauntered over, his "bodyguards" Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle curiously absent from their usual posts at his back.

"Morning, Gryffindorks," he sneered.

"Where're your goons today, Malfoy?" asked Harry, fingers already hovering over his wand. Hermione tensed. She had a feeling this would not end well.

"Both in the hospital wing. They came down with some mysterious illness a few days ago."

"Pity," said Ron breezily. Next to him Ginny started choking on her milk and he patted her on the back in a brotherly way.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" asked Harry. He was gripping his wand under the table now. Calm down, Harry, Hermione thought. Just ignore him. It's not a big deal… yet.

"Oh, I was just wondering how Granger's enjoying her detentions. She's been getting a lot lately." Hermione stiffened.

"She's only ever had two," Ron said, face already flushing. "How many have you had, ferret?"

"Too many, and all of them thanks to you!" Yep, there goes that muscle in his jaw, Hermione thought, watching it twitch at the use of his nickname. She smiled.

"What are you grinning at, Mudblood? I thought your grandmother just died." Harry leapt to his feet, Ron right beside him. Malfoy ignored them both and leaned down into Hermione's face. She willed herself to stay seated, to keep her hands in her lap. Hitting Malfoy back in their third year had felt great, but the only reason she had done it was because there was no one around. As much as she longed to hit him again right now, she couldn't, not in the middle of the Great Hall.

"She was a filthy Muggle just like your parents," he whispered, his face inching toward her own. "Good riddance, I say."

That was too much for Harry. He jumped in between Malfoy and Hermione, brandishing his wand like the very sword of Godric Gryffindor. "Shut up!" he yelled. "Leave her alone!"

Malfoy stepped back and removed his own wand from his pocket. "Make me."

"I'd love to Malfoy, you know I would," Harry said, teeth clenched. Hermione gripped the edges of the bench. "I'd love to end it all, right now. Just give me a reason."

"Touching, Potter, really," Malfoy said, stepping closer to Harry. "Defending the lady's honor and all that. I could just about puke."

"I'm warning you… one more word and I'll hex you into next…" He trailed off as a familiar black-clad figure strode into view.

"Explain," said Professor Snape. How does he always manage to show up when Harry and Malfoy are fighting? Hermione wondered. He always arrives just in time to save his precious Slytherin's hide and get Harry in trouble. She was still furious at him about last night.

Harry and Malfoy started talking at the same time, and Ron jumped in too. "Silence!" shouted the professor. Half the Great Hall stopped talking. He looked around menacingly, as if daring anyone else to put one toe out of line. Turning back to the three boys in front of him, he told Malfoy to explain. The boy told his version of the story, which Harry of course protested vehemently.

While Malfoy was talking, Professor Snape got a strange look in his eyes, a mix of hunger and deep sorrow, as he stared at Hermione. She looked back at him, but he seemed not to see her. It was as if he were somewhere else. She felt that strange sensation on the back of her neck again, but she could see no one watching her when she whipped her head around. She asked Professor Snape if he was feeling alright and he yelled at her, but without his usual coldness and sarcasm. Odd, she thought. What's wrong with him?

The confrontation ended with the Potions Master unfairly taking twenty points from Gryffindor and ordering them all out of the Great Hall. Ron muttered horrible things under his breath as Harry glared at Malfoy and patted Hermione's arm comfortingly.

"Don't let them get to you," he said. "They're idiots. Malfoy and Snape."

"I know, Harry. Believe me, I know. I almost wish you had hexed him. Both of them."

"So do I!" Harry used a few words Hermione didn't like to hear her friend say, but at the moment, she happened to agree. She, Ron and Harry put on their cloaks and things and went out into the swirling snow towards Hogsmeade. Filch was checking off names on a list, making sure that only the students with parental permission were leaving the grounds. (For the third year in a row, Dumbledore had accepted the "permission slip" Harry's late godfather, Sirius, had signed as sufficient to allow him off the grounds.) Filch eyed them suspiciously, but allowed them through the gates, the winged boars on the posts covered in ice and snow.

Hermione breathed deeply; she was glad to be out of the castle for the day. Ron and Harry were going on about Quidditch as usual, so she tuned them out and listened instead to the wind rattling the branches on the bare, frost-covered trees and the crunch of her boots in the deep snow. Yes, it was nice to be out, even if her fingers were already almost numb. She liked the way snowflakes caught in her hair and how the chill made her cheeks flush pink; she thought it would make her look romantic. If I had anyone to appreciate that kind of thing. Sometimes she missed Viktor, his sweetness and gentleness. She missed having a boyfriend, period. Stop it, she told herself. She wrapped her scarf tighter and pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to dwell on anything depressing on a day of crisp, white freedom like this one.

"Where shall we go first?" asked Harry when they arrived at Hogsmeade, breaking Hermione out of her thoughts. "We're meeting Ginny and Neville at The Three Broomsticks for lunch, but that's not 'til later."

"I want to stop by and see Fred and George before we go back," said Ron, "but that can wait too."

"Well," began Hermione, "I know you two will want to go to the Quidditch shop. I can kill some time in the bookstore while you're in there. And then shall we go to Honeydukes before lunch?" Normally they would've visited Zonko's Joke Shop as well, but quite a few Hogwarts students who knew the Weasley twins from school had unofficially boycotted Zonko's in favor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Sounds good," Harry said, already backing away towards Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Meet you at Honeydukes in an hour!" Ron called over his shoulder. He and Harry were already sprinting to their favourite store. Hermione sighed and smiled at her best friends, then walked briskly to her favourite store: Lady Tohmala's Books.

Lady Tohmala's wasn't nearly as impressive as Flourish and Blott's bookstore in Diagon Alley; F&B had a coffee and tea bar, stylish modern moving paintings on the walls, and everything seemed brand new and sparkling. Lady Tohmala's was an old house that had been converted into a bookstore. It was two stories high with a basement for storage and a tiny attic room. The checkout counter was the breakfast bar in the kitchen, and Lady Tohmala herself, a kind woman with long gray hair she wore in a braid down her back, gave out free mugs of hot tea for her customers to sip as they browsed the shelves. The carpets were old and worn, and every room was so full of bookshelves there was no place to hang even one painting. The attic was full of comfy, broken-in armchairs and low tables with lamps on them. Hermione liked to go up there with her tea and a book and read until she lost track of time. The best thing was that Lady Tohmala didn't mind if you were in there for hours without buying a thing.

Hermione was happily ensconced upstairs with a cup of Earl Grey and a copy of An Anthology of Nineteenth-Century Charms when the grandfather clock in the corner struck eleven. It had been an hour and a half since she'd left the boys! Tucking her wand back into her pocket (she'd been practicing the wand movements for an unbuttoning spell; apparently Victorian robes had had a lot of buttons), she rose and took her mug and book with her. After replacing the book on its shelf and returning the mug to a smiling Lady Tohmala, she hurried out into the street. The sun was shining now, but clouds loomed all around the edges of town. She thought there might be a blizzard tonight.

I bet the boys haven't even noticed the time, she thought. She peeked in the windows of Honeydukes, but they weren't in there. Of course. When she arrived at Quality Quidditch Supplies, she found Ron and Harry talking to Oliver Wood. The former Gryffindor Quidditch team captain had been playing in the minor leagues since he graduated four years ago and was regaling her friends with tales of his many matches as a keeper.

"You were supposed to meet me half an hour ago," scolded Hermione after they said goodbye to Oliver. She wasn't really angry, but she had to make them feel a little guilty for forgetting.

"Well, I notice you didn't come looking for us!" said Ron.

"Hermione, you just got caught up reading, right?" asked Harry, ever the peace-maker. Hermione nodded. "And you know Ron and I lose track of time in here. So shall we go?" They went back out into the chilly sunshine. Ron elbowed her on their way out the door, smiling. She elbowed him back and giggled. He shoved her, playfully but hard, and she fell on her side in the foot-deep snow, laughing her head off. Harry stood to the side chuckling.

"Oh, you're going to get it!" she shouted, struggling to get up.

"Really?" Ron asked, scooping up a handful of snow. "I'm sooo scared." He packed it into a large ball as Hermione stood, but she ducked when he threw it and it sailed over her head. "Uh-oh," Ron said putting on a fake expression of terror as Hermione made a snowball. She raised her arm to throw it, paused, then turned and pelted Harry right in the chest.

"Alright," Harry yelled running to tackle her, "this means war!"

Fifteen minutes later, soaking wet and freezing but still giggling, the three of them entered the warmth and sweetness of Honeydukes. They each bought a Roasted Marshmallow first, which warmed them all the way to their toes as they walked around the sweets shop. Harry got a bag of Pepper Imps and he and Ron blew fire back and forth across the shop at each other. Hermione wasn't overly fond of sweets (having grown up with dentist parents, she wasn't allowed them often), but her one weakness was chocolate. She didn't care about the chocolate frogs that came with collectable cards, but she did buy a few blocks of various types of chocolate; mint-chocolate, fudge with walnuts, and her favourite, plain dark chocolate. Ron got a couple Fizzing Whizbees and ate one on the way to The Three Broomsticks. He levitated a few inches above the snow so Harry and Hermione each took an end of his scarf and dragged him along.

When they got to the pub Ginny and Neville were already there. The five Gryffindors decided soup sounded good on a cold day like this, and Madam Rosmerta, the hostess, took their orders right away. Hermione relaxed and drank in the sight of her friends by the warm glow of the fireplace, the smell of the various soups around the scrubbed wooden table, the laughter. I wish this day would last for a very long time, she thought.

Instead of going straight down to his dungeon rooms after leaving breakfast, Severus went first to the hospital wing to get a dose of headache cure from Madam Pomfrey. "Why don't you take the whole bottle, Severus, you've been needing it a lot lately," she said. He accepted a full bottle of the clear pink liquid from the mediwitch with a simple "Thank you" as he noticed Crabbe and Goyle lying silently in cots further down the wall. No big loss there, he thought. He didn't tell her how grateful he was that she'd given him the whole bottle since his own had just run completely out, but he was appreciative. Sleep deprivation did horrible things to his head. He still wasn't sleeping well because of his nightmares, and then last night… was not exactly restful

He arrived at his door and said the passwords to disarm the wards he kept on it, and then reactivated them as soon as the door was shut behind him. Severus sank into his chair by the fire and summoned a measuring spoon from the bottom drawer of his potions cabinet, but as he was about to pour the potion into the spoon, he noticed the label on the bottle. "Headache Cure, Jan. 12" it said in oddly familiar printing. He studied the label a moment more before he recognized it. Hermione Granger made this!

The thought shocked him back to memories of his dream. Apparently pleasant dreams meant… well… Oh just say it! Sexual!

Disgusted, Severus threw down the spoon, leapt out of his chair and began pacing the length of his living room, desk to doorway, desk to doorway. The headache cure potion he'd almost taken wasn't even her best work! He knew it, too, he was the one who'd inspected it. He glared at the bottle still clenched in his hand. It wasn't exactly the right shade of pink and it smelled slightly sweeter than it should. Sure, her burn-healing paste was perfect and the memory charm she'd made a few weeks prior to that was amazing, but… Well actually, she was quite excellent at brewing potions, he had to admit.

But that was no excuse! No excuse for what, exactly? he wondered.

Shut up, he replied. Dumbledore had said all her professors should write her letters of recommendation for university, but why should he? She'd shouted at him during her detention in his own classroom! He hadn't retaliated, though, because… well, he just hadn't yet. He should! I will! I'll give her another detention. No, detention every week for a month! But that means I'll have to put up with her more. Annoying little Gryffindor… I could use her potions-brewing skill, though. Detentions it is!

Although… he didn't really want to give a girl with such a perfect record more detentions. All professors knew that the only records to go on to University were the grades of the students, not detentions, sick days or anything else… but still. He really would like her to make potions for him, though; she did have talent. Let's see… Think, Severus! Extra credit project? She doesn't need it. Aha! I know! It was a perfect idea. That way she'll make the potions Madam Pomfrey asks for, as well as the ones I use, and I'll have more time to grade papers and read. Excellent. And I'll get to be with her more. Not that I'd want to, really. She's a Gryffindor and a student. Just for the sake of… observing her skills, yes.

Oh, come on, said the voice in the very back of his brain that tried to convince him to do things that would end badly. You know you want to be near her. Ever since that first detention you've been thinking about her.

Shut up! the front of his brain responded. But he was listening.

You want to watch her hands, the skill with which they handle the ingredients and tools. You want to be near her and watch her. Anyway, you get so little real pleasure in your life; why deny yourself this simple, innocent little thing? Nothing will happen. You'll just watch her.

Indeed… Severus thought, almost feeling her breath on his cheek, her body pressed urgently against his. He set the bottle down absently. Alright. I'll talk to her when she gets back from Hogsmeade.

And that was that.

After lunch, Hermione watched as Ginny quickly kissed Neville goodbye. Harry and Ron made faces and Neville blushed, then the girls went off to Gladrags Wizardwear and the boys went back to the Quidditch shop. Hermione smiled at the couple's little display of affection. They'd started dating early last school year; Neville worshiped the ground Ginny walked on and did anything she asked, and she thought he was the sweetest person in the world.

"Is that the bracelet Neville got you for Christmas?" Hermione asked, spotting a glint of silver on the other girl's wrist.

"Yes," said Ginny, holding out her arm so Hermione could admire the charm bracelet. She positively glowed.

"Very pretty," Hermione said. There were five charms: an owl, a broomstick, a quaffle (Ginny was one of the Gryffindor Chasers this year), a heart and a book.

"The book opens up, see?" Ginny opened the book that was no bigger than her fingernail. Inside it said "I 3 You." "And the owl hoots if you pet it," she said demonstrating.

"How sweet. He's a really nice guy. You two are lucky." Hermione was really happy for them. And not jealous. Not at all jealous.

"I know." Ginny sighed and smiled.

After spending about half an hour browsing in Gladrags, they got the boys from Quality Quidditch and went to see Fred and George at their store. Their business in Diagon Alley had grown too large, and since there weren't any other buildings to rent there they had moved to Hogsmeade last summer. The five friends got to test a new product, Insulting Inkers.

"It looks just like a normal quill. You give it to someone who needs to borrow one, right?" said George.

"But when they use it, it just writes insulting things about the writer," explained Fred.

"Here, try it," said George, handing a pure white quill to Harry.

"My name is Harry Potter," he said writing with it on a scrap of parchment Fred handed him. What ended up on the paper, though, was "Nice scar you have there, four-eyes." Everyone cracked up.

"Let me try it," Ginny said. "Lovely day today," she said as she wrote, but the words on the parchment read "Bugger off, freckle face!"

They all talked with Fred and George and played with the various items in the joke shop for almost an hour before they decided they should get back to Hogwarts.

"Tell Dumbledore we said hello," the twins called out after them.

"We will," Hermione called back. It was cloudy again and starting to snow. By the time they reached the front doors to the castle it was coming down in buckets. They stopped in the entrance hall to stomp the snow off their boots and brush it from their hair and cloaks, chatting noisily. Suddenly a shadow in the corner spoke.

"Miss Granger," it said, stepping forward to reveal itself as Professor Snape. "I'd like a word with you in my office." He turned on his heel and strode towards the dungeons.

Everyone in the entrance hall fell deadly quiet. This is it, Hermione thought. I was wondering how long he'd wait to assign a punishment for what I did last night. I hope it's not too bad. "See you at supper, everyone," she said, putting on a false smile. Harry patted her shoulder, Ginny squeezed her hand, Neville gave her a sympathetic look and Ron mouthed "Good luck" at her before she walked off after the Potions Master. I'm sure I'll need it, she thought.

Severus had been standing in the far corner of the entrance hall for half an hour before Hermione Granger got back from Hogsmeade. He watched out the window on the opposite wall as the snow fell harder and harder and the sunlight dimmed from white-gold to grey. Standing straight and tall for so long hurt his back, so he snapped at passing students, scaring them as he seemingly materialized from the wall. This helped him feel momentarily better.

And then she arrived, laughing and smiling with her friends. There were snowflakes caught in her hair and her cheeks were becomingly flushed from the cold. She looked… romantic, he thought. She really was rather pretty…

"Becomingly?" Get a grip, he told himself.

"Miss Granger," he said, stepping from the shadows. "I'd like a word with you in my office." He turned abruptly and stalked off to his classroom. A moment later he heard her footsteps behind him, but didn't turn around. He unlocked his office with the correct passwords muttered under his breath and preceded her into his classroom. Once they were in his office, he shut the door and told her to take a seat. She sat in the hard wooden chair in front of his desk and he lowered himself into the padded seat behind it. He let her fidget nervously for a moment before beginning.

"Professor Dumbledore informed the staff at our last meeting that it would be beneficial to you if you received letters of recommendation from your professors to bring to University."

"Yes sir, very." She looked confused and fidgeted with her gloves, and then took them off.

"I am unwilling to do so." He watched all the color drain from her face before he went on. "However. If you will come to the Potions classroom Tuesday and Friday nights at seven o'clock from now until the end of school and brew what potions I assign you to my satisfaction, you shall receive your letter."

She chewed on her bottom lip and unwound her scarf, then piled it in her lap with her gloves. "I thought my potions have been dismal." she said. She has some nerve, thought Severus, but couldn't help admiring her for it.

"There is always room for improvement," he said, but caught himself before he added "Hermione." You are not on a first name basis with this girl, he chided himself, and you never will be! Your personal encounter in a dream does not entitle you to that privilege!

"Miss Granger," he said, "you are extremely lucky I didn't report what you did and said last night to Professor Dumbledore." He could tell she dearly wanted to ask why, but thought the better of it. "I should think you would jump at the generous offer I've made you lest I let him know. Do you agree?"

"Yes sir," she said without hesitating, obviously relieved.

"You may go. I will see you in my classroom at exactly seven o'clock Tuesday evening." She hastily gathered her things and rushed out of his office.

There you have it, Severus, he told himself. Your own personal potion-brewer.

Author's Notes: I originally had Hermione reading "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in the morning before breakfast, but I wasn't sure if that was really something she would like. I changed it to Jane Eyre partly because it seemed more "Hermione" to me, and partly for the parallels between the Rochester-Jane relationship and the Severus-Hermione one (sort of). I haven't read the book, only seen the movie, but I loved the movie. Someday I'll read the book. No, really.

This chapter is almost 13 pages in Microsoft Word, so they're getting longer. Hopefully that's a good thing.

Review Replies:

Natsuyori: Hmm, thank you for putting that so delicately. Thank you for the compliment on my work, though.

Fujutsu: Thank you! I continue to love Snape as well! Glomples him

Claire: Thank you thank you! I shall definitely keep writing.

ProfessorJaySnape: I haven't seen the music video you're talking about. I assume someone smashed a mirror? Anywho. I originally had him just sort of go, "Well, that's not good, dreaming about a student like that" (paraphrased), but I thought he'd be more upset about it, so I thought Why not have him smash something? Heh. I'm evil to him, but that's why we have healing spells and such!

Babyruth15: I appreciate your review, but please (and this goes for everyone) do not "pimp" your stories in reviews to my stories. I wouldn't do it to you, and if you want people to read your stories, they can click on the link to find them. I don't mean to sound bitchy about this, I just don't like it. Thanks!

Beckythorn13: Heehee, suspense is good! Thank you.

Alianne: You lahve it? Snicker A lá the Prima Donna in Phantom of the Opera? Lurvs that movie I saw it three times in the theatre. Yay! Also, thank you. : )

I guess that's about all! Look for Chapter Six next Saturday night (hopefully).