Here's chapter 17, it's kind of a bit odd, it's more to simple work on what Severus and Hermione are currently going through as she's getting better and they don't know what to do with each other.

Hope you like it, it's quite OOC (oh, and OOC equals Out of Character, for those who asked :-))

OH! I have written this on a computer that doesn't have WinWord or anything with spell check. I've checked, double checked, triple checked, any mistakes, please forgive me, I will edit them and replace this chapter ASAP!

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Chapter Seventeen

By Thursday night, Hermione was feeling better then she had in days, Snape noted. She was able to hold a quill for a short amount of time, and the boils on her body were almost gone. Yet even though she could complete her own homework, he found himself seated on the large bed beside her, offering what help he could. He even offered her to look in several of the books from his expansive collection. Even after she finished her work, she asked to continue reading the books. Snape agreed, and he sat with her still, pointing out particular ideas, theories, and paragraphs.

He tried to deny it, but he was enjoying these nightly conversations of work and theories, he rarely had a chance to discuss such things with anyone in Hogwarts, as many of the staff left him to his dark, lonely chambers.

Thinking this, his stomach gave a funny jolt. Until now, he'd never thought of his chambers as lonely. But the presence of someone to talk to made him uneasy, when he thought of the nights of nothing that he'd endured before. It had never bothered him before, he would not let it bother him now.

After a while, Snape sighed and put the books down. "How are you feeling, Hermione?" He asked, quietly. Even though he loved to torment her by calling her Miss Granger, this was not a time he could do so. He did not need to feel that he had enjoyed the last three hours talking about books and magic and potions with a student, he would allow himself the illusion that she was an equal. This made him even more uneasy.

"I'm feeling okay, thank you Professor." Hermione had not dared to call him "Severus" yet, and he couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would be if she did. He couldn't decided if he would rip her apart with words, or accept it.

"Time for more potion," he said, lifting the bottles off the bedside. As he helped her take one, his readied to her cleanse her skin. "Have you had any dreams lately?" He couldn't help but ask, not meeting her eyes as he carefully cleaned her face.

"No, I haven't." She sighed. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I mean…" she trailed off, as though unsure of what he would think of her. He smirked.

"Do continue, Hermione," he said gently. He was interested in what she saw below her closed eyes when she slept, if she saw him.

A smile flicked across her face. "Sometimes I liked the dreams… if they were dreams. I could fly, Professor." She grinned shyly. "I've never been good at that before."

"Something the great Gryffindor Know-It-All can't do?" Snape raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, that's right, I can't fly, you now know my terrible secret. If it hadn't been an essay I wrote in my first year, I might have failed Flying Lessons." She laughed at the thought. He had to admit being amused by this as well. "But in my dreams, I could fly. It was fun, at first. And the forest was really pretty as well. You…" she paused again. "You could fly too, you were there.

"I? Fly? Well, yes, I suppose I can fly, I did referee Quidditch once, remember?" He dared to give her a wary look as she shook her head.

"No, sir, you had wings." She blushed as she said this. "Huge, black, feathered wings." He nearly jerked back in surprise as she reached behind his back as if to see if wings were there or not.

He smirked again. "I suppose that would have been quite the fashion statement." He said drying, neither telling her whether he approved of his wings or not. Truthfully, he did not know himself.

She laughed at his statement. "They suited you, yes." She giggled. "But it was a sweet thing, being out in the open air flying. It was almost a disappointment to wake up to find myself here…" Her eyes found his mouth as he set it in a firm line. So she hated being here, how could be surprised? He found himself thinking. "Oh, no, Professor! I don't mean it like that!" she quickly corrected herself, forcing him to wonder if she had read his thoughts. "I meant that… well… after being out in the gorgeous sunlight, to find myself here, covered in terrible boils…" A wry smile moved across her face.

He allowed himself to meet her eyes. "I understand, Hermione. Here," he handed her a small potion. "Get some sleep now," a smile touched his lips. "And may your dreams be sweet." He was warmed by the smile she returned, before he stood and left the room.

Slowly he wandered around his sitting room, his long fingers lightly brushing the bookcases that lined two walls of the room. With a flick of his wand, he set a fire a blazing in his fire place. He wasn't sure what to think of his being in her 'dreams', applying the potion to her body. How had she managed to be so calm just then, when he had cleaned her right in front her, while she was awake? He wondered if she'd noticed how his hands had trembled while doing so, afraid that she would push him away, considering where he'd been forced to touch her.

Oh, why was he so worried? She'd known since day one what he'd had to do to her, cleansing her. He knew by her screams of pain when a boil burst just what pain it caused, of course she was going to allow him to do anything which would take away that pain. Once upon a time, the screaming would have grated against his nerves, but now, when cringed in worry of what the girl must be feeling. Although he knew she would be feeling pain no where near what he had felt within his life. Now that... he was gone, Snape hoped to Merlin that no one would ever have to, especially the little witch in his bed.

As much as he did not want to, Snape had to admit that he was enjoying the past few evening, sitting in his bedroom with Miss Granger, talking about all things academic. Annoying as she was in the classroom, with her waving hand and know-it-all voice, she was very interesting to hold a conversation with, outside the classroom, without Potter and Weasley flanking her sides. Picking a book from the shelf at random, he sat himself on the leather couch, sitting at one end with one leg stretched along the back. Bloody Potter and Weasley, always trying to get into everything. He had found them glaring at his office door during their Potions classes, and he knew how desperately they wanted to get into his private chambers and seek out their friend. He knew he would have to keep an extra close eye on them, at least until Hermione was 100 better.

Hermione? No, it was Miss Granger. He would not give into her games in his head.

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By Friday afternoon, Hermione was feeling much, much better. She had hoped to be back in the Gryffindor Common room by Friday night, but even though now she could feed herself and attend to her own boils, she still ached, and though the boils were tiny and her skin was almost clear, Snape had informed her that it was probably best if she stayed one more night, just to make sure.

Although she missed her friends terribly and knew that they must be worried about her, she was forced to question her as to just why she didn't mind the idea of spending the extra night in Snape's chambers. The rational part of her mind told her that it was simply because she could not risk returning to the common room and having a relapse. Another part of her mind told her that she was just enjoying his company. Not that she could believe that would ever happen in her entire life - enjoy Severus Snape's company! But he had been almost a pleasure to talk to for the past couple of nights, sitting up with her and talking about schooling and potions and other subjects in ways she'd never dream of being able to do with Harry and Ron, as much as she loved them both.

Talking to Snape about all that she had had proved to be a real eye opener. She had met a side of him that wasn't nasty, sneering, insulting. He had been kind, gentle, didn't even make ridicule her when she made a mistake in her work. Sometimes she'd go as far as saying he was nice, open to her. She greatly appreciated the time in the evenings he gave to help her, and wanted to find a way to repay him, despite knowing how impossible that would be. What would she do? Give him a box of chocolates? At this idea, she gave a little snort, just as the man in her thoughts swept into the room.

"What in my room do you find so amusing?" He asked, one of his eyebrows arching up, as it often did.

She was caught with a look of surprise, as he held out a plate of dinner. "Um, nothing, Sir." She ducked her head, blushing.

Keeping his eyebrow raised, Snape sat the plate on the bedside table. "Here you, Miss Granger," hearing this, she glared at him, "I took the liberty of fetching you some lunch. I believe you like egg and bacon pie?" Surprised that he knew what she liked, she nodded as he sat on the bed next to her. "Do you need any help?" The genuine gentleness in his voice rocked her.

"No, thank you," she smiled warmly at him, no longer afraid of the boils which would burn her skin if burst. She reached for the plate, and sat it in her lap. He watched her warily, as if almost scared that she'd drop food onto his bed. But then she noticed the hunger in his eyes as he looked at her dinner. An image of his thin, pale body that she'd seen that day flashed through her mind. "Have you eaten, sir?" she asked casually.

He shook his head. "No, Miss Granger, I thought only to fetch one plate."

Hermione looked at him, before picking up a piece of the pie on her plate and extending the fork. "Then we'll just have to share." She said, with a wry smile.

"No, Miss Granger, you need the food." He said, turning his head.

"Sir, really, you need to eat." She insisted, holding out the fork to him, urging him to take the food. When he still refused, she dared to venture where she had never been before. "Severus." She said firmly, pushing the fork further towards his face.

His eyes flew wide, startled. When their eyes met, however, she saw a haunted look within them. "Please...?" she asked, still holding the fork. Resigned, he closed his eyes and leaned towards her, his mouth opening and closing around the fork which she held. Hermione suddenly felt as though her nerves had stretched beyond her fingertips and into the fork. He swallowed the food, opening her eyes and looking guilty about what he'd done.

She was quick to offer him another bite, which he took without argument. "It's been a long time since I had egg and bacon pie," he said conversationally, the look on his face saying that he was desperate to try and keep this as normal as he possibly could.

"Mm, it's delicious, isn't it?" Hermione asked, taking a bit for herself. "My mother used to make it a lot. As great as the food is here at Hogwarts though, they'll never match my mothers cooking." She watched him as he took another bite from the fork she offered. Something which she couldn't identify coursed through her veins as she realised that they were sharing the same fork, and as opposed to him feeding her, she was feeding him.

"I was never much of a fan of it, in all honesty... but I suppose it'll do for now..." He smiled at her.

After the meal was polished off by the pair, the spell that had settled over them had broken. Hermione knew Snape didn't have another class to teach after lunch, so she wondered what he did when he wasn't looking after a sick witch. Not that he'd do that very often. She watched him as he stood from the bed and moved to the wardrobe to her left. He removed a black cloak from his wardrobe and turned back to the bed.

"Would you feel up to brewing a potion for me, Hermione?" He asked. "You've missed a lot of class, perhaps you should do some practical work, it might help your body heal. I'd like you to demonstrate you ability at brewing the potion you need to be taking for you to heal. We'd be working in my lab."

Hermione paled and nearly toppled out of bed as he helped her from the bed. She'd just been invited to work in Snape's private potions lab, after feeding him lunch from her fork.

What was wrong with this man? Who was it? It was not Snape, not even the side of him she'd met over the past few days.

Unnerved, she followed him from the room, she took the thick black slippers he offered her, to help protect her feet while trying not to giggle, picturing the surly Potions Master sitting by a fire in pyjamas and these slippers. A hand held her shoulder.

"Does this hurt, to stand?" He asked.

Determined, she shook her head and followed Snape into his sitting room and into his private lab.

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Thought I'd leave the actual potion brewing to the next chapter, I hope you all enjoyed this one! G'night, it's latttttttttte!