AN: I'm back! Have had major computer issues, my muse had to be resuscitated, and my unbelievably fabulous beta, the ever-glamorous LinZe has been doing her dissertation. However, she has now finished that, I have finished the story, and hopefully it will all be posted very soon! Thanks to everyone who reviewed many aeons ago when this was first posted, and a special thanks to you guys who reviewed recently and spurred me on to get my act together and post this, which I have to say has been sat on my computer for weeks. And Linds, I love you! Thanks for reading, and please review – it's the only way to get me to post more chapters!

Obviously I am just playing in J. K. Rowling's sand box. Only the plot is (probably) mine! Everything else is hers. Sadly.

The First Blow

Chapter 8

Hermione hadn't quite made it to breakfast that morning. After nearly a full week back in class she was beginning to feel slightly more normal, but it was going to take time. She felt so ashamed and so dirty, and she couldn't help but flinch every time Harry or Ron accidentally brushed against her. Everyone had remarked on how jumpy she had become lately, and she had taken to spending more and more time in the dormitory. The crowded hot common room made her feel uncomfortable. Today she had woken up with a brick in the pit of her stomach. Monday mornings meant potions, and potions meant the dungeons. Professor Snape had asked her if she would be continuing her studies in his subject. They had both agreed that it would arouse suspicion if she simply stopped turning up though, so she steeled herself for the ordeal, swung her legs out of the safe, warm bed, and began to get dressed. It was too late for breakfast by the time she had finished procrastinating, but the way her stomach felt this morning, that was probably a good thing. She wasn't certain about how much she could have kept down at the moment. Grabbing her bag from the end of the bed, she headed down the staircase into the common room, hoping to avoid another inquisition.

Harry was waiting by the fireplace.

"Afternoon, Hermione. Thought you were going to stand me up. Oh, I brought you some breakfast." He handed over a stack of toast, which she accepted gratefully. Bread was about the most innocuous thing you could eat, she reasoned, so a few slices would probably do her good, although she did wonder once again at the mind of the teenage boy as she noted he had brought her eight slices..

"Thanks Harry." He noted that her smile contained the warmth that had been missing since she had come back from the hospital wing. Both he and Ron thought that there was something wrong, but having known Hermione for seven years he had learnt that she would tell them when she was ready If not, then she had her reasons, and pushing her was not going to help. He just hoped she knew that they were there for her.

"Come on, we're going to be late. You know how grumpy Snape gets on a Monday morning." He saw Hermione blanche, and then recover herself. "Is … I don't want to pry Hermione, but is everything alright? You don't look very well. Are you sure you're up to this? Snape's classes can be pretty trying at the best of times."

"I'm fine Harry. You try looking good a week after you've shaken off a bout of glandular fever. And besides, I have to go back to potions. I've already missed so much. Come on, or we really will be late." She stepped through the portrait hole, leaving Harry to follow in her wake.

They arrived at the dungeons just before the bell rang, joining the line of students outside the classroom door. As the bell rang, the door opened, and Snape appeared.

"In," he barked pointing to their seats. "We have a lot to do today. We only have nine weeks before your NEWTS and if you aren't going to fail miserably, you need to work." He looked up, seeing Hermione for the first time. "Miss Granger, I was not aware you would be rejoining us so soon. I trust you are well enough for this?" Hermione caught the edge of concern in the cold voice, the unasked question in his eyes. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Thank you professor, I'm much better now." She took a deep breath and stepped through the classroom door. She was there, she was in the room where … no she wouldn't think about it, couldn't think about it yet. She knew that Snape was behind her, and that was comforting somehow. She headed for her usual seat, next to Harry, and saw all the ingredients laid out for a complex healing potion, the instructions for which were already on the board.

"You will work in silence, following the instructions on the board. At the end of the two hours, I will test your potions. If any student fails to make this simple potion, they will write me an essay explaining exactly where they went wrong. Might I also remind you that your projects must be handed in a week on Friday?" Snape ignored the groan that ran round the room at his words.

Hermione sat down and concentrated on the task of preparing the ingredients for the potion. It was tricky, and would need all her concentration, which was good. If she was concentrating on this, she couldn't think about anything else, she told herself, fiercely chopping up her dandelion roots. After about half an hour, she was beginning to get into the familiar rhythm of potion making, finding herself not thinking about what she was doing or where she was, enjoying the act of creating the potion. The next ingredient was a few drops of essence of belladonna. She reached for the bottle on the workbench, unscrewing the top. As she did so, the smell hit her. This was what she had been able to smell on his robes as he had … Suddenly the room was spinning, and she could feel his weight on top of her, feel his breath against her cheek. She dropped the bottle and it smashed on the stone floor. She took a step back to escape the smell, getting her foot caught in her robes, and falling to the floor.

Severus was alerted to the fact that there was a problem when the belladonna bottle that Hermione had been holding fell to the floor and smashed. He was on his feet and at her desk in a moment.

"What happened Mr Potter?" he asked, vanishing the mess of liquid and glass on the floor, kneeling down beside the unconscious student.

"I … I don't know, sir. One minute she was fine, and then she opened the bottle, went a funny colour and just, well she just fell," Harry said shakily.

"Did she hit her head?" Snape barked.

"I … I don't know. It was all too fast for me to see. One minute she was standing there, and the next she was on the floor."

"I think we've established that Mr Potter." He got his wand out of his robes and passed it over her prone form, working from the head down, muttering under his breath as he did so.

"Well, she doesn't appear to have broken anything at least," he muttered, half to himself. Suddenly she opened her eyes, and he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Miss Granger, you need to lie still for a little while. Can you tell me my name?" he asked, his voice low and authoritative.

"Professor Snape," she muttered.

"Good. Do you know where you are?" he continued.

"The … the dungeons," she said, looking around her fearfully.

"Very good. Do you think you can stand?" she bit her lip but nodded. "Right, we need to get you to the hospital wing. As usual you have tried to do too much too soon, and it would appear you have had a relapse." He slid one arm under her shoulders, and grabbed her forearm with his other hand, helping her to sit up, steadying her for a moment. She grabbed his arm tightly as they stood up, and he put his arm round her waist as she reeled for a moment on her feet.

"All right, I've got you; I'm not going to let you fall," he said, so quietly only she could hear.

"Mr Potter, as you have an unsalvageable mess in your cauldron already: take Miss Granger up to the hospital wing, and explain to Madam Pomfrey what happened, and then come back here to clean up your bench and Miss Granger's cauldron. There is no reason for the rest of you to stop working."

Harry moved so that he was on the other side of Hermione, and went to take her hand.

"Come on 'Mione, let's get you upstairs," he said gently, still unable to forget the colour her face had gone before she had fallen. She shrank away from him, as though she was frightened of something, although, Harry thought, it couldn't possibly be him, could it?

"Perhaps Miss Granger has been more disorientated by this incident than I first suspected," Severus said, as the grip on his arm was tightened to the point where he was afraid it would compromise his blood supply. "Right, turn off the heat under your cauldrons and pack up; I want the classroom spotless by the time I get back. Spend the rest of the lesson working on your projects. We will attempt this potion again in your next lesson, and Mr Potter, if you don't manage to make it correctly on a second attempt, you will write me a twelve foot essay explaining why."

Leaving the class behind, he turned round, putting his arm firmly round Hermione's waist and guiding her out of the room.