This chapter went in a different direction than I had planned, but the characters were getting frustrated. That said, this chapter is double the length of most of the others AND it has some lemony treats, so double reviews would be nice?

Seriously, please?

Again, this is rated M.

Chapter 10

Explain

The week after the Quidditch match, Hermione had received a note one morning at breakfast with her regularly delivered owl post. It was addressed to Miss Granger in the familiar spiky writing she knew to be Professor Snape's. Puzzled at how short it was, she frowned and turned it over a few times, looking for more. There were only two words; it wasn't even a full sentence.

Only child?

She bit her lip, thinking about it. Thankfully, Harry was sitting with Ron that morning and no one was there to question her puzzled expression. She figured this was Snape's way of beginning his questioning of her- their first "session". She had assumed that the mention of upbringing, habits, likes, and dislikes were simply to unnerve her, and he would start with the heavy interrogations, but this note proved otherwise.

Firmly determined not to look up at the head table, she scribbled her answer on the same parchment to hand to the waiting owl.

Yes, I'm an only child.

She paused, wondering if this was enough, before deciding to add more.

My parents had difficulty conceiving for years and the pregnancy and birth were very hard on my mother. They wanted more children, but it was not in the cards.

She made a face and wrinkled her nose. Too much? Ah well, too late to leave that part off now. She strangely wondered if she should add that her mother was 37 when she was born, and her father had been nearly 50. Not to psychoanalyze herself either, but it could explain some of her own attraction to an older man. An almost 13-year age difference was nothing in her family, and the age difference between herself and Severus couldn't be that much more…

Hermione shook her head, deciding not to add this. Instead, she wrote, What about you? Are you an only child?

She handed it to the owl and watched it fly away and out an open window, probably delivering it to Professor Snape's quarters to ensure he could read it in privacy.

The next morning, there was another note from a different owl. This one simply answered, Yes.

There was another note the next morning with another benign question that Snape could probably have gotten the answer to from her school records. Hermione made sure to give some explanatory details in each answer and ask a question of her own, usually the same one he had just asked of her. A few times, she got no reply to her question of him, only a different question back on another topic. Thus began the correspondence.

Hermione and Ron avoided each other over the following weeks as Christmas break quickly approached. Harry found himself in the middle and, Harry not wanting to pick sides, Hermione saw much less of him as well. It was almost as if she and Ron were sharing custody of Harry in their new divorce.

Hermione saw Harry in the evenings, as her schedule was full during the daytime and Ron was spending his evenings in the common room, tightly wrapped around Lavender. This meant the Gryffindor Common Room was not a safe Harry-Hermione hangout space, and they spent much of their time together in the Library. They held whispered conversations there over their textbooks about who the Prince in Half-Blood Prince could be and which girls Harry most needed to avoid.

As Christmas was fast approaching, holly and mistletoe were scattered randomly throughout the halls. On her few walks to class in which she had custody of Harry, Hermione had to put up with gangs of younger girls making eyes at the Chosen One and jumping underneath enchanted mistletoe in hopes of being freed by his kiss. She dutifully warned Harry of Romilda Vane and her friends' scheming attempts to sneak him love potions, smugly noting even the Half-Blood Prince wouldn't have a remedy for all the different types they could try. Hermione advised him to ask someone to Slughorn's Christmas party in order to dissuade some of the more daring admirers. Soon it came out that she would be attending with Cormac McLaggen, a fact she took vindictive glee in when she saw Ron's face.

Harry had become convinced by Hermione's attitude that she was in love with Ron and jealous of Lavender, despite Hermione's protests.

She insisted to Harry, "He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes. I really couldn't care less." The first was true; the second, not as much. Her feelings for Ron were even less than platonic at this point. She was bothered by it, but not because she wanted Ron sucking her own face. Unsurprising as it is in these circumstances, there were a multitude of reasons behind Hermione's ire.

Lavender Brown, they have nothing in common! Didn't he act like he wanted me to go to the Christmas party with him? Is he doing this all to get back at me for not believing in him? What an absolute arse!

Back to the first point- being at liberty. Hermione wasn't at liberty to kiss whomever she liked, and there was now someone holding the entirety of her affection. He occupied her thoughts often, especially after their newfound communication had begun. Hermione was indeed jealous; it was difficult for her to gracefully allow Ronald Weasley his own freedoms when she was not similarly unencumbered.

While in the first few weeks the questions Hermione received from Snape had been polite and perfunctory, the questions she received near the end of November and beginning of December started to become more exploratory. She learned that they had very similar taste in music, sharing a love of certain classical composers, as well as a few choice muggle 70's and 80's bands that she had grown up listening to in the dental office lobby. After discovering the fondness of muggle musicians, she was surprised to learn that Snape was not pureblooded and had been raised in the muggle world himself, though he didn't elaborate on that point.

Hermione learned that Snape was nearly sorted into Ravenclaw, just as she was, and she was unsurprised to learn that he was also a voracious reader. Hermione admitted to him that she loved 19th century novels for leisure reading, being especially fond of Jane Eyre and Middlemarch as well as just about every work of Dickens, Hardy, and Austen. She discovered that Severus had a penchant for both classical and modern science fiction, as it was "far more imaginative, fantastical, and cerebral than anything labeled in the genre of Fantasy". She smiled to herself, imagining him saying that in his low, even tones and wondering fondly if he ever got excited about anything.

The additional information had done nothing to ease her feelings, only stoking the fire more the more she learned. With each tiny tidbit of information Severus Snape allowed to seep through, Hermione could see the possibility of a future relationship coming more clearly into focus. She found herself anxiously anticipating her next note by owl and frustratingly wishing these sessions could be in person, though knowing for propriety's sake that this would be unwise. She had been unable to sleep without thinking of him lately, now having no guilty thoughts of Ron whatsoever.

The notes began a witty banter, even, with him asking once about the bird's nest upon her head and her reply playfully asking about his greasy locks. He did not appear at all offended by her playfulness and she could swear she saw a mischievous glint in his eyes the next time she saw him.

She had been out on her prefect patrols one night and came across him patrolling as well. After acknowledging each other with a brief nod from him and a smile from her, they had continued walking silently together for a few minutes. Following the tell-tale sounds of late-night coupling, they both pulled back opposite ends of a tapestry to find two students locked together. The Hufflepuff girl and Ravenclaw boy didn't notice them at first, too busy lustfully moaning through locked mouths and grinding hips. A deep blush settled on Hermione's face as she felt Severus beside her, but their voyeur moment was short-lived, and the students embarrassedly separated and sent to bed.

Hermione had hoped to converse with Severus afterwards, but he merely raised an eyebrow and gave her a seductive smirk before sweeping past her, cloak billowing.

One evening she had decided to stop by during his office hours, in hopes of continuing their conversations. He had let her in, waiting for her to state her business and be on her way, but she lingered for a bit, asking drawn-out questions about potions articles or rare ingredients. She believed that Snape had dryly humored her at first, but he relaxed somewhat after a few of her trains of thought proved both sincere and interesting. She let herself out quietly after two hours, happily smiling to herself in the knowledge that students rarely made use of his open appointments.

A few nights later she sought him out again. She had been talking with him for a while about academic matters when something on one of his ingredient shelves caught her eye.

"What is that bottle?" Hermione pointed up at a bottle in the corner on the high shelf, its label obscured.

"Sanguine Virginis." He replied.

"Virgin's blood?" Her brow furrowed and she turned to look at him questioningly.

"It is a rare potions ingredient." Severus drawled nonchalantly. "It purifies any treatments that are to be given intravenously. There are other ingredients that can do the same, but most are just as rare." He paused then and his eyes had a faraway look to them. Snape was not one for woolgathering, however, and the moment was lost.

"You are fortunate I had it on hand," he said to her pointedly.

"Why am I fortu- oh." Her eyes widened in surprise. "The antivenin?"

He nodded. "That was part of the second brewing stage I completed alone. In this case, dealing with such a rare type of venom, I thought it was a necessary addition."

Hermione nodded, but she looked lost in thought. Her brow had furrowed again. After her nose wrinkled and lips pouted slightly, she heard Snape give a light snort. He waved his hand impatiently and raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well? Go on with your question."

"I just- more of a comment really…It's just so…barbaric, isn't it?" His look didn't alter, and she plowed through. "I mean, Virgin's Blood? Firstly, not all virgins bleed in that way as there are plenty of activities that can break the hymen ahead of intercourse…and secondly, it's just a barbaric idea to… well…" She huffed, a little embarrassed at not being able to complete her thoughts without flushing. "To- to use someone like that in such an intimate way."

Severus said nothing, simply watching her with those dark, fathomless eyes as she reddened further under his gaze. Are you speaking from experience? She imagined him to say to her.

"Yes," he finally answered. "'Virgin's Blood' is a misnomer, as blood is unnecessary for the solution and it does not only belong to the virgin. It is the virginal congress that matters." Seeing her expression unchanged, he muttered in explanation, "the seminal fluids."

"Ah." She nodded, realizing she was having an academic sex talk with a man who she dreamed about sex with regularly. "And the- the other bit? About…using…"

Severus looked up at her sharply. "What do you want me to say, Granger? I didn't buy it off a peddler, if that's what you want to know. It wasn't a backorder at Slug and Jiggers."

"No, I…" Truthfully, she was curious about how this ingredient was obtained, especially if it gave insight into the sexual exploits of Severus Snape, but she daren't ask him that.

She expected him to throw her out of his office, but instead he just sighed and lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. He leaned back tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

He spoke to her rotely as if lecturing for a class. "Virgin's Blood is used in potion-making for its magical purity and its ability to cleanse solutions that interact directly in the bloodstream." He removed his hand from his face and opened his eyes to look up at her. "As its purity is a vital part of its healing essence, it will be ineffective as an ingredient unless it is offered willingly; if taken forcefully, it is worthless. There is no way that the virgin in question is being…used, as you put it. There is nothing untoward in obtaining the solution… that is, not unless the virgin has an ulterior motive in offering their blood."

"That…that is a relief to know, sir."

He removed his hand from his face and looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. "Is it? Is it a relief to know that a woman freely offered herself to be used as an ingredient? Or that a woman had such forethought about an intimate moment?" Severus' jaw clenched tightly as he continued. "Who is to say there was not an ulterior motive?"

"It was used in the antivenin, sir. Whatever the intent behind it, it is truly a lifesaving gift."

"Do you believe that?" He whispered, eyes searching her out. "Would you be selfless enough to give such a gift? To offer yourself to a man and have him bottle and store the remnants of that union for future… experimentation?"

"No, sir." She said this firmly, believing it.

That response appeared to satisfy him, and he leaned back in his chair.

"I would only…" Hermione's heart ached for him then and she let slip more than she meant to. "I would only give that for love, never just for a potion."

She belatedly realized that she had just admitted her personal philosophy on sex being reserved for love as well as her own virginal status. Before she could comment on this with further blushing, she muttered a quick "Goodnight, sir" and exited.

She left him deep in thought that night.

Hermione continued with her note passing with Severus over breakfasts, but they had become longer and more honest after their office meetings. She understood that her feelings had deepened, and she was becoming as worried as she was excited about the new developments. Nothing could happen now, of course… could it? She once again pondered if the future she had viewed came to fruition sooner than expected.

Do I make the first move?

She found herself once again visiting Severus during his open office hours, though she had no more Potions or Defense-related questions to open their discussion with. After knocking, she entered quietly to find him waiting for her, seated behind his desk and glaring.

"Granger, this must stop."

"Sir? I only had a few questions about-"

"You did not." He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk and fingers steepled together. "There is no need to find an excuse to visit as the letters should suffice for meeting the terms of our wager."

"They don't, really." She sighed, not able to help herself from pouting slightly. "There's too much back and forth and the response time is too long."

"That is by design."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to be difficult, but quickly growing annoyed. "I enjoy talking with you, alright? Even if all you do is interrogate me with basic facts about myself. The polite thing to do would be to answer my questions as well, you know. I feel we are becoming, well…" Here you go, Hermione. Take the leap. "…friendly. Friends don't need to limit conversation to terse notes over mealtimes."

"I don't know what you imagine this to be, Miss Granger, but an interrogation is more apt a description than a friendship."

"Oh, really?" She scoffed. "What do I need to be interrogated about? What crime have I committed? What dark secret am I keeping when you ask about my childhood? Am I the next Chosen One?"

He snarled and she caught his tell-tale tick on the side of his mouth. Admit it, Snape. You think I'm funny and you like my company too.

"Inconsistencies."

Her scoff didn't leave her face. "Inconsistencies? I've hardly been telling people different stories, let alone you. Go ahead and ask if you have a question- I'm an open book. I can't give you some information when my friends have asked me to keep it private, but it's hardly worth an interrogation to safeguard a friend's secrets."

He rose from his chair and stalked menacingly towards her. "Ask you anything?" He hissed.

"I'll tell you if I can't answer it, sir, but I won't lie."

He came to stand immediately before her, and she could smell him distinctly. Mahogany and parchment and…something else. She knew he was trying to intimidate her by his closeness, but he simply rejuvenated her. She ached to touch him. Her heart gonged and groaned, and she mentally begged him to kiss her, to touch her.

Her heart sank at his next question and she forgot all her bravery. "Why are you coming to my office, Granger?" He whispered. "Why are you answering my questions?"

She opened her mouth to answer but found she could not. She had promised him she wouldn't lie, but if she admitted that she couldn't answer the question, she would be admitting there was nothing benign in her visits. She closed her mouth and bit her lip, gazing up at him, wide-eyed.

It feels like a lie to say I want to be friends. I don't want that… I want him.

Severus looked down at her, stretching the silence between them. The lines in his face softened and she found herself wanting to kiss every one of them, running her fingers through his lank, black hair. Still, she waited for him to say something further. His thin lips parted, and he spoke to her softly.

"Now you understand why this must stop…Hermione."

He stepped back from her and moved to open the office door. Shell-shocked, she mutely walked through it before he closed it gently behind her.

Hermione was in agony over the next few days, having heard nothing back from Severus after she had seen him in his office. They had been previously progressing in their mutual discovery of each other as far as she knew, and she hoped she was mistaken in thinking he was angry with her on the few times she was able to catch his eye.

Finally, she received another missive that said simply, Tell me about what I saw in your mind.

This was another morning Hermione sat alone, thankfully, for she couldn't help the deep blush that spread over her face and down her neck. She was feeling particularly emboldened now, however. She knew that it was a year and change before Severus Snape would act out this scene with her, but she had grown to suspect that her feelings were not unreturned.

Over the last week that she had not heard from him, she had brazenly searched him out regularly at meals and stared at him until he met her eyes. The quick glance he would give her felt like an eternity and she would imagine it each night that week- his dark sensuous eyes meeting hers and giving her the once over slowly as she palmed a breast roughly through her nightshirt while her other hand fingered her clit through her drenched panties. The silencing charm and spell-sealed curtains hid her muffled pants and moans as she lurched wantonly into her hand, arching herself off the bed. She would close her eyes and imagine him there, simply standing unmoving above her over the bed, watching her pleasure herself to the thought of him. Even head thrown back, lips bitten imagining kisses, and nipples flicked and twisted did nothing to satisfy her aching need, as she would have to stop as soon as her sensitivity peaked too much for her to bear some imperceptible time before her climax.

After four nights of bittersweet frustration and no notes from her dark-eyed professor, she had met his eyes at breakfast the next morning and recalled the memory of the unsatisfying night before in her mind. This time, she knew the difference in his look when his eyes widened slightly, and brows furrowed in surprise. She looked away before he did for the first time that week, turning her head and smiling and laughing at the first somewhat amusing thing Harry said. Hermione felt Severus' eyes burning into her as she did so, finding herself gleeful at the teasing. She was absolutely positive Severus was capable of wandless, silent Legilimency.

Then the next morning, she found herself sitting alone, holding that note in her hand and blushing hotly.

Tell me about what I saw in your mind.

Not even hesitating, she wrote back, Which time?

It was the shortest thing she had written to him, but she knew she had felt both thrilled and incensed with his short one-word answers in the beginning and hoped she would frustrate him back. Are we talking about snogging in a window alcove, Severus? Or something much more risqué?

Sure enough, it was not even a few minutes before the same note dropped back down on her plate. She looked up. He had never responded to her reply in the same meal before.

A large black eagle waited before her instead of the usual rotation of school barn owls.

He has a black eagle as a familiar, she thought.

Gingerly, she took the waiting parchment from its claw. It read, Both times. Explain.

Hermione's heart beat frantically and she forced herself not to crush the note to her chest in embarrassment. She was trying to play out each scenario in her head like a chess move, unsuccessfully hoping to predict the outcome. Respond back now and deny all? Describe every last filthy thing she had imagined him doing to her? Crumble the note and stop this before it got out of hand?

She sat up in her seat on the bench at the Gryffindor table, shifting as she thought about it. Brashly, like the Gryffindor she was, she looked up towards the head table.

He had been watching her the whole time.

Hermione saw his dark eyes brimming over, reminding her again of a dark and powerful sea. His pupils were dilated, lips tight, and hands clenched tightly on the table before him.

Hermione was not sexually experienced, per se. She had snogged Viktor Krum a little and batted his hands away from her breasts when he reached for them, but this was the crux of her experience. Hermione Granger had an all-consuming thirst for knowledge, however, and she had a fervent curiosity about carnal matters just as much as any other subject.

She couldn't help herself.

As their eyes met, she pulled up the image in her mind of herself on the bed moaning and pressing into her hand. She found herself biting down on her lip nervously as she recalled the memory, her eyes remaining keyed into Severus' eyes across the hall. She could clearly feel him in her mind now, and she continued the memory.

Her right hand continued to tug at her sensitive nub, while with her left hand she simultaneously played with each breast and pinched her nipples until they poked and rubbed stiffly against her nightshirt. The silky material felt wonderful against the tips, and her mouth became dry as she arched upward. She panted as her hand roughly tugged at each of her breasts in turn before moving slowly down. She used it to clench her hip down on the sheets while she pressed her fingers into her core through the fabric of her shorts, bringing the juices up to help rub her clitoris through her pants.

She saw his chest rising and falling slightly faster than before, but still imperceptible to the average viewer at breakfast. His eyes were still locked into hers. It was as if they were the only two people in the hall, as the morning chatter and clangs of plates and silverware persisted noisily.

Memory-Hermione moaned and moved her hand from above the fabric to slide underneath her sleep shorts as Severus watched. Her other hand gripped her hip down onto the sheets to keep her from bucking up into her fingers. The Severus at the head table remained stoic, but the Severus in her head was not unaffected. The Severus above her bed watching inhaled raspily, eyes widening, and his hands twitched at his sides, as if hoping to join her on the bed.

Severus, she whispered, her other hand teasingly pulling her clothing down on one hip as her right hand continued to stroke beneath it. Severus.

Hermione saw the Severus at the table grimace in concentration, clearly trying to keep his tight-lipped composure.

She raised her chin, trembling and blushing terribly but not ceasing the memory and continuing to meet his eyes.

She grunted in her head as she twiddled her clit. Her left hand moved to her behind, grasping one cheek. She toyed with herself with one hand as she thrust her bottom upwards with her other hand, wishing he could assist her in some way, wishing it were his hands on her arse thrusting her upward.

Severus…please…I…fuck…oh Severus… She moaned quietly.

Hermione sitting at the table felt herself growing hotter both above and below her clothing, but now that she had dipped her toe in, now that she knew Severus was watching the memory along with her, she couldn't stop. She forced herself to breathe through her nose so she wouldn't pass out at the table between the eggs and the pumpkin juice. Severus' fists were white, both clenched and resting on the table. She was still holding the note from him in her hands tightly.

Oh God…Severus…Oh please… She licked her lips as she touched herself, imagining his kisses. Her eyes were shut, and her curls frizzed with the sweat forming on her brow. Her mouth opened slightly as she panted, continuing the desperate touches.

Frustrated, the Hermione on the bed pushed her shorts further down, exposing herself completely to the Severus above her and trapping her thighs together where the fabric rested. She was wet and glistening before him, aching deeply in her lower abdomen and the tips of her breasts sensitized, but she had not yet reached completion. If she had only known he could actually watch her later, that might have helped.

The Severus watching in her head stepped closer to the bed, hands now clenched at his sides in white-knuckled fists, just like the Severus at the high-table. Severus at the table remained stoic, if grimacing, while the Severus above the bed was slack jawed and wide eyed.

Memory-Hermione thrashed on the bed frantically, her face screwed up in concentration. She pulled her left hand away from her bottom and rushed it upwards, fumbling with her shirt. She lifted it up completely so she could grab her tits again, exposing herself to Severus from chest to thigh. She turned her head to the side and whispered encouragements to herself as she palmed her breast and brushed over her nipple, her fingers below moving rapidly now. She had imagined his deep voice whispering to her then, she remembered, hoping he could move her over the edge.

Severus please… I can't…fuck…I can't get there I…uhh…I need…ohh…please

The Severus above the bed had moved as close as possible without climbing on, his dark eyes devouring the scene. He made no other move to her and remained silent.

Sitting at the table, Hermione realized her knickers were soaked and she would have to rush up to change them after breakfast, but she still did not look away from the dark eyes across the hall.

Memory-Hermione jerked upward into her hand, her whole body convulsing.

Please please please Severus oh fuck yes I want yes yes yes

She threw her head back and groaned helplessly.

Then she shrieked in unfulfilled frustration, removing her hand, and angrily punching the sheets, knowing she had become too sensitive to continue on by herself without pain. She was quite wet and not completely unsatisfied, but she knew she had chased something that had run too fast and escaped her. Biologically, she understood that this is why women had partners to push them through to climax, but it was no less frustrating. Was this an orgasm? She supposed that this sensation could be it, but it felt like there was still something lacking.

Hermione felt a jolt and realized Severus had exited her head. Still red as a tomato, she glanced around. Belatedly, she realized the memory-viewing must have occurred within a matter of seconds, no matter how long it felt to her.

She looked down at the note, wondering if she should reply at this point.

Tell me about what I saw in your mind.

Which time?

Both times. Explain.

Fearlessly, she wrote, Ask me in person.

Despite her earlier boldness, Hermione had been somewhat terrified to meet Professor Snape's eyes again. Thankfully, the end of term was fast approaching, and she was busy with classwork and homework, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to find herself mentally absorbed in other things. Also, she had received no reply.

When she did think about it, she was somewhat ashamed. She had never acted like that before… Not that it was anyone's business what she did in the privacy of her bed or what she replayed in her mind. Honestly, Snape was the one at fault for sniffing around. Still… she couldn't help but want to put her hands over her face in embarrassment every time she thought about what had happened between them. Severus Snape had watched her writhing around and lustfully moaning his name as she fingered herself. Not only that, but she had purposely shown him that memory to gauge his reaction.

Hermione had reached the point in which she could no longer bear the thought of him not feeling the same way. It wasn't love, surely… was it? She had no idea, but she was warring with her own desires and logical conclusions about the point. Hermione had decided long ago that sex should only be given out of love, and it was clear that Severus Snape was not in love with her now… but she had seen that his future self was. She cared for him and his wellbeing, was jealous of his attentions, and missed him when he wouldn't speak to her. His eyes and hands and lips and nose and brows and just about every body part of his she knew about were not only attractive to her but beautiful as well. She felt close to insanity at the thought of him. What was that if not love? If unrequited longing, lust, and care can ever be called love, this was such.

Hermione was determined not to label this as love, as love was far too daunting a word to admit to, but it was an undeniable attraction that had become a base need. She would not touch herself at night anymore out of embarrassment and heartsick longing, but he was in her dreams now, holding her gently in the bed and soothing her fears.

When it came time for the Slug Club Christmas party, she dressed well. She picked a deep forest green dress that hit just above knee length, with long sleeves, conservative neckline and a low-cut back. The dress had a high waist which she cinched with a golden sash. For her hair she used a little Sleekeazy's but didn't want to stay too long in the dormitory with Lavender and Parvati glaring daggers at her. Satisfied with the Slytherin dress color that she could only get away with for Christmas, she decided she looked quite nice.

Cormac McLaggen was a perfect gentleman for the beginning of the evening, but once they got to the party and he had had a few drinks, he'd pushed her under the mistletoe a few times for a snog. A peck on the cheek she was fine with, even a chaste kiss on the lips, and she tried to be patient with her date, feeling somewhat guilty now that she was using him both to get back at Ron and parading him in front of Severus. After the third time of ignoring her brushoffs and sticking his hands in unwanted places, however, she elbowed him in the stomach, confunded him again, and set him off to blubber incoherently to a Hufflepuff fifth year.

Shortly after, Malfoy had arrived to party crash and Snape had led him out quickly to have a talk. Hermione subtly noted Harry slip out as well, she was sure in order to use his cloak to eavesdrop on the pair. Rolling her eyes, she waited a few more minutes before slipping out into the hallway as well.

When she stepped out into the hallway, Harry was nowhere to be seen and the Slytherins had clearly finished their discussion. Severus was heading in her direction, ostensibly to rejoin the party, and Malfoy was walking away in the other direction. Hermione moved aside so that Snape could enter the door beside her, but he held out his arm, directing her along the corridor.

"This way, Miss Granger." He said quietly.

Surprised, she acquiesced without question and allowed him to lead her. His arm came along behind her to push gently at the small of her back as they walked, and her heart pounded in her chest at the contact.

They entered an empty classroom and he shut the door and locked it behind them, placing a silencing charm as well as another spell she didn't recognize.

They both turned to look at each other, Hermione's heart in her throat.

"Your date…" He drawled disdainfully.

"Got a little handsy," she said quietly. "His attentions were neither wanted nor returned."

They said nothing further for a few moments, simply looking each other up and down. This was the first time she had met his eyes since her mental confession to him. Severus' eyes seemed darker than usual, and she noticed his hands twitching at his sides. He looked at her in such a way that made her feel just as mentally exposed now. Hermione felt achy all over and there was a distinct pain in her stomach and chest that made her feel almost nauseous.

"I am afraid," he said finally, "that I am at a loss as to where to begin." Hermione realized that the expression on his face had not been one of anger, but of caution.

She shook her head in a few short little movements, also afraid to speak first.

"Granger, I told you that it was unwise to see me in my office any longer," he said quietly. His eyes were wide, expression was open, and mouth revealed no malice in the statement. "I have already hexed myself in the foot in continuing to interact with you, but you make it still more difficult for me to resist."

Severus' eyes locked onto hers and he continued in a hoarse whisper. "What have you been trying to elicit from me? I am only a man." Hermione's heart pounded rapidly in her chest.

"Am I still to understand that you have not…gone back?" He asked her softly, stepping forward towards her. She repeated her quick no head shakes. "No? There has been no other Order mission?" He stepped forward again and she began backing up towards the wall, still shaking her head no.

Severus' eyes were dark and fiery, she could see now as he got closer. His tight lips formed into a wolfish grin as he continued to step forward. "Then," he whispered. "Tell me about what I saw in your mind."

She had backed up against the wall at this point, the cold stone biting into her exposed spine.

"Which time?" She croaked, imitating the response on her note.

His grin widened and he raised an eyebrow. That look alone sent her heart plummeting into her stomach.

"Both times." He hissed in that dark, familiar tone. "Explain." His lips moved slowly over the last word, emphasizing each syllable. He was now standing directly before her and she was trapped between him and the wall.

"Here I am, Miss Granger," he chuckled, leaning above her, "asking you in person."

"I would think it was rather self-explanatory." She had finally found her courage, it seemed. Hermione looked up at him above her, still not touching, but close enough to kiss.

"Apparently not."

Hermione was both terrified and thrilled. This is the exact scenario she had wanted for at least a month, if not longer. Yet how to proceed?

If he's teasing me again, only humiliating me, I couldn't bear it. I didn't choose this to begin with, but here I am. I want it now.

Hermione had already weighed all the options, and nothing could happen now. This was forbidden. She gazed up at him pleadingly, willing him with her eyes not to ask her to explain further. How could she, even if she wanted to?

She bit her lip. An unexpected tear left her eye and traced down her cheek as she tried to still her emotions.

In an instant, his face faltered.

"Who put you up to this?" He hissed angrily.

"Wh- what?" His rapid about-face startled her.

"Do not play me for a fool! You know nothing about me, Granger, and I am hardly the stuff fantasies are born of." He snarled at her, still leaning over her and forcing her into the wall without actually touching her.

"Whose idea was this?" Severus appeared to have misinterpreted her reluctance to speak as the giving up of some sort of sick charade. As if Hermione would shout, 'Ha! Caught you, you sick pervert!' and would display his pursuit of her for all to see.

Something broke in her and everything she'd been consumed by erupted suddenly in anger.

"Whose idea? Whose idea?" She snarled back at him, lifted her hands and pushed them hard against his chest. He fell back a few paces at her push but remained on his feet as she stalked back towards him, curls bouncing.

"You are the one who has been writing to me for weeks, telling me about yourself, becoming friendly with me- or- or god knows what else! You've pulled me along into this little game of yours and now you're mad at me for further invading my privacy? How dare you, Snape!"

She poked him in the chest now, her nose wrinkled in fury as she glared daggers up at him. "You think you can go prodding and prying around in my head and then question me about it like I've done something wrong?" She shrieked.

"I don't need to justify my thoughts to you or explain them! If anything, you should explain to me what the bloody hell you've been doing having a look!" She stepped back now, lowering her hands to her sides and breathing hard after her angry rant.

"If anything," she choked, her anger slowly receding to fear of rejection, "it's you who is playing me for the fool." She closed her eyes, tears streaming down both sides of her face. When she opened her eyes, she hid none of her feeling from him.

"You know what you saw." She whispered.

This confession was not eliciting the reaction from him that she intended. His eyes were wider now in surprise, but the fire had returned. His roguish grin was slowly returning along with the smoldering look.

Slowly, his hands left his sides and came up to each of her wrists. His fingers ghosted gently up her arms, lightly brushing the fabric of her long-sleeved dress. When his hands reached her shoulders, they paused momentarily. Then, just as she felt she could breathe again, his hands roughly grabbed her curls behind her head and pulled her neck forward into his lowering mouth. She gave a small moan as their upper bodies pressed together. She was engulfed again by his smell: musty parchment, sage, sandalwood, and some unknown hedonistic flavor that made her mouth water and her core ache with arousal.

"You offer me your body, your desires- but I am ravenous. I need more. I require explanation." He spoke into the skin on her neck before nipping it gently with his teeth. Hermione pursed her lips together, reminding herself to breathe through her nose, her hands trembling at her sides.

"When you are ready to tell me," his low voice purred in her ear as she gasped, "when you are ready to elucidate every individual detail of your enticing little dreams, as well as your intentions behind them, then come to me. When you are able to answer my questions- all of my questions, without hesitation… come to me…Hermione."

He rubbed his face against her neck as he spoke, never kissing her outright, but letting her feel the friction from his lips. His breath felt like delicious fire on her skin, and she had to suppress moans as he moved. She could feel her knickers were damp and she half-wondered if she could come from his voice alone. His hands continued to hold her head, fingers threaded through her rapidly dampening curls.

"You may even ask your own questions. Write me a damn essay if you like, for I want to hear your thoughts. I want to hear every probing query, every precise clarification kept in that pretty little head."

He still only held his face to her tilted-up neck, and her lower body cried out to be ground up against like she had seen the students do in the alcove. He chuckled at her squirming before continuing on in that low tone. "Come now, use those delectable lips for an oral report on the subject so I can give you the 'O' you deserve."

Hermione moaned openly now.

"Come to me. Present yourself open and unbared, and I shall…satisfy your curiosity."

She felt him inhale slowly against her neck, rubbing his nose and cheek against her as he gently pulled away, removing his fingers from her hair, and parting her curls almost reverently. One hand followed the twist of a long curl as it moved away while the other moved tantalizingly down her open back in a featherlike tease. As his hand reached the dip where her dress fabric began, it slowly moved around her hip and away from her. She bit her tongue to keep from groaning at the loss of contact.

When he stepped back, she saw the same raw, heated look in his eyes for a brief second before he turned away fluidly. He unlocked the door and cancelled his spells with one wave of his hand, opening the door swiftly and walking away down the corridor.

Hermione closed her eyes and slowly sunk against the stone floor, trying to catch her breath and still her heart rate, unsure if she could restrain herself from replaying this in her bed that night.