Here I am again *shuffles feet*. And after posting this I will work on my dark, Byzantine fantasy romance. I will... *more shuffling*

I am so happy that people like this little fic and are as invested in it and the ss/hg ship as I am. It's nice to know I'm not alone in my obsession *grin*

Also, I did not start a third story. I didn't. Because that would be utterly insane...

Hermione dropped her books and her wand whipped into her hand. Her pulse drummed. Fuck. Fuck. "Get out, Ron."

He lifted his hands, palm out, obviously empty. "Look, Mione –Hermione— I know I messed everything up. Everything." He pushed his fingers through his hair and Hermione's wand hand twitched. "But we can start again. We are meant to be together. We have been from the very beginning. You know that." He winced. "This thing with Snape. I know I shouldn't have pressured you, but really, a joke's a joke. You're taking it too far."

"It is not a joke." She bit out every word.

"Come on. Snape? You're going to let Snape touch you in every way you wouldn't let me?"

Her face burned, anger boiling through her. He was moving from a scandalous suggestion to a completely offensive one. Her magic flared in her hair, it lifted and the familiar metallic stink filled her senses. What kind of ignorant shit was he? Not one mention of how she was his friend. That he liked her. Even a wild stab that he loved her. No, it was all about what he wanted. Did Ron see her as some kind of flesh doll? One with which only he was allowed to play?

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'm going to let him. And you know what? I will enjoy every single second." She jabbed her wand at the door. "Now get out. Before I tell your father, or Remus." She gave him a twisted smile. "Or Severus."

His hands curled into fists. "Hermione." Her name came out between gritted teeth. "Be sensible. You must see this is wrong."

"Why do you care?" She shrugged. "Why care about who I give myself to first?"

"Because we should be together. Mum said…Mum approves of us." His face flushed, with anger or eagerness she couldn't tell in the half shadows of the room. "And the fact that muggle-borns –when you get going, when a wizard has you first— you love to get down to it. Honest, you will."

Hermione stared at him, a pain stabbing under her ribs at his words. "Is this what you've always thought about me?"

"You're my friend. You've always been my friend, Hermione. But we both have needs."

"You've had girlfriends." They were free to leave the house now so if sex was what he needed why wasn't he out hunting down Lavender Brown? "I'm very happy for you to go out and find someone else."

"We don't need other people." He let out a slow sigh and took a step away from the door. Heat flared through Hermione and her grip tightened on her wand. A hex formed on her lips. "I'm saying this all wrong." He gave her the lopsided grin she had once swooned over. It didn't work, it had long stopped working, and even if it hadn't, she was on the edge of panic. "You're the brains. Can't you see? You don't need another man to teach you. I can teach you."

"No, Ron." She shook her head. "This –he— is what I want."

"Hermione…"

Ron reached out for her and she staggered back, away from his touch. Behind her, the fire flared green in her hearth. Ron froze and in the same instant, an arm wrapped around her, pulling her against a hard chest. Parchment and herbs. Severus.

Hermione let out a relieved breath, but still she didn't lower her wand. She would never make that mistake.

"Mr Weasley." His voice was low, quiet, the Potions Master at his most deadly. "What are you doing in Miss Granger's room?"

Ron straightened and his expression was mulish. "Talking."

"At the point of her wand?"

"We were, weren't we, Hermione?"

She could support him. Fall back on something of their old friendship. Yet, she didn't seem to know him anymore. He appeared to be blinded by the need to sleep with her to the exclusion of everything else. Including common sense. "He was talking. I was asking him to leave."

Ron's face darkened. "You can't choose him. He's a Death Eater. A murderer."

Severus' wand joined hers and the crackle of his power danced across her skin. "She can and she has. Leave, Mr Weasley before I call you out. I am more than within my rights. And as you so kindly pointed out, I have killed before."

Ron blinked. The realisation hit him quick and hard that he was suddenly in the position of being called to duel by Severus Snape. He stumbled back against the door, his hand searching blindly for the doorknob.

"This is your last warning. Heed it."

Ron fled.

Hermione's wand arm dropped and she almost sagged. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention when I entered the room. I didn't think he was so familiar with my wards. He was already inside. He didn't…he didn't touch me."

Severus turned her in his arms. His wand had vanished, and he tilted her chin up. His obsidian eyes fixed on her, held her. "You aren't at fault, Hermione." His soft words warmed her, his fingers gentle on her cheek making her heart beat hard. Her dream, her fantasy, the memory of the photograph in the Prophet flickered through her thoughts.

"Is that what you want?"

She barely registered his words before his lips were on hers, sure, smooth, the light buss of familiarity. Her chest tightened, her eyes drifting shut.

"Such an easily pleased little witch."

She gave him an embarrassed smile and let out a long breath and pressed her forehead to his throat. He'd changed again, once more in his wizarding robes, all -supposedly- repressed correctness. She shouldn't let herself fall so easily, but she couldn't seem to help it. "You knew. Even though he didn't get near me."

"This knew." Severus lifted his hand away, showing the underside of his ring. The faint hints of magic still clung to it in a silver mist. "I…felt your anger, disappointment, fear."

"Thank you for coming. I was about to hex him."

"Next time, drop him the minute he opens his mouth."

She laughed, though there was a thick vein of sadness, of bitterness to it. How close had she come to making a massive mistake with Ron? If Lavender Brown hadn't intervened in the Sixth Year, would Ron's utter belief that they should be a couple still remain? Or was she simply someone –something— unattainable? She couldn't reason Ron's actions. She wondered if he could himself.

Severus placed a kiss against her forehead and stood back. He straightened and in the thin light of her room appeared to be the stark and forbidding Potions Master again. And really that fierce authority did not make her belly flip. It didn't.

"You have your reading. I have my role as your social secretary." His dark voice dripped disdain, but she couldn't help herself. She smiled. He touched her cheek, his calloused thumb moving to draw a line under her bottom lip. "Stay out of further trouble, Miss Granger." He gave her a brief bow. "Until tomorrow."

She expected him to floo away, but he left by her bedroom door.

Hermione stared at the closed door and let out a slow groan. She hoped this was the last time Ron decided to act like an idiot. She winced. It was Ron. He did seem to have an aptitude for it.

She sighed and flopped onto her bed, staring up at the smooth ceiling. Her skin still tingled from Severus' touch. She stroked her lip, carefully, not wanting to disturb the memory of his thumb, his lips against hers…

"Circe's fat pigs!" The curse burned from her, her hands slapping hard against the mattress. She couldn't give in to this crush. Severus wanted –demanded— experience. She couldn't spend her time mooning over every slight trace of him on her skin like a Second Year.

She closed her eyes and against all of her good intentions, the feeling of his breath stirring her skin and the light brush of his lips over her forehead made her belly dip. Had that been affection? Or was this how the secretive wizard behaved with his…women?

Hermione growled at herself, used her wand to flick her dropped books back into her hand, lit a lamp and willed herself back into her research.

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