Chapter 27: Vellichor

"I can't believe he's forcing you to work on a Hogsmeade weekend!" grumbled Ron as he helped himself to some more kippers and eggs.

"Professor Snape isn't forcing me to do anything. He simply requested my assistance for the day," Hermione replied calmly before taking another big bite of her buttered toast. As always, her nose was stuck in a book; this morning, it just so happened to be an annotated edition of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. Turning to the next page, she added, "And you know as well as I do that that is precisely what I signed up for with this apprenticeship."

"But today's Valentine's Day! I was thinking about taking you out on a little rendezvous …"

She could not help but grimace at the weird, little wink he gave her – only Ronald "No Clues About How Girls Work" Weasley himself would not think anything of fishy breath on a first date. And really, asking her out on the day of the actual date? It seemed like he had indeed not learnt anything from that Yule Ball fiasco back during fourth year. A deep sigh escaped her lips. She truly was not looking forward to the awkward chat the two of them would be forced to have soon if he was to continue to ignore the obvious truth that she just did not like him in that way.

Of course, Hermione was very much aware of the fact that today was Saint Valentine's Day; it was really kind of hard to miss with the endless amounts of decorations all over the Great Hall this morning. The walls were covered in tacky, pink paper hearts and overly scented, red flowers; there was confetti in the shape of puckered lips slowly falling from the Enchanted Ceiling above; and the tables were practically covered with those awful Muggle candy hearts with corny saying on them. Even the one dozen grumpy dwarves dressed in cupid costumes who had first been hired by Gilderoy Lockhart five years ago had returned yet again to deliver the castle inhabitants' anonymous love letters and valentines with the help of their untuned harps.

"Can't you just send an owl and request to help him on a different day?" Ron asked with a pleading pout.

Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. But before she had the chance to answer, one of the love messengers flying above their heads unexpectedly lost control of his golden wings and crashed right into the lap of an unfortunate fifth-year a few seats down, sending the content of the student's cereal bowl flying everywhere. Several minutes of chaotic turmoil across the entire Gryffindor table later, a disgusted Head Girl found herself silently swearing as she picked bits of soggy cornflakes from her milk-splattered locks.

"What are you and Snape even doing?" Harry, who had remained quiet thus far, then asked.

"I'm not sure. He didn't really specify. But I reckon it's probably just something mundane like picking up more supplies at the apothecary," Hermione said, hoping that the slight tremor in her voice would not give her away. Whilst it was true that she did not exactly know what the professor had planned, she was pretty much certain that it did not have anything to do with Potions or her apprenticeship; otherwise, his letter from last night surely would not have included so many weird and secretive instructions. Licking her dry lips, her look wandered to his empty seat at the High Table. She could not help but speculate about what the next few hours would hold, all whilst desperately trying to push that whole Valentine's Day business to the back of her mind.

"Have you made any progress yet with that research project Remus gave to you?" Hermione inquired about half an hour later as the trio was standing in line in the Entrance Hall waiting to be checked off Filch's list. Even though all seventh-years were technically considered legal adults in the wizarding world, they nevertheless still needed to sign in and out whenever they left castle grounds. That rule was one of several strict safety regulations implemented during the height of the war; however, even with Voldemort dead and most of his supporters imprisoned, it did not seem as though they would be relaxed anytime soon.

"None at all," groaned Harry, frustration clearly audible in his voice. "I have searched the entire library high and low, but I simply cannot seem to find a single book on the topic! At one point, I got so desperate that I even asked Madam Pince for help. But she was as unaccommodating as ever and simply shoved a few old scrolls into my hands which were written in some weird language I couldn't decipher. I really have no clue how I'm supposed to finish this assignment on time!"

"Harry, more likely than not, it's just Elder Futhark, the Old English runic alphabet! That's what was used for the vast majority of early literary pieces and magical theses in the wizarding world, which is also one of the main reasons why I was so adamant about choosing Ancient Runes as one of my electives. I know that you have always thought of it as a useless subject, but it is truly such an important part of –"

"Out of my way!" a deep, gravelly voice could suddenly be heard coming from behind them, making every single hair on the back of Hermione's neck stand up. Turning her head, she could see the Potions Master approaching in long, vigorous strides, his flowing, black robes and shoulder-length hair dancing around his figure almost menacingly as he aggressively forced his way through the large crowd of waiting students.

His presence instantly brought a lump to her throat. She had always thought of herself as a very rational person, and as such, she had often found herself annoyed by the many nights her dormmates had spent gossiping and giggling about boys. Granted, having a world-renowned Quidditch player be infatuated with her had been more than flattering, of course; and sharing a few innocent kisses with him whilst hidden behind the tall bookshelves of the school library had also been nice. But none of that had ever made her heart race the way it should have according to the other girls. She had never experienced the sensation of a thousand butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach, had never been about to completely lose her mind over a bloke. Or rather, it had been that way until only a few months ago, when she had first started to fall for her professor.

That man – that snarky, surly man surrounded by so much darkness and mystery, full of pretentious arrogance, jaw-dropping secrets and unnecessarily cruel insults – somehow made it so incredibly hard for her to stay in control of her own emotions whenever he was around. In his presence, everything else would immediately fade into the background and all that she would be able to see was him; all that would matter was him. His strong but elegant walk; his fingertips, which were horribly discoloured from years of daily brewing; his broad shoulders that made her feel desperate in all kinds of ways – she was helplessly obsessed with it all. It almost felt like merely the sound of his voice was already enough to turn her into a lovesick puppy that wanted nothing more than to catch his interest and become indispensable to him.

He was such a complicated character, but she loved that about him. Though unbelievably short-tempered and even downright mean at times, he had really shown her over these past few months how thoughtful and caring he could be. Yes, he was a very reserved and fairly taciturn individual, but she appreciated that, as she was very much the same. His unmatched brilliance and profound dedication to his craft were nothing but inspiring to her; and having only recently learnt the real truths about how much the former double agent had sacrificed over the last two decades, she could not help but marvel at his outstanding bravery and unconditional loyalty to the cause. He was so oftentimes harrowingly blunt and never ever sugar-coated things, but that was honestly something for which she was immensely grateful. Unlike Professor Dumbledore and the majority of the Order's members, he had not once attempted to conceal the world's cruel reality from any of them. He was one of the very few people who had never futilely tried to infantilised those destined to face the Dark Lord in the end. Therefore, no matter the cynical bitterness, the unpredictable mood swings, the cold sneering and the questionable remarks – Hermione was more than willing to put up with it all if that only meant that in return, she could get a tiny droplet of whatever it was that he for so long had been hiding behind his tyranny as the Dungeon Bat.

As Severus now swiftly brushed past them, with a seemingly annoyed yet vacant expression on his sunken face, she was so overwhelmed that if felt like her whole body had been set ablaze. His dark eyes held her gaze for only a millisecond; however, the look behind them was still intense enough to pierce right through her soul, fully taking her breath away.

But before she could give it too much thought, he had already disappeared again, escaping through the castle's enormous entrance doors. Struggling to keep her composure, Hermione took an unsteady step back. Not fully knowing what to expect from today, she was filled with both excitement and dread.

A short while later, the three friends were leisurely walking down the long, winding road leading to the wizarding settlement. Whilst the boys were engaged in a lively discussion about the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Hermione's head was filled with thoughts about a certain enigmatic wizard.

Truth be told, not much had happened in the two weeks since their emotionally charged conversation in the dungeon classroom. They had only seen each other a handful of times outside of their apprenticeship lessons and regular Potions class, and neither one of them had mentioned anything about their kiss or the subsequent course of events. Even their behaviour towards one another had not changed much; if anything, they had got even more awkward around each other. What exactly are we? was a question that often entered her mind these days. Were they now officially a couple; were they dating? Or was their relationship in some weird, in-between, "not yet ready to be labelled" stage? And what should she even call him – her boyfriend? God, what a bizarre title to use in association with a man like Severus Snape …

It was confounding thoughts like these which would frequently keep her up all night. But even trying her best to forget about them, she still could not help but worry about what was going to happen in a few months after her upcoming graduation. During the war, she had never really allowed herself to make any concrete plans for the future. Her only goal had always been to strive for the best marks possible, to soak up every last bit of knowledge thrown at her in a desperate bid to somehow outsmart Voldemort and his deranged followers. And so now that it was all finally over – now that she was finally free to again exist as something more than a mere chess piece trying to somehow win a rigged game – she honestly did not really know what to do with her life.

As a little girl, she had always wanted to become a dentist, just like her parents – but that dream just seemed like a distant memory now. A few years later, when she had first been introduced to the fairytale-like wizarding world, she had fallen in love with investigative journalism – but she would not even dare to imagine working in such a profession now, having experienced the sharp and brutal claws of the mendacious press many times herself. And at the beginning of year four, she had even briefly considered a career in the Ministry of Magic – but no amounts of money could ever convince her to work for such a tainted, broken system filled with good-for-nothing, power-hungry corruptionists now. And so, with her once so idealistic dreams irreversibly shattered into a thousand pieces, the only constant to now be found in her reflections about the future was him. All she cared about and wanted was him. In her mind, all would be well as long as he was there. What a crazy thought, considering how little time they had actually spent together so far.

But even so, she could not deny that she was absolutely terrified of what was to come. Because if she was being completely truthful with herself, she had to admit that she barely even knew her new love. Naturally, she knew all about his spy work and his heroic sacrifices during the war. However, since he was such a private person, she was indeed utterly oblivious to his life outside of Hogwarts. She did not really know anything about his background, she did not know he usually spent his summers, she did not even know where he lived. So how could she truly be sure that they were a perfect match? How could she be sure that whatever it was that they had right now would be strong enough to survive out there in the real world when she did not even know such trivial things as his favourite colour or his preferred brand of toothpaste? He had promised her that he would be by her side forever, and she did trust his word more than that of anyone else; however, she wondered whether she could truly be certain that his thoughts on their unwonted liaison would not just change one day. What if he eventually discovered that they really were not as compatible as he had previously thought? What would she do then?

Before long, the teenagers arrived in Hogsmeade, and Hermione soon bid her goodbyes to Harry and Ron. The two of them were going to pay a visit to Honeydukes before stopping by at the Three Broomsticks, where they would later be joined by Ginny, whereas she was going to walk further into the small village to meet up with her tutor. As she made her way past the countless little shops and cottages, she noticed how their pointed roofs, which were normally covered in a thick layer of snow during the colder season, were fully visible for once. The month of February had indeed been exceptionally warm so far. Warm enough, in fact, that Hermione was not even wearing her thick winter coat anymore; instead, she was merely dressed in some thin, thistle-coloured robes.

Strolling past Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop and resisting the temptation of the newly arrived stationery displayed in the store's rectangular windows, she turned left into a small, cobbled side street which she knew to be rarely used. As she cautiously took a few steps into the narrow alleyway, her eyes darted left and right. But there was no sign of a certain pale-skinned man anywhere to be found. How odd – weren't they supposed to meet at this time? Had she read the note incorrectly?

"Hermione."

Genuinely caught off guard, the witch let out a startled squeal before spinning around just in time to see Severus step out of the shadows behind her. She stared at him like a deer in headlights, not quite sure how to react. Ever since that momentous ball night, she had not been privately addressing him as Professor Snape or Sir anymore; however, at the same time, using his given name felt way too intimate for some reason.

So instead, after another short moment of hesitancy, she simply croaked out a weak, "Hey."

"Good morning," Severus replied, sounding virtually indifferent. "Are you ready to go?"

"I guess."

He looked at her with pursed lips. "To get to our actual destination, we will need to … Apparate."

"Oh!" Apparate? What in Godric's name is happening?! "All right, sure …"

Her stomach in knots, she warily stepped forward into his outstretched arms, giving him an awkward half hug; and with a small, faint pop, the pair then disappeared.

Severus let go of her as soon as they arrived, almost as though touching her was scorching his skin. Disliking most other human beings with a passion, he had never been one for physical contact. In fact, simple gestures such as handshakes were oftentimes already enough to make him want to recoil in disgust. But with her, it was different – she did not repulse him, no, she practically pulled him towards her as forcefully as gravity itself, and that scared him. It scared him tremendously. He knew that aching for her like that was dangerous, but he simply could not help it. To him, she was like the world's most addictive drug which had him blindly chasing high after high; and whether he liked it or not, he was already irremediably hooked.

Keeping one hand close to his concealed wand, he stepped away from his travelling companion and quickly scanned the small and rather dirty dead-end street that they were currently standing in with skilled eyes. He needed to make absolutely sure that they were alone and that no one had followed them. Whether it would be a vindictive Death Eater out for revenge or just a snooping student who was too nosy for their own good – he was not about to take any chances either way.

"Where are we?" he could hear Hermione ask.

"Porto."

"Porto?" Turning around, he saw her quirk one of her eyebrows in surprise. "You mean to tell me that we are in Portugal right now?"

The brunette was clearly impressed. It was a known fact that most wizarding folk resorted to the use of Portkeys when it came to transcontinental travelling; being able to utilise Apparition for long-distance journeys like that without accidentally causing splinching or any other serious injuries – especially whilst taking another person along with you – was truly a testimony of great magical ability.

Blatantly ignoring her question, he instead asked, "Are you wearing Muggle clothing as instructed?"

"Yes."

"Good. Take off your robes then and hand them to me," he told her as he himself was already working on opening the first of the many buttons running along the front of his long cloak.

Once they had both taken off their outer garments, Severus transfigured them into small silver coins which he then slipped into his pockets for easier transport. Following this, he also decided to apply a potent Warming Charm to the two of them for good measure. It was then that Hermione chose to break the silence.

"It suits you," she said quietly, just as he was tucking his wand into his sleeve.

Her words were met with a look of mild bewilderment on his part, but she merely gave him another one of her charming smiles and pointed to his chest. Glancing down, he realised that she was talking about the thick, woollen jumper he was wearing. His eyes widened in surprise. Having proven itself to be trusty insulation from the bitter cold down in the dungeons, he had been wearing her birthday gift on an almost daily basis over the past few weeks – of course, always making sure that it was perfectly concealed by his many layers of dark clothing. When he had got dressed earlier, however, he had not once considered the fact that she would actually see him in it later on. He felt an unusual warmth creep in his cheeks.

"Come on now," he mumbled in a husky voice, trying awfully hard to dismiss how hot his face seemed all of a sudden. "We need to get going."

"Where are we headed?"

"You'll see."

And with that, they started walking. As he silently guided her through an intricate labyrinth of deserted backstreets, Severus had a million thoughts racing through his mind. He still was not sure what had got into him to risk exposing their budding relationship like that just to bring her here – as always, the brightest witch of her age had him acting like an impulsive fool. She really made it so ridiculously easy for him to forget all reason, made it so ridiculously easy for his behaviour to become dumb and irrational. He wondered whether Hermione was even aware of how powerful she was – whether she knew how fast his heart would beat against his ribcage whenever she was near or whether she had ever noticed how painfully hard his jaw would clench whenever he would unintentionally catch a glimpse of the curves hidden underneath that plain uniform. Half of the time, he could not even think straight anymore because of her; so much so that during their latest apprenticeship lesson, he had inadvertently put his wand back in the wrong pocket of his cloak, just to then panic and frantically search for it when he had not been able to immediately find it again. Taking her on this silly daytrip was just yet another example of how rash his decisions had become lately. There was no doubt in his mind that he would one day burn in hell for allowing himself to continue to give into this absurd infatuation of his. Still, he had not been lying when he had said that his heart would be hers forever. In spite of everything, he wanted so badly to give her a somewhat normal dating experience, and so he would be damned if he was not going to make the best of it for as long as it lasted. After all, she deserved the world.

The two of them finally turned into what seemed like a main street, and Severus made sure to keep close to the young woman, unobtrusively shielding her from the other pedestrians. Needless to say, he was nonetheless careful to not actually touch her in any way since it would not do any good to appear overly friendly lest they did run into someone they knew. That way, in the unlikely case that they did, he could simply make up an excuse about some innocent apprenticeship stuff. Surely, the headmaster would back him up on that, even though he did not know about their outing. But of course, Severus hoped that it would not come to that. Anonymity had been one of the reasons he had gone out of his way to bring her all the way to a different country.

Walking past a colourful array of historic façades, they eventually came to a hold in front of the Art Nouveau building he had been looking for.

"Livraria Chardron," Hermione brokenly read aloud, trying to decipher the baroque lettering engraved on the glass panel above the entrance door with squinted eyes. "A bookshop?"

"One of the best bookshops the Muggle world has to offer, to be exact," Severus answered almost casually before quickly ushering her inside.

He could hear her gasp in surprise as soon as they entered, and he could not help but openly smirk in response, thinking about how similar her reaction was to what his had been the first time he had visited this place. And who could really blame her – the Portuguese bookstore was indeed an amazing sight to behold. Everything from the ornate pillars to the stained-glass ceiling to the pyramid-shaped lamps and the plaster busts of famous authors lining the first floor made the small building with the Neo-Gothic interior look more like a sumptuous miniature mansion rather than a simple shop. Every inch of wall space was covered in tall shelves holding an extensive range of books in all different kinds of languages, and there were even tracks in the floor for ladders which could be glided along to more easily reach the countless tomes. The store's centrepiece, however, was certainly the forked spiral staircase with the red carpeted stairs and the detailed, wooden balusters leading to the upstairs gallery. Livraria Lello was nothing short of an architectural masterpiece, and Severus could not have described his fondness for this one-of-a-kind literary mecca even if he had tried.

He watched on as Hermione immediately made a beeline to the nearest table, eagerly starting to look through the displayed novels. As she picked up a random book and swiftly skimmed over its blurb before flipping through the pages, she looked so happy and innocent; but Severus knew deep down that that could not be further from the truth. The grim reality was that there was simply no way that she could ever again feel genuinely carefree. None of them could, not after all that the war had done to them. It was kind of sad, really. Just like many other Muggle-borns, she had used to so foolishly glorify the magic world. However, with everything that she had been through over the years – all of the terrible, terrible things she had been forced to witness as well as the many gut-wrenching losses she had been made to endure – she must have long ago realised how it was all nothing but a lie. And that was killing him inside. He desired nothing more than to give her a normal life; a life filled with happiness and joy and laughter; a life without any demons and trauma. Yes, it might very well be a delusional and entirely unachievable goal, especially considering the fact that sometimes, he somehow suspected that her suffering had not solely been caused by the conflict between light and dark. But at this moment, in this bookshop, it seemed like she was at least able to experience an illusion of normalcy, even if it was only for a short while.

And that was something for which he was so very thankful.

Many hours later, the odd couple found themselves sitting on one of the many wooden benches found along the city's paved promenade. The turbulent susurrus of the Atlantic surf in the background, Severus slyly observed his apprentice as she carefully picked up one book after the other from the staggeringly high pile of newly purchased novels and textbooks beside her, using her wand to shrink them before stuffing them into the extension-charmed pockets of her jeans. As she was doing so, she was excitedly babbling on and on about her new possessions, telling him how delighted she was to have finally got a chance to delve into Muggle literature again.

"Oh!" she suddenly stopped herself, making a short pause. "I've just noticed … you didn't even get anything for yourself."

He had to suppress a smirk. "That is quite all right. I was more than content with just watching you be so high in spirits for once."

Hermione became visibly flustered. "Well … then I would like to thank you for bringing me here. It's a memory I will cherish forever. And also the book you gifted me for my birthday … I-I never got to thank you for that either. So thank you. So much."

A shy smile on her lips, she tried to reach out for his hand. But it caught Severus by surprised, and so he hastily pulled back – a decision which he immediately regretted, especially as the hurt expression on her face nearly broke his heart.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to –"

"NO! No, don't be, please! It was not my intention to –, I –" The words got stuck in his throat. "Ah, goddammit …"

She looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Is everything okay? D-did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not! No, I just –, I –" He let out a despaired sigh. "I will be honest with you, Hermione. I do not really know how to act right now, considering our … circumstances."

"Neither do I. But we can work that out together, can't we?" There it was again – another beaming smile gorgeous enough to make him question everything that he thought he knew. "I mean, it's not necessarily like everything needs to miraculously fall into place right away. We have the rest of our lifetimes to figure it all out … right?"

Hermione was still smiling; however, her voice wavered slightly at that last word which was something that he found a bit weird. Why did she seem so unsure all of a sudden?

"Like I told you … until my very last day if you'll have me." Her weak smile promptly turned into an unbelievably broad grin at this, but Severus could return it only half-heartedly. There was simply too much going on in his mind, too much that he needed to get off his chest. He groaned internally. "Though I do have to admit that I am … scared."

Hermione regarded him with astonishment, without a doubt surprised by him being so open and honest about his emotions for once. "Yes?"

"Yes. Do not get me wrong. I –" He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. "I am absolutely mad about you. But by allowing myself to see you as something more than just another irritating, good-for-nothing student not worthy of my time, I let myself be vulnerable, and that is something I have never done before. After all, any sort of emotional attachment would have been a death sentence during the war …"

Snape hung his head in defeat. "It is rather ridiculous, really. I am so terrified of becoming closer to you, of falling for you even more. Because what if someone were to find out and then forced us apart? What if I gave you my all only to have you then taken away from me again? Just the thought of it petrifies me. But on the other hand, I am also scared of everything going well, of us somehow finding a way to actually be happy with each other. I guess what I am trying to say that I am afraid of this – whatever it is that we have – of it becoming more … but at the same time, I so desperately want it to become something more. And quite frankly, I do not know how to deal with that."

"I … I feel the same way," uttered Hermione, a slight frown on her face. "I'm scared of what the future will hold. I'm scared of being found out. And I'm admittingly also a little scared of opening up to you."

"Why?"

"I guess I … I guess I'm afraid of not being good enough for you." She let out a hollow laugh. "I'm afraid of being completely unravelled by you and you finding nothing you want in there."

Severus could only shake his head. Her not good enough for him? The world must have gone truly insane for her to think such a thing!

"That is certainly a stupid thing to believe. If anything, I am the one who cannot understand what someone like you would ever see in a … in a bad person like me."

"Don't say that."

"But it is true," he insisted. "I am not a good man. I never was a good man. So I cannot help but feel like I am stealing something from you. You deserve so much, yet you are stuck with an old mess like me who has nothing to offer other than the lifetime of trauma-induced burden I am carrying around with me."

He took a deep, almost wheezing breath. "The fact is that I had to live a lie for so long that not even I am sure that I know who I am anymore. So how can I possibly give you the best version of myself if I do not even know what that looks like?"

Hermione noticeably pondered for a moment before softly replying, "You are more than your mistakes, you know? You're more than your past. You have a good heart – and that's good enough for me."

Severus snorted. "Most people would probably say that I do not have a heart at all."

She cracked a half-smile. "Well, I for one do believe that it exists, and I also think that it's actually a lot bigger than you lead on," she countered without hesitation; and when she then went to grab his hand again, he let her.

For a while, they sat in silence. Their fingers interlocked, the pair listened to the calming sound of the waves breaking on the beach as the salty haze of the sea engulfed them. Staring into the distance, Severus could see the sky slowly turning into hues of orange and red. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the sun would start to set over the ocean, compelling them to leave.

Instinctively rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand, his thoughts were running a thousand miles per hour. It was still incomprehensible to him how bringing her here had ever sounded like a good idea in the first place. Any reasonable person would have surely refrained from doing anything that would take such an inappropriate affair like theirs even further – and yet, he had done so. However, what was maybe even worse was that he was actually glad about it. Because he wanted to share these kinds of things with her; he wanted to show her the things he loved, and he also wanted to know about the things she loved. He craved nothing more than to be able to act like a normal couple – taking her out, sending her flowers, holding her hand, caressing her skin – regardless of how improper it might feel. And so his personal distaste for Valentine's Day and other idiotic traditions like it aside, Severus could not deny that today had been one of the best days of his entire life. His heart had felt so unfamiliarly full as he had watched her explore and fall in love with a place that he himself held so very dear. But the moment that stood out the most to him – the one that would be ingrained in his mind forever – was when Hermione had so willingly stepped into his arms to be Apparated away to an undisclosed location. In that split second, he had held so much power over her as he really could have brought her anywhere without her having any way to stop him from doing so. But besides a short moment of initial surprise, she had not even batted an eye before agreeing to it. And that had been something which had told him a fundamental thing about their relationship: she trusted him.

"Why did you hate me so much for all these years?"

Severus looked up in surprise at her sudden enquiry. "What?"

"Why did you hate me?" Hermione repeated herself, staring at him with a blank face. "You practically loathed me from the very moment I first set foot in your classroom."

"I never loathed you. I just … found you to be incredibly annoying, and I do not think that you can really blame me for that," he said in a smug yet humorous tone. "But even if that had not been the case, I still had to play my part as a supposed follower of the Dark Lord as to not blow my cover, of course. Especially considering your well-known connection to Potter."

"Fine. But even so, why did you have to discredit me as a student? My answers were always on point, but you just flat-out refused to acknowledge that!"

Severus let out a nearly inaudible chuckle. "Yes, they were. But they were also, without fail, a word for word recital of what was written in the textbook."

"So? That doesn't make them wrong!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly.

"It doesn't, but you are simply a lot more capable than that. Those colourless definitions are for regular idiots like Longbottom or Weasley to memorise; and from day one, I was well aware of the fact that you had so much more hidden potential. Even though I admittingly did dislike you, I still continually tried to push you to strive for excellence. I wanted you to come up with your own interpretations and solutions, just like a real Potions Mistress would – just like I knew you could." He grinned almost boyishly. "And whether I like it or not, at the end of the day, you will always be a Gryffindor at heart, and as such, you easily let yourself be controlled by your emotions. So I knew that if I could only make you angry enough, you would go above and beyond with your work. Even if it ultimately would have just been in an effort to defy me."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "Unbelievable …" she finally rasped with obvious exasperation in her voice. "You really are such an arse!"

A wry smirk crept across the professor's face – the adorableness of her mad face was truly irrefutable.

By the time they apparated back into Hogsmeade, it was already getting dark outside. From their little hiding spot in the back alley, Hermione could see some of her fellow students walk by, undoubtedly on their way back to the castle. Checking her wristwatch, she realised that there were only about 20 minutes left until curfew – she would have to hurry if she did not want to be late.

Hearing something shift behind her, she turned back around and was greeted by the Potions Master holding out her robes to her.

"Here," he said. "Get dressed."

Once they had both put their wizarding attire back on, Hermione looked up at him expectantly as she waited for him to say something, but Severus remained silent. All he did was stare right back at her, his pale face eerily void of any expression. She always hated it when he did that – coming across as an emotionless bastard was one of his many infamous strategies to scare young students into submission. Those dead eyes had oftentimes intimidated her as a timid first-year, and even now, they managed to make her feel awfully scrutinised for some reason. Not being able to stand it any longer, she decided to speak up.

"Today's been beyond phenomenal," she stated softly, subconsciously tugging at her sleeve. "Once again, thank you so much!"

"My pleasure."

The low rumble of his deep voice reverberated through her bones, and Hermione had to keep herself from shuddering. She really loved the way he talked; it just sounded so delectably gruff and rich, and if given the chance, she could listen to him speak for hours. To speak the truth, she probably would have paid a small fortune for just one evening of him reading one of her favourite books to her with her head comfortably rested on his lap. It was almost embarrassing how much of an effect he had on her.

Yet again, there was an awkward, short pause. "Well," Severus then finally muttered, clearing his throat. "I suppose that we should really start to get back now."

Hermione's eyes dropped to the floor. "Yeah …"

"You go first. I'll follow in a few minutes," he said.

However, when she did not even make an attempt to move, the look on his face soon became puzzled. "What?" he asked perplexed.

Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks. She was so nervous that her head was nearly starting to spin, but at the same time, she was highly focused; because she knew that she would certainly come to regret it later if she did not take the chance now. After all, he was right – she was a Gryffindor, and overemotional or not, that also meant that she was brave and courageous! So taking a wobbly step forward and supporting herself with one hand on his upper arm, she stood up on the tips of her toes and gently pressed her mouth against his.

She could hear her own heartbeat pulsating in her ears as his intoxicating scent immediately flooded her senses, making it very hard to breathe. Not having kissed since that fateful ball, everything seemed so new all over again – the smooth feeling of his soft lips, their thin shape, their downturned curvature. At first, they felt oddly cold and so, so tense. But then they finally started to softened and gradually melted into hers. The kiss was not nearly as passionate as the previous one they had shared – it was more of a closed-mouth, puppy love kind of peck really – but it still did not fail to make her knees week. In that short moment of intimacy, utterly drunk on endorphins, nothing else mattered – neither the complicated nature of their relationship nor her crippling anxiety surrounding the upcoming N.E.W.T.s or even the terrible nightmares given to her by a war she had never wanted to fight in the first place. The only thing on her mind right now was him.

She slowly pulled back, and at first, she was scared that she had gone too far – his stern gaze was enough to make her want to squirm like a frightened eleven-year-old again. But then his hard mask of coldness finally crumbled, and the corners of his mouth lifted just ever so slightly, turning into a faint smile. Raising his hand and gently capturing her chin between his thumb and index finger, he held her face in place as his hungry eyes locked with hers.

"But now you should really go," he whispered hoarsely before letting go again.

Hermione drew a shaky breath. Not wanting to push it, she gave him a wordless nod before turning around and sprinting out of the alley. As she hurried down Hogsmeade's main street, she could not help but break out into a big, cheesy grin. Oh, she knew without a doubt that she was going to be late now, and she definitely was not looking forward to being reprimanded by Filch either – but damn, it had been more than worth it!