Chapter Two

Snape was already awake and propped on his elbow, watching her with calm, dark eyes. His hair was loose and spilled over his shoulder, trailing onto the bed.

"I'm beginning to understand it," he said.

"What's that, Sev'rus?" Hermione murmured, breaking through the cobwebs of sleep that still encased her brain. She blinked, taking in the bordello room. "Here again, huh?"

"Apparently." He reached out and touched her on the shoulder, and it startled her, the warmth of his hand on her bare skin. Her gaze flickered to his fingers before returning to his face. His brows were drawn together, but not in anger. No, they sloped on his forehead like the line of a roof, and his eyes were pensive beneath them. "I didn't need you to defend me tonight."

She yawned, and her jaw cracked. "So? That doesn't mean that, for once in your life, you don't deserve to have someone defend you." Rolling to her side so she could look him in the face, she mirrored his posture and propped her head on her hand. "Besides, Lavender was beyond the pale. She needs a good slapping."

Moving slowly as if trying not to startle her, Snape trailed his fingers down a lock of her long hair where it lay over her shoulder. "You're so brash."

"I know, I know. Such a Gryffindor. You've said it to me enough times."

His mouth quirked up. He studied her curl as it wound around his fingers. "I liked your hex so much, I dosed her drink at the party with a potion to mimic the same effect, except it will happen much more slowly. By next week, her left bosom will be hanging to her knees. The effect will fade very slowly, and it won't be reversible in the meantime."

She gasped in laughter and smacked him on the arm. "You prat! You know she'll think it was me."

His sloe eyes warmed, and he sounded almost regretful when he tapped his chest and said, "Slytherin."

Her gaze trailed to the pectoral he'd touched, and she noticed crisp, crinkled black hairs scattered lightly around his nipples and sliding down his abdomen and beneath the covers. The blanket with its repellent ermine trim draped over his waist and above it, Snape laid naked and unashamed, his taut stomach and chest rippling as he breathed. When she managed to pull her gaze back to his face, his eyes were glowing with good humour and something dark. Warm.

Gods, she thought and swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

His hand tangled in her mane once more, and his thumb slipped out to brush her jaw with a gentleness that caused every fine hair on her body to stand on end. Daring much, Hermione once more brushed her fingers over the scars on his neck.

Snape's eyes shuttered immediately, losing every hint of warmth. "Don't."

"Why not? Does it hurt?" She stopped moving, but let her hand rest flat and soft against the angry ridges.

"No, they're appalling. They… It makes me uncomfortable." He tossed his face and flexed his neck like a head-shy horse. Hermione's hand slid to the sheets between them.

She watched him patiently as his eyes darted around the room, anywhere but back to her. "They're just scars," she whispered. He didn't settle. "Severus. Severus, look." She rolled on her back and slid the blanket down her left side, keeping her hand cupped around her breast so the top of it was exposed, but the nipple remained covered. "See? I have scars, too."

Finally, he turned to look, and Hermione felt his gaze like a brand on the fat, ropy scar she'd received from a vicious Sectumsempra in her fifth year. It descended from her collar bone and bisected her breast. In fact, that was just what it had done, dividing it in two, straight across the nipple. It had taken a massive amount of reconstructive spells and potions to ensure it healed to look even remotely normal.

Showing it to Severus made her feel vulnerable and exposed. She knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, but it hit at the core of her femininity. After all, Ron had supposedly loved her, and even he had been put off by it, choosing not to touch it as they had sex. He'd close his eyes and turn his face away, and Hermione had always wondered if he had been imagining someone else in her place. Someone who hadn't been marked by the war as she had.

When she heard Snape make a pained noise deep in his throat, she flushed and jerked the sheets back up to cover herself.

Immediately, he was braced above her. His forearm found its way beneath her neck, and he cradled her as he placed the flat of his hand on her chest and slid the blanket down inch by torturous inch. The wizard didn't stop when he reached her nipple, instead choosing to expose her entire scar which didn't end until halfway down her ribcage.

"Hermione," he growled, and his eyes flicked from her chest to her eyes and back to her chest. "You are so lovely to me." And he leaned over her, his body curling around hers, and dragged his tongue over the entire length of the scar, traversing her ribs and the entire round of her breast.

She moaned in spite of herself, a shocked, dark noise, and his cock grew massively hard where he pressed into her hip. Hermione watched him part his lips and lean forward to take her mangled nipple into the wet cavern of his mouth.

She startled, jolted awake by her own cries of pleasure. Her tank top was rucked up, exposing her breasts, and her scar throbbed with pleasure and awareness.

Panting, she allowed her hand to slide beneath the edge of her knickers as she thought of his intent expression and the hardness of him pressed into her and the silk of his hair as it stroked her naked skin.

It had just been a dream, but that didn't make it any easier for Hermione to meet her boss's eyes the next day. She compensated by being aggressively friendly. Swanning into Snape's Apothecary that morning, she sang, "I've brought coffee! It's a very dark roast. You'll love it."

He emerged from the laboratory, wiping his hands on a soft-looking chamois. "Thank the gods. I didn't sleep much, and I could use a cup."

She had slipped on her tulip-covered Potions apron, and begun rearranging a tray with some scones she'd baked and pouring his coffee which he liked with a shocking amount of sugar, when she glanced at him and froze. His shirt was unbuttoned… just one button, right at the top, allowing her a glimpse of his Adam's apple and the very edge of his scar.

Hermione found herself unable to tear her eyes away.

He stopped instantly, convulsively, and looked around. "What are you gaping at?" Comprehension spread across his face, and appearing mortified, he reached up to close his collar.

"No, please don't. You don't need to, Severus."

He stopped, but then shook his head and buttoned it. "It's fine, Hermione."

"It's just… I know it rubs when you're buttoned up," she said and reached forward, loosening his collar once again. In a movement small enough that she'd be able to play it off as accidental, Hermione allowed her little finger to graze his scar. She shivered and felt colour rush to her face. The witch knew that if her ears had been visible beneath her hair, they'd be nearly glowing red in embarrassment. "There," she whispered, smoothing his lapels.

I just touched Snape. I unbuttoned his shirt.

"Thank you," he said, standing closer to her than he ever had before. ""I know they're appalling."

Something in her mind chimed like a bell, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the scent of warm man tinged with bitter and aromatic herbs. "Not at all."

The smile he gave her was slow treacle, and she blushed at the sweetness of it.

The bell above the door tinkled, and the spell broke. Hermione stepped back from him and turned her flushed cheeks to the tray where she finished preparing his coffee.

"Potter," said Snape, and she looked up to see Harry holding the door open for Ginny and James. Her friend cradled his baby with his left arm, holding the six month old against his chest. "Mrs. Potter," the brewer added politely. Hermione was surprised that there was no sneer on his face, although he continued to use the flat tone she'd become used to hearing when he addressed Harry.

"Mister Snape," Harry said, a smile spreading across his face. He lightly joggled Albus Severus and rubbed his tiny back. "Gin and I were out and just wanted to stop by and thank you for coming last night. It really meant a lot to us."

Snape inclined his head an inch, but said nothing.

Ginny stepped forward, pulling little James with her. "Honestly, we want to thank you for so much more than that." She moved into the pool of light that spilled into the Apothecary shop from the big bay windows at the front of the shop. The bright sun made her hair flame a vibrant red, and her eyes glowed as she stretched her hand out to touch Snape on his marked forearm.

Hermione saw his eyes dart to Ginny's hair and eyes and caress the witch's rosebud mouth, and then he stepped back, away from the hand that attempted to bridge the distance between them. Uncrossing his arms, he put them behind his back in a clear signal that he didn't wish to be touched.

Although to most, his face would have appeared impassive, the curly-haired witch knew him well enough to see an echo of heavy, crippling sadness haunt him for a moment. Hermione saw it in the tenseness of his shoulders and in the tiny wrinkle between his brows and the shallowness of his quiet breaths. His eyes flicked to the small, black-haired child with green eyes, and his lips tightened.

"All right," Ginny whispered. "All right. I won't touch. Harry and I just wanted you to know how very much we appreciate you and the work you've done for all of us. Without you, we wouldn't be here today. I wouldn't have a safe world to raise my boys. I wouldn't have my Harry. He'd probably be dead at the hands of Vold…" Her voice had been rising with passion as she spoke, but her words cut off abruptly when she saw Snape's eyes narrow at the name. "At the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Again, he inclined his head an inch, but this time he spoke. "I am… glad." Snape had been studying the rows of ingredients that ran parallel to the line of windows, but his gaze then slid to Ginny's face once more in a canny, secretive move. "I am glad that you have a safe world in which to raise your boys."

He watched her for a long moment, and Hermione felt an insane and selfish urge to interpolate herself between the two, shouting, Me! Look at me like that! But no one looked at her. In fact, everyone appeared to have forgotten she was even in the room except for sweet James who waved to her with a babyish smile. She took a shuddering breath and curled her fingers back to him. His smile widened, and Hermione saw how much he looked like Harry.

Snape shook himself, and turned to walk back to his laboratory, signalling an end to the conversation. He stopped, just by the threshold. "Hermione, there's an issue with several orders. Come see me once the Potters are done using up the time for which I pay you." He left without a further word to Harry or Ginny.

Silence held tight and stiff to the front room of the Apothecary shop.

Harry tapped a finger to his chin. "Did that go well? I can never tell with him."

Hermione answered, "Yes. He's very touched, but he's been buttoned up for so long, he doesn't know how to show it." She stared after him.

"He could barely look at us," Ginny whispered.

Hermione wanted to weep.

"It's because you look so much like your father, Harry. And Gin, with your red hair and pale skin, you remind him of Lily. He's still…" Swallowing repeatedly to ease the ache in her throat, she rasped, "Well, you know, Harry. You saw his memories." She refused to examine the cause of the tears that burned to be released.

Harry looked shame-faced. "I should never have given them to you, Herms. I should have been brave enough to give them back myself instead of asking you to do it, but I was so shocked. I didn't know how to react, knowing that Snape loved my mum."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny scolded.

"I know, Gin." He pushed his hair back to rub his forehead, and Hermione saw his lightning bolt, just a faint line since Voldemort had been defeated.

Hermione's lips trembled as she smiled at him, and they exchanged a few more words before hugging each other in goodbye. She received a moist kiss from James and pressed her mouth to Albus's forehead, breathing in his sweet powder smell. The little family waved as they left, and she watched them with her heart aching and aching as Ginny's flame-red hair caught the light once more out in the alley.

Bending over slightly, her hands on either side of the coffee tray, she took several deep breaths, fighting the knowledge that was breaking over her in a slow, inexorable wave. She thought of Snape's solemn face and lean frame. She thought of how he had opened himself up to her even while keeping the rest of the world at more than arm's length. She thought of his wicked humour, and she could no longer deny the tenderness for him that washed through her or the passion she felt when he was near.

How foolish she was. Half of the reason I feel so close to him is because of the dreams. These feelings are stirring in me because of a set of experiences that aren't even real. Hermione laughed without humour.

In and out, in and out she breathed until her chest eased and the room around her no longer threatened to blur from tears. Standing up, she cleared her throat. Enough of this nonsense. With a brisk tap of her wand, she cast a Warming Charm over Snape's coffee and picked up the tray.

"Severus?" Relieved her voice sounded normal, she sought him out in the laboratory.

"Here," he said.

He was sitting at his Potions station, his profile to the doorway where she stood. His forearms were flat to the table top, and he stared into the middle distance, his braid trailing down his back. Hermione thought he looked forlorn and set the coffee tray next to him, allowing her freed hand to rest on his shoulder and then slip down his braid.

His response was to quirk a brow at her temerity.

"Drink your coffee. It'll perk you up," she ordered.

"Yes, Mother," he said with a rush of warmth in his eyes that would have had her catching her breath if only she had been able to ignore his appellation.

She hid her hurt and responded by tugging the braid sharply. It caused his head to rock back slightly. "Do it or no pudding after supper, young man."

Smirking, he picked up the cup and sipped. He hummed, and his eyes fluttered shut. "That is good." He set it down on the granite table top with a light clink that echoed and wobbled, amplified by the liquid sloshing to the rim. Staring at his hands, he fell silent again, wrapped in a shroud of sadness that Hermione wanted to rip open so she could climb inside with him.

"What did you need to discuss? You said there was an issue with several orders?" She hoped to distract him with talk of work, but although he smirked, his eyes remained dark and blank.

"There isn't really." Severus turned and looked up at her. "I just wanted to make Potter realise he was interrupting our work so he'd leave. Speaking of which," he began. He cleared his throat. "Hermione… Hermione, I heard what Potter said about my memories."

She froze, and a chill crept down her spine. "I hope you know that I didn't mean to pry. I would have put them in a bottle, but Harry was worried they would get lost, and truly, the safest way to transport them was in my head. I wouldn't have watched them if I'd had any choice. And you know if I hadn't taken them, Ron would have, and I'm sure that…."

"It's all right, witch. I know you'll guard my secrets as well as your own."

And just like that, she was nearly lost for words, honoured beyond all expectations of the trust he had just shown her. "Yes," she said simply.

"Oh, but Potter. That selfish boy. I am furious at Potter for his cowardice. All those years I spent protecting him, spying for Albus, and the pain I endured for all of you, and he handed my memories over to a third party. He couldn't be bothered to return them himself because of his immature disgust at discovering that I am a man and that I had loved his mother once."

Hermione looked at his grim countenance. Yes, he was a man. He was a man with a truly faithful heart. Even now, even now, she thought, remembering the shadows that chased across his face as he looked at Ginny with her Lily-red hair and Lily-pale skin. She longed to reach out to him and stroke his face until his eyes lightened, and he smiled at her as he had that very morning when she'd unbuttoned his collar… but his ghosts hung in the air between them. So instead, she buttered a scone and put it on the china plate she'd brought, sliding it across the counter to him, showing her care as best as she knew how.

Snape turned to her and smiled, patting her hand. It was enough for now.

_

Hermione awoke in the bordello to see Snape leaning over her, his forearm once more beneath her head, a very small smile tipping his lips.

"Good morning," he whispered, stroking his nose alongside hers.

"Mmmorning," she sighed, stretching and wrapping her arms around his neck.

At the open and affectionate contact, Severus's eyes warmed, and he leaned forward to run his lips over her eyebrow. "You woke up at a terribly inconvenient time last dream. I was about to perpetrate unforgiveable acts upon your person."

"Somehow, I'm sure that's not true. I am, after all, a very forgiving woman." She stifled a yawn and mumbled, "These dreams feel so real. They're even self-referential now."

"Maybe they are real," he whispered, looking down at her.

Hermione thought about it, head cocked. "No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Well, you – the real you – have never mentioned them in real life."

"Maybe I'm shy."

She laughed at that. "Now I'm sure they're not real, Severus. You? Shy?"

Snape's mouth quirked at that, and he bent down to drag his lips across hers. The heat pouring off of him made her hum in her throat, and Hermione wrapped her fingers in his smooth, dark hair. The kiss was chaste but intent, and she couldn't help but squirm in delight at being so firmly at the centre of his attention. After dragging the tip of his tongue across the swell of her bottom lip, he finally pulled back. "Absolutely," he murmured. "About this, yes."

Hermione traced the line of his nose. "You were sad today."

Snape's eyes cooled slightly. "No," he said.

"Yes." She pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. She could see he was covered in gooseflesh from the cool air of the room. "It's because Ginny reminds you of Lily, isn't it?"

"I wasn't sad, Hermione. I was discomfited." Severus pulled back from her and fell to his side. "Lily is far in my past, just a ghost of what never was. However, seeing Ginny there with Potter, the same age that my Lily died…" He shrugged, and the blankets rustled. "It was strange." Reaching out, Severus pulled her close and then began tracing the length of her scar. He didn't meet her eyes.

She shivered and pulled the ermine-trimmed comforter to cover her breasts, protecting herself from him. It was nearly painful to have Severus touch her with such tenderness while talking about 'his Lily.'

He looked up at her, startled by her withdrawal. "Hermione," he whispered. "I am who I am because of my past with Lily Evans. While I bear many burdens from before, my love for her is the lightest. I can't change it, but I must confess that I had hoped you might be part of my future."

Ah gods, it was sweet. If only it was real. She swallowed and blinked, feeling little tears creep from the corner of her eyes to slide down her temples and into her hair. When Severus licked the salty tracks from her face, Hermione curled an arm around his neck and said, "All right. All right." If she couldn't have him in real life because he was too hung up on his past with Lily, she'd be damned if she'd let this opportunity pass.

At her acceptance, Severus buried his face in her neck and kissed her shoulder. "Thank you, tulip," he murmured and slid on top of her. He settled his hips on hers with a nestling motion that made her catch her breath at the tenderness of it.

The rest of the dream passed in a haze of caressing hands and sharp, nipping teeth as Severus made love to her with a single-mindedness that left Hermione sobbing in pleasure, her hands digging into the muscles of his low back as he flexed and flexed and flexed again, pressing into her tight flesh.

When she woke up, she was crying in climax, her fists clenched in the sheets twisted around her hips. But it was hollow, so hollow because Hermione was empty. She was alone in her bedroom.

_

Just a dream, she told herself, smoothing her outfit with sweaty hands. She'd told herself the same thing this morning when she'd rejected a perfectly practical pair of slacks and slipped into the knee-length suede skirt that drew the eye to her slender ankles. Just a dream, she chanted, but when choosing between a serviceable white button-down blouse and a soft, carnation pink cashmere sweater that begged to be touched, she chose the sweater.

Just a dream, she thought,but there's no reason not to dress well. She'd had a shattering orgasm caused by a dream featuring her solemn-eyed potions brewer, and Hermione felt fantastic. Besides, the weather is getting colder, so a sweater is more practical. And with that fib to herself, she tied her hair into a loose chignon and shoved her wand through it.

Snape was late, though. He wasn't here to enjoy her in all of her sartorial splendour. She'd been waiting for him for half an hour. Hermione sighed and leaned forward on the stool, resting her elbows on the glass countertop where he kept the restricted ingredients. He'd never been late before.

Pouting, she rearranged the items on the counter, stacking the invoices and lining up the edges of his ledger with the research books he'd stacked with it. Hermione knew she was being foolish. Nothing had really happened. Her current behaviour was based almost entirely on a series of increasingly erotic dreams and hardly at all on any encouragement Snape had given her in real life. After all, his statement that he didn't entirely hate being in her presence didn't justify the thong she'd squeezed into.

She looked up when she heard the bell by the door. He stood there, a travel carrier with two coffees in his hand. Severus seemed overcome as his eyes traced the pink cashmere that covered the soft curves of her breasts. Flushing furiously, he dragged his gaze up to her face and murmured, "You look beautiful today."

"You, too. Handsome, I mean." And he did look good. Severus set the coffee on the counter and removed his cloak, revealing a blue, button-down shirt. It was fitted, emphasizing his flat stomach and the breadth of his shoulders. The collar was undone, and he'd tucked the tails into a pair of flat-front black trousers with a row of silver buttons by his left hip that invited Hermione to stare at his crotch.

Which she did until he cleared his throat.

She looked up at him, startled by the need she felt to run her hands over that row of buttons.

"I brought you some coffee," he said.

"Thank you." Hermione swallowed a mouthful, her eyes watering when she burned her tongue. "It's very tasty," she coughed.

They lapsed into an awkward silence, the sounds of them sipping the steaming liquid the only noise in the room. With his foot, he hooked another stool and brought it around the counter so that he could sit next to her. He sniffed the air appreciatively.

"Are you wearing perfume? It's very appealing."

Surprised, Hermione raised her wrists to her nose to smell. "Oh! No, no. That's the lemon verbena I chopped for the Arthritis Potion." She laid her hands back into her lap.

Severus wrapped his fingers around hers and lifted her hand to his face. He dragged his nose and lips against her wrist and inhaled deeply. "Ah. My mistake." His hand burned her, and the trail of his mouth caused chills to race up her arm.

When he released her, they were both shaking. As Hermione stared at his profile, his irises flicked to hers, though his face didn't turn. His eyes were hot, and she caught her breath.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Hermione," he began, and the shaking of his hands grew more pronounced. He licked his lips. "Hermione, you are so lovely to me."

She stood up so fast, her stool toppled over. "What?"

He turned to her, and she couldn't help but notice that the royal blue of his shirt made his eyes appear dark grey, not black. She gasped when he reached out and stroked the very top of her scar where it peeked out over the scooped neck of her sweater. "You are so very, very lovely to me." Severus stepped forward so that although their bodies were still apart, she could feel the heat of him pounding into her skin with every beat of his heart.

The words shook her to her core, and the certainty that he knew, that he'd been there, made her cry out. "You! You, you, it was you," she babbled, terrified and elated and everything in between.

"Me," he said before looping an arm around her waist and yanking her forward against his chest. "Me, me, it was always me," and then his mouth was on hers and oh god, he tasted like her dreams, all hot and wet and hungry. Her lips fell open, and she groaned, helpless to resist him when he was all she had wanted for what seemed like ages.

Snape wrapped his hands around her waist and made to lift her onto the counter, but she threw up her hands and shouted, "Wait! Coffee!"

Growling, he Vanished them and then swept his arm across the invoices and books and ledgers scattered across the counter. They fell to the floor in a clatter of hard spines and fluttering paper. With a flick of his hand, the shades fell over the front of the windows, and the lock on the front door clicked.

"Tell me now if you didn't mean it, Hermione. Tell me if the reality of being with me is too much to bear outside of our dreams," he growled, his lips mere centimetres from hers, waiting for her permission to slip his leash so he could feast on her soft mouth.

She lunged forward and nipped his lower lip with very little gentleness, pulling at the leather tie on his braid and running her hands through his hair to unweave it. It was thin but silky, and as it fell unbound, the scent of his shampoo wrapped around her. Mint. Severus smelled of mint and man, and Hermione's head spun. "Yes, I meant it, idiot."

Placing a hand on her back and pulling her towards him, he straightened, ensuring her breasts were pressed against his chest and that his hips pushed her skirt up until he was nestled tight between her thighs. She cried out, and as if it released something in him, Snape's fingers flexed in her hair and he ground his hips into hers.

There was no doubt he wanted her. He was tremendously hard, pressing against her so that she thought she'd lose her mind. "Say you're mine," he said, his mouth to her ear.

Hermione's eyes rolled back, and she was having trouble focusing when Severus was drowning her in pleasure. "Mmm," she said, clutching his shoulders.

He bit her sharply on the shoulder and flexed his hips. "Say it, witch. Say you're mine."

This time she heard him, and as he rocked and rocked against her, she moaned, "God, yes. All yours, Severus."

They lay on the floor of the Apothecary, completely naked and surrounded by papers and books. Hermione was on her back, sweating and panting from their exertions. She was overheated and so refrained from touching Snape anywhere except for the toes of her right foot, which she'd extended so that it caressed his left ankle.

"So, let me make sure I understand you. You brewed a random potion you found in some forgotten book designed to enable you to share dreams with your beloved? I hope you at least tested it before you dosed me." Not that she cared at the moment.

"No," he said, and his voice was groggy.

"You didn't test it?"

"No, although I would have had I actually been required to dose you with it. I was the only one who needed to take it, so I didn't bother." Severus grunted with annoyance. "You are too far away. Come closer."

"I'm too hot at the moment. Plus, I'm annoyed that you were so reckless with yourself. If you'd died, I would have missed out on the best shag of my life."

Snape dragged a hand over his face, and Hermione got the impression that he was trying to hide a pleased smile. "Quite."

She poked him. "Why are we always in a bordello?"

His cheeks flushed. "I'm not exactly sure why my subconscious chose to put us in a bordello, but I lost my virginity in that particular room. My father took me to visit a prostitute on my nineteenth birthday. He said he was tired of my mooning over L… Well. He said a shag would knock it right out of me, and that I was far too old to be a virgin still."

"Stand-up kind of bloke, huh?"

"Hermione, I was nineteen, and my libido was out of control…"

"No, I meant your father," she clarified, hearing the defensive tenor in his voice. She stretched her hand out and wrapped the short, crinkled hairs on his chest around her index finger.

He grunted and looked mollified. "That's a story for a different time, love."

"How did you know that I'd be the one with whom you'd share dreams?" She yawned and slid closer, lifting her head so that it rested on his bicep. It spasmed beneath her cheek. "Ouch. Relax your arm. It's like cuddling with a stone."

The muscles flexed and then eased. "Who else would it have been, Hermione? Lavender Brown? Rita Skeeter? Heaven forbid." Snape's voice was disinterested. In a quick movement, he grabbed her and pulled her on top of him. "Let's talk about something far more interesting."

She shrieked in laughter. "Oooh, you. You can't possibly be ready again already."

"I beg to differ," he said in a sniffy voice, flexing his hips to prove to her that he was a Wizard, and that he was indeed ready again already.

The delighted look on her face faded slowly as she noticed a book above his left shoulder. It must have fallen open when he'd swept the items resting on top of the glass case to the floor. It was an old, forgotten-looking potions book, the pages yellowed and foxed with age. She leaned over Snape, her breasts dangling above his mouth to his great interest.

"Stop for a sec," she said as she picked up the book and sat up, straddling his hips.

His face blanched when he saw what she had in her hands, and he began to go soft where he pressed between her legs. "Hermione…"

"Une Rêve d'Amour," she whispered, reading the name of the potion. A Dream of Love. There, tucked between the pages as a placeholder, was a Wizarding photograph of a young Severus Snape kissing Lily Evans. "Oh, gods."

"Hermione, love…" He pled with her to listen.

"Oh, gods. I'm such a fool." A tear streaked down her cheek. She felt the heat build in her face and an aching, yawning chasm split open in her belly.

"No. Don't say that." His voice was nearly frantic as he sat up. Hermione still straddled his hips, and he wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her from being dislodged. He tried to kiss her face, but she put her hand on his chest and turned away from him.

"I thought this was about me, but it never was. It was about her." She felt nauseated, broken. This was worse than Ron's disgust at her scars, worse than his leaving her for Lavender. This was crippling. Severus was a man whose faithful heart would never be hers, because Hermione could never be her.

"Don't do this. Please, look at what we've found in each other. Don't leave me for this." His hands bit into her hips.

"You drank the potion for Lily, didn't you?" By this point, Hermione was crying freely, her chest shuddering with sobs. She pushed off him, stumbling when her knees protested. Slipping on her knickers and skirt, she began to search through the detritus on the floor for her bra.

Snape's face was in his hands, but she watched the colour crawl up his neck as she hooked the clasp between her breasts. When he lifted his face, his eyes were dry. "Yes, damn it. When I found that potion, all I could think about was the possibility that I might be able to spend even one more moment with my Lily, but when I woke up in bed with a warm, curvy woman, it was you, Hermione. And I was shocked. My first thought was that it must have been a mistake."

She pulled her sweater over her head, not caring when her hair fuzzed with static. Grabbing her cloak over one arm and holding the battered potions book in the other, she slipped into her flats and nearly ran to the door. After unlocking it, she paused for just a moment and said, "I could have fallen in love with you. I was so close. If only you'd wanted me..."

Severus's head fell forward into his hands, and he released a shuddering breath.

And then she was gone, out the door and away from him, even though every step hurt her just a little bit more. The memory of a wilted lily in an earthenware pitcher burned her.

Hermione took Dreamless Sleep that night.

And the next.

And the next.