A/N: Sorry about last week's scene breaks being missing! I hope it was easy to follow without them. It didn't seem to stop the wonderful reviews I received from many of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. For all of you guest reviewers, your reviews are seen, and they bring a smile to my face, but I sadly cannot respond to you to let you know that. I hope you see this and know that your voice is making a difference!


Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hermione was sweating when she woke, and when she slowly opened her eyes, she found out why. The sunlight had reached her bed, and the wall beyond it, its warmth seeping in with it- something that didn't happen in her rooms until well into the day. Sitting up, she cast a quick Tempus, and gaped at the floating numbers before her.

It was just after noon.

When was the last time she had slept so soundly? When was the last time she had slept past seven, eight o'clock in the morning? She felt... well rested. Energized. Awake, truly awake, for the first time in months.

She leapt from the bed and raced down the stairs. Never mind that she was still in her nightgown, never mind her bare feet. When she reached the bottom, she used her momentum and her grip on the bannister to throw herself into the kitchen, grabbing the doorjamb before she crashed into the room completely.

At the end of the island counter, cutting board in front of him, Severus looked up from his chopping as she made her dramatic appearance and smirked. "I see we've finally risen. Good afternoon-"

"Put the knife down."

Frowning, Severus turned more fully towards her. "Why?"

"Because I'm about to hug you, and I don't fancy getting sliced open."

The knife fell from his fingers. "Hermione, what-" But the moment the blade hit the cutting board, Hermione had propelled herself forward, throwing herself into Severus' arms with enough force that he stumbled backwards into the tall cabinet behind him.

"Thank you," she whispered into his chest as his arms awkwardly surrounded her. "I haven't slept that well in... Thank you."

Standing on her toes, she put her hands on his shoulders and placed a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. She stepped out of his embrace before he had time to react.

"Thank you," she repeated, before turning and running back upstairs, a warm flush spreading across her face.


He wasn't sure how long he stared after her, but when Severus finally recovered from the shock of it all, he backed himself over to a chair and collapsed in it.

How long had that interaction been? A minute? Maybe less? And yet within that short time frame she managed to shock him speechless. Completely, and utterly, speechless.

His fingers rose to touch the cheek she had kissed, the phantom feeling of her lips lingering on his skin. And her body heat, seeping through his shirt, and her nightgown- that damned nightgown-

Air. I need air. He launched himself out of his seat, striding through the kitchen in three easy steps, and all but threw open the door at the end of the hall. Rushing out into the garden, he paced in front of his planter boxes, a hand running through his hair as his haggard breath fogged in front of him.

It wasn't what she had done that scared him. He could find no fault in her actions- she was overjoyed that their efforts had paid off, that was all. No, what scared him was how close he came to not letting her go, to holding her tightly as he kissed her properly, pulling her up against him as he... as he...

"Enough!" He snarled, to no one in particular. "That's enough." His pacing halted as he let the cold air wash over him, calming the actions of his traitorous body. How am I supposed to endure this? I thought I could handle this, I really did, but what if it happens again? What if next time, I lose control? What if- "I'll just have to Occlude," he decided. "She Occludes all day- I might as well join her."

That will only make your impulses worse when your shields are down. The thought crossed his mind unbidden and unwanted and he groaned, kicking a small build-up of snow. Rubbing his hands over his face, he inhaled deeply.

Calm down. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. You spent the last year and a half convincing the world you were Voldemort's right hand man; you can endure this, too. And if you can't, if you must send her away, then-

"Severus?"

Jolting, Severus looked up at the second story and saw Hermione- in a fluffy robe, hair damp- leaning out one of her windows. "Are you all right? Did something happen?"

Did something happen? You happened! "Everything is fine, Hermione," he called to her, dropping his hands. "Just a bit of a... frustrating potions problem." You idiot! That's the best you could come up with?

"Oh." Leaning more casually against the window frame, she asked, "What are you working on?"

Fuck!

He wasn't sure which deity to thank for choosing that moment to be interrupted, but as Hermione turned from the window in surprise and called out, "The Floo is activating," he rushed into the house faster than he had vacated it. He didn't care who was about to enter his home; it could be Voldemort himself at this point, and he would welcome the distraction.

Thankfully, it was only Minerva who was waiting for him in the middle of his living room, though two days sooner than expected. "You're early," he told her as he walked in from the hall.

"And you're disheveled," she countered, looking him up and down. "Freaking out again, are we?"

"Why are you here?" he snapped, moving over to his desk. "I don't remember inviting you over for a friendly spot of tea, so unless you-"

The fireplace roared green again, and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into the room, causing Severus to stop short. His face fell as he looked between the two of them. "What's happened?"

"Where's Hermione?" Minerva asked, looking towards the hall.

"She's-"

"I'm right here, Professor." A properly dressed Hermione stepped into the room, running a comb through her still damp hair before halting, noticing Kingsley. "Oh- Hello, Minister! I didn't expect- What's going on?"

"There's been another attack," Kingsley said, taking the wingback chair as he gestured to the couch. "Please, let's sit. The Order has already met, and we have some updates for you both."

"Another attack?" Hermione settled onto the couch, Minerva joining her. "When?"

"And where?" he added, sitting in his desk chair.

"Kewstoke." The Minister rubbed his hands together anxiously. "A small village off the western coast."

"It's just north of Weston-super-Mare," added Minerva, and Hermione sat up straighter.

"Weston- where the magical influx was happening?" Kingsley nodded. "Is it related?"

"It's too big of a coincidence not to be," he replied, looking at Severus. "I've already spoken with Lucius and Narcissa. Neither of them know of any significance in that location, but they did help I.D. a likely suspect."

"Let me guess- it isn't one of the three we've been targeting." At the Minister's nod, he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Everyone else has either been pronounced deceased or imprisoned. Who do they say is behind it?"

By the grim looks of both Kingsley and Minerva, he knew before he heard the answer that it would be far from good. "Fenrir Greyback."

In the silence that followed, Severus leaned his head against the back of his chair. "Shit."

Minerva nodded. "A bit crass, but yes, that was the general consensus."

"But how is that possible?" Fingers twisting in her lap, Hermione glanced between the three of them. "His body was found, right? At Hogwarts?"

"We're looking into that." Kingsley rubbed the back of his bald head and looked over at Severus once more. "I have a feeling some of my men may have falsified some accounts."

"Hence your hunt for a new lead Auror, I take it." Exhaling heavily, Severus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "If you're right, more than just Fenrir may be alive. What has the order decided?"

"Not much, unfortunately," Minerva answered. "There aren't many available to meet, so decision making was kept to a minimum."

"It doesn't help that half of us are Weasleys," he muttered. "So what are the updates you referred to, then?"

"If Fenrir is indeed behind these attacks," Kingsley said, "then the ministry is in more trouble than I anticipated. I wonder, Severus, if you would be able to identify possible Death Eater sympathizers from a list of names?"

"I know far less about sympathizers than you would imagine. Any knowledge I was given pertained to my role at Hogwarts and whatever he would offer up to Albus." Rubbing his brow, he added, "I can take a look at the list, see if I recognize any names. I can't make any promises."

Kingsley nodded. "I understand. Any help you can give me is appreciated. It's gotten to the point that the only people I trust explicitly are Order members."

"And from the sounds of it we're running low on them as well."

"Erm..." Hermione interjected quietly, "Can I ask what made the Malfoys suspect Fenrir Greyback? Could they have been wrong?"

Minerva put a hand on Hermione's knee. "It's... unlikely. Greyback..." Her eyes moved to Severus.

He leaned forward, catching Hermione's attention. "Fenrir had a..." He paused, rubbing his chin as he tried to think of how to word it. "He had a type."

Her eyebrows rose. "A type. Of victim?" He nodded. "You mean children."

He glanced briefly at Minerva before nodding again.

The Headmistress took Hermione's hand in her own as she explained, "There were several children bitten last night. We think it was a purposeful attack; the full moon is but ten days away." Hermione's eyes grew wide, and she clutched Minerva's hand tighter. "I have no doubt in my mind that the attack was made in preparation for future unrest."

Kingsley addressed Severus once more. "I understand there's very little chance of getting a batch of Wolfsbane-"

"There's no chance," he interrupted. "Wolfsbane is an incredibly complex potion, and it would need to be prepared and ready in time for delivery three days from now. I cannot possibly get those ingredients together in time, let alone brew it."

Kingsley sighed, but nodded. "I was afraid of that. No matter, we have members of the Beast Division on standby to offer support; I'll send them out first thing tomorrow. Would you be willing to prepare-" But at Severus' slow shake of his head, he stopped.

"The Wolfsbane plant itself is not only incredibly difficult to find, it's also exorbitantly expensive. The only reason I was able to brew it for Lupin for so long was because of Dumbledore's connections. Unless you have an in with the apothecaries, I'm afraid I cannot help you. I'm not exactly at liberty to go hunt the plant down myself, after all."

Kingsley bounced his leg up and down in agitation. "I understand, Severus, but these families are distraught. If I were able to- well, nevermind. We can discuss that at another time." Sitting straight, he clasped his hands. "Come the full moon, we will have as many aurors as we can afford in that area, but I don't wish to leave the rest of the country vulnerable."

Rubbing a finger over his bottom lip, he frowned. "You think this was a tactical attack?"

Kingsley shrugged. "It's possible they plan on weakening our forces even further by concentrating our efforts into a sole location. Like I said earlier, if Greyback survived, how many more are there? Could taking you out have been their first plan of attack for a larger scale uprising?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione lean closer to Minerva, a trembling hand over her mouth.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed a temple. "There are very few in the Death Eater ranks that would be capable of orchestrating something like this, and many of them are in Azkaban. Perhaps if I looked at the list of deceased, I might be able to narrow down a list of possible suspects..."

Kingsley nodded. "I will arrange for you to have that list within the next few days, along with anything else I can scrounge up that may be useful." Standing, he added, "I need to be heading back. Minerva?"

"Oh, yes." Standing as well, she joined him over by the fire. "I would stay longer if I could, of course, but I'm afraid I've been away from the school for too long. I will see you again on Sunday, as scheduled." Before she activated the floo, however, she pulled a letter from her pocket and handed it to Severus. "I almost forgot- St Mungo's is running low on some vital potions because of this, and I may have recommended you as a possible supplier. I hope you don't mind."

Grimacing, he took the letter and set it aside. "Your faith in me is most kind," he drawled as the floo activated behind her, the minister disappearing amidst its green flames. She simply rolled her eyes.

"Well, as unfortunate as this visit was, it is always a pleasure to see you two," she said, looking between the two of them. "I'm sure Sunday's visit will be a bit more enjoyable." After a quick goodbye, she activated the floo and was gone.

Silence surrounded them as Severus leaned forward again, hanging his head. He stayed like that for a long moment, going over what he had just learned, until the sounds of shifting caused him to raise his head enough to look over at the couch.

Hermione sat rigidly on the cushions as she frowned into the fireplace, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. The sight of her here, vulnerable and scared, reminded him of why they were in this house together in the first place; she was in danger, and this was the safest place for her. The thought of sending her away now, in light of all that they had just learned... it was suddenly unthinkable. "Hermione-"

As if she had forgotten he were still there, Hermione jumped, jerking her head towards him. Her wide, worried eyes met his, and she forced herself to take a breath. "Sorry," she said quickly, then stood. Walking behind the couch, she began to pace in front of the bookshelves. His eyes followed her as she began to rant.

"Things were supposed to be better after the war," she was saying. "Innocent people, children, were supposed to be safe. Now..." She shook her head sharply. "Harry's out there. And Ron. They're barely trained Hogwarts drop-outs; what if the enemy is better, stronger? If they come across a Death Eater on the run, or heaven forbid Greyback himself, will they know what to do? They're so short handed, will they even have any backup?"

Severus rose from his seat as she continued, "I just feel so useless here! I wish there was something I could do, some way to make a difference instead of hiding away like a damsel in distress. Soon enough I won't even have homework to distract me from how utterly, completely useless I am while my friends work so hard to continue the fight."

She stopped in front of the window, frowning out through the glass, when her words finally registered in his mind. Turning back to the discarded letter from St Mungo's, he quickly snatched it up and tore the seal. As he suspected, the letter was written by a Chief Healer requesting common healing potions in mass quantities to help combat any future attacks. Wound cleaning potions, calming draughts, antidotes... "You want to be useful?" he asked. Her head flipped around, and he held up the letter. "How about picking up a stirring rod again?"

When she only stared, he elaborated. "St Mungo's requires a large back supply of potions in the event of future attacks. You want to make a difference? Help me fill this order."

Her eyes flicked to the fireplace- to the room beyond the wall- and back to him. "You would let me in your lab?" she asked hesitantly, as if trying to detect a trap in his words.

"With assurances that you won't blow us both up, yes." At her glare, he raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. "It was my understanding that you dropped Potions entirely. With such a gap in your brewing practice, I feel it is in my right to be concerned."

Instead of deigning a reply, she stalked over to him and snatched the letter from his hands. She studied the list, lip caught between her teeth, glancing up occasionally to study him as she did so. Slowly, she sat the letter down on his desk.

When she didn't say anything, her eyes drifting back towards the window, he asked, "Are the potions not complex enough? I could ask them if they need some Polyjuice on hand."

A surprised laugh escaped her, and she smiled up at him; his heart skipped a beat, but he forced down the warning voice that told him to take the offer back, forced his face into a visage of disinterested calm. "When did you figure it out?" she asked, and his eyebrow rose.

"About the same time Poppy Pomfrey called me up to de-fur a second year student."

She looked surprised at that. "You didn't give any indication that you knew what had happened."

He shrugged before turning back to his desk. "I was enjoying the fact that you finally failed at something."

Her outraged gasp caused his lips to twitch as he sat, reaching for his quill. It was her following silence that caused him to look up again. "Yes?"

Tapping her chin, she said, "I think that's the nicest backhanded compliment you've ever given me."

He snorted. "The pleasure is all mine. So, will you assist me? Or shall I tell St Mungo's I cannot possibly brew everything they are asking for myself?"

"Oh, I-" Blinking a few times, Hermione leaned over the edge of his desk, studying the list. He tried to ignore her closeness, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the floral aroma of her shampoo wafting over him; tried to focus on her face, her expressions, looking for any hint of her thoughts. "I don't remember all of these recipes," she admitted finally. "I would need help." Meeting his stare, she smiled shyly. "If you trust me, though, I would be happy to help."

Leaning back in his chair- he needed a bit of distance, some air that smelled of books and not flowers- he gave her a small smile in return as he inclined his head. "Then we'll start tomorrow."


"How much more schoolwork do you have?" he asked her over breakfast.

She swallowed her bite of toast, giving the question a few moments of thought. "I could probably get it all done in a week, honestly."

"Even while assisting me?" He set his fork down, plate clean, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Taking a sip of her tea, she considered it. "It really depends on how much you plan on terrorizing me while we work," she said casually. "I don't imagine I'll get much homework done if I'm crying under the covers because you snapped at me eighteen times."

He didn't even look up when he replied, "If I have to snap at you eighteen times I'm going to take my books back."

She chuckled. "I'll try to keep you to seventeen or less, then."

He made a noncommittal noise, rising to take his plate to the sink, and said, "I'll only keep you for the morning today. We'll go over the recipes of the requested potions, and you can ask questions as needed. Then, I'm going to watch you brew one of the potions in question."

"Wait- watch me brew? So, what, you're just going to hover over me?" When he just smirked, she frowned at him.

"Meet me in the lab in fifteen minutes," he ordered, and left the room.

When she got ready for her first day in the lab, Hermione dressed with safety in mind. She wore long sleeves that hugged her arms, her sturdiest pair of jeans, and her school flats- thicker than her more casual pair- and had braided her hair back tightly, wrapping the braid into a bun at the nape of her neck. The last thing she wanted was to give Severus reason for criticizing her hair. Fifteen minutes later, she knocked on the door to the lab for the first time, and when the door opened, her jaw dropped.

Whatever she had imagined in her head, this room was nothing like her assumptions. The same grey stone from the hearth in the living room made up the floor, the plain cream walls barely visible behind the countless shelves, racks, storage containers, and planters. Two long tables ran down the room to her right, and a large, intricate fireplace dominated the space to her left, surrounded by crates and barrels overflowing with ingredients. The table against the far wall was covered in scales, knives, books and other odds and ends on either side of a large, blank space that showed the telltale signs of ingredient prep. The table running down the middle of the room held three distinct cauldrons- one of brass, one of copper, and one of pewter.

There were clear, distinct walkways around the tables, and despite every inch of available space being used for storage, there was a strong sense of order to the room. Though there was no room for a proper storage set-up, everything had its place, and she fought the urge to reach out and explore. She turned towards Severus, eyes wide.

He had been watching her, as was evident by the smug smirk donning his face. "It's quite a bit smaller than Hogwarts," he told her, "but everything in here is mine."

"It's..." words failed her. Instead, she spun in place, looking around once more. Potions tools shone from their rack on the wall, the flickering candlelight from the two metal chandeliers dancing across their surface, though most of the light came from the small window that sat between the two tables, overlooking the garden. Everything was labeled, in the tight, neat scrawl of the Potions Master she was so familiar with; potions ingredients, crates, boxes, vials... everything bore his signature mark. It was frankly overwhelming.

Facing him once more, she snorted at his change of expression- a mask of indifference not quite hiding the spark in his eyes. He raised his eyebrow in a taunting arch. "Does it meet your high standards, or is your intense scrutiny just your desire to tear it down and start from scratch?"

"Anything I would do would pale in comparison," she answered honestly, and his smirk returned. "It's all just so overwhelming. I don't know where to even begin."

"You'll be beginning over there." Pointing to a stool sitting between two cauldrons, he walked between the tables. He pulled out some parchments from a stack he kept under a large crystal paperweight, flipping through them before setting a few of them down in front of her spot.

Walking over to the table, she sank onto the tall stool and picked up the papers. The first one was the letter the Healer had sent Severus, the list of required potions circled in a familiar red ink:

Cure for boils- 30
Wound Cleaning Potion- 60
Blood Replenishing Potion- 80
Calming Draught- 30
Antidote to Common Poisons- 40
Burn Healing Paste- 20

"I take it these numbers are the doses they're asking for?" At his concurrence, she looked further down the letter at the underlined sentence. "This is their first order? And they would like it by Monday?"

"Which means it will need to be done by Sunday, so that Minerva can take the order when she visits."

She began to flip through the other papers- the recipes he'd written up for her- and compared them to the amounts they were being asked to prepare. "The Blood Replenishing Potion alone will take a full day's work to complete-"

"Which is why I have asked for your assistance." Leaning back against the ingredient prep table, he crossed his arms and nodded towards the papers she held. "I was planning on dedicating tomorrow to the Blood Replenishing Potion, and tackling some simpler potions today. But first, we need to make sure you're up to the task."

Studying the recipes again, she asked, "Which potion would you like me to brew today?"

His eyes crinkled in silent amusement. "Based on your gap in practice, I was going to suggest the Cure for Boils."

She slapped the papers down, glaring at him. "That's a first year potion."

"If you can't handle the basics-"

"I can handle the basics just fine, thank you!"

His lips twitched. "The Antidote to Common Poisons is a bit more complex-"

"I'm not brewing a beginners potion," she snapped as she flipped through the recipes once more. "What about the Calming Draught? It's a fourth year brew."

Tilting his head in feigned consideration, he nodded once. "Calming Draught it is." He turned his back on her, pulling various tools and ingredients off the shelves as he spoke. "As this is your first time in the lab, I will collect the necessary ingredients today, but I expect you to learn where things are in the future. The sink is in the storage closet behind you-" His hand waved, and the closet's doors vanished, exposing a deep metal sink- "and I'll need you to clean up after yourself. Now, do you recall what would happen to the drinker if the Calming Draught were to be imbued with too much peppermint oil?"

Sitting in a potions lab, perched on a stool in front of a cauldron, Hermione couldn't help but become incredibly nostalgic. The lecturing tone of his voice as he paced around the room reminded her so much of sitting in class, that she couldn't help but play the part of an eager student once more. Biting back her grin, she eagerly raised her hand in the air.

Severus still had his back to her, so when she didn't answer he sighed and turned around. "I said-" His eyes landed on her face first, holding back laughter, and slowly moved to her upraised hand, waving impatiently in the air. His face fell to an annoyed glare as he jerked his head towards the door. "Get out."

Unable to hold back any longer, Hermione erupted in giggles as she put her hand back down. "I'm sorry," she laughed, wiping away tears. "You were lecturing, and then you asked a question, and I just- I couldn't resist!"

Eyes rolling, he moved over to the table and set down the collected ingredients. "I take it you know the answer, then?"

She cleared her throat, mimicking her younger self perfectly as she replied, "Adding too much peppermint oil to the Calming Draught potion would cause the drinker to experience uncomfortable side effects such as a burning sensation in their mouth, watery eyes, or potentially uncontrollable sobbing. To avoid this, it is recommended that the peppermint oil be measured prior to brewing, and double checked before its addition to the potion."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he muttered, his words dripping in sarcasm. She only laughed at his response.

The fact that he had played along with her at all reminded her of the games they used to play in their letters, teasing and taunting, back and forth. Since she had come to live here with him, they'd had a few moments of that, but it had been less than two weeks since she moved in, and that newness still had a hold of her. The awkwardness that had happened earlier in the week had certainly not helped, either. With this small moment of playfulness, she felt that lost joy from her letters once again, and her cheeks hurt from the intensity of her smile.

The lecture lasted another half hour before he let her get to work, watching silently as she prepared ingredients and began the brewing process. About halfway through, he began to pace the length of the tables, his shoes clacking against the stone in a rhythmic pace that was almost soothing. She was nearly through her second round of stirs before she realized she was stirring to the pace of his steps.

Soon his pacing included the path behind her stool as well, and every time he passed her she felt a shiver down her spine. His nearness was intoxicating, and it was all she could do to not reach out; to remain focused on the task at hand.

When the potion was just about complete, he had stopped his pacing and stood behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her exposed neck. "What are you doing?" she asked, keeping her eyes on her stirring, not daring a glance to see exactly how close his face was from hers.

She could hear the grin on his lips when he replied, "I believe I'm hovering."

Sliding the stirring rod out of the brew, she tapped it gently on the side of the cauldron before setting it aside. His closeness was putting her on edge, distracting her with thoughts and urges that had her heart racing and her breathing quicken. "I would argue it's more like looming."

She felt his expelled breath as he chuckled, and it sent goosebumps across her skin. Backing up a step, his fingers grazed her shoulder as he moved next to her, and electricity shot through her at the contact. "The potion will be sitting for about an hour; why don't you go get something to eat?"

She still could not look at him, afraid of what he would see in her eyes if she did. She cast a quick tempus instead. "It's already almost noon? I forgot how long this potion takes."

"The good news is one cauldron-full is about ten doses," he told her as she slid off the stool, moving to the sink behind her to wash her hands.

"Could I brew it again today?" she asked, shaking her fingers off before reaching for a rag. She had forgotten how calming potions brewing could be, with the methodical dicing, radiating warmth of the cauldron, and the calm that came over her as she stirred- as long as a certain someone was similarly preoccupied, that was. She finally turned to face him, only to find his focus elsewhere.

He was peering into her cauldron as he answered. "I suppose you could, if you wished, but you would be on your own. I need to brew the wound cleaning potion this afternoon, as it requires a full thirty hours to rest before bottling."

She thought about that for a moment. Leaning back against the sink, she said, "There's a lot more to being a potioneer than just brewing, isn't there?" When he looked at her questioningly, she explained, "I just didn't really think about the scheduling aspect of it all. Instead of simply going down a list of potions to complete, you have to consider the brewing processes and how they all compare to each other. I've only ever worked on one potion at a time- excluding the Polyjuice," she added with a grin.

Resting his hands on the table behind him, he nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose it is an aspect one might not consider. But it makes it possible to brew multiple potions at the same time, thus increasing efficiency and productivity. If I were to only focus my attention on one brew until it was complete, I would miss deadlines, lose clients, and get paid at a much slower rate." He shook his head. "Though, even at Hogwarts I was constantly balancing my brewing the same way. Between the Infirmary and the Order, I almost always had a cauldron going."

He jerked his chin to the hall, then, and said, "Go get lunch. If you're going to be brewing with me all day, you're going to need sustenance. I'm not picking you up off the floor if you pass out on me."

Snickering, she shoved away from the sink and sent him a mocking glare as she moved towards the door. "I wouldn't expect you to."


As the lab door closed behind her, Severus braced his hands on the table and hung his head. This is a bad idea, his mind kept telling him, and he couldn't find it in him to disagree. It was foolish to allow her in here. This will be your undoing.

And yet, against his better judgement, he hadn't rescinded his offer.

No, he thought as he shook his head, instead he agreed to her further presence. How he was supposed to concentrate on his brewing when she was there... Shoving away from the table, he began cleaning up the space around him, just to have something to do. It didn't stop the thoughts from coming.

Did she always mutter to herself when she brewed?

Her hands are so small compared to mine; my knives looked like weapons in her grip.

How is it she looks better sheened in sweat, with her curls sticking to her forehead?

The jar of lavendar clippings slipped from his hand, and if it weren't for the quick reflexes he had honed over the years, he would have lost his entire stock. "Pay attention!" he snapped at himself, taking a deep breath and exhaling sharply. How was this ever going to work?

Eyes moving around the room, he evaluated the space in which they were to be working together. It was so small. Even pacing, as he was wont to do, had proven difficult. Every time he had passed behind her, he was close enough to smell her shampoo, and with every whiff he became more and more curious as to what, exactly, the smell represented. It was floral in nature, he knew that much, and he identified the sweetness of rose with a citrus undertone that would indicate orange-blossom- but there was more to it, and before he knew it, he was hovering over her, lost in the sensation. It was only when she commented on his closeness that he had realized what he was doing.

Looming over her like a lecherous hound dog, is what I was doing. And what did he do then? he touched her. He hadn't realized he would do that, either. He was losing himself in her, one sense at a time. But as much as he wanted to, as much as he obsessed over it, there was one sense he must never experience when it came to Hermione Granger.

No matter how much it killed him to abstain.