She ran with her heart pounding in her ears. Her first kiss! Taken by a professor! Professor Snape! Why did she feel slightly giddy about all of this? Or was she nauseous from repulsion? She sputtered into the Gryffindor common room as she saw Harry and Ron lounging on the couch by the fireplace.

"Bloody hell Hermione! Where have you been?" Ron questioned. "Look at her nose Harry! It's like Rudolf!"

Harry chuckled at the comment, "It does. Why do you look so flushed Hermione?" He asked with a hint of concern. Then he stiffened, "Is something wrong?"

Hermione shook her head vehemently "No. Nothing's wrong. Just out for a late night run. That's all." She cleared her throat. "G'night, then." She said before she dashed to her bedroom.

"G'night, then." The boys said in unison.

"Something fishy there." Ron said with a scrunched up expression. Harry nodded. Both of their eyes were set on her bedroom door.

He wasn't a virgin in any sense of the word, but there was something about her innocent face wrapped in yearning that left him with a similar feeling of unknowing in his stomach. He had identified for a long time what his future held, laid out like a monopoly board before him since the death of the red haired girl he once watched from the bushes. He was bound by Dumbledore, and bound by the green ghost of Lily in Potter's eyes. There was only one way, there had always been one way and twinge of the dark mark on his forearm was a constant reminder. Yet, auburn eyes found him and offered a welcome break in the droning monotony. Finally some entertainment had appeared in this prison of a school. Sometimes he didn't know if he was keeper of the dungeons or the dungeons kept him.

Sleep often eluded him, and that night was no exception. Morning came and again it was time for the students to file into the potions room. He wondered, as his coal colored eyes scanned the room, whether the bushy haired girl would raise her hand quite as often today. Or, would she try to cover her mishap by spouting more mindless book facts? The image that came to mind brought a sneer to Snape's face. Harry and Ron caught it and looked at each other in discontent.

Ron whispered, "You reckon he's got something more wrenched than Gurdyroots in store for us today?"

Harry responded silently, "Good thing Hermione caught that cold after all." Ron gulped and nodded.

"Juvenile." Snape thought, "Don't they know how to cast muflatio if they don't want to be heard?" Then he realized what he had just overheard. The girl rarely missed a chance to recite her scraps of knowledge, what had happened last night? The potion she generated certainly had chances of side effects, nothing too severe. He tapped his fingers on the desk in thought, as he listed possible outcomes. The students took this as a gesture for silence. He looked down to them with the constant mask-like expression, shifting focus, "Let us begin."

Hermione was not physically sick, though her stomach felt like she was falling. There was guilt. She had always tried to be a perfect student, maybe she felt like she had something to prove coming from the muggle world. She was proud of being a witch and of the praise that came from many of her teachers at Hogwarts. Only one professor throughout her schooling here had not come to offer any words of academic reinforcement. She had made out with him last night. Her face plunged into the infirmary ward pillow at the thought. It was the only way she could receive a legitimate escape from classes that day. She had entered with a potions injury complaint, which wasn't really a lie. She didn't know why, maybe the potion altered her memories but it felt good to think about it. Was this the form of commendation that she had been seeking? She couldn't move. She couldn't go to that potions class again, not after such a mistake. Wasn't there some other teacher? The light was fading outside. Hermione lay on her stomach, staring over the pillow at the hues of the clouds shifting from pink and purple in the sunset. The stars were starting to peek out and the smell turkey was wafting in from the hallway. It was dinnertime. She heard Madam Pomfrey speaking to someone in the background. It would be time to go soon. Then she heard the voice speak back and she recognized its deep eloquence. Her professor. She squeezed the pillow. And here she was in her nightgown! She heard his boots echoing on the castle floor towards her bedside.

He spoke, "You aren't one to play sick, Miss Granger. Madam Pomfrey said that she could find no signs of illness with you. Yet, this is my area of expertise. Shall I check you?" Her face flushed. There was no way that she could turn to face him.

"Miss Granger, are you feigning sleep now as well?" He placed a hand on her shoulder. She rolled over to reveal a guilty, vulnerable face. He decided to prod some more. "Come now, let me look at you." He gestured for her to sit up. She complied. He sat beside her and felt at her lymph nodes. Goosebumps rose beneath his fingers. Was this an adverse reaction? He had only wanted her to admit her falsity, though he did not know why he felt driven to do so. Maybe it was because he was living a lie and he wanted someone else to divulge a dark truth, something he would never be capable of. Or maybe, he wanted her to build on her lies and sink to the depths where he existed. No, even if she were tarnished, that Gryffindor spirit would let her shine like the gold on the emblem. It was no wonder that black was a Slytherin color, much like the souls of many of its members. Whenever someone in the dark sees a glimmering light, they can't help but reach for it. He began to covet that glow, with Lily. He pulled his hands back into the darkness.

"You're fine, Miss Granger. As expected." He said in a monotone voice.

She looked at the floor, "You were just playing with me. You knew I was fine."

She said with consternation. He couldn't help but smirk.

"Your punishment for skipping class." Abruptly, he got up from the bed." I expect to see you tomorrow." He said in a teacher's tone.

"But, professor, there are no classes on Saturday." She responded.

"Always citing the facts." He retorted with a shadow of a smile on his face, "But, this is for detention." With that, he turned on the heel of his boot, his coat following behind him as he walked out of the infirmary, leaving her bereft.