To eliminate the option of delving into any more unwanted conversation, Snape surreptitiously added a drop of dreamless sleep to the girl's tea. Before drifting off he heard her mumble something to the like of, "I'm glad I got to know a little more about you, Professor."
Was he glad? He was unsure of how to feel, especially when he had put on such a show of vulnerability to an adolescent, his student. He did not have much fluency in trust, and he certainly could not place it in her young mind. Ignorance was bliss. That was why decided continuing down the same path would lead to ruin for both him and the girl. He had to end their training sessions, stop exploring her mind and treat her as he would any other scholar. That was right he told himself, she was no different. As he was sipping his tea he could feel pressure on his left shoulder. She had fallen asleep on his arm. He cast a glance down at her youthful face, eyelids heavy, full lips slightly parted. 'If she were a flower,' he thought, 'she would merely be a bud.' Nevertheless, he could not deny the promise of the woman to come. He let her lie there as he stared into the embers of the fire, the light in the room fading, until he had finished his tea.
"-Granger." A familiar voice echoed in her ears. "Miss Granger." It became more of a command. Her eyelids fluttered open to see her Professor standing over her in black robes with brass buttons. Her eyes became wider as she recalled where she was, but she couldn't remember falling asleep. "Welcome to the world of the living." He continued, "It is almost time for breakfast. You will inform your friends that you spent the night in the library due to Umbridge's meddling decree. Go quickly to the dining hall, I have made sure that no one is in sight." For some reason she felt a knot in her stomach, it was as if she had just gotten here, just been given a glimpse of something other than the sneering persona, and she didn't want to be another member of the classroom where that was all she would know. "Go now." He instructed. She did so, noting that her feet where fully recovered.
"Thank you, for last night." She smiled briefly and exited before he could respond that there would be no more.
As time went on, Hermione realized that she could never again be like her classmates in seeing the 'greasy git' as Ron would put it. Although he had ended every furtive meeting between them in her fifth year, much to her chagrin, she continued to hear of Harry's progression in occulumency. They were sitting at the dinner table when he shared the tale of entering Snape's memories. Hermione nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. 'Lily-' she thought, 'Harry's mother?' While Ron and Harry were exchanging words about it, she couldn't help but glance up at the teacher's table.
Snape could feel eyes boring into him. He cast a scornful look in the general direction, noting Hermione's flushed face speckled with distress and knowing. 'Oh, good,' he thought as he returned to examining his plate. 'Potter has shared with the world what a hero his father was.' But, what was that awareness in her eyes?
From that point on, the boys noted extra precaution when mentioning Snape around Hermione. She would throw in a 'Professor' or add a reason as to why circumstances may not appear to be what they were. During the late summer, after the downfall of Dolores Umbridge, discovery of the prophecy, and loss of loved ones came a darkness that seemed to be closing in on the group of three. Harry and Dumbledore were out collecting Horace Slughorn whilst Ron and Hermione were having a talk of the usual suspects at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. He was growing tired of her attention to detail and blurted without much thought, "What, do you have a crush on the dungeon bat?" He was too busy elbowing her and laughing to examine her response. Her face flushed and she swallowed hard, she thought of a typical response, "How could anyone have a crush on a professor? Even if they were less grimy, it would be uncouth."
"Uncouth indeed, Miss Granger." came a deep, venomous voice from the stairwell outside of the doorway. Her heart raced and she stood up from her seat on the floor at his entrance. Ron shuffled to his feet as well. "Not that you will be of any help, but I have an important message to convey to Headmaster Dumbledore. When will he return?" His voice was acid. She didn't know one person could make her feel so cold. She felt positively horrible and ashamed of herself for trying to fit Ron's stupid idea of a normal person. She couldn't bring herself to respond and pulled at the hem of her shirt. Ron was never one to talk in front of his favorite professor, so he stayed silent as well. 'Speak up!' Hermione thought desperately. Snape glided forward, "No one? Very well then, I shall await his arrival downstairs." He turned keeping his hand on the doorframe. "And do keep your hormones to yourselves."
After he disappeared, Hermione's stomach flipped. Ron was scratching the back of his head as he chuckled, "Sorry 'Mione." She wanted to hit him.
Night had fallen and Ron was asleep in the bedroom he shared with Harry, pending his return. Hermione crept softly down the stairs hoping to get a glass of milk before bed. Many things worried her, and sleep did not come as easy as it did to the boy who had trained himself to do so amid the snores of several brothers and sisters. She was in her nightgown as she saw Professor Snape leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. "A cup of tea before bed?" He sneered, letting her know that he had information gathered on the girl.
"A cup of milk, actually." She responded humbly. Should she approach him in apology? How could she meet the needs of the man known as Severus Snape when she didn't know what they were? She took a step forward. His body tensed. She stayed and spoke gently, "I did not mean what I said earlier." He twitched. "No, I mean, not that I have a crush on you or anything," She continued, "but, you are not a grimy man. I was just trying to throw Ron off."
Some tension appeared to leave Snape's body. "Now, why would you want to do that?"
Hermione caught the curiosity in her Professor's dark eyes. "I really don't have an answer for that." She stated genuinely.
"So, Miss Granger, what do you think of me?" Snape took a step forward.
She stood her ground and closed her eyes to envision all of the things she had thought about her Professor. "You are a clean and masculine man, though your outward appearance may not always suggest such things. You are cunning, intelligent, self-sufficient and trustworthy."
"Trustworthy?" He took another step towards her, nearly bridging the gap between them. He put a rough hand up to her throat. "Here I am in the dark with my hand wrapped around the neck of a girl in her nightgown. Does that suggest such a description?"
She fevered at the feeling of his large, elegant hand completely encasing her. He hadn't known the various daydreams she had acted out whilst in and out of his class, although, this one was new. "Yes." She replied slightly choked. "Because I know you."
Wordlessly, he pressed her lithe body against the wall, one hand at her neck and the other on her shoulder. "You know nothing." He spat silently. He could feel the blood pulsing hard through her carotid artery, if this was due to fear, why did her face not show it? She either belonged in Slytherin or, this girl was enjoying it. Her skin was soft, her hair hung loosely over his hands and she gazed up at him with something akin to wanting. The little bud was beginning to unfurl. That look echoed the one he had seen when this all began. The one that had made him ache to explore her further. If he stood there any longer, his hands would begin to move on their own. He yearned to show her how little she knew, about many things. Astuteness intact, he smoothly let her go. "And I will not have you begging me to know, either."