It wasn't long before the new term had begun had Hogwarts. Although she kept her eyes and ears open for Harry and Ron, she had her own interest to pursue and his name was Professor Snape. No longer in charge of Potions now the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a position she could tell he had pride in assuming. Her world was changing, and this was another symbol of how the safety of her routine was crumbling around her. Ever the Gryffindor, she kept steadfast and strong while accepting and trying to understand the differences that were arising within and around her. She had to admit, there was a time when she had butterflies for her red-headed friend, but that felt like a childhood crush now due to the passion resounding from what she liked to think were more adult encounters with her Professor. The fantasy about the potion's storage closet would have to go now; she wondered what new ones would arise from D.A.D.A. Sometimes, it was nice pretending to be a simple schoolgirl unaware of the war outside.

Perhaps within the first class Hermione could spot what kind of man Horace Slughorn was. Sure, he was knowledgeable and friendly. Anyone who met him might assume he was a Hufflepuff if they didn't investigate further. But he was a trophy collector, the kind of man who would ignore someone if they didn't catch the light quite right. She made sure to polish herself as to keep on his good side since she knew Harry was already within his graces. Her heart went out to Ron.

Soon it was time for the first D.A.D.A class of the year. As in Potion's, her Professor stood solemnly in front of the class watching the students pour in with disdain on his lips as if none of them could live up to his expectations. She could feel a deep desire for approval wash over her.

"Good afternoon class." He spoke as if nothing were good about it, "Welcome to your first intelligible class on Defense Against the Dark Arts." He paced back and forward while he spoke, like a panther looking at prey. "Do I have a volunteer for a demonstration?" As always, Hermione's arm had the reflex to shoot up. Yet, she knew he wasn't accepting willing volunteers. "Mr. Jordan," he spotted a vulnerable one, "we shall start out easy. Come show the class how to defend against a leg locking curse." Before Lee Jordan could step onto the stage, Snape spoke, "Locomotor Mortis." Hermione noted the execution, and the way his biceps bunched and his back arched like releasing an arrow. His robes moved against the flow of his body. It took effect quickly.

"You cast it before he could approach you." Hermione stated almost as an afterthought.

Snape took it as her speaking against an injustice. "That is how dark magic will come at you Miss Granger. I believe I saw your hand before. Scratch that, I don't even have to look to know it's in the air. So, since you find yourself more suited, would you care to exhibit your skills?"

She took a breath through her nose. Her wand was ready in her hand, she knew he would cast it before she acknowledged. She barely nodded before she became locked in a dance of sparks between them. He would cast and she would counter for several seconds when he derided, "Adequate, Miss Granger." This was enough to throw her off when he sent a Pertificus Totalus her way. She could feel something like ropes entwining and tightening around her body as she fell to her knees at her Professor's feet.

She looked up at him and could feel the blood rising to her cheeks. The way he was standing over her brought her a new perspective of submission, almost like she was bowing to a master. His dark eyes seem to mirror the sentiment. She began to struggle against the binding; she was embarrassed to show this face, this position for the enjoyment of the class. She could catch Harry out of the corner of her eye sending a spell in Snape's direction. He deflected it and sneered, "It appears that Mr. Potter knows how to attack like a dark wizard." The bell rang to break the silence. "Class dismissed. Get out." Snape announced. Harry and Ron were moving forward to aid their friend. "That means you. Unless you want to see me in detention for the stunt you pulled." He continued.

She noted Harry's narrowed brow and Ron's concern as they slowly retreated. "It'll be alright Hermione." They murmured before exiting.

Snape knelt down beside her on the stage. "Try to relax, Miss Granger. It gets tighter if you struggle." He stated.

"I could have if I didn't show the world how I look on my knees!" Her voice broke.

He sighed and placed a hand on her head. She began to settle under his touch, able to move her digits again.

"It should only be a matter of time now." He assured. There was a silence between them as the spell was unraveling. "I would apologize under other circumstances, yet there are some things you can only learn through experience."

She was free now, although it looked like he didn't quite know it yet. Her Gryffindor nerve got a hold of her, "Experience." She stated before lunging at her Professor to place a swift kiss on his lips. "I'd like to develop that further." She took off, leaving him without comment, brushing the place where she had been with his fingertips.

'So you can stun without a spell.' He thought briefly.

…

Time was moving forward at an alarming pace. Harry had discovered some mystery book that was allowing his effortless success in Potions. Hermione had wanted to prove to herself that she was just as capable as the author of the scribbles in the book that she had assumed was a witch. That was until she examined the writing. It was then that she realized how slow-witted the two boys she associated herself with could really be. After all, the man had written in more red ink on their papers than he ever had on hers. Shouldn't they recognize the handwriting of Severus Snape? She would let them discover that one on their own. Yet this recognition for her cemented how truly gifted the man was and the votive candle within her only glowed brighter.

The Slug Club was one of the unfortunate side effects of her success in Potions, especially since Harry did not accompany her and Ron simply could not. She was sipping cocoa in one of the cozy arm chairs when the Professor proclaimed, "So it's decided, we shall have a dance!" She must have drifted out of the conversation, nearly choking on her hot drink. "Everyone is free to bring a partner, of any House. Miss Granger, you will tell Harry to join us, won't you?" He gave her a pudgy smile.

"Of course, sir." She smiled back weakly.

'A dance.' She thought as she was walking on her way back to the Gryffindor tower, through the empty halls. 'Who would I go with?' echoed in her mind. Suddenly, she saw the familiar black robes billowing up from the end of the hallway. She let the thought cross her mind of asking Professor Snape. When imagining his enthusiastic response, she couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.

By this time Snape was alongside her, observing the pure adolescent giddiness. Surely it was an oddity to be seen on a normally mature and composed Miss Granger. He couldn't help but pry. "Did I miss the joke?" He queried.

She appeared startled and somewhat shy, "No, Professor. I was merely imaging what it will be like at Slughorn's ball."

His stomach turned sour. Was she about to become another scatterbrained teenager caught in the throes of pubescent conceptions of love? He didn't want the potential she had to be wasted on someone undeserving, a meaningless boy. His lips became a fine line of disapproval. Perhaps his presence would solve the problem. "Yes, I will be there as well as a faculty advisor." He stated.

He noted the brightening of her face rather than the fear or dissent he had anticipated. "Oh." She smiled. "Will you reserve a dance for me, Professor?"

At the moment he could see no harm, "I shall keep you on my card, Miss Granger."