Chapter 7

For the next week, Hermione recovered in the hospital wing under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey. The enforced rest gave her plenty of time to think … and to write her thoughts in her journal, as a means of sorting them out.

She saw Ginny regularly, but strangely her friend did not bring up the subject of Snape one time, even though she often looked very much as if she wished to speak. Hermione was very grateful for this little restraint on Ginny's part. For, Hermione's feelings were just too new to be spoken about, even to those closest to her.

The written word was another matter, however. And, the pages of her journal were filling up fast with all that she wished to pour from her heart. Since Hermione had never felt the need to hide anything away when writing, it did not take very long for her to admit, if only to herself, that she loved Severus Snape.

Yes, he is often insufferable, but he is also good, noble and fascinating … just plain fascinating. I do not think I should ever get bored of him. Just being in his presence presents a challenge, and I enjoy a challenge, she wrote one early morning, as she waited for her breakfast to arrive. If Ginny were to ask me now how I feel about Severus, and I had the courage to answer honestly, I would say that I think I love him …

"Hello, Hermione!" A deep, cheerful voice said, breaking into her thoughts. And there stood Harry, breakfast tray in hand and grinning madly.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, reaching out to him immediately. "What are you doing here?" Harry strode to the bedside table, relieved himself of the tray, and turned to hug her tightly.

"I was released yesterday. Ginny said I could bring in your breakfast tray as a surprise." He was still grinning as he dragged the visitors chair to her bedside.

"Well, I'm so glad to see you," she exclaimed. "Are you feeling quite well, then?" She watched him seat himself.

"Much better, thank you, and you?" he asked, his eyes darkening with concern.

"I am better, as well," she answered with a generous smile. "Thank you for sending 'get well' messages by way of Ginny. Thank Ron for me, too. It was really lovely to know you both were thinking of me."

Harry looked subdued, "We were really worried about you there at the beginning. Ginny kept us up-to-date on your condition. You should have seen Ron. He was nearly frantic," he continued with only a trace of his former grin. "It took a very stern talking to from Madam Pomfrey to settle him down."

Hermione returned his smile with a small, tentative one of her own. But, it did not quite reach her eyes. She did not say anything.

Harry, noticing her reticence on the subject of Ron, gently lifted her hand from her lap and held it in his own. "Hermione, is something wrong? The last time you visited Ron and I in our cubicle I noticed you seemed a bit uncomfortable with him, and just now you …"

"I'm fine, Harry," she said in clipped, no-nonsense tones, effectively cutting him off. "I'm just a bit tired is all."

And, I do not want to talk about this with you.

Harry regarded her with quiet suspicion. "Alright," he conceded reluctantly.

"How is Ron doing?" Hermione's voice was too bright.

"He is doing well. Madam Pomfrey says he'll need to stay another week, which disheartens him because he can't visit you." Here Harry paused. "I hear you've been receiving another visitor, though," he said with studied carelessness. "Ginny says Snape has been here every day since you got here.

Hermione fidgeted with the edges of her blanket. She felt her cheeks reddening. "Yes," she whispered. She did not offer up any further information.

Harry squeezed her hand. "It's not like Snape to take such care of anyone."

"No," Hermione said, her eyes on her journal.

"Hermione, you know I will always listen to anything you have to say. Is there anything …"

"No, Harry," Hermione said quietly, her eyes pleading with him. "Just leave it."

Harry nodded regretfully. "Well, this has been fun," he said with a grin. "Let's not do this again really soon." Hermione laughed nervously, as he heart lessoned it frightened pounding. "I'll come back again. And, I promise to be more amusing next time." He squeezed her hand again and stood to go.

"Thanks for coming, Harry," she said sincerely. Uncomfortable as the visit had been, at least she knew Harry cared.

She smiled apologetically at him, as he left.

"I know he suspects something," she murmured to herself as she shoved her journal into her bedside table drawer. "What on earth would he think if he knew the truth?"

Suddenly Hermione felt exhausted. So much so, that she decided to leave her breakfast in favor of a nap. Slowly, her reeling mind began to slow down. Just before she fell into a comfortable sleep, she remembered that Snape was coming after supper, as he had each of the last few evenings. And, when her eyes finally slipped closed, she was contentedly smiling at the thought.

From the time Hermione awoke on her last day in the hospital wing, she waited anxiously for Madam Pomfrey to come to release her. She knew she must go directly to her rooms and stay there for the next week, but at least she need not stay in bed the whole time. The thought of moving around again was most pleasing to her, indeed.

With eyes darting to the entrance to her cubicle repeatedly, Hermione ate her breakfast, performed her toilette, and packed her belongings. Just as she finished her tasks, Madam Pomfrey entered in her usual brisk manner, along with, to Hermione's great surprise, Snape.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said cheerfully. Hermione smiled at both the matron and Snape. Snape's lips quirked in what was, for him at least, a half smile in return. "How are you feeling today?" Madam Pomfrey asked, as she crossed to Hermione's bed and began a perfunctory exam.

"Very well, thank you."

Madam Pomfrey moved her wand with practiced ease over her patient. "Mm-hm … yes. Everything appears to be in order," she said with satisfaction, as she straightened to her full height and stowed her wand away in her apron. "You can go. Severus will escort you to your rooms and has consented to monitor your continued recovery for the next seven days. All right?" Hermione nodded, and let her eyes flicker to Snape's, along with an appreciative smile. He only inclined his head at her in recognition.

No, Hermione had no problems with Snape continuing to care for her. There was no question that his bedside manner was extraordinary, at least as far as she was concerned. He seemed to know exactly what to do to make her comfortable and keep her amused. He had been gentleness itself when he had administered her potions or helped her to a drink of water, in the earlier days of her illness. He had always spoken softly and soothingly, thus saving wear and tear on her jangling nerves. And, he always seemed to know when she hadn't the strength to converse, and at those time simply read to her in his rich, deep baritone. She had fallen asleep twice just listening to that voice. His presence would be welcome for these reasons and so many more.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then," Madam Pomfrey said, jarring Hermione from her musings. The matron's quill scratched a quick note on Hermione's chart. Then, she looked up at her assistant seriously. "I expect you will take better care of yourself from now on, won't you?"

Hermione new this was not a rhetorical question. "You'll need to get more rest and eat properly, unless you'd like to repeat this little episode," Madam Pomfrey spoke sharply, her lips pursed.

Hermione thought she heard Snape release a soft snort. "No, thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I'll not be back—as a patient, anyway," she replied, feeling properly cowed.

"Very well," the matron said, her sharp features softening a bit. "You may return to work next week, assuming your health is good. But, you'll only work half shifts with both Severus and with me at first. Agreed?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said deferentially.

The matron patted Hermione arms fondly. "Good. Be off with you, then." And, she disappeared behind the partition, with a nod to Snape, who returned the gesture curtly.

He came forward and laid his hand on Hermione's bag. She let out a nervous breath and caught his glance. "Poppy can be something of a terror when righteously indignant," he said with another half-smile. Hermione knew it was his way of commiserating with her.

"Yes," she said gratefully.

"She's right, though. And, she is only concerned for your welfare—as am I," he finished softly, his eyes briefly searching hers.

"I know," she whispered. Warmth was flooding her at his confession. "Thank you, Severus."

There, she had said it. She had said his first name. His black eyes laughed at her obvious nervous determination. "You are welcome. Are you ready?" he asked, as he picked up her bag.

"More than," she affirmed, standing up. "I can't wait to be in my own rooms."

"I am sure," he answered. "I've never had much patience with confinement."

"I'll bet," she laughed good-naturedly. She could not imagine Snape being a compliant, docile patient. He must have driven Madam Pomfrey to distraction in the times he'd been in her care during his spying days.

"Indeed," Snape smirked. "Shall we?" He offered his arm, much to Hermione's surprise. She did her best to keep her face neutral as she gently tucked her hand into the crease of his elbow.

His gentle chuckle told her he was not fooled. And, he only chuckled again when she attempted to playfully glare him into silence. "You know, I really do appreciate all you've done for me these last several days, Severus," Hermione finally said sincerely. She did not look at him as she spoke. "It could not have been easy doing all the necessary brewing and visiting me every day."

At this, she felt his hand lightly touch hers as it clung to his arm. Her eyes shot up to his, and she felt shocked at the tenderness she saw there. "I would not have had it any other way." He paused, as he gently stroked the hand under his. "Don't you know that, Hermione?" His voice was tight with what Hermione could only guess was restrained emotion.

They had stopped walking and were now standing half facing each other. "Yes," she whispered raggedly.

She could not tear her eyes away from the intensity of his gaze. Her heart was pounding, her breathing shallow. Slowly, Snape's face neared hers, and it seemed as though he would kiss her.

In that moment, she felt lost in his dark, probing eyes ...

But, then, without warning, he pulled back and the longing in his expression disappeared. She watched as his face fell into its usual unreadable lines. And Hermione was jarred back to reality, as he wordlessly led her to the steps that would take them to the dungeons.

She turned her head to hide tiny smile.

He almost kissed me! she thought triumphantly. She felt almost as happy as if he really had. For, she had learned that it was the little things, the small nuances, which meant so much when reading the intentions of Snape's complicated heart.

"Careful," he said, stepping down to the first stair. "Let me lead the way." He took her hand and helped her down one step at a time until they reached bottom.

Hermione's weakened constitution, and stiff, unused muscles protested almost the entire way. She let out a barely audible groan.

Snape regarded her carefully. She had paled and was shaking slightly. "I fear the trip is too much for you. Are you all right?"

"Yes," she answered. But, her pinched face and the sheen of perspiration on her brow told another tale.

"No, you are not," Snape said decidedly. Then, to her very great surprise, he swept her carefully into his arms. He cradled her easily as he strode down the corridor towards Hermione's quarters.

"Severus!" she protested. "You cannot mean to carry me all the way to my rooms!"

"I do, indeed," His tone was inarguable. "Your quarters are not so very far, in any case." Hermione leaned into him and laid her head on his shoulder in acquiescence.

Neither Snape, nor Hermione spoke again until they reached her portrait hole. She murmured her password and Snape handed her into her rooms and gracefully swept in after her.

"To bed with you," he said, his tone implacable. "Now."

"Yes, sir," she teased weakly. But, he only gave her a hard stare, as he set her bag down. Then he wordlessly waved a languid hand at the hearth, thus Conjuring a fire in the grate.

Hermione went to her bed and sunk gratefully into it. She was glad she had put on a Muggle sweat suit that morning. It was soft and fleecy … perfect for sleeping in.

Snape did not come near her bed, but seemed to be observing her very closely. Only when he was satisfied she was comfortably settled did he speak again. "I will instruct the house-elves to bring you lunch in a few hours, and I will check on you then. I want you to stay in bed until that time."

Hermione felt a flash of indignance rush through her at his commanding tone, but let it die a quick death, so that the former warmth she'd felt earlier could reestablish itself.

"Yes, Severus," she agreed with mock sincerity. She turned a look of playful innocence on him, but he ignored it.

"Good," he said with a small nod. "Rest well." And, he left, his robes fluttering out the door behind him.

Hermione was so tired she could not muster the strength to analyse the intense scene she and Snape had just played out before descending the stairs.

"He almost kissed me," she murmured dreamily. Then, she fell instantly asleep.

Over the next seven days, Snape and Hermione fell back into the same routine they'd maintained during Hermione's stay at the hospital wing, with the exception that he checked on her each morning and at midday, besides his more protracted visits in the evenings.

With each moment they spent together, their relationship grew in scope and intensity. Snape did not attempt to kiss Hermione again. And, she was not surprised. For she knew him to be an honourable man. He would not, by any means, initiate something so intimate while she was still a semi-invalid in her quarters. It would have seemed too much like taking advantage.

Hermione had other visitors during the day. Ginny came at lunch, and Harry always spent a good deal of the afternoon with her. Even Professor McGonagall sat with her a time or two. But, no one ever came while Snape was with her in the evenings. Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that her friends, each for their own reasons, did not wish to intrude on that time.

Hermione kept waiting for either Ginny or Harry to try to press her for information regarding her burgeoning relationship with Snape, but they never did. And, this pleased her very much.

They did however keep her updated on Ron's condition. Midway through her at home recovery, Ginny informed her that Ron had been released and was now in the quarters he and Harry shared.

Hermione was heartily glad to hear her friend was doing so well. But, part of her knew, based on the not so subtle hints Harry had begun dropping that Ron's feelings had indeed been rekindled concerning her. And, she sensed a day of reckoning was near at hand. She was sure that Ron would not rest until he had spoken of all that was in his heart.

She knew what she must say, but she dreaded it. Her only hope was that Snape would speak to her first. Perhaps if her relationship with him became known, Ron would quietly recede into the background to nurse his broken heart without the confrontational scene Hermione was envisioning otherwise. She knew it was a cowardly wish, but she couldn't help wanting it to happen just the same.

As for Snape, she was certain he would wait to reveal his heart until he was sure she was well and truly recovered. She only wondered how long after she was returned to work he would wait. She hoped with all her heart it would not be long. And not just for the sake of her situation with Ron.

She found that, more and more, she wished to have a concrete understanding between them. She wanted to hear his heart. She was not so foolish as to believe him terribly romantic. No, Severus Snape was not a hearts and flowers type of wizard. Then again, that was not what she wanted anyway. She only wished to hear his true feelings—from his own mouth. His actions had most assuredly spoken volumes to her, but she needed to hear his confession, as well.

On the morning of the last day of her confinement, Snape arrived to escort her to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey's last assessment of Hermione's health. She had protested that she could find her way to her appointment on her own, but Snape had insisted on escorting her, so she had cheerfully given in.

As they stepped out of her rooms, Snape once again offered her his arm, just as he had done before. "Severus," Hermione laughed, "I am well. It is unlikely I will drop from exhaustion on this trip."

"I know that," he said. He was smiling down at her, but his voice was low, almost intimate, his arm still on offer.

"Oh," she said, her smile turning into an all out grin. And, she took his arm without further comment.

"You will be coming back to work tomorrow, then?" he asked, as they started out.

"I thought I might return today," she replied. "That is, after I get the all clear from Madam Pomfrey." She let her eyes slide to the side, observing his reaction.

He did not seem pleased.

"Don't you think you might want one more day of ease? Perhaps you've not …"

"Severus," Hermione interjected quietly. He looked at her, his face expressionless. "I understand your concern, but I think if I have to stay in my rooms one more day I'll go mad."

"I see." Snape's lips quirked as though he was trying to hide his amusement.

"At least let me sit with you in the Potions room for a bit. Maybe I could minimally assist in whatever you are brewing today." His eyes flashed at her disapprovingly. "I won't do anything more than chop ingredients, and I'll even sit on a stool the whole time, if you like." His gaze softened. "Please, Severus," she wheedled shamelessly.

His face, though uncertain, relaxed a bit more. "All right," he said, relenting uneasily. "But, if I say you must return to your rooms because I see you are tired, will you do so without argument?"

She smiled. She'd won. "Yes, Severus," she agreed happily.

Madam Pomfrey was really pleased with Hermione's much improved health, and, with another admonition that she not overdo, released her patient to return to work the aforementioned half-shift schedule. Hermione was overjoyed.

In the Potions room, Snape was solicitous of Hermione in the extreme. He nearly drove her up the wall with his watchfulness. He did indeed insist that she sit on her stool to watch him work. And, he only let her chop one or two ingredients.

Hermione felt frustrated, because she really felt quite well. She did not argue with her caretaker however, as she knew he would not hesitate to make her leave if she fought him.

And, after lunch, Snape did insist on walking her back to her rooms. She accepted his decision and his arm with good grace, though she was not at all enthusiastic about returning to her confinement.

The next day, Hermione expected Snape to give her more to do, but he was disinclined to do so, apparently. Instead, he kept his considerably intimidating eye upon her, and did not hesitate to put a stop to her participation in any activity he deemed too strenuous—which, at first, included anything taking her away from her stool.

She was allowed to do very little preparation for brewing. Snape opted instead to have her read research articles out of the Potions Journal, and summarise them, ostensibly for his personal research. Hermione, not being even remotely stupid, saw through her ex-professors ploy and proceeded to tease him mercilessly about it.

"I seem to remember a time when you said I'd get no 'coddling" from you," she said, waving the Potions Journal in the air, her eyes snapping with mock accusation. "So, what's this all about?"

"Hermione," he growled, shooting a warning glance at her as he continued to chop mallow root fiercely. "You heard what Madam Pomfrey said …"

"Indeed, I did, but I don't believe she meant you should put me in a glass case with a sign saying, 'For Display Only'!" She said this with a touch of heat and fire in her eyes.

Snape continued to glower at her. "A glass case…" he muttered disgustedly, but he did not relent … much to Hermione's chagrin.

I need a plan, she thought later that night.

It was apparent to her that Snape would keep her tied to her stool for an undetermined length of time unless she did something about it. So, the next day she tried arguing, pouting, and the silent treatment—in that order. But, Snape who could be infuriatingly patient when he set his mind to it, did not take the bait. He only went about his business, looking for all the world as if he and his assistant had been engaging in the pleasantest of conversations.

After two hours of this, Hermione felt her frustration level reach critical mass.

She exploded like an atom bomb.

Throwing the Journal with all her might, she jumped off her stool, looking like a wrathful lioness, and started yelling loudly. "I simply will not sit here copying useless information for some fictitious project that YOU," here she pointed at Snape like a judge putting forth judgment. "don't really need! Either give me something useful to do, or I am leaving!" She threw down her quill for emphasis, and the room fell silent, except for Hermione's panting from the effort she'd just expended.

It was Snape's move.

For a moment he just stared at her, taking in her heaving sides, her wild hair, with its few escaping tendrils of chestnut strands framing her anger-darkened face. Then, with his eyes narrowed, he stood to his full height and folded his arms over his chest in the now familiar, "I'm about to redress you, but good", attitude Hermione had been so used to seeing in her school days.

Oh, that's not good! she thought, her face blanching as an almost primal fear took her. She braced herself for the inevitable blast.

But, Snape only smirked at her. "Really, Hermione, such histrionics! If you wanted more to do, you might have just said something!" he said in quietly derisive tones.

"Ohhhhhh! You infuriating man!" She felt she wanted to fly at him, but had to content herself by just stomping a foot viciously. "You've been toying with me all along!"

Snape's face cracked into a full-fledged grin, and a long low rumble came from deep inside his chest. He was laughing—no, all out guffawing! Hermione looked aghast.

"You should see your face," Snape gasped between sniggers. "You look fit to kill!"

Hermione's eyes were hooded, her face set in grimly determined lines, if it was a little red with embarrassment. "Laugh away, Severus," she said coolly. "I'm getting something done."

Point, set, match! Severus Snape is the winner! she thought grimly as she moved to her workbench with as much dignity as she could dredge up, given the circumstances, and began laying out her potions tools.

"Well, as you are expending much more energy badgering me, than you might if I allowed you to chop ingredients, I suppose you are right. You might as well do something, er—constructive," he said to her back, a hint of laughter still in his voice.

Hermione turned to look at him and rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she bit out.

"You are welcome," he said, with another smirk. And, peace was restored.

Snape had conceded to Hermione concerning her workload, but he did not do so concerning her time spent in the Potions room over the next few days. On that, he was firm. She would not be allowed to work more than a couple of hours each morning, and then it was back to her rooms for a rest before going to the hospital wing. No amount of eye-rolling or cajoling on Hermione's part made any difference.

And, though Hermione put on a good show about being annoyed with his insistence, she was really pleased on one level with his overprotective behavior. It meant that he cared.

On her last half day with Snape, Hermione suggested that she return to her rooms on her own, for they had been working on a very delicate and labor-intensive potion. But, he insisted on escorting her, as usual, just as she had known he would. So, after she placed a stasis charm on the cauldron, they set out.

Both Snape and Hermione were in high spirits, though Snape would have rather drunk bubotuber pus than openly admit it. Hermione could tell, however.

Oh, his expression was as unreadable as ever, but she had learned to read his eyes. They were terribly expressive, she'd recently realised. Wisely, she had said nothing to indicate she'd noticed this, lest he feel obliged to hide from her in that manner also.

Their walk was pleasant, if a little too sedate for Hermione's taste. They talked over that evening's plans to meet in Hermione's rooms, as they had been doing since her discharge from the hospital wing. She had been half afraid he would stop visiting once she was well enough to get along on her own. But, he had shown no inclination to do so. This fact gave Hermione great hope for the future.

She did wonder, in her moments alone, why he had not made any move toward solidifying their relationship. She imagined he was a bit fearful she would not respond as he hoped. Or, perhaps he was unsure of how to proceed. She wondered if he'd ever had a romantic relationship with a woman before.

In her more uncertain moments, she wondered if she was reading him all wrong in the first place. Perhaps all they had in his mind was a friendship of sorts … That thought, quite frankly, made Hermione's blood run cold.

Had she put her heart on the line for him, only to have him reject her? But, that was ridiculous wasn't it? There was that "almost" kiss to consider …

She, of course, was not thinking along these lines now, as they continued to draw nearer to her quarters. She was enjoying their closeness and shared laughter. Snape was gently holding her hand at his elbow, as was their usual habit now, and she was giggling at something he'd said with his usual dry sarcasm …

Then, her mirth-filled eyes looked from Snape to her door and she froze. Standing there, with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, with a shocked expression on his face, was none other than Ron Weasley.