Okay witches and wizards, I'm so so sorry for leaving this so long, I've just been so busy...doing nothing! Just kidding, I've been breaking things and writing things and I have a few little fanfic ideas that hopefully I'll get round too in the fall. Sadly, I fly away on the 17th for two weeks, but I hope to get at least two more chapters done before then. Thankyou for reading and hopefully reviewing!

Snape stood and ushered Hermione to follow. She quickly jumped to her feet, and brushed herself down. She yelped out in pain when she used her left wrist, It was the wrist that Snape had dragged her from the edge of the grass. Wordlessly, Snape took her fingers in his hand and gently pushed back the cloak covering her. Her wrist was inflamed, reddened, and several blueish marks had began showing, giving the appearance of fingermarks. Snape inhaled sharply as Hermione winced in pain.

Snape withdrew his wand from his pocket and quietly cast a spell on Hermiones wrist. A lilac mist appeared around Hermiones wrist before turning a white colour, and Snape tsked at the news. Hermione deducted that it must have been some sort of diagnosing spell, but she had never seen or heard of anything turning lilac or white. To be completely honest she was more detracted by the insane throbbing of the sharp pain that now resided within her wrist. "Wha?" She offered up, but the growing pain in her wrist took priority and she stifled yet another sob. Honestly, she didn't want to appear too hurt, and inwardly cursed the professor for his now interfering nature.

"It seems Miss Granger, you have managed to break your wrist. It will be best to take you back to my study" Snape sighed audibly, "And fix you up from there." Hermione looked quite disgruntled at this news. She didn't move from her spot. "Granger. Simply, I don't want to fix your dammed wrist with my wand, right here in the open. Come back to my study. It will be easier. You're the one that broke the blasted thing, falling off the grass edge ever so elegantly.I don't like the idea of being in your company any more than you do in mine." Snape knew he was lying, but Hermione obviously didn't seem elated at the idea of spending more with me with the venomous Potions Master. Hermione bit back, her sarcasam surprising and matching Snape. "Well Professor, I could just go to the Hospital Wing and explain what happened? Unless you want to do Madame Pomfrey the honour of explaining why you had to pull my up from grass in the first place, with such force?" Hermione once again held out her wrist and Snape noted the now deep purple finger marks marring her wrist. It seemed Snape retained the strength he was once forced to gain. In all honesty, Hermione liked the idea of spending more time with Snape. After his admission of her being wanted, not by him obviously, but still wanted, she seemed less afraid. She wasn't really afraid of him anymore, but that dark light that seemed to permanently exist within her chest eased off a little. "No. Miss Granger. That won't be necessary." She smiled wryly at him. She showed she could use the situation to her advantage, something that Snape admired.

The walk back to the castle was a tedious one, long and filled will awkward silence and pregnant pauses. Hermione seemed intent, to Snape, on asking the most intrusive questions. He understood her motives for asking the questions, but really wished she wouldn't. The concern, although it wasn't entirely unwelcome, was completely unnecessary. Snape couldn't understand, in all his Slytherin greatness why Hermione Granger seemed quite so concerned with him. He possessed no admirable qualities. Sure he was intelligent, regrettably so, to the point where his schoolmates used to belittle him. He was blatantly unattractive. His face was overshadowed by his crooked large nose, broken time and time again, and his eyes were deep, and sallow. His teeth were mashed together unevenly. He recalled being punched by his father, around the age of seven or eight, when his second set of teeth were coming in. He quickly shuddered, remembering the fear that ran through him. His hair possessed the charisma of the dead, taking the appearance of a black willow tree. He was ashamed of his body most of all, it was heavily marred by both his child and adult hood. The Dark Lord, although he took Severus back when he returned, always had a particular fondness for torturing his followers. Bellatrix, her bloodlust outstanding, horrifying Snape on more than one occasion seemed to be the only one that appreciated the curses, hexes and jinks that were continuously thrown their way.

In honesty, he was ashamed of himself. He knew Hermione wouldn't be one to focus on appearance, but his personality, his mind were far too dark and bitter for her. He was sure of it. She didn't need someone like him, because, well, no one needed him. He was only drawn from his thoughts when Hermione coughed loudly indicating he'd missed another intrusive question of hers. "Furballs returned, Miss Granger?" He said, laced with dry sarcasm. She threw Snape a rather embarrassed look, both of their emotions seemed to be frazzled. "I asked, how you came up with the anti-panic potion you gave me, Sir." She seemed defeated, the earlier wit and determination seemed far away.

"Well Miss Granger, as I'm sure you can deduce, I have panic attacks. The potion Madame Pomfrey gave me, although useful, came with several side effects. Upon further research, I found ways to minimize the effects, as well as increasing the length the potion banishes fear for." Hermione nodded.

Thankfully, the walk was soon over and in little time Hermione found herself yet again in the potion Masters study. Once more, she was sat in his armchair and uncomfortable in the overbearing room. He again, ignored her presence all together and walked straight through a door, to a room which contained what she only thought must contain a large array of potion ingredients. He came out, once again, holding potions. Hermione had been biting down on her lip, her wrist hurt, but after the pain she had endured over the past summer, it was minimal. She pulled her wrist back up, as Snape pushed the potions on to the table resting by the armchair she inhabited. "Drink." He spat at her, and sat in the place opposite. Hermione gulped down three potions, they all tasted disgusting.

Thankfully, the purple marks quickly vanished from her wrist, as did the other markings caused by Snapes yank. Her breathing evened out as the pain left her. Her features relaxed, and it occurred to Snape that once more Hermione was really rather pretty relaxed. This thought caused him to turn his head from her. "If that's all, Miss Granger, you may leave." Hermione seemed to look through him, and for a moment forgot exactly where she was sitting. Suddenly, as if only hearing his words, moments after he actually spoke them, she rose, rather ghost like from his chair, and went to walk out the door.

Sensing he would regret what he was about to say, he waiting until Hermione had just crossed the threshold before calling out "Miss Granger" into the air. She didn't respond, but she didn't need to, for her heard her footsteps stop and the sound of turning. "It would, perhaps, be prudent if I taught you to brew the anti-panic potion, so you can stop bothering me?" His words, perhaps to the untrained ear would have sounded callus and unwelcome, but she knew, after what he said to her, that he cared. "Yes Sir." "Sunday then." "Sunday." she echoed.

Hermione walked down the hall feeling the dark light among her chest diminish slightly more. It seemed this year wouldn't be a total waste of time.