Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and words belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling and not to me. I'm just taking them out to play and promise to return them home safely!

As always, Moon Revel gets the credit for beta-reading this story. I am very grateful!

It was Thursday morning, and Hermione was frantically shifting through her wardrobe, trying (and failing) to find something suitable for her needs. She hoped, somehow, to attire herself in garments that would make her appear more professional, more adult, and more womanly. Why did she still have all the same clothes she wore as a schoolgirl?

Tearing off a blue jumper that she suddenly realized had been part of her wardrobe for three years, Hermione turned to look in the simple, gold-framed mirror that decorated the wall above her bureau. Her hair had grown quite long, as she had never cut it. It was still curly, but was no longer immensely bushy, as its heavy length helped tame it. The auburn waves cascaded down her shoulders, caressing the creamy flesh of her neck and chest. She had been carried along unasked on nature's ride of ripening adolescence, watching with timid interest as her body changed over the years. The blue lace-covered breasts she had now were full, and her hips were curvy. Standing almost garmentless in front of the mirror, she looked every bit woman, yet there was something lingering of the child—an innocent quality, perhaps. It could not be from inexperience. She had gained some of that with Ron. Yet, with Ron, all of that experience felt like a part of her growing up. Those first, hesitant explorations belonged to a young girl—and she had not yet progressed beyond that point. Hermione was not quite sure how to fully be the woman she had grown into.

Hermione thought that perhaps she needed to update her appearance for starters. She had never before taken much interest in all the girly things women did to enhance their beauty. She could use a Hair-Straightening Solution like she did for the Yule Ball, but that did not feel necessary now—she liked her hair long and wavy. She had never attempted to use makeup. Should she try it and see what difference it made? Too bad she could not ask Ginny for help…

Letting out an angered and frustrated sigh, Hermione turned from the mirror and fell backwards upon her bed. Why had she never let Lavender Brown teach her any of these girly essentials? She had refused Lavender's offer to give her a makeover so many times that she had come to feel offended by Lavender's relentless insistence. Well, she would not be asking Lavender for help either. Hermione would rather learn to do her makeup from a circus clown than to ever see Lav-Lav again!

Perhaps she could hold off on the makeup for now… Hermione had time before her Potions lesson to go into Diagon Alley. She needed to invest in some good teaching robes for this year anyway. She might as well pop over into Muggle London to pick up some new clothing while she was at it—clothing that she could feel good in, clothing that might help her feel more like the woman and less like the girl. Perhaps it would even help others (not mentioning any names… 'Miss' Fletchley…) respect her as an adult and teacher. And maybe it would help others (again, not mentioning any names… Severus) notice her as something more than a bright, but plain, witch.

It was all part of her plan. Severus had at least acknowledged her status as a fellow staff member. Yet, if she were to hope that he would ever take an interest in her, she must convince him to perceive her as an adult—a responsible, intelligent, and beautiful adult. Beyond that, she was not sure what might impress a man as elusive and complex as Severus Snape. She knew he admired responsibility and intelligence, but what interested him romantically? Hermione had no idea, but she felt it would not hurt to look more womanly and a little more attractive. It would do until she could get to know him better.

Hermione continued to lay sprawled on her back atop black bedding embroidered with red and pink roses overlaying green vines. She became lost in thoughts of the dark and dreamy Severus, inadvertently running her hands down along the sides of her waist and back up again in a caress. Suddenly feeling a chill and noticing the spreading goose bumps, Hermione stood up and pulled on the blue jumper once again. She pulled on a pair of jeans, slipped into her shoes, grabbed her knapsack, and headed for her fireplace.

"Diagon Alley!" she shouted as she disappeared with the emerald flames.

Severus Snape was in the Potions lab, setting out the ingredients and tools needed for that day's lesson with Hermione. Satisfied that everything was in order, he left and headed for his own quarters, only just down the hall. After working with slimy and gritty potion ingredients all morning, he wanted to take a shower to freshen up before seeing—no, before meeting with Hermione for her lesson.

Upon entering his quarters, he carefully removed his robes and other vestments, vanishing them to the house-elves' washing room. The pale ivory skin of his lean, toned body stood out like a beacon in contrast to the dark shades of forest green, navy blue, and earthy brown which adorned his walls, bedding, and furniture. Snape entered the loo and turned on the shower taps. He then stepped in under a satisfying spray of soothing, warm water, drenching the raven dark hair, which was an even starker contrast to the body which he had rarely allowed the sun to shine upon.

Unbidden, thoughts came to mind of his powerfully profound encounter with the Mirror of Erised. He felt the same emotions stirring within him once again. There had been such a pure feeling of love—tender, soothing, sweet. The passion between them could be felt, infusing him deeply, down into his very bones. The water pouring down over his face was suddenly mixed with a few salty trickles as he gasped aloud. The desire he felt for that experience to become real raged internally, but also manifested itself physically. Savagely, he yanked the tap to the right. He stood with his head and shoulders bent forward and one hand tensely braced against the shower wall, allowing the freezing deluge to move any wayward hardness back to the place where it belonged… in his heart.

Snape used a soft, black, cotton towel to roughly and vigorously dry his body. He could not pretend to himself that he did not truly desire love, but he would not allow himself to engage in this new fancy. Hoping for a romantic love of any sort was too far a stretch! Allowing Hermione to be the star of his own internal longings for love was simply ridiculous. It did not do to indulge in illusions. He remembered a famous Albus quip: "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Snape sneered as he pulled on fresh clothing, black—and identical to those he always wore. Now, if only he could figure out how it was possible to "live" when your dreams unceasingly demanded a piece of you in each and every moment.

If love is so powerfully consuming such as this, then just one taste of love has left me both in dread and in desire of more…

Snape began the trek up from the dungeons towards his office, which was located near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He would have to be careful to hide these feelings from Hermione. He would not be deceived so much by his desires as to become delirious with delusions that she would be welcoming (or reciprocal) of said desires!

Drawing up around him like a bubble his recently neglected, but so oft employed, persona of cold, detached, unimpressed, and uncaring professor, he entered his office to await the arrival of his apprentice.

Hermione arrived on time, which was never surprising and always expected. However, when she opened the door at Snape's invitation, she looked most surprisingly different than what he had come to expect.

She wore neither the school robes he had seen her in for the past seven years, nor the Muggle street clothes the kids wore during their breaks. She wore a long, black, silk skirt with cascading tiers that swirled and twirled with her as she strode into the room. She wore a white wraparound blouse, which accentuated her chest and clung to her waist. A thin layer of skin could be seen between the blouse and where the top of the skirt hugged her hips. She looked sensational. So beautiful…

Snape moved his eyes back to the papers on his desk so that she would not see his eyes widen. He swallowed heavily. Remember…

She greeted him warmly. Not looking up, he simply said, "My Gods, you are invariably punctual. Well, there is no reason to linger in my office today. I must finish something here, but go on down to the Potions lab. I will meet you down there shortly so we can get to work straight-away."

Hermione was a bit disappointed by Snape's utter lack of regard or friendliness. She answered, "Yes, s—Severus," and turned to exit the room again.

Snape watched her go from between the locks of hair that fell in front of his face whenever he bent forward. He sat up straight, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Once again, he felt an upsurge of that intensity which did not relish being suppressed. i Too bad. You have no choice/i He reminded himself of the tragedy which was his hopelessness. He reminded himself that he had loved once, but lost her before his love herself was lost forever. He reminded himself that opening up to someone and letting them in was also opening himself to reckless danger and certain pain. He reminded himself of the impossibility of actually falling in love and being loved in return.

As he stood to begin his walk to the Potions lab, he did not need to draw up again the persona that had threatened to dissolve at Hermione's appearance that day. Remembering the cruel reality which was his had strengthened it sufficiently. He swept bat-like through the halls, throwing open the door to the Potions lab when he reached it and allowing it to slam behind him with a ferocity that should have demanded a much greater force than he actually used to open it.

Hermione, startled, dropped a bag of beans she had been holding. The red and blue beans trickled all over the floor, moving together in pairs. As they rolled, they burst open and began to reach toward their mates with sinewy tendrils. The bean pairs then began reaching out to connect with the others, forming a swirling helix.

"Well done!" snarled Snape. "You have just ruined an expensive batch of painstakingly preserved and unsoiled Deinay beans! Whatever possessed you to begin before I arrived?" demanded Snape.

She just stared at him opened-mouthed and then regarded the spilled beans with horror.

He continued his tirade, "Now, it is obvious you have deduced which potion I am having you make today." When Hermione still did not respond, he asked impatiently, "Well?"

"You would like me to make the Skele-Gro Potion, I believe."

"You believe?" Snape snorted. "Well, you were only partially correct, Miss Granger. You are not simply making Skele-Gro in the same manner you did in your N.E.W.T. class. The point of these lessons is, as you must surely remember, to learn the art of potion making. You know the science well enough. You do remember this, do you not?"

"Yes, sir, I remember clearly. I did not think you would mind if I started preparing the ingredients, you know, just to get them ready before actually making the potion."

The inadvertent (on his side anyway) return to a formal style of addressing each other did not escape Snape. It was bothersome, but it was also consoling. He rather hoped she was getting the right—wait, actually the wrong impression.

"How ignorantly presumptuous of you. Preparing the ingredients is a vital part of the process—not to be overlooked. How do you know that you have not already missed an opportunity to improve the potion? Alterations may be made anywhere from the brewing, stirring, heating, or simmering of the potion to the addition or abandonment of certain ingredients."

Hermione frowned, pouring back into its jar a carefully measured cup containing something which resembled writhing earth worms. She then placed her hands in her lap, waiting for Snape to continue, but she did not look up at him.

"I shall trust you not to be so careless again. You are the apprentice of a Potions master, and I expect a great deal from you."

Hermione sighed, but said in a restrained voice, "I know it, sir. Please forgive my indiscretion. Will you tell me what you would like me to do with this potion?"

Since she was not looking his way, he indulged in a satisfied smile, but sternly said, "Very well then. Let us continue. . . As you are undoubtedly aware, drinking Skele-Gro is a very unpleasant and painful experience for the drinker. I would like you to see if you can keep all the necessary elements to ensure healthy and whole bone regrowth, while seeing if you can slightly alter either an element that will result in the reduction of the bitter taste, or in one that will nullify the burning the drinker feels as the potion rushes to do its work in the body. I assure you both can be done, but I will be satisfied enough at this time if you can figure out one of the two."

Hermione could not help but turn and stare wide-eyed at Snape. "How are such changes possible? Chapter twenty-two of Advanced Potion Making states specifically that the Skele-Gro Potion's chemical composition was intricately calculated, and the slightest error in its make-up could cause rapid bone growth or even the deterioration of all adjoining bones!"

Snape sneered at her and said, "If I have to tell you one more time that you are not here to practice the scientific aspect of potion making…"

"Alright, I know that, but I do not know how to figure this out!" she said with exasperation.

"Yes, you do," he answered, impatient. "You did it last week. Relax. Connect. Sense. Listen. The potion can be changed and improved. Now have at it!"

Snape said the last line commandingly. He then leaned back against the black countertop behind the work area where Hermione sat, his arms crossed under his chest and a look of annoyance on his face.

Hermione was alarmed and very perplexed. Snape was standing there like a preying vulture, while she tried unsuccessfully to relax. She tried to breathe deeply and relax the muscles in her body, but Snape's aggravated huffing only made her more tense.

She added the primary ingredients, letting them stew while she severed tangled lengths of coral into small pieces with her wand. She could just feel Snape rolling his eyes behind her. Well, how else was she supposed to break apart coral? Her knife would not suffice!

Hermione was trying to "sense" the potion, but its bitter fumes twisted her stomach. She felt revulsion, not connection. She added more ingredients to the bubbling cauldron. Then there was only one more ingredient to add, but she had to let the potion boil for four and a half minutes before doing so.

"Is it okay so far?" Hermione dared to ask.

Snape moved forward and hovered over her. He peered down into the cauldron. He shrugged and walked back to where he had been standing, saying, "I would not award it any House points."

Hermione fell silent. She felt her eyes watering. Perhaps it was due to the now-sparking potion emitting copious amounts of smoke… Some plan she had! Beauty? Strike one! He did not notice nor care. Responsibility? Strike two! She did not wait her mentor's instructions and spilled a valuable selection of Deinay beans. Intelligence? Strike three. She could not figure out how to improve this potion, and it was very unlikely she would.

Finally, it was time to add the last ingredient. The potion was coming along exactly as Advanced Potion Making said it should at this stage. However, she knew Snape was looking for something else… What? Snape stood in the back corner, his overbearing presence too close for Hermione to even think clearly. He had his arms folded and was watching her with a tiny smirk forming at the corners of his mouth and eyes. She lifted the ladle full of the twice-measured and -weighed, writhing worms. She heard Snape tut under his breath. She tensed even more and flung the worms into the potion unceremoniously. The potion turned bright white with faint squiggles of red trickling across the surface. Perfect.

Or not. "What a waste of my time this was," Snape spat cruelly. "I suppose last week was a fluke?" He pointed his wand at the potion. "Evanesco!" he said with satisfaction as the potion vanished into the ethers.

That's it! "Excuse me, sir," Hermione began coolly, "but I do not think you are being very fair."

Snape raised an eyebrow, his lip curling—clearly gearing up to admonish her with great and unhindered menace.

Hermione spoke swiftly before Snape could interrupt her, "How could you expect me to relax with you in such a right state? Your adverse attitude was a real restraint on my ability to focus and connect to my work. It was so distracting and so… different from my other lessons with you. It was like we were back in my fifth-year Potions class! I do not know why your teaching style then was so different than the one you employed last Thursday, but I would much prefer we continue to work in that fashion. It was so much more… congenial. I enjoyed the lesson, I was able to learn a great deal from you, and you had seemed acquiescent enough to teaching me."

Hermione had begun cleaning and clearing the working area as she spoke, but now she stopped and looked directly into Snape's eyes. "Are you just in a bad mood today?"

Crack! There goes all semblance of Professor "Moody"… Snape almost laughed. She was right, of course. His plan to hide his feelings under i that /i mask was not the best one. He should have known Hermione would not allow them to slip back into those roles of yesteryear. And truthfully, it did not feel very comfortable wearing that layer of himself anymore, even though it was easy enough to do.

Snape nodded and said, "You could say that."

Hermione asked hopefully, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

At that, Snape did laugh. Ironic. The only person who has asked me to share my feelings with them is the absolutely last person I could share my particular dilemma with.

"No, no, my mood need not concern you any longer. I must apologize, Hermione, for letting it spoil your lesson."

Hermione beamed at him. "Well, it was not a complete waste of time, at least to me," she said. "Can we try this potion again at next Thursday's lesson?"

"I say that would be advisable," Snape said with a polite nod. "Then I shall see you tomorrow to begin brewing the fire-immunity potions?"

Hermione nodded.

Severus moved toward the door, glancing back at her. "Have a good evening then."

"And you do the same."