AN: thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I had thought to write the last chapter off as a bad day, but it seems you disagree...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise... I just borrowed it for a while for the amusement value...

Chapter Five

Severus stood just outside the gates of Hogwarts, staring through the bars at the sunlit castle, seemingly so distant on its hill overlooking the world. He had left as soon as he had been well enough to discharge himself from Poppy's care and had not returned. That had been almost four years ago. Now it seemed the windows stared back at him like so many accusing eyes, and of course the astronomy tower, the setting for so many of his nightmares, loomed over it all.

He took a deep breath and placed his hand against the cool metal of the gate, he had not planned on coming back here, the scene of so many crimes. He had been surprised when Minerva had insisted that he come to the castle to brew, but then again, he supposed that some of the potions were too delicate to be apparated, floo-ed, or even entrusted to owl transport. At least Minerva had succeeded in securing for him an assistant to handle the more basic tasks, and therefore decreasing the length of time he had to endure being here, once again amongst the roving ghosts of his own mind.

Dumbledore had once told him that only in ourselves do we have the power to stop our fears from controlling us. He was right, and Severus had vowed never to be controlled by anyone or anything but himself ever again. It was this thought that caused him to square his shoulders and push on boldly through the gates. It was this thought that sustained him all the way up the path, eyes averted from the high tower, and finally through the great front doors into the entrance hall. Once he was inside, he felt somewhat easier about being here. Perhaps it was simply that it was impossible to deny the warm, homely atmosphere of the castle, even now, in the middle of the summer break. Minerva had assured him that his usual brewing dungeon would be all set up and waiting for him, so it away from the Great Hall that he turned, moving past another door and off along the winding stone passages.

The further into the darkness he travelled, the more at home he felt. It was strange really, it had been in these dungeons that he had been his most isolated, here amongst these stones that he had been bullied by the Gryffindors, tormented by the Slytherins, and mocked by the Ravenclaws. Even the Hufflepuffs aloof indifference had bitten deep into his soul. At the same time, however, it was here in these frigid cellars that he had been able to prove himself; it was these very rooms that had provided him with the solitude he craved when, assaulted and wounded almost to death, he had returned from many an encounter with the Dark Lord. It was these cauldrons full of shimmering potions that had given him his greatest comfort at a time when he had thought his very heart should stop working from the pain. Here, he was truly home.

His hand brushed against the hard wood of a familiar door. He pushed it open and entered his old work space, of course, it had never been so easily accessible in his days, but the room looked as if he had only stepped out for a few moments. The cauldrons stood on their stands, ready and waiting. The tables were all scrubbed, and topped with the correct jars and packets. Even the book cases still held the battered collection of texts that he had never reclaimed after his departure. He heaved a contented sigh; despite everything that had passed inside these walls, it was good to be back.

To work. He shrugged off his heavy outer robe and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, leaving him in plain white shirt sleeves, which he rolled back, once the fires were lit and the potions simmering the room would be too hot, and he despised having to pause in his work over such silly things. He pulled a band form his pocket and used it to secure his hair back, out of his face. A list of the required potions stood on the table beside the ingredients; he gave it a cursory glance. Best start with the blood replenishing potion; that needed to stand for the longest. Severus pulled the first of the ingredients towards him – leeches. Reaching for the sharp knife he had spied, he began to slice them vertically, careful to keep all the fluid leaking from them on the chopping board. He had almost completed his task when the door opened once more. Had he not been half expecting someone to join him, it might have made him jump. He turned to acknowledge the new comer, thinking that it must be this assistant that Minerva had told him of.

Hermione pushed open the door to the lab. She had been in here earlier to set out all of the ingredients they would need, wanting to be as prepared as possible for when Severus arrived. Minerva had openly informed her that she was to be working as Severus' assistant, and so Hermione had made it so that he would have as few reasons to send her from the room as possible. She had assumed that Minerva had also told Severus that she would be his assistant and she had been surprised that he seemed to have agreed to this. Now she was stood facing him, however, she thought that perhaps Minerva might have... forgotten to mention it.

As their eyes met across the room, Hermione suddenly felt the rush of fear that comes from facing an angry ex-Death Eater holding a very sharp knife. Courage, Hermione, Gryffindor courage. "I see you've made a start without me." She was quite proud of how level her voice sounded.

"Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no." He slammed the knife down onto the table. "Tell me that Minerva has not hired you as my assistant." She stepped a little further into the room, rolling up her sleeves as she went, confirming his worst suspicions. Immediately he stalked past her and out of the room. He would explain to Minerva that he could not work with Hermione Granger. She was a sensible woman, she knew the situation, she would understand. She knew the situation. Severus stopped mid stride in the middle of the deserted corridor. He had been set up. Minerva McGonagall had knowingly invited both of them of them here without telling him, and perhaps not telling Hermione, of her pans. He couldn't decide if he was more stunned or outraged. How had she managed to get this past him? He must be out of practice after all; he should have seen it coming.

He spun round and marched back through the door he had just exited. He took up his knife once more and finished slicing the leeches, it helped him think. He was going to pay Minerva back for this. He was going to ignore Hermione who stood watching him as if concerned for his sanity. She had guessed he had stormed out to go berate Minerva, but he had barely been gone thirty seconds when he was storming back in again. "Umm..."

Severus spun round, knife still in hand. "You have agreed with Minerva that you will be my assistant, I presume?" he shot at her vehemently.

"Yes, but-"

"Then, as my assistant you will comply with the following rules. You will follow any and all instructions I give you precisely and immediately. You will not deviate from those instructions. You will not do anything that I have not specifically told you to do. You will not speak unless I directly address you. Do you understand?" Hermione eyed the knife he had been gesticulating with nervously. She nodded. "Good. You can prepare the burn salve, I trust that is not too advanced for you?" she wasn't even going to dignify his jabs at her talent, she told herself, as she confidently rounded the table to collect the necessary ingredients.

Silence is good, Severus told himself, silence made it easy for him to concentrate. She had, he grudgingly admitted, always been good at potions; she had to be to keep Longbottom in one piece. She was certainly capable of being his assistant for this short time. He doubted it would take much more than a month to brew all the necessary potions if they used their time effectively and worked hard. He chanced a glance up at her; she was diligently chopping her roots. Good. It was good that there was now no need to talk.

Hermione felt his eyes on her and looked up, was she doing something wrong? No. She knew what she was doing; she had made all these potions and more for when herself and The Boys (as she affectionately thought of them) had been on their hunt for horcruxes. Recognising that she wasn't 'allowed' to talk she raised a questioning eyebrow and made a slight shrugging gesture with her hands, clearly 'what?' She was pleased to note that he quickly looked back at his own chopping board. Maybe this wouldn't be as boring as she thought.

The moments dragged into hours as they worked in absolute silence, Hermione covertly watching Severus as he chopped, sliced, squished and stirred. She was fascinated by the utterly calm confident way his hands seemed to work independently of each other. He could stir the bubbling mixture in his cauldron with one hand and yet be chopping away with his usual dexterity and precision with the other. It occurred to her then that she had never actually seen him brew anything before, of course she knew he did brew, it was kind of a given, but to actually see him working with her own eyes she felt very... privileged, as if she was witnessing something special and secret.

Hauling her attention back to her own concoction she realised that she needed to use the scales. The scales were on his side of the table, it was the prefect opportunity. She contemplated for a brief moment how best to achieve her goal. Slowly, carefully, she reached across the table, moving swiftly enough not to look as if she were feeling guilty about her actions she 'accidentally' knocked his hand just before she grasped the scales. Just as she had intended, the knife moved just a fraction off course, not enough to ruin the perfect batch of leaves he had been shredding, but enough to make him put the knife down and glare at her. "What do you think you are doing?" he growled. It had worked; he had addressed her, she could speak.

"I was getting the scales, Severus, I would have asked you to pass me them, but being as I'm not allowed to speak..." She forced her face into a look of complete innocence.

"Don't be obstinate." He told her through gritted teeth, "And I know for a fact that I have never invited you to use my first name when addressing me." He went back to his exact shredding of his leaves.

Hermione waited just long enough for him to have settled back into his slicing, "what do you propose I call you then? You're not my professor, so I don't see the reason to call you that; I definitely think we've gone past the point where I can just call you Snape. I suppose I could call you Sir, if you like, or Master, but, being as we're engaged, people might think it's some sort of kinky-"

"Shut up, Miss Granger, and get on with your salve." Hermione tried not to smile at what she was certain was a faint blush creeping across the very tips of his ears.

Hermione continued with her salve, constantly alert for more opportunities to force Severus to directly address her, giving her the opportunity to attempt conversation. Much to her disappointment it seemed that he was not to be fooled by the same trick twice. He was being exceptionally careful to put the scales and any knives that she might need to use back in the centre of the table. She had almost completed the salve when she sparked upon another plan. Maybe she didn't need to force him to talk to her after all. Maybe, just maybe, if she just did exactly as he said, he'd lighten up a bit. Then again, this was Snape. Maybe she could just try it for a couple of days.

-#x#-

Severus walked into the lab bright and early on the twenty-second day of this farce. He was smiling, well, not smiling smiling, but not scowling, or glowering or anything negative, and in his mind he was positively beaming. It just so happened that Little Miss Know-It-All-Say-It-All could actually hold her tongue. This was a revelation the magnitude of which he had never believed he would live to see. What was even better was that she could actually help him make the potions at the same time as holding her tongue; she didn't need him to constantly correct her, she didn't even need him to instruct her, she would just do. After so many years of struggling against the tide of idiocy, it was like a breath of fresh air to Severus. To top it all off, he suspected that in another four or perhaps five days and they would be done and he would be free to go back to his plan of completing his research.

Over the last few weeks he felt that they had found a perfect working balance. They would enter, they would work together in a silent and seamless collaboration, and they would leave. They would accomplish their daily goals easily, sometimes surpassing them by a considerable margin. Even the silence had become less tense as their work had worn on, now it was almost, almost companionable.

Noting that Miss Granger was not already present (this was uncommon for her, but then he was half an hour early), Severus began removing the stasis charms they set upon the potions each night before retiring. By the time he had finished chopping up the next lot of ingredients headed for the pot, he was starting to feel something that may possible have been similar to concern at his lack of assistant. Not that he was actually concerned for her, if that's what the feeling even was, it was undoubtedly more that he was concerned that he... err... wouldn't finish up the potions as quickly working alone. Yes, that had to be it. He checked his watch; she had definitely never been this late before, though he had to acknowledge that they had never set a formal time to be here in the mornings. He shook it off. She was probably just suffering form 'women's problems' or some such silly excuse.

He had just about resigned himself to the fact that he was evidently alone from here on out when the door slammed open so hard it rebounded back off the wall with an almighty CRACK and then slammed itself shut. Ah, it appeared his assistant had made it in after all. Well, he was not going to ask why she was late, no sir, she was not going to offload her sentimental sob story onto him, whatever it might be. He tightened his lips, pressing them into a thin and very straight line as he continued his careful rhythmic stirring without looking up. He heard her slamming things down and stomping about, clearly something had her in a towering rage. Finally, when she banged down a jar of very valuable jellied amaranth with enough force to shatter the glass, he felt he must intervene.

"Fucking hell!" she ground out staring at the shards of glass now littering the workspace, the slimy shimmering red substance oozing gradually towards the edge.

"Is something the matter, Miss Granger?" He asked with as much disinterested neutrality as he could muster.

She sighed, flicked her wand at the mess with a little too much force and, rather than repairing the damage, sent the whole lot sailing across the room to splatter the opposite wall. Severus fought to keep his blank expression as she muttered a second oath and the mixture began to slink gloopily towards the floor with a slow sticky squelching noise.

"No." She told him defiantly. So, she wanted to play that game did she? Very well, he could do that.

"Then I will expect you to use more care from now on, any further damage will undoubtedly require you to reimburse the school. I might suggest that if you do decide to break things for entertainment that you select the ingredients that can be easier replaced. Or better yet, you could leave your juvenile rages to be conducted somewhere other than my lab." Hermione's head shot up as she thought she detected the barest hint of suppressed laughter in his voice, but his face was as impassive as ever. Maybe he was laughing at her, she thought gloomily, after all, she had just all but thrown a toddler tantrum and then, to further her impression of a misbehaving child, had sulkily denied there was a reason. Her temper flared once again. She was not a child and damn it, she refused to be treated like one any more.

"If you think I'm so immature and irresponsible, then perhaps I shouldn't be working in a lab at all. After all, it only takes a second of distractions to cause a catastrophe. That wouldn't do, would it, to have all these potions ruined, and with it your precious reputation for perfection." Before she'd even thought her actions through, she had raised her wand and upended the nearest cauldron. Steaming purple liquid rapidly spread across the floor, dousing the flames beneath the remaining cauldrons. She was so surprised by her own actions that she failed to move herself out of its path and her ankles received a scolding soak. The mixture of half concocted muscle-rebuilding potion flooded into her sensible shoes, drenching her socks, her robes, the thin trousers she wore beneath them. Its heat made her skin burn and sear, and in turn they began to itch maddeningly.

In seconds Severus had crossed the room, carefully avoiding the spilled mixture himself. He banished the mixture that was on the floor but could work nothing on the amount that was steadily making its way up her legs with the aid of the fabric. "Idiot girl, take off your robes and anything else that has come into contact with the half-potion." he instructed her forcefully, adding, as he turned to the cupboards in search of his usual stock of emergency potions, "and for Merlin's sakes do not remove your gloves while you do it."

"I'm not taking off my robes and trousers in front of you!" she responded indignantly. Severus made a strange noise half way between an annoyed growl and an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Let it burn through your very skin and begin eating away at your muscles. What difference does it make to me?" He was glad to hear that his words affected her as with a muffled yelp he heard the hasty removal of the offending garments. When he turned back, his hand grasping the required bottle, however, he received something of a shock. Stood before him in only her thin pale blue blouse and her white knickers, he was mortified to find himself unable to withdraw his eyes from her long slender legs.

"Is the damage that bad?" she asked, thankfully misreading the expression that passed unthinking for a fleeting moment across Severus' face. He forced himself to meet her eyes. "You will heal. Sit on a stall." As soon as he had told her to do it he wished he hadn't. She had to bend just slightly to pull the stall out from beneath the work bench, causing the edge of the blouse to ride up a little and the somewhat lacy fabric of her underwear to stretch tightly across her buttocks.

Severus mentally slapped himself hard around the face on her behalf. This was no time to start ogling his student. Only, she isn't your student, a sly voice reminded him from somewhere in the very dark and distant recesses of his mind, no; she is, quite handily, your fiancée.

Your fiancée whom you never intend to marry. A slightly stronger voice reminded him, his logical mind fighting back.

That as maybe, surely a man can innocently look, if he has no intention to act. The sly voice returned, soothing, calming.

"Is something wrong?" She looked nervous now, perched on her stall, knees pressed together, hands subconsciously puling at the hem of her blouse, trying in vain to cover herself better, but only succeeding in pulling the fabric taught across her chest. He had been still too long, looking at her too long; he gave himself another mental slap. He was above this. He had proved to himself time and time again that he was above this.

"No. I was merely contemplating where best to begin the healing." He lied smoothly, if there was one thing Severus knew how to do, it was hide his true thoughts and lie. He sank down before her and carefully examined both her ankles in turn. It seemed the right had sustained more damage, she had probably had the left foot back slightly to help her maintain her balance, he analysed automatically. Her feet were tiny and so delicate he thought it a positive wonder they could be used for something as mundane as walking. Focus, please, Severus, healing the ankles, not wistfully worshipping the feet. He carefully coated his hands in the first of the batch of potions and began to massage it gently into her skin without a second thought.

Hermione yelped and shot off the stall so fast it was a wonder she managed to land upright. "What are you doing?" she gasped, pointing her wand at him. He looked shocked for a bare second, but his face quickly realigned itself into a familiar smirk and arched eyebrow.

"Cutting your foot off." The words positively dripped with sarcasm."I'm applying a balm. What did you think I was doing, you stupid girl?"

It was obvious, now he said it. He hadn't hurt her, it was just that she had been so surprised to feel his fingers touching her, almost caressing her skin, and without so much as a hint of warning. She did feel quite stupid as she said dumbly "oh, sorry."

He gestured impatiently for her to return to the stall, and, shaking his head and muttering something that ended in 'Dunderheads' he resumed his ministrations. Hermione didn't consider why he was applying the balm instead of giving it to her to apply; in fact, she didn't question anything at all as his dexterous fingers skated over her flesh, soothing the itching burn caused by the potion. During the summer following her fifth year, her mother had taken her to a spa for a girly pampering day. They had both enjoyed the luxurious massages and she had felt herself slipping into an almost dreamlike state of relaxation. Now, as his hands moved with confident skill over her injured skin, she had that feeling once again.

Something was trying to pull her off this blissful cloud of repose. It kept getting louder. "Miss Granger!" she suddenly became aware that she was sitting on a very hard stool on the middle of a very cold room with a very annoyed looking potions master before her. What had just happened? She thought back. She had burnt herself; he had been massaging some sort of ointment into her injuries. Please, if there was any god at all, don't let her have done anything as foolish as drift off into that calming bubble as she had in fifth year. Bugger. She tried to smile and say thank you in a polite voice but it just wasn't coming, her embarrassment seemed to be blocking off her vocal cords.

Thankfully, he once again took charge of the conversation. "You realise that your foolishness has set us back by two weeks?" he demanded. Suddenly she felt like a first year all over again. She hung her head, not meeting his eyes. She felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes. Not now, she told herself, don't cry now. He sighed dramatically. "Now, perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to the cause of your little fit of pique so that we might avoid a re-enactment at a later date?"

"I'm sorry, Professor." She told him in a small trembling voice, which only added to her embarrassment as well as the feeling of hot tears forming in her eyes.

Another dramatic sigh, "I suppose, given that you are no longer my student, and you have proved yourself reasonably capable of not wreaking complete havoc with a potion, you may, if it really means that much to you, call me Severus." His voice sounded a little softer than usual. She chanced a glance at his face and he added, much more briskly, "Do pull yourself together, woman. I refuse to have tears besmirching my lab and if you persist I shall be forced to withdraw my offer." What had he been thinking? He scolded himself mentally, What was this sudden need to clear up that tiny tremor in her voice that suggested she had lost all the confidence she had gained over the years?

Surprisingly, that helped, she felt the itchy tickle recede and nodded acknowledgement. "Thank you. Severus." She said his name as if testing it on her tongue.

"You've called me that before, why suddenly act as if it's the first time?" he said almost impatiently.

"Because, it is the first time. It's the first time I've used it knowing you aren't going to hex me into oblivion for my impertinence." She told him truthfully, a small smile playing about her lips.

"Bloody sentimental Gryffindor." He sighed, but without his usual level of malice. "Come on, we've got work to do."

-#x#-

Something had changed that day, Hermione realised. They no longer spent their working days in stony silence. While he in no way allowed idle chatter, Severus was at least now willing to have some form of conversation, admittedly usually a debate on which ingredients worked best for which types of potions, and the like. Occasionally, however, Hermione was able to glean some tiny scrap of little more personal information before he quickly recovered his guard and she felt the walls blocking her out once more. For example, she learned one afternoon that Severus preferred to harvest his own potions ingredients in person and without magic wherever possible. She also discovered, one morning shortly after, that he kept tabs on the work of a select handful of muggle chemists. Perhaps most shocking, however, was the moment she discovered that Severus had not only heard of, but could name and hum almost every song of, the muggle band Guns & Roses.

Over the next few weeks, as they worked to replace the potion she had spilled, as well as those she had unwittingly rendered useless by extinguishing the fire beneath them at a time when they needed to be kept at a constant temperature, Hermione found herself wishing that there was someway she could convince him not to disappear into the muggle world. She thought of none, however, none that could be used to convince him in such a short amount of time. She was almost grateful that it took longer than Severus had initially predicted to fully complete their work. But, as each day dawned, she would walk into the lab, bracing herself for the day when he would not appear, he day he had chosen to vanish forever to save himself from the fate of marrying her. To keep her mind busy, she continued to work, not daring to believe that he might perhaps stay.

Finally, the morning of the 28th August dawned, bright and clear. Hermione saw the gradual transformation of night to day through the window of the chamber she had been provided by Minerva. She had not slept; she had not been able to stop her mind from wondering which far flung corner of the Earth Severus had chosen for his sanctuary. Vowing that she would throw herself into completing the final potion, which, Severus had soundly assured her the previous evening, would only be two hours more. Hermione made her way down to the dungeons. She hadn't spoken of today's significance to Severus; she guessed he didn't need reminding. She wondered vaguely if he thought he was being kind in not mentioning his inevitable desertion. With a sigh she approached the door to the lab.

"Morning." She could just hear his now familiar greeting as her hand pushed against the wood. Oh, her imagination was playing cruel tricks indeed, for his voice had sounded so real to her ears. She moved into the room, once again reinforcing her vow.

"!" she had nearly jumped through the roof in shock when the room was not deserted. Her heart thumped as adrenaline coursed around her body. Severus looked at her wide eyed from his place by the cauldron, his hand stilled in the action of ladling its contents into the small glass bottles.

"Are you feeling alright, Hermione? You look like you've seen a ghost." His voice sounded genuinely concerned, but it could have been concern for her sanity.

"y-y-you're here." She stammered, not trusting her own eyes.

"yes." He said slowly, now he was definitely questioning her mental stability.

"b-b-b-but-" She was interrupted by Minerva coming through the door behind her, accompanied by an important looking man whose robes had the ministry crest emblazoned upon them.

"Hermione, this is Mr Winsdale, he'll be talking you through -" she caught sight of Severus and jumped, just as Hermione had done but without, he was grateful to note, the ear splitting shriek. Had he done the same as old Binns? Gotten up this morning and simply left his body behind him? He looked down just to check, no, he was definitely still alive and whole, so why where they staring at him like that? Come to think of it, what was a ministry official doing here a mere four days before the start of term? Four days before the start of term. That made today August 28th. Oh shit. How had he let this happen? Had he really been that into his potion making that he had forgotten the deadline for escape looming before him? It would appear so. Oh, double shit.

AN: I thought that'd be nice place to end the chapter... now, please don't shoot me, but I found out today that I'm going to be without computer access for a couple of days from tomorrow, so you might have to hang in there just a little longer than normal, but I promise the next chapter will be up by the end of Friday. In the meantime, feel free to let your mind speculate as to whether Severus can concoct some superbly Slytherin plot to save himself at the very last moment from being bound to Hermione. Hugs and cookies, ForeverPandora.