Picking Up the Pieces

by Taelr

The War is over. Hermione has returned to Hogwarts to help with its restoration. But she ends up staying at the school under much different circumstances, which bring her to care for a man whom she has defended, despised, and revered through her years as a student. It's not long before she realizes her true feelings for him. But can he love her and let go of the one he loved first?

10. Saint Mungo's

Hermione bit her lip as she sat down, glancing beside her at Severus, who was the same potions master she'd once seen when she was in school. She smiled wryly down at her empty plate and began serving herself when food appeared on the table. It was mid-August, and the past three months had been the most strenuous and exhausting she'd ever experienced. Severus was now almost completely recovered. He was living alone in his bedroom again, and Hermione was sleeping in her room and doing other things than watching over him every day. He walked on his own up to the Great Hall for meals and moved from place to place within the castle as he liked and as he once had, though he still spent much time down in his office and in the potions classroom.

It had been a long three months and his recovery had come slowly, which had caused him to be furious and frustrated with himself. His mood swings had become terrible and almost unbearable, but now those were gone and Hermione didn't have to deal with them anymore. Things were as they should be, and she was with Severus and all of the other members of the staff at the table in the Great Hall. The school was now completely restored, and Hermione had been able to participate in the last bit of work after Severus was no longer on the mend. He hadn't alienated her yet, which she found to be a pleasant surprise. Of course, she didn't spend much time with or around him anymore now that she was no longer his nurse and caretaker, but he didn't go out of his way to ignore or avoid her and she was relieved that there was no awkwardness between them. She had become accustomed to his presence after so long spent with him every day, and was now undoing that bit by bit and day by day, getting used to living alone and in her own bedroom again.

Now she had the time to visit her new office and her classroom, and she immensely enjoyed setting up the office and walking around the classroom where she had once learned and would now be teaching. It was fresh and exciting and she was anticipating the first day of term. She had been writing to and receiving regular letters from Harry, who told her all the details of his and Ron's Dementor hunts. Neville had joined them and made it a trio just the beginning of that month and it sounded as if Harry and Ron were rather enjoying his company. Harry didn't say all that much about Ron, but he hinted subtly that the freckled, red-haired boy was missing Hermione and would probably try to make up when he saw her again. Hermione didn't mind the idea of making up, but she didn't want to be more than friends.

She had been studying transfiguration again and was realizing that though she did still love Ron as a friend, they had grown apart and he was, at the present, not the kind of person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She decided that if she did get married or find someone, then he had to be witty and smart and enjoy reading the way that she did. She needed someone who was very alike to her and wasn't holding her back, and looking back, she felt that Ron had somewhat altered her by making her a bit more carefree. While that was nice at times, she wanted to go back to being the Hermione Granger who had first stepped into Hogwarts almost seven years before; intelligent and a bit of a nerd and living in a world where books held all the answers. Of course she could be a bit more open-minded than she had been in the past, but she figured teaching would help her hold both of those things.

Things had settled down since the repairs to the school were finished. The Ministry witches and wizards had left, Kingsley had come and been given a tour by McGonagall and Flitwick, and several of the other teachers had returned from their summer holidays to prepare for the beginning of school. Professor Sprout, Professor Trelawney, and Filch were only a few of the group. Hermione was happy to see them and they were extremely pleased to find that she had taken the job of transfiguration teacher. As soon as they saw her they were saying things like, "I always knew you were going to do something great for Hogwarts as a teacher someday," and, "Oh, dear, it's so wonderful to have you back with us! My favorite student, back as a colleague!"

Comments such as these were still ringing in her ears as she walked towards the teachers' lounge with the majority of other staff members. It wasn't really very late but now that dinner was over, unless they had something specific to do they were headed towards their own rooms. Hermione entered the lounge after everyone else and watched as Sprout and Flitwick sat down in two of the chairs and began discussing something. The rest of the staff dispersed and disappeared into their quarters, and Hermione walked towards her own door. She turned when the lounge door opened again and glanced over her shoulder to see who it was. The black cloak and robes billowed darkly behind Severus and then he was gone behind the door with the doe carved in its front. Turning back to her door and wondering why she had even turned to watch Severus as he passed, she stepped into her own rooms and went to sit on the couch in the study.

As soon as she had sat Crookshanks jumped onto her lap and curled up, rubbing his head against her arm and purring when she petted him absentmindedly. She had glanced to the corner of the room where the desk stood, and noticed that her book bag was on the floor beside it, leaning against the dark wood. It was the book bag that she had used throughout her school years to haul her own personal library from class to class and then from the library back to her own dormitory or the Gryffindor common room. But her school memories weren't the ones that surfaced when she looked at the book bag. Instead she found herself remembering sitting beside Severus' bed and reading to herself while he ranted about being unable to do as he liked, and before that, when she had read him muggle fairytales and he had actually listened.

But the most detailed, sharpest memory was of her sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over him with a wet cloth in hand, bathing his fevered skin and crying. And then there had been whispered apologies that she could only assume had come from her own lips and suddenly she found herself closing her eyes and reliving the memory; leaning back off of the bed and setting the cloth on the bedside table as she sat back in her chair. Staring at Severus—Snape, as she had thought of him then—in the golden half-glow that was coming from the floating orbs on the ceiling. Looking down at her book bag and wondering how many times she'd read through every book within and found herself not absorbing a single word.

And then she opened her eyes and she was back in her own study, not in Severus' room. He had recovered and was living without assistance and she was back in her own rooms. Shaking her head to clear it, she scratched Crookshanks behind the ears and stared at the fire in the hearth. She didn't know how long she sat there, lost in her thoughts, before she picked up the cat and walked, half asleep, to her bed. There she curled up under the sheets and blankets and didn't bother to close the curtains around the bed. Crookshanks curled up against her back, though she was sleeping on her side tonight, and both of them slept soundly until morning.

The next day at breakfast Hermione noticed Severus' absence from the table, and wondered where he must be and why he was missing the meal. Her attention was diverted when several owls flew in and circled the table as usual, but two of them landed in front of her rather than only one. Hedwig was there, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet and looking like she was ready to fly again. And then there was a small owl that was running in circles around her cup of pumpkin juice and twittering madly. Hermione was shocked; she hadn't seen Pigwidgeon in months. She untied the envelope from Hedwig's leg and offered her a piece of her muffin and the bird nibbled at it before taking flight. Pigwidgeon was still running around, and Hermione had to catch him and hold him still with one hand while untying the envelope with the other. The envelope itself was the size of the owl, and she wondered how he had possibly gotten to Hogwarts with it.

As soon as it was free, she let him go and he fluttered into the air and away. Hermione watched him go and then looked down at the two envelopes. She opened Harry's and it was short but informative, and she always loved hearing from him. She made a mental note to write him back later that day and folded the parchment, placing it back in the envelope, which she tucked inside of her robes. Then she looked at Ron's envelope. She had the fleeting mental image of the time Ron had received a howler from his mother after he and Harry had driven Arthur Weasley's flying car to Hogwarts and crashed into the Whomping Willow on the grounds. The stunt had earned them quite a bit of trouble with the staff and plenty of fame among the students.

She picked up the envelope and opened it, unfolding the parchment and beginning to read. She hadn't gotten far when she began to blink rapidly, though no one else at the table took notice. Tears began welling up in her eyes and she blinked even more than before, wiping away the liquid that was slipping out of her eyes. She rose from her seat, though she had eaten nothing, and wiped her tears, turning to McGonagall, who was seated on her left, and saying, "Excuse me," before turning her back on the table. She walked quickly but with composure until she was out of the Great Hall. Once she had turned the corner, she began to run and let the tears fall down her cheeks. She hadn't even finished reading Ron's letter and here she was, crying and running blindly, trusting her feet to take her where she wanted to go as she fled towards her room.

Her sobs and faltering, loud breaths bounced and echoed off the walls and through the corridors, but she didn't care; no one in the Great Hall could hear her from this far away. She turned a corner and kept her head bent, still crying and still running when she collided with something large and dark. And hard. She would have fallen backwards from the impact but whoever she had collided with acted quickly and reached out, grabbing her before she could fall. His or her force when they grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back towards them was too much and she ended up colliding with them again, though this time much more gently. Sniffing as she wiped away her tears, she leaned back and looked up. She took two very surprised steps back when she found herself looking up at Severus.

He looked just as surprised as she was, though a frown creased his brow. His eyes flicked down at Hermione's hand, where Ron's letter was being crushed into a crumpled ball beneath her clenched fingers. "I- I'm sorry, Sir," Hermione stammered, having not expected to meet anyone on her way to her rooms, let alone run directly into them. She was afraid he'd be terribly angry for a moment, and then realized that she was a staff member and he couldn't put her in detention. She almost laughed out loud at the thought and caught herself just in time. Her emotions were all over the place after reading Ron's letter, and she couldn't trust herself for fear of doing something stupid and on impulse because of it.

"It is," he looked over her, and she was sure she must be quite a sight as a result of her headlong dash from the Great Hall and her tears, "no matter," he continued, "as it seems you were in a hurry for most"—he paused and his eyes fell again on Ron's letter—"urgent and unusual . . . but valid . . . reasons."

Sniffing again, Hermione nodded once and then made her way past him, circling around him and facing him because he was still watching her. "Th- thank you, Sir," she said as she did.

Once she had turned away he too began to walk away and he said over his shoulder, "Hmm, as I said, no matter. And I believe I told you to call me Severus."

Hermione stopped, shocked, and turned, but he continued to walk away, cloak billowing darkly behind him. She made it to her rooms a few moments later and sank down on the edge of her bed, Ron's letter momentarily forgotten. There in the corridor was the closest she'd been to Severus since he was under her care, and it had brought her to remember another detail from her memories of caring for him that she seemed to have completely forgotten; his scent.

Even after being on the floor of the shrieking shack and then in Saint Mungo's for as long as he had, when he'd come to Hogwarts he still smelled lightly of herbs and ingredients, of potions. Now that smell on him was much stronger, as he'd been around his classroom and office and had been brewing potions since he was recovered. But there had been a stronger smell when he was under her care and she was so close to him then, and it was still there now; a scent all his own. If people had their own personal scents, then this would be his.

Though it was mostly masked by the potion and spice smell about him when Hermione had collided with him, she had caught it and it had unlocked, in every memory of nursing him, the detail of what he had smelled like. In his own rooms all those weeks, the potion smell still clung to him faintly, but his own smell had been there all along. Hermione realized that at the times when she was leaning over Severus to bathe or feed him, she had much more important things on her mind than what he smelled like. But now, looking back and remembering, his smell had been one of the biggest things she'd grown accustomed to while staying by his side night and day.

She rather liked the way Severus smelled; not just his own smell, but the potion ingredients as well. She thought it strange, how she'd become so used to something she hadn't even really been aware of. And now she found herself missing it, longing for it even. The image of her burying her nose in his cloak or something that smelled like him burned momentarily in her mind, but she forced it away quickly and blinked, shaking her head as she tried to clear it. What was she doing, daydreaming about smelling the potions master's cloak?

For the first time since she'd run into Snape, she remembered why she'd come back to her own quarters without eating in the first place. She smoothed Ron's crushed and crumpled note and reread what she already had before going on. This time she was able to read it all of the way through without a single sniff or tear. But what she was reading was more insane than anything. Ron had written an entire page, the most Hermione had ever known him to write that wasn't homework. The first bit hadn't been unnecessarily unkind, but compared to the rest it was like a proclamation of undying love; the rest of the page explained that he hadn't told Harry, but had visited Lavender Brown the week before and found his love for her rekindled. He then said that he'd asked her to marry him and that the wedding would be the following summer. Also, Hermione wasn't invited to come, though all of her friends, including Harry, were. There were plenty of unkind comments and childishly cruel references and allusions to some of her past mistakes or failures, but surprisingly, she found them quite funny.

She laughed out loud. This was absurd. Ron couldn't just up and marry Lavender! It just didn't seem like it would work. Hermione knew he had done it to make her jealous and miserable but she was neither. Instead she sincerely felt sorry for lavender and hoped that perhaps Ron had moved on and really did like Lavender and wasn't using her. If he was just using her Hermione hoped that Lavender would see what was happening and stop it before the wedding, at best even before they had announced the "happy" news.

Shaking her head, she crumpled the note again and threw it at the wall, sighing and rolling her eyes at the antics of teenage boys when they thought they could make a girl jealous. She had seen Harry at it during their school years, and now here Ron was, trying his hand at it as well though it was definitely not working. Crookshanks jumped up onto the bed beside her and walked around her, rubbing against her as he did. She laughed and looked down at him. "Men," she said and shook her head at the cat. He jumped off the bed, apparently offended by her remark, but she found his behavior more amusing than anything else.

She went and answered the door when there was a knock. It was the headmistress, and she looked Hermione up and down as soon as the door was open. "May I come in?"

Hermione nodded and held the door wide open to let her in. She realized that she hadn't yet made it to the bathroom to fix herself and she was probably not looking much better than when she'd been sobbing and running down corridors and halls. The older witch looked concerned. "Are you quite alright? You left the Great Hall without eating anything and in a great hurry."

Hermione shrugged and walked over to the wall, picking up the crumpled piece of parchment and holding it out to the headmistress. "Here," she said, "It's from Ron."

Understanding and caution dawned on the older woman's face and she took the note, smoothing it as Hermione had done and reading it twice before looking up at Hermione with her eyebrows raised. Hermione shrugged again. "We had a row the day he and Harry showed up here when Severus was dying." She ignored the thoughts of the potions master's smell that rose in her mind and pushed them away, continuing, "We ended it and he left in a real huff. Now he's trying to have his revenge and make me jealous."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose even higher. "And is his plan working?"

Hermione laughed. A smile actually lit on her face. "No, I actually find it quite the joke to laugh at." Seeing the skeptical look on McGonagall's face, she added, "I was a bit shocked at the table earlier and needed some time to read the rest of it and think it over. Now I'm just fine, only worried about Lavender."

The headmistress smiled and said, "She might not have been as bright as you in school but my guess is that she'll figure out his true intentions without trouble and before much time has passed."

Hermione nodded. Then the headmistress smiled and said, "Men and the things they'll do when it comes to women."

They laughed again and Hermione shook her head in agreement. Then McGonagall turned to the door and said, "Well, I was just concerned about your wellbeing. Seeing that you are fine, I'll go and tell Pomona; she is quite worried about you."

Hermione nodded and smiled, and after the headmistress had left she shook her head and looked towards Crookshanks, who appeared to have forgiven her. "One little thing and they think I'm going to die. And after all I've been through? A war, friends dying, my best friend defeating the most dangerous dark wizard ever to live, and then the life of the man I saved being threatened. And they think that something like this can seriously hurt me?"

The cat meowed in agreement and Hermione went to sit on the couch with him. She brought her notes on transfiguration and went over them again as she petted Crookshanks. She turned the page and a piece of parchment fell out. She picked it up and looked over it. It was her notes from the days when Severus had lectured her on potions while he was still too weak to feed himself and lying in bed all day and all night. She shook her head as she read her notes, scribbled quickly to keep up with his words, but still kept neat as she had always made sure to do. At the thought of the potions master, she thought of his smell again and stared at the page, though it was more as if she were staring through it because her eyes became unfocused and she was seeing things that weren't there in the room with her.

Forcing herself to snap out of it, she stood up, and the cat—which had been sleeping—yowled as he was thrown off of her lap. She set her notes back in the book bag and was sure to direct her thoughts elsewhere as she did, but the faintest image of the bag resting under Severus' bedside table still burned in her mind's eye. Blowing her hair out of her face—it had come lose from where she had tied it back—she went and brought the small shoebox full of treasures out from under it. She opened it and looked through the many tiny trinkets, each of which held some special memory for her. It was like reliving different parts of her life as she looked through them. That made her think of her parents, and she stood, placing the box back under the bed, and snatched her wand from the bedside table before she left her room.

Moments later she was talking to McGonagall in the headmistress' office. "Would it be alright for me to visit my parents today?"

The headmistress turned and looked to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, who looked pleased with Hermione's request. "Albus?" she asked.

The Albus within the frame turned his brilliant, penetrating blue eyes on Hermione and she looked at him hopefully. "Having heard your plans for the day and for the staff, Minerva," he said without turning to look at the headmistress, "I think it would be wise for Hermione to visit her parents before school starts."

"Of course," McGonagall said. She nodded to Hermione and said, "You may go whenever you like."

"Now?" Hermione asked, and the headmistress nodded again. Before she left the office, she glanced at Dumbledore again and thought she saw him flash a quick, knowing smile her way, though she got the distinct feeling that he wasn't smiling about her visiting her parents. She wondered what he had smiled about, and turned away quickly when she felt color creeping into her cheeks as Severus' scent surfaced in her mind again.

With that, Hermione left the office and walked quickly to the entrance hall, through the courtyard and across the grounds until she reached the boundary point. Turning in place, she apparated to the place just outside the entrance to Saint Mungo's. She walked to the wing where her parents were, and stopped when she saw Neville's parents. She entered the room and stood between their beds, and they looked at her and smiled. "I don't think you can understand me," she said slowly and quietly, "But it's because of your son that Harry could kill the dark lord. Your son—Neville—he saved us all. He's the reason I'm alive."

They kept smiling at her, but she had the slightest impression of understanding in their eyes. "Hermione?" a familiar voice called from right behind her. It was the second time she'd run into Neville in this wing of the hospital. She turned around and looked at him. "Yes?"

"What're you doing?" his question was voiced kindly, but it was obvious he was a bit confused.

Hermione looked at him and said quietly, "Thanking them and telling them that they should be proud."

He didn't have to ask why they should be proud, but his eyes began to water. "You talked to them . . . like they could understand?"

Hermione nodded slowly, not understanding why he was tearing up as he asked. She was afraid for a moment that she'd offended him, but then a smile lit up his face and he let the tears fall over his cheeks. "Neville?" she asked, worried.

He shook his head, still smiling. "No one does that but me. Even Gran . . . she thinks they don't understand, see? And I always wanted to talk to them but I never could when Gran was around because she'd scold me for it. Now she's not here, and whenever I come, I talk to them."

Now Hermione's eyes were brimming with tears, too. It got worse when he asked, "Did they respond?"

She didn't have to ask what he meant; she knew he wasn't talking about them using words to communicate. She nodded, alluding to the understanding looks in their eyes, and he wiped his tears away and sniffed. "Thanks," he said. Hermione nodded and gave him a small smile before she walked over to where her parents were. They smiled at her, much as Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom had, and she found it in herself to smile back. She wiped away the moisture that had overflowed from her eyes, for the first time not brought to tears by the thought of talking to her parents and them not understanding. Neville had made it clear and brought about the realization that they could indeed understand, and were listening even now. Even if they didn't comprehend the meaning of the words she used, they would understand by her body language and the tone of voice when she spoke.

She sat down on the edge of her mum's bed and reached out to hold the hand of the woman who had raised her. "Hey, Mum," she said, smiling again. She could have sworn there was a greeting smiling back at her in her mother's kind eyes. She talked to her Mum specifically for a while, and then moved to her father's bed. She greeted him the same way, and just like her mother, she knew he was saying hello right back. When she had talked to him for a while she stood between their two beds and talked to them both for quite a while, telling them everything that had happened since she used the memory charm on them and they had moved. She did leave parts out—mostly those about Severus that she felt were personal—but gave them almost a completely honest report.

On the other side of the large room, Neville was talking animatedly to his parents about his job as an auror and what it was like being with Harry and Ron. Hermione stopped talking eventually, and just watched her parents as they gazed around the room, seemingly amazed by each thing they saw. And for the first time, she tried to see things the way that they did. Suddenly, every tiny detail of the room seemed fascinating and beautiful, and everything was so amazing and uncomprehendingly complex.

She didn't leave her parents until it was dark outside of the magical windows and the clock said it was after six o'clock. A healer came in and told her and Neville that it was time to leave, and they walked out of the ward together. He walked with her to the door, and asked, "Did McGonagall tell you that I'll be coming to Hogwarts to work as Sprout's apprentice for this school year before I take over next year?"

Hermione couldn't remember whether the headmistress had mentioned it or not; so many things had happened since she first got to Hogwarts and everything with Snape seemed to be contained in his room, as if none of the news from the outside world had made it inside or to Hermione. "I don't think she did tell me. Neville, that's great!" and she hugged him.

He blushed and asked, "Can I tell you something I never told anyone?"

Hermione looked at him. "That's up to you, but I promise I won't tell a soul if you don't want me to."

He smiled and said, "I trust you. But please don't tell anyone?"

She nodded.

He continued, "I think I've liked Luna since our third year at Hogwarts, and I think maybe it's time I asked her out?"

Hermione couldn't hold it in; she clapped her hands together and grinned at him. "Oh, yes! I think she's been waiting for you to do that for a while."

His face lit up with surprised pleasure as they stepped out onto the muggle street. "She has?"

Hermione nodded. "I have to go, or I'll be late for dinner"—she was just realizing she hadn't eaten at all that day—"but good luck with Luna! I'm sure she'll be delighted to accept!" and she turned, disapparating back to the school. She caught sight of his boyish, grinning face before everything went black, and then she was back on solid ground, just outside of the school grounds. Smiling as she walked back to the castle, she made it to the Great Hall just in time to see the food appearing on the table. She sat down and answered the few questions about visiting her parents, and mentioned that she'd seen Neville. At this, Pomona's eyes lit up and she asked, "Did he give you the news?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. He had given her more news than just his taking an apprenticeship at Hogwarts, and it was almost too much happiness for her to handle. As she ate, enjoying every bite of food, she couldn't believe that only that morning she'd run away from breakfast crying, while at the moment she could barely contain the giggle and childish grin that kept trying to creep onto her face.

She glimpsed Severus out of the corner of her eye, and he seemed to have caught on to the half-smile that was messing with her lips. She felt her cheeks flush and turned back to her food, not wanting him to see, though she knew he wouldn't know that her thoughts had drifted back to what he smelled like. Without meaning to, she found herself leaning her head on her hand with her elbow on the table as she sipped her pumpkin juice. She was leaning to the side, just a bit towards Severus, and when she inhaled after swallowing her juice she was convinced that she'd actually caught just a hint of his scent. Satisfied, even if she was just imagining things, she sat up straight again and finished eating with everyone else.

As the night before, the staff members left the table and headed for the teachers' lounge as a group, the majority of them leaving while only a few stayed to talk. Hermione walked a bit behind the group, occupied once more by thoughts of Neville. She caught the sight of billowing black fabric and looked up, realizing that she was walking not far behind Severus and Filius, who were deep in conversation over something or another. Hermione didn't hear anything they said, though, because she realized the reason she had subconsciously moved to walk behind Severus'. Just a teasing bit of his smell seemed to trail behind him momentarily before dispersing in the air, but she was close enough to catch his scent before it vanished while still far enough behind that no one would suspect anything, especially since she had her head down and appeared to be thinking.

She followed the others into the lounge and went to her door, once again watching Severus disappear into his own rooms. She walked to her bathroom, sighing. It wasn't the man she wanted, it was his smell. What a strange, absurd thought. Shaking her head and laughing at herself as she sank into the bathtub full of steaming water, she leaned back and let her thoughts settle, thinking of nothing and making sure to avoid further thought about Severus and the way he smelled.

She watched the steam swirling above her and as she had months before, she tried to find shapes and recognizable things in the silvery mist above her. She remembered the night that she had done this for the first time, and allowed herself to relive the memory of seeing Severus' silver doe as it bounded around the bathroom and in and out of the mist. Then she remembered coming to her senses and jumping out of the hot water, throwing on her clothes, and flying towards Severus' rooms. Clearing her mind of what that had led to because she knew which detail of the memories would quickly come to mind, she tried to find more shapes in the steam that was thickening in the air and making it hard to breathe.

She found an otter, and a stag, and Aberforth's goat even seemed to be running around. Then another silvery doe appeared, though she was sure that this one was only made of steam. And after the goat she saw Mrs. Weasley's weasel, Cho's swan, and several others. There were other shapes in the steam that weren't her friend's patronuses, too; she spotted what looked like a centaur, and then a dragon. Closing her eyes and blocking out the ever-changing shapes above and around her, she settled back on the water and thought over her talk with her parents. Yet again, she was very grateful to have Neville as a friend. She wondered when he would see Luna again and whether he'd have the courage to ask her then or he'd have to see her several times before he was able to do it. She thought of Harry and Ron, and remembered that she needed to write Harry back.

Deciding to do it in the morning, she climbed out of the bathtub and dried off, brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas before she brushed her hair. She waved her wand from her bedroom and all of the orbs stopped giving light, though the fire still burned low. Then she let Crookshanks jump into the bed and drew the curtains around it. Curling up, she rested her fingers in the cat's long fur and fell asleep.

Her dreams were strange, and while she didn't recognize where she was most of the time, she was constantly enticed by the trace of a particular smell, and she was always searching, always trying to follow the trace to its source. She was running through some unfamiliar hallway when she sat up in bed and woke up. What could you call that? A nightmare? Or just a strange dream? Rubbing her eyes and hoping she wouldn't go back to wherever she'd been in her sleep, she lay down again and closed her eyes, drifting off once more.

Twice more she dreamed of strange places and the enticing smell, though in her dreams she never knew the source of the smell, only that she desperately needed to have whatever it came from close to her. Always when she woke she would know that it was Severus' scent and scold herself, though she had no control over her dreams. The third time she laid back down and fell asleep, it was for good and she didn't wake until morning. But while it was a peaceful dream, she woke up with her face pressed into her pillow and was haunted by the last image from her nightly-imaginings for the rest of the day; she'd had her face pressed into Severus' shirt, against his shoulder or his chest.

Blinking in the dim light that made it through the curtains around the bed, she asked herself how a dream could have felt so real and how she could possibly have enjoyed it so much. Now she was just frightened by the idea. But she'd never actually pressed her face against his chest or his shoulder, had she? Thinking back, she realized that she'd had her face against his chest for a split-second the day before when they collided and then for a few seconds longer when he pulled her back to keep her from falling backwards and hitting the ground. Had her mind memorized those few seconds and managed to make them into several hours of continuous imagining that she was in Severus' arms, and all while she was sleeping? Shaking her head and sighing deeply, Hermione promised herself that she would forget the dream and never think about it again; it was too disturbing.

Nodding to herself silently, she fell back onto her pillow and pulled the blankets over her head, closing her eyes and just lying there for a few minutes. She tried not to think about the dream, but it was there, in the back of her mind, and she was aware of it, but could only push it away and was unable to banish it completely.

Hey all, thanks for reading! Please review if you have a moment or two! Also, for those of you who were wondering, this is the first time I have posted this story and am writing it as I go. If you saw a similar summary somewhere else on this sight then what can I say? Great minds think alike! But someone else wrote that story, not me! This is my first Snamione/Sevmione but so far you guys seem to like it! Thank you all once again for reading and sticking with me on this journey! I love you all! ~Taelr