Severus and Hermione were ignoring each other whenever possible after their encounter in the dark corridor in the middle of the night.

Severus was furious that he, a master spy, could allow himself to be caught by an eighteen-year-old girl. And in spite of his anger that he directed towards her for his own irresponsible actions, the voice in the back of his head was crooning that she was now an adult in the wizarding world and the muggle world and not so young after all. He now had to deal with the urge to look at her whenever they met, not just at meals. Even if she entered a room and his back was to the door, he realized that while she was in his rooms tending to him and he was dying, he had come to recognize her footsteps by the way she walked and how light they were. Whenever she was there his eyes were constantly drawn to her by some inexplicable force, and whenever a student mentioned her he had to clench his jaw and concentrate on not allowing his head to snap up, expecting her to appear.

Hermione was just as haunted; one word about him from her students and she looked up expectantly, but she had spontaneously lifted her head to smile at her students so often in the past that she only had to smile and they saw nothing out of the ordinary. She found herself leaning towards him almost all of the time at meals, and had to force herself to remain sitting straight and still as she could. And whenever he walked into a room or within her range of sight, even if she had to turn around to see him, there was something in the air that came with him and which she recognized as soon as it arrived. Also, she had learned to recognize his footsteps; he walked with a long stride, and almost strutted along when he moved. And at the mention of him by other staff members, she had to pretend she hadn't heard if they weren't talking to her and put a convincing, bored expression on her face at his name if they were talking to her.

Ginny had come back to school for her sixth year, but Hermione had had little time for the girl because of classes and homework. Ginny was also playing on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and she was quite busy herself with all of the practices that she had to fit into her schedule. Hermione smiled, remembering how excited she had been to watch Harry and Ron when they were on the team. She was looking forward to the first game of the season, which would be that next Saturday. Then again, it would be Gryffindor against Slytherin, and she couldn't help but suspect foul play based on her personal experiences with Slytherin students in the past. Pansy Parkinson had returned as well, and Hermione had been relieved to find that Draco Malfoy hadn't. He seemed to be quite happy hiding at home with his parents, who had been tried by Kingsley and were still being watched carefully.

Hermione was sitting at her desk, focusing on two things at once. She was grading papers and thinking about Severus, and somehow managing to multitask without writing his name on the top of the parchments instead of the grade each student had received. She finished the grading and set the papers in her bag, where they would stay until she handed them back to the fifth years the next day. She would have only a matter of moments to herself before the third year Slytherin came into her classroom, and she waved her wand absently at several bits and pieces of parchment that had been pushed off of their desks. The papers flew to her desk and lay out in front of her. She hadn't cleaned the classroom all day, and these notes and blank pieces of parchment could be from sixth years, third years, or first years.

She glanced over several bits of notes from third years, and smiled; the writers of the notes had listened well. The sixth year notes were mostly written to each other in some secret code, and she didn't have the time or the interest to decipher them. The first year notes made her extremely pleased; they were absorbing more than she'd previously thought. Turning over what appeared to be a blank piece of paper, she saw just a bit of ink that looked strangely cut off. Suspecting an amateur charm, she tapped her wand on the paper. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open at what she saw; the initials S.S. + H.G. were written neatly in a carefully-drawn heart. On the back of the note were several sentences that the two first years—girls, obviously—had written to each other.

Have you seen the way he looks at her?

Yes! And how she looks up whenever she hears his name?

He's a bit old, though, isn't he?

Age doesn't matter when you're in love!

You're right.

Do you think they'll ever get married?

No. If McGonagall knew she'd skin Him alive and fire him!

She would never do that to Her, though, would she?

No. Never.

Hermione closed her teeth with a click and grabbed the notes, putting most of them in her desk drawer to hand back to whoever had lost them the following lesson she had with each of those classes. She stared for a moment longer at the heart with the initials inside of it and tucked it away inside of her robes. She was blushing slightly; it was obvious who the girls had been talking about. SS + HG: Severus Snape plus Hermione Granger. Her face had only just returned to its normal shade of white when the next group of students entered. They all looked sour, and she knew why; they'd just come from the potions classroom.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she taught them how to turn mice into teacups. So, two of the students had noticed her and Severus' odd behavior. How many others, older students even, had caught on? She pondered it absently while watching the class as they tried to do as she'd told them.

She gathered up the new bits of scattered parchment at the end of the day and read all of them. Many were notes, as before, but now most of the blank pieces didn't turn out to be so blank after all. Only a few of the students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw were aware of what was happening between their least favorite and their most beloved teachers. And between those three houses all of the notes were written by girls who thought the supposed relationship between their professors quite beautiful and endearing. Many of them had started hoping that Severus would eventually declare his undying love for Hermione, even if it lost him is job and the respect of everyone. Most of these girls were between their first and third years, and three of them seemed to have started their own little club, fantasizing over possible outcomes of the teachers' relationship when they should have been focusing on their school.

There were, however, even a few notes about it from the Slytherin students. But these were almost all seemingly written by girls who hated Hermione and couldn't understand why their head of house would find her interesting in the least. There were even several insults about her that she laughed at. Some called her too good, others said that she was the reason their parents or some family member had been sent to Azkaban because of the fall of the dark lord, and some even blamed her for the deaths of their death eater relatives. And then she found one that seemed to have been written by a Slytherin boy. He had scribbled down several signs that Severus was indeed harboring feelings for the transfiguration teacher. Apparently, he'd even done several "experiments" just to be sure. And he had decided that his suspicions were valid.

Hermione wasn't worried by any of these, however; the students would never dare let their suspicions slip to any of the staff, and even if they did as long and she and Severus were avoiding each other as they were now or even just talking but not openly acting as if they were attracted to each other, no one among the staff would care. Besides, if the staff members ended up deciding that she did have affections for the potions master, they would never guess that he returned her feelings. Hermione stopped thinking about it then; even she wasn't sure that the head of Slytherin house actually did have any feelings for her other than spite and annoyance.

Several days had passed since Hermione had walked the dungeon at night on her birthday to think and had discovered Severus following her. On Friday evening all of the students were back in their common rooms, the anticipation rising for the Quidditch match the following morning. But sitting in her classroom, Hermione had other things than Quidditch or school on her mind. She put away the last of the homework, which she could grade later, and rose from her seat. It was about time she got the answers she deserved.

Walking down to the dungeon, she made her way to the potions classroom, hoping Severus would be there. Sure enough, he was, moving around as he used magic to put away most of the students' cauldrons. Hermione watched him from the half-open door for a moment. He moved around the room, still strutting, his black cloak billowing darkly behind him as it always had. He sat down behind his desk at last and Hermione decided it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, closing it behind her, and walked up to his desk. He had his head bent over some records and didn't look up. "What?" The tone of his voice made it obvious he thought she was a student.

Steeling herself, Hermione said firmly, "I want answers."

He heard her voice and looked up quickly, standing suddenly. Hermione was sure that he felt vulnerable while sitting if she was standing and that was why he'd risen. "I already gave them," he said shortly, picking up the records and walking to his office, where he set them on a shelf. He walked back into the classroom and appeared a bit surprised that she hadn't left yet.

"I want real answers," she said.

He let out a puff of breath and growled, "I gave real answers."

"You did not. You evaded all of my questions. Now give me real answers," Hermione insisted hotly.

He did what he had done many times to frighten students; he had not been facing her, but he turned suddenly and swept up closer until their faces were inches apart. Had she still been in school, his actions would have the desired effect. However, at the present, they did not. Seeing her unyielding glare, he flinched slightly and leaned away from her, but there was still only about a foot of space between them. Hermione took a moment to remember why she was there; his scent was all around her, overpowering her mind and making her want to just lean closer and enjoy it for a moment. Even as she was struggling, so was Severus. Those chocolate-brown eyes were looking at him, blinking hurt and confusion his way.

Hermione found her voice again. She turned away from him and walked to the wall, pressing her hands against the cool stone surface and feeling her confusion and muddled thoughts clear. She turned to face him and let go of the wall, though she was still standing close to it. "Why did you follow me?" she asked again.

He turned to face her, one hand resting on the student's desk beside him. He leaned against it, casually. "Why does it matter?" he asked coolly.

"Because I want to know," Hermione insisted.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure there are plenty of things you'd like to know."

At this, Hermione took a hopeful few steps towards him.

"But," he said, noting her approach and fearing the affect she had on him, "that does not mean you'll get answers."

Hermione huffed and glared at him. He glared right back. There were a few feet of space between them. Hermione was fighting the suddenly desperate urge to close that space. She had no clue that Severus was as well. No, he had to look away now. If he stared at her any longer, his resolve would be gone completely . . .

He averted his eyes. Hermione increased her glare on his face. She spoke very slowly and firmly. "Why did you follow me?"

He was fighting harder now. He couldn't look. He couldn't look at her at all. If he did, it would all be over.

"Answer me," she said, meaning to speak loudly, but her voice came as a whisper.

His head jerked up and he looked at her, obviously surprised that she had whispered. To her, it was lovely, because he finally looked her in the eye. Once again, she saw that his eyes were a deep, dark brown. She was transfixed.

Meanwhile, he had indeed lost all resolve by simply looking at her. Everything about her was suddenly so obviously beautiful; he wondered how he'd ever insulted her before. Those eyes were staring at him, and she wasn't glaring anymore. The crease between her brows had ceased to exist and her forehead was smooth. Her brown curls suddenly seemed the perfect color, and they looked soft and lovely. Her skin looked pale and beautiful. Why had he ever questioned the reasoning behind her being a favorite among the students? He stared at her, and his gaze was warm and gentle, hardly the cold, hard glare she was used to.

Hermione was completely lost in his eyes. She forgot why she was there. She forgot what she'd just said. She only knew that she wanted to step forward and close the gap between them. Coming back to reality, she managed to force her feet to remain still. He came back as well, but was still admiring her beauty. Remembering her motive in coming to the potions classroom, Hermione asked again, softly, "Why did you follow me?"

"I- I don't know," Severus admitted quietly.

Hermione blinked, and then he was right there, only inches away from her. She wasn't sure whether it was he or she that had moved forward, or both.

Severus was losing it. He had barely any control, hardly any restraint left; he would be unable to stop himself in only a moment. He had to look away. But trying to avert his eyes was like trying to move Hogwarts by pushing on the wall. And then, he snapped. He lost his last bit of will that had been holding him back. With a quick, whispered, "I'm sorry," in advance, the apology for his unrestrained actions burst from him. Then he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers. Hermione was so surprised she didn't move, simply remained still while Severus moved his lips against hers.

And then the spell seemed to break. Severus realized what he was doing and pulled back, leaning away from her and staring at her in shock. He began to apologize again, but while he was panicking Hermione was biting her lip and smiling at him. Did he regret it? Obviously. But was it because he didn't want to kiss her or because he thought she didn't want to kiss him?

Realizing that he thought he had done something without her consent, she moved forward, put her arms around his neck, and leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart. He was watching her, his eyes still like melted chocolate, seemingly transfixed that she had even moved towards him again. Then, abandoning all caution and recklessly obeying her desire to do so, she closed the space between them and pressed her lips to his. And after an unresponsive moment, he was kissing her back. Her professor, the old bat of the dungeons who cared for no one and knew not what to do with those who cared for him, was kissing her.

And then he broke away. "Get. Out. Now." He gently pushed her away from him.

But Hermione was feeling reckless. "No."

He raised his eyebrows, and she couldn't look away from his still-stunning eyes. "No?" he asked, obviously furious.

"Severus," she said softly, and his anger seemed to ebb away into nothingness when she said his name.

He closed his eyes. "Forgive me," he said huskily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. She walked up to him and put her hand on his cheek. "Look at me." He refused. "Look. At. Me." she whispered. It was occurring to her just how boldly she was behaving, but she ignored that.

His eyes opened and met hers. "Don't be sorry," she whispered. "Do I look like I regret it?"

He stared into her eyes, searched her face. No, she did not look like she regretted it. In fact, her eyes were twinkling with untold happiness. "No," he said quietly. He wanted to simply close his eyes and revel in the feeling of her hand on his cheek, but she wanted him to look at her, so he met her eyes again.

His eyebrows rose again when she stood on her toes, clutching his cloak and pulling herself up. She kissed him again, and he kissed her back. And then he was somehow unafraid of pulling her into his arms when it was over. She buried her face in his chest and he buried his in her hair. And for a moment, the two of them could have sworn they were experiencing heaven. Severus clutched her tighter to him and then let her go, sighing. She bit her lip and smiled up at him. He closed his eyes patiently and said nothing about her bad habit of biting her lip. She swallowed and said, "Dinner?" as she looked at the clock. He glanced at it, too, and nodded. She reluctantly let go of his cloak and both stood on their own.

Hermione started walking towards the door first, knowing that they shouldn't linger and he was probably already getting back to his regular cold self. But when she made it to the door—which she was now very thankful she'd closed when she entered—he said softly, "Hermione."

She turned and looked at him, and his eyes were just as melted and beautiful as they had been before. She waited for him to say more. "You realize how serious this is?"

She nodded, biting her lip again, this time without a smile.

"It cannot happen again."

She nodded again, though her eyes were wet with extra liquid. Then, not waiting for him to say anything more, she left the classroom and wiped her eyes, blinking away her tears and heading for the Great Hall.

Dinner was as it had been the day before; both were still battling themselves. Even after what had happened in the classroom, and what had been said, they were still drawn to each other. When the meal was over, both were relieved and walked straight to the dungeons. This time, however, Severus was in the front of the group of staff and Hermione was in the very back. Neville was talking to her, but she agreed with whatever he'd said and entered the teachers' lounge just in time to see that Severus had turned where he stood in front of his door. Their eyes met for a moment and then she turned away and entered her room. He watched her go and sighed, entering his own.

This was what he wanted. He had to push her away or she would continue to care for him. And she was half his age. She had her whole life ahead of her and he was a double agent who was, as many believed against Potter's claims, a criminal. He would ruin her and soil her chance at a beautiful, wonderful life. He stared at himself in the mirror, leaning on his hands and noticing the lines in his brow, the greasy look of his hair, and just how ugly he was when he glared at himself. What could she possibly see in him?

He walked back to his bedroom and changed before climbing into bed. This was for the best. She would move on and marry someone her own age, someone who could give her a good home, and love, and a family. Someone without a criminal record, someone who had a good family that would love her, someone who could offer more than the scarred, battered heart of an old man. Severus leaned his head back on his pillow and stared into the darkness. She could never love him anyways. It was just a crush, as all teenagers got. Perhaps she was an adult now, but that didn't mean her feelings had actually been anything. He had to do this. It was for her. Should he follow his own selfish desires, he would accept whatever affections she offered, because he had come to love her. But he was sure that she could never love him. She never had, and he would ensure, for her sake, that she never would.

Hermione changed, tears welling up in her eyes again, and then threw herself down on her bed and turned out the lights. But rather than feeling foolish or naïve, or as if she'd been taken advantage of, she wished Severus would open his eyes and see that she really did care. But she was sure she knew why he'd said what he had; they were teachers and couldn't let their personal lives interfere with their professional. Or perhaps he just didn't feel that way about her?

Hermione finally let it out. She buried her face in her pillow, tears soaking the fabric and streaming down her cheeks. Was this what he had wanted? To make her miserable? She shook, her whole body wracked with sobs as she thought back to the potions classroom. He had kissed her first. But no, this was her fault. She had gone to his classroom and invaded his space and not listened when he told her to leave. He had kissed her, yes. But then he had come to his senses and pushed her away. And she was the one who had continued it. It was her fault, all her fault, that she was going through this. Biting her lip, Hermione tried not to think about what Severus was doing. She also tried not to remember how it had felt to press her face into his chest and know that his nose was buried in her hair.

Even Crookshanks kept his distance, obviously not willing to get soaked beneath the downpour of tears that tricked from her eyes. She took several hours to fall asleep, and when she did, she was still crying.

When she woke in the morning and looked in the mirror, she hated what she saw. Not only was she a mess from her tearful explosion of emotion the night before, but now every flaw seemed to stand out. Her jaw wasn't feminine enough, and it curved in an ugly way. Her nose was too big for her face. One eye was larger than the other, she was sure. Her eyebrows were bushy, her curly hair was too thick and she was suddenly convinced it was funny colour. Her lips were too small and too pale. Her skin was so pale and white it was mortifying. Her body wasn't beautiful, either; her shoulders were too broad and her hips stuck out in angles rather than curves.

Her face fell and she started to cry again. No wonder Severus wasn't interested. What could she offer? She was hideous. And she fell back into bed, deciding that she wouldn't get up until the following morning when she absolutely had to.

She knew her absence at breakfast was missed. She knew they were getting worried when lunch was finished and she never showed once. And they would probably be talking, telling each other that they hadn't seen her all day and realizing that no one had. Multiple times, there was a knock at the door, but she ignored it.

Meanwhile, Severus was miserable all day as well. There was a terrible pain in his chest, but he knew that it wasn't from something physically wrong with him. When Hermione missed breakfast, he felt bad about pushing her away. Of course he regretted doing that. Didn't she realize how much he had come to care about her? He closed his eyes; her hand had been warm and comforting on his cheek. That was something he'd never experienced before. And her lips were so soft, and warm, and when they'd met his it was as if she could tell him everything she'd ever wanted to with just a single kiss. Did she have any idea that the day before in the dungeon had been the first time he'd kissed anyone or been kissed? Both had happened.

When she didn't make it to lunch he became paranoid. He had been so sure that her feelings for him would pass quickly and she'd be right back on her feet. But here she was, a no-show again at dinner. The other teachers had turned to McGonagall, but she'd said to leave the young woman alone; it was probably another letter from Weasley or something that had happened back at the Burrow. Severus felt even worse because he thought he knew the real source of her anguish. And he was right.

At last, he went down to the kitchen and found the house elves. Among them was Kreacher, who Severus knew belonged to Harry but was also following orders from Hermione. "Kreacher," he said quietly, "your mistress is ill and hasn't come from her room all day. You ought to take her some hot tea and stay with her until she dismisses you."

He wasn't sure how the elf would react, but Kreacher puffed up his chest importantly and nodded. "Kreacher will do this. And Kreacher will tell Miss Granger that Mister Snape has sent him."

"No," Severus hissed urgently. "Do not tell her that I sent you."

The elf looked confused. "Surely Miss Granger will ask."

"Then tell her that you cannot tell."

The elf looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. He bowed before disapparating. Severus walked back to his rooms, pleased that Kreacher had done as he had urged. He paused at his own door, turning to look at the one beside the fire, with the twisting otter carved into it, before entering his rooms and shutting out the world. How soon would she recover from what he'd said? He already hated himself for the pain he'd caused. He should have just told her that there could be nothing between them, and then there would never have been the kissing and the holding . . .

Severus felt almost as he had when Lily had been killed; as if his heart was ripped from his chest and there was a gaping, burning hole there that threatened to tear him apart at any moment. He knew that Hermione still lived, but she was lost, no longer his, and never would be again. Even if she wanted to be his, he would refuse. He must. It was all for her.

And so once again, Severus Snape gave up something that meant much to him, for the good of others. Always, for the good of others. With Lily, with Potter, with Dumbledore, and now, with Hermione. His chest ached when he thought of her, and he laid there in pain because she was everything that was on his mind. He whispered her name and then fell silent, waiting, lying there in misery until he fell asleep.

Hermione was lying in bed and jumped when Kreacher appeared with a loud crack, carrying a tray with steaming tea on it. "Kreacher?" she sniffed.

He set the tray on the edge of the bed and bowed low. "Kreacher was told that Mistress was unwell and came to bring Mistress tea."

Hermione nodded. She was sure McGonagall or Pomona or perhaps even Neville had sent the house elf. "Who sent you, Kreacher?" she asked.

He swallowed and was silent. "Did they tell you not to tell me?"

The elf nodded.

Hermione was tired of not knowing things. "Kreacher, please tell me who it was." She knew that even if they'd asked, their request to remain unknown was not binding.

The house elf looked like he wanted to tell, but also didn't.

Finally Hermione could take it no longer. "Kreacher, I order you to tell me who it was."

The elf swallowed and said something too quietly for Hermione to hear.

"Again," she ordered. "Louder."

The elf looked up at her with watery eyes and said loudly, "Mister Snape came into the kitchen and told Kreacher that Mistress was unwell and had not left her room. He asked Kreacher to bring Mistress tea."

Hermione stared at him. Her eyes were swimming with tears, and they spilled over her cheeks. The house elf looked as if he feared that she might be angry, but she shook her head. "Thank you, Kreacher. Thank you."

The elf nodded and waited for her next order.

"You may go whenever you like, Kreacher. Thank you," Hermione said. He nodded and disapparated.

Hermione's tears were a mixture of pain and relief. So Severus did care. Even if he didn't want to be with her, he cared about her as she had cared about him while he was dying; he wanted her to be well, but there was nothing more. That knowledge was enough to stop her tears and allow her to fall asleep clutching her pillow, sniffing as the peaceful and painful feelings of the day faded away and she drifted off to sleep.

Okay, everyone, please tell me what you think of this! I found enough time to write it today which makes me happy because I was excited to get here, but also (for obvious reasons) kind-of-really sad for Hermione. Ha ha. But here's the big chapter and I hope you enjoyed reading it! Two chapters in a day! Wow I feel so accomplished! Remember to review if you have time and thanks for reading (but seriously, please review because I want to know how you like this chapter)! Love you all so very much! ~Taelr