Ok guys I'm updating again, but it's just because I have soooo much more I want to do with this story and I'm really anxious to get to that part ;) Let me know how you think it's going so far.

It was already much later than last time.

Hermione paced back and forth in front of the giant window she had found on the fourth floor that overlooked the grounds. It had been a while since the last time Snape had been called to the dark lord's side (at least, as far as she knew), and she had tried to talk herself out of waiting up for him, but obviously that hadn't worked out according to plan. She had, however, decided to be a little subtler about it this time.

From the window, Hermione could see the big iron gate to the castle grounds. If she waited here, she reasoned, she would be able to see when he made it back without actually having to confront him.

For a while she had merely sat there, trying to enjoy the peaceful view while her mind kept telling her that Snape was likely in peril. But it had been far too long and she didn't know what to do. Maybe he came back some other way that I couldn't see, she tried to tell herself. It wasn't a good enough explanation to calm her nerves. Maybe he came back while I was on my way up here? She hoped.

But it still wasn't enough to tear her away from her post. Every few laps in front of the glass panes, she would stop in the middle and squint into the distance, as if to see him before he made it to the gate. Then, she would resume her pacing, keeping her eyes focused on those distant, black rails.

Then she saw him. A black silhouette suddenly appeared against the glow of the moonlit grass beyond the gate. She pressed her forehead to the glass to verify his identity. There was no denying that those sweeping black robes belonged to her Potions Master. He stepped toward the castle, then suddenly crumpled. Her heart gave a sudden jolt before she berated herself for being so jumpy. But he wasn't moving. He was just a pile on the ground.

Terror seared through her and she found herself running through the castle before she had even started to worry what could be wrong with him. In an instant she was sprinting across the lawn toward the gate. As she approached, she could see the ragged outline of her professor in the grass on the other side.

The gate was locked. She banged against it in panic, noting that Snape didn't even seem to register her presence. She felt like screaming. Then a voice in her head told her that she would get nowhere by behaving in such a manner. She froze and tried to assess the situation from a logical standpoint. I've got it! "Dobby!" The house elf appeared instantaneously and her immediate thought was to wonder if house elves ever slept. Now is not the time for S.P.E.W. initiatives! she reprimanded herself. "Dobby, can you let me out of the gate? I have to get to Professor Snape." Dobby followed her gaze and squeaked in shock.

"Dobby is sorry Miss Harry Potter's Friend. The Headmaster is not giving Dobby permissions for opening the gate. But if Miss Harry Potter's Friend wishes, Dobby can take Miss Harry Potter's Friend to Master Professor Snape." Hermione went from despair to inspiration in the space of a split-second. Nodding vehemently, she took Dobby's hand.

In an instant they were on the ground next to Snape's crumpled form. She turned him over, but there were no obvious injuries or blood visible to let her know what the matter was. Panic throbbed inside of her. She couldn't lose him! "Dobby," she pleaded, "can you take Professor Snape and myself to Professor Snape's chambers?"

"Of course, Miss Harry Potter's Friend! Dobby is happily taking Miss Harry Potter's Friend and Master Professor Snape to Master Professor Snape's chambers!"

"Thanks, Dobby," she replied, hiding her impatience. Then they were in his quarters. Dobby had had the sense to deposit them on the professor's bed, and Hermione quickly went about casting diagnostic spells. To her surprise, it appeared that her professor was only suffering from one affliction: prolonged exposure to dark magic in the form of a curse targeting his nerves: Cruciatus.

To her dismay, Hermione had no idea how to treat this particular affliction. Suddenly, her professor's body seemed to seize up and Hermione cried out in fear and sympathy for him. Instinctually, she brushed her hands against his face in an effort to provide comfort, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

As quickly as the episode had come, it was over, and Hermione was desperate to find some way of helping him. "Dobby," she said, "Do you happen to know of any treatments for Cruciatus?" It was a shot in the dark, she knew, but she was grasping at straws, here. To her immense relief, Dobby nodded in the affirmative.

"Dobby is seeing Master Malfoy take a Calming Draught when Master Malfoy had the Cruciatus." Of course! Hermione bolted for the potions lab to recover some of the batch she had made the other day. Clumsily pouring a bit more than a serving of it into a separate beaker, Hermione hurried back to her professor's side, practically launching herself onto his bed and tilted his head up to give him the potion. She had to pinch his jaw open because his teeth were clamped down so hard and she tilted the beaker to his lips, trying not to spill too much down his cheeks. Then, she rested his head on her knee and massaged his throat, as she had always heard you're supposed to do, in an effort to make him swallow.

He finally did and then immediately groaned, which startled her, but she was happy to have any response at this point. "Master Malfoy is also drinking lots of water, Miss Harry Potter's Friend," Dobby told her. She nodded, replacing her knee with a pillow and hurried to fill the beaker with some in the adjoining bathroom.

This time, his hand came up to the glass as he drank the cold water and her eyes stung with tears of joy to see him improving. His head fell back against his pillow. Her arm was still supporting his neck, but she made no move to withdraw it yet. "Anything else, Dobby?" she whispered.

"Master Malfoy is having lots of sleep Miss Harry Potter's Friend." She nodded that that made sense.

"Thank you, Dobby. You've been a tremendous help." Recognizing the dismissal, Dobby disappeared.

Severus felt as if he were coming out of a thick fog. He felt strangely rejuvenated; strange considering the torture he'd been subjected to the night before. Not that he was complaining. Rather, he happily allowed himself to drift back to sleep.

There was a sweet perfume in the air that reminded him of Granger. Hermione. He was unaccustomed to having good dreams, so this was a welcome surprise. She was pressed against his side, her arm under his neck, her hair brushing his face, her calf draped over his thigh, her breasts pressed into his shoulder. Her perfect, full, soft breasts. And his arm was by his side, pressed against her belly. He groaned and stirred himself awake just enough to slip a hand under the blankets for some relief only to meet with a barrier.

Pants. He was wearing pants. Odd. He never slept in pants. If he was coherent enough to get to bed, he was coherent enough to strip. Focus slowly returned to him, but the dream did not dissolve. Granger really was in his bed and she really was curled up against his side. His whole body tensed, then he flung her away from him.

Hermione cried out as she landed on the other side of his bed, practically slipping off the side. Her wide eyes immediately took in her surroundings and she froze. He watched a brilliant red hue tinge her pale complexion and her sweet mouth was parted in embarrassed shock. He felt himself twitch in agonized need and scowled at his own lack of self-control.

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" he yelled at her. She winced and he noticed that she was holding up the covers as if they provided some amount of protection, though he already knew she was fully dressed.

"I'm so so sorry, Professor," she said slowly in a hoarse voice. Her eyes were puffy and he could tell she had cried herself to sleep. In my bed! He was beyond furious, yet couldn't help but notice how wonderfully wild her hair was in the morning. "I must have fallen asleep…"

"You seem to do that a lot, Miss Granger!" he bit back. It seemed somehow incredibly wrong to call her Miss Granger while she was in his bed.

"Please, professor! You were hurt and I was only trying to help…"

"It was only a little Cruciatus! I've survived a whole hell of a lot more than that! Let me assure you, I do NOT. Need. Your. HELP!" Her face hardened, then and he had a sudden urge to grab all of his words and stuff them back into his mouth.

"Fine," she said indifferently. The fact that she wasn't even mad made it all so much worse. "Next time I'll just leave you in the grass." He wanted to bite back that he had been left in the grass plenty of times before and had been just fine. He wanted to tell her that he changed his mind and he did want her to check on him and take care of him and be there.

But he didn't say anything as she slipped out of his bed, and left him alone.

That was what he wanted, right? To be left alone?

Fuck.

Teehee! How'd you like that? ;D