Author's Note: Hi, friends. I want to start by apologizing for taking so long with this chapter. My goal is really to update much more frequently than once a month, but... well, this chapter was difficult for me to write, and I think that, once you read it, you'll understand why. As usual, your reviews and follows are much appreciated. And now: on with the show!

Part Two: Together

Chapter 6: Not Him

"Nothing unusual, nothing strange, just a little older, that's all.

You know when you've found it, there's something I've learned.

'Cause you feel it when they take it away."

-Damien Rice, "Amie"

The dark halls were lonely at night without Hermione's friendly chatter to keep him company. Severus patrolled alone, hardly focused on the work of finding troublemakers. Instead, he sulked. He had hardly seen Hermione in weeks; when he did see her, she was on the arm of the boorish Weasley boy, who dragged her around the castle like a prize horse, always looking obnoxiously smug. Their public displays of affection grated on Severus' nerves; he told himself repeatedly that this was due to his general dislike of romantic displays, not his unresolved feelings for Hermione.

But they'd not met for tea, or extra potions-making on her afternoons off. She hadn't popped in to his classroom just to say hello between classes, and she certainly hadn't made another late-night visit to his rooms. And it was putting Severus into a very foul mood. He was angry and sullen again, and the students had noticed. He took fifty points from Ravenclaw when a fifth year girl kindly remarked that his poor mood sure seemed like heartbreak; You silly girl, I do not have a heart to break.

The constant chilly rains matched his mood. Severus knew that it was selfish of him to want all of Hermione's attention for himself. She was truly his only friend, but of course she had other friends, a boyfriend, other people who required her time. Yet he had developed intense possessive feelings for her and was sick at the sight of her on the arm of another, as if she belonged to him.

She does belong to him. And she will never, ever belong to me.

He would never hold her hand in public, the way she did with Ron. He would never kiss her full lips, never run his hands along the soft skin of her stomach, never hear her breath catch when he nibbled her neck. He'd never take her out to a nice restaurant and then home to his bed. He'd never learn how to touch her to make her moan, never know how she slept or hold her in the night.

But he would be her friend, and that thought contented him. He would meet her for coffee in Hogsmeade and discuss the books they'd read. He'd show her all the potions he had created and hear her theories on magical history. He would read side-by-side with her on the couch, neither speaking for hours, just enjoying their quiet companionship. Yes, their friendship would be enough for him. Of course he could live without her body when it was her mind he coveted most.

But could he still be content with friendship when she belonged to another? No. Especially not that insufferable Weasley. What if they married? I would die. If she wouldn't be with him, then he did not want her to be with anyone else, either. But she deserves so much happiness. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, let her be with that man, who showed her off like a trophy, who used her as a security blanket against his own pain while she dealt silently with her own.

A noise in the dark corridor ahead pulled Severus out of his thoughts. Having not bothered to light his wand, he was almost upon them before he knew it.

In a small alcove, Ron Weasley had Hermione pressed against the wall, his hands up her top and his face in her neck. Severus pressed his back against the adjacent wall to listen, relying on the soft hiss of the rain to cover the sound of his haggard breath.

"Oh, 'Mione," Ron moaned. "Merlin, I've missed you." He was breathing heavily as he ground himself against her, and Severus' stomach churned.

"I've missed you too, Ron," she answered. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Severus did not think she sounded nearly as aroused as her partner.

"Your skin's so soft," he moaned, "Oh 'Mione..."

Severus felt ill, but he could not make himself move away. I'm a glutton for punishment, I suppose.

There was a rustling of clothing. "Ron!" Hermione whispered furiously. "Ron, please. Not here."

"You're right," he answered, not taking care to be quiet. "Let's go up to your rooms..."

"Ron!" Severus clinched his fists, resisting the impulse to interrupt whatever it was the boy was doing that Hermione did not approve.

"What? You want privacy..."

"Ron, I don't want..."

"Oh, c'mon, Hermione! Everyone thinks we're doing it anyway!" Severus cringed in the dark. So the rumors weren't true after all.

"I don't care, I'm not having sex with you here."

"Like I said, we'll go up to your rooms..."

"Ronald!"

The boy stopped talking immediately, and the dark hall was quiet.

"Ron, please." Hermione whispered after a time. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't... I'm not ready."

Ron whispered something back, but Severus didn't hear him, for he had already taken off silently down the hall. Holy fuck, he thought as he retreated to the dungeons in an effort to avoid hexing the boy into oblivion. Thank Merlin she didn't let him... he couldn't bear to finish the thought; he couldn't stand to think of her with him, not like that. It hurt him enough just seeing them laughing together, their arms intertwined.

In the dark of the dungeon hall, Severus came to a halt, hands on his knees, heaving emptily. How could she make him feel this way? How had he become so sick, so possessive of her? Not since he was a student here, and Lily...

No, it is impossible. Certainly he'd grown to care for Hermione very much, but other than that one, terrifying dream, he had kept her separate from

Lily. Lily, so kind and intuitive, so beautiful, he had loved his whole life. But Hermione, with her intense loyalty and brazen honesty... how did she fit in?

Stumbling back to his rooms in the dark, Severus realized that he just didn't know anymore.

Saturday was Gryffindor versus Slytherin in Quidditch and the first day of sun in two weeks. The castle was empty and quiet, and Severus was sipping his coffee at his desk and working his way through a stack of third-year essays when he heard an urgent rapping on the classroom door. Before he could answer, Hermione was in and slamming the door behind her, pressing her back against it as if she was being pursued.

She smiled her big, warm smile at him. "G'morning, Severus."

He didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow. And tried to suppress the smile on his lips.

"Can I hide here?" She asked, her voice pleading. "Just until the end of the match?"

"Of course." He grimaced at his own eagerness and forced himself to resume his grading, trying to look indifferent.

"Thanks." She crossed to his desk and perched on it just next to his hand. Now he really couldn't focus, with her leaning so close...

"I've never really liked Quidditch," she said.

"I can relate." He set down his quill. There was no way he was going to finish now.

"Ron and Harry and Ginny... they love it." She appeared to be talking to her thighs.

"Oh? And aren't you eager to spend time with your lover?" Severus immediately regretted his sarcastic tone.

"Oh gods, no."

Severus looked up sharply. "What?" Was it possible that Hermione was no longer so besotted with Weasley? His heart leapt.

Hermione stared at her legs again. "Ron's fine, but me on the other hand..." she trailed off.

Severus stared. "You? What's wrong with you?" Nothing is wrong with you; you're absolutely perfect.

"I don't know, Severus." He could hear in her voice that she held back tears, and he hesitantly reached for her hand. She held it tight in hers on her leg.

He was sure this was about what he heard in the hallway. Weasley was pressuring her to sleep with him, the bastard, and Hermione didn't want to. Oh, Hermione, please don't sleep with that arse. Someone who truly cares about you will respect your wishes... Like me.

Severus may have been caught up in his fantasy or maybe just feeling brave, but he certainly didn't think about what he did next. He stood from his chair, took Hermione by the shoulders, looked her straight in the eye, and whispered:

"Hermione, you do not have to do anything you're not ready for. Any man that is worthy of your affections will care for you enough to wait, I assure you. Please, just know that."

Her eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed.

"How did you know anything about that?" She whispered, her voice like venom. Severus straitened, suddenly realizing he'd given himself away.

" I just... I thought it seemed as though..." He tried to lie, but couldn't.

"Were you spying on me?" She asked slowly.

"No! I mean, I was doing rounds, and I heard... I just, accidentally..."

Hermione wrenched herself from his grip and slid off the desk, putting some distance between them. "I can't believe you! Listening in on a private conversation..."

"I'm sorry." His words sounded like a plea. "I'm so sorry Hermione, It was an accident and... I was just worried about you."

Hermione covered her face with her hands. "Oh, gods, this is so embarrassing! I can't believe you heard that... you of all people..."

"What do you mean, me of all people?"

"...And so patronizing!" she continued, ignoring him. "'Hermione, don't do it if you're not ready!'" she mocked. "'Hermione, find a man who will respect you!'"

"Please, Hermione," Severus begged, "I've said I'm sorry."

But Hermione wasn't listening.

"I don't need you to tell me that my relationship has problems!" She yelled. "I know, okay? I get it. I know there are things we need to talk about... but Ron is good to me. And kind, and he isn't afraid to show his feelings..."

Not like me.

"...And whatever you heard, it was just a minute, and now things are fine, okay? And Merlin, can we please never talk about my sex life again?!" She was red in the face, her wild hair turning her into a menacing Gryffindor lion worthy of her house. She sighed and buttoned her jacket. "I'm going out to the Quidditch pitch," she said. "I'll see you later."

For months afterward, Severus would regret what happened next. He would play this moment again and again in his mind, wishing that he had simply apologized a final time and let her go.

Instead, he yelled after her.

"Hermione, wait! You can't go." She turned on her heel, facing him with a furious stare.

"And why not, might I ask?" She crossed her arms in front of her and stood rigid, waiting for the answer he didn't really have.

Because you should be with me instead of Ron. Because you don't love him. Because I need you.

"Because you don't like Quidditch."

She let out a disdainful laugh.

"Not as much as I don't like you right now," she spat, turning to leave.

Severus only knew that he had to think fast, had to get her to stay, though she wanted so badly to leave.

"Please Hermione, let me make you some tea." He said softly.

She was still headed for the door.

"Come back, please, and let's talk..." His voice was increasingly urgent.

Her hand was on the knob.

"Hermione!" He called after her, panicked. "Please! Stop!"

She turned again, halfway out the door. "Why?!" She yelled back, insistent. "Why should I stop?!"

"Because you shouldn't be with him!"

"That is not your place to say, Severus!" She shouted. "But please, enlighten me: why shouldn't I be with Ron?"

"BECAUSE HE DOESN'T DESERVE YOU!" He bellowed.

The room was quiet for a moment, Hermione starting at him with narrowed eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and full of contempt.

"Who does deserve me, Severus?"

She knew.

It was a challenge, he was sure. She was daring him to say that he did, to reveal his feelings. She knew how he felt. How long had she known? Did she have feelings for him, too? Did he dare take this chance?

Alas, it was a trick question. He could have honestly answered himself to a number of other questions, but could he say he deserved her? Never. And so he lowered his gaze and his voice, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Hermione. But not him."

Hermione's eyes were full of tears when he worked up the courage to look at her again. Did she look disappointed in his answer? No, she looked angry with him, just as she had before. He took a few tentative steps in her direction, eager to be closer to her, to patch things up between them.

"Hermione, please," he begged, though for what, he was unsure.

He moved more quickly toward her now, and let his body take over, his brain—his conscience—shutting down.

She looked scared. "Severus, I..."

Two more long strides and he was there, her body pressed against his, his hands knotted in her hair... and her lips pressed against his. He wrapped his free hand round her small waist, lifting her slightly off the ground. He moved his mouth against hers, parting her lips...

And she was kissing him back.

For a brief moment, they were locked together and he was lost... it was a dream... she was warm and sweet and soft, and they places where their bare skin touched felt pleasantly tingly with electricity.

It was a moment before Severus realized that the hands on his chest were not grabbing to pull him closer, but resisting, pushing them apart. No, I don't want to let go...

"No," she said against his mouth. And a tremendous shock pushed them apart, a pale purple current of sparks shooting from Hermione's hands and into his chest.

He fell back against a desk, rubbing his chest where the strange magic had touched him. Their eyes met, and he noticed that the tears in hers were finally streaming down her cheeks.

"No," she repeated, "No, no no no!" But she held his gaze. Her hands hung in the air as if she wasn't sure they were done doing damage.

"Hermione," he reached to her, but she took as step back.

"No," she repeated, shaking her head.

"Hermione," he repeated, "Please, don't say 'no.'"

She stared at him, tears falling steadily.

"No," she whispered. And slipped out the door.