Six Months Prior

In the weeks that followed, after the mistletoe incident, neither Hermione nor Severus mentioned it again. When the two of them were in one another's company, he treated her no differently than he had prior to their kiss. Somewhat kind at times - kind for Severus, that was, and borderline aloof and cold at others.

There were moments when she wondered if she imagined the whole thing, but then her body would react to the memory. She would feel a tightening below her waist and a tingling sensation surge through her when remembering the feel of his lips, the pipe smoke and Gillywater taste of him, and the warmth of his body, briefly pressed against hers. For as active and brilliant as her mind was, even she could not have come up with a fabrication as vivid as that.

As time went on, and it was obvious that the subject had become a taboo, she actively tried to push that evening from her mind, determined to let it go. When she'd find herself slipping, she'd pinch the inside of her arm to try to deter herself from reliving it. But that hadn't meant that Hermione had not thought about it. Despite her efforts, the memory of his kiss seemed to pop up at random intervals, like an annoying alarm, determined to send rejection, confusion, longing, and shame coursing through her.

One January evening, she was sat in the Staff Lounge with parchment, quills, and a book opened before her; a hot cup of coffee was clenched between her hands. She was working on her lesson plan for the following week for her seventh years, who would begin Patronuses. Dinner had just finished in the Great Hall and she thought she'd take advantage of the empty room, since the library most likely would have been peppered with some of the older students, who had begun preparing for their upcoming NEWTs and OWLs. She felt as if she were just as worried about the students performing well on their exams as they were, which was why she was so focused on making sure her entire lesson plan was perfect.

Before taking a sip from her mug, Hermione inhaled deeply. The smell of freshly brewed coffee always calmed Hermione. There was something about the aroma that reached inside of her and gently rocked her soul, almost to sleep. When the scent of the beans reached her nostrils, every stressor, insecurity and worry seemed to float away with the steam that swirled and floated toward the sky. It was just one of those homey smells, like an old book, a dirt-floored basement, rain on the pavement on a summer's day or freshly mown grass.

She sat staring at nothing in general, just enjoying her coffee and once again reliving Christmas Eve in her mind, when her attention was diverted by the door quietly opening.

"Hey, Hermione," Neville called to her from across the room.

It wasn't that Hermione hadn't been happy to see her longtime friend, but if she had to choose the person to have interrupted her at that moment, she would have gone with a certain surly Potions Master.

Regardless, she smiled in welcome. "Evening, Neville."

When Neville scanned the room, and saw that Hermione was the only one in there, a small frown formed on his lips. "What are you doing in here all by yourself?"

Hermione shrugged. Truth be told, since The-Kiss-That-Shall-Not-Be-Spoken-Of happened, she had begun to isolate herself a bit. She tended to spend her evenings either in the Staff Lounge, Library, her living quarters, or just wandering the halls of the castle. The silence and solitude comforted her.

"Lesson planning," she answered, pointing at the items in front of her.

As Neville pulled out a chair across from her, Hermione noticed his brow furrowed. Far from the chubby, insecure little boy he once was, Neville was now more confident, mature and unafraid to speak his mind if need be.

"You haven't been looking very well lately, Hermione. You're pale and have lost a scary amount of weight," he stated bluntly.

She hadn't been sleeping, or eating much for that matter. Stressed over her feelings for a man she should have had them for, living in the place where she had lost so many people, and the pressure of making sure she did not fail as a Professor her first year, had all contributed to her current state. How well her students did on their exams would be a direct reflection of her as their teacher. She wanted to make sure they all made top marks, otherwise, she would have considered herself a failure. Hermione had changed in many ways throughout the years, but the compulsion to succeed and the fear of failure had never left her.

The corner of her mouth twitched, as she tried to give Neville a reassuring smile. "Just a bit stressed, that's all."

Neville nodded, yet did not remove his eyes from Hermione's. The way he looked at her, it had reminded her of how Dumbledore would attempt to almost x-ray his students; trying to break through their carefully guarded walls and see what had truly been weighing on their minds. It unnerved her a bit, and she found herself longing for the days when Neville would have perhaps minded his own business.

Uncomfortable under his scrutinizing stare, Hermione broke eye contact and focused her attention on the, now lukewarm, cup of coffee in her hands. She took a sip and blanched due to the temperature. Removing her wand from her pocket, she pointed the tip at the beige liquid, casting a heating charm and making it steam once more.

"I know, Hermione," Neville said without preamble.

Hermione choked on her drink. She was undoubtedly confused.

"Know what?" She cocked her head to the side.

Neville shook his head and let out a small chuckle.

"You've been one of my best friends since the moment we first stepped onto the Hogwarts Express," he began. "I know that you were always closer with Ron and Harry, but you were always my best friend. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than you do. Or Harry or Ron for that matter."

Hermione was still not sure what he was on about. Yes, she was genuinely touched that he considered her to be his best friend. She always assumed as much. After all, it was always Hermione who looked out for Neville during school; sticking up for him, helping him with his coursework and tutoring him after classes. When she thought about it, she supposed the two of them had been much closer than she gave them credit for.

"...you're one of my best friends, too, Neville. But - where are you going with this?" she asked slowly.

Rolling his eyes, Neville spoke very matter-of-factly. "That you've clearly got it bad for Snape."

Hermione's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Had she been that obvious about it? Did the other professors assume as much? Had Severus assumed it as well? Her heart picked up speed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Neville," she tried to laugh off.

"Not ridiculous, just observant," he said. "One thing about working with magical plans, Hermione. You tend to become rather proficient at noticing tiny details in living organisms. Slight changes in behavior and the like. You have to have a keen eye for detail."

Before Hermione could attempt to lie and deny that Neville was correct, the door to the Lounge opened again.

As she saw his black robes, and the steely look in his black eyes, she felt like all of the blood in hear body slowly drained from the crown of her head, to the tips of her toes. She feared that he may have heard what she and Neville were speaking about. Neville suddenly seemed to become very interested with a small thread which was sticking out from the cuff of his sleeve.

"Miss Granger, a word, please?" Although he formed it as a question, the tone of his voice suggested it was not so much a request as a demand.

Neville cleared his throat and stood from the table. "I'll talk to you later, Hermione," he said quietly before making his way towards the door.

Severus stepped to the side, as to let him pass. Neville pushed by about as fast as Hermione imagined his feet were able to have carried him. No matter how confident Neville had become, she knew that a part of him would forever be just a bit fearful of Severus Snape. Not that she could honestly blame him, she thought.

As soon as the door closed, and she and Severus were alone, he strode towards her, causing her mouth to go dry. It was the first time they had been alone since she assaulted him - for lack of a better word. She read the expression on his face carefully, and was not happy with what she saw. She would have preferred anger, apathy, mild disappointment or anything compared to the look of pity, which clearly shown in his eyes. He looked her over, and she knew she looked a fright. Hair bushier than normal, pulled up haphazardly in a messy bun, clothing hanging off of her small frame, due to the amount of weight she had lost, dark circles under her eyes and skin about as pale as Severus' himself. She was a mess.

"Miss Granger," he said as he pulled out the chair Neville had just vacated. Hermione flinched.

So she was Miss Granger again. It had been months since he addressed her as such, and she hated that he was doing it once more.

"Severus," she responded with a bit of acid in her voice. A shadow of smirk briefly crossed his lips, before he rearranged his face into the emotionless mask she knew all too well.

Hermione gently closed her book and took another deep drink from her coffee as she waited for Severus to speak. Being in such close proximity to him, entirely alone, made every nerve in her body come alive. She hated the way he affected her so. Every part of her wished that she would get over whatever this was; it was a waste of time, considering her obviously had not felt the same way.

"I couldn't help but to overhear your conversation with Longbottom," he said quietly.

Hermione dropped her mug to the ground, which Severus swished his wand and cleaned immediately. Her heart went from beating like a hummingbird's wings to stopping altogether.

"He was entirely off the mark," she lied in a gravelly whisper.

"Which explains your reaction to my statement, obviously," he challenged. His voice was filled with sarcasm. Hermione's face flushed crimson.

"It was just the fact that you were eavesdropping on a private conversation that took me off guard, that's all," she hissed.

Severus let out a loud breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb.

"Miss Granger-"

Hermione felt a surge of anger course through her. "Stop calling me that!" she shouted.

His expression darkened. Normally Hermione would have been intimidated, but she was entirely too angry. She kept herself sitting straight and glared right at him.

"I'm not a child, Severus," she all but growled through her teeth.

A cruel smile spread across his lips. "Then I would suggest to quit acting as such. What, with your ridiculous school girl crush. You do realize that I am nearly twice your age, Miss Granger? An old and broken man?"

His harshness knocked the wind from her. Her shoulders sank; she felt as if his words punctured her, and she was slowly deflating. She couldn't bear to be in his company for another moment.

"Leave," she ordered. Her eyes were beginning to sting and she knew it would not be long before she began to cry out of pure anger.

She felt her heart grow heavy when she saw the almost satisfied look he had, as he stood up before her. "As you wish," he said.

Hermione could not understand why he was such a cold and mean man at times, but perfectly agreeable other times.

Although she did just tell him to leave, a part of her did not want him to. She watched him walk away and she nearly told him to stay. But before she could and before he reached the door, he stopped and spoke once more.

"Trust me when I say, it's better this way. Better for you this way."

All of the sarcasm and bitterness was gone from his voice. He sounded almost pained. Hermione felt a yearning to reach out to him, hold him, and make the pain in his voice go away forever. Also, what had he meant by that? That it was better for her this way?

When he left her alone in the Lounge, Hermione let herself succumb to the tears she had been fighting back. Slowly she packed up her things and made her way back to her room for the evening. Lesson planning all but forgotten for the night as she curled up in bed, and silently asked her mother for advice on what to do.