Sorry for the lag in updating. Busy life has made it hard to find the time, but I only need a few hours to get everything down. I am writing as I go, so the reviews do really help! Let me know what you think!

Chapter 8

Secrets and Snogging

The next morning on the way to the Herbology greenhouse, Harry relayed what he had learned in his meeting with Dumbledore about Tom Riddle's childhood in the orphanage. That was no surprise, actually. A young Voldemort stole from other children and hurt animals, believing himself special and privileged?

"We could have guessed that," Hermione said knowingly.

"Yes, but it gives some insight into who he is and why," Harry said. Hermione thought this was very astute of him. Apparently, the lessons were working, and Harry himself was maturing to notice this point. "But get this, Snape had to go heal Katie this weekend and reverse the effects of her curse. Dumbledore said it's because he knows more about the dark arts than Madam Pomfrey, but…What if he could heal her because he knows about what the curse is in the necklace? What if Snape is in on this whole thing with Malfoy?"

Ron and Hermione groaned and looked at each other. They had just spent the weekend talking Harry down from Malfoy being involved with the cursed necklace and even Professor McGonagall had vouched for the Slytherin having not been in Hogsmeade at the time.

The groan and knowing looks helped Ron's case for the butterflies in Hermione's chest. Ron is maturing too.

"What? It makes sense! You said that Vol- sorry, You-Know-Who- wouldn't allow a 16-year-old to take the Dark Mark, but… What if Malfoy has a superior? You know, someone to report to if he sways from the crooked path? Like a handler! Snape would be the man for the job since he's right here to guide him all the time."

Hermione pursed her lips and tried to redirect Harry towards the Snargaluff stumps they were supposed to be working on.

Harry's fixation on Malfoy needed to end. It wasn't proven he was a Death Eater at all. Professor Snape being a Death Eater mentor to any younger recruits did make some sense, however. If it were true, that Snape knew about the necklace, then it could hardly bode well for him with either Dumbledore or Voldemort. The cursed necklace had obviously been meant to reach a different target.

She thought again about the reason Snape wasn't available last night for brewing. I hope he's alright.

Ron did a nice job of redirecting the conversation and asked for more details of Dumbledore's lesson. It wasn't long before Harry got bored with that topic and questioned Hermione about Slughorn's get-together the night before. Gwenog Jones of the Holyhead Harpies was the celebrity guest, she relayed. While Ron was jealously impressed at first, the topic then turned to the Slug Club Christmas party, and Ron became just jealous.

After hearing yet again about the elite club having another fancy party that he was not invited to, Ron sneered and told Hermione she should go to the party with that braggart McLaggen as her plus one, so all the Slug's favorites could be together. Furiously, Hermione turned red and blurted out that she had been going to ask Ron to go with her. If only he hadn't been so rude as to say she should "hook up with McLaggen", she might have. Ron mumbled back that he certainly didn't want her going with McLaggen at all.

It was obvious to the trio what had just happened by this admission.

The back-and-forth embarrassed Harry and they were all still in the middle of class and juicing Snargaluff pods, so it was a bit awkward; however, Ron ended the lesson looking sheepish and somewhat pleased with himself and Hermione was nervous and flustered.

Really, Hermione didn't know how to feel. Pleased? Guilty? Wishing somehow Snape would ask her to the party when he saw her later that week? That was impossible.

Stupid Slug Club, she thought. I wonder how Severus fared last night.

And just like that, she knew she felt very guilty. She had started thinking of Professor Snape as Severus in her head.

The first Quidditch match of the season was that coming Saturday. Harry had scheduled long practices every remaining night that week as it was the first match, against Slytherin, and Katie Bell was being temporarily replaced by Dean Thomas, who would need extra practice.

Hermione had received a note from Professor Snape, who must have known that Gryffindor had booked the pitch the following few nights. They would brew both that Thursday and Friday evening, 6 to 9. Enough time to eat dinner and abscond for the evening while her friends were at practice, but not so late that anyone would question her about her whereabouts.

Hermione was doing homework and talking with Harry, Ron, and Ginny in the common room on Wednesday evening after the Gryffindor team practiced. She had to get through quite a bit of schoolwork, since she wouldn't have time to work on it for the next two nights. After some halfhearted greetings and recalls about the practice, Hermione waved the boys up to bed, telling them she wanted to stay up and write essays for a little longer. Sweaty and exhausted from flying, they complied easily and skulked up the stairs.

Ginny gave a few furtive glances to check that the rest of the common room was empty before speaking. "How are you doing, Hermione?"

"Oh, erm… fine."

"Really? You seem different, like your mind is always on something. You've been daydreaming as much as Luna lately."

"Just preoccupied with classes, I suppose."

"Hermione." Ginny looked at her skeptically. "Fine, I'll spill first. Harry and Ron caught Dean and I snogging behind the tapestry last night. Ron was a right little toerag about it and I told him he just needed some snogging in his life, clearly."

"You did not!" Hermione gasped, but simultaneously choked back a laugh. "That can't have gone well."

"What do you expect of my brother?" Ginny grinned cheekily at her. "I'm sorry, I probably didn't help anything since I mentioned that Harry snogged Cho and you snogged Viktor, so he was behind on the game." Hermione winced. "He was a bit upset for my reputation, apparently, which honestly just pissed me off. I'm not a slag, which is surely what he was thinking. I know I've done some dating, but it's only gone as far as snogging. It's just been snogging to see…well, you know…" Ginny trailed off nervously.

"I know, Ginny. How did Harry react?"

"I don't really know! He just stood there, like he was frozen. It was a little embarrassing being caught and Ron seeing too, which is why I guess I yelled back that Ron needed more experience."

"Oh, Ginny."

"Do you think he'll hate me forever?"

Hermione frowned. "We…aren't talking about Ron anymore, are we?"

"No." The redhead sighed morosely. "Harry."

"Ginny, I think…Don't you think the advice I gave you is working? You've dated a bit, learned about what you wanted in a relationship, and you aren't so skittish around Harry any longer. He can talk to you now and get to know you, so… I certainly don't think he hates you. I absolutely won't let Ron convince him you're a slag."

"I know it sounds terrible that I'm even thinking of Harry right now. I care about Dean, I really do. He's just…" Ginny closed her eyes and sighed again. "He's like Ron is for you."

"What?"

"Like, I'm hoping things will grow, but… I'm trying to get over someone else, you know. I'm still trying to get over Harry."

"Ginny, I don't know what you're talking about."

The redhead looked at her skeptically again. "Which part?"

"There's…" Hermione flushed red. "There's nothing with Ron and me."

"There could be if you wanted to. You know that." Ginny met her eyes now. "The only question is, who is Ron helping you get over?"

Hermione had nothing to say.

The next night, Hermione met Professor Snape in the Dungeon hallway outside the Potions classroom. He led her inside the classroom and through a side door to the right and behind of the teacher's desk.

"This is where we will be brewing the antivenin."

"Here?" This must be the private potions laboratory.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

"It's… It's a closet."

While certainly appropriate for a single brewer, it was hardly adequate for two. It was the size of a long walk-in closet with a table at standing height, pushed up against the wall, running along one side of the room's length. There was a small deep sink at the back of the room. Long wooden shelving filled with ingredients in jars and vials lined the wall above the table. The room itself could not have been more than 2 meters wide and she wondered about Professor Snape's wingspan. He could perhaps touch a hand to each wall.

"It will do."

"Is there a reason we can't just use the classroom, sir?" She thought she would faint at the palpitations she was having. The idea of being confined with her Professor in this small space, all while half-wishing he would brush past her repeatedly and perhaps push her up against walls or surfaces, was as frightening as it was exhilarating.

"We shouldn't let anyone know what we are up to, Miss Granger. This is my own private laboratory, and I am the one who designates its use. Professor Slughorn has access to the Potions classroom and uses it after hours on occasion. I could hardly deny him access, as that would only pique his curiosity." He smirked at her dangerously. "Now I could ward the door to the classroom and physically prevent him from entering, but I think the implications of doing so would just inflame his suspicion."

"Why is that sir?"

He didn't answer her for a few beats.

Then he replied quietly in a slow drawl, "Come Granger, you can't be as innocent as that. Surely you realize what is implied by a man and woman locking and warding the door." This was followed by a scowl. "Especially an aging professor and a young nubile student."

He swept into the tiny laboratory as she flushed furiously and tried to get her heart rate under control.

Snape began preparing the workspace, taking jars of ingredients down from the shelves and placing a silver cauldron in the center of the table. He motioned Hermione in, not looking at her as he continued setting things out. She peered around him, curiosity already overcoming embarrassment.

"I have already extracted the venom from the rat and disposed of it. You are aware of the proper ingredient preparation and brewing process?" He still did not look at her as he spoke.

"Which brewing methodology-"

He interrupted without missing a beat, continuing to set out jars and vials. "We are using Empedocles' elemental method of brewing. It is slower than the typical process for brewing antivenin, as it would probably take too long to urgently treat a patient; however, the venom from this snake may prove difficult to work with, so it is the safest option."

Hermione appreciated how straightforward the explanation was, lacking the usual bite or demeaning tone he normally gave students.

They set to work, and after a brief awkward moment in which Hermione had to scoot past him to the corner of the closet-like room, there was a comfortable silence filled only with the sizzling of the cauldron and the chopping and mashing of ingredients.

Over the next few hours, Hermione found herself surreptitiously glancing over at her brewing partner, easily becoming distracted in her thoughts. She watched as he chopped, mashed, and diced. His hands are so nimble. Delicate, but strong.

It didn't help that Snape had also unbuttoned the cuffs of his black frock coat and the white shirt he wore underneath, pushing the sleeves up past his forearms. This was to help him stir the cauldron and handle ingredients without contaminating his robes, she knew. Still, it was a bit strange to see him exposed. For Snape, this was almost a state of undress.

She flushed and returned her eyes to her own cutting board and knife, determined not to remember how Professor Snape appeared in only a white shirt and trousers, sleep-tousled and fiery-eyed. I also saw his chest when I healed him, she thought dangerously.

She snuck a peek through her lashes yet another time, noticing the man had tied his raven hair back at the nape of his neck to prevent it from falling in front of his face. This was perhaps, worse, if she wanted to remain calm and focused. Now she could clearly see the outline of his jaw, his thin and arched lips, and the beginning of his neck above his high collar.

"Granger," he growled quietly.

She almost squeaked in surprise and returned her gaze to her board. She finished chopping the lotus petals, walked them over to the cauldron placed between herself and the Professor. She carefully poured them in before returning to her station and grabbing the next jar in front of her.

Hermione tried to concentrate on correctly mashing the doxy wings, she really did, but she found herself itching to sneak a glance at Snape out of the corner of her eye. Severus, she would call him in her head.

A quick turn of her head, at the pretense of cracking her neck, revealed that the dark-haired figure was no longer beside her. She frowned in confusion and turned her head completely.

"Granger."

"Eek!"

She really did squeak this time as his low voice revealed his presence directly behind her, almost touching against her back. She felt her entire body erupt in goosebumps and tried to prevent herself from visibly shivering, especially as he continued speaking.

"Is there any reason," he whispered menacingly, bringing one hand around each side of her to grip the table before her, "for your continual staring?" His bare forearms were so near to her trembling sides.

"I…I wasn't…"

"Do. Not. Lie." He hissed.

She could smell him clearly, picking up hints of sage and sandalwood along with the parchment smell, as if each new encounter with him uncovered another layer of scent. Her face and chest were hot, and she felt an accompanying warmth between her legs start to grow.

I was looking at you. Is there anything wrong with looking at an attractive man?

There's no way I can say that.

"I was looking at you."

Dragon Shite, I actually said it!

"That much, Miss Granger, is obvious." He said this slowly, his lips smacking slightly with each syllable in the last word, making the implication even more threatening. "What I want to know is why. I want to hear you say it."

Is there an innocent reason I can give? Because I want to get you down to the white shirt and practice snogging you slowly!

She didn't answer. They stood silently like this for a minute or so, listening to the cauldron bubble and sizzle. Hermione did her best to keep her breathing calm, though there was a throbbing between her legs that didn't help, and she prayed fervently he couldn't sense.

Finally, Snape seemed to uncharacteristically be the one to bend first. He pushed back from the table and away from Hermione, no longer entrapping her between his arms and the table.

"Turn and look if you must." He said bitterly.

Hermione turned completely around only to see him holding out his left forearm stiffly to her as he scowled. Her brow furrowed and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Professor… I didn't mean…" She whispered.

"Had a look at the big bad Death Eater, now? Are you satisfied?"

The Dark Mark lay on his arm in front of her, but it did nothing to frighten her. She had already glimpsed it a few times when she had seen him shirtless in the future.

Hermione could almost say a blessing to her future self in that moment, for having already heard that they had won the war and defeated Voldemort made a difference now.

As she looked down at the Dark Mark on his arm, it seemed almost cartoonish when thinking of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and certainly was a victory mark when thinking of Severus. It was anything but frightening. It was almost endearing, strangely, as it was a part of him. Like a familiar birthmark or a unique feature.

Her heart felt warm as she realized this, reluctantly realizing she had been familiarizing herself with him mentally for weeks.

Maybe I make the first move.

She'd wondered this before, but she had thought it would be next year, when she wasn't a student any longer. She was 17 now officially, perhaps almost 18 after all the Time-Turner usage. Could I…

"Truly, sir, I wasn't looking at it." She looked up at his face now. "I was looking at you, yes, but I…I wasn't looking at that. I honestly didn't even notice it." She swallowed and closed her eyes. "I was watching your arms and hands but only to see the way you prepared the ingredients. I was only-"

"Curious." He finished blankly, voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes. Just curious." She opened her eyes and met his. "That," she waved nonchalantly towards his arm, "doesn't bother me. Truly."

He still had his arm held out to her, forearm extended. His face read of disbelief, but the anger had faded away now. Slowly he lowered his arm.

He turned away from her and wandlessly cast a stasis charm over the cauldron. She saw him pause then, apparently thinking his next words through before turning back to her.

"I am a spy, Miss Granger. It is my prerogative to notice subtle changes in behaviour, even if others do not. Your behaviour has changed significantly since you returned from your Order assignment in September. I would be hard pressed not to notice and express concern for your… wellbeing."

The words were neutral and could have been said kindly by someone like Remus or Molly. While Snape had not raised his voice above a low, quiet, even expression, the tone of the words was almost threatening. It is clear there is something the fuck wrong with you, so spill your guts before I decide you're mentally compromised, She imagined him to say.

"That is very kind of you to be… concerned, sir. I assure you that I am well."

"Apart from your incessant staring at me, I have caught you daydreaming, Granger- or hallucinating as it may be- in my class. Thankfully, I am spared much hoisting of a hand at full mast or rote recitation of textbooks, but it is still distracting enough to inquire about."

She flushed. "I have not been daydreaming, Professor." She couldn't help but answer a bit forcefully. Hermione Granger was intelligent, but she still had the famous Gryffindor temper. "A normal person calls it thinking deeply."

Snape came further forward at that, towering over her, centimeters from touching her. The hairs on her arms bristled in anticipation and hope.

"Oh, but I am not a normal person, Miss Granger." He whispered menacingly. "I am a Death Eater, a spy, and a Legilimens, as Potter has surely told you." His dark eyes bored into hers as he continued speaking softly. Her heart pounded into her ears as she gazed into the dark waters of his eyes. "What are you thinking about in class? Is it about the mission?"

In an instant, it seemed to Hermione as if the room was spinning around her while she was trapped in the midst of it. She couldn't blink or look away from his eyes.

Then she saw the image that kept playing in her head. It had been making her flush every time her mind wandered too much during class… or in the quiet of her room. Just last night she had closed her curtains and her eyes and slipped a hand below the duvet, throwing her head back as she moved her fingers gently over her body, recalling the memory.

Severus at night in the window alcove.

Severus holding her against the wall.

Severus laughing in delight to see her.

Severus saying her name with a groan of relief.

Severus pulling her to him and kissing her passionately.

Severus with his hands tight against her back.

Severus running his hands through her curls.

Severus furiously unbuttoning her blouse.

Then as soon as it had begun, it was over. She found herself panting, holding herself up against the wall with one arm. She looked up and saw that Professor Snape was no longer standing directly before her but had backed up to the far wall next to the door and was leaning back against it.

His face was the typical cool mask, but Hermione had the advantage of having seen this look before. This is exactly how he had appeared when he confronted her in the Shrieking Shack about her future counterpart's whereabouts.

He looked absolutely terrified.

"What was that?" He whispered.

The master Legilimens had indeed seen into her mind. I must have been able to push him out just in time. Sweet Merlin, thank goodness he didn't see the Time-Turner part.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." This had to be the worst lie she'd ever told. Her face felt as red as a tomato, and her hair seemed to have frizzed almost instantaneously as her body heat stoked the humidity around her.

"Tell me."

"What- and if I don't, you'll go looking for the answer again?" She spat this out furiously, her eyes starting to itch. She pleaded with her body not to cry in front of him.

"No." She was almost gleeful to see this response had unsettled him somewhat and he appeared thoughtfully subdued.

"Are we done, sir? Can I go?"

He simply stared at her. Apart from terror, she couldn't read the emotion in his eyes.

Finally, after she was sure she would cry, he replied.

"It is almost nine." This was all he said by way of explanation before sweeping out of the room, not even pulling down his sleeves or taking the tie out of his hair.

Hermione stood stunned for a moment before quietly tidying up the workspace with her shaking hands, sure Snape would find a way to blame her if it were left in disarray.

Severus slammed the door to his quarters and warded them as strongly as he could before stripping out of his outer black garments and throwing himself into a chair by the fire. With a quick Accio, a bottle of Firewhiskey came to join him. Not having summoned a glass, he uncorked the bottle and took a deep swig before lowering it. Damn, that's good.

He sighed languidly. He knew he could finish the bottle tonight and still take a sober-up potion in the morning. Breakfast in the Great Hall would be an ordeal, but he would be alert and oriented in time for class.

He set the bottle down beside the chair and leaned forward, staring into the fire. There was plenty of time for drinking after he had thought everything through.

She fancied him… now? Albus hadn't primed her, told her that she would travel back in time and meet him?

Even if the Headmaster had interfered somehow, it didn't matter. What Severus had seen in her mind was a fantasy born out of genuine desire, for it was a vision conjured up as strongly as a memory would be. She wanted him to hold her and kiss her. Perhaps more, if the end of that daydream was any indication.

Severus continued staring into the crackling flames.

Does this change anything?

Yes! This changes everything!

Perhaps it wasn't just an assignment. Maybe you weren't only collateral damage.

He lowered his head and held it in his hands, groaning inwardly. He wanted her, he wanted her still, after all this time. What it had done to him to see her fantasies… He had to drink the feeling away before he gave in and stroked his aching cock to completion while thinking of her. He had refused to do so in years, shamefully beating his pillow with his fists and weeping in loneliness after the last time.

After she had arrived as a first year and he had learned the complete truth, he had vacillated between missing the Hermione he had known and despising her machinations. He had lately believed it was better not to miss her. She was his student, after all, and she had never truly been his, had she.

If anything, this makes it harder, knowing her desire. It's easier to hate her and believe her a manipulative seductress than to take second fiddle to another for this many years.

He shook his head and picked up the bottle again, trying to drudge up reasons to be angry at her, now finally knowing her attraction wasn't faked. He had already grudgingly ignored the lies, understanding the necessity of her giving him only half-truths at the time. She desires you, but that is all. How could you be anything else? At the very least, she knowingly made you a lecher. She knew you first as teacher.

He took another long swig, before releasing the bottle and bringing it down again.

No, it doesn't mean anything to her but lust. Remember her Patronus, after all. You've never had her heart.

He scowled.

Albus must have picked her to go back because he sensed her hot-for-teacher problem and he used that to his advantage. What better way to keep an eye on both Gryffindors and Slytherins? Marauders and potential Death Eaters? Pick the Gryffindor swot with a naughty attraction to the damaged bad boy.

Further disgusted, Severus resolved himself.

He had to know for sure. He couldn't spend any more time mistaken about the root of her desire. And honestly, he was a lonely bachelor destined to be wanted for murder by the end of the school year. Who was he to disdain her sick student-teacher fantasy? Even if said fantasy had utterly destroyed him. Look at who Severus Snape was; he should take what he could get.

Decision made; he lifted his head up.

He would finish the bottle tonight.