"No!" Severus clung to the tiny strand of self-control he still possessed. He shook his head as if to get rid of an irritating sound, and whirled around. He made a bee-line to the office door and slammed it shut behind him. There he paced while his Occlumency flared up, again and again, to block out Hermione's feelings. But by now there was more than her arousal alone. His body reacted to what she experienced, Occlumency was close to useless. And only made it worse anyway.

Eventually, he propped himself onto the backrest of his armchair and lowered his head just as Hermione had done a few days ago. Breathe! It had been a long time since his body and his mind had been so fiercely at odds. He didn't want to have sex with Hermione Granger! And yet he wanted it.

Barely two minutes later the door opened and Hermione entered.

"Go away!" he hissed and backed off towards the unlit fireplace.

"That won't make it any better," she countered. "The connection's always there, as you know."

Severus huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Yes, the bloody connection was always there – but it was better when Hermione wasn't! "How long does this last?" he heard himself ask.

"A few days."

"A few days?", he reiterated and sounded stunned even to his own ears.

"Not that intensely, but yes. That's ovulation …" Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her through the thrumming of his heartbeat.

"Ovulation," he growled snidely.

"Yes. I'm a woman of childbearing age. Unfortunately, I can't turn off such annoying aspects as my ovulation. You better get used to it."

Severus stared at her. Several days. Regularly. He'd lose his bloody mind! "Come here!" he ordered and pointed at a spot right in front of him.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What are you planning to do, Severus?"

"Whatever is necessary to end this! I will not walk around like this for days!" He pulled his cloak back and cool air touched his upper body, now only clad in a thin button-down shirt. He breathed a sigh of relief.

But Hermione's gaze wandered along his body in confusion, roving across his lower body he'd hidden behind his cloak the whole day. In the darkness of his office she at first didn't seem to understand what he meant but after a few seconds, her brain figured out the lights and shadows in his crotch and her eyes went wide. Blushing, she covered her face with her hands. "Holy hippogriff …"

Severus scoffed and put his hands on his hips.

"I-Isn't there a potion for this?" she stammered and turned halfway around before dropping her hands. Her face was still a deep red but as ashamed as she was, her arousal had increased. Severus didn't even need the connection, he could see her rubbing her thighs against each other – although she tried to hide it.

"If you're keen on headaches …" he drawled.

"No, I'm not." She rubbed her temples.

Another feeling reached him. Was that … Was that desperation? Severus arched his eyebrow. "Isn't this what you want from me?" He spread his arms and his movement led Hermione to throw a quick glance at him, but she avoided his face.

"Could you please … keep your arms down?"

"So shy?" he mocked. More arousal. He scrunched his nose.

"No, so unrestrained." She cleared her throat and crossed her arms. "Listen, that's not how I want any of this!"

"No?" he remarked acidly and pulled the cloak back in front of his body. "This will be your only opportunity."

"I know!" she snapped and wrinkled her nose. "I know that you don't return my feelings and never intend to do so! No need to rub it in again and again!"

He stabilized himself at the wall beside the fireplace and lowered his head. He had to calm down. Fighting wouldn't help matters. So, sex wasn't up for debate. But they had to do something. He'd tried one or two things in the morning but nothing he did could change Hermione's feelings. She would have to … "Cold shower?"

Hermione's expression relaxed a bit but she shook her head. "Doesn't help, tried it already."

"Masturbate?"

"Severus!" She looked at him indignantly.

"As long as it helps I'm fine with everything," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not!" she hissed. "I won't … masturbate while you're in my mind!"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine." And went to his storage cupboard only to return to her with a small glass in which he'd counted eight drops of a potion, filled up with water. He held up right in front of her eyes.

"What is this?"

"Draught of Living Death. If you're able to feel anything after taking this then I'm at a loss. Down it!"

Hermione regarded him skeptically.

"Afraid I could have brewed it incorrectly?" She dropped her gaze guiltily. "At this point, I'm not thinking about killing you. But if this won't stop soon that sentiment might change …"

She grimaced sullenly and took the glass. "What if it reacts to the connection like the other potion I tried?"

"Unlikely. The Draught of Living Death doesn't have an impact on your feelings or the connection. You will just sleep like you - at least occasionally - do anyway. It won't have any side effects." He turned around and transfigured the settee into a bed again. If that was about to happen frequently he should probably stop transfiguring it back.

But Hermione hesitated. She hesitated because it was a radical measure. At least if one was young and had few experiences with potions yet. Her desperate gaze found him and Severus sighed. "I will take care of you," he promised. And then she lifted the glass to her mouth and downed it in one big gulp.

Severus barely managed to catch her. The potion took effect quickly. "You could at least have sat down first," he growled and carried her to the bed. Like a puppet, he draped her on the mattress and made sure she wouldn't be in pain later.

Then he backed off and sat down on the table. She seemed peaceful and relieved and he, too, felt the arousal subside.

It left a bitter emptiness.

A few minutes later Severus returned to the lab and tended to the potion they'd been working on. The disruption had completely ruined it. He vanished the content of the cauldron with a soft "Evanesco!" and started anew. If the whole matter with Hermione's emotions continued like this even his break from teaching wouldn't get them anywhere.

He began preparing the ingredients. A few of the ones Hermione had worked on were still fine to use, the others were easy to take care of. He had a routine with ingredients; after decades in this profession, he didn't have to put much effort into the basics anymore. He let his thoughts wander, pondered on the modifications he wanted to try this time, and already took a breath to ask Hermione about one of them – when he remembered she was not there.

Severus stopped and looked around the quiet lab. It had been a while since he'd worked here on his own. All the time he'd missed it. And now … he missed her.

And not only in the lab! Even his mind felt … empty, now her emotions were silent. Severus frowned while he cut up the mandrake. The knife slid smoothly through the nodule, he barely felt any resistance. Since he'd sensed the connection between their minds he'd wished for it to be gone. And now … he missed it? Ridiculous!

He'd spent years silencing his feelings. He'd almost abused Occlumency to distance himself from them because he couldn't afford to make the wrong decisions. And since Hermione's arousal alone had been enough to let him seriously consider having sex with her, it obviously had been necessary. Merlin alone knew where he'd be today if he hadn't chosen the silence of not feeling most of the time.

And now he missed the riot of her emotions? After not even … He glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes! After not even fifteen damn minutes in the silence of his mind, he missed it to sense her feelings?

Severus squinted his eyes and grabbed the horned slugs, cutting them a little more violently than strictly necessary.

That was really ridiculous. And unacceptable. He obviously didn't get along with her emotions. Hadn't he remembered the Draught of Living Death just in time he would have savaged her like a lust-ridden teenager! And she probably wouldn't have resisted for long. Unimaginable what consequences that would have had – both for her soul and his peace of mind.

Severus charmed the water in the cauldron to boil and pitched in the cut-up slugs. The water changed color to purple.

Still. This emptiness … He wasn't comfortable with it anymore. He frowned. Maybe … Maybe no emotions weren't really better than … an excess of emotions? Maybe he'd stop being so unpleasantly restless when he knew what he was running from. Maybe he'd stop standing here so awfully strung up if he'd admit that he got used to Hermione's presence in his mind alarmingly quickly.

At this point in his musings, he threw the knife away and used a stabilising charm to preserve the potion. What was happening to him? He missed Hermione's emotions?

Hermione's emotions?

He paced through the lab and stopped in front of the door leading to his office, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.

And before he even realised what he was doing he'd returned to his office. Hermione was like he'd left her. The potion had put her into a kind of comatose sleep she wouldn't awake from anytime soon; he'd dosed the vials for eight hours of sleep. Slowly he approached the bed and regarded her.

Had he ever seen her as a woman? As a woman that maybe was … endearing? Had he ever, even after her confession, considered that she had the potential to spark similar feelings in … him?

No. No, he had not. He had not because he could not afford to do so. Because he was a spy and every person he was close with was dangerous. He had to make hard decisions. He had to let people die if it would cost him his cover to save them. He needed a clear mind to make these decisions. A mind that didn't react with pain, sorrow, despair or rage when he made them. A mind that was …

Empty.

Severus crouched down beside the bed and listened to his heartbeat for a few seconds, watching the slow rise and fall of Hermione's chest. Yes, she was a woman. One he maybe really could see as potentially endearing someday. And it could cost him his life to allow seeing her like that.

He reached out and swept a strand of hair over her shoulder. At the small touch, something stirred in him, like an echo of the last days. It vibrated through his mind and disappeared when he pulled his hand back. But it had been there. And it had neither felt foreign nor had it been repugnant.

When Hermione opened her eyes the next morning, he'd already watched her for a while, waiting for her to wake up. The potion's effect had faded a few hours ago already but obviously, she'd needed some more sleep. He had transformed the armchair so he could almost lie in it and had stayed there for the night instead of retreating to his bedroom. He had promised to take care of her.

Now she blinked and slowly moved her arms and legs. The way she grimaced while doing so and the echo of pain he sensed, told him he hadn't positioned her ideally. She groaned softly, falling back onto the bed.

"Good morning," Severus said in a deep voice and was relieved when no wave of arousal hit him.

She looked at him, a tiny surge of adrenalin rolling through her mind and his. "Morning," she mumbled and turned to her side. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "What time is it?"

Severus glanced at the clock. "Almost seven."

"Morning or evening?"

"Morning."

She raised her eyebrows. "Very potent potion."

"It is." He smiled. Which sparked something within Hermione. No arousal but … feelings. A lot of feelings. Severus sighed and closed his eyes, twisting his face, and instinctively used a little bit of Occlumency to protect himself. He couldn't help it, it was a reflex. It took him a few seconds to let go of it.

"I'm sorry. I'm not completely awake yet," Hermione said and the blanket sizzled when she raised a hand and ran it over her face. "But at least the arousal has gone."

Which was such a nonsensical remark that Severus laughed softly. Longer than normal and Hermione looked at him as if he'd just grown a second head – which made him laugh even longer.

"What's so funny?" she asked frowning.

Severus cleared his throat and ran a hand across his mouth. "I don't know. It was a … crazy night."

Hermione looked at him for a long time. The more awake she was the more the chaos of emotions that reached him settled down. He couldn't exactly say what she was feeling right now; he wasn't familiar with this emotion. But it wasn't uncomfortable. And then a feeling rose he very much was familiar with: longing. Apparently, she saw something in him that strengthened her longing to be close to him, maybe even to touch him. It was a burning sensation in his chest.

"Why does one endure this?" he asked right into this moment.

"Why does one endure what?"

"Unrequited love for someone like me. Why does one sink into the love for a person that is obviously nasty and misanthropic?"

Hermione smiled at his description of himself but she didn't disagree. Instead, she sat up and combed through her hair. "You're not ready for an answer to this question, Severus."

Now he looked at her for a long time. "Probably."

Hermione yawned. "I'm not averse to breakfast. What about you?"

"I'll take care of it while you're in the bathroom."

She smiled at him and rose, passed him on unsteady legs.

Severus however stayed in the armchair, staring at the spot she just had been lying.

He attended breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning. Not by his choice. No, Hermione plagued him with loneliness that had no equal.

Normally he wouldn't have had a hard time enduring this emotion. Loneliness had been a constant companion in his childhood. So much he'd finally learned to accept it. But his night had been … gruelling.

Hermione wasn't the only one afflicted by nightmares. The difference was, he suffered from them not that frequently anymore. Sensing her emotions all the time had brought back this issue though. This night he'd been with the Dark Lord. This night the Dark Lord had ravaged his mind. He'd found Hermione – both in his mind and in person. He'd tortured and killed her in front of him and Severus had felt it. All just because he hadn't been able to hide the connection from the Dark Lord. It had all been his fault and a part of him had died with her.

This dream stuck with him like old sweat. And if he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that, no, it wasn't just her loneliness that had lured him into the Great Hall. It also was his need to see her. To see she was well. That it had only been a dream.

When he sat down at Pomona's side his gaze wandered over the students already sitting at the Gryffindor table. Although Hermione wasn't a student anymore she ate there as a matter of course. But she wasn't there yet.

"You're looking tired," Pomona said and distracted him from the Gryffindors.

"Mh," Severus growled monosyllabically. He reached for the toast although he wasn't hungry. He met her gaze belatedly and sighed silently when he noticed the genuine worry in it. Not yet another woman besieging him with her feelings … Couldn't they just stop it? "I'm fine," he said.

Pomona frowned. And laid her hand on his arm. Severus froze mid-movement and stared at the hand. The short bulky fingers were laced with little cuts and scratches. Dark rims were underneath her nails. She said nothing. She just squeezed his arm and pulled her hand away, returning to her breakfast as if nothing had happened.

Now Severus stared at her. What the hell had that been? Had everyone around him decided to go mental? Was there a sign on his forehead? He wrinkled his nose and looked back at the Gryffindor students. Now he found Hermione's curly head at the end of the table. And breathed a sigh of relief. As if a too-tightly strapped belt around his chest had loosened.

He stared at her sourly until she felt observed and looked around. She found his gaze and Severus struggled with a smile. A selfish smile through and through because when she saw it the loneliness subsided a little bit.