It was like … a wave rushing towards him that he expected to withstand until it swept him off his feet. It was the ground suddenly giving away under him and the ice-cold feeling of falling. It was the Stupefy he thought dodged still hitting him right in the chest. It was … daunting.

The impact of the foreign emotions hit Severus so hard they shook him even sitting down. What he felt from Hermione was almost physically painful. He grabbed his head and raised his Occlumency so suddenly she gasped. She doubtlessly would have stumbled back if she hadn't been laying down on the couch already.

They were silent for a few seconds and Severus listened to the pounding of his heart, panting. Then Hermione struggled to get up, muttering "Told you so", attempting to leave. She failed, was obviously dizzy again, sank back. The glass slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor, the cold water sloshed over his feet.

"Stop using Occlumency!" he demanded again and vanished the water, picked up the glass.

She closed her eyes sullenly and coiled up on her side, burying her face behind her arms. She shook her head no but as he lowered his Occlumency he found her emotions lying completely bare.

Slowly Severus opened up his mind and let them fill him. They were so strong … He had never experienced emotions so strong. He didn't expect anybody to have such strong emotions. There had been times in which he'd thought his emotions unbearable but this … He closed his eyes and drifted through them for a while before he tried to understand.

He knew he wouldn't come far. He had never exerted himself to find words for his emotions. Nobody ever asked him to. For him, they had always only been what felt bad. Or better. Or what he somehow never was able to pin down. But for the strongest of Hermione's emotions, he knew words because he knew exactly this emotion: unrequited love.

He wished that had been everything … The foreign emotions rushed through his mind like a hot overwhelming stream and his body reacted to it. His heart pounded heavily, his breath was way too fast, he felt twitchy and restless. Severus huffed softly. Blood magic came at a cost and this was obviously the cost of his life.

"Is it always that intense?" he asked hoarsely and ran a hand across his mouth.

Again she shook her head no, looked away. "Normally I'm able to … control it. Work with it." She pulled her arms away, her cheeks damp. "I'm not a victim to my feelings, Severus. But this …" She swallowed thickly.

She had a price to pay as well. He closed his eyes. This damn love was so strong he had to resist the urge to sit down on his hands. They literally tingled from the need to touch her. Why had she let this happen? Why had she allowed these emotions to evolve? No matter how intense they normally were – this was awful!

"Why don't you do anything about it?" he asked.

"What should I do?" she asked huskily. "I tried so hard to not let it happen. I knew it would be … masochistic to fall for you. I really didn't want to let it happen."

Another wave hit him. Frustration. He knew that one, too. Severus wrinkled his nose. "That's not what I mean," he said. "There are potions for it."

"Yes," she scoffed, "I tried them. The headache was … awful. I never experienced something like that. As a child I sometimes had migraines but they were harmless compared to that. I will not try it again."

Severus shoved her emotions a fraction away. He had to think. What potion had Albus given to her so carelessly? Blood Magic, okay. But had it been Dark Magic? Probably on the edge of it. Albus wouldn't have let her practise full-blown Dark Magic.

Would he?

No. He silenced that thought. And he guessed Hermione hadn't tried Dark Magic to control her feelings either. So they couldn't face Albus's potion with White Magic. Severus went through all of the Dark potions he knew regarding emotional control or oppression. But they all had side effects. Bad side effects. Most of them would make Hermione a psychopath and nobody wanted that. A mastermind like her no longer guided by morality? No, thank you very much.

But even those that wouldn't touch her morality would change her personality. Would rob her of the ability to love. There was no potion, Dark or not, no charm to solve this problem.

There he dropped his gaze, experiencing a sudden surge of respect for her. For still being here in spite of those overwhelming emotions. She was here and worked with him on these potions and tried to preserve a little dignity although he was in her mind right now and knew exactly into which hell his rescue had brought her. She did it although he had berated her. She did it although he kept his cold distance.

Another emotion washed through his mind. Disappointment. He looked at her. She had wrinkled her nose a little, eyes closed. What was it that disappointed her so much? He? His decision to leave her alone in her hell because he had refused to listen to her? Or her inability to just leave?

Whatever it was he could no longer ignore it. She was in this situation because of him. And because of Albus who had ruthlessly used her like a damn chess piece. Sacrifices had to be made, hadn't they? But ultimately she was in this situation because of him.

Severus cocked his head and examined her. The freckles, dark against her pale skin. Her eyelashes brushing her cheeks. The tiny scar above her left eyebrow. The wild hair. Like a lion's mane. The pale lips. The exhaustion.

He clenched his teeth and reached for her shoulder, squeezing it softly. Hermione tore her eyes open and stared at him. These eyes … For a moment Severus couldn't breathe. She frowned. Not from anger though. There was none of that. But … bewilderment. And … He felt … something. Something that felt … good? Yes. At least better than … Something that wanted to make him smile but at the same time not.

Hermione sighed when she saw his twitching mouth and leaned her cheek against his hand. Her skin was so soft. Never had he thought that it might feel so good. He hesitantly stretched his fingers further down her shoulder and her hair tickled his wrist. He closed his eyes, drunken by the feeling of … well, what was that again?

It shivered through his body, making him fidgety and calm all at once. It made him wish to remain like this and don't pull back. It pulsed and flowed. It made his skin warmer and his senses sharper, forced him to focus on this exact moment …

Eventually, his mind found an at least almost fitting word: satisfaction.

"What are you doing?" Hermione whispered.

"I'm making it better."

A little while later they sat opposite each other over tea and scones. He'd given Hermione a Strengthening Solution that had helped her dizziness. Now her fingers were clenched around her mug and Severus could almost see how she soaked up the heat. "No Occlumency," he said as if ending a conversation. Yet they hadn't spoken a word for at least ten minutes.

"Why not?"

"Because you're doing it wrong."

She rolled her eyes. "And you? Will you stop using Occlumency as well?"

"Yes," he said without looking at her.

"Why?"

Severus frowned and exhaled sharply. "It's been half an hour since I stopped blocking you. I don't know about your side but I have the impression the intensity of your emotions decreased."

Hermione grimaced. "Yes, it has."

He nodded. "I hate to admit it but I guess Albus was right. We shouldn't block the connection. Maybe the intensity of your feelings will … continue to normalise."

She swallowed, looking down at her mug. "I don't think so." She bit the inside of her lip when she cast him a quick glance. "They got stronger when I administered you the potion. Not as strong as they were earlier but … stronger."

He twisted his mouth. Would've been too easy. "No Occlumency," he repeated nevertheless.

She sighed. "No Occlumency."

Severus knew exactly what that meant. She would keep Occlumency in the back of her mind – and so would he. But he stood by his decision. It was better to not permanently block the connection. But if a situation called for it he would make an exception.

"Do you think there's another option than this ritual to break the connection?" her voice cut into his thoughts.

He leaned back and took a deep breath. "Not before its time, no. Albus said it would vanish by itself. I hope he's right."

She thought about his words. "Do you think the magic wants something from us? I mean … does something have to happen for the connection to vanish?"

"Probably. After all, it gave us something."

Hermione rubbed her forehead.

"It's the price, Hermione. I was doomed to die and you pulled me back to life. You don't get that without payment."

She wrinkled her nose but said nothing. Instead, she stared down at her mug again. "I'm sorry I put you in this situation."

"Stop excusing yourself. We already discussed that." He'd like to tell her it was okay but it wasn't. And he wouldn't lie to her. She'd made a decision that hadn't been hers to make. Now they had to take responsibility for it. Both of them. He knew this feeling. It had the power to keep you awake at night.

"I thought it wouldn't hurt mentioning it again." She blushed.

"Only if you want to get on my nerves."

"I would never do that," she mumbled and took a sip of her tea. "Do you have an idea what's the purpose of this connection?"

She looked at him like she used to back in her school days. He'd always hated it. As if she wanted to suck the knowledge out of him. Hermione used her very own Legilimency and he didn't know a defense against that. His lip twitched. "No."

Hermione frowned. "What were you just thinking?"

"I thought about you." He put his mug on the table. "About your insatiable desire to gain knowledge. About your way of … trying to suck it right from someone's mind." He grimaced.

Hermione pursed her lips. "The way you say it makes it sound like something … vile."

"Mostly it is obtrusive," he said standing. He went to the cupboard with potions he stored in his office. At least the ones that were stable at room temperature and slightly beneath. The other ones were lined up in an alcove in the dungeon wall.

A wave rolled through his mind. A wave that let him briefly close his eyes because he knew it. He felt exactly like that back then. When he'd called Lily a Mudblood. Shame. What a way to start. Did he really have to be attentive about everything he said to her now? How arduous. "Calm down," he snarled over his shoulder, "I already got used to it." Eventually, he found what he'd been looking for. A little dark blue vial he took back to Hermione.

She stared at him wide-eyed, the blush on her cheeks had deepened.

"You are allowed to breathe," he said matter-of-factly.

She let out the air she'd been holding. "I have to get used to … you answering to my feelings."

"Yes," he growled, "I have to get used to you answering with feelings." He rolled his eyes. Then he handed her the vial. "Drink this before you go to sleep."

"What is it?" She put her mug down and took the vial. Briefly, their hands touched and Severus noticed a reaction to that, too. A little rush of adrenalin. He pursed his lips.

"Figure it out!" he said coolly. He would teach her to react less intensely if the connection lasted long enough.

But for now, she uncorked the vial and sniffed at it. The first whiff had barely reached her nose when she already scrunched it up and resolutely put the stopper back into the small neck of the vial. "That smells hideous! I won't drink that!"

He smirked. "You have to take a longer whiff of it."

She eyed him suspiciously. Reluctantly she opened the vial once more and held it to her nose. She grimaced as he'd never seen before. Groaned. "That smells like … Ron's old socks after a ghoul snuggled with them for a few days." Severus snorted. Then her expression changed.

It was apples for him. Fruity and a little sour, but not too strong to become unpleasant. He could almost smell it only by thinking of it. He was curious about what Hermione scented. "Well?" he inquired.

"Flowers."

"Flowers are a wide field."

She took another sniff. "I know that scent but …" She shook her head and inhaled again. Her face brightened up. "Magnolias." Her gaze flew to him and she beamed.

Severus smiled. "Magnolias," he echoed as if he had known it all along.

"But now I still don't know what this potion does."

"You do. Where do you know the scent of magnolias from?"

Her eyes went blank for a moment. "My grandma had magnolias in her garden. The smell was everywhere when they blossomed." An emotion swelled in her and in Severus. So fiercely he held his breath. He hadn't expected that.

"And … is it a good memory?"

"Yes, a very good. My grandma was … everything my parents couldn't be. Silly when she played with me. Indulgent when I needed it. And …" She searched for the right word. "… unconditionally loving." She twisted the vial in her hands with a sad smile.

Now the wave of emotions was so strong he literally couldn't breathe for a moment. He had to fight the urge to use Occlumency. Yet it wasn't sorrow Hermione felt. They were … good emotions. Of course. Otherwise, the potion hadn't reminded her of them. But even those were stronger than he had guessed. Much stronger. If he had anticipated how extremely she would react to that potion he had not given it to her. Her feelings sparked feelings in him. His stomach clenched. That was even worse than sorrow. He knew sorrow, he could handle it. But this? He shook his head. He didn't know that. Not like this. When he took the potion after a particularly exhausting Death Eater meeting to get rid of what stuck to him it felt nice. But with Hermione … Only the smell produced an intensity of feelings he had never experienced. And likely never would. He swallowed. Cleared his throat and tried to hide it. "If you take a look at what the potion triggers in you, you will understand the purpose of it." He forced the words out.

"It makes me … feel comfortable."

Comfortable. He snorted. No, that wasn't it. The potion made him feel comfortable. But her … Well, he wouldn't discuss that now. She should go and take the potion and give him a break. "If you take it before you go to sleep you will have a very good night." Again something swashed through his mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Did this woman never stop feeling? He twisted his face. "You're welcome," he growled.

She blushed. "Um … I should go." Her gaze swayed to the clock on the wall. It was just before eleven.

"You should, indeed." He stood and escorted her to the door.

Hermione slipped past him but stopped at the threshold. She gripped the vial tightly when she looked at him. Again her gaze hit him somewhere beneath his sternum. "See you tomorrow," she finally said and finished that strange moment.

"Yes," he said. But it didn't sound as grumpy as he intended it to.

Hermione smiled and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

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