Hermione let herself into his office when he didn't answer. He wasn't always right there waiting for her as when they first started the occlumency lessons in September. She knew he had a private lab behind a door in his office. He'd admitted to selling potions and working on a few of his own creations. She was incredibly curious about those creations, but even she knew there was a time and place for everything. This was not the time to settle her curiosities when he was doing something for her and, ultimately, for Harry. There had to be a reason he chose now to teach her occlumency. She didn't claim to know him well, but believed she knew him well enough by this her sixth year and these past few months of private lessons to know that he wouldn't just randomly offer to teach her such a thing. He just didn't strike her as the type to waste his time teaching her something unnecessarily. She was quite certain there were better things he could find to do with the times of these sessions.

There had to be a reason. He just hadn't told her what that reason was, and she hadn't been able to figure it out beyond he hoped she could learn to pass the knowledge onto Harry.

"Professor," she called out.

Nothing.

The doors were closed leading to both his lab and his quarters. He had some tests on his desk she noticed, but nothing looked out of the ordinary as she set her bag on the floor next to the chair she usually sat in for their lessons. His jar of red ink was there, but it had not been opened yet to reflect he'd started on the grading.

Okay, well, so he was running later than she was and that was terribly uncharacteristic of him, but he was offering to teach her something so few, if any, others could.

So, she'd wait.

She pulled out her copy of The Crucible he'd returned to her in September and started reading once again about Abigail Williams and the goings on in Salem three centuries ago. She brought it with her everywhere she went, not necessarily to read it but simply to touch it. She wasn't sure what it was about the book, but it brought her comfort.

A connection to him.

Was that creepy?

Weird?

She wasn't sure, but she accepted the comfort the book and his connection to it brought her. She certainly wouldn't tell anyone about it! She didn't think it was creepy or weird, but realized others probably would.

Months into these lessons and plus the time she'd spent with him outside of school several times over the years. Well, she was through denying she had a crush on the wizard. Forget crush, she was pretty sure she was on her way to loving him. He took her recommended book, and he'd read it! Not only that, but he gave her, and recommended, books to read that weren't shallow or geared toward mindless teenagers.

And he'd agreed to watch The Firm with her over the upcoming Christmas holidays. Her parents had finally gotten back to her on evenings they'd be occupied. She couldn't prod for a response without seeming as if she was hiding something. She wasn't really. They were doing nothing wrong, but she wanted to do something extraordinarily common and muggle with him. The museum and library weren't the same as a video cassette player and popcorn at home on the couch.

Her gaze fell to her watch when she realized she wasn't actually reading anything due to her distraction. He was almost an hour late now, and that was not at all like him.

She stood then and went to the door leading to his quarters. She knocked with her right hand, reaching for the knob with her left. "Professor Snape?"

She was shocked when the door opened for her because she knew he had to have it heavily warded. In fact, she was surprised now that she thought about it that she could even see the doors because until this fall they had not been visible. Not only that, but unless she was mistaken they were visible only to her. Otherwise, every student would know how to get to his quarters.

Time for that Gryffindor bravery.

"Professor Snape?" she called again, stepping over the threshold. She shivered as the sense of … acceptance washed over her. Did his wards recognize her? That made no sense, but she knew what it felt like from her time at Grimmauld Place and The Burrow.

She was distracted from her thoughts on wards and how she should feel about his accepting her by what sounded like a moan coming from further in his quarters.

"Hello?" she called out. "Professor?"

Another moan.

She made her way in that direction, her wand at the ready. Ready for what, she wasn't sure but his room was in the dungeons so it was dark.

"Lumos," she whispered and gasped when she saw her professor barely leaning his head up against the wall. He wasn't wearing his usual black robes and looked as if he'd been in a fight. She gasped again, louder this time, when she spotted the Death Eater mask by his hand on the floor.

So he'd been summoned, she thought sourly though there was relief there, too. He hadn't stood her up.

She rolled her eyes at that thought.

Stood her up.

It wasn't a date, Hermione, it was a lesson.

She knelt beside him, running her wand over him to try and determine what was wrong. He'd gotten here, so he couldn't have been too bad off. Of course she had no idea how long he'd been sitting here. Nothing came up broken and there was no internal bleeding. Of course, that was assuming she was doing the right spell and reading the diagnostics correctly. She'd never had reason to before and only had her memory to go by.

Oh, why didn't they offer a class in First Aid and Healing?

She ran the diagnostics again with the same results, so she cast a light healing spell. She hoped it would at least get him conscious. She looked up in a panic, not sure what to do from here. His face needed to be cleaned for sure, as did his hands. She couldn't see any other parts of him to know if he was bleeding elsewhere.

She stood, brushing her palms over her denims (about a month ago he'd told her she could dress casually for their lessons) and made her way toward the door she guessed led to his bedroom. If he killed her for going in there, well that was a risk she was willing to take as she didn't know what else to do. She couldn't just leave him there like that! Never mind her feelings for the man, she wouldn't leave anyone in the state he was in currently, not even Draco Malfoy.

She found a flannel in the bathroom, dampening it with warm water before making her way to his kitchen area. There she got a bowl, filling it with water as warm as she could take. She found an aloe plant of all things and used her wand to snip off one of the leaves as she didn't see anything else readily available to her that was a healing aid. He probably had some healing potions around somewhere, but she was not about to look through his personal things. She doubted he'd appreciate that no matter how valid her reasons for doing so might be.

She returned to him with the flannel and bowl of water with some of the aloe plant's offering added to it. She still had more she could apply to him directly. She sat beside him, sighing heavily as he still hadn't come to. She wrung the flannel out over the bowl before touching it against his face. She winced instinctively. He reacted a bit, which made her feel horrible.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "So sorry."

She tried to stifle the little bit of pleasure that came from touching him even if it was with a flannel between her hand and his skin. She doubted anyone else got this close to him, other than Madam Pomfrey of course.

"Mm," he murmured. His eyes fluttered as if he was trying to open them.

"Professor?"

"Miss Granger?" he mumbled.

"Yes, it's me!" She practically sobbed at him recognizing her. She wanted to hug him from the relief, but (barely) refrained knowing he wouldn't appreciate it.

"You're not real."

"Of course I'm real, Professor Snape. I should be giving you a good what have you for missing our lesson tonight."

She hoped he wouldn't hex her later for talking in such a fashion to him.

He huffed softly at that.

"Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

She continued cleaning his face of the blood and dirt. She didn't want him to say yes, she wanted to keep caring for him but she was a little out of her comfort zone with healing.

"No, no need."

"I don't know what else to do!"

He turned his head then, opening his eyes to look at her. And he smiled. He actually smiled. Not a smirk or a stifled smile, but a real smile.

Directed at her.

Bestill my heart.

"You did fine, Miss Granger."

"I don't feel I did, but thank you. What happened?"

"Nothing worth talking about."

"I beg to differ," she said, glancing at the bowl of water that was now discolored from her efforts.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"Of course I worry, Sir."

He was quiet after that. Did her saying she worried bother him? Should she not have said it? She wasn't worried initially, no, but if one thing could be said about Severus Snape it was that he practiced what he preached when it came to punctuality. So once she had realized how late he was she'd worried.

"You found your way in," he murmured.

"Yes, Sir. I hope you're not mad. I'm not even sure how I got in."

He nodded slightly, wincing at the movement. She stood, returning to his kitchen area to rinse the flannel and get fresh water. He evidently didn't want to explain why or how she was able to get into his quarters. More questions that she knew he wouldn't give her answers to.

She sat near him again, reaching for his shirt cuffs to remove the cufflinks and roll the sleeves up so she could clean his hands off. So formal. She could only recall her father wearing cufflinks once. The wizarding world was so old fashioned when it came to some things.

He groaned again as she worked on his right hand, then switched spots so she could clean off his left.

"Miss Granger," he murmured.

"Unless you're going to apologize for standing me up I suggest you keep quiet, Sir. You know, witches scorned, hell hath no fury, and all that rot."

He let out a breath that sounded as if it may have been an attempt at a laugh, so he hopefully knew she was kidding. Or she'd get a tongue lashing and detention tomorrow when he'd had the chance to analyze not only this conversation but that she'd barged into his rooms uninvited.

She paused while wiping off his left hand.

"You," she whispered, pausing over his ring finger as both of their fingers seemed to glow. Glow and warm. She felt warmth as she'd never felt before in her life as their fingers touched. It was so much more than the feeling of cuddling under a cozy blanket. This was not external but rather something inside of her.

He had the same mark on his finger! Somehow she knew he was causing that feeling of warmth, or rather she supposed they were.

She remembered now a memory he'd shared with her while she was in the infirmary healing from Antonin Dolohov's curse. The same thing had happened to him when he was determining what he could do to aid her healing. Had he felt the warmth, too? Did he feel it now? Was it aiding him somehow? Oh, she hoped so, she wanted to help him.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he murmured, trying to bunch his fingers into a fist.

"It's magic, right?"

"Of a sort, yes," he replied.

"You saw my mark," she whispered, tracing over his mark with her fingertip. They both gasped in response.

"I did," he said.

"I stopped talking about it because no one else could see it!"

"As it's meant to be."

"I don't understand."

"Another night, Miss Granger."

"Of course, Sir," she whispered. He had to know how difficult it was to agree to let this go, but dying to get information or not she knew he wasn't in the condition.

She'd thought she was crazy for a long time when she tried to describe the mark on her finger to her parents. She had no idea what it was. She never knew of anyone who had a birthmark that only they could see! At first she thought they were lying to her, joking to ensure she washed her hands thoroughly. She eventually realized they truly didn't see it. It was a little larger and darker than a freckle and not quite circular in shape, but his was clearly the same even the location. He apparently knew what it was and meant. She'd never thought to research whether it was magical in nature after coming to Hogwarts. How very stupid of her, she realized.

He stopped trying to get away from her touch as her fingertip grazed along the length of his finger.

"It feels…"

"Yes," he murmured.

"You feel it, too?"

It was magic, but it was different than anything she'd ever experienced. The warmth made her think of coming home. Those embraces she got from her parents when they saw her for the first time in months. Only this was more.

More.

He tried to get up, but struggled to do so.

"Please let me help, Sir."

Somehow despite their height difference they managed together to get him standing and she walked with him to his bedroom.

"That will be all, Miss Granger," he said softly. He wasn't looking away from her, though, and wasn't hiding behind his hair.

She nodded simply. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No."

"And you'll be alright?"

"I've suffered worse and recovered just fine."

"That's not an answer. I want to know if you'll be alright. I think you owe me at least a direct answer on that."

His eyes widened a bit, but sighed deeply as if he acquiesced to the fact her statement was true. "I assure you that I shall be fine. You did well."

"I didn't look for any potions to help you."

"Nor would I expect you to. I'll call for an elf to assist me further."

"If you're sure."

"I am. You'll get back to your common room all right?"

"Yes."

He approached her then, murmured softly and she realized he'd cast a disillusionment spell on her.

"In the event a Slytherin looking for mischief is wandering the dungeons. Be sure to remove it before entering your common room."

"Thank you, Sir. Sleep well."

"You do the same, Hermione."

She paused at the door from his bedroom. "Do I need to do anything to the door when I leave? The wards?"

"No, they are only set to recognize you."

"Oh," she said.

"You weren't meant to discover that fact."

"I see. Well, good night," she said before leaving the room quickly.

So many questions!

She looked at her hand when she got to his office, running her thumb along her left ring finger. The tingling she'd felt was still there, but not nearly as strong. The warmth was gone and she felt a little bereft by that. Would the tingling still be there tomorrow? She kind of hoped so, it had given her comfort for some reason. It had felt … right. Old. Powerful.

She got back to the entrance to her dorm, using her wand to undo the disillusionment spell before entering. Ron and Harry were playing wizarding chess. A few others were doing other things.

"What happened to you," Ron said, regarding her.

"Nothing," she said.

"If you say so," he said.

She glanced at her hands, realizing she hadn't washed them off after helping Professor Snape to his room.

"Just a little mishap with some potion ingredients," she said with a shrug, brushing some hair out of her face.

"What do you do with the greasy git anyway?"

"Ronald," she said softly. It drove her nuts when he spoke about their professor that way. Even before she realized she LIKED him it bothered her because the man deserved their respect.

"Well?"

"He's helping me to decide what I may like to do after Hogwarts."

"Why him?"

"Because I like potions? I don't know."

"Why not Malfoy?"

"Maybe because Draco didn't ask him."

"You mean you asked him to spend every evening with him?"

"It's not every evening, Ronald. He has rounds some evenings."

"It sure seems like it," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes. "Good night."

"Good night," Harry said, seeming to not want to get in the middle of their current conversation.

"You're going to bed already?"

"I haven't seen Crooks all day."

"Who's fault is that?"

"I didn't say it was anyone's fault, but I'm going to bed."

She went upstairs and got ready for bed, joining Crookshanks on her bed. She liked coming to bed early some nights so she had the room to herself for a while.

"What are we going to do, Crooks? Do you think he's ever going to actually tell me what's going on?" She pet him, tugging lightly on his bottle brush-like tail as she stared at her left ring finger. "I bet you could tell me what's going on," she murmured, burying her head against his fur as she snuggled against him. She'd drift off eventually she knew.

July 1995

Her parents were driving her crazy. She loved them, she really did, but sometimes they were too much. She'd escaped to a nearby mall because the library just wasn't the place for her to be right now.

Her date with Viktor was going to be the bane of her existence. Truly. It wasn't bad enough everyone at Hogwarts was gossiping about them, but now her parents were practically marrying her off to the Bulgarian wizard.

"Problems, Miss Granger."

What was he doing here?

How odd.

"Professor Snape, hi. I mean no problem," she said with a soft sigh.

He didn't want to hear about her problems. Not really. He was being polite with probably a good dose of sarcasm mixed in there.

"Are you sure? You look as if you'd like to unload."

"I would, but you don't want to…"

"Why don't you let me decide what I do and don't want to do."

"It's just my parents, Sir," she said softly.

They started walking in the direction of the food court where he bought them both something to drink before they sat.

"So, parents?"

"Viktor Krum invited me to Bulgaria."

"And your parents won't let you go?"

He looked somewhat displeased at this information. Why was that?

"On the contrary, they practically offered to pack my bags for me."

"So, what's the problem?"

"I don't want to go!"

"I see," he said, though he evidently did not.

"He's nice, and I enjoyed spending time with him. At Hogwarts. I'm not sure I want to be in his home, though," she said.

"Ah," he said, nodding as if understanding.

"My parents, though," she shrugged. "I've never had a boyfriend before, so I think they assume Viktor will be my only chance and are trying to push me to him."

"Why would they assume that?"

"Well, look at me," she said, gesturing to herself.

He regarded her, but she couldn't read him well enough to know what he saw or thought.

"I see nothing wrong to where a suitor would not be in your future."

She smiled slightly. "That's almost nice of you to say, Sir. I'm afraid my parents evidently don't share in that view."

"I see. So, you're not going to Mr. Krum's?"

"No, I told him I couldn't."

"His response?"

"Was to tell me he'd try to come to England for a visit sometime."

"I see," he said.

"He's three years older than I am, out of school, and a professional quidditch player. I think he understands even if my parents don't."

"That's too large of an age gap?"

He seemed very curious as to her answer to his question. Why?

"Well, no, I don't care about the age gap. I am not even sixteen yet and still live with my parents. I'm not ready to," she shrugged.

She wasn't going to confess to her professor what all she wasn't ready for. She suspected a visit to Viktor Krum would imply a desire for things with the wizard she just didn't want. He was nice, attractive even, but she'd known deep down he wasn't her wizard. She needed someone who would challenge her mentally, he had not done that. She wasn't saving herself for marriage or anything, but she wasn't going to jump in bed with the first wizard to show her attention either.

"Understood. Spending time in close proximity with someone implies commitment, a closeness that you don't want to embark on yet."

"Yes! Exactly! I barely know him really. Maybe after some more regular correspondence."

"I see no problem with your way of thinking," he said. He sounded somewhat relieved, which seemed odd to Hermione.

"What are you doing at a mall, Professor?"

"Even I enjoy escaping once in a while, Miss Granger," he said.

"I suppose," she said, nibbling on her lower lip as she regarded him. "Were you shopping for anything in particular?"

"Not really, no."

"Thank you for the drink," she said, gesturing to her cup.

"My pleasure. Would you like to walk around some? You could tell me about some of these things I see in the store windows."

"Sure," she said, smiling brightly at him.

She wondered what Harry and Ron would think about Professor Snape being interested in muggle things. Surely that had to point to her being correct that he was, in fact, on their side and not a true Death Eater. They tended to not like or be curious about anything muggle. Of course, she wouldn't tell them. They'd find it odd or suspicious that he was at the mall in the first place, but she sure wished she could.

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com