Credits:
Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to JKR.
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Tonight You're Mine Completely Part II
Chapter 3 The Awakening

Professor Snape, having picked over his dinner, tilted his head and sat back in his chair, casting a wary eye over the laughing, chattering students. The Gryffindors and Slytherins could be relied upon to cause mischief, and as the self-appointed watchdog, Snape felt duty bound to keep an eye on the bane of his existence and circumvent any troublesome outbreaks. He could not recall the last time this happened in the Great Hall during meals, but he knew what these hormonally charged adolescents were capable of doing.

A smirk of perverse pleasure crossed his hook-nosed, sallow-faced features as his eyes roved over the inseparable trio, and he noted what appeared to be a rift. His inseparable companions, Weasley and Granger apparently were ostracizing Potter, who was usually the centre of their attention. The anger and resentment that had been building all day bubbled to the surface seeking release as Snape scrutinized Potter. While cogitating on the source of the trio's separation, his attention was drawn to Granger as she threw Potter a dark glare, then moved closer to Weasley, engaging him in a private conversation. Snape focused his pent-up feelings on the huddled couple.

'Any closer and you would be sitting in his lap,' he thought resentfully, his frustration mounting as he continued glowering at them. 'Only a few short weeks ago.' he reminded himself, 'you were all cosy with Krum in London. Then you return to Hogwarts, prance around my classroom as if you owned it, and now you brazenly flirt with Weasley. Granger, I will not tolerate such a shameless display of affection in my potions assistant,' he thought, folding his arms across his chest.

Apparently, there'd been a falling-out, no doubt over Potter's newly discovered prowess at potions. 'When Potter's book arrives from Flourish and Blotts, he'll be compelled to return the borrowed copy, and without my assistance, he'll fail miserably,' he thought callously.

Why couldn't Potter have been more like her - intelligent, kind, considerate - instead of taking after his father's arrogant, uppity ways?

Jaw clenched, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes trained on the pair of furtively whispering Gryffindors, Snape glared at them through gradually narrowing eyelids. He felt a twinge of resentment as Weasley bent low, close to Granger's ear and said something that caused her to turn towards him, a happy, optimistic look on her upturned face. The look was identical to the one she had conferred upon him the evening they had brewed the Wolfsbane together. The same radiant, expectant look she had adoringly bestowed upon him was being wasted on an undeserving dunderhead. A razor-sharp pang of jealously stabbed him in the gut as, in excruciating agony, he watched Weasley and Granger enjoying each other's company, oblivious to their fellow classmates.

After several minutes of covert surveillance, Professor Snape, deciding he had tortured himself long enough, opted to distance himself from the absorbed couple and slid his chair away from the table, hoping to stealthily slip away from the High Table unobserved by his fellow teachers.

As Snape scraped back his chair and made to rise, a jolly voice interrupted his escape and a hand clamped good-naturedly onto his arm. "Severus, I must commend you on your expert talents at turning out such an accomplished student as you have produced in Potter. You must be giving him private lessons, because his academic prowess rivals that of his mother.

"Ah, yes, he has her gift, so brilliant - and her eyes - like looking at Lily again in class. I must tell you it was quite a shock the first time I laid eyes on him," he continued, dabbing at his eyes.

Needing no reminders about Potter's eyes, eyes that had haunted him for the last five years, Snape scowled, shook off Slughorn's hand, and looked away, his greasy, lank hair swinging forward to effectively obscure his face. Mumbling something about preparations for the next day's lesson, Snape rose, nodded to Slughorn, and amidst the billowing folds of his robes vanished before Slughorn knew what had happened.

Snape escaped without a backwards glance, thus he was unaware of a pair of chocolate brown eyes, flecked with golden specks, following his exit as he quickly stepped into the Great Hall. Sprinting down the narrow, stone steps, he arrived quickly in front of the door to his private quarters, his dungeon sanctuary in the castle.

There was an air of edginess about him as he cautiously lowered the wards and slipped inside. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but ever since the talk with Albus yesterday morning, he had been unable to shake the feeling of being watched by Albus' blasted spirit friend.

Thankful for the isolation of his quarters, he leaned back heavily against the door as it firmly latched behind him, taking deep breaths to clear his senses. Pressing his fingertips to his throbbing temples, he began to massage away the tension that had begun building since Albus' little revelations. He emitted a low moan as he rolled his head in a circular motion to loosen the tightness in his shoulders and neck, before slowly manoeuvring his tired body into the living area.

Severus was vaguely aware of Elf hovering near the crackling fire, her big elf eyes watching him with concern as he gently lowered himself into his favourite wing chair, propping his feet upon the ottoman. He'd had more than his share of tribulations to deal with, and on the first day of classes, no less. Thankfully, there was no homework to mark.

Yesterday had been one disappointment after another starting with the visit to Albus' office, and today had not gone much better. He had expected trouble from Potter, but Granger's remark about the amount of homework she expected to be assigned had cut him to the quick. Thinking about class, his body trembled with anger over the cheek Potter, 'the Chosen One,' had given him in class that day and the betrayal he felt from the fickleness and disloyalty by the one student he had thought of as exemplary.

On the other hand, his remarkable side vision had revealed Granger about to remove her books from her bag at the precise moment he was telling the class not to take out their books. He loved the control he had in the classroom, and he was going to retain that control in spite of Potter.

He continued the light fingertip massage of the area around the orbital bone, though it provided little relief.

He had delivered his introductory remarks, practised and honed over years of teaching, to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class with the aplomb of a veteran. He should have been, if not jubilant, at least satisfied. After all, he had the post he had been coveting for fourteen years - the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.

'Gods,' he thought, 'I am wasting my time teaching dunderheads who think themselves a match for the Dark Lord. They have their whole lives ahead of them while I on the other hand - oh, well - Albus might not be the only professor not living to see the end of the school year. My future doesn't look very bright either,' he thought, dropping his head into his hands, hoping he would finally find the peace and release he so desperately sought.

Grief stricken, wringing her hands, Elf watched Master Professor as he put himself through the annual torture of berating himself over Mistress's death. His behaviour was the same every year; only this year had a feeling of finality. She rocked back and forth, arms crossed hugging herself, her little body trembling nervously. She wanted to help Master Professor, but she didn't know what to do. The nervous tension had begun building yesterday morning and grew as evening fell. By the time she had gotten up the courage to go to the Great Hall and watch the first-years arrive, the gloom in the dungeon had been so thick it was suffocating. She wanted to take away his pain and make him happy. She had grown to care for him since coming to Hogwarts, where Mistress and Professor Albus had sent her, but she stayed because he needed her and she loved him - he was all she had left of Mistress. Big tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she slowly walked over to him and awkwardly patted his arm. He was shaking and silently sobbing, and Elf feared Master Professor might think he had nothing to live for and he would become careless when he meets with the evil wizard, and some night he might not return to her. Elf rung her hands together nervously trying to think of something to cheer him. She could think of nothing and knew this night would be no different than all the previous years of first day of term. 'The conversation is always the same,' she thought, as she bent to tug one of the professor's boots off.

'Elf, what are you doing? Go away and leave me alone. I do not require your molly colly,' she mouthed silently, deftly sliding a slipper onto his foot.

"Elf, what are you doing? How many times do I have to tell you to go away and leave me alone? I do not require your mollycoddling. Leave or I will be forced to give you clothes," he growled, glaring darkly at her through the space between his fingers.

Caught off guard, Elf looked up sharply. Master Professor had never threatened her before. She was to be saying, 'Can Elf bring tea?' Master Professor be saying, 'I want no tea. Bring Firewhisky.' Haltingly, she inquired, "M - Ma - Master - Prof - Professor?"

"What is it, Elf?" he barked. There were days when Elf's very presence irritated him so much he was tempted to give her clothes, which was a rash action, because Elf clung to him for the same reason he clung to her - Lily. But tonight the sight of Elf devotedly tending to him caused memories of Lily to spring forth, bringing stinging tears to his eyes, and he detested himself for showing emotion. They enabled this weakness in each other. Perhaps if she was gone, he could make a break with his past. Did he dare carry out his threat?

"Elf bring tea?" asked Elf timidly.

Snape leaned forwards, elbows on his knees cradling his head in his hands, and took a deep breath before answering. "I want no tea," he said resignedly.

Elf eyed the decanter on the shelf and glanced at Master Professor hoping he wouldn't drink too much. Master Professor was scaring her with clothes. Why? Did Master Professor not want Elf? She must do something to keep his mind off his troubles. Elf wine would be medicinal and bring on a deep sleep. Elf remembered the happiness look Master Professor had when he brewed the potion with Miss. Elf had never seen Master Professor look comfortable and happy with anyone other than Professor Albus. Elf knew this was a good thing. Miss was good for Master Professor, but Master Professor seemed not to see that Miss was good. Someone must do something to help Master Professor so he wouldn't be miserable all the time and blame himself. Elf thought very hard trying to come up with a plan to get Miss to visit the dungeon again and make happiness for Master Professor.

"Elf bring elf wine. Elf wine very good for Master Professor. Miss be liking elf wine. Miss be liking Master Professor. Miss say Master Professor good teacher. Miss say Master Prof-"

Rubbing his temples, Severus opened one eye and peered between his fingers at Elf as he gritted his teeth and bit out a question. "Elf, when were you speaking with Miss Granger, and knowing that I do not appreciate my private affairs being made public, why were you discussing me?" he growled.

Quivering, Elf timidly answered, "When Miss stay with Elf all night. Elf and Miss talk and drink elf wine," she added as further explanation.

Severus raised his head to stare pointedly at Elf. "And, tell me, Elf, just what did you and Miss Granger discuss?

Elf looked crestfallen and dropped her head.

"I'm waiting for an answer, Elf," replied Snape. He had accidentally discovered firsthand the effect effervescent elf wine served warm had on wizards and witches. Because of their higher percentage of body fat, witches felt the effects of a loosened tongue and lowered inhibitions more quickly than their wizard counterparts. It was easier to use than Veritaserum, because the witch wasn't fearful of talking. In fact, before the euphoria wore off and the witch fell asleep she would candidly discuss most any subject, especially so if given to be being loquacious.

"Miss kind to Elf. Miss talk to Elf. Miss know Mistress. Elf like to be talking to Miss. Miss say Elf sad Mistress gone."

"Elf," he growled dangerously. "Poppycock! What did you discuss with Miss Granger about Mistress?' he hissed. "What did you say about me - and Lily?" he whispered in a strained, strangled tone of voice.

"Elf no have to tell Miss. Miss know. Miss be saying Mistress and Master Professor being friends."

"It's not possible," he hissed. "Granger couldn't possibly know." Who besides the staff at Hogwarts would know - Albus, Hagrid, Slughorn? Then under his breath, he muttered to himself, "Of what interest to Granger is there in learning of me and Lily?" He pondered the thought for a moment before once again turning to interrogate Elf.

"Elf, what instructions have I given regarding my personal life?" he demanded angrily.

"Master Professor say Elf not be talking about Master Professor. Bad Elf. Elf be talking to Miss," she replied, picking up a tray and hitting herself over the head with it.

Severus grabbed the tray from her hands. "Don't do that! Calmly tell me what you spoke with Miss Granger about regarding my personal life," he said, a little more gently.

"Miss be saying Master Professor and Mistress is being friends at school."

Severus looked down at the little house-elf and asked darkly, "How was the subject of your Mistress brought up? Was it a direct question or was Miss Granger merely fishing for information?"

Elf looked around and twisted her tea towel then opened her mouth several times to speak, only to close it and remain silent. Her pointed, batlike ears dropped back, and she stared up at Snape, her enormous brown eyes pleading for understanding.

"Elf, I am waiting for an answer. Did Miss Granger mention the name Lily Evans, or did she merely inquire as to who my friends were while I attended Hogwarts?"

A look of confusion crossed Elf's face as it slowly dawned on her she had disobeyed Master Professor by discussing his private life. "Elf sorry, Master Professor." The little house elf's eyes darted nervously around the room then landed on the tray. As she reached for the tray, an arm darted out and snatched it up before she could get her hands on it and bang herself over the head again.

Returning the tray to the table, Snape scowled and said, "I forbid you to punish yourself, Elf. I want answers to my questions."

Elf tilted her chin and eyed the professor warily. Finally she answered in a squeaky, low tone, hurrying through her response. "Miss be asking is Mistress and Lily being the same person. Miss say Mistress and Master Professor being friends at Hogwarts - and - Miss say Master Professor and Mistress have baby. Elf say -"

Severus' eyes blazed briefly then darkened as he responded, "I suppose you supplied Miss Granger with all the tantalizing particulars she needed to come to her own misinformed conception."

"No, Master Professor, Elf no be saying nothing. Elf be saying Mistress die. Elf not be saying Master Professor be saving Mistress. Miss know everything. Elf no be telling Miss. Elf be saying good-bye to Miss. Miss at Hogwarts. Elf not be seeing Miss. Elf not be talking to Miss," she said sadly, dropping her head, wringing her hands.

He had to think. Who would be the most likely staff members for Granger to have talked with casually? Not Dumbledore. He would never betray secrets, and Minerva was approachable to students in an academic manner only. She was not one to participate in idle chitchat and gossip. Hagrid. He was a possibility. Especially if he had a pint, he might say something he didn't mean to, but it didn't seem likely that Granger would have visited Hagrid without Potter or Weasley tagging along. Of course, Potter had viewed his memories in the Pensieve and no doubt couldn't wait to tell his little friends about the greasy git's most embarrassing moment. But that didn't explain Lily, because Snape guarded the memories of Lily fiercely, and Potter hadn't seen any of Snape's memories with his mother. Then he remembered the project Granger was working on for the Wolfsbane. Of course, she was in contact with Lupin; that would explain it. She would have talked with him about the memories Potter saw and would ask more questions. He was a softhearted wimp and could ramble on about the past. Stupid werewolf never knew when to keep his mouth shut. The more Severus thought about it, the more he was certain that Granger had been talking with Lupin, and Granger had undoubtedly turned the conversation to potions and her potions professor. One thing and another and she would be asking Lupin what it had been like at school with Snape. Granger was smart and could piece together bits of information gleaned from her various sources and fabricate a tale. Snape regarded Elf with a jaundiced eye.

"A likely story," he scoffed, his lips forming a thin sneer.

Elf brightened visibly, the worried look vanished from her face, and she brushed her hands over her tea towel, smoothing the wrinkles she had twisted into it. She looked up at Master Professor, her huge elf eyes glistening, and squeaked, "You like - my story?"

Snape shook his head, and the corners of his mouth threatened to turn up in a smile. He was reminded of how much Lily and her house elf were alike. Both had the uncanny ability to make him laugh just when he was most frustrated with them.

"Yes, Elf," he said indulgently, "I like your story."

Perhaps if he played his cards right, he could obtain a plethora of information about Granger which he could use to his advantage. Professor Snape was in control of his classroom, and Potter and Granger had better not put one toe out of line; this was going to be a good year for Slytherin.

Snape wriggled back in his wing chair and put his feet on the ottoman. Crossing his feet at the ankles, Snape wiggled the toes of his slipperless foot and said, "Elf, my other slipper, please." A sly smile played around his mouth.

Elf stared at Master Professor in complete disbelief. This year was not beginning like every other year, she decided as she looked up at Master Professor with an answering smile.

"Tell me, Elf, what else did Miss Granger say about liking me besides my being a good teacher?" Snape asked silkily. From somewhere in the room came the sound of a woman's soft laughter, but when Snape glanced around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

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To Hermione's dismay she quickly discovered that Harry was usurping her position in Potions as the number one student. It was downright annoying that he was not doing it on his own merit but had attained the distinction by following instructions that had been handwritten in his used copy of Advanced Potion-Making by some Prince person. Slughorn, enthralled with the outstanding results Harry was producing, continued to rave about his skills, constantly comparing him to his mother, Lily. However, Hermione and Ron, along with the rest of the class, were less than thrilled with Harry's newly discovered ability and were tired of hearing how talented he was.

Hermione was not used to taking a backseat to Harry in any of their classes, except Defence Against the Dark Arts, and she found the experience infuriating. It was especially difficult to stomach since she was following the prescribed curriculum, and Harry was going off on a tangent following Merlin only knew whose instructions.

By the end of the first week, it was obvious the sixth years' free time was going to be taken up by a staggering amount of homework, and Hermione knew she didn't have many opportunities to dissuade Harry from following the questionable copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Every time she did broach the subject Harry either suddenly had some place else he had to be, or he clammed up and refused to talk. The three friends found themselves going their separate ways; Harry spent extra time with Dumbledore, and Ron played Quidditch. She'd had a glimmer of hope only that morning when the post owl delivered Harry's new copy of Advanced Potion-Making from Flourish and Blotts, but that was quickly doused as she watched him swap the covers on the two books.

She found herself looking forward to returning to the one constant in life - brewing medicinal potions and working on her potion project for a Wolfsbane Vaccine. Except for a brief conversation that morning in the Great Hall at breakfast, she'd had no opportunity to talk with Professor Snape about arranging access to his private laboratory. He had promised to give her a tour next week, as well as a schedule when she could use the facilities so as not to conflict with his research. She had thought the professor would welcome her help considering they had gotten on so well brewing the Wolfsbane. Even though Snape himself had said brewing Wolfsbane was easier with a second pair of hands, she worried she'd managed to upset him, and that was the reason he no longer wanted to work alongside her.

Shortly thereafter, Hermione had further cause to be concerned when she received an impromptu invitation from Slughorn to attend a supper he was having in his office that evening. The thought of attending filled Hermione with dread, because neither Harry nor Ron would be present. Except for Ginny, she had little more than a nodding acquaintance with the select group of invitees. As the day wore on, she became more anxious about attending after learning McLaggen had been invited.

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Each step she took up the marble staircase to Slughorn's office filled her with anxiety, but when Slughorn greeted her warmly at the door, her trepidation quickly melted away as she was swiftly drawn into the conviviality of the room.

"Miss Granger, I'm so pleased you could come. Too bad you couldn't convince Harry to reschedule Quidditch practice. But, do come in, because there is someone here I am anxious for you to meet; her family owns a chain of apothecaries. Melinda Bobbin is a charming young lady with whom you share a common interest," he said genially, gripping her arm and drawing her into the room. Hermione scanned the room hoping to see Ginny, then gave Slughorn a quizzical look.

Smiling, Slughorn handed her a glass of fizzy punch and said, "Medicinal potions, my dear. Miss Bobbin's family owns a chain of apothecaries, and she is quite the dab hand in potions, as well," he explained. Seeing the puzzled look on her face, he put his hand on the small of her back and propelled her to the centre of the room.

"Hermione, Melinda, I will leave the two of you to become acquainted. Do have some fun, and don't spend the entire evening talking medicinal potions."

At the same time, Hermione took a sip of the punch, which she noted had an oddly familiar taste to it.

Melinda looked at Hermione with an awe struck look on her face. "Did you really work with Snape every day last year brewing for Madam Pomfrey?" she asked breathily.

Still reeling from having been forcibly thrust in Melinda's direction, Hermione sipped the punch and took her time before responding. "Yes, Professor Snape has come to rely upon me rather heavily to lessen his workload, especially now that he has taken the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching position," she answered smugly, taking another sip of punch. Why had she said that? Something about Melinda Bobbin bothered her and made her feel ill at ease.

"Isn't he difficult to work with? I know you are required to spend a lot of time with him brewing for Madam Pomfrey, but he must be very - well, you know - exacting - hard to please - and besides he gives me the creeps - that Dark Arts classroom is downright scary," said Melinda, with a shiver for emphasis of how she felt.

Hermione smiled back. What to say? "Professor Snape and I have a developed a professional working relationship. We have even..." Too late Hermione realized she was divulging more information than was pertinent under the circumstances to a perfect stranger and changed the subject.

"Slughorn says your family owns a chain of apothecaries."

"Yes, my family has been in the business for years. Perhaps you read in the Daily Prophet that Bobbin Pharmaceuticals was planning a merger with a private apothecary in London?" she asked, tossing her long, blond hair over her shoulder.

"No, I must have missed that breaking bit of news," replied Hermione sarcastically, sweeping the room to see who all had arrived.

"Yes, Bang and Gore. You must have heard of them. They are a well-known source for complicated potions. Inside sources hint they have had remarkable success with improvements with Aconit tue-loup.

"My interest in going into the business after I graduate heightened after having Professor Lupin for Dark Arts. I've decided on the field of research and development, because I would like to understand more about his condition and discover a cure. He was the best Dark Arts professor I - oh, well, of course Snape is an excellent teacher, but he is - uh - well -"

Hermione bristled at the girl's sudden announcement. Professor Lupin was her research subject. "I thought Marcus Belby pioneered Wolfsbane research," countered Hermione coldly.

"Yes, of course, but Bobbin Pharmaceuticals used his studies to improve upon the traditional brewing method by adding an aspho-"

Hermione spotted McLaggen over by the fireplace talking with Ginny and Zabini and quit listening to Melinda. She watched as he disengaged himself from the amicable conversation and made his way over to her and Melinda. Hermione decided there was no escaping.

"Hermione, I've been looking all over for you," said an enthusiastic voice in her ear.

Hermione took a step backwards as McLaggen towered over her, and her heart sank. The evening was getting off to a bad start. Maybe she could feign a headache or claim she had homework to do. That was it. She would tell Professor Slughorn she needed to check one of her potions for Madam Pomfrey.

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Hermione made her escape and literally ran down the stone steps to the dungeon. She was not scheduled to begin until next week, but no one but she and Professor Snape knew, and besides she was anxious to have a glimpse of his laboratory. And, she wouldn't be caught telling a professor an untruth if she made a quick visit just to give it a cursory appraisal.

Hermione decided to enter Professor Snape's private laboratory through the door leading from the potions classroom. There was a connecting door between the professor's laboratory and his private quarters, but Hermione felt it would be an invasion of his privacy to knock at his private entrance. She came to a breathless stop outside the potions classroom and waited a few moments before opening the door. Stepping boldly into the classroom, she gasped with shock and stopped short when she saw Professor Snape standing there amidst a heap of packing boxes holding a copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

Stunned, she asked breathily, "What are you doing here - sir?'

"I could ask you the same thing, Miss Granger, as I expected you would be attending Slughorn's supper." Snape cocked an eyebrow and leisurely looked her over from head to toe, curious as to why she appeared at his door agitated. Her flushed face glistened lightly in the dim light, and the deep breaths she was taking were causing her chest to rise and fall noticeably under her robes. It was then he noticed it - subtle at first - underlined with musky, mossy notes.

His senses of sight and smell heightened, and he found himself held in mesmerizing captivity by the undulating rhythm of her blossoming body and the alluring scent of night-blooming jasmine. The mysterious, intoxicating fragrance intermingled with the heady, floral aroma of ylang-ylang was relaxing, yet stimulating. The combination sent shivers down his spine, yet threatened to lull him into a relaxed state of mind. It was then he noticed the room temperature suddenly grow warmer, unusually warm for the castle's dungeon. He tightly grasped the book he was holding as his breathing quickened and his heart began pounding. Contemplating her heaving breasts, Snape noted, regardless of the Mela-Mela-whatever she had cursed him with, the physiological stimuli was having a decidedly unprofessional affect upon his person.

Forcing his eyes to move upward did little to relieve his tension as he now found himself staring into her iridescent brown eyes as she innocently gazed at him intently. The horrific notion of thought transference entered his mind compelling Snape to break their staring match as he quickly looked away.

With lightning speed, his subconscious sized up the situation, seized control of the reins guiding what little conscious thought he had left, and steered his brain to automatically begin the silent narration he had relied upon in his youth to lead him to a safer path.

'Acromantula: monstrous eight-eyed spider, originated in Borneo, rumoured to be found in Scotland, inhabits dense jungles; Ashwinder: thin, pale-grey serpent with glowing red eyes, found throughout the world, created when a magical substance is added to a fire and allowed to burn too long; Augurey: thin, greenish-black bird, native to Britain and Ireland, believed to foretell death; Basilisk: green serpent, may reach up to fifty feet in length....'

Aware he was clad only in teaching robes, he glanced downward at the tell-tale spot of dampness, but was relieved to see Granger's curse was still in effect. Now, he understood why Albus had been reluctant to reverse the spell, which is why Albus had warned him from reversing it himself, as well. Albus knew him better than he knew himself. Sometimes, the old man was wise, he decided. Severus was confident that at the proper time and the proper place Albus would make good on his promise.

Finally, after the moment of crisis had been averted, he slowly released the breath he had been holding and acknowledged what his subconscious had been alluding to for months. He, Professor Severus Snape, found Miss Hermione Granger attractive. He admitted it. Now what?

'Nothing. That is what,' he thought, quickly looking away from her and turning his attention back to the book he was holding in his perspiring palms.

Hermione noted that the professor looked flushed, and his pupils were dilated and darker. Perhaps now was not the time to force her presence upon him. 'But what choice do I have?' she thought. Then she heard a little voice in her head say, 'It is always better to stick to the truth no matter how uncomfortable it makes one. Throw yourself on his mercy, and you might be surprised.'

Hermione took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Yes, I was, but McLaggen was hounding me so I explained that I needed to check a potion as an excuse to leave," she responded, shrugging her shoulders. "You don't mind do you? I just couldn't bear staying there any longer with him breathing down my neck," she pleaded.

'Of course, and a lovely, little neck it is at that,' thought Snape, as he contemplated the book in his hand. Flipping to the inside back cover, he hurriedly read the scribbled inscription: This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince. Satisfied that Potter had returned the borrowed copy, he closed the book, looked up, and said, "All right you may stay," he said resignedly as he strode to the cupboard to return the book.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she thought, 'That was easy.'

"Thank you, Professor. By the way, do you know Melinda Bobbin's family? They own a pharmaceutical chain," she added as she looked over the contents of the cartons, noting there were a large number of books.

"She's a fourth-year student, but I am not acquainted with her family," he responded. A look of exasperation crossed his face as he turned away from the cupboard to see Granger taking inventory of his belongings. In a swirl of black, billowing robes, he quickly closed the space between them, his dark eyes blazing dangerously.

"I thought perhaps you supplied them with your Wolfsbane potion," she said absently as her eyes landed on a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. 'Could that be Harry's book?' she wondered, as she reached out her hand towards it.

"What would make you think that?" asked Snape silkily as he neared her. His hand reached out and firmly grabbed Granger's arm as her fingertips barely made contact with the book, his fingers tightening painfully around her wrist.

"Ow! Professor!" shrieked a startled Hermione, yanking her hand back and rubbing her tender wrist.

"Miss Granger," he hissed, "you do not have my permission to paw through my personal belongings." His eyes glinted with anger.

She had only wanted to see if the book was Harry's. 'I wasn't trying to take it,' she thought, as she stared at the floor, continuing to rub her sore wrist.

"Miss Granger, staring at the floor is hardly what one can call adult behaviour," he sneered, exasperation evident in his tone.

Hermione's head popped up, and she immediately noted Snape didn't appear to be angry, but his eyes were clouded with disappointment. She swallowed and said, "Melinda mentioned her family's company was improving on the Wolfbane by adding - I think she was saying an asphodel egg, but that was when McLaggen came up and accosted me."

"Highly unlikely since I do not brew commercially but only for Poppy," he said disdainfully, a sneer forming on his lips.

"Oh, I see. Well, if you were planning on brewing tonight, I could assist," she said smiling weakly.

"I wasn't," was his dry response.

Hermione had to think quickly of something to say; she was running out of ideas, and she wasn't ready to take her chances and head back to the common room.

"Oh, well, um - uh - what were you planning on doing tonight?" Now that was not quite how she meant to phrase her question. What was wrong with her tonight? She was talking as if she had taken leave of her senses. Snape probably thought she was propositioning him, especially after hearing her whisper his name a few weeks ago. He truly was a gentleman as he had never referred to it since, but in the back of her mind Hermione wondered if he remembered their evening together.

"Tsk-tsk," he said, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "I thought you were more astute than the dunderheads you associate with normally. I would think it obvious that I am clearing out my desk."

Hermione smiled back sheepishly, shifted her feet nervously, and glanced around the room. Her gaze landed on the table where she had sat earlier in the week, next to the gold-coloured cauldron with the spirals of steam and enticing aromas. Hermione recalled how she had found herself breathing deeply, inhaling the fumes, and thinking about the professor who was now standing only centimetres away from her.

"Gryffindor to the end, Miss Granger? You certainly do cut straight to the point. Though, subtlety never was your strong suite, was it?" he said cynically, tilting his head, eyeing her critically.

"If it were, it is doubtful I would be here at all. I merely forgot, for the moment, that this is Professor Slughorn's classroom now. I could help you move the boxes," she replied, vowing not to let Snape get the better of her.

As she uttered the words, she wondered why she had been responding with cheeky answers. 'Where did that thought come from?' she asked herself. Probably from the fact that if she had been subtle she would never have been in detention and would never have ended up as Snape's assistant. Which now that she looked back at last year, it was a good thing it had happened. She enjoyed being Snape's assistant and hoped it would lead to an apprenticeship after graduation.

"I would like to be more than your assistant, sir," she replied, smiling sincerely. 'This is not going well,' thought Hermione, feeling her face flush. There was a sparkle in her chocolate brown eyes that did not escape Snape's notice.

"Would you, now," he said smoothly, his eyes smouldering with interest. "Pray tell, if not my assistant, what would you like to be?" he asked silkily, a slight sneer creeping across his lips. He liked this new side of Hermione Granger that he was seeing.

Hermione gulped nervously. Suddenly the option of escaping to the common room and taking her chances with McLaggen seemed like the better idea. She glanced around the room in hopes of coming up with a plausible answer. "Well, I could be - your - your - second pair of hands when you brew Wolfsbane, or I could be - your apprentice - after I graduate, that is," she said slowly.

"Since Lupin began living among the werewolves, infiltrating their ranks, he has opted to suffer the monthly transformation to keep his cover. I only brew Wolfsbane on request, and it has not been requested." Snape replied, in a low tone of voice, reaching out for Hermione's wrist.

Startled, Hermione jumped, but allowed the professor to examine the reddening marks on her arm.

As the professor bent over her arm for a closer inspection, he tenderly pressed his fingertips over the underside of her wrist, before moving over her palm then proceeded to the tips of her fingers. 'Ah, Draco's assessment of your attributes, Miss Granger, appears to be quite accurate. I concur that your index finger indicates you have excellent leadership skills, as well as an independent mind,' he thought.

Applying gentle pressure with his thumbs over the carpal bones, Snape performed a nonverbal spell for healing the collection of bones, joints, and tendons that formed the complex structure of the hand. Feeling the therapeutic energy course between them, he released the breath he had been holding as he watched the red marks disappear.

He realized too late that he had strayed into dangerous territory. Physical contact with the girl was resurrecting memories of other close moments they had shared: the first night of detention as he held her close...removing the quill from his palm in the library...the night he found her brewing the Calming Draught... sitting by her bedside after her return from the Ministry of Magic...and more recently, the energy he felt emanating from her body as he comforted her following her emotional outburst.

Hermione could not see his face as his lank hair had fallen forward, obscuring his features from view, but she could feel a static charge travelling up her arm and out her fingertips. Trembling nervously, her breathing quickened and she could feel her heart pounding as she watched her fingers twitch involuntarily.

"That leaves apprentice, except you have not graduated," he said softly, looking up at her as he reluctantly relinquished her hand.

Dazed, Hermione stared numbly at her hand. "Thank you, sir," she whispered.

His dark eyes were boring into her, and she feared he would learn her thoughts. 'Out of the frying pan into the fire, Hermione,' a little voice in her head said. "Sorry, for interrupting you while you were clearing out your desk, professor.

"Maybe I could tidy your libratory - I mean tidy your labria - no tiby your libidory, oh, mercy, labidory, oh, merdi, ti-ty your la-bi-do," she said nervously as she shifted from one foot to the other.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that neither my library nor my libido need tidying nor tightening, On the other hand, my laboratory needs a thorough cleaning and a restocking before we can begin using it. I was planning to tend to it myself tonight after I finished clearing the desk drawers. But, since you have graciously offered your services, it would be ungentlemanly for me to refuse your offer," he replied, his eyes flirting mischievously in time with his banter.

'Would the real Professor Snape return, please,' she thought apprehensively. She would be better off if she simply declined and took her chances in the common room with McLaggen. "Sorry, sir. Maybe I should leave; I seem a bit off tonight. It was probably the fizzy punch."

"You had fizzy punch?" he growled, his eyes darkening in irritation.

"It was only one cup at Professor Slughorn's supper. Did I do something wrong?" she asked warily.

"Slughorn laces his punch with elf wine, which in small amounts does no harm, but you appear to have had more than a small amount. Why don't you sit while Elf brings you tea to calm your nerves, before you tidy anything of mine? I do not need to be the subject of any more inadvertent catastrophes."

Hermione sat down at a desk, and shortly, Elf appeared bearing a tea tray and biscuits.

"Elf happy Miss be visiting. Master Professor be saying Miss need tea for to calm Miss."

"Thank you, Elf. You are most kind. I'm sure this will clear my head, and I will be able to ti - to clean up and restock the professor's la-bor-a-tory," she said slowly, giving Elf a big smile. Hermione was happy to see the little house-elf again. With the recent revelation in Slughorn's class, Hermione was certain Lily Evans Potter and Mistress was the same person. The two people that could confirm or deny this suspicion were in the room with her.

Snape stood by the fireplace watching the repartee. They got on well just like Elf and Lily had. Miss Granger was the first witch Elf would allow in his rooms. When Elf first came to him, every time he brought a witch back to his quarters Elf would throw a tantrum, and the witch would end up leaving, refusing to ever return. The only time Snape had been grateful for Elf's behaviour was when she scared Hooch away the first year Slytherin won the Quidditch cup, and Hooch had insisted on celebrating with the Head of Slytherin House.

Elf and Hermione continued to chat while she sipped her tea, but try as she might Hermione couldn't work in the topic of Mistress. It was almost as if the house-elf was carefully guarding her words.

"I feel much better," she said, setting her cup back in the saucer and rising. "I am ready to go to work."

As Snape marched to the laboratory door, he heard the words of advice Albus had given him last year.

'I had been hoping you would consider making Miss Granger your apprentice, but it would require extra hours alone with her - in the dungeon, at night - late at night, in the dungeon - just the two of you...late at night...all alone...'

"Fine. But limit your tidying to my laboratory," he sneered. "Bring those smaller cartons and follow me, please," he said while grasping the brass doorknob. 'I can do this,' he thought.

---

Author’s Notes:
1. To Sheri: I am hugely appreciate of your time and talent. Thank you.
2. Mugglenet.com and hp-lexicon.org referenced for assistance in locating quotes from JK's books, and reference on story and characters.