Author's Notes: I wrote this story without the help of a beta reader. It took me about two hours over the course of two days, and the only other person who read it was my good friend Arianne, who hated the first draft. She is responsible for my adding the bookshop scene. Other than that, Microsoft Word was my only beta. If you have comments about anything regarding the story, you feel something is amiss, please let me know. I have the nagging suspicion that I didn't catch every mistake. So now, without further ado, enjoy my story!



It was the last day of the last term of the last year that Hermione Granger would ever spend at Hogwarts as a student. Tomorrow, at a ceremony that her parents were taking the Hogwart’s Express for, she would graduate with full honors at the top of her class.

However, until that moment arrived, she was still Head Girl Hermione Granger, HG squared as Terry Boot liked to call her, and she had to make sure that her house was prepared for the final day of the festivities and for the final day of school. She wasn’t sure how long the celebrating had been going on, if had been mere minutes or hours after the school learned of the defeat of Lord Voldemort, but it was definitely now at least a week since he had been vanquished and at least that long since the celebrating had been carrying on. Hermione didn’t hold it against anyone. Inside she would be celebrating for years.

Hermione twisted her hair up into a bun with a spare pencil as she climbed out of her portrait hole and headed toward the Gryffindor common room.

“Hermione!” Parvati called out, as she and a few of her friends passed by Hermione in the narrow hall. “Come to Hogsmeade with us. We’re picking up our dresses for the ball tonight, and I’m sure we could find you something, too.”

“No, thanks,” Hermione said, waving as they passed each other. “I’m on my way to help Harry with the first years.”

One of the girls said something catty to Parvati, who tried hushed her, but started giggling instead, and the little encounter ended with Parvati and her friends racing down the hallway lest they burst into hysterical laughter in front of Hermione, who they thought was the joke of femininity.

Hermione, all too used to dealing with this kind of behavior from her fellow female seventh years, just rolled her eyes and continued on toward the Gryffindor common room.

When she arrived she was greeted by a harried looking Harry, who was trying to keep all of the first through third years organized before heading down to the lake shore. How he had gotten himself wrangled into volunteer duty was beyond Hermione. It probably had something to do with everyone’s good mood as of late. With the mood Harry was in, he would probably agree to anything, he was so happy.

“Are you ready to move the herd?” Harry asked, as Hermione clambered through the Gryffindor portrait hole.

“Everyone!” Hermione called, raising her wand and letting a blast of noise emit from the tip. “Get into lines by years, and then we’ll walk down to the lake.”

There was a mad dash as everyone tried to arrange themselves, and as soon as the last first year was in place, Hermione opened the portrait hole and pandemonium erupted, as everyone meshed together trying to get out as soon as possible.

“I wonder if they're excited,” Hermione commented, laughing, as she and Harry followed the throng of students down the steps and out the front doors, where they mixed in with the crowds from other houses, who were, if possible, even more disorganized than Gryffindor.

“Miss Granger!” Hermione heard Professor McGonagall call over the din. “Why aren’t you in-oof!-Hogsmeade with the others?” she asked, as a group of Hufflepuff second years almost ran her over with hardly an apology.

“I thought I would come down with Harry and see if you needed any more volunteers,” Hermione practically shouted over the exciting screaming and yelling.

“Go on, Hermione,” Harry said, giving her a gentle shove in the direction of the castle. “Stop working for a change!” he grinned. Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement, and Hermione shrugged and turned back for the castle.

She was slowly walking up the sloping gravel path to the front doors when Professor Snape passed Hermione on his way to help watch over the celebrations. For a brief moment chocolate brown eyes met pitch black eyes, and something passed between the two people. Then they broke the connection, ignored each other, and continued on their way. But it was all Hermione needed to see.

‘He knows,’ she thought to herself as a blush slowly crept up her neck to her cheeks. ‘When did he realize I was in love with him?’

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione sat next to her window in her armchair, idly flipping through a random book she had pulled off her shelf. She was thinking about Professor Snape and her plan to tell him that she was in love with him, but the awkwardness, the discomfort that she felt from him when she looked at him, it could only mean one thing; he knew.

What was she to do now? Just walk out of Hogwarts without ever telling him that she was in love with him? Without ever saying the words to him, would it ever have any meaning? There was only one thing she could do.

Hermione put down her book and grabbed her coat. She slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for Hogsmeade. She had to find herself a dress.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore said gently, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What is bothering you? You seem more distracted than usual.”

“It’s nothing, Headmaster,” Severus said softly, trying to avoid Dumbledore’s piercing gaze. “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by the end of the year, once again.”

“Ah, I see,” Dumbledore said, and walked away toward a group of rowdy third years.

But Severus, now flushed with embarrassment and a kind of anger, knew that Dumbledore knew, and Dumbledore, not wanting to excite Severus, knew that Severus would never believe he had fallen for his story.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione spent the afternoon browsing the shops at Hogsmeade before settling on a somewhat clingy, dark blue halter dress. It showed off her figure without showing off too much, and that was what she wanted. Deciding to treat herself after a full afternoon of dress shopping, she stepped into her favorite bookstore to see what they had gotten in since the last time she had been there.

After browsing the aisles for quite some time, she picked up a popular magazine, pulled up an overstuffed armchair, and settled in for a little bit of light reading before heading back to the castle.

“Witch Weekly, Miss Granger?” asked Professor Snape, as he appeared over the top of her magazine. “I never would have figured you the type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Professor Snape,” Hermione said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I seriously doubt that,” Professor Snape replied, causing Hermione to blush.

“Good day, Professor Snape,” Hermione said curtly, going back to her magazine, where she would have kept her attention if Professor Snape hadn’t tripped over her dress bag. He managed to grip her armchair to keep himself from falling over completely, but the dress had fallen part way out of the bag, drawing his attention to it.

“Miss Granger, I-,” he began.

“-never would have figured me the type?” Hermione snapped. This caused Professor Snape to flush, and he leaned over to lift up the dress and put it back in the bag. The soft material practically cascaded over his long fingers as it fell back into the bag, and Hermione had to gulp, though in doing so, she missed the same reaction from Professor Snape.

“Forgive me, Miss Granger,” Professor Snape said, and quickly left the section Hermione was sitting in. Not being able to concentrate further, Hermione put the magazine back on the shelf, and left to head back to the castle.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


When Hermione entered the Great Hall that night for the ball, the room was almost dark. The enchanted ceiling shone with a million stars, many times magnifying the night sky outside. The hall glowed with a soft shine from the dance floor, but threw the corners of the room into darkness. Hermione couldn’t help but keep staring at the enchanted ceiling. It took her breath away, to see such far away worlds. It was better than looking through a telescope.

“I had a feeling, Miss Granger, that this would be the highlight of the evening for you,” Professor Snape said, coming to stand next to his star pupil. Hermione’s heart beat increased, but before she could reply, someone interrupted.

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, coming from inside the crowd. His face was already red, and Hermione could only imagine how much he’d had to drink. “Dance with me!” he shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her onto the floor. Hermione glanced back at Snape, but he had already turned to head back toward the chaperone table.

Hermione took a few turns on the dance floor with Ron and Harry each, and then twirled to a slow song with Harry.

“You look beautiful, Hermione,” he murmured as they slowly moved around the dance floor. And it was true. Hermione did look beautiful in her dark blue dress. Her hair was done up with the help of a few Charms purloined from magazines she had browsed through in Hogsmeade, and to top it off, she felt gorgeous. For once in her seven years at Hogwarts, everything felt right in the world.

Hermione saw Professor Lupin come up behind Harry and tap him on the shoulder as another slow song began. So Hermione took her turn with Professor Lupin, and then sat down and talked with Ginny for awhile. It wasn’t until the DJ announced the last song that Hermione got up from the small table where she had been chatting and walked over to the chaperone corner.

“Excuse me, Professor Snape,” she interrupted the group of talking adults. They all turned to look at her.

“Is there a problem, Hermione?” Professor Lupin asked.

“Is something wrong?” Professor Sprout squeaked.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Professor Snape asked.

“Would you dance with me?” Hermione asked, looking him in the eye.

There was absolute silence at the table as what Hermione said sunk in. For once in his life, Severus Snape didn’t have a sharp come back at hand.

“I-I,” he stuttered out.

“Get a move on!” Professor McGonagall said gruffly, shoving him in the back. “Get off your chair and dance, you lump,” she admonished, laughing.

“Yes! Go on! Go on!” the rest of the table pressed.

Snape rose from his chair and looked at Hermione.

“Well?” he asked, extending his hand and allowing Hermione to lead the way to the floor.

The walk to the dance floor seemed to take hours for Hermione. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion. She tried to take deep breaths and summon her Gryffindor courage, but she was faltering. It wasn’t until she and Professor Snape were standing on the floor and she had turned to look at him that her courage came flooding back. As the music started she put her hand on his shoulder and felt his hand come to rest against the curve of her hip. Their other hands met in mid air, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. They didn’t talk through the whole song, though whether it was because they felt disinclined to do so, or whether it was because the entire school was watching agape as their evil potion’s professor twirled the head girl around the floor, they couldn’t say.

When the music ended, Hermione mustered the rest of her courage and whispered to Professor Snape, “Meet me in the small alcove behind the staircase,” and then she left the dance floor.

She expertly dodged Ron and Harry who wanted to know how much she had had to drink, and exited the ballroom before anyone else, as many were still milling around inside, saying last goodbyes.

Hermione turned the corner into the small alcove behind the staircase and leaned against the cool stone wall. She imagined she could hear the echoes of her heartbeat in the small passageway.

“I could take points away from you for this,” Professor Snape said, stepping into the hallway. “This suggestion of yours is highly improper.”

“But you still came,” Hermione found herself saying. For some reason, she wasn’t scared any more. He had come, and that was all that mattered.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Miss Granger,” Severus said quietly, in an attempt not to draw any attention to himself or Hermione from the students passing by overhead.

“You do know what I’m implying, sir,” Hermione said, breathing a bit heavily. “It’s the reason you came here.”

Severus Snape stepped closer to her, putting his hands on either side of her against the wall. “Why did I come here, Miss Granger?” he asked, looking her in the eye.

“You tell me, Professor,” Hermione said, as Severus leaned ever closer to her. Their noses were almost touching, and both of them were breathing more heavily than they had been on the dance floor. Severus moved his hands from the wall and down to Hermione’s shoulders, letting them flow down to her upper arms where they rested, trapping Hermione in his grip. In the shadows, Hermione’s dress and Severus’s robe appeared the same color, and seemed as if they were meshing together down on the floor. The tide of students was slowly fading away, with only a few stragglers bringing up the last of the group from the Great Hall. They leaned closer to each other, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Kiss me,” Hermione breathed, hardly daring to move.

“I can’t,” he hissed, and then whispered, “Hermione.”

It was the first time he had called her by her first name, and she sighed heavily as his hands left her arms.

“Come to my rooms,” she said.

“Hermione,” he said softly, backing away. “I can’t. If Dumbledore ever found out, I would be ruined.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Hermione asked, matching Severus step for step until he was backed against the opposite wall.

“He would be furious,” Professor Snape persisted, though not as strongly as he had started out the argument.

“Please,” Hermione whispered, leaning toward Severus.

“Gods, Hermione,” Severus breathed, and looked into her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I will come to your rooms, but, not with you. I-I will meet you there,” he stammered, looking terribly nervous, but slightly less so as Hermione backed away.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, Professor Snape,” she said, as she left the small alcove.

Severus waited a few minutes before following Hermione up the staircase. He was so dazed, so confused by what was happening that he barely noticed when he turned down her hallway. She was there, toward the end, waiting for him outside of the entrance to her rooms.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew exactly where they were or not, so I waited,” she explained, as she turned toward the portrait. “Quidditch,” Hermione said to the portrait, and then to Severus, “It’s the only password I knew people wouldn’t guess.”

The old witch in the portrait was only half awake, and about to open the door when she noticed Professor Snape.

“No men! No men in your rooms, Head Girl!” the witch exclaimed loudly, causing both Hermione and Severus to shush her.

“I’m a Professor,” Severus told the witch.

“Even worse!” she huffed.

“Open up or I’ll hex you,” Severus threatened.

“Very well, very well,” the old woman said, pulling back to reveal the entrance to Hermione’s rooms.

“Please don’t tell anyone, Mathilda,” Hermione begged.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing, dear,” the witch said, but after Severus had climbed through the opening, the old witch gave Hermione a wink.

“That’s quite a security guard you have there,” Severus said, after Hermione had closed the door.

“We get along well enough,” Hermione explained, sitting next to Severus on her couch. “But we didn’t come here to talk about portraits.”

“I don’t think we came here to talk much at all,” Severus commented, as Hermione leaned toward him. Suddenly, Severus jumped up. “I can’t, Hermione!” he exclaimed. “I just can’t. I’m already breaking so many school rules by being here.”

“I’m breaking so many school rules by inviting you here,” Hermione retorted. Professor Snape sent her a sharp look, which caused some of Hermione’s confidence to leak away. “Perhaps you should go,” she said softly. “I-, maybe you were right after all. You shouldn’t be here.”

Professor Snape nodded and started heading toward the door, and Hermione stood, watching him go. But then…

“Oh, to hell with it,” Severus said aloud, and rushed over to Hermione, who was completely unprepared for the feel of soft, thin lips pressed against her own. Finally, they broke apart, each breathing heavily, and Hermione grabbed Severus’s hand.

“This way,” she said, leading him through a door into her bedroom. When they were both inside she lit only a few candles and then turned to him. “It’s not too late,” she said quietly. “You can still leave.”

“No, I want to stay,” Severus said, and Hermione pulled him into another, deeper kiss. She heard and felt Severus moan against her mouth, and quickly she flicked her tongue out to lick his lips. Severus parted his lips and Hermione let her tongue sweep into his mouth. Reacting on impulse to this sudden move of Hermione’s, Severus pressed her closer to him, running his hands up and down her back.

Hermione finally tore herself away from their kiss, and garbled out a phrase that sounded a lot like, “bed, now, please,” but the exact words didn’t matter. Professor Snape knew what she meant and walked over to the bed in a state of utter bewilderment. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him.

Gingerly, he sat on the bed, and Hermione, not in the least bit nonplussed by his reluctance, lifted her dress, and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

“Hermione,” he began, as she started trailing kisses down his neck. “Hermione, I’ve never done this before,” he finally managed to get out.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione muttered against his neck.

“Should we really be doing this?” Severus tried to stall again, his breath shaky as Hermione started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Gods, yes,” Hermione breathed, kissing his collarbone. Severus leaned back and closed his eyes as Hermione started kissing skin where once fabric had been. Suddenly he didn’t care. He hadn’t felt this good in years, and even though a small part of his mind was telling him that Hermione was a student, the larger, more important part of his brain was telling him it was the best time of his life.

He lay back on the bed, slowly, and felt Hermione’s body follow his, finally coming to rest gently on top of him. Severus opened his eyes and looked into Hermione’s.

“Severus, I need to tell you something,” she said. Severus enjoyed hearing his name on her lips.

But Hermione never got to tell Severus what she wanted to say, because there was a pounding on her door.

“Hermione!” she heard Harry’s voice call. “Hermione! Are you in there?”

“Stop pounding on my frame!” the shrill voice of the witch in the portrait screeched.

Hermione’s eyes went wide, and she practically leaped off of Professor Snape, as if Harry had walked in on them.

“I need to answer the door. He’ll barge right in, otherwise. That witch will let him,” Hermione rambled, as she straightened her dress and ran into the other room. Severus stayed in her bedroom, listening through the partly open door.

“Hermione!” he heard Harry exclaim. “Where were you after the ball? We couldn’t find you. If you’re worried about dancing with Snape, everyone forgives you.”

He heard Hermione chuckle, though it did sound a bit forced to his ears, and he figured if it sounded forced to him, it must sound so to Harry.

“Are you okay?” he asked Hermione.

“I’m fine, Harry, just a bit tired. I’m going to go to bed, all right?” Hermione said, much more calmly.

“All right, Hermione. I’ll see you tomorrow before the ceremony,” Harry said, and Severus heard the door close. He got off the bed and walked into the other room.

“I should go,” he said, pulling on his robes.

Folding her arms and looking at the floor, she murmured, “I know.”

Severus was about to open the door and leave when Hermione practically whispered, “How did you know?”

“How did I know what, Miss Granger?” Professor Snape asked, walking over to stand in front of Hermione.

“That I was in love with you,” Hermione said, a bit surprised that he didn’t know what she was talking about.

Severus blinked once, twice, and then said, “I never knew.”

“But-but,” Hermione sputtered. “Every time you saw me, you-you were so awkward, I-I thought…,” she trailed off.

“Hermione, that was because I am in love with you,” Professor Snape said, quietly, and brushed a strand of her hair off her cheek.

“Oh,” Hermione said, her eyes wide.

“We can never be together, Hermione,” Severus said softly. “Not just because of what society would say, but because I always pictured better things for you. You have so much to look forward to in life, and you know so little about me. I don’t want you to wake up one day and be ashamed for loving me.”

“I would never be ashamed to love you,” Hermione told him honestly, tears welling up in her eyes.

“If you do love me, as you say,” Professor Snape said, as he turned and walked toward the door. “Do not seek me out tomorrow. Please, graduate, get on the train with your parents, and be successful, Miss Granger. You deserve nothing less,” he finished, closing the door behind him gently.

And because Hermione loved him, she did.