Great Plans

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He purposely banged open the door to his classroom, just as he had for every class he had taught in the dungeons of Hogwarts. As he strode down the aisle and stepped up unto the dais that held his desk, he knew he presented a rather chilling figure to even these students who had spent seven years under his tutelage. Today was just another day, after all.

Stepping up to his lectern, he swept his gaze across the room. On his right, were his three Slytherin students--Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. Snape allowed a slight smile play on his lips.

He turned to the seats on his left side. Darius Rooks and Eugenia Kettle, two Ravenclaws sat waiting. He merely looked at them expressionlessly. Then, allowing a slight sneer to cross his lips, he turned to the two who sat in the front row. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Lived-And-Lived, glared up at him, his green eyes seeming larger behind his glasses. Next to him, Hermione Granger, the Brain of the Golden Trio merely looked expectantly at him, eager to begin, happy to learn.

“Open your books to page 493,” he intoned, looking away. “I am certain if anyone besides our resident Know-It-All has read the assigned chapter, you will realize today we will begin brewing the Restful Restorative Draught. This potion is unique because it can be given to those who are grievously injured and why is that?”

Of course, Miss Granger’s hand was in the air almost before he could finish asking the question. He chose to ignore her however and fortunately, for once, Draco had his hand raised.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he acknowledged with a tilt of his head.

“Because it doesn’t interact with any other potion?” Draco answered arrogantly and smugly.

Snape waited a moment, eyebrows raised, to see if Malfoy could actually give the complete answer which, of course, he couldn’t. “Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin. And why does it not react with other potions?” he continued smoothly.

This time, no hand was raised and Miss Granger’s head was bent over her book as if trying to find the answer. Silently, he moved down to stand in front of her desk and placed his palms on either side of the textbook. Leaning over her in his most intimidating manner, he watched her as she slowly raised her head to look at him.

“Miss Granger,” he said in a low voice, “is there really a question you cannot answer? Why does this potion not react adversely to other potions?”

“Because it lacks poppies, Sir,” she answered timidly, but he caught the gleam of triumph in her eyes. It had taken her nearly seven years to force him to allow her to answer a question, but she had finally done it.

He did allow a slight smile play on his lips. “Five points, Miss Granger,” he said silkily and watched as she smiled back, “from Gryffindor.” Her smile faded, but he could nearly see her internal shrug. “You should have raised your hand if you knew the answer.”

Turning back to go to his desk, he nearly missed the restraining hand she placed on Potter’s wrist as the young man opened his mouth to protest that reasoning. She shook her head at her friend and Snape saw the word “no” forming on her lips.

“Five more points from Gryffindor for talking in class,” he murmured, ignoring the smirks of his Slytherin students. Seating himself, he said, “The directions are on the board. You will work in teams on this.”

As the students began filing to the supply stores, he barked, “Potter, you will team with Mr. Zabini on this potion.” In his most condescending tone, he continued, “I am sure Miss Granger can do this potion by herself.”

Hermione straightened her shoulders and gave Harry an apologetic look. Snape pulled the essays he had left to grade in front of him and uncapped his red ink. Bending over the scrolls, he watched her surreptitiously.

The past two years of his NEWT-level Potions class had been unexpectedly pleasant. Longbottom, Crabbe, Goyle, and Weasley were gone. He had been forced to take Potter in, but the young man was proving himself to be adequate. Snape thought that was due to the tutoring ability of a certain Miss Know-It-All rather than Potter’s natural abilities.

Miss Hermione Granger. Unconsciously, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was an extremely intelligent student. One of those rare jewels in an instructor’s career who wanted to learn and was glad to do it. She was also growing up to be a pretty woman.

Her hair was less bushy the longer it got, the weight probably pulling it down straighter. She was a little taller and much thinner than before. No one could accuse her of being a great beauty, but her looks were fair enough. Especially when her large brown eyes gleamed with excitement… or triumph as they had earlier. She had a very expressive face.

Snape looked around the classroom. Malfoy was letting his girlfriend do most of the work again. If only he had managed to get rid of that smug, toadying prat when the rest of his crew dropped out of Potions, Severus thought and realized he was grinding his teeth again.

Potter and Zabini were working together as much as they could without being near each other or speaking to each other. That could be an amusing spectacle. The two Ravenclaw students were harmoniously performing together as an efficient team. And by herself, Miss Granger toiled, a slight smile on her face as she added the first ingredient to her cauldron.

He bent his head back to the scrolls and watched her covertly. She was brilliant. She was pretty. And he suspected she was a more powerful witch than anyone suspected at this point.

There were other points he could consider. Hermione Granger was fiercely loyal to her friends. She understood logic and the benefits of hard work. She also, was the only one of the Golden Trio who understood the multi-faceted role he played day in and day out. Oh, certainly, she would bristle under his unfair comments and point system, but she understood the need to placate the children of Death Eaters.

Give her a few years and she would be a good match for any intelligent wizard. A few years to mature and blossom. A few years to take the stigma of student from her. So far, no male student saw her as more than a tutor. If Snape could manage to keep that an on-going practice with her, he would. What did she value more than companionship, he wondered. Well, learning obviously. And a thought came to him that would keep her safe from the Dark Lord and keep her under his protective custody.

The rest of the period droned on as the students worked in near silence. Finally, he looked up.

“You should be finishing step four by now,” he said, letting everyone know that if you hadn’t, the consequences would be severe. “Put the stasis spell on your cauldrons and move them to the shelves. We will finish this potion next class. Then clean up your workspace.”

Healing potions, strengthening potions, weaponry… did no one understand they were actually preparing for the war that was inevitable? Almost unconsciously, he rubbed the sleeve covering his left forearm.

If she survived, if he survived, then he would give her time to finish growing up. Snape was confident in his powers of manipulation that he could play any positive feeling she had for him and turn it into something more. He didn’t care she was Muggleborn, he dropped that nonsense years ago. She was an intelligent, powerful witch who was good-looking. Once she matured, she would make him a fine wife. All he had to do was wait and make sure they both survived.

The students were through cleaning up. Potter moved back to his regular seat next to Miss Granger. Snape glanced over the class again, looking for any infraction. Malfoy was lounging in his chair, a bored yet smug look on his face. Everyone else was looking at him expectantly.

“Two rolls of parchment on the difference between this draught and those that utilize poppies,” he said. “Due next class.” No one dared groan. “You are dismissed.”

As the students began filing out, Snape called out, “Miss Granger, if you would remain.”

He saw the look she and Potter exchanged before she motioned Potter on. Carrying her ridiculously overstuffed book bag, she returned to stand in front of his desk.

Snape waited until the door creaked closed. “Miss Granger, what are you plans after the NEWTS are over?” he asked smoothly.

“I’m not really sure yet, Sir,” she said in an unexpected, timid candor. “I’m hoping to be taken on as an apprentice, but…”

He arched his eyebrow in silent question as he set his elbows on his desk and templed his fingers under his chin.

“You don’t take apprentices,” she finished in a rush.

“Miss Granger, do you realize the importance of the potions these classes are making?”

Hermione bit her lip for a moment, a habit he hoped age would cure. “Yes Sir, we’re… we’re preparing, Sir. Preparing…” her voice dropped, “for the war.”

“Very good, Miss Granger,” he replied calmly. “Should the Headmaster recommend you apprentice with me, I could hardly fight the suggestion.”

Her eyes brightened and she held her breath for a moment. “Do you really think I could… I could become a Potions Mistress, Sir?” she asked hopefully.

And more, he thought before speaking. “Yes, Miss Granger, I do. Though if you should repeat that, I shall be forced to deny it.”

“Yes, Sir. I understand,” she said, her eyes shining with exuberance. “Should I speak with Professor Dumbledore, Sir?”

“I shall suggest it to the Headmaster, Miss Granger,” he replied. “You should know though, I have plans for you.”

“Thank you, Professor Snape!” she said exuberantly. “I promise, I won’t let you down.”

“Very well, Miss Granger. I shall hold you to that. You may leave.” He watched her depart as he twirled a quill in one hand.

Yes, plans, he thought. His mind conjured images of them, together, working over a cauldron. Then later, returning to their quarters, reading over Potions texts and Ars Alchemica before retiring to their marriage bed. And if she wasn’t a particular lusty female, well, there were potions for that.

Hermione Granger was remarkably easy to manipulate with her love of learning. All it would take was safeguarding her for a few more years.

If they both survived, that is.

“Yes, Miss Granger,” he whispered to the closing door. “I have great plans for you.”

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Author’s Note: This is a first. It’s my first trip on the Good Ship HG/SS. It’s my first story that’s not an NC-17 (archived elsewhere). My muse is happy and hasn’t killed any plot bunnies. Life is good.

Remember, if you read, it’s nice to review. If not here, then review someone else’s work. Make it worthwhile for us who are forced to write by psychotic muses and scared plot bunnies.

Protecting Her

General Disclaimer: Yeah, like I’m really J. K. Rowling… If you believe that, then you belong in St. Mungo’s, not I. “Get away from me, Gilderoy! If I wanted your damned autograph, I’d ask for it!”

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“You don’t want to die a virgin, do you?” Ron asked, pressing wet lips against her neck. His hands were reaching under her white uniform shirt to caress her breasts through her white cotton bra.

Considering the circumstances, she should be thinking of something besides how hard the wall was behind her, shouldn’t she? Hermione only felt uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. She kept waiting for the moment her brain would shut off and her body would take over, but it never came.

Instead, Ron kept grinding against her thigh so hard she wondered if she would be bruised in the morning and one stone kept poking her in the back.

“Ron, stop it!” she squealed as he bit her neck. “What are you? A bloody vampire bat?” She shoved him away and rubbed her neck. With revulsion, she felt her neck wet with his saliva.

“Come on, ‘Mione,” he wheedled, trying to push against her again. “What’s the matter? You know what the Death Eaters will do to you if you’re ever caught? And you and I are high on their hit list because we're close to Harry. Don’t you want your first time with someone you love?”

“Do you mean someone who will use coercion to try to force himself on a woman?” a silky voice asked from the darkness of the hallway. Ron swore under his breath and Hermione felt her disgust at Ron melt into the shame of being caught. And of being caught by all people, Professor Snape.

Hermione shoved Ron further from her, trying to tuck in her blouse and pull down her jumper at the same time. Ron swore under his breath for a second time as Professor Snape entered the third floor alcove.

He stood in the darkness, looking down on them for a moment as if considering his options. “Your cloaking charm on this alcove was… almost efficient. Had I not been patrolling these hallways for years, I might have walked by. It was yours, was it not, Miss Granger?” Snape asked in a low tone.

When she nodded, he snapped out, “Speak aloud, you silly girl. I do not want to hear your head rattle!”

“Yes, Sir,” she muttered, looking down at her scuffed shoes. “It was mine.”

“Much better, Miss Granger,” he replied smoothly, his voice dropping. “Mr. Weasley, for your future reference, rather than trying to frighten a woman into your bed, you might want to impress her instead with your heroics.” At Ron’s blank look, Snape sneered.

“I should have known you lacked the intellectual capabilities to understand that.” Snape stood in front of Ron. “Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Snape barked at him, “Leave now or I will make it forty!” he spat out. “And if you were in Slytherin, I would make it fifty for such a clumsy, heavy-handed seduction attempt.”

“Hermione?” Ron questioned as he took a step to the hallway.

“Oh, Miss Granger is staying,” Snape’s voice caressed the dark night. “I have a few words for our… Head Girl.”

The derision forced into those two words caused Hermione’s cheeks to grow hot with embarrassment. Why did I agree to meet Ron tonight? she wondered. Will I lose my apprenticeship? Will I have to give up my Head Girl badge? Surely they can’t expel me? Then she realized, with Professor Snape, expulsion was still a possibility. What would happen then?

“Take this,” he said in a low voice, close enough she could feel his breath on her cheek. A piece of linen was pressed into her hand and she realized it was a handkerchief.

Is he going to make me cry? she speculated.

“Wipe your neck, Miss Granger,” he hissed. “The boy… drooled all over it. Just like he has been drooling over you for weeks.”

“Oh,” she said weakly, having a strange feeling of unreality about this entire scenario. She blotted her nape while waiting for his diatribe to begin.

“Lumos,” he murmured and held it close to her shoulder, before snorting in derision. “And he has called me a vampire bat,” he muttered as he bent down to inspect her neck. “Perhaps someone should inform Mr. Weasley that the presence of teeth marks in a ‘love bite’ are not required.”

He looked up into her eyes and she was suddenly very much aware of him, not as a professor, but as a man. “Unless you… enjoy pain, Miss Granger?” he suggested icily.

“No,” she muttered, feeling more ashamed and closer to tears than before. “I just wanted…” she broke off realizing she, for once, had no words to describe what she wanted. So she stood in embarrassed silence as he stood again to full height.

Reaching into a pocket of his voluminous robes, he withdrew a jar of salve, still managing to keep his wand raised to the level of her shoulder. Holding both the wand and jar in his right hand, he took his left hand and gently brushed her hair away from the nape. His fingers barely brushing the delicate skin, but she felt electricity down to her toes and her breath caught in her throat. Luckily, Professor Snape didn’t seem to catch that reaction.

“This will not hurt,” he informed her as he took the lid off the jar. She held out her hand to hold it for him. It was surely her imagination that his long fingers caressed her hand for a moment as he deposited the lid into her open palm.

“You should consider this, Miss Granger,” he murmured, bending back down, level with her face. “That we are doing our best to keep you safe, so you will not fall into the hands of the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord.” She gasped as the cold gel touched her skin. His fingers rubbed it in lightly.

“Should our endeavors fail,” he continued in his low voice as he placed his fingers back into the jar, slowly coating the pads of his index and middle finger with more balm. “We shall strive to rescue you as quickly as possible.”

She nodded as she nervously bit her lip. “I know… I know that, Sir. I have faith in you.”

The light from his wand was dim, but she thought he gave a small, mocking smile as he paused. “You do not believe I am working for my own ends then?” he questioned, silkily.

“No, Professor Snape,” she replied and placed her hand over his wrist. “I trust you.”

“Indeed,” he murmured and moved his hand to re-apply another coating of healing unguent on her throat. “The lid, please?”

Hermione handed it back to him. “I know you would do your best to protect me.” Then, giving a rueful smile, she added, “You always have. Even when we didn’t know you were doing it.”

Slipping the jar back into his pocked, he gave her a long look. “As embarrassing as this question is to ask and to have answered, is Mr. Weasley correct in assuming you are a virgin?”

A verbal response surely isn’t necessary, Hermione thought as she blushed deeply and looked at the floor, but she spoke it in a whisper anyway, “Yes, Sir. I am.”

Professor Snape put his hand to her chin and tilted her head up, but instead of looking into her eyes, he stared at her neck again and moved his wand up to it and began murmuring a healing spell. When he finished, he looked into her eyes and in the darkness of the alcove, she couldn’t distinguish his pupils from his irises… both were totally black and unfathomable.

“Miss Granger,” he said in a low, deep voice. “You are adult enough that I am sure you have heard what goes on at the Dark Revels.” Apparently, he took the look in her eyes as an answer.

“Virgin blood is especially precious. You realize what potions utilize it.” She tried to nod, but his fingers were still on her chin. “As the Dark Lord’s most trusted and skilled Potions master, I am in charge of making sure all the Dark Rituals are met in… harvesting this ingredient.”

Hermione gasped.

“If you are ever captured, your virginity may save you,” he informed her. “It will at least put you closer to me, so that I may save you. Do you understand?” His hand gently caressed her chin before he removed it.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

“I would advise you to leave boys like Mr. Weasley alone for now,” Snape responded. “A man who would use fear to coerce you is not a man at all. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then return my handkerchief and return to your dormitory,” he replied in his usual icy manner. When she hesitated, he asked irritably, “What now, Miss Granger?”

She placed his handkerchief in his hand. “Thank you, Professor Snape,” she said, a trifle breathlessly. “But aren’t you going to take points off me?”

“I believe the teeth marks in your neck were sufficient punishment for now,” Snape replied stiffly. “But if you are really asking about the apprenticeship, you should realize I cannot go against a direct order from the Headmaster.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Sir. For everything. It’s easier knowing you‘re protecting me.”

He listened to her heels echoing down the hallway until he could hear them no more. Her skin had been cool when he touched it, he thought as he squeezed the handkerchief in his hand. The handkerchief containing the saliva of one Ronald Weasley. It would work better in the small charms he had been casting on Miss Granger.

Small charms. Not really Dark Magic. Just small repulsion charms to keep her disinterested in Mr. Weasley.

Whether or not she came to their future marriage bed a virgin, was immaterial to him. In fact, it might be better if she wasn’t one. He had no experience with virgins, but from what he had heard, the first time for a woman was rarely enjoyable for either partner. But he would be damned before she gave it up to either Mr. Weasley or Mr. Potter.

After all, he was protecting her. Just like she said.

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Author’s Note Merlin says: “Great magic is performed by those who read; but greater magic is performed by those who read and rate.” If this isn’t your favorite cauldron of potion, then review somewhere else.

General Disclaimer: Of course I don’t own it, though I wish I did. Do you think Jo will let me have Severus Snape? Well, I guess I’ll just have to borrow them and return them before their due date.

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Grief comes in many differing forms. For some, it comes with an overwhelming anger, anger that the world would take this from your life. Others feel overcome by depression, some going to the extreme of choosing death rather than living with the emptiness of loss. Few deny what has happened, keeping the same routines as if their loved one was merely gone for the day. Still, nearly all those who have suffered a loss speak of numbness, a deadness that encompasses body, mind and soul.

Hermione Granger knew about the numbness. Having lost her parents nearly eighteen months earlier, shortly after beginning her Potions apprenticeship with Professor Severus Snape, she lost herself in hard work and study. Both were cure-alls in the past. She lived one day at a time, not knowing happiness nor too much sadness, just existing in a cocoon that was devoid of emotion and sensation.

That had changed a month ago when Severus returned from a meeting with Voldemort. His orders had been clear: try to get information from the Mudblood Granger girl using any means possible. In fact, the Dark Lord had ordered Severus to seduce her.

Pumping me for information while pumping into me, she thought with a mental snort worthy of her mentor.

When she was six, Hermione had her tonsils removed in a Muggle hospital. When she began fighting her way out of the anesthesia, she was surprised to find she could struggle a bit towards wakefulness, but would fall back under. But each time, she fought, she came a little closer to awareness until she finally won and came out from under the effects.

The night he had reluctantly told her the Dark Lord’s orders, Severus had kissed her. She had been kissed before. Victor and Ron had both kissed her. Even Harry had kissed her once during their Seventh Year. She had felt little with those kisses except a bit of revulsion as she wondered why a boy’s tongue was so wet and slobbery.

It had bothered her. Being analytical, she wondered if she was not attracted to boys because she was attracted to girls. Her minority status kept getting her into smaller and smaller groups. From the other children of her age, she was a bookworm. Then a witch. Why not a lesbian? She’d probably, eventually end up in the bookworm-witch-lesbian-who-likes-Medieval-Poetry group by herself and ensure she’d end up alone somewhere with a multitude of cats.

However, from observation of the girls at Hogwarts, she found they fell into two categories--those who had bodies she wished she had and those who had bodies she was glad she didn’t. Neither group appealed to her sexually, however. The thought of kissing another girl excited her as much as the thought of kissing Ron did.

Hermione decided she would probably end up alone as the bookworm-witch-asexual-who-likes-Medieval-Poetry and still have a multitude of cats. Being logical, she threw herself with renewed vigor into her studies and was shocked when Severus had offered her an apprenticeship. She could be a Potions mistress! And, if this war ever ended with the Good Guys winning, Severus might get the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and she would teach at Hogwarts.

Then her parents had been murdered. The only reason she was alive today was due to the apprenticeship or she would have been with her parents. Perhaps she could have fought back or summoned help, but more than likely her corpse would have been found next to the bodies of her parents. From that day on, the numbness settled on her like a robe made of gauze. No one else seemed to see it, but she could feel it. Lack of sleep; brewing the most boring potions; grading student essays; barely seeing her friends since Ginny took her NEWTS; and the nightmares. All things combined to make the numbness tangible.

Until Severus had kissed her and she began feeling that she was fighting to wake up, to leave that deadness behind. However, in the month since, he had not kissed her again. They had had two ‘shopping trips’ to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley and one to the Apothecary in Hogsmeade. On all three expeditions, Severus was the consummate gentleman, offering his arm; carrying the packages; opening doors; taking her to lunch. After nearly nine years of sarcasm and sneers (not to mention his bad days), it was almost like being with someone totally new and different.

Someone she liked very much.

But the most he would do is caress the back of her hand or lay his hand on her shoulder. He watched her, however. Hermione realized that quickly. Even now, at 12 Grimmauld Place, Severus was in the shadows but every so often, she was convinced he was watching her.

Why?

She still felt tired and mentally sluggish, but sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for the meeting to begin, she began putting her mind to work. After all, she had been called the cleverest witch of her generation; it was past time to wake up from her grief and put that mind to work.

Why would Professor Severus Snape kiss her like that and then barely touch her? Was he just not interested in her? No, that couldn’t be it. He was touching her hands now, in private. He had also taken to standing very close to her when working together on a potion.

Perhaps he was merely trying to ease into her comfort level so the next steps would be less unpleasant for her, less of a shock? Hermione discarded that idea. It was hard to believe Severus Snape would be that solicitous unless…

Unless he cared.

That thought drew her up short. Could he care for her? In that way? That idea got dropped also. After all, he was a pureblood wizard according to Which Witch: A Who’s Who of the Wizarding World; a renowned Potions master; a powerful wizard in his own right; and he seemed to like most people, especially Gryffindors, as much as he liked Blast-Ended Skrewts.

But why did he take you on as an apprentice if he didn’t care? her mind asked. He’s never taken on an apprentice before, in all of his years of teaching. But she had asked for an apprenticeship, hadn’t she?

No, her inner voice reminded, he asked you about your post-NEWT plans and you mentioned you would love to apprentice but he didn’t take apprentices. He was the one who approached Professor Dumbledore to make it seem like an order.

She touched the chain of the locket he had given her for Christmas, an expensive present that was touching in its thoughtfulness. Very out of character for the taciturn Potions master. Not to mention nights she forgot to eat, he would order food for her. True, there was always a sarcastic comment involved such as, “Aren’t you glad you were not able to free the house-elves, Hermione?”, but that was just… Snape.

Still, there were little kindnesses. He would mark articles in periodicals for her. Not just potions items either, but pieces on charms and transfigurations. Things that interested her that few seemed to have the time or inclination to discuss. Severus loaned her books from his personal library and always seemed willing to talk about what she read. And, after her parents’ murders, when the nightmares were the worst, Severus made certain there was a vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion for her when she needed it.

It led to one conclusion and one conclusion only. By Snape standards, he was extraordinarily nice to her. And it wasn’t just to garner her consent to playing along with the fake seduction because it started long before Voldemort issued his decree.

Perhaps that was why he was not forcing his attentions on her? Perhaps he did care for her feelings? She had to admit that she had been attracted to him for several years now. In fact, it was the night he discovered her with Ron and had taken the time to heal her neck where Ron had gotten carried away with a love bite.

She had wanted to love Ron and she did love him, but only as a brother. There was no passion grand or small with him. On her part, anyway. But a touch of her hand by Severus made her heart skip. If that wasn’t passion, then she’d settle for whatever it was.

And perhaps he didn’t care for her in that way, well, she might be able to convince him to see otherwise if he were given the proper motivation. Before she could think further on how to get Severus’ attention in that way, the Weasley clan arrived in full-force.

Ginny greeted her enthusiastically. After her NEWTs, Ginny was hired at the Ministry of Magic as a secretary in the Magical Law Enforcement Division. It was a low-paying clerical job that enabled her to research trends and movements of the Death Eaters while spying on other Ministry workers in a position that was nearly invisible.

It was enjoyable to talk to her friend and soon Ginny’s brothers began joining them. Fred and George were the first. The twins had become more somber as the war started becoming more openly aggressive. Their joke shop was also responsible for developing new tools and weapons for the Order. Bill soon came over to sit with them as well. Hermione found herself content to listen and watch as the siblings interacted in a boisterous manner.

“What have you been up to, Hermione?” Bill asked with a grin. He was still a curse-breaker for Gringotts, but used his position to watch the cash flow of suspected Death Eaters.

“The usual apprentice duties,” she answered, smiling at him.

“Ah, I remember my apprentice days very well,” he told her. “You’re doing grunt work. Thankless chores. Mind-numbing monotony.”

Hermione couldn’t help laughing at his mournful expression. “I’m learning a lot though. Severus is an excellent mentor.” She turned and smiled at the dark wizard she knew was watching her. Severus stood with his back to the wall, watching, but she could tell by his stiff posture and the blazing of his black eyes that he was furious. Quickly, she turned back to Bill and asked what he was doing.

She listened with half an ear while Bill talked about the latest cursed objects he had been working with. Severus was angry and she knew it was because she was talking with Bill. It was ridiculous because she didn’t have feelings for him or any of the Weasley boys. They were too much like brothers to her. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking Severus was jealous.

Okay, maybe I’m deluding myself, she thought. But would it be wrong to check this theory? Bill, she knew from stories his sister told, was a natural-born flirt. Why not let him flirt with me? I don’t have to encourage him, just not discourage him.

As she was listening to Bill and the Twins, she placed her hand on Bill’s to get his attention to ask him about the spell he used to disarm a locked box. He quickly offered to show it to her and before she knew it, she was standing with Bill pressed against her back, directing her wand movements. His hand was over her wrist as he taught her the incantation for Dark Magic dispersal.

Albus walked in at that moment and was greeted by several members. He made his way to Severus and spoke in a low tone but two words carried throughout the kitchen of Grimmauld.

“The Dark Mark”

Instantly, conversations stilled as everyone in the room turned and listened to find out who had been lost this time. Hermione sat down quickly, trembling, as Albus turned about and looked over the stilled room. “The Collins house,” he said sadly, his eyes not twinkling, but filled with an expression that was both hurt and enraged. “The Collins girl is missing. Her parents, however…” Albus looked at Hermione and his voice trailed off as she felt grief for her own parents strike suddenly.

“I will see what I can find out,” Severus said in his deep voice, his countenance set. “However, Miss Granger will need to be escorted back to Hogwarts, Headmaster.”

“I’ll see she gets there safely,” Bill volunteered, placing his hand on her shoulder. Severus gave a small snort and turned back to Albus.

“Perhaps an Auror?” he suggested silkily, dismissing Bill’s offer.

“They are at the Collins’ house, Severus,” Albus said slowly. “The ones we can trust. But rest assured, Hermione will be taken care of.”

For a moment, it appeared that Severus would argue, but with his jaw set, he merely nodded and took his cape from the peg on the wall. He was stalking off, tossing his cape around his shoulders before anyone could react.

“Martha Collins was in my year,” Ginny whispered.

He’s leaving angry, Hermione thought. He can’t be using Occlumency if he’s angry. Shrugging off Bill’s hand, she raced up the stairs after him, ignoring the startled looks of the other Order members.

He was just opening the door to leave. “Severus, wait!” she called out.

For a moment, he paused with the door half-opened, then he slowly closed it and turned to face her. Giving an irritated glance to the draped portrait of Mrs. Black, he motioned her into the parlor.

“What is it, Hermione?” he hissed. “I am in rather a hurry. A young woman’s life is at stake.”

“Please, be careful, Severus,” she said, shakily and couldn’t stop tears from silently forming.

“Perhaps you should follow your own advice,” he said in a nastily low voice. “And avoid Weasley males unless you have the proper contraceptives.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t care about them,” she whispered in anguish. “I want you to be careful.”

He pulled her to him roughly and took possession of her mouth in a kiss that was more an outlet for jealousy than physical ardor. But for Hermione, she felt only her own passion and parted her lips as felt his tongue brush against them. She kissed him back, touching her tongue to his and melting against him. When he withdrew, she could feel his anger dissipating like fog in the morning sun.

Severus raised his hand to her cheek and brushed the tears away. “I will be back,” he whispered. “Remember that.” Even in the dim light, she could see his eyes glittering strangely triumphant as he turned and walked out of the room. She heard the front door open, then close as she stood there, in the darkness and wondered exactly what she wanted from him.

And more importantly, what did he want from her?

---

Author’s Notes: Before you ask, yes, he is coming back. No, he hasn’t been killed. I know now how this will end, I’m just not sure how we’re going to get there.

Just a reminder that this is a series of vignettes in the relationship of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger. I write when the plot bunny dictates. Believe me, I wish I could write this story at will. However, the more reviews, the more the bunnies plot (like all good plot bunnies should). And I’d like to point out for everyone who thinks reviewing doesn’t mean anything, this is the sixth chapter of a one-shot. The reviews keep it, and the bunny, alive. And I thank each and every person who has taken the time to review. You have no clue what it means to me.

Disclaimer: If you really think that I am J. K. Rowling, then I’m really worried about you.

---

Waiting.

Waiting was probably the hardest thing to do, Hermione decided. Severus had left several hours ago to try to discover what had happened to Martha Collins and, if she were still alive, to try to rescue her.

Albus Dumbledore had returned Hermione to Hogwarts almost as soon as Severus left, much to Bill’s chagrin. Sleep was suggested by the Headmaster. But Hermione knew she would not be able to sleep until Severus returned. It was ominous to note he had not been summoned, yet he was still prowling around and would be asking questions of the other Death Eaters. It was a dangerous activity. Should Voldemort become too suspicious of the Potions master’s questions, it would mean the end of Severus.

And so, Hermione instead went to the Potions lab and checked over the stores to see if they were low enough on anything to justify brewing it. Eventually, she decided the Skele-Gro was low enough and she set up her cauldron to begin brewing a batch.

---

Severus Snape strode quickly through a hidden passage waving a stretcher before him. It took only a few moments, but he felt as if an hourglass were trickling the sand faster and faster. There were two bodies on the stretcher and he bellowed for Poppy even before he reached the doors of the Hospital Wing. Poppy rushed to open the doors and helped guide the stretcher in.

“Two of them, Severus?” she asked with concern. “Is one of them…”

“I believe so,” Severus bit out. “It is rather difficult to tell.”

Poppy moved each of the bodies to their own bed and began running her wand over one girl, doing diagnostic magic. “She’s under stasis?” Poppy queried, a frown appearing on her face.

“They both are,” Severus snarled. “They would have died otherwise.”

The mediwitch did not point out that they could still lose one or both of the girls just by bringing them out of stasis. She knew Severus would never have done this unless he felt it was truly necessary.

He moved off to the fireplace and performed a quick Incendio. With a pinch of Floo powder, he made a fire-call to the Headmaster. Albus informed him he would be down momentarily. Next, Severus fire-called Hermione. Instinct told him she would be in the Potions lab. His instinct proved correct.

“Hermione,” he ground out, “bring four Medi-cases to the Hospital Wing immediately.” Severus did not wait for a verbal response, but pulled his head out of the fireplace and returned to Poppy’s side. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve got this one, I think she is the worst off,” Poppy told him. “You can start with that one. She has three broken ribs on the right side and I fear her lung is punctured.”

For several moments, they worked in silence trying to repair the injuries the girls had suffered. Poppy realized there was so much damage that without the stasis spell, neither girl would have made it to Hogwarts. Hermione entered with the Medi-cases. It had been her idea some months prior, to make up cases similar to Muggle first-aid kits. However, these kits contained potions that could almost bring a person back from death. They were also shrinkable, ensuring every member of The Order of the Phoenix was able to carry two of them at all times.

“Leave the cases and go,” commanded Severus. There was no reason why she should have to see such carnage.

Hermione set the cases down and open them, beginning to hand out potions. Severus glared at her, seething inwardly. Can’t she see that I’m trying to spare her this? It was bad enough that he had had to see it, to have to pretend to revel in the destruction of another human being.

“Hermione, I will need four vials of Blood Replenishing potion,” Poppy ordered. “And some Skele-Gro.”

The young witch withdrew several vials of the Blood Replenishing potion from one pocket and some Skele-Gro from her other pocket. She looked at the two young girls anxiously.

“Why aren’t they breathing?” she asked hesitantly.

“I used a stasis potion,” Snape snapped. His irritation at her questions was obvious. He looked up and saw her quizzical expression. “Really, Hermione,” he said sarcastically. “You do not remember the First year speech? Brew fame, bottle glory and…”

“Even put a stopper in death,” they said the line together. Busy as he was, Severus was secretly pleased that she said it in the exact same vocal intonations as he did.

“Very good, Hermione,” he said softly and noticed Poppy’s startled gaze. Severus bent his head and began working on the girl.

Albus walked quickly into the Hospital ward. “Severus, I am glad you are safe.” He regarded Poppy's young patient. “I see you found Miss Collins.” His voice was grave.

“Lucius Malfoy was celebrating his release from Azkaban,” Severus said bitterly. “These two girls were part of the entertainment.” He began casting a spell to heal broken ribs.

“Any idea who the second girl is?” Poppy interrupted.

Severus shook his head. “I believe she is a Muggle, but I am not sure,” he admitted. “I felt I had a chance to save these two.”

Hermione gasped at the thought there were more he could not save. She wondered how such evil madmen could be allowed to flourish in the world. And caught herself wondering how much of it Severus saw--or worse, had to participate in, simply so that the Order of the Phoenix could be supplied with information. She glanced at him just as he was looking up at her. His jaw was set and she knew he could see the sorrow in her eyes.

The Headmaster began assisting in the healing of Martha Collins, who was in far worse shape than the poor unnamed Muggle. Eventually, Severus stepped back and said, “I’ve done all that I can for this one.”

Poppy nodded. “I believe we have done all that we can for Miss Collins, too.”

From his voluminous cloak, Severus produced a battered potions case. He unwarded it and took out two tiny vials of a red potion. Wordlessly, he handed one to Albus. Hermione knew it must be the antidote to the stasis potion. It crossed her mind what an incredibly brave, risky thing Severus had done by slipping the potion to each of the girls and placing them in stasis.

Gently, the girls’ mouths were opened and the reviving potion was poured into their mouths. Hermione watched in silence, barely breathing, as Severus held the Muggle girl in one arm and tenderly rubbed her throat with his long fingers. There was a slight feeling of unreality to the scene, Hermione thought. She would have thought the Head of Slytherin would carry his House’s prejudice against Muggles. But from the look on Severus’ face, at this moment in time, saving this girl’s life was the most important thing he would ever do.

It was then, Hermione knew she could love this man. It wasn’t the kindness he showed her, or his jealousy, but the fact he would go to any length to save an unknown Muggle girl. The Muggle girl was the one who swallowed first, and came back to life coughing and sputtering.

The girl opened her eyes and glanced around fearfully. Albus spoke to her quietly and told her she was safe now.

“Dreamless Sleep potion, Hermione,” Severus commanded, holding out his hand without looking at her. Hermione placed the vial in his open hand wordlessly and watched as he coaxed the young girl to drink it.

“M-my m-mother,” she begged him, her hands clutching at his wrists.

In a tone that was unrecognizable as that of the Potions professor who terrorized his students, Severus softly told her that they were being looked after and she needed to drink this medicine. Hermione was not surprised to see the girl obey. As soon as she began drifting to sleep, Severus eased her back on pillows and drew the blankets around her. Quickly, he moved over to the Collins girl and asked after her.

“She’s breathing but still unconscious,” Poppy answered him. “I think it’s because of her head injury, but I won’t be able to tell until that has had a chance to heal.”

“You have saved two of them, Severus,” Albus said gently.

“And I left more to die,” Severus ground out as he closed his potions case and re-warded it before returning it to his pocket.

“You cannot save everyone, Severus,” Albus reminded him. “Because of you, these two girls will live.”

Severus turned to the sleeping forms and sneered, “Will either of them be thankful in the morning when they wake and find themselves orphaned? Will they be grateful I left others of their family there to suffer and die? Or will they curse me and say they would rather be dead?”

“Once they realize what you’ve done,” Hermione interjected firmly, “they will be grateful.”

“So you say, so you say,” Severus remarked, deriding her opinion. “It has been my experience that people are rarely appreciative that you have allowed their family to die.” He turned and stalked out of the infirmary, his black cloak billowing behind him.

“I don’t understand why they let him leave with the girls,” Hermione murmured to herself. But Dumbledore heard her.

“Severus routinely tells the Death Eaters that he needs body parts for various potions,” Albus explained. “In that way, he is allowed to walk through the survivors and choose his ‘victims’. He can usually escape with one or two that way.”

Poppy looked up from tending Martha Collins. “But Severus only remembers the ones he cannot save,” she said, looking grim.

“He seems to forget that there are many people who owe him their very life,” Albus said stroking his beard.

Hermione stared at the doors from which the Potions master had exited. As usual, she was thinking extremely hard, barely hearing Albus and Poppy’s discussion on when they would Obliviate the Muggle girl and how to turn her over to Muggle authorities.

If one would have asked her while she was still a student her opinion of Severus Snape, Hermione would have said he was a strict teacher-sarcastic, but still deserving of respect. Lately, she had been seeing quite a different side of him. Hermione realized his interest in her surpassed a mentor status and how it must have galled him to be ordered by Voldemort to seduce her. She had assumed his reluctance to touch her was due to his prejudice. She was, after all, a ‘Mudblood’.

Now, after seeing the lengths to which he would go to save an unnamed Muggle girl, Hermione wondered from where his unwillingness came. Could it be that he was being a gentleman? Did he simply not want to force her?

After seeing this other side of him, Hermione decided to give him a bit more time, but not long.

She was tired of waiting.

---

Authors Notes: Yes, the infamous plot bunny has spoken. I am so grateful this story has garnered so many terrific, loyal readers! Your reviews keep this alive. It started out as a one-shot and has grown, thanks to you.

I would also like to make some special thanks here to my two Angels who spent a good deal of their money on Dragonspeak Voice Recognition Software for me. It has become increasingly difficult to type and with this software, I am able to continue telling stories and keep my plot bunnies happy. Thank you both very much!

As always, please feed the bunnies. Thank you all!

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, but you can still have my autograph. Sorry, that was just a Gilderoy moment.

---

Severus Snape was a puzzle.

No, Hermione decided. He was worse than a puzzle. Puzzles had solutions, answers. Severus was an undecipherable enigma. As often as her mind drifted back to him, she could find no rhyme or reason for his behavior.

While they were students, Professor Snape was the bane of their existence, superseded only by Voldemort. Yet, despite his dislike for them, he risked his life time and time again to save them. He was a loyal member of the Order, yet, he had been a Death Eater. He would take his chances on saving those he could, including Muggles, but he didn’t seem concerned with saving his own life. He had been ordered by Voldemort to seduce her for information or his life would be forfeited, yet all he would do was kiss her goodnight.

She couldn’t figure him out. Was it because she was a Mudblood? Did he not find her attractive? Did his interests lie in...other areas? Or, was it some other reason beyond her ken?

Not that she was complaining about his kisses, mind you. Severus Snape was thoroughly skilled in the art of kissing. That was a thought she would wager that the students of Hogwarts had never entertained. That man could kiss better than anyone had a right to.

Their nightly exchange had progressed to a set formula. He would walk her to her room and stop her when she gave the password to enter. As the door swung open, she would look up to meet those fathomless, black eyes and he would slowly drop his gaze to her lips, then back to her eyes. His hand would move to the back of her head, controlling her movements and he would brush his lips against hers, almost as if giving her time to protest.

The second kiss deepened; his lips more demanding as they parted and the tip of his tongue swept against her mouth. Her lips would open then and he would taste her, and she him. What would follow were several long moments of pure, unadulterated snogging. The kind of activity about which he would make cutting remarks and deduct a large number of House points, if he had caught it occurring between students. Just when her hands would begin pulling him closer, he would break the kiss and stare at her intently for a moment. Hermione could never read the emotion in his eyes. In a remarkably even (though deep and sexy) voice, he would bid her good evening. Then he would leave, black robes billowing behind him, apparently neither realizing nor concerned that he’d left her in a puddle of desire.

As many times as Hermione turned this puzzle called Severus Snape over in her mind, she was still no closer to a solution.

---

He was in an excellent mood. It was Christmas hols and having no classes to teach cheered him. Contrary to popular opinion, Severus did not hate teaching or his students, but being a Death Eater and a spy for the Order in addition to teaching were too much of a strain for one man to handle. Not to mention, spending every bit of his “free time” plotting the seduction of his apprentice, cut into his time.

The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her. In the Potions lab, she was a gifted assistant and seemed to anticipate his needs. In the classroom, she was now teaching first through fourth years and excelling. Not to mention, she took over the tedious essay grading for all but his OWL and NEWT classes. Could he be blamed for constantly wondering how she would be in the bedroom?

However, Severus was discovering something he had not anticipated: he wanted her to want him. It wasn’t enough that he could manipulate her into allowing him into her bed. If that were the case, he would’ve manufactured a need for Virgin’s Blood and allowed her Gryffindor sensibilities to step forward. Once in her bed, he was convinced he could show her enough pleasure to be allowed back, however, he wanted her to invite him in. He wanted her to choose him and he wondered why he was developing a conscience this late in life. It was most inconvenient.

Whenever he was summoned, she would be in the lab, waiting for him to return. She kept Medi-cases with her constantly and included special potions to deal with the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. He had never wanted anyone fussing over him before, but found her ministrations were not as unwelcome as he had expected. On occasions in which he would return unharmed, she would pour him a snifter of brandy and sit in blissful silence, never questioning him.

He had asked her once, “Tell me, Hermione, you constantly ask questions. Yet you never ask me about the Revels. Why?” Severus knew by asking, he was opening a Pandora’s box--she might feel free to begin asking.

“Because I don’t believe you really want to tell anyone,” Hermione answered, giving him a long look. “But if you should, I would be willing to listen.”

It must have been the brandy. Or perhaps it was too many nights without sleep. Maybe he was worn down from being a pawn for both sides, constantly provoked by both masters. Or he might have been spoiling for a fight, needing an excuse to rant and rave, a reason to express all the emotion he was forced to bottle inside. But he found himself asking, “Do you really want to know?”

“Do you really want to tell me?” she asked quietly. “Because if you are brave enough to live through it, I can be brave enough to hear it, if it will bring you any sort of ease.”

That twisty feeling he occasionally felt around her, happened then. He was seated in his armchair and she was curled up on his divan with her feet tucked underneath her. The only light came from the fireplace and she looked so young, but so desirable, that he wanted to take her then and there on the Oriental carpet. Instead, he escorted her back to her room and kissed her.

She was a weakness and he had excised other weaknesses from his life as neatly as a Muggle surgeon. But he found himself unable to excise her - the only light in his darkness. He no longer wished to manipulate her by making kind gestures, though his motivation was still as selfish. The sight of her smile was addictive to him, and realizing he had the power to make her happy. Too much of his life had been spent on making people miserable, but her… he could make her happy.

As usual, they were in his private laboratory which was much more work-efficient than the school lab. That laboratory was intended as a classroom and this workspace was designed for experimentation and more in-depth study of potions. There was equipment here that his seventh year NEWTs students would be hard-pressed to identify.

“In just a moment, Hermione, I will need you,” he informed her in a low tone as he watched the last few grains of sand trickle down into the bottom of the hour glass. By a prearranged signal, she opened the door to his custom-built Dark Cabinet and stood with a timer in hand. The Dark Cabinet was a cupboard that had been bewitched to block out all air and light. The preservation spells were costly to obtain, and as he was a Potions master of a school rather than a research facility, he could only justify owning one.

As the last grain of sand fell, he cut the heat to the cauldron and covered it. Wearing his dragon hide gloves, Severus quickly carried the cauldron to the Cabinet. When he shut the door, Hermione set the timer for 169.5 hours.

“Now we wait.” Even as he said it, he knew his words were unnecessary and he mentally sneered at himself for stating the obvious. He was doing that often lately, using empty words to fill up the space. Looking around, he was not surprised to find that Hermione had already cleared the rest of the lab. As an apprentice, she was truly exceptional. She would make a fine Potions mistress one day.

Ah, if only she would make a fine mistress to the Potions master, his inner voice chuckled ruefully. But he didn’t want her only for a mistress; he wanted her as his wife.

“I believe we are finished for the night,” he continued. “I shall accompany you back to your room now.”

After warding the door to his private laboratory, he walked with her through the dungeons. When she was a child, Hermione chattered constantly, asking questions. Now that she was an adult, he wished for her to talk, but did not know how to encourage her to do so. They proceeded in silence to the portrait of Lucretia Borgia. Hermione gave the password and stood looking at Snape expectantly as the portrait opened

He always paused before kissing her, giving her time to refuse or turn away. She hadn’t yet, but Severus always made certain he gave her the option. Their first kiss would be one of promise, light and teasing. It was always in the hallway, just in case any of the Dark Lord’s spies were hiding. Severus despised public displays of affection but he loathed even more having to use Hermione in this way, though she never complained.

The second kiss would be the one in which he allowed his passion for her to surface. He would taste the sweetness of her innocence and it would soothe his parched soul. One hand would be caressing her head through her thick but silky hair, and the other would be on her shoulder. Severus never allowed himself to go further, or he would forget his resolve that she must freely give herself, and give in to the temptation that constantly tormented him. Hermione had to offer herself willingly in this last, but final step between them.

She never did.

Looking into her eyes and seeing the trust she had for him, Severus would turn away from her and quickly walk away before his resolve shattered. She never called him back or ever spoke of it the next day.

That night was no different. Hermione gave the password and he kissed her twice as the orange, furry, overstuffed pillow she called a familiar raced passed them. And again, looking into her eyes, he could not continue. Severus could not abuse the trust she had placed in him. He had manipulated her to this point, but she would have to take the next step.

Releasing her, he turned on his heel and began walking away when her voice stopped him.

“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” Her voice was steady, but he heard the undercurrents of uncertainty.

Severus returned to her. “If I come in, I will expect more than tea,” he warned her in a low growl.

Once again, Hermione surprised him by smiling. ”I was hoping you would.” She took his hand and led him into her room.

---

They continued in this fashion for several months--associates by day and lovers by night. Technically, Hermione still had a year to complete her apprenticeship, but she was moving rapidly into the area of theory and was beginning to map out her first original project. While his life still had to be lived within the confines of the Order and Voldemort, Hogwarts was an island of stabililty within the midst of chaos. Severus found himself wondering what would happen if they both survived and could continue tandem teaching. He found himself dreaming that once Voldemort was vanquished, Dumbledore would seriously consider him as a candidate for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Hermione would become the new Potions professor.

His hopes and his dreams, his schemes and his manipulations, kept his spirit alive. After each Dark Revel, he would return to find Hermione waiting for him anxiously. Severus discovered he enjoyed holding her while he slept. He also found out that she was a demanding lover at times, but equally giving.

He was as content as he had ever been with his life. And then it was over. The defeat of Voldemort was more anti-climatic than anyone had ever anticipated. Severus himself had thought it would end with a fierce battle on Hogwarts’ grounds, and he had dreaded it coming to pass.

With the help of a few locator charms, Harry Potter, Aurors, and the Order of the Phoenix Apparated into a gathering of Death Eaters. Potter had cast a curse he had been learning on Voldemort, killing the Dark wizard while trapping his spirit inside the dying body. Severus tossed off his mask and robes when he heard the multiple crackles of Apparition from behind him. It was simply a matter of stunning the remaining Death Eaters and taking them into custody. There were surprisingly few injuries on either side.

It was the summer hols and Severus returned to the castle alone, leaving Hermione in the arms of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The winners were still congratulating each other and removing the stunned Death Eaters for trial. But Severus was still in shock that there had been no Final Battle. He had never been certain he would live this long. So he lost himself in introspection.

She was young. She was fearless. She was one of the most talented students in all disciplines of magic that he had ever seen. And he knew that he loved her. He had never met anyone else quite like her. Yet he had spent years manipulating her to rely on him and to trust him.

Love, he discovered, was not the emotion he had always thought it was. If you loved someone, it did not make you weak. It was his love for her that made him strong now. He made his way to his office and began writing. Once finished, he blotted the parchment carefully and duplicated it for his records. She had not returned yet, so he tucked the folded missive partially behind the portrait of Lucretia Borgia and returned to his rooms.

Hermione found him there an hour later. He had spent the hour thinking, and hoped his resolve would stay strong. She deserved her freedom.

“What is the meaning of this, Severus?” she asked, holding the parchment up.

Severus eyed her coolly. “Have you lost your ability to read?”

“You’re certifying me as a Potions mistress a year ahead of time.” She looked at him with hurt in her eyes and he turned away, unable to look at it. “Why?”

“Because you are ready.”

Hermione argued with him then, reminding him she still had not finished her independent project. She told him of all that she wanted to learn. Finally, she began to cry. “I don’t want to leave you, Severus. I love you.”

Eyes blazing, he turned to her. “How can you say that when you never had a choice? Our ‘relationship’ was based on an order of Voldemort’s,” he sneered. “Or have you forgotten that?” Severus forced himself to remain expressionless and stand there as tears rolled down her cheeks. Hermione fled.

He sat for the longest time, staring into the fire and wondering why he had to love her. Life was much simpler when he merely desired her. She was young, however, and would recover from this heartbreak. Severus doubted that he would. But there was no doubt in his mind that she deserved better. The stigma of being a Death Eater would stay with him for the rest of his life. People would always whisper and talk about him. She did not deserve to have a husband who was always viewed with mistrust.

Deciding to retire, unsure he could sleep without her close to him, he got up and through force of habit, checked his ward stones only to find that someone was in the classroom lab. He had to investigate; too many rare ingredients were stored there. Wand in hand, he waved the door open and slipped inside.

Hermione was working over a cauldron, adding some dried beetle skins. When she stirred it three times counterclockwise, he realized she was making a Blood Replenishing Potion.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded harshly. “Did you not understand what I said earlier?”

She laid down her stirring stick and stared at him defiantly. “I understood it too well,” Hermione told him, placing her hands on her hips. "But if you think you can run me out of your life so easily, then you have another thing coming.” She turned her attention back to her workstation, cleaning up after herself as always. When the timer Hermione had transfigured from a mouse squeaked, she reduced the heat to allow the potion to simmer, as it would have to do for the next three days. Marking the time into her Potions Journal, she turned to face him.

“If you want to get rid of me,” she explained firmly, “you will have to hex me, drag me from this castle, and Obliviate me on the other side of the gates. And I should warn you, I will fight back and I’m pretty good at that foolish wand waving.” She had the nerve to give him a cheeky grin as she flicked her wand and said, “Evanesco,” and cleaned the rest of the work table.

Severus could only stare at her and she walked up to him and ran her hands across his chest up to his shoulders. “I love you,” she said determinedly. “And I’ve got a year left on my apprenticeship to make you love me.”

If he were noble, he would push her away. He would explain the he was neither a nice man nor an easy man. He would try to talk her out of it. Instead, he drew her into his arms and sighed in contentment.

“Are you certain?” Severus asked her. When she nodded into his chest, he gently demanded that she answer him verbally because he did not wish to hear her head rattle.

“I’m certain, Severus,” she answered. “It’s you I want. You are the one I love.”

“You had best be certain, Hermione,” he cautioned, holding her more tightly. “I love you too much to ever let you go. Will you stay with me forever?”

Her arms tightened around him. “If you're asking me if I am willing marry you, the answer is yes. If you're asking me simply to stay with you, the answer is still yes.”

So began the life of Severus and Hermione Snape, a love that was rooted in war and bloomed in peace.

---

Authors Notes:

Lucretia Borgia, 1480-1509 AD, is reputed to have murdered by use of poison. I would say she was pretty adept at Potions. Only her status as the illegitimate daughter of a Pope seems to have kept the witchcraft accusations away - that and the fact that people who stood up against the Borgia family tended to die rather messily. I’m sure the Wizarding world would look upon her differently than the Muggle world. In fact, I am certain the Malfoy family is related to the Borgia family in some way.

Once again, my eternal gratitude to Karina for her work as Editor. She is far more than a Beta.

This is the end of “Great Plans” the one-shot that you kept alive with your reviews. I know a lot of people wanted me to take this to a higher rating. After much consideration, I decided to leave it as my only PG story to date. Come on! I have to have something to show the relatives. To all those who left such fantastic reviews, I thank you and the bunnies thank you. As always, please feed the plot bunnies, if not here than somewhere else. Thank you all!