The First Summer and Summer Series

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling. This is simply a fan tribute.

Severus Snape looked out over his seventh year potions class and sneezed heartily. Only one more month and he would be free of this particular group of monsters forever. This thought was especially alluring because this group contained that brat Potter.

“He couldn’t look any more like his blasted father if he tried, especially now he‘s older,” Snape thought as he watched Potter and his chum Weasley stirring up a rather complex veritaserum. He could hear their quiet chortles as they tried to guess what the results of the potion would be on each other.

“I know who you were making out with at the Yule Ball!” Ron boasted.

Harry sneered, “You don’t!”

“Do too. At least I will when we test this out.”

“Silence!” Snape bellowed and the pair instantly shut their mouths tight. He could tell from the look in Potter’s eyes the boy was just as anxious to be done with Snape’s tutelage as he himself was to be free of Potter.

Snape sighed deeply, sniffed, coughed and glared across the dungeons. It was rather like looking through a mist. Most of the students had been sick but had taken Madam Pomfrey’s pepper up potion to cure the illness. The side effect of smoking ears was adding to a fast growing fog layer that hung over the students in the chilly dungeon. Snape found the sight particularly ludicrous. He would rather suffer the effects of this stupid cold than look like Mt. Vesuvius. As a result he had spent the last few weeks gradually becoming sicker and sicker.

Another cough racked his already thin frame. There was no doubt about it. He was getting worse. He was going to have to give in and let Madam Pomfrey turn him into a human smokestack. The thought made him furious. He took out his anger on Neville Longbottom, as usual. Neville had just dropped his wand. The few small sparks that emitted from it’s tip barely scorched the parchment on his desk but it was enough to give Snape a chance to release his frustration.

“Longbottom!” Snape roared. He meant to tell him he was the clumsiest oaf it had ever been his misfortune to meet and that he hoped when Longbottom left Hogwarts next month the wizarding world would be ready to meet total disaster. That’s what he meant to say, but he began coughing again. A deepening racking cough that left him completely drained.

When he finally got his breath, Snape hissed “Get out!” to the students in general. It was twenty-five minutes early but he didn’t care any more. He just wanted some hot tea and to put his feet up. No, on second thought, maybe some firewater whiskey would do his cold better. When he looked up again, the room was empty. The students had bolted out the door, pleased to escape. It was just as he suspected. They all hated him as much as he hated them.

By about seven o’clock that evening, his chest began feeling heavy and it hurt to cough or even to breathe deeply. Snape swallowed his pride and went up to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was livid.

“What were you trying to do? Die of walking pneumonia?”

He tried to snort but it turned into a cough.

“See?” she demanded triumphantly, “Pneumonia.”

“Piffle.” Snape finally managed to say. “Give me some of your pepper up potion and I’ll get out of your way.”

Poppy Pomfrey looked at him as though he were a disobedient child “It’s much too late for pepper up potion. That has to be taken on the first day or two of a cold. This is beyond that.”

Snape leaned heavily on the bedstead behind him, determined not to let his weak legs show him up. “Fine Poppy, not pepper up potion then, just give me whatever it is you got and let me get back to bed.”

“Oh you’re going to bed alright! And you can just climb into that bed down on the end.”

“What!?!” the exclamation caused Snape to break into a fresh series of coughs. “I’m not staying here!”

“Oh yes you are!” announced Poppy triumphantly, “You are much sicker than you are letting on. It’s long standing and neglected and will take regular dosings of several types of potions round the clock. I don’t have time to be running back and forth between my infirmary and the dungeons carrying your potions. Further more, we need to keep you in bed. I rather suspect you’ve been spreading this illness to the students over the last few weeks.”

This was too much injustice for the beleaguered potions master. “I, infect them? The little vectors were the ones who gave it to me!” he roared.

“Bet ast as it may, you’ll be doing no teaching in the near future. You‘re on total bed rest as of now.”

“You can’t force me to stay in the infirmary! I won‘t!” Snape declared.

Poppy Pomfrey smiled, “We’ll see about that.”

“Now, Severus,” reasoned the headmaster in his most soothing of voices, “You know it’s for your own good.”

Snape glared at Dumbledore from the uncomfortable infirmary bed.

“It’s just until you get on your feet again.”

“Headmaster,” Snape began, but a coughing fit interrupted his words. Dumbledore waited patiently, with a gentle smile.

“Headmaster,” he began again, “If I could just be allowed to return to my chambers I am perfectly capable of dosing myself if Madam Pomfrey would be so kind as to leave the required potions at my bedside.”

“And I’m sure that’s what we’ll do, Severus,” Dumbledore agreed, “After you have gotten over the worst of your illness. Until then, I’m afraid I must insist that you remain in the infirmary.”

He knew better than to argue when his headmaster ‘insisted’ on anything. Dumbledore took his leave and Snape collapsed even further back into the pillows. Madame Pomfrey had placed him in the far corner of the room and had put curtains up around his bed but the potions master still felt the ignominy of having to share the ward with students.

He didn’t have to see to know that there was a first year down at the other end suffering from a fall off a broomstick, a third year transfiguration student who had somehow turned his toes into fingers and visa versa. Worst of all, Seamus Finnegan, a Gryffindor friend of Potter and Weasley, had been admitted for burns. Snape knew this meant a visit from the dreaded duo would be forthcoming. There was nothing Snape wanted less than for Potter to see him laying in this bed.

He coughed again and flung himself onto his side. The potion that Poppy Pomfrey had given him had made him very sleepy. He closed his eyes.

Hermione Granger stood back and surveyed herself in the mirror. At eighteen she had lost all of that awkwardness she had once had. Her hair, unruly in youth, had matured into a beautiful mane that half the male students of Hogwarts would have given anything to bury their hands in. She had more grace and maturity than the other girls in her class. Hermione realized this and attributed it to the extra age she had gained using a time turner her third year.

But her beauty and poise were more than just age. She had been made Head Girl that year. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge and innate common sense stood her well. It would be a long time before Hogwarts had another Head Girl like Hermione. As part of her duties she often checked in on the students in the infirmary to make sure they had everything they needed or to pass along messages to their friends. Tonight’s visit she thought would be interesting. Hermione had heard how Seamus had been trying to conjure a flagon of ale and ended up with a dragon and flail.

That’s what comes of doing incantations with a head cold,” Hermione muttered. Her only reservation about visiting Seamus was that Ron would probably be there. Of course she like Ron, he was her friend. But Ron wanted more than friendship. Sometimes it irked her to see the disgusting puppy dog look on his face when he talked to her. She wished they could just go back to how it had been before.

As Hermione suspected, Seamus’ bed looked like half the Gryffindor common room was standing around it. Seamus was giving a loud and spirited account of how he had dealt with the dragon when she entered.

“Hey Hermione!”

“How’s it going?”

“Not studying tonight?” came the various greetings from her friends. As she had feared, Ron looked up at her with puppy dog eyes and Harry, catching the look, winked at her.

“Just stopping by to see if you have everything you need,” she said.

Seamus, happily bandaged from head to toe, acknowledged he was fine and turned down her offer to fetch his homework to him.

“I’ll catch up with it later,” he promised.

“Remember, final exams are cominshe she warned. Hermione visited briefly with the first year, who was in awe of her superior upper grade status, and the third year, who told her where to put her homework suggestions.

Before leaving she noticed that there seemed to be a bed curtained off down on the other end of the ward. “Who’s down there?”

“Don’t tell her. Make her go stick her head in and look!” Seamus suggested playfully.

“Ugh! Don’t Hermione!” advised Ron. “It’s Snape.”

Hermione‘s brow furrowed. “Professor Snape? Why’s he here?”

“You mean you didn’t notice all that coughing and him kicking us out of potions early yesterday?” Harry asked, “He’s sick of course.”

Hermione gave him a look. “Well obviously! But he muealleally but ill to be here in the infirmary. I would have thought he’d be in his own chambers.” She paused a moment. “I suppose I’d better visit him,” she said doubtfully.

“You can’t be serious,” Neville exclaimed, “He’ll take your head off! Don’t do it Hermione!”

“I wouldn’t visit that old git if you paid me,” said Seamus.

“And you’re not Head Girl!” Hermione retorted. “It’s my duty.”

“Snape doesn’t count because he‘s not a student,” Harry advised. “Don’t bother.” She was almost tempted to take Harry’s advice but Ron blew it.

“Besides, I was just going to ask you to walk down to Hogsmeade and have a drink with me,” Ron announced.

Panicking, Hermione made up her mind quickly. “Sorry Ron, I’m just going to visit with Professor Snape and then I have to wash my hair.”

The other boys exchanged glances at this obvious ploy but Ron was unperturbed. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am,” Hermione announced, “I-I’m going now.” She tried to remind herself that she was over eighteen years old and a woman. She felt very much like a shaking scared little first year as she approached the curtained off area where her potions master lay.

Hermione had always had mixed feelings about Snape. He was cruel and sarcastic but somehow she felt that much of it was a blind. He was trying to cover something up. She knew he had once been a Death Eater but Dumbledore trusted him. There had to be something good in the man somewhere. Besides, there was something in his eyes that she found intriguing, something deep and dark and mysterious.

Hermione had reached the curtains. She wasn’t sure how she should make herself known. There was no way to knock. Quietly, she cleared her throat.

“Ermmm, Professor Snape?” she asked, and, slowly, she put her head around the curtain.

Hermione was shocked by what she saw. Snape was lying back on his pillow. His sallow skin looked ashen and it was clear he had lost quite a bit of weight. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked almost childlike in his gray nightshirt. The dungeons had been so dark that she hadn’t realized quite how sick he had been getting even though she had seen him almost every day. It gave her a hollow feeling in her stomach to see him looking so helpless.

Snape’s black eyes opened and a look of extreme annoyance crossed his face.

“What do you want, Miss Granger?” he growled. He then started to cough long and hard. Alarmed, Hermione rushed to his side and helped him to sit up. She patted his back gently and handed him a glass of water.

As the coughing subsided and Snape drank, his face took on a pink flush of embarrassment. He hated any sign of weakness, and that a student was seeing him this way, especially a girl treating him like a two-year-old, it was completely unacceptable.

“Thank you,” he muttered, laying back down, “Now would you mind leaving?”

“I, uh,” Hermione stuttered, “I was just stopping in to see if there was anything I could do for you.”

Snape glared, “I very much doubt it.”

“Is, uh, are there any sweets I could bring you or ...” Her sentence dissolved in her throat. Snape looked at her like she was a bug he’d like to stomp on. She became horribly aware that her well-worn platitudes for students were simply absurd in the case of her potions master.

“Unless you can produce a good strong cup of coffee to replace the slops that Madam Pomfrey sees fit to provide me with, then I will ask you to please leave at once!”

Hermione needed no second invitation. She fled.


Hermione sat at dinner in the great hall that night in a very pensive mood. She kept looking at the empty seat at the high table and thinking about Professor Snape up in the infirmary. It had seemed odd to see him so ill and helpless. Perhaps it was because she was growing up or maybe it was just that she was so close to leaving school. She started thinking about all of the things she had ever learned from Snape. It was a considerable sum of knowledge. She owed him a lot. After dinner, she managed to avoid Ron and Harry and sneaked down to the kitchens. There was something she had to do, a debt to be repaid.

Severus Snape lay in bed in the infirmary and stared at the ceiling. There was a spot on the ceiling. It was very small. Of course, the ceiling was far away. He was trying to decide what had made the spot. Was it a leak from the ceiling above or something that had splashed up from below. How long had the spot been there. He coughed, and closed his eyes. Being ill was the most tedious thing he had ever experienced.

Footsteps were approaching his bed. His direct line of sight was cut off by the curtains but from the sound of the footsteps they were a woman’s light staccato tread. The footsteps hesitated outside the curtain. He couldn’t think who they belonged to. All the women he knew wore sensible shoes.

“Yes?” he inquired, hoping the unseen visitor would make themselves known. God knows, anything was better than this tedium!

He was shocked when Hermione Granger stuck her head around the corner. He was sure the owner of the footsteps had been a woman, not a girl.

“Professor Snape?” Granger began, “I’ve brought you something.”

She handed him a silver container.

“And what, may I ask, is this?” he sneered.

“Coffee, Professor. Strong as you like it, not slops. I had the house elves make it up for you specially.”

For a moment Snape was non-plussed. First an unexpected person then an unexpected gesture.

He cleared his throat, “Miss Granger, you have known me for seven years. Surely you have learned by now when I am being sarcastic and when I am serious?”

Hermione couldn’t help smiling. “I have actually. Which is why I brought you the coffee. Besides, I‘ve been in here myself, you know.” After a long pause, she continued, “I also thought it was the least I could do for you after all you’ve done for me in the last seven years.”

There was no hiding the confusion on Snape’s face now. “I have done nothing special for you over the last seven years. I simply taught you the basics of potion making.”

“That was more than enough.” Hermione smiled at him once again. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“It’s not necessary,” Snape began.

“I know,” she answered. and she disappeared between the curtains.

Snape was left alone with his own thoughts. He took a drink of the coffee in the flask. It was good. Funny, he thought, he might have considered not drinking it had it been any other student. He was relatively sure that most of his students would enjoy seeing him die by one of his own poisons. He trusted Granger in an odd way. He had never had such a bright student. She would likely be the only one he missed out of this group.

He took another sip and wondered what she was planning on doing after leaving Hogwarts. University no doubt. If she didn’t get mixed up with some love-sick swain and end up throwing it away to settle down and marry someone like that Weasley boy who always had his tongue hanging out over her. He wondered what it was that made Weasley drool like that. Not the bushy hair surely. He snorted which brought on a minor coughing fit. But, come to think of it, her hair was a little different now than it used to be. And she was definitely taller.

Snape came to the conclusion that he hadn’t really looked at Miss Granger for some time. After all, he wasn’t in the habit of looking at his female students as anything more than students. At eighteen she was a legal adult, technically a woman. His mind jolted back to the sound of her footsteps in the infirmary. He had been so very sure it was an adult woman. Perhaps he hadn’t been as observant as he could have been. Next time he had an opportunity, he would try looking at Granger objectively.

“Where were you after dinner last night, Hermione?” Ron asked as they picked their way to potions class.

“Busy,” Hermione answered briefly.

Neville and Seamus exchanged amused glances at her reply. The house had received notice that there would be potions lessons today after all. They speculated who was taking on Snape’s duties.

“Maybe it’s Professor Lupin come back,” Dean Thomas suggested.

“Naw,” Seamus replied, picking at his burn scabs, “He had to get Snape to make his potions for him. Remember?”

Hermione didn’t really care who it was. Her only thought at the moment was how she was going to distract Ron and Harry long enough to sneak off to the kitchens after dinner again tonight.

It was a real surprise when they opened the door to the dungeons and found their new teacher was Professor Dumbledore. He had never taught them before.

“Good afternoon class,” he began.

“Good afternoon Headmaster,” the replied automatically.

“Today I’ll be showing you some potions which I’m relatively sure Professor Snape has not covered.”


“HE TAUGHT YOU TO MAKE WHAT?!?” Snape shouted.

Hermione cringed but couldn’t help grinning a bit. “I thought that might annoy you.”

“My dungeons will never be the same,” Snape moaned. “My potions lab has been turned into a confectioners kitchen.”

Hermione had brought Snape his jug of coffee and had stayed to relate what her potions lesson with Dumbledore had been that morning. For sheer amusement value she was sure, Dumbledore had revealed to them the formula for Fred and George Weasley’s canary creams. The class had spent a glorious two hours cooking them, eating them, laughing and molting. They had never had such fun in potions before. What had been particularly amazing was that Neville’s canary creams had turned out the best looking feathers of the lot. Consequently, he had received his first perfect grade in potions for the whole seven years he had been there.

“I suppose you all had a wonderful time,” Snape commented mopily.

“It wasn’t too bad,” Hermione admitted, “But there was nothing scientific or important in it. I doubt that I would ever need to create canary creams outside of Hogwarts. I would have rather learned something useful.”

Snape grunted. Granger had a good head on her shoulders. It reminded him of his intention to look at her objectively. He turned his head and looked her full in the face. Her hair was different! Soft, full and tamed. Her skin was clear and she was wearing a small but tasteful amount of make up. His eyes slid down her body. Good God! She really had grown up! Her form was completely mature with a well-filled bust line, small waist and hips.

Suddenly, Snape realized that she was aware of his appraisal. His eyes met hers and she blushed hotly. He also reddened.

“Thank you for the coffee, Miss Granger,” he replied lamely, “I was beginning to go into caffeine withdrawal.”

“My pleasure Professor. Will you be able to come back to the classroom soon?”

Snape sighed. “I am feeling better but Madam Pomfrey seems to think it will be some time before I am able to resume my duties.”

“Isn’t there anything else I can bring you?” Hermione asked.

For a brief moment, Snape thought of all the books in his chambers. It wouldn’t be quite so bad, being isolated in this blasted ward, if he could just have a few books. But he certainly wasn’t going to have a student in his private chambers. Another thought occurred to him.

“Would you mind running an errand to the library for me?” he asked. His tone was more polite than she had ever heard before.

“Of course. What would you like me to get?”

He briefly threw off a title or two and Hermione promised to fetch them the next day. Then there was an awkward pause. Hermione’s visit made Snape aware of just how lonely he was. He was the only one left in the infirmary at the moment. Even the third year with the switched digits had been sorted out and sent on his way. There hadn’t been a sound all day until she had come in. “I appreciate your stopping,” Snape began.

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Hmmmm...” was his only reply. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

Hermione left quietly, her footsteps echoing in the large room. Snape listened to them die away and reflected again on how much his star pupil had changed.

“Where have you been Hermione?” Ron whined as she entered the Gryffindor common room.

Careful not to meet his eyes she answered lightly, “Just getting on with being Head Girl.”

Ron grumbled, “You’re worse than Percy, you know.”

Hermione didn’t stay long. Begging off that she had some homework she went back to her own quarters and began getting ready for bed. As she stripped down to her underwear, she stopped and looked in the mirror. She had a good figure, she knew. She thought about that sweeping appraisal that Snape had given her. It had been the look of a man looking at a woman. She smirked slightly as she remembered his eyes lingering on her breasts. They were nice, she admitted. She allowed her hands to smooth down over their curves. Funny, she had never thought about Snape looking at women’s breasts before. Yet he was a man so she knew he probably did.

She thought about the last Yule Ball and Ron trying to grab a feel. She wondered if Snape had ever tried that on a girl at the Yule Ball when he was at Hogwarts. Unbidden came the image into her mind of Snape touching her breasts. She knew she should be repulsed, he was her teacher after all, but she wasn’t. In fact, as she looked in the mirror she could see her nipples had contracted into sharp hard peaks at the mere thought.

“Come on, Hermione,” she told herself, “That’s enough of that.” Determined not to think such thoughts, she plunged herself into a very dry and boring book of arithmancy and did not turn out the light until the tingling in her nipples disappeared entirely.

Madam Pomfrey decided to allow Snape to sit up in bed all day the next day. She plumped up several pillows behind his back.

“There, that’s much better. Now if we can just get you eating properly again I’ll have you on your feet in no time.”

“If you’ll just let me go back to my own chambers I’ll be fine,” grumbled Snape.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, “Not until you get a little weight back on, which you won‘t do until you start to eat.” She picked up the almost untouched breakfast tray and walked out of the ward.

Snape sighed. He wondered what time it was. Whatever time it was he knew that it would be hours before Miss Granger would return with his books. His bed was facing a high window. He could see a patch of blue sky outside with a cloud moving across it. He watched the cloud until it was gone from view, then waited until another cloud came along. It was different than looking at the spot on the ceiling but no more interesting.

Gradually the sky became brighter and brighter. He knew it must be close to noontime. Half the day gone and still hours left to go. Any minute now Poppy Pomfrey would come swishing in here with another revolting tray bearing something she called lunch.

The door at the end of the ward opened but it wasn’t Madam Pomfrey.

“Miss Granger!” Snape was truly surprised. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Lunch break.” Hermione explained. She was holding two old volumes up to her chest. “I thought you’d like to have these now rather than this evening.” Lowering the books, she held them out for his inspection.

“Thank you. I was getting rather bored watching the clouds go by.” He took the books from her, looking directly into her eyes.

Hermione couldn’t read his expression but she hoped he was pleased to see her as well as the books. She couldn’t explain why that was important to her. It just was.

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to enter the ward with Snape’s lunch tray.

“Well, I’d best be going,” Hermione said reluctantly. “I’ll come again this evening.”

Snape nodded. He watched as Hermione turned to go. It was like watching a new person, he realized. Her shapely form was draped in her school robes now but even so he was aware of the new grown up Hermione that had replaced the little girl he had once known.

Madam Pomfrey was impatient. “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s see you eat some of this!”

Snape sighed.

Ron was angry. “You’re trying to avoid me, aren’t you?” he demanded.

It was just after dinner and Hermione had been trying to sneak away to the kitchens again when Ron had caught up with her.

“Ron please,” Hermione began, “Don’t be childish. I’m not trying to avoid you, I’m just busy. Can’t you accept that?”

“No,” Ron stated flatly, “What are you doing after dinner every night that’s so secret and so important?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Hermione shook her head.

“Try me,” Ron demanded.

Exasperated beyond belief, she decided to tell him, “If you must know, I’m taking coffee up to the infirmary for Professor Snape.”

“You’re what?” Ron was incredulous.

“I told you. You wouldn’t understand. Now if you’ll get out of my way I can continue.”

“No! Stop. Are you trying to make me believe that you are going to visit Snape? Probably your least favorite teacher?”

“Trelawney is my least favorite teacher. And I don’t care if you believe me or not. I am going to go visit with Professor Snape in the infirmary.” Hermione’s robes swished violently as she turned from Ron and went into the kitchens.

Ron was totally incredulous. He returned to the Gryffindor Common Room in a cloud of doom.

“What’s up Ron?” asked Harry. “You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”

“We might have,” Ron answered.

“What do you mean?”

Ron explained then to Harry all that Hermione had said.

“Do you believe it?” Ron asked.

“There’s a good way to find out,” Harry replied. He went to his room and returned with his invisibility cape.

Hermione found Snape in an almost good mood.

“Are you feeling better , Professor?” she asked.

He allowed a little half smile to play on the side of his face. “It was rather nice having something to occupy my mind today. Thank you again for the books.”

“No problem,” Hermione replied. “I see you’re not eating your dinner though.” She looked at the almost untouched dinner tray next to his bed.

“I can’t eat THAT,” he stated.

“Can I bring you anything else from the kitchens?”

Madam Pomfrey sneaked up on them . “He shouldn’t be having anything from the kitchens!” she boomed. “Really Miss Granger! Surely you know that invalids are supposed to be on bland diets? You’re to bring no more stimulants in this ward!” She snatched away the unfinished dinner tray and removed the coffee from Snape’s hand, ignoring his poisonous glares as she did so.

Snape and Hermione were silent as Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps died away. Then their eyes met and they both started to laugh. Hermione had never heard Snape laugh before and was charmed by the rich warm chuckle he produced.

“Dear girl,” Snape said, as their laughter died down, “You will sneak me in some more coffee tomorrow won’t you?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied. Her legs had been getting tirrom rom standing. There wasn’t a chair nearby. Emboldened by the new bond that seemed to be growing, Hermione sat down gingerly on the foot of the bed.

Snape was slightly surprised but pleased. He had expected her to leave again. Instead she stayed, plumped down at his feet telling him about the happenings at Hogwarts. Most of it didn’t interest him but he listened. He asked about the students in his own house and was pleased that she could answer. Hermione made it her business to know everything that was going on. She took her Head Girl duties very seriously.

After a while she asked about the books he was reading and he told her all about them. When she discovered he had read all of one and most of the other in a single day, she offered to stop by the library for him again.

“I shouldn’t let you,” he muttered, “ I’m taking too much of your time.” Snape’s comment was interrupted by the tolling of the clock at the end of the passage. Midnight!

“Uh-oh, I’m up after hours,” Hermione commented.

“If you’re caught, tell them to come speak with me. You won’t get in trouble,” Snape promised.

Hermione stood. There was an awkward pause again.

“Well, goodnight Professor.”

“Goodnight Miss Granger.”

Their eyes met. Just for a brief moment, Hermione felt a slight surge, as though she would have liked to bend over and kiss him. She hoped it didn’t show in her face. She broke off eye contact immediately.

“See you tomorrow!” she said lightly as she quickly left the infirmary.

Snape pulled his pillows down and lay back in bed, but sleep was elusive. For a millisecond, he had thought Miss Granger was going to kiss him. He must be over tired, he reasoned. But in his dreams that night, the image kept coming back to him, that sudden flash he had seen in her eyes. He dreamed about her lips, soft moist and petal sweet. When he awoke in the morning he found an uncomfortable pressure throbbing in his groin, one that he hadn‘t experienced for quite some time.

“Oh God! I hope Poppy doesn’t want to do a bed bath this morning,” he groaned.

Hermione was furious. She wouldn’t speak with Ron or Harry the next morning. She had been walking back to her rooms the night before when suddenly, up ahead of her, she noticed four disembodied sneakers walking up the hallway. It was Ron and Harry of course. The invisibility cloak had ridden up exposing their feet to her sight.

“You were spying on me!” she angrily confronted the pair.

“We were worried about you,” Ron claimed. “Why do you want to be hanging around that old git for? The longer he’s in the infirmary the better!”

But as Harry had pointed out to Ron later on, Snape was different with Hermione alone than he was in the classroom.

“Almost human,” Harry had commented.

Nevertheless, Ron felt there was something unsavory about Hermione visiting their potions master. Worse, he didn’t like the easy friendly way they had been chatting together. Especially her sitting on his bed.

“She needs to watch out for that old bastard. He’ll try something when he’s well enough.”

Hermione wouldn’t speak to Ron all that day or the next or the next. She had started her revisions to prepare for final exams and spent the rest of her free time chasing down various books for Snape in the library. She was also smuggling him food now as well as coffee. All this was done with Madam Pomfrey’s approval although Snape didn’t know it.

Madam Pomfrey had stopped Hermione in the hall one morning and thanked her for the help she was giving in getting the potions master well again.

“He won’t eat the food if I bring it,” Poppy Pomfrey had explained, “But if he thinks he can’t have it, he finds it appetizing enough!”

Hermione was surprised. “That doesn’t sound very logical.”

“Men aren’t logical, dear,” Madam Pomfrey went on. “You just keep on sneaking food to him and letting him think he’s getting one over on me and he’ll be back in those dungeons of his in no time.”

Hermione still looked confused.

Madam Pomfrey sighed in an exasperated manner, “It’s a control thing, Miss Granger. Men like to be in control and Severus likes to be in control more than any man I know. He’s been like that since he was a boy. Just learn how to make him feel in control and he’ll eat out of your hand. Well, he’ll eat his dinner anyway.”

The end of the school year was approaching quickly. During one of their many talks Hermione had told Snape about her plans to continue on at the university in the fall. Snape tried to convince her to change her major to potions but Hermione wasn’t to be swayed. She planned to study magical anthropology.

“It could be worse I suppose,” Snape lamented. “At least you’re not throwing it away to settle down and get married.”

“You talk like marriage is a bad thing,” Hermione commented.

“It is if it wastes your life,” Snape continued. “I’ve seen too many students throw away promising careers for that ‘settling down’ chestnut. I was rather afraid you were connected with that Weasley boy.”

“Ron?” Hermione laughed, “Ron and I are just friends and that’s how it’s going to stay!”

At the far end of the infirmary was a crash as a bed table fell over, apparently on it’s own.

Snape was instantly on the defensive. There was a student prowling and no doubt it was Potter or Weasley in that blasted invisibility cloak. But just before he opened his mouth to make a scathing remark, he looked up at Hermione. It was like looking in a mirror. He saw Hermione had narrowed her eyes at the commotion and a brief look of anger flashed across her face. It was the same look he had often felt himself use when students acted up. It only lasted a moment, then suddenly she turned back to him with a smile.

“I have to be going. A little extra homework tonight. See you tomorrow?”

Snape nodded. He knew as well as she did what had caused the crash. He chuckled to himself thinking about how she would handle it. He wished he could see it.

Snape’s recovery from that point was uneventful. He progressed from sitting up in bed to being allowed to sit up in a chair and to walk to the windows to look outside. He no longer coughed and the heavy feeling that had been pressing on his chest disappeared. Hermione still visited him regularly although he was aware that her mind was rather preoccupied with exams.

He had grown rather fond of Hermione, enjoying her company. She was like him, Snape admitted to himself, only she had ‘gotten it right’ He was reclusive, she had no such reserve. She perched on his bed and they talked of advanced magic, literature and other subjects. Tonight she was trying her best to convince him that a South Pacific muggle vacation resort, Tradewind Island, was well worth visiting.

“Even the name is ridiculously trite,” he snorted.

“Maybe,” Hermione admitted, “But the climate is great, the island is beautiful, they have great food and the swimming is brilliant. You do know how to swim, don‘t you?”

Snape curled his upper lip, “Naturally!”

“Sorry, I just wasn’t sure. Anyway, I‘m sure it would be a good place for you to recover over the summer holidays.”

Before his illness, the summer holidays were something Snape had been longing for. The mindless tedium of teaching irritated him. Now the thought of Hermione leaving depressed him. He hadn’t appreciated her while she was in his classes and now she would be leaving forever. If only he had known before how much was going on in her bright mind! But he hadn’t. And next week was her last at the school. He was determined to make the most of it.

Before the clock struck that evening, Snape had another visitor. Dumbledore entered the ward. He looked at Snape sitting up in his chair and Hermione perched on the foot of the bed and smiled.

“So, tell me Severus, are you feeling well?”

Snape did his best to growl in his usual way, “Not particularly. When can I go back to my chambers?”

“Would tomorrow suit you?” Dumbledore offered.

Snape was taken aback. He hadn’t really anticipated his incarceration ending so abruptly.

“That will be a pleasant change. Thank you.”

He glanced at Hermione. No more pleasant evenings chatting. This had been the last.

She looked at him with regret. “I’m glad you’re going back to your own rooms again. It’s just as well, I have exams this week. I’ll try and stop by and visit you there though.”

“That would hardly be seemly,” Snape commented in an acid cold voice. “And it’s not necessary.”

Hermione was cut by his tone. She couldn’t say more with Dumbledore there. To her surprise, Dumbledore was smiling at her.

“Well, I’ll say goodnight then,” she finished.

“Goodnight,” Snape replied coldly, looking away.

“Goodnight, my dear,” Dumbledore told her.

As she walked up the corridor, Dumbledore turned to him.

“Severus, you shouldn’t have been so hard on her.”

Snape was incredulous, “Hard on her? Do you think it would be wise to entertain a female student in my private quarters?”

“No, of course not. But you also know what I mean. She’s been very kind and I think she’s grown very fond of you.”

“If that were true it would be all the more reason to nip it in the bud.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said pensively, “but I wonder who is really getting nipped?”

And he left Severus Snape to work out his last statement.

Hermione had very little chance to think about Professor Snape over the next week. Her exams completely occupied her. It wasn’t until she reached her last exam, her potions final, and found Dumbledore smiling from the podium that she remembered. It seemed strange. This was her last day ever in the dungeons and Snape was not there. It made her feel empty. If you had told her seven years ago that she would be missing Snape she wouldn’t have believed it.

After completing both her written and practical potions test (Dumbledore had her mix up a love potion. How odd!) she decided that she would ignore Snape’s words and stop by his office. If he wasn’t there she would find out where his private chambers were and visit him all the same. She wanted to say goodbye. There was a dance to celebrate the end of school that evening but she couldn’t be sure that he would come. He usually only attended such affairs if he had chaperone duty.

Walking up the dark hallway, her steps echoed. She felt everyone could hear her. At last reaching Snape’s office door, she screwed up her courage and knocked. There was a long pause.

Snape had heard and recognized those footsteps well before he heard the knock. He had listened intently for them many times during his stay in the infirmary. He couldn’t decide whether to open the door or not. On one hand, he felt it would be best if he never saw Miss Granger again. Over the last week it became increasingly clear to him that he had allowed himself to become attached. This was something he had never wanted to do again. To let another human being have the power to hurt you was sheer madness.

On the other hand, Snape reasoned, she was a determined headstrong young woman and he wouldn’t put it past her to find out where his private chambers were and visit him there. That, he felt, would be an even bigger mistake. Common decency also demanded he take leave of his student. He caved in.

“Come in,” Snape growled.

With great trepidation Hermione opened the door..

Without looking up, he barked, “Well Miss Granger? What do you want?”

Hermione ignored his rudeness. She understood him better now than before his illness.

“I just finished my potions final. I wanted to come in and say good bye.”

“Hmmm... yes,” Snape continued to feign interest in a piece of parchment on his desk. “Very well, goodbye. Good luck at university.”

Unwilling to be shoved off in this abrupt manner, Hermione pushed forward. “Will you be going to the dance tonight?” she asked.

Snape looked up and gave her his most sarcastic smile. “No Miss Granger. I think not.” His face was a mask. He had kept his features in control but the minute he caught sight of the sad look in her eyes his heart gave a squeeze.

“Can I ask you one last favor?” Hermione said, “Just one last thing and then I won’t bother you again.”

Snape pretended to be annoyed. In fact he was slightly panicked. He hated this slip of a girl having any power over his emotions. “Yes, anything. Then please leave and let me get on with my work.”

Gotcha! Hermione thought to herself. Aloud she requested, “Please stop in at the party and dance one dance with me tonight.”

“What?! No! Of course not.” Snape sputtered.

“You’ve already promised Professor, and it is just one dance. You don’t have to stay. Just walk in, have one dance with me and walk out. Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Snape’s mind thought fast. He couldn’t do it. Holding that young well-developed form against him with music playing and all of Hogwarts looking on? Impossible.

“Miss Granger, I don’t dance,” he attempted.

“Nonsense,” Hermione announced firmly, “Besides, Harry and Ron said you wouldn’t do it. You wouldn’t want to prove them right would you?”

This last was a pure lie. The dance idea had only just now occurred to her but remembering what Madam Pomfrey had said about men, she thought a little manipulation was in order.

“Quite frankly, I don’t care what Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley think,” Snape snapped. He paused. He was clearly agitated now and Hermione could see his brain working. “I won’t promise anything Miss Granger but I may look in on you this evening.”

Giving him her biggest smile, Hermione replied, “You already have promised, Professor Snape. And I look forward to our dance. See you later!” As she walked out the door she threw one last comment back at him. “I’ll enjoy telling Harry that he was wrong.”

Oh God! What had he done? Snape leaned over and put his head in his hands. Dance with Miss Granger? He couldn’t. But then the thought of Potter’s face came to his mind. How he would love to get back at the brat one last time. He sighed. It looked like he was going to a dance.

Hermione took great care dressing that evening. She picked through her room which was stacked with cartons and boxes ready to send to her parents’ home. Crookshanks, who disliked any upset in his routine, was glaring at her from the bed.

After her hair and makeup were done, Hermione stood in front of the mirror. Her body, she knew, looked great. Carefully she applied some strategically placed dabs of expensive scent, behind her ears, on her temples, under her breasts and on the backs of her knees. She was all silky smoothness in her sexiest underwear, not that she intended anyone to know that. She lowered her gown over her head. It was low cut, revealing her swelling bust line. The material clung where it should, showing off her figure to it’s best advantage.

Hermione had already broken off her date for this dance with Ron. That had been his punishment on the night he had spied on her in the infirmary for the second time. Nevertheless, she found him in the common room waiting for her. His jaw dropped. Harry, who was standing with Ginny and Neville, was the first to compliment her.

“Gosh Hermione, you look great!” he said.

“Thanks,” she replied and, although he was already irtingting her by looking like a cod fish, Hermione took Ron’s arm and allowed him to escort her to their graduation dance.

The music was wonderful and the food, as always, was superb. But Hermione found herself answering questions a little absently and had trouble concentrating. Ron hadn’t noticed. He was so knocked out by her appearance he wouldn’t have noticed if a train had hit him. Hermione kept sweeping glances across the ballroom, waiting for Snape to show up. Maybe he wasn’t going to come?

It was nearly midnight, and the lights had been lowered for a slow dance when she saw a familiar figure standing in the doorway. He was in his formal dress robes and looked every inch of a hero from a Victorian romance novel. Bronte or Austin? Hermione thought as she excused herself from the crowd and worked her way towards him across the hall.

Ron looked to see where Hermione had gone.

Snape hadn’t felt this nervous since he had turned traitor on Voldemort and had to face Dumbledore. His insides were quivering. Just a dance, just a dance, he kept thinking. Then he saw Hermione making her way across the crowded ballroom to him.

She was beautiful. He almost suspected her of taking some beautifying potion but he knew that it wasn’t in her character. As she drew up close to him he was struck dumb by the look in her eyes. They sparkled, and they were sparkling for him!

“Our dance I think, Professor?” she asked. She held up her arms and he swept her onto the dance floor.

“Harry!” Ron hissed, “Look! Look at Hermione!”

Harry stopped dancing with Ginny and looked. So did many others.

Snape’s heart began beating again as soon as he took Hermione into his arms. He had been fearing this moment but when it came it was glorious. She stayed looking in his eyes, smiling, their two bodies swaying together in perfect time. This was heaven.

Hermione was keenly aware of the nearness of Snape’s body which he held back away from her. His arms were around her though, and she enjoyed the touch of his fingers in her hand and on her back. He was returning her gaze earnestly. She still found him difficult to read but she could feel passion somewhere hidden under the dark cold exterior.

All too soon, the music stopped.

Snape reluctantly let her go. It had been a beautiful few moments and he was not sorry he had let her manipulate him into this.

“And so, you’re going home tomorrow?” Snape asked.

Hermione nodded. “Will you walk out across the courtyard with me?”

“As you wish,” Snape replied. They left the hall together, unaware of Ron’s agonized expression and Harry’s look of extreme loathing.

Out of the stuffiness of the Great Hall, Hermione found the air refreshing and her mind sharpened.

“What will you be doing for your holidays?” she asked Snape.

Her shrugged, “I hadn’t thought of it. I suppose I’ll find somewhere to relax a few weeks.”

They had reached the courtyard but neither stopped walking.

“I can’t believe I’m done with Hogwarts,” Hermione continued. “Although I look forward to the university.”

“It will be wonderful for you,” Snape replied, “You won’t believe how much you can learn. And you can stay with your own subject. That makes all the difference. You‘ll be living on campus I suppose?”

She nodded, “Staying with my parents for the summer then to college dorms. I hate the idea though. I don’t like the thought of having roommates again. Being Head Girl has spoiled me.”

Without meaning to, they had found themselves in the rose garden. Hermione turned to face him just as Snape had replied, “Nothing can ever spoil you.”

The heady scent of roses in the cool evening air was intoxicating. Mistake! Mistake! Snape’s mind was shrieking. Their eyes met. Both felt the overwhelming urge to join lips. There was no backing out if it now. Snape, with reluctance, and Hermione ,with passion, leaned forward.

One kiss, and then away, Snape thought. But as their lips met, the softness of her mouth under his made any more thought impossible. She smelled so beautiful. As he had looked down to meet her kiss he had a brief glimpse of the curve of her breasts in the moonlight, the same breasts that were pushed up against his chest right now. In sensory overload, he longed to ravish the mouth, force open her lips and thrust his tongue into its warmth.

With super human effort learned from years of restraint and self-denial, he held back. He let her control the kiss, shivering as she went from a delicate, tentative touch to a more practiced movement. He was unprepared, however, when she herself deepened the kiss and he felt a moist tongue seeking entrance to his own mouth. The warning bell of caution was still going off in his mind, but it seemed very far away. He parted his lips and allowed her entrance.

Hermione felt Snape relax his lips. She gently pushed her tongue into his mouth wondering how he would react. For an instant, she thought he wasn’t going to do anything. She tasted warmth and coffee. Then, with an sudden intake of breath, he tightened his arms around her, brought one hand up to cradle the back of her head and let the other ride deliciously downwards, stopping in the small of her back. He crushed his body against hers, opened his mouth full wide and then invaded her mouth his own tongue.

She was overwhelmed. Her senses clouded. His tongue searched her mouth thoroughly and relentlessly. Her nipples, hard as diamonds, pressed into his firm chest. Hermione felt heat and wetness building between her legs, echoing the heat and wetness in her mouth. As he thrust his tongue deeply into her, mimicking the sex act, she felt the ache of longing lower down. A small noise escaped her throat.

The little half moan almost sent Snape over the edge. Involuntary reaction caused him to buck against her. The hard bulge in his groin was pressed into her stomach. He could feel heat emanating from her near his thigh. He pushed his thigh slightly between her legs and instantly felt her press against him, and an almost imperceptible movement as she created stimulation. It might have gone farther if Hermione hadn’t made a fatal error at that point. She slid both hands off his shoulders and let them slide down to his buttocks, caressing them, pulling him into her.

Snape broke off the kiss and grabbed her hands. He pulled them upwards and stepped back away from her. He looked deeply into her eyes, trying to control his breath.

“Time to say goodnight I think,” he murmured.

Hermione also was panting. She still felt the spot on her stomach where his erection had pressed only moments before. “I think I’d like to sit down a minute, before I go back and face the others.”

She moved to a nearby bench and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Snape, who had been prepared to flee, found himself standing near her. He removed his outer robe and wrapped it around her shivering form.

“I sorry,” he started.

Hermione interrupted him, “I’m not. It’s been a beautiful evening.”

Snape nodded, “I just hope you know that I...”

“Yes, I know,” she smiled. “I hope we’ll meet again soon, Professor Snape.”

“You’re not a student any more. You may call me Severus.”

“Thank you, Severus. And you’ll call me Hermione?” she asked.

Snape nodded again. “Good night Hermione. And goodbye.”

He turned to go, swiftly traversing the rose garden path, his signature black clothes a dark movement in the moonlight. She sighed and shivered. No man had ever made her want him like this.

“Well didn’t you make an interesting pair?” sneered Draco Malfoy from the shadows. He emerged with Pansy Parkinson on his arm. He had a smear of lipstick on his face and Pansy’s hair was mussed, her gown covered in leaves and twigs.

“Does Weasley know you’re snogging Snape?”

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Hermione replied.

“Oh believe me, I intend to,” Malfoy answered as he pulled a giggling Pansy back into the shadows.

Apparently Malfoy had spent as much time that night spreading rumors as he had with playing with Pansy Parkinson. Although Hermione awoke early the next morning to finish packing, she found that she was being given the cold shoulder by everyone in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was not the way she had hoped to leave Hogwarts.

“All packed, Ron?” she asked cheerily and he came in from the dormitories.

Ron looked past her as though she wasn’t there.

“Harry?” Hermione tried, “Where are you going for your holidays?”

“Maybe if you’d spent more time in Gryffindor over the last few weeks you’d know.” he snapped.

She tried talking to Ginny but she, too, was silent.

Only Neville would discuss it. “Why, Hermione? He’s nasty and mean. Why?”

Before she could answer Seamus cheekily piped up, “Because she wanted some Slytherin in her and according to Malfoy she got it last night!”

There were a few coarse laughs. Hermione fled back to her own room where the house elves were busy collecting her cartons for the train. She picked up Severus’s outer robe that he had wrapped around her the night before. She hugged it to herself. She could smell his scent on it. Musky and good. She started for the door to return it.

“If you’re looking for Professor Snape, he’s ain’t here.” said one of the house elves.

“He’s gone?” Hermione asked.

“He left after the ball last night. You can leave his cloak here and I’ll put it in his rooms for him.”

Reluctantly, Hermione relinquished the cloak. It was her last tie to Hogwarts.

The common room was silent as she walked out through the portrait hole for the last time. It was a relief to get on the train, away from her uncomprehending friends, and look forward to the future.

Severus Snape knew he had let things go too far. He should never have kissed her. Even now the memory of that kiss burned hot. If she only knew how close he had been to losing control, she might have been afraid. Her moan, her heat, her response; he had very nearly pushed her down in the bushes and taken her then and there. If she hadn’t gone just the tiniest bit too fast, causing his conscience to panic and his last shreds of self-control to kick in, if it hadn’t been for that, she might have lost her innocence, with or without her permission.

Snape began to pack his bags. He needed to get away. He thought about that kiss again. Perhaps she wasn’t so innocent? He paused a moment as he remembered her probing tongue, how she had initiated the contact, moaning, rubbing on his thigh, caressing his buttocks. Perhaps her and Weasley? Snape shook his head. Hermione had told him there had been nothing between herself and Weasley. Potter? The thought of that blasted Potter buried between Hermione’s thighs made him feel slightly sick. In fact, it reminded him of a girl from his past, someone Potter Senior had stolen from him. Coming back to the present, he remembered Krum.

Yes, Viktor Krum, the famous quidditch star. The one all the female students ran after. He and Hermione had spent quite a lot of time together when Hogwarts had hosted the triwizard tournament. Krum had been a lot older than she was too. Had he...? Had they...?

Snape crashed the lid of his case down. He was getting out. Tonight.