Homework

My heartfelt thanks goes out to my two betas, JENGEORGE and NervousAboutAngels, plus the staff here at The Petulant Poetess, for sifting through the drivel and helping me to hone my writing skills.

And homage is paid, as always, to the amazing J. K. Rowling for inventing the wonderful characters and environment that we now get to play in. I make no money from the writing or sharing of this tale.

Chapter 12

Homework

No sooner had Gomez disappeared over the rooftops to deliver her letter to Snape than another bird landed on Hermione's windowsill by her desk at the Ministry. The burrowing owl stuck out his leg without hesitation as she reached for the note.

"Wait!" she implored him as she hurriedly unfurled the parchment. It was from Lisa Turpin-Belby, her friend at the Prophet, requesting that they meet for drinks after work. She scribbled out her agreement on a separate sheet, rolled it up and tied it to the waiting bird's leg, then sent him on his way. With all of the commotion surrounding her failing marriage, she hadn't given Rita Skeeter's curse one moment of thought. But now that she had Severus Snape back on her side, as well as Blaise Zabini, she knew that her custody battle would be settled with some sort of visitation rights eventually, so she could spare a few moments to contemplate Rita's fate.

*****

Snape sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen. He had turned it on, not knowing where Miss Granger had elected to spend the rest of her lunch hour. Did she remain at her parents' house or return to work? The Ministry contained an extensive law library within its walls. If she had not become too distraught from his torturous verbal thrashing, she may have taken the opportunity to check out some books on the subject of her current dilemma. If she was half as strong-willed and clever as he knew she could be, that was surely the reason that he had not heard back right away. There were no windows in the library since it was down deep in the bowels of the building and well underground. The letter's delivery had been delayed somehow. He hoped that her visit to the library was the reason, and she would be even more anxious to compare notes once she had read his letter. At least these were the excuses he tried to force into his mind as he tried equally hard to quell the idea that she simply refused to accept his apology.

Finally, there came a tapping at his bedroom window. But when Snape looked up, he was surprised by both Gomez and Morticia impatiently pacing the ledge. When allowed entry, Gomez obediently stuck out his leg while Morticia flew up to Snape's shoulder and rubbed her head against his cheek. Both birds then nuzzled up against him as he put the letter to his nose and slowly inhaled. No howler ever smelled this good, he thought as he carefully opened it. But both birds continued to rub up against him to the point of distraction, so he gently gathered up each one and unceremoniously placed them on the outside ledge. "Off you go," he insisted, shaking his head at their odd behavior. Never in all his years had he seen two owls behave with such affection towards a human.

My Dearest Professor Snape,

Hermione Granger

Snape caressed the parchment as if it were Miss Granger's face. His guilt-ridden vision of her sorrowful tears faded as the memory of her joyous smile took its place. She forgave him, thank Merlin. Not only that, she had called him her Knight in Shining Armor. No woman had ever referred to him in that light. To anyone else, he was just a mean and bitter old man. And she was willing to accept his offer of help. In fact, she had expressed a need for it. She would even be lost without him. Snape felt both relieved and elated. Her words were more than he had dared hope for. With the exception of Albus Dumbledore, Miss Granger was the only person that Snape had ever known who could see through his stony exterior and into his heart. She had somehow managed to search beyond his angry words and find the concern that he really felt, the desperation, the compassion. Her heart held a gift beyond words, and that walnut brain, Weasley, had just thrown it away.

What a fool.

Snape turned off his computer and made his way over to the bed. Even though he now habitually forced himself to wake up at 8 a.m. every morning, he could never quite bring himself to fall asleep until 2 or 3 a.m., so he usually required a nap in the afternoon. Today was no exception. With great relief, he disrobed and eased himself under the soft comforter and nestled his head into the pillow.

About an hour later, Snape bolted upright, panting heavily, as he clutched the comforter up to his chest. His hair was stuck to his face and neck with sweat, and the comforter felt sticky from his waist to his knees. He had been dreaming about Miss Granger. Her face, her eyes, her hair, so soft and fragrant... He had been kissing her neck, just in the spot where he imagined that she dabbed on the Secret Recipe. The taste of her skin mixed with that perfume had teased and tantalized his dream senses to the point of ecstasy, and he realized, with great embarrassment, that his dream self had spent his very real manhood all over the comforter!

Snape stood hastily and cast a Scourgify spell over the bed, then gathered up his clothes and headed into the shower in the hopes that Winky had given herself the afternoon off. What in Merlin's name was this woman doing to him? He had previously doubted that that part of his anatomy worked anymore. And now his worries included what to expect if his groin had a mind of its own the next time they met in person. The mere thought turned Snape three shades of purple. Hermione Granger turned him on. Who'd have thought?

*****

Later that afternoon, Hermione met Lisa in the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. She learned that, since the article on Flitwick's retirement hit the newsstands, Rita had been conspicuously absent from the office. Hermione's broad smile told Lisa that she definitely had something to do with it, but Hermione resisted the temptation to let Lisa in on the little secret. "Let's just say that I have my suspicions as to why Rita is not around this week. And I predict that she will come back on Thursday morning."

Their conversation turned to Hermione and Ron's failed marriage and the shameful way in which her ex-husband had been conducting himself in public with Lavender Brown. Lisa was lucky to have Marcus. Not only did his family have clout, but he knew how to treat Lisa with respect and conduct himself with dignity, two things that Ron had never learned.

Lisa finally confessed that she needed to get home to her husband, so they said their goodbyes, and Lisa promised to send Hermione an owl when Rita returned to work.

As pleasant as Lisa's company had been, Hermione could hardly wait to get back home to see if Snape was online. To her delight, his screen name showed up on her buddies online list. The instant her screen had fully loaded, his first line appeared.

HalfBloodPrince: I've been waiting for you. I was beginning to worry.

HalfBloodPrince: You don't have to look closely to surmise that Miss Skeeter was most definitely not born yesterday. You mentioned in your note that you checked out a few law books that may be of some use. I would be interested in the titles. I read through several books at Hogwarts last weekend, but must admit that their selection was a bit limited. I'm sure the Ministry library has a much more comprehensive collection.

Hermione proceeded to dictate the titles of all 20+ books she had checked out, and he replied back as to which ones he had already read, which ones sounded promising, and which he would be most interested in reading. Then the screen remained unchanged for few moments as Snape contemplated his next move.

He had asked her to lunch and rescinded the offer. Should he ask her again? Was it too soon? Would she reject him before he could reject her again? His doubts clouded his usual crystal clarity of purpose. In the past, the idea of lunch during the week was all he thought he could stand, but now, when faced with the notion of her inaccessibly confined in Azkaban, he felt that an eternity wasn't long enough for a good lunch. Besides, if they seriously needed to filter through and assess all of this reading material, they would need hours. But it was only Monday. He didn't want to wait until the following weekend. That seemed months away, not days. That left an invitation to dinner. But what would she think of that? Would she question his motives? Come to think of it, what were his motives? After his eventful dream, he was no longer sure.

Snape finally decided to plunge ahead. He had screwed things up earlier today. Perhaps by day's end he could find more than one way to make it up to her.

HalfBloodPrince: Have you eaten dinner? Winky has all of this leftover food from some banquet that never materialized this afternoon. She informed me that the host had consumed an evil dark potion which made him act like a complete arse and scare away the guest of honor. You could bring the books and we could go over them together.

Hermione's heart jumped from her chest to her throat. Severus Snape had just asked her to dinner! She couldn't believe her good fortune. Once again, her mind drifted back to the daydream she had had earlier in the afternoon and to the imaginary kiss at the river's edge. His letter of apology sounded so gracious. There was still hope. But she was tired, and it was already late. The harrowing day had worn away at her already ragged nerves, and she had downed three firewhiskys at the Leaky Cauldron. The last thing she wanted was to turn into a sobbing idiot in Snape's dining room. No, if she was really going to spend hours with Severus Snape, she wanted to be wide awake, sober and have total control of her emotions.

MuggleBornWitch: I'm so exhausted that I will probably just go to bed without eating. May I take a rain check? Tomorrow night, perhaps?

The instant she hit send, she felt a spike of fear go through her heart. She really was tired and would probably truly go to bed after they had finished their computer dialogue. But she was so afraid of offending him. Part of her wanted to see him so badly, but in her present condition, she couldn't guarantee that the evening wouldn't end in disaster. Hermione held her breath as she waited for his reply.

HalfBloodPrince: Tomorrow it is. Same plan as before. I will await your appearance on the computer. Then I will come to your house. No need to drop your Anti-Apparation wards. I will knock on the door as I did the very first time I arrived.

HalfBloodPrince: Tomorrow then.

With a much lighter heart, Snape logged off and headed downstairs for the kitchen. There would be no dinner guest tonight, so he figured this would be a good time to brew another vat of Hugo's potion. As he worked in his kitchen, Winky Apparated in with a pop and asked him what his wishes were for dinner.

"Leftovers from today's lunch, I suppose," came his reply. "Oh, by the way, I have extended an invitation to Miss Granger for dinner tomorrow."

Winky smiled broadly. "Winky knew Miss Granger would forgive Master."

"If I say anything stupid or cruel while she is here," Snape asked with sparkling eyes, "would you please place me in a full Body-Bind curse and give her my apologies?"

"Oh, Master Severus." Winky turned her head to the side and looked up at him innocently. "That won't be necessary. The evening may not be everything Master hopes for, but it will go well enough." With that oddly prophetic statement, she turned towards the refrigerator and began to Levitate the leftover food to the dining room table where she arranged it all with her usual artistry. "Just tell Winky when Master is ready to eat."

"Just a couple more ingredients and I'll be finished here," Snape commented absent-mindedly. He had brewed Hugo's potion so many times that he could almost do it with his eyes closed. After the addition of a tablespoon of honey to make the taste more bearable, Snape set the fire to low so it could simmer for an hour. Then it would need eight hours to mature and he could send a phial to Molly's house in the morning.

*****

Hermione seemed to float upstairs to draw herself a bath. In less than 24 hours, she would be dining with Professor Snape in his house! As she eased herself down into the steaming water, she felt her aching muscles begin to relax. She closed her eyes and imagined his warm hands caressing her curves as the warmth of the water caressed her bare skin. Would he kiss her? Would he, perhaps, just perhaps, even ask her to stay?

She fantasized about his appearance under those many layers of clothing. She had seen his bare chest in St. Mungo's all those years ago. His physique had seemed gaunt then, almost as if he had been starved half to death. But his muscles still appeared well toned and developed, and there was just enough black hair against that pale skin to entice her fingers...

Hermione felt a slow burning sensation in her nether regions that she had not felt for a very long time. Severus Snape turned her on! Merlin's monocle! Was she going senile? No, she told herself after some time. She had always felt attracted to the mysterious and distant Potions professor.

*****

The following day dragged on as Hermione forced herself to go through the motions at work. Instead of Apparating home, she spent her lunch hour at her desk going over two of the books that she felt held the most promise. But the hours inched by at a snail's pace. As she stared at the clock on the wall, it seemed that the second hand stood still in some sort of suspended animation. And her job had never seemed so boring.

At 4:30 p.m., Hermione stood up and announced to her coworkers that she was calling it a day and marched out of the door without ceremony. When she got home she bounded up the stairs to change clothes and freshen up. She had to look her best for the tall, dark, and mysterious Professor Snape. Would a bit of his mystery be unveiled this evening? Hermione hoped so with all of her heart. She couldn't remember when she had ever been this excited about an evening with a man. The night of the Yule Ball her fourth year at Hogwarts came to mind, but that night she was more nervous than excited. Since the only man she had ever had sex with was Ron, that revelation didn't surprise her, but she suddenly realized how inexperienced and how innocent to the ways of the world she really was.

Hermione checked herself in the mirror. A dark, Slytherin green skirt with black belt, low black pumps, and a Gryffindor gold tank top... Onyx earrings set in gold, with a matching necklace which hung low around her neck, inviting a glance into her cleavage... Her black traveling cloak matched her pumps and would suffice to keep the chill off as they walked by the river's edge. She studied her hair. Each curl had been carefully charmed to stay in place so that it couldn't get too wild, even if the wind had other ideas, and her make-up was perfect. After dabbing on the Secret Recipe, she let out a great sigh and headed back down the staircase to the family room. The mantle clock told her that the time was already 5:35 p.m. This was it.

She turned on her ancient computer. It seemed to take forever to come up, but when it finally did, she saw Snape's screen name in her buddies list box. Then, almost instantly, a message appeared on screen.

HalfBloodPrince: Ready or not, here I come...

Hermione grinned from ear to ear. She was ready for him.

A few moments later the doorbell rang. She walked briskly to the door and looked out onto an apparently empty front porch, but she knew better. "Won't you come in?" she asked.

Snape drank in Miss Granger's form like a cool glass of iced tea on a hot summer day. He couldn't remember the last time he had had the privilege of witnessing such loveliness. "Actually," replied his silky voice from what seemed to be thin air, "if you Disillusion yourself, we can simply Disapparate from your front porch.

"Why waste time?" Hermione chuckled. "Let me get my bag. It has all of the books in it." She stepped quickly back into the family room to retrieve the bag and returned to the front hallway to grab her traveling cloak.

"Here, let me help you with that," Snape offered as he took her cloak and draped it gently over her shoulders.

Hermione then tapped herself on the head and began to vanish, but the instant she did so, she felt Snape's strong hand grab her arm and lead her outside. "We mustn't lose each other," he explained as she felt his arm slip around her waist. Her heartrate skyrocketed as she pulled the door closed and tapped her invisible wand to the knob, reengaging the Muggle lock. "Hold on tight," she heard him say. She obediently wrapped both arms around his midsection and closed her eyes. It didn't matter where he was taking her. She would have gone anywhere with this amazing man.

For the first time in his life, Snape actually enjoyed the sensation of being squeezed through the Apparation process. He could feel every inch of Miss Granger's body pressing against his even through their many layers of clothing. His face buried itself in her hair as he greedily took in her scent mixed with the Secret Recipe. But just as his blood began to rush to places that might cause him embarrassment, the trip was over and they stood in each others' arms on the riverbank. It was still broad daylight, so he immediately glanced around to see if they were alone. A young couple could be seen off in the distance, holding hands as they walked along the shore, but they only had eyes for each other.

Snape found it difficult to let Miss Granger go. She seemed to be having the same problem, because they stood motionless for quite some time. But since he couldn't see her face, he had no idea what she might be thinking. Finally, he broke the silence. "I think the coast is clear." They reluctantly released each other and removed their respective Disillusionment Charms. Miss Granger appeared before him, once again, as a vision of such loveliness that she left him speechless.

Hermione glanced around and noticed a playground with a see-saw, a merry-go-round and a shiny new swing set obscured by some bushes only a few meters away. Her mind drifted back to Snape's childhood memories that Harry had mentioned from his Pensieve dive on the night of Voldemort's downfall. "So, this is the river from your childhood? This is where you met Lily Evans?"

The instant she mentioned Lily's name she felt Snape's entire demeanor change. He became stiff and cold as a dormant, leafless tree in the dead of winter. Hermione kicked herself inwardly. Idiot! The last thing you should do if you want to break down the walls around his heart is to mention the only woman he ever loved!

"Yes," Snape confirmed with a barely discernable nod. "This is the river of my childhood. Only now, as you can see, the atmosphere is much more pleasant. The Muggles," he explained as he carefully redirected the conversation, "have done an excellent job of cleaning up the area and eliminating the pollutants which used to contaminate its waters."

Snape hadn't thought of Lily for quite some time. But the mere mention of her name brought back a flood of memories both pleasant and torturous. The poison of pureblood rhetoric that had infected his soul had been her undoing. And even though he had saved her son and given the boy the tools that he had needed to defeat Voldemort, he still felt gut-wrenching guilt at the mention of her name.

Would the residue of that poison bring about Miss Granger's downfall as well? If they became romantically involved, would his status as a convicted felon cost her her job at the Ministry? Or worse, could it prevent her from gaining access to her children? With those questions embedded in his mind, he pushed his fantasies aside and decided that, for her sake as well as her children's, a clandestine friendship was all that he could allow.

Silence reigned for the remainder of their walk from the riverbank to the little house on Spinner's End. Hermione barely noticed the nice, neat, two-story cottages with their manicured yards and flowerboxes in the windows. All she could think about was how she had already ruined her chances with this emotionally fragile man with just one stupid, senseless, irrelevant question.

When they reached the house, Winky's glowing smile greeted them just inside the doorway, but it was soon replaced with a look of concern as she glanced first at Snape's austere face and then at Miss Granger's sorrowful one. But she warmly greeted them both and dutifully painted the same smile back on in hopes of salvaging something of the evening. They had just arrived, after all. Good food and spirits would surely cheer them up.

Snape removed Miss Granger's traveling cloak and hung it in the front hall closet, and offered Miss Granger a seat on the couch.

"Would you care for a cocktail, a glass of wine perhaps?" Snape offered graciously.

"Just some water for now, I think," Hermione replied as she remembered her reason for declining the previous day's invitation.

"Winky has made lemonade and iced tea for miss, if miss would like," Winky mentioned from the kitchen doorway.

"Lemonade would be fine, thanks."

"Make that two," added Snape as he settled himself into the padded chair beside the couch.

Winky was quite surprised by Snape's request for lemonade. She had never seen him drink it, but she brought two glasses, along with the baguette toasts and foie gras, and watched with amusement from the doorway as he took his first sip. He tried not to let his distaste show on his face, but Winky had to retreat to the kitchen so her giggles couldn't be heard. Luckily, Miss Granger happened to be reaching for a piece of toast, so she didn't notice his grimace or Winky's reaction.

"So," Snape began as he put down his glass in disgust, "which books did you bring with you?"

"Oh, I have quite an assortment, as you know from the list I provided you last night." She reached into her handbag and began to pull them out.

Snape took each one in tiny form and sorted them into the titles which he had already read, the ones that held promise, and the ones that, in his opinion, would do nothing to further her cause. "Here." He handed her back the pile that he felt would be useless. "Put those away for now. These others should give us plenty to focus on tonight."

Just then, Winky emerged from the kitchen with more toast and foie gras and a glass of red wine for Snape.

"Great lemonade, Winky. Very tasty," commented Hermione with a smile.

"Winky is glad that somebody thinks so," she said with a smirk as she handed Snape his wine and removed the offensive beverage from his coaster.

"Sorry, Winky, but it's just not my cup of tea." Snape smiled graciously at her as she replenished the toast.

Hermione looked from Winky to Snape and back again. She could tell by their brief exchange that they had mutual respect and affection for each other. It felt much more like a partnership than a master/slave relationship. This put her mind at ease. She never liked the idea of house-elf ownership. It was a repulsive tradition that she had spent much of her adult life fighting against.

"Why did you ask for it if you didn't like it?"

"I had never tried it before, so I didn't know."

"Then how did she know that you didn't like it? You didn't tell her. I didn't hear you ask for the wine."

"I've come to the conclusion that, over the years, Winky has learned to read my moods so well that she could almost be classified as a psychic."

"I see." Hermione nodded her head. "I'll keep that in mind."

This exchange lightened the mood considerably as they began to peruse the books and discuss their contents. Hermione still felt that any ideas of romance had evaporated the moment she had mentioned Lily while on the riverbank, but the mood was still amiable and the evening would still pass pleasantly.

After about an hour, Winky announced that dinner was served, and the two moved themselves to the dining room, leaving the books behind for the moment. A dusty dry red wine in a long-stemmed crystal glass adorned each place setting as did the most beautiful china and sterling silver that Hermione had ever seen. Winky had outdone herself as the two started with a spinach salad, followed by veal in a light cream sauce, with rice pilaf and steamed vegetables on the side. And even though Hermione felt she was about to burst, she didn't have the heart to turn down the grand finale, a chocolate mousse parfait topped with whipped cream and a cherry.

"If I ate like this every day, I would be as big around as my refrigerator!" she admitted. "How do you stay so fit with meals like these?"

Snape smiled broadly. "Don't worry. I don't expect Winky to go to this much trouble every day."

"Winky would gladly do so for Master Severus," she interjected from the kitchen.

"Ah, yes, but then I too, would be as large as my refrigerator. And that would be a disaster since then I would no longer be able to fit through the door of my greenhouse or into my bathroom shower!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud at that notion. "Yes, that would be a disaster!"

They let the books sit unattended for just a while longer as they engaged in conversation with each a snifter of fine cognac in hand to help wash down the food.

"You know, I thought of an idea that just might help you gain access to your children, whether your dunderheaded husband likes it or not."

"Oh?" He had definitely piqued her interest.

"Why don't you apply for Flitwick's job? You excelled at Charms. Certainly you are qualified to teach it."

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. Of course... It was the perfect solution to her dilemma. She was speechless. Why hadn't she thought of it?

"You could see them in your classroom at school and at meals every day, and there would be nothing Walnut Brain could do about it."

"I did fancy becoming a teacher at one point. And I do love children."

"I assure you that love of children is not a requirement," Snape said with a sneer. "But I imagine that would make it a more enjoyable and rewarding experience."

"Oh, come on. You enjoyed teaching, admit it. You miss it... All those fresh young minds just waiting to be filled with potion formulae."

"I like to think that I filled them all with fear and intimidation first and foremost."

This time it was Hermione's turn to sneer. "I really do hate my job at the Ministry. I doubt that there's anything more I can do for house-elves or centaurs, much less the giants. It's worth a try, I guess. Did Headmaster McGonagall say anything about it when you were there last weekend?"

"Only that she had no applicants yet who were even remotely qualified. She was hoping for someone who had at least scored an Outstanding on the Charms NEWT exam."

"I scored an Outstanding on all of my NEWT exams," Hermione admitted with a touch of pride.

"Well, there you are."

"But Hugo won't even start at Hogwarts until next fall, and that's over a year away. I haven't seen Rose since Easter break. I can't wait that long. There has to be a way for Ron to see reason."

With that urgent plea, the two took their snifters and retreated to the study and went back to searching through the pile of books.

After reading for some time, Hermione sat back on the couch and snorted in disgust. "I can't even get my children back if the bastard dies!"

"What?" Snape leaned over to read the passage she had just finished.

"It talks about a case where the wife murdered the ex-husband, and the children were raised by the husband's parents while the wife spent the rest of her days in Azkaban."

"Well, what would you expect if she was a murderer?"

"She only murdered him because he wouldn't let her see her children. She had no prior criminal record."

"But still..."

"And she would have gotten away with it, too, but for the portrait who witnessed it."

"A portrait was the only witness?"

"Yes."

"Then why couldn't Dumbledore's portrait testify in my trial?"

"The circumstances there were completely different. He would have had to testify about things that had happened while he was still alive. No one knows comprehensively how the memory is affected when someone's consciousness is imprinted on a portrait. His memory of his life could have been distorted; important facts could have been missing."

Snape sat back in his chair with a huff. "You sound like Kingsley when he informed me of the Wizengamot's decision."

Hermione sat in silent contemplation for a moment. "No portrait had even been allowed to testify in his own murder trial before. There was no precedent. They voted, didn't they? Whether to allow it or not?"

"Yes, yes. And it was voted down." Snape sighed heavily. This was definitely not something that he had any desire to talk about. "Let's move on, shall we?"

"Sorry." She buried her nose back in the same book. "Right... Here is another case listed where the pureblood ex-husband died of natural causes, and his parents still ended up with the children, even though the Muggle-born mother was alive and well and innocent of any wrongdoing."

"That is most unfortunate." Snape sat back in his chair and became thoughtful. "I mentioned that I spoke with Molly about the truth of your predicament, didn't I?"

Hermione nodded. "You told her that Ron had been lying to everyone about what was happening."

"Yes, and now I will be sending Hugo's potion to her house, and they both have vowed to send me letters every week with updates as to his condition."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin that someone is on my side."

"Perhaps we are taking the wrong approach. Perhaps, if we work on Molly's sense of fairness and what's best for the children, she can help convince the wastrel to let you have access to your children."

"Do you think I should write to her?"

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "I would think that a diplomatically worded plea to her sense of justice would work wonders. Over the summer, she's bound to be taking care of the children while her son is at work. Perhaps you could convince her to let you stop by for a visit, or invite her over for lunch and bring the children."

Hermione's spirits lifted at the mere thought of such an event. "Thank you, Professor. That's a great idea. I may need you to send my owl back to me, though. I assume that he has taken up residence here?"

"Yes, Gomez and Morticia have become an item," Snape informed her with some amusement. "They are constructing a nest. I suspect that there will be eggs soon. And they are the two most affectionate creatures that I have even encountered."

Hermione beamed at him. "With each other or with you? I only ask because the last time you sent me a note, Gomez spread his wings and rubbed against me as if he were trying to give me a hug. It was the strangest thing I have ever seen an owl do."

Snape agreed. "When you sent back your reply, they both came to the window and acted in a similar fashion. I couldn't even read your letter without setting them both back outside. Very strange, indeed."

"I think it's rather touching, myself," she admitted shyly as she stole a quick glance at Snape. As their eyes locked, she felt herself wishing that the evening would never end. She longed for his arms to hold her. As she tried to silently convey that thought to him, however, he hastily looked away. Damn! I just couldn't leave well enough alone, could I?

Snape felt that hungry desire begin to build up again. Merlin...if she only didn't have children, if I only had not been convicted... if she had only just left me to die that night as I was meant to. He turned his gaze to the myriad books lining his shelves, but he didn't see them. Instead, his mind was filled with what could have been had his life been just a little bit different. If the court had only listened to Potter... if Dumbledore's portrait could only have been allowed to testify... if Snape had only answered one of Miss Granger's sixty letters... If only. Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's getting late. Perhaps we can continue this another time."

Hermione swallowed hard. She made a pitiful attempt to hide her disappointment. "Would you like to keep any of these to read?"

Snape reached across the table and pointed to three of the larger tomes. "Those should keep me busy for a few days."

"Very well, then." She shrank down the remaining books and shoved them back into her handbag.

Snape stood and retrieved her traveling cloak from the front hall closet as she came to the door. "Goodbye, Winky," she called out, hoping the elf was within earshot.

Her little head appeared promptly in the kitchen doorway. "Leaving so soon, miss?"

"It's getting late, Winky." Snape glared at Winky with stern eyes to let her know not to try to redirect this turn of events. "Miss Granger has to be at work early in the morning."

"Dinner was outstanding, Winky. You're an amazing cook. Professor Snape should consider himself blessed."

"Oh, thank you, miss." Winky bowed deeply. "Will we see you again soon?"

Snape turned his head so only Winky could see as he scowled and bared his teeth at her in an unmistakable gesture that she had better silence herself, or else!

"Actually, I was hoping that Professor Snape would join me for dinner tomorrow night."

"That won't give me time to read these and work on my potions projects as well. Perhaps by this weekend I will have given them their proper attention. Shall we aim for Saturday night?"

Hermione's face lit up. "You could come for lunch and stay through dinner if need be. It would give us much more time."

Snape wasn't sure if he liked that idea or not, but this was not the time or place to discuss it. "We'll see," was his only response. "Let me walk you back to the riverbank. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you in the dark. It's not a bad neighborhood anymore, but one never knows." As he opened the door for Miss Granger, Snape shot one last warning glance at Winky, who had placed her tiny hand over her mouth and was trying not to giggle.

They walked again in silence as they made their way to the river's edge. "I believe that you can Disapparate from here without being seen by anyone, but you may want to Disillusion yourself first." Snape gazed into her face as she turned towards him to say goodbye. Her eyes glistened and sparkled in the moonlight, just as the moon made the rushing river sparkle. The serenity and romance this scene had to offer was not lost on Snape's heart, but he couldn't let his heart rule his head. Not only did her aroma fill his nostrils, but he could actually feel the effects of her pheromones as they filled the air. Oh, Merlin's maelstrom, how he wanted to scoop her up and take her back to his bed. But he knew that that would be selfish and foolhardy. For her own good, he had to keep his distance.

Hermione wanted to dive into the depths of his bottomless black eyes, if for no other reason than to see why he looked so sorrowful. His look was of longing, but was it longing for her or for Lily? Or for something else that was indefinable? She would have given almost anything to have been a decent Legilimens at that moment, but she never could master the spell. She would have settled for letting him see inside of her mind so he would know, without question, just how she felt about him, but he didn't use it on her. So instead, she looked at him with such longing that it must have been unmistakable, undeniable. But he just stood there like a stiff, wooden statue with a pained expression on his face.

Finally, Hermione could take no more. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed his hot cheek. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, "for everything." She kissed his cheek again, hoping against hope that he would turn his head and their lips would meet, but she was disappointed once more. As she continued to hold him, she eventually felt his arms wrap lightly around her, but there was no passion in his grip. And when she finally faced the fact that nothing more was going to happen tonight, she let go and stepped away. Snape's eyes appeared tightly shut and his brow was furrowed. When he didn't open his eyes, her heart sank. She assumed that she had messed things up yet again, and without another word, she Disapparated.

With the sound of rustling leaves and the tell-tale "crack" of Disapparation, Snape opened his eyes. He had kept his eyes shut so as not to betray his feelings. He knew that if she had tried to kiss him, really kiss him, his resolve would have given way to reckless abandonment, and then there would have been no turning back. He would rather have suffered the Cruciatus Curse than to let her leave like that, but he knew it was the right thing to do. With a heavy heart he made his way back home. He was not looking forward to Saturday.