Chapter 45

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Also, no money made either...just for fun. Oh, and all of Professor Twycross' dialogue, the snippets that I have, are borrowed without permission from Mrs. Rowling's book. I truly hope she doesn't mind.

Once again, the events that are not mentioned in this story that happen in the books remain as they happened in the books.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to Phoenix for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

It started to rain the end of January, a heavy, cold rain, melting the pristine white snow that had covered everything like frosting in a mere four days, replacing it with muddy walkways, slippery wet lawns and bare, cold rock. But Hermione was too excited with the prospect of doing Apparition to care.

At breakfast on the morning before her first Apparition lesson, the purplish-grey rain clouds were once again reflected in the ceiling overhead in the Great Hall, and heavy raindrops fell down between the floating candles that thankfully evaporated several feet above everyone's heads. It had been too cold to be outside this week, but all throughout the castle, wall mounted torches and the braziers burning dragon stones helped keep some of the chill out of the corridors and classrooms. Still, Hermione had been grateful for lessons like Potions, with all the steaming cauldrons and the magical Dagworth burners, and for the practical lessons in Defense and Charms. The Ancient Runes classroom, on the other hand, was chilly, even with the braziers glowing in the corner since Professor Bathsheba Babbling, who was Scottish, always liked having the windows cracked open a little to let in a bit of fresh air. Thankfully, Hermione became quite adept at warming charms, but she and her classmates still kept on their scarves to fend off the cold.

But nothing was going to dampen her mood today. Even watching Harry leave to find a place in the back of the room wasn't going to ruin her first Apparition lesson. All the Heads of Houses were present to keep order and, Hermione assumed, to help out students who needed it. It was so exciting.

Professor Snape positioned himself in the center of the room, two rows ahead of where she'd taken her place. He'd discarded his robes, favoring his frockcoat and trousers, but he was still a formidable presence in the huge Hall. When Professor Twycross began his lecture, Hermione paid rapt attention, repeating everything he said in her mind to make sure she remembered every word since she had no way of writing it down. Not that she hadn't read every possible book on Apparition in the library twice and the hand out pamphlet three times.

"Destination. Determination. Deliberation," she repeated after him. Destination. Determination. Deliberation, she iterated three times. She was going to get this right.

As Professor Twycross started his count down, Hermione almost panicked. What? Now? No preparation? We don't get to ask any questions?

She saw Professor Snape look at her, directly at her, as if to say, 'You can do this. Focus,' and she affirmed her determination, and concentrated on what Professor Twycross was saying as she stared at the center of her hoop. Destination...my hoop. Right there. Now focus... you can do this. Into the hoop...right there.

"... determination to occupy..." the professor was saying.

Okay, I'm determined. I can do this. Yes. Right. I am going to do this.

"... deliberation! On my command now... one..."

She inhaled, once again catching Severus' eye as he scanned the room, his gaze sweeping across every face, alert, aware, wand in his hand.

"...two..."

Right, focus. Into the hoop. Into the hoop. I can do this. I'm a witch...I can do this.

On, "Three!" Hermione turned on the spot, willing herself to be in the hoop. Determined to go from where she was to into the hoop. Her destination. She was determined. She willed it to happen.

But that's not what happened.

She'd made an awkward pirouette and almost lost her balance. How embarrassing!

But as she looked around, she realized that she was not the only one who failed...everyone had! Moreover, Professor Twycross was giving directions to adjust their hoops and try again as if he'd expected everyone to fail. Blushing, Hermione made sure her hoop was in the right place and mentally prepared to try it again. Right. Okay. You don't always do your spells on the first try. I'll do better this go.

Her second, third and fourth tries were just as embarrassing. However, behind her on her left, there was a horrible cry of pain. She instantly whirled around to see who it was and gasped in stunned horror. One second Hermione was staring at Susan Bones, wobbling on one leg, looking as if she'd faint...the next, all four Heads of House converged on Susan, each casting spells on both Susan and her leg, which had been five feet away from her. Before Hermione could blink twice, Professors Snape and McGonagall, for they were the ones she could see clearly, were flicking and swishing their wands with incredible speed, which made a loud bang and sharp crack as their spells collided and layered together...a puff of purple smoke and... Susan was fine. Standing there completely normal, although she looked horrified, shaking uncontrollably as Professor Sprout tried to comfort her.

Hermione searched the Hall for Professor Snape, amazed at what she'd witnessed. He was moving about the room, telling everyone, "Miss Bones is fine. Mind your hoops and prepare to try again," as if this were a normal occurrence to be fully expected.

Professor Twycross was saying, "...that when the mind is insufficiently determined..."

She turned her attention to the Ministry Professor, trying to take in what he was saying. He demonstrated Apparation, making it look so easy.

Hermione faced front, trying to block out what had happened to Susan from her mind. She made several more attempts, but in her mind, she was always afraid to lose an arm or a leg, or worse, her head. She tried to banish the thought, and focus, to be sufficiently determined, but she had a hard time doing so. Thankfully, she'd not Splinched.

However, she'd failed. Miserably.

She started following the other students out of the Great Hall and heard Ron ask Harry how he'd done. She made an uncalled for remark, then hurried away. She hadn't meant to be so rude to him, but she knew that he'd never ask her how she was, nor would he care. Following the crowd, she hurried up the marble staircase and went up two more flights of stairs, then paused in the corridor. Without really thinking about why, she rounded the corner to the staircase leading up to the Astronomy Tower and kept going, fighting back the rising panic.

Hermione didn't stop until her path was barred by the parapet of the tower. She stared out at the vast vale: she could see the black water of the lake, the Quidditch pitch and the rugged mountains... But her chest felt restricted, tears stung her eyes, her hands were sweaty on the cold, wet stone, and her heart pounded in her chest. She was shaking, completely oblivious to the rain. Since the Astronomy Tower was the tallest tower of the castle, its view was completely unimpeded, and normally she'd have attributed it all to the dizzying height, but what gripped her was her fear of failure.

She'd failed. Insufficiently determined, she chastised herself. Completely inept. A coward. Inadequately focused on my destination, completely heedless in my deliberation...totally negligent...gods! It could have been me standing there with my leg standing by itself across the room! She couldn't bear to think about it; it was too revolting for words. All she could think about was seeing her professors heal Susan's severed leg back onto her body.

She could see him in her mind. Professor Snape, his wand movements so rapid and precise, the combination of spells cast so swiftly, efficiently and confidently... He'd anticipated it...been ready to stop the bleeding and attach the leg... all in a matter of a second it'd seemed. He'd saved her life! His spells and Professor McGonagall's combining, layering effortlessly, and immediately staunching the flow of blood before any actually fell... the four of them reattaching the leg...

There hadn't been any blood? But her femoral artery had been severed! Hermione tried to recall if Susan had bled. She must have... or did it take a while for the body to bleed? No. She'd cut herself before; it happened quickly...immediately. It had all happened so quickly, sure, but... How did he know?

She heard his boot steps on the stone behind her and closed her eyes.

"Miss Granger...?"

"I couldn't do it," she admitted, absolutely ashamed at her failure.

"No one does on the first day," he said smoothly.

She turned to face him.

He stepped closer. The rain had made his hair hang lank about his head, and his frockcoat was becoming soaked. "No one is able to the first try."

"No one?" she asked, staring up at him in disbelief. "Did you...I mean...you didn't either?"

He smiled at her, unconcerned about the rain. "No. I didn't."

She smiled at him, feeing the tightness in her chest dissipate and the tension leave her body.

"Why are you up here? You hate heights," he said, coming to stand right in front of her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just...this is where I ended up," she said, not really knowing why herself. Her hands felt cold, but her heart still raced in her chest, and now she was starting to feel quite chilly. "Why are you here?"

He chuffed a laugh. "There is always one student who does," he stated. "Every year there is someone who feels like you do. Although, normally I deduct House points and send them running back to their dorm."

She looked down at his buttons as she smiled. "Are you going to make me run away?"

"I should," he said, although his tone was affable, almost light. "You're not a failure."

She looked up at him, really needing to hear this.

"Professor Twycross gives the same speech every year, the same directions. He forgets one very important aspect every time," he said, gazing at her, his eyes searching her face. "Can you determine what that might be?"

Hermione cocked her head slightly, mulling over everything Professor Twycross had said, hoping her teeth were not chattering.

"I know you were sufficiently focused on your destination, and you are the most determined witch I have ever taught, and I'm quite sure you were deliberate in your action, but you forgot one very vital aspect in accomplishing Apparition."

She stared at him. What did he mean? It was only after seeing Susan Splinch that she'd lost her nerve. But that wasn't what he meant. She tried to think about what, if anything, Professor Twycross may have forgotten to mention.

"Miss Granger, we are getting soaked," he stated, making her look up at him. "May I suggest we take this inside the castle and dry off?"

She nodded, crossing her arms about her, suddenly realizing how cold it was. Once they were inside in the corridor, Professor Snape drew his wand and dried and warmed their clothes.

Nonverbally.

She could have smacked herself. She remembered his words: focus your determination on your intended action, and say the incantation...without losing focus...then release your magic... After all the lessons on controlling her magic...and the lessons on wandless magic...she had forgotten to draw on her magic when she'd attempted to Apparate. "I forgot to use my magic. I didn't trust myself; I focused too much on my destination and determination, and being deliberate, I forgot my magical ability."

"Very good, Miss Granger," he said with a nod and a slight satisfied smile. "I'd give you House points, but as you were up on the Astronomy Tower when students are not allowed to be there, we'll call it even."

She smiled at him. His approval meant more to her anyway.

"Now, I suggest a hot bath and sleep," he intoned in his most stern voice.

"Yes, sir," she said as she nodded and smiled. "Good night, Professor, and thank you."

"Good night, Miss Granger," he replied and walked away.

Ever since their first Apparition lesson...Harry went on and on about what he'd overheard Malfoy say to Crabbe 'do as they were told and to keep a lookout' to the point of distraction. He was completely convinced that Malfoy was plotting something. Harry took the map with him everywhere, checking it between lessons and during breaks, occasionally discretely during lessons and even slipping into the boy's loo more frequently than usual. Hermione suspected that he even kept his Invisibility Cloak in his bag.

He even said that he thought Malfoy had left the school grounds to do whatever it was he suspected Malfoy of doing, but that was ludicrous. And Harry would point out Crabbe and Goyle whenever they passed the two Slytherins, or when Harry saw one or both of them loitering in the corridors. However, Hermione had to admit, Malfoy was suspiciously absent. Sometimes she passed him in the corridors or on the stairs after her swims, and occasionally between lessons, but there were a number of times when he was alone without his friends lumbering along behind him. But there were enough occasions when he'd had only one of them with him.

Also, Malfoy usually hurried by her on the occasions he was alone, often times simply grunting at her to "move" or "get out of my way," but he looked haggard, agitated or despondent, and his eyes had dark circles as if he wasn't sleeping well. Not that she really cared, but for a boy who'd been meticulously groomed for five and a half years, seeing him ill-kempt was noticeable, and the only time he called her Mudblood anymore was when either of his friends were around, if he bothered to at all.

But Hermione had other things to concern her. She was not getting any better at casting wandless shields or at deflecting objects, no matter how much she and Ginny practiced. Only when Ginny charmed the cricket ball to fly like a Bludger was she able to effetely deflect it...her flight or fight reflex, only more controlled.

And they had Apparition lessons every weekend in the Great Hall. Of course, she'd yet to actually Apparate into her wooden hoop, much to her frustration. But she was determined to learn how to Apparate and do it well. The prospect of being able to was just too exciting. She clearly remembered Professor Snape's advice on the Astronomy Tower, and really tried, but so far, she still hadn't Apparated even one meter.

She wasn't alone; no one had managed it yet either. Harry hadn't Apparated yet, Won-Won couldn't do it, and neither could Lavender. In fact no one had managed it yet, and more and more students were becoming frustrated with Professor Twycross, calling him Wilkie Twycross or Cross-Eyed Twycross, Professor Dunderhead, Professor Dog-Dung and Dung-head... any manner of rude names beginning with a 'D', which incensed Hermione. Just because someone couldn't do Apparition right away didn't mean he was a bad teacher. Apparition was difficult, dangerous and could be deadly.

Each lesson someone Splinched. Hermione watched in horror as Professor Snape and the other Heads of Houses swooped down on the individual immediately, Professor Snape's wand flicking and swishing so fast it was merely a blur, well all the Heads of House's were. Their healing charms were cast on the student so quickly that the collision and combining magic made that loud bang, the resonance of which Hermione could almost feel in her chest each time, followed by puffs of purple smoke as the student was set to rights again. How Professor Snape knew which student would be in trouble when, she didn't know, but he did, reacting so quickly, the separated body parts hardly bled at all. Most Splinchings involved limbs, occasionally smaller body parts like an ear or a fingernail. Hermione was terrified that someone could lose a head... but she'd shove that thought away and focus on her own destination, with determination and deliberation, trying to get her magic to flow at the same time...

It was utterly maddening.

Hermione counted doors as she walked down the corridor, stopping at the fifth on her right as had been indicated on the note she'd received from Professor Snape. She knocked on the classroom door, smiling when she heard him call out, "Enter."

They were in one of the larger empty classrooms, possibly so he'd have more distance in which to throw the cricket ball at her. She'd worn her jeans and a jumper, since it was Sunday, and she knew that she'd be defending herself from the hard leather ball again. He, however, was in his usual white shirt, coat and trousers and holding the cricket ball casually in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her as he took in her appearance. "I happen to know that you've been practicing with Miss Weasley," he stated.

He caught her off guard. Hermione gaped at him, wondering how he'd found out. "She and I have... We've been practicing deflection spells. I've been trying to do them wandless, and she's been trying to do them nonverbally."

"I see," he said smoothly. "And how is Miss Weasley doing on her nonverbal skills?"

"All right," Hermione admitted slowly. "She still mumbles, much like I did at first, but she's getting better."

"Why are you practicing with Miss Weasley and not Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley?" he asked, casually rolling his wand in his fingers. He sounded agitated.

He never mentioned she should be practicing wandless spells with either of her friends...well, Harry was still her friend, even if Ron was otherwise involved. "Ron is seeing Lavender," she replied, wondering why he thought practicing spells with Harry was better than doing it with Ginny. "Harry can't do nonverbal spells so I assumed he couldn't do wandless... Was I wrong?

Professor Snape's eyes searched her face dispassionately. "No. Few possess the ability to do wandless magic. Even though the same determination, concentration and mental discipline are necessary to do both wandless and nonverbal magic, most wizards become too dependent on their wands, relying on a magical conduit to focus their magic." He paused. "Wandless magic can be particularly volatile, and it can only be effectively used by powerful and disciplined wizard...or witch."

Hermione smiled at the implied compliment.

His lips pulled back into the semblance of a challenging smile as he tossed the cricket ball in the air and caught it. "So, shall we see how well you've progressed?"

"Oh, yes," she said and rolled her shoulders as she readied herself, determined to do her best. "Ready."

He laughed. "Relax, Miss Granger, stay light on your feet and concentrate. Just deflect it."

He tossed the ball at her, and she swept her hand as she released the spell, making the ball fly to the wall next to the door. He summoned the ball to him, then deflected it in her direction. Hermione acted quickly with another focused pulse of magic as she flicked her wrist.

"Stop swinging your arm," he snapped. "You're projecting your intent too much. Keep your hand gestures to a minimum."

"Right, okay," she said, gritting her teeth. Really?

The ball came flying at her from the side, and she managed to block it, making the ball land five feet away from her. It bounced about three feet before he made it sail back at her. It hit her in the hip. He tilted his head slightly as he smirked at her. She picked up the ball, intending to hand it back.

"No, either reflect it at me or repel it at me, or summon it and then deflect it at me, but don't touch it with your hands," he said firmly.

Her eyebrows rose as she took in his new rules. Magical handball without using our hands? Okay. She tossed the ball into the air and tried to deflect it, but the ball bounced on the floor with a thud, but then it shot in Professor's Snape's direction.

He flicked his wrist, and the ball turned midair, flying back at her. She barely had time think, reacting on instinct so as not to be hit with the hard ball. It sailed right back at him, which he deflected easily enough, and it came back at her. She managed to deflect it just before it hit her hand, flying toward the window.

Hermione gasped, watching as the ball hit the window and sailed back to Professor Snape. He caught it deftly. "What, you didn't think I'd forget to magically fortify the window, did you?"

"Naturally you would." She laughed at herself for her naivety. "I was just...I hadn't realized...it surprised me."

His eyebrow rose and she blushed. "I wasn't laughing at you; I was laughing at myself, for thinking that it would break the window," she explained.

He raised his chin, then leveled his gaze on her again. "Then let's try this again," he said as he tossed the ball.

Almost an hour later, Professor Snape called out, "That enough for today," bringing a halt to their exercise. She waited as he donned his teaching robes and opened the door for her. He really is a gentleman at times, she thought as they walked down the corridor, talking about her Potions lessons with Professor Slughorn. She was surprised when he turned and casually walked up the stairs with her. Yes, he really could be quite the gentleman when he wanted to be.

He had to go to give Dumbledore his potion. Severus intended to walk with her up to her dorm. He knew that she'd be depleted and wanted to make sure she got back all right. That was his excuse, if he was honest with himself. That and the entrance to the Headmaster's tower was on the same floor. He was surprised when Hermione stopped on the fifth floor.

She looked up at him. "I thought I'd go swim for a bit."

"Not really advisable, Miss Granger," he said, amazed that she was so naïve about the danger. "The prefect pool is really deep, and you have been using a lot of your magical reserve this evening."

"I feel fine," she replied, her large doe like eyes gazing up at him questioningly.

He inhaled to fortify himself. "But if you exercise now, you'll tire easily, and I don't want you to exhaust yourself in the water."

"I'm not that tired, really. I'm not even sore. I have gone swimming after our lessons before, and even when I was aching all over, I managed to stay afloat and not drown. I'll be fine. Really."

The girl was going to try it anyway; he could see it in her eyes. Damn. He'd have to hurry back and make sure that she was all right. "We should change your password," he suggested.

"How about black scat-rat...we saw one our first hike together, remember?" she asked.

Reflexively, a disparaging "Uh, yeah," noise escaped his throat. Of course he remembered.

"Or ice castle..."

"Snow castle, it is then," he said and turned to face the door. He remembered her reaction to the large, cat-headed squirrel...a magical crossbreed between a kneazle and a red squirrel. He'd never been that fond of them though, ever since one of them scratched his arm with its retractable claws. He still had a scar on his wrist from the encounter.

Knowing he couldn't linger, Severus turned and strode up to the Headmaster's tower. The old man accepted his potion after the usual dialogue of pleasantries on the old man's part and the inane offer of the ever-present lemon drops. Severus couldn't understand why he kept foisting the nauseating sweets, considering he'd never, ever, accepted one.

Dilys asked how the new formulation was working, evolving into a brief discussion of the new ingredients they'd worked out together as Dumbledore casually drank his potion. Severus checked the progression of the curse on the Headmaster's arm.

"So far, you are lucky; the progression appears to be slowing down again. It might be going into remission," Severus replied, pushing the sleeve further up to examining the old man's arm closely. "The tendrils haven't progressed as far as I'd predicted, but I believe that the elbow is beyond repair at this point."

"That's good news, although my elbow gets so stiff it will not bend," Dumbledore said with a sad sigh.

"See if Fawkes will shed some more tears," Severus suggested, wondering where the bird had gone. The familiar's perch stood empty next to the open window.

"I shall ask him when he returns," the Headmaster replied. "How is Master Malfoy progressing?"

"I have no idea if he's progressing. Thankfully, there haven't been any new attempts made since that infestation of dimarwolaeth fungus on your chair that I'm aware of."

"The fungus under my chair was a clever attempt, if not horribly dangerous, but it was never connected to the boy," Dumbledore replied.

"Who else would have put the dimarwolaeth fungus under your seat in the Great Hall?" Severus sneered angrily. "It was another attempt on your life."

"No, no, it could have been anyone, my boy. The house-elves caught it and disinfected the Hall, and they searched the dorms. There wasn't any trace of the fungus or the spores in any of the student's things or their rooms," Dumbledore said. "How it got there is still unknown. But I do not believe that he's given up on his task of killing me."

Severus was not convinced, but he couldn't prove Draco had a hand in the infestation. The house-elves cleaned the Great Hall every night after diner...as they did after every meal. If they hadn't caught the infection that evening, the spores of the magical fungus would have been released with the rise of the full moon, becoming deadly to everyone within twenty feet of the Headmaster's chair at breakfast.

Dumbledore steepled his hands as he smiled at Severus. "The antidote for the spores was administered to every student and every familiar, and Poppy tells me no one came to her with symptoms."

Severus knew that the antidote had been added to the pumpkin juice, so as not to raise concerns of the students, and the house-elves had laced treats for all the familiars that same morning. They had also given all the cats in the castle baths in case one of them had come in contact with the fungus. "So you're dismissing it?" Severus asked incredulously.

"Since there is no definitive proof of the culprit, or any indication on how it got into the Great Hall at all, I'm dismissing it," Dumbledore replied. "Good night, Severus."

Severus stood, accepting the dismissal. "Good night, Headmaster," he intoned politely and left the office, funning at the old man's intransigence.

He paused by Altheda's portrait and nodded to the likeness of the lady and her friend, Rosalba. "Ladies," he said. "How are things in the castle this evening?"

"I have little to report," Rosalba answered with a smile. She'd always been friendly with Severus, even when he'd been a student. On more occasions than he could count, she'd given him warnings about the comings, and more importantly, the goings of Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. The woman abhorred bullies. "Potter and his friend are in the dorm, but I've yet to see the young lady."

Altheda leaned forward as if to lean out of her frame and share a confidence with him. Severus moved closer to the portrait, and the pallid-faced witch glanced across the corridor and back at him. "She's still in the bath, Severus," she said softly. "It's been such a long time, and she looked so worn-out when you parted ways... I...do you think...you don't think she, um..."

"We could try to find one of the ghosts," Rosalba suggested. "Possibly the Grey Lady; she'd be in the library at this hour."

"No, no, I'll handle this," Severus said, beginning to be concerned. It was late, and he'd warned Hermione to skip her swim. He checked his watch; it had been a good half-hour already.

He began to get nervous as he walked across the corridor and entered the pool. He scanned the room, seeing Hermione floating in the water in a tiny coral bikini. She was face up, thankfully, not face down as one expected a drowned person to be. Her eyes, however, were closed, her arms relaxed, angled gracefully from her body. For a moment he panicked. Is she ... dead...? Her hair fanned out in the water, a brown aura about her head, and her face, breasts, thighs and feet peaked above the surface of the water, making her look like a version of Ophelia by Millais, only mostly naked...

"Miss Granger," he called out.

She didn't respond. She didn't move. The taps were still running, so he raised his voice in order to be heard over the crashing noise of the scented water hitting the bath, "Miss Granger."

The girl in the water remained as she was. He panicked; floating as she was, he couldn't tell if there was a rise to her chest. The immortal words of Queen Gertrude to Laertes came unwelcome to his thoughts: As one incapable of her own distress, or like a creature native and indued, unto that element: but long it could not be till that her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay to muddy death.

He kicked off his shoes as he slid his fingers down his buttons with the incantation to magically make all of them release. He wrenched his coat and shirt off, tossed them carelessly aside, and dove into the water, coming up under her. Hermione began flailing, coughing and choking as he lifted her up in his arms. Her elbow hit him in the nose, and he felt the cartilage snap, a sharp excruciating pain, but he tighten his grip on her as she screeched out in alarm, "What the fuck," at the same time as he demanded, "Will you calm yourself, woman!"

"What are you doing?" she asked as he snapped, "You swore at me!"

"You're naked!" she said, her voice shrill and strangled.

He immediately let her go and stepped back, and Hermione sank underwater, coming up gasping for air. She was leaning back to dunk her head under the water so as to get her hair out of her eyes, then trod water, staring at him with an extraordinary range of emotions crossing her face. Irritation, confusion, and surprise eventually gave way to concern as she paddled towards him.

"You're bleeding!" she exclaimed, moving toward him.

Severus instinctively backed up farther as she reached out her hand to touch his face. "You elbowed me."

"Oh my gods, I'm sorry," she said as she advanced upon him again. "You startled me."

"I thought...what are you doing in the pool? I told you you'd used too much of your magical reserve this evening. You should not have stayed in the water this long," he jabbered, thoroughly disconcerted by the situation and his own stupid reaction to it.

"I was floating...it's quite relaxing," she countered calmly, her eyebrows caught together in a frown as she continued to look at him.

She was standing in front of him now, or possibly balanced on her toes, because she was almost, but not quite, equal to his height. "I thought...you could have exhausted yourself...I thought you'd drowned," he stammered as she summoned a towel. The rush from his adrenaline was starting to fade, and his nose was throbbing dully with an insistent pain. He was a fool. He had to get out. She was now standing so close he could feel the heat from her body... her mostly naked body.

"Here, let me," she said as she reached up with a corner of the towel. He jerked his head back. "Severus, at least let me fix your nose."

"It's been broken before," he stated, standing ramrod still as she gently dabbed at his face. "I can fix it myself..."

"You're going to have a nasty bruise," she said as she examined him.

His mind was racing, his thoughts a complete incoherent jumble; this was so wrong...and yet he didn't want to move and end the moment. She had been in his arms, her skin pressed to his. He'd held her; her lithe body struggling to be released, squirming against his... No, he couldn't...wouldn't...he must get out of here. This was inappropriate in every aspect. He should have never come in here.

"We should get out," she said, lowering the towel. It was now discolored red from his blood. "My wand, I...it's over there with my clothes."

Her clothes? His clothes! Oh, fucking Merlin! "Yes," he said as she moved around him, walking through the water for the side of the pool. He watched her clamber out, getting an eyelevel view of her bikini clad rear and the long, wet length of her legs. Merlin, help me!

"Are you getting out?" she asked.

He took a mental stock of himself. Yes, he'd reacted...damn it...as any male would in his position. For a second he dithered, but then he hoisted himself out of the water as she walked casually to the benches. He quickly summoned his shirt and coat and turned his back as he donned the garments, willing his body to relax. The thought of her skin, warm, smooth and slick against his, the heat of the contact a contrast to the cool water. Water that wasn't really that cool...moderately warm, tepid... He inhaled. He had to think of something else. The bath oil: it smells of lavender, chamomile, ginger, basil and jasmine aromatic scents that generally soothed fatigue and stress. Good choices...

"Professor?" Hermione asked.

The title grated on his nerves; she'd used his name in the pool, now they were back to formalities. As it should be, he sternly reminded himself. "Yes, Miss Granger," he said and slowly turned around. With his frockcoat properly buttoned, she couldn't see his discomfort.

"Please sit down," she asked, holding the same towel, this time with the other end in her hand, the cleaner side. "Let me fix this."

"No need." He pulled his wand out and quickly fixed his nose as best as he could without the aid of a mirror. The pain flashed through him for a second, and he welcomed the primitive way it stifled his unwanted emotional discomfort.

Her eyes widened at the sound of the cartridge reforming. She silently handed him the towel. He took it from her stiffly and wiped his face clean, an action he'd had plenty of practice doing.

She nodded when he looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said softly. Her concern was real. Not the 'I struck a teacher' type...a real concern for him. It was almost touching, but he shoved the feeling such sentiment evoked aside. It would not do to dwell on what was unobtainable. Men always want what they cannot have, he'd heard Bellatrix coo when he'd been young. Avery had often said the same thing; he'd meant Lily, of course. He stared at the witch before him. "Get dressed," he said, more sharply than he'd intended.

He turned his head slightly as she pulled on her clothes, refusing to watch her. When the activity stopped in his peripheral vision, he turned to look in her direction. In her jeans and a jumper she looked like a young woman, not the schoolgirl he'd taught for five and a half years. But now things are different, his treacherous subconscious reminded him, legally she's a young woman, an adult in our world.... He stopped that train of thought ruthlessly. She was still his student. "We should go," he finally said.

She nodded as if in regret. "I'm really sorry that I have hurt you," she apologized yet again.

"Miss Granger, I startled you. Let us forget this matter and not speak of it again," he suggested, leading the way to the door. Once outside, he noticed that both Altheda and Rosalba had left Altheda's frame for another painting in the castle.

He turned to look at her again, noting the slight flush to her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes in the flickering light from the sconces on the walls. She often looked upon him in such a manner.

"Will you be all right walking to your dorm?" he asked, hoping that she would say, "Yes." He badly needed get away to recover his equilibrium.

She smiled warmly at him. "Yes, I'll be fine, thank you."

"Very well," he said, hiding his relief with a sharp nod. "Then I shall wish you a good night."

"Good night, sir," she replied and turned to leave.

He watched her go. If all went as Dumbledore planned, if the events fell into place within the time frame he expected them to, she would come to hate him in merely a few months time. He sighed heavily. Damn you, Dumbledore, damn you to hell.

For Ron's birthday, Hermione had sent him some Chocolate Frogs; even though she disliked seeing him with Lavender, she had been friends with him for so long and hated that their relationship was strained. Besides, first crushes rarely lasted forever, and eventually they'd tire of each other, or so she told herself.

She was sorry that the Hogsmeade weekend had been cancelled, but given that Katie was still in St. Mungo's and the Daily Prophet occasionally reported people missing or odd unexplained occurrences happening, maybe it was for the best. She'd been at breakfast when Harry was sulkily escorted down to breakfast by Professor McGonagall and told to eat something.

He related everything to Hermione and Ginny grimly, apparently feeling that it was entirely his fault even though his quick thinking of the bezoar had saved Ron's life. In that instant, Hermione forgave Harry for having used a bezoar to cheat at Potions.

Hermione paced outside the door to the hospital wing, while Fred and George consoled Ginny, telling her that there wasn't anything they'd managed to do to themselves that Madam Pomfrey hadn't sorted out in a jiffy.

"And you know what clever ideas we've come up with," Fred said as Harry, who was sitting against the wall next to Fred, picked at something on his trouser leg.

"Not that all of them were successful, but with each set back we learned a lot," George stated.

"Which only opened up the possibilities for other options," Fred continued.

"Some much more successful and profitable than others," George pointed out as Hermione regarded him quizzically.

He was right; those two had done some rather reckless and dangerous experimenting while in school. Professor Snape had even commented on it and that he'd had to create potions and antidotes to heal them.

"Right," Fred stated with a half-hearted grin. "So, little Ronniekins will be all right, Ginny."

"Right as this blasted rain," George grumbled, then quickly forced a huge grin for Ginny's sake.

Hermione checked her watch. It was nearing time for Hermione and Harry to go to the Great Hall. She looked at Harry, sitting dejectedly next to Fred, running his hand through his messy hair, even messier than the normal mess. She looked at the door. Could she be deliberately determined on a destination knowing that her friend...well, someone she'd cared a great deal about for five and a half years lay dying in the hospital?

Only, Hermione didn't really believe Ron was dying, but he was recovering from being poisoned, which was close enough. She turned her gaze away from the door. "Harry, I'm going to stay here with Ginny and the twins," she said, watching him.

Harry looked up and nodded. "Yeah, until we know about Ron, all right?"

"Yes, that's what I meant," Hermione agreed and turned to smile at Ginny. "Until we know he's fine."

Children Floo To Safety Are Lost

Last night in Barnsley, Yorkshire south of the city, Gladwyn Turbot and his family in Bungie Briar were found dead in their lounge apparently attempting to Floo out of the house at the time of the raid. No word yet on their two youngest children, Maggie and Julian. The Floo authorities suspect that the parents sent their children through first, but to where is still unknown. If anyone has word on the children or if you've had two children suddenly appear in your living room unannounced, please contact Jilly O'Meara at the Floo Regulation Office or Child Care Services at St. Mungo's.

Severus scoffed at the article in the Daily Prophet. As if that would be a good plan. Two members of the Dark Lord's followers were now working in the Floo Regulation office; notifying this Jilly O'Meara would only ensure the completion of the raid...the elimination of the two children.

He folded the paper and tossed it in the fire. The edges of the paper curled as it burned, framing the other front page headline: Apparition Professor Wilkie Tywcross Instructing Apparition at Hogwarts. The article went on to read that the Ministry professor thought that the young people at Hogwarts would all do well on their Apparition tests at the end of April even though none of the students had managed to learn how to Apparate as of yet.

Not if they don't bloody well attend their lessons, Severus grumbled.

After all the attention he'd bestowed on her to ensure she'd do well in the endeavor, after pointing out the one factor the Ministry professor failed to mention every year in his speech on how to Apparate, the girl had skived off her lesson to sit outside the hospital door and console Harry bloody Potter.

The thought sickened him almost as much as seeing her sitting on the bedside of the witless sidekick, holding his bloody hand.

In his potion induced delirium, Mr. Weasely had called out Hermione's name, and she'd gushed at the boy, sitting at his bedside, fawning over the boy, while his self-proclaimed girlfriend wailed in lament and ran from the room. Teenagers and their hormonal outbursts had always annoyed him, but to see Miss Granger, smiling at Mr. Weasley as if she'd won his affections... it appalled him.

The girl was far superior to the boy in every way. He knew that she was too kind, too loyal a friend to have left the side of Miss Weasley and her two brothers, Fred and George, in their time of grief, but the boy would be fine in a few days. The poison was hardly a Level two restricted toxicity poison; the antidote he'd created for Mr. Weasley was a simple, fifty-seven ingredient draught, not that he received any gratitude from the boy's family or friends for the quick work he'd managed in creating it. No, Potter got all the credit, considering most of the immediate effects of the poison had been nullified with a bezoar, for an augury's wail.

And now Hermione was sitting at the dunderhead's bedside, lavishing her attention on a boy who hardly deserved her, and once he was back to his usual half-witted senses, he'd hurt her with his insensitivity and selfishness. Hermione deserved a better wizard than an unmotivated, barely average student who never applied himself to anything except wizard's chess and how to toss a Quaffle.

He was a perfect match for the equally academically unmotivated, self-absorbed, boy-chaser, Miss Brown.

Severus picked up his glass of Firewhisky and stared into the warm amber brown liquid. It was the same color as Hermione's eyes. He took a long sip.

Ever since that bothersome night in the prefect pool, he'd been having dreams of the girl, although in his dreams the scenario rarely imitated the actual events that had occurred. He knew that his temper was shorter due to the lack of sleep, and the House points he'd deducted this last week alone had bested his own record. The other professors tried to compensate for the lost points: Minerva went as far as awarding points if her first-year students had tied their shoes properly, Filius awarded points for greeting him properly, and Pomona awarded points if her students working on Leshypuffs, covered their mouths when they sneezed.

But Severus couldn't shake the memory of how Hermione had felt in his arms. Or the tender way she'd tried to clean his face. Or the look of anguish when she'd heard his cartilage realign, the slight flush that warmed her cheeks when he stood close to her, the brightness of her eyes when she was happy or the way she would smile warmly at him...

In his mind, she'd gazed up at him, longingly, desirous. Her mouth parted invitingly, and her tongue had brushed her lower lip tantalizingly. In his mind, she'd kissed him, breaking his resolve until they'd melded together in the water, both needing what the other could give, taking from each other what was so willingly offered.

He took another swallow of the fiery liquid. He was used to the burn as it slid down his throat. He had started to take ice cold showers to dispel the images in his mind, but the cold water had begun to make his sensitive skin itch, so he'd had to change his soap from his usual soap to one with a moisturizing cream base.

He didn't like the way it left his skin feeling... well, not exactly oily but different.

The clock on his mantelpiece chimed the hour. If he didn't drink himself into a stupor, he'd have the dreams again, but tomorrow he had two lessons with Gryffindors and Slytherins and he had to be on his toes.

Severus set the glass down. He'd make a round of the castle, walking each corridor of each floor and through each wing. If that didn't help, he'd run up the stairs until he reached the top of the Astronomy Tower. One way or another, he'd have a peaceful night, by Merlin, or he'd drug himself on the same sleeping potion he'd made for Weasley.

~ T. B. .C. ~