...And When They Were Down, They Were Down...

Severus Snape sat by the stream at the bottom of the meadow. He had been thinking about his reactions -- okay, overreactions -- to Hermione earlier. He was coming to the conclusion that she was the one witch he didn't want to scare off, but he'd probably already blown that.

Since her return to Hogwarts Severus had been noticing her and the way she had matured. She made a more than tolerable companion at mealtimes, she had spotted the dry if acerbic humour in his comments, she had almost always been respectful towards him, and even the few times he had caught her teasing him it had been in a gentle, good natured way he secretly enjoyed. What could he do to regain her trust?

Regardless of the way his skirts belled out over him, Severus lay back across the bank above the stream and drifted off to sleep. Perhaps after a nap his headache would ease, and he'd figure out a way to get them out of this situation. He could worry about his relationship with Miss Granger later.

Over on the other side of the meadow, where the woods thinned out, Hermione stepped into the sunshine. A noise further down made her pause, and she was treated to the sight of a rather ursine looking Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode chasing Draco Malfoy out of the woods. Goyle was waving a broken chair leg over his head while Millicent carried an empty bowl. Hermione's laughter pealed across the meadow as they ran out of sight.

Severus sat up quickly, shaking his head. He'd dreamed of Hermione, heard her light laughter as he'd held her in his arms and twirled her round, his heart bursting with the knowledge that she was happy to be with him. Looking around however proved that he was, as usual, alone.

Further upstream and hidden by a clump of bushes, Hermione sat and watched the water bubble over the rocks on the shallow bed. She wondered if Severus had calmed down yet. She missed him and knew he would be amused by the tale of the three 'bears' chasing Draco Goldilocks. Perhaps he would have been even more amused to have experienced it with her? Hermione's mind drifted with the stream and she found herself wondering how much of her other adventure she would have liked to share with Severus. She shivered as she remembered the touch of the Wolf, but when she replayed it in her mind the fingers that ran over her skin were longer and the eyes that held her captive were dark and sensual.

Where had that come from? Hermione smirked at the idea of Severus Snape turning some of the passion he displayed in his anger into seduction, especially on her. She'd be lucky if he went as far as tolerating her after her performance earlier. A sense of loss settled on the witch. When had she developed this need for the dark brooding man to be part of her life? More importantly, why did she yearn to be part of his, no matter in how small a capacity?

Standing, Hermione decided to try looking for Severus over the other side of the meadow. She tried to jump over the stream but slipped on the muddy bank opposite, falling back into the water. Spluttering and shaking the water from her hair Hermione dragged herself back up the bank. She was soaked to the skin. Looking around she smiled ruefully. Might as well strip and lay out her clothes to dry in the warm sun, her bra and briefs were probably more substantial than the bikini she'd worn to beaches she'd visited last year. With this thought in mind, Hermione lay back on the grass to enjoy the sun.