2

I didn't notice it at first. The water was boiling around me long before I knew what was happening. That is my only defense, poor though it is.

Miss Granger had unofficially moved in by the end of her first week's stay. By the end of the second week, she and Harry had made it official. She was now our flatmate. She actually had more rights than I did because she was paying for the privilege of staying there whilst I was still a prisoner, not that either of them treated me as such, of course. That wouldn't coordinate with their garish cloak of Gryffindor pride.

"Severus?" Hermione called out from kitchen. He sighed as he put his book down. She seemed to have an infuriating knack of interrupting just when the story was getting interesting. He made his way to the kitchen as slowly as possible, knowing it would annoy her.

"You is calling, Miss?" Snape said mockingly.

She shot him an irritated look, and he smirked.

"I was wondering if you would get the sherry down for me. I need to keep stirring this, and I'm just slightly too short to reach it from here."

"I would have thought you would know better than to start a recipe without having all the ingredients ready," Snape sneered as he edged in behind her so as to reach into the cabinet over the stove, cursing the cramped space for the umpteenth time. It really was a pitiful space. If it weren't a Muggle flat, he would have sworn it was designed for house-elves.

She ignored his taunt with a smile and just kept stirring, holding out the other hand expectantly.

As he leaned forward just that little bit more to reach the elusive bottle, his chest brushed against Hermione's hair, and he suddenly became very aware of her body, which was only inches from his own. The rush of desire that came with that awareness was completely unexpected, and he nearly reeled from it.

Quickly gathering his senses, he grabbed the bottle, gave it to Hermione and then made a hasty retreat.

Back in the front room, he collapsed into his chair, breathing heavily. Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to deny what had just happened, but it was impossible. There wasn't a need to figure out what had happened, as that was obvious; he lusted after Hermione Granger. His son's best friend. A woman only slightly older than his son. Whom he'd taught and could still remember as an obnoxious first-year, waving her hand and trying to prove that she was worthy.

Feeling like a pedophile, he swallowed and tried to calm himself down. It wasn't a disaster. He hadn't acted on his desires, and it was unlikely that she knew.

"Are you all right, Severus?" a soft voice said by his shoulder. He nearly jumped, but managed to calmly look over at Hermione's worried face. She was kneeling by the arm of his chair. "You rushed out of there so suddenly. And silently."

He swallowed again, realizing that it was more than lust. Seeing her looking at him with such concern made something in his chest clench; it made him want to kiss her.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked, still looking worried. She leaned forward and reached out as if to touch him, but he flinched. She stopped short with an embarrassed blush. "You look a bit flushed. I know Harry's been fighting a cold... Maybe you should take some Pepperup just in case?"

Just what I need, Severus thought facetiously, more steam.

"I am fine, Miss Granger! Don't you have something on the stove that needs minding?"

She'd rocked back on her heels looking displeased but thoughtful. "Back to formalities are we, Professor?" She gave him a long, shrewd look but got up at the end of it and answered rather softly, "Yes, I expect the potion does need me right now." She then turned and walked off to the kitchen without a backward glance, which was fortunate for Severus, as he broke out into a sweat at her words.

Groaning very softly, he shifted in his seat to get a little more comfortable before putting his head in his hands.

She knew.

I didn't take the revelation well. In the end, I remained in bed for the next week, coming out only for meals and to use the loo. Unfortunately, Hermione (I was unable to think of her as Miss Granger anymore, much to my consternation) must have told Harry something of how I acted that fateful afternoon, and so by the end of the week, they dismissed my assurances that everything was fine and called for help.

"Knock, knock."

Snape looked over at the door, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Poppy?" he nearly whimpered.

She smiled heartily and entered the room fully, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

"Harry and Miss Granger are very concerned, Severus. They think you're being stoic and refusing to admit to being ill." She conjured a chair by the bed and sat down, giving Severus a once-over before offering him an exasperated look. "You don't look ill to me, so what are you sulking over this time?"

He spluttered indignantly. "How dare you come..."

"Severus," she said sharply, cutting him off and giving him a quelling look over her glasses, "I have known you for more than thirty years. I know a sulk when I see one. So what is it this time?"

Snape nearly pouted, and certainly looked petulant, as he crossed his arms and looked away from the mediwitch.

"I've become mentally unbalanced," he finally muttered when he saw signs that Poppy was about to lose patience. "I've obviously been cooped up in this wretched place for too long, and I've gone mad. I see no reason to submit my son and Hermione to my madness, nor put up with their maddening company either."

Poppy leaned back in her chair and smiled.

"Hermione, is it?"

Snape looked at Poppy coldly, although a shiver of fear went down his back. "She has been our flatmate now for quite some time."

Poppy's smile got larger. "A little defensive, are we?"

Snape's cold look turned into an outright glare. "I don't know what you mean."

She laughed. "Of course you do, Sevvie. So why don't you just tell her you fancy her?"

He hoped he wasn't goggling too obviously, though her chuckle wasn't reassuring. "She is my son's best friend! She is almost half my age! She is a ruddy Gryffindor, Poppy!"

Poppy was now laughing outright, but when she finally calmed down, she looked at him with honest sympathy.

"You know as well as I do that the heart doesn't take age or House, or even magical ability, into account. So the only matter left is Harry. Do you think he will mind?"

Snape snorted and muttered with bad humor, "What's not to mind? He loves her." Poppy's eyebrows went up to her hairline, and her mouth puckered into an 'o' of comprehension. Realizing what she inferred, Snape hastily added, "As a friend. I haven't seen any indication that they are or ever have been romantically involved. They act more like siblings than anything, and that makes it feel even worse than simple pedophilia, as I should feel more fatherly toward her, not..." Snape suddenly deflated, realizing just how deep in it he was. "Not this way."

Poppy was trying not to laugh. "Severus, Severus, Severus..." she said in a tone that would have been exasperated if it hadn't held so much humor. "First, you aren't a pedophile, unless of course, you've felt this way about her since she was in school." She looked at him sharply for the instant it took before he showed the proper disgust that idea raised.

"Second, you aren't her father. You aren't related in any way but by secondhand emotion, and that does not incest make. And third, you are worrying yourself over nothing. She might not be interested at all."

Snape shot Poppy a look that clearly indicated he did not appreciate that thought.

"Yes, and that would be so good. After all, if I tell her I fancy her and she says, 'Ew, gross,' then I have more or less made it impossible to continue our cohabitation comfortably, and since I cannot move... No, that's not a worry at all."

Poppy abandoned the chair to sit on the bed next to Snape. Placing an arm over his shoulder, she said in as comforting a voice as possible, "She is concerned, Severus. She obviously cares about you on some level, and it might even be in the same vein as your feelings. Withdrawing as you have won't do any of you any good for any amount of time."

Snape looked unconvinced.

With an exasperated sigh, Poppy added, "Let me put it this way, Severus: Whether you tell Hermione or not is your business, but either you rejoin the society of your house-mates or Harry – and possibly even Hermione herself – will force the issue. After all, being Gryffindors, they probably lack our subtlety."

Snape shuddered at the possible outcomes of such a confrontation and reluctantly gave in.

"Fine, but not one word from you," he said, glaring and pointing at Poppy.

She let out a long held chuckle. "Wouldn't dream of it, my boy."

Snape grumbled incoherently, though "bloody" and "Dumbledore" were among some of the words he used.

Although I may have been forced into rejoining society, as it were, I chose not to tell Hermione of my newly discovered ardor. It didn't seem like the most prudent thing to do, especially when there was nearly six months left on her lease, and a year on my sentence.

I tried to go back to how I had treated her before. I thought I had succeeded until Harry confronted me one day several months later.

"So, Severus," Harry said in a deceptively casual tone. "I was wondering something."

Snape looked up from his book to find Harry watching him warily.

Sighing, Snape snapped, "Well?"

Harry's expression darkened at Snape's tone. "What are your intentions?"

Snape looked at Harry quizzically. "Intentions?"

"With Hermione."

Snape's stomach dropped to his feet very suddenly, leaving him feeling slightly nauseated.

"What do you mean?"

Harry sat down with an annoyed expression. "I've seen the way you look at her, and the way you two skirt around each other. Don't tell me there's nothing going on."

Snape almost chuckled. Hermione had been avoiding him as well? "I'm afraid that is exactly what I'll tell you."

Harry's gaze hardened a little more, and Snape could see he was creeping up on the limit of his patience.

"I won't have you hurting her."

This time, Snape did laugh out loud, though he kept it brief when he saw Harry's look turn thunderous. "Harry, I'm not in a position to hurt her, and I doubt I ever will be."

Harry calmed down fractionally, but he was still in a dangerous mood. They sat there in a silence which Snape refused to break for a few minutes. Finally Harry said, "Why do you watch her?"

Smirking, Snape responded in as sarcastic a tone as possible, "Haven't you figured it out, Harry? I'm desperately in love with her." He snorted dismissively and picked up his book. "I don't have many activities to amuse myself with, as you well know, so I'm taking advantage of having a new person to observe." Looking up again, he saw Harry was still suspicious. "I promise you, Harry, that your friend has nothing to fear from me other than the occasional acerbic insights which you've learned to love over time," Snape joked.

Harry didn't laugh, though.

"You aren't watching her in private, are you?"

Snape started, feeling as if the boy had punched him. "Of course not! What do you think I am?"

Harry relaxed fractionally and shrugged. "A former Death Eater."

Snape stood up suddenly, his jaw clenched in anger, although it was mostly at himself for allowing Harry's words to hurt. For thinking Harry's opinion of him had changed.

"Former is the key word, there, boy."

Snape made to stalk off, but Harry's next words stopped him cold. "Do you love her?" His tone was incredulous, which didn't help soothe Snape's nerves.

He didn't turn to face Harry, but stood stonily for a second too long before admitting, "I don't know." He didn't look back to see Harry's eyebrow rise in amazement, or see Harry's anger fade to thoughtfulness.