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Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130141 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 35
- 36
- 37
Hermione thrashed slightly in her sleep when she felt something brushing against her face. She made a snuffling noise once before batting away whatever was touching her nose. The tickling sensation stopped, but then something much firmer traced over the curve of her cheek. That fleeting touch was enough to make her eyelids flutter open.

Met with the sight of empty air at the left side of her bed, Hermione found that through her somewhat incoherent state, she was stung with a sense of disappointment. And she was agitated. And that agitation was enough to prevent her from falling right back to sleep.

She didn't know what time it was, but obviously it was late. The screens were still up around her bed, although if they had been taken away it wouldn't have mattered. The hospital wing had only had one student that day, which had been a younger girl from Slytherin who visited the ward, complaining of severe menstrual cramps. Pomfrey had settled the girl in a bed on the opposite side of the room, settling her with a hot water bottle and a potion to ease her discomfort. The young witch only stayed a few hours, falling asleep while the potion and hot water worked its magic. Hermione only noticed this because the room had been quiet enough for her to overhear everything. The girl had been polite when speaking to Madam Pomfrey, saying 'please' and 'thank you', something that would have at one time shocked Hermione, yet she currently knew better. However, if she listened to some of her classmates, they would have her believe that everyone in Slytherin was always rude and tactless, which she knew was not the case as displayed by that student. Besides, plenty of her own housemates had shown their arses, not to mention McLaggen who was consistently in dire need of a serious attitude adjustment.

It would have been nice if the Head of Slytherin showed face, Hermione had told herself earlier. The last she had seen of Snape was two days ago, but even those previous occurrences lingered as fuzzy memories. Hermione knew the professor had other things to attend to, that coming to visit her was hardly on his list of priorities. She hadn't even been aware that Malfoy was in the hospital wing until she heard him fussing at Madam Pomfrey yesterday morning, only to hear her telling him an hour later that he could return to his dormitory. With Malfoy gone, Hermione knew that she did not have a chance of seeing Snape; what other reason would he have for visiting the ward?

A sudden familiar sounding throaty growl made Hermione turn her head, bringing her attention to the right side of her bed.

"Crookshanks?" she murmured in a croaky voice when she saw the unmistakable shape of her half-kneazle perched atop her bedside table. "How did you get in here? The doors are shut."

"How else does your familiar get his way?" a deep voice cut through the darkness. "Like always, he whinged and cried and was set on clawing up my door until he was given what he wanted."

Hermione was so shocked to hear Snape's voice that she immediately shot up in bed, instantly regretting the swift moment.

"You're here!" she exclaimed happily through a hiss of pain.

Snape was indeed sitting to her right, stiffly perched on one of the chairs used for visitors. Hermione hadn't any idea why the chair was set next to her in the first place, considering the only person to grace her with their presence was the school matron.

"I am," Snape replied, speculatively looking her over.

Hermione's ebullience at the sight of him was somewhat shocking yet pleasing. It was nice for a change to have someone happy to see him—a person, rather. Crookshanks, in his own fickle way, always seemed pleased to see the professor, if the cat rubbing up against his legs and leaving a trail of ginger fur was any indication. But then again, you never bit the hand that fed you and as far as Snape was concerned, the cat could have been using him as means to get a full belly and a warm place to sleep once he was done eating.

Snape had been sitting at Hermione's bedside for quite some time. Prior to that, he spent his evening prowling through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts. Ever since the fight between Potter and Malfoy, professors had been more vigilant about making sure that students were in their dormitories after hours. With only his errant thoughts for company and his black boots rapidly eating up the length of the flagstones and woven tapestries covering the floors, Snape had finally forced himself to return to his room. He'd kept thinking of Hermione lying alone in a hospital bed, yet it hadn't been enough to make him actually take a walk up to the hospital wing. However, the decision had been made for him when not five minutes after settling down in his study, an insistent scratching was heard at his door.

Crookshanks definitely possessed the temerity of his mistress, who refused to relent whenever she wanted her way, and kept digging his claws into the wood. The cat could have scratched a hole into the damn thing and Snape wouldn't have cared, but the sound was irksome. It had soon become evident that the feline was not going to leave until Snape showed his pallid face. The professor hadn't even bothered with wondering how the animal managed to find him, since the wretched thing seemed to be half-cat, half-kneazle, and entirely sleuthhound.

Swearing as he wrenched open the door and soundly cursed at the animal whom tottered in, bushy tail in the air and in rare form. Crookshanks wasted no time in making his agitation known; he hadn't wanted food, he didn't want to be held or even have that favourite patch behind his ears scratched. He prostrated himself at Snape's boot-covered feet, mewling and yowling in a throaty sound akin to nails on a chalkboard until the wizard lost his temper and went back to his roots, using all manner of curse words that would make even the worse degenerates blush. Snape resorted to brandishing his wand—even though he really wasn't going to use it—when the yowling began making his head throb. Only when he snatched the annoying ball of orange fluff up into one arm and stormed out of his room did the animal fall silent.

"Amazing. You someone always manage to find me, yet you're unable to walk up a few flights of steps to see your own witch," Snape growled resentfully as he stalked throughout the darkened castle with the animal haphazardly tucked into his side.

Crookshanks had bounded out of Snape's arm soon as they were inside of the hospital wing, immediately sensing which bed Hermione lie in and scampering off in her direction. Snape fully planned on leaving the animal on his own and lingered by the double doors to the wing when the half-kneazle ran back over and sat on his feet, as if he was privy to the wizard's plans of making a hasty escape.

No, you don't, Crookshanks' smashed face seemed to silently communicate from the dark floor as he stared up at Snape. You aren't going anywhere, not until you see her.

"Sodding cat," Snape swore between clenched teeth as he jerked his leg to walk forward. The cat was heavier than he thought but Hermione would kill him if he trod over one inch of his little furry body. it still didn't check his temptation of kicking one foot out to make the cat move that flared momentarily. "Ordered about for most of my natural life by a dotty wizard and a megalomaniac, now I have a creature of an entirely different species making decisions for me."

Satisfied that the professor was following his unspoken directions, Crookshanks finally moved off Snape's feet and began walking back to Hermione's bed, only pausing midway to look back to make sure that he was being followed.

"Go on, you little half-breed miscreant!" Snape hissed when he saw the cat balking at him, as much as a cat could balk. "I'm right here, damnit; I'm not leaving yet."

Apparently Crookshanks believed him, for he continued on and slunk behind the screens surrounding Hermione's bed. When Snape skulked around the screens he found the orange cat sitting placidly next to a sleeping Hermione, soon rising to walk across the top of her pillow and swish his bushy tail in her face.

Hermione had been curled on her side with her back facing Snape. Her face was obscured in the shadows of the darkened area, her messy unfettered contributing to the cause as well. Just able to make the outline of her body beneath the blankets, Snape heard Hermione make a little snuffling noise when Crookshanks' tail veered close to what he guessed was her nose.

Stepping closer to pluck the cat off the bed and set him down on the floor, Snape had been unable to resist running his fingertip across the rounded, downy soft curve of Hermione's cheek. He hadn't meant to wake her up; Snape hadn't even intended on coming to the hospital wing in the first place. After witnessing her becoming injured, the urge to protect her had grown even stronger, conflicting with his better senses telling him to leave her the hell alone.

Watching as Hermione stirred beneath the thick cocoon of blankets, Snape stepped back, halting when his leg almost upset a chair. The witch immediately relaxed and appeared to have fallen back asleep, when he felt some of his resolve disintegrating.

Why the hell not? he asked himself of his unspoken question: should he stay, or should he go?

Remaining at Hermione's bedside for a few minutes longer seemed innocuous; after all, she had gone still again and wouldn't even notice that he was next to her.

Only the unexpected happened, and Hermione turned over in bed and opened her eyes. She first noticed her cat who saw fit to balance his round form at the edge of the bedside table. Crookshanks tended to do the same thing on Snape's desk in his study, and more times than he cared to count, the professor had rushed to yank his quills and inkpots out of the path of the half-kneazle's rapidly swishing tail. Not only did the cat enjoy chewing on his favourite quill, but tipping over things with his tail was a cherished pastime. Right before Hermione woke up, Snape had been fervently hoping that the feline had enough sense to not knock over the half-filled glass of water which was precariously close to Hermione's pillow. Not only would it drench her bed, but she would get a face full of liquid as well as a rude awakening.

When Hermione became aware of her familiar's presence, as well as his, the delight was so palpable on her face that it physically pained the professor. She moved much too quickly to sit up in bed, fumbling to free a hand from the bed sheets and reach out in his direction.

"Professor, I...how are you?"

"I should be asking you that," Snape replied, carefully maintaining his distance by staying in his chair. "Obviously still in pain judging by the sound. Lie back down."

The smile on Hermione's face faltered a bit when she immediately picked up on Snape's aloof behaviour, and she drew back her hand, placing it on top of the blankets.

"I am," she admitted, gingerly falling back to her pillow while keeping her eyes on Snape's tense form.

"Did Madam Pomfrey give you anything for the discomfort?"

"Yes, but that was after dinner," Hermione answered groggily. "It put me to sleep for awhile but I suppose it wore off."

Without saying a word, Snape rose from his chair and disappeared from the private enclave of Hermione's screen-covered area. Returning a moment later with a small bottle in his right hand, Snape uncorked it with deft precision and loomed over Hermione.

"Madam Pomfrey gave me something else," Hermione said after glancing at the bottle. "I think it was—"

"I know what she gave you, and this is something different," Snape replied, bringing the bottle to Hermione's mouth.

"What is it, then?" she asked, jerking her head away and tightening her lips.

"A pain reliever laced with something to help you sleep," Snape told her, although it was clear that his patience was beginning to run thin.

"No, thank you."

"Open your mouth, Miss Granger."

"No."

"Last I checked you were eighteen and not eight, unless Pomfrey also gave you a De-Aging Potion."

"I haven't seen you for two days. Actually, I haven't seen anyone for the past two days. But now that you're here sleeping is the last thing I feel like doing."

"Damn difficult woman," Snape muttered under his breath, although he did place the cork stopper back in the bottle and set the potion on the bedside table.

That was easy, Hermione thought as she watched Snape resituate himself in the chair opposite her bed. Arranging his teaching robes with a flourish so as to not sit on them, the professor then folded his hands and placed them in his lap.

"Why are you being so thickheaded, little girl?" he smoothly inquired.

"I am not being thickheaded," Hermione protested, turning onto her side so she could continue looking at Snape. "But like I said, I've been here for two days and things are still a bit hazy. Madam Pomfrey won't tell me anything, well, anything useful, that is. So if you don't mind answering my question—"

"Question; singular, as in one? Bollocks. You are physically unable to merely ask one question; the whole of Great Britain would fall."

"Goodness—alright! A few questions, then."

Levelly eyeing her for a moment as if Hermione's question was difficult, Snape finally answered. "You are in the hospital wing because your lungs were nearly condensed into the size of a doxy's. Next?"

Clearly she hadn't been expecting that, and the horror was nearly palpable on Hermione's face that she literally had to force her gaped open mouth shut. "What?! Why does Malfoy know a spell like that? Even I've never come across something that sick, and I've already found the most gruesome spells in the Restricted Section—"

Not even the smallest flicker of surprise showed on Snape's face, and Hermione took that to mean that he already knew about her trips to the Restricted Section. Although there wasn't much he could say, seeing as she had gotten a note from Professor McGonagall giving her permission that go around. Yet she was not expecting Snape to move his chair closer to her bed and linger over her, the distance between them so short that despite the barely lit corner they were both sitting in, Hermione could count every wisp of black hair that had fallen over Snape's brow.

"You are so sure that Mister Malfoy was the one who hexed you," said Snape softly. "How do you know it wasn't Potter?"

Hermione's mouth went dry and she swallowed hard, her anger diffused by the unreadable look on Snape's face. It wasn't likely that he would ever stop blaming Harry for the most arbitrary things going awry, which was something that she was used to even though it continued to bother her. But the way he was looking at her now... Was she in trouble?

"It couldn't have been Harry because I was trying to stop him from hexing Draco," she explained a bit sheepishly, even though her heart had begun to speed up. "I stepped in between them and next thing I know, I'm on the floor feeling as if an elephant stomped on my chest."

"Granger, why the devil would you step in between two idiots brandishing their wands at one another?" Snape spat, losing most of his cool resolve. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Why are you getting cross with me!?" Hermione asked, sounding completely bewildered. "It's not like I knew they were fighting! I mean, I knew they were together in the bathroom, but I hadn't expected an all out wand fight!"

Why am I cross with you? Because for a split second I thought you were dead, you little fool, and that I would be sent off to Azkaban for murdering a student if that fucking Unbreakable Vow hadn't killed me first.

"You know, for someone who hates anyone hovering over him, you sure don't mind hovering over anyone else," Hermione was now saying even though she remained steadfast in place with Snape huffing at her, his anger looming between them as he practically shared the narrow mattress of her bed.

Not everyone, Snape thought, some of the hygienically-challenged boys in his House immediately coming to mind."Is that right?"

"So it seems. OK, so besides the idiotic notion of trying to keep my best friend from being expelled for fighting, what else happened?" Hermione pressed, refusing to let up until everything she wanted to know was explained.

"Funny you should ask," Snape replied wryly, even though it was apparent he found nothing funny about Hermione's question or its answer. He moved away from Hermione and straightened up in the chair although clearly he was still irritated. "After you were hexed, Potter retaliated with a spell that he shouldn't know, that no student should know. Even more interesting is where Potter learned about this spell."

When Snape paused, Hermione waved a hand, waiting for him to continue. "Is there a punch line, or..."

The look he gave her almost cut to the bone. "You've never played stupid in the past, please don't waste my time or insult my or your intelligence by doing so now. Perhaps I should rephrase my statement: when was the last time you saw Potter willingly reading a book that had nothing to do with Quidditch?"

Hermione's instantly widened brown eyes were affirmation enough of what Snape immediately suspected upon first walking into the bathroom and seeing a bloodied and trembling Draco with multiple gashes across his face and chest. Snape returned her shock with a wry look of his own.

"So Harry used a spell that he shouldn't have," Hermione said, trying to hide the fact that Snape someone knew about Harry's Potions book, even though he hadn't outright said so. "You still didn't tell me what happened."

"I found Draco lying in a pool of his own blood, to answer your ten-thousandth question," Snape informed dryly. "Would you like a detailed description of the cuts marring his face, or will the mental image you've undoubtedly conjured up suffice?"

"Professor, I know you don't care much for Harry," she continued, going through extreme measures to carefully choose her words, knowing that Snape's already shortened fuse became whisper-thin at the mere mention of Harry Potter, "but is there a chance that you're exaggerating? Maybe it's not as bad as you make it sound..."

"Granger, now you are being deliberately obtuse," Snape told her bluntly. "But seeing as you were unconscious for nearly the entire time and obviously suffered a slight loss of oxygen to your overworked brain, I suppose it's only to be expected."

A frosty glint seeped into Hermione's eyes.

"You know, you really are a—"

"A bastard?" Snape supplied, unable to resist goading the witch who was easily riled only when it came to those closest to her.

"I was going to say a real force to reckon with," Hermione snapped. She had grown hot under the collar as well as beneath the blankets and flung them off her legs, roughly kicking them down to the edge of the bed as if they were irritating her instead of Snape. "I'm not so far gone as to forget my manners and call you...that."

"Not yet, but I guarantee that one day you will forget those 'manners' and call me worse."

"I don't think there's anything you could do that would make me call you a bastard," Hermione scoffed, shoving a stray curl out of her face.

Snape gave a crooked smile. "Usually I would accept that as a challenge and an open invitation just to make you do what you swear you wouldn't. But as I recall, you have once before. And you didn't just call me a bastard, you referred to me as a 'right bastard'."

"For Christ's sake, I swear, you would outlive God trying to have the last word," Hermione chided, blushing to the roots of her hair when she remembered exactly which incident Snape was referring to, which now seemed ages ago. In her defence, the man had been perfectly horrid to her when she was only trying to help, yet that didn't stop her from feeling a pang of mortification for allowing the professor to bend her out of shape. Trying to hide her face, Hermione twisted round to fix the pillow behind her and gasped at the renewed ache in her chest.

"Try?" Snape intoned, leaning over to prop up her fallen pillow. "I wouldn't try; I'd just do. Now will you take the damned potion? What's the sense in you huffing in pain every other minute?"

"I'm fine!"

"Pardon me; it slipped my mind that I'm sitting next to the consummate Gryffindor martyr. You're in need of a few props; shall I magick a cross and a blazon with your House's emblem?"

"I'm going to act like that I didn't hear that," Hermione said dismissively. Her eyes widened again as another thought crossed her mind. "We're the only ones in here...if Draco was badly injured like you say, then where is he now?"

"In the dormitories."

"And Harry?"

"Back on Privet Drive with that horrid Muggle family of his."

Hermione did not take that statement well at all, and flinched so sharply that it caused her to nearly fall out of bed. Instantly her blood ran cold, and she couldn't help but feeling as though she was partly responsible fault for Harry being kicked out of school.

"But that's not fair!" Hermione yelped, her outcry stifled as more pain lanced throughout her body. "How is it that Draco can hex and nearly kill me and he gets sent back to the dormitory, while Harry gets expelled?!"

Snape lied about Harry being expelled purely out of spite; part of him wished that the bothersome young man was indeed far away from him. However, he'd nearly forgotten that when faced with what the girl before him perceived to be a great injustice, out of the window went her manners and bashful ways, and a fiery temperamental not to mention razor-sharp tongue took its place. Even her bookishness and punctilious ways for following the rules had no place in Hermione's world when she deemed it justifiable.

Waiting to see just how far Hermione was going to take her ranting and raving, and curious as to if she was going to call him out of his given name, Snape finally put an end to her verbal and interminable discontent by a simple, uttered "Enough!"

"No! It's not enough, and I'm nowhere near being finished!" Hermione carped, accusation written all over her face. "You don't know what it's like for Harry; he would have nearly starved had Ron and I not sent him food parcels over the summer hols. He was ready to stay in that filthy house with Sirius so long as it meant getting away from the Dursleys. Now what is he going to do?"

At the mention of Potter going hungry, Snape had a flashback of himself as a child at home during the summer holidays, which always coincided with him going hungry. There was always just enough food, and rare was the time he could remember going to bed with a belly fit to bursting.

Although Hermione was so worked up that she never noticed the way Snape's features seemed to freeze for a minute. It was her rambling that managed to bring him back to the present. Ill-fitting pajamas and her hair a complete mess, Hermione was still attractive to Snape, even if her roaring and that unmanageable mane of hers was worthy of the Gryffindor symbol. She had sunk her teeth in and launched into a full diatribe with no intent of stopping. Snape's first reaction at getting yelled at was to bristle, but he changed his mind, thinking it best to get everything out in the open and find out how Hermione truly felt.

"It's not fair, Professor, and you know it!" she continued, sounding upset and full of indignation as if she was the one that had been expelled and sent back to live with cruel family members.

"And what high flier told you life was fair?" Snape asked evenly. "If they did and you believed it, then I have a bridge for sale that you might be interested in."

"I'm going to talk to Dumbledore; he can't just sack Harry. It wasn't his fault," Hermione announced, shifting to swing her feet over the edge of the bed. "Maybe if I explain what happened—"

"Miss Granger, you have exactly three seconds to take your feet off the floor and place them back on the bed where they belong," Snape told her, sounding as if he himself was three seconds from physically moving Hermione's feet if needed.

"Unless you're going to bind me to the bed, I see no reason to stay here," Hermione challenged, although she remained in a sitting position with her toes grazing the floor.

"I'm not above binding you to that bed, you little bint, so don't tempt me," Snape threatened. "Anyway you will only be wasting your time dragging yourself across the castle as the headmaster is away."

"Then I'll owl him."

"No, you will not."

Crossing her legs and arms, Hermione stared defiantly across at Snape. She huffed and puffed like a bull being taunted with a red cape, and the sight of the fiery little witch amused him to no end.

"You know, I have to give it to you: you are a far more faithful friend than I would have ever believed," Snape commented in a voice free of judgment. "More loyal than the little pissant deserves. But have no fear, Miss Granger. Your friend has not been expelled; no doubt he's in Gryffindor tower, cursing the day I was born. I assigned Potter detention for every Saturday until the end of term; he was highly displeased at having to miss Quidditch."

Hermione couldn't care either way about Harry missing Quidditch, but her mouth fell open as she felt her anger and worry fizzle away. "Are you joshing me?"

"Maybe."

"Not about Quidditch, it really makes me no difference. But do you mean to tell me that Harry's been here this whole time?"

"Assuming he hasn't run off to break even more rules, then yes."

"I can't believe you would make up something like that! That was just plain mean; why would you say such a thing?" Hermione fussed, pulling a face.

"I never claimed to be a nice man. My lips would most likely catch fire for even uttering such a bold-faced lie."

"You aren't that bad..." she now mumbled, looking down to pick at her pyjamas.

"If you insist," Snape drawled. "But I know what I am and I have to live with it. That does make things easier."

Hermione looked up and frowned, unable to decipher that sentence. She noticed that Snape said he had to live with himself, as if he had been forced to and never given the choice, instead of just saying that he did live with himself.

"If you're trying to addle my brains, then I should point out that you're doing a perfect job," Hermione admitted wistfully. "But I'm still mad at you for lying about Harry being expelled."

"I find you...confounding as well," Snape replied genuinely, even though it was as if he felt discomfited by saying so. "And you are well within your right to be upset.

That first bald admission shocked Hermione. Snape was only direct when it came to few matters, many of which never involved the workings of his complex mind. Hermione had always heard from her mum that men were simple creatures; clearly she had never met Severus Snape. But he hadn't seemed all that complicated at certain times. Besides the spying, the lying, and dealing with the aftermath of his double life, when things died down, it seemed like all Snape wanted was some peace and quiet, and a meal. Maybe a cup of tea. Hermione had been able to supply at least two out of the three on most days whenever she spent time with the professor. Even at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Ron attempted to keep their noise down to a dull roar, not wanting to feel the wizard's wrath had he been disturbed.

Then again, there were other times that made Hermione wonder if Snape yearned for more than the basic necessities one needed to survive. Even she hadn't noticed up until now that she would have liked some sort of steady companionship, one that ran deeper than someone begging her to help with their homework. She definitely didn't need a boyfriend like Parvati Patil claimed—that idea was just preposterous.

"What do you find so...confounding about me?" Hermione broke out of her reverie to ask, testing her luck to see if Snape cared to elaborate.

"You don't need to know what or why I find you confounding, just know that I do," he replied stiffly. "I don't believe that I'm saying this, but you already know too much for your own good. Too much knowledge is not always beneficial."

"Now that sounds counterintuitive. But I don't see how I confuse you; I'm more of an open book while you're a bloody labyrinth. Just when I think I have you figured out, you do something else to surprise the wits out of me."

Snape raised one eyebrow, the only indication that he was piqued by Hermione's words.

"Really?"

"Yes. It's almost like you're, I don't know, hiding? But you don't have to hide, not from me. There isn't anything you could say or do that would make me see you in a negative light."

"A gentleman allows a lady to maintain her illusions. I, however, am no gentleman but I can guarantee that there are things about me which would annihilate this little romanticised version you seem to hold about me and frighten you so badly it would straighten that outbreak you call curls on top of your head."

Hermione shook her head; was Snape being serious? He had already literally bared himself to her; she saw the Dark Mark embedded in his left forearm as well as the myriad of scars marring his flesh. Hermione wasn't naive enough to believe that Snape had never involved himself in things that would land him in Azkaban or worse; no one received a Dark Mark while simultaneously keeping a clean slate. How else would he have proved himself?

Snape then moved from his chair to shift closer to Hermione, urging her to the center of the bed and drawing the blankets over her. Apparently this was his way of ending their conversation, and Hermione found herself becoming angry again.

"So is that it?" she asked tartly. "This is your way of telling me to stop asking questions and go to bed like a good little girl?"

"Precisely," Snape answered, bringing the sheet up to her chin. "And naughty little girls get a thrashing when they don't listen, so you mind your tongue."

Transfixed by the sight of the professor hovering over her, Hermione was unable to protest when he began tucking the blankets around her. Snape's face was unreadable although the lines of stress in his forehead and around his mouth seemed more prominent, and that was enough to make Hermione forget her anger for a moment and lie docilely when he began arranging her pillow.

"Must you go?"

"Yes. I hadn't intended on coming here in the first place, and I definitely have no intention of getting into this conversation with you."

"Yet here you are, and at this late hour, no less. Face it: you wanted to see me."

That remark made him pause."Lippy chit, you really are too bloody smart," Snape growled, sneering down at Hermione. "Your cat refused to let up until I physically carried him here, moaning and crying as if he was helpless without his mummy. Damned thing jumped out of my arm soon as I got through the door and yet was smart enough to go silent as a church mouse."

"So? You could have gone soon as Crookshanks ran to my bed."

"Perhaps, until the shifty little shit literally walked over and sat on my feet."

"Come on, Severus," Hermione laughed. "We both know that if you really, really wanted to, you would have just shoved him off and kept going."

The more she spoke, the further detached Severus seemed to become until it was as if he was a million miles away. Only when she loosened one arm from the blankets and grab onto his hand did the professor look down at her, a slight frown marring his gaunt features when he found Hermione staring longingly up at him.

Hermione's steady brown eyes clearly spoke of her intent, and Snape felt foolish, as if the tables had been turned; Hermione being his elder and him the less experienced one. Conflicting sensations rose within him, to the point that Snape felt disoriented and out of control. The feelings, which weren't wholly bad, had been steadily growing strong for so long that it was pointless to deny their existence.

In a roundabout and unspoken way, Hermione had accepted Snape's flaws and misdoings—the few less offensive ones that she did know about—from the beginning. He hadn't been lying when he told Hermione that she went about with a glamourised version of him. Oftentimes Snape remembered that the optimistic Gryffindor had a soft spot, even for those who were undeserving of her sweetness. How many times had he sat alone in his cold, empty dungeons with only a book for company, wondering the smokescreen came down and revealed his true self, how long Hermione was going to stick around for?

... But you don't have to hide, not from me. There isn't anything you could say or do that would make me see you in a negative light.

Such a blindly optimistic, utterly Utopian yet undeniably generous comment. Of course, Snape knew to not take those words to heart. If he were to believe it and fail in the end, it would destroy him.

Yet it still wasn't enough to make him break the facade that Hermione so desperately clung to.

Speaking of clinging, Hermione had shoved her hand up into his sleeve, tugging on his wrist and trying to make him sit next to her on the tiny bed.

"Severus?" she called softly. "What's the matter?"

"You need to rest," he answered, trying to disentangle his hand from Hermione's. "I'll keep your evil cat until you go back to your dormitory."

"What? No, wait!" she cried, almost falling out of bed when Snape finally prised his hand loose and began walking away.

This time Snape refused to stop and continued walking until he was nearly at the double doors of the hospital wing. Hermione leapt out of bed and her bare feet slapped on the floor as she ran behind him, doing a horrible job of hiding her gasps of pain.

"You are so lucky I don't have my wand," she panted as she clutched onto a handful of his robes at his back, "else I'd lock the damn door."

Snape didn't bother with masking his sarcasm nor did he try to make her let go of his robes. "Your spells are no match for mine, witch," he told Hermione, smirking at her while placing one hand on the door handle. "They come close, just not close enough."

"Yes, all right. Tell me something I don't know," Hermione said brusquely."But why are you leaving; have I put my foot in my mouth again?" That question made Snape turn away and her hand fell away from his back. Hermione was unable to see it, but his fingers had tightened around the curved handle.

Because if I don't end this now, it's not likely that I ever will.

"Because you need to have your arse in bed, that's why," he finally told her, his attention still on the door.

"Just my arse? What about the rest of me, is it free to hang about in the air of the hospital wing?"

That cheeky comment made him turn back around and deliver a slight slap to Hermione's backside, which happened so swiftly she never saw it coming.

"Severus!" she yelped, reaching back to grab the tingling area. "How would you like it if I slapped your bum?"

"You aren't fast enough," Snape pointed out, sliding both hands into the front pockets of his frock coat. "Although you are more than welcome to try, when you can breathe properly, that is."

Still able to feel the heat of his palm against her flesh through the thin and oversized cotton pyjamas, Hermione began wishing that Snape had left his hand on her. Now he was looking down at her as if he knew what she was thinking.

"Don't even try it, Granger."

"You don't even know what I'm thinking! Oh wait, you might."

"Don't I? I'm always three steps ahead of you, my little know-it-all. I won't even delude you by trying to convince you otherwise."

"Hmph. Might I have a kiss before you leave me again?" Hermione asked, moving closer to Snape until there was a fraction of space between them.

Either she was learning to catch up or Snape was allowing her to think that she was. Whichever the case, he said nothing as he slid one arm around Hermione's waist and lowered his head to hers. Making sure to not grip her too tightly, he brushed his lips against Hermione's before fully engaging her in a kiss.

Becoming completely absorbed by the thin, gentle lips rubbing against hers, which sometimes paused to lightly suck on her bottom lip, Hermione didn't realise that she had slipped both arms around Snape's neck and was practically dangling from him in an effort to keep him close.

"Get back into bed before your toes fall off," he murmured in her ear while trying to move out of her clutches.

That made Hermione laugh, and she freed one hand from his neck and playfully returned the slap on his bum from earlier. It wasn't likely that he felt much, considering that his body was completely covered in woolen trousers, a long frock coat and teaching robes.

"Don't leave yet; please?" Hermione pleaded, finding it hard to let go especially since Snape had stopped trying to move her other arm from his neck, slipping one hand beneath her pyjama top to stroke the small of her back.

Exhaling quietly in defeat, Snape pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead. In a fumbling effort of limbs and legs bumping against one another, the two walked backwards until they were at her bed. Snape then sat at the foot amid the rumpled blankets and tugged the witch down onto his knee.

"Why are you so intent on keeping me nearby?" Snape asked as if he truly could not understand Hermione's inclination towards him. His mouth lingered near her right ear and his words almost became lost to the nest of curls threatening to swallow the side of his face.

"Why do you think?" Hermione murmured, twisting around to brush her lips against the underside of his jaw. "I miss you when I'm not with you. I miss you even when we're together, which makes absolutely no sense to me."

Wordlessly taking in the unblemished sentiment, he allowed Hermione to continue plying him warm, soft open-mouthed kisses. She actually huffed in annoyance when his cravat remained in place, impenetrable to her impatient fingers.

Snape shifted Hermione off his knee and onto the bed, pushing her shoulder until her back met with the pillow and flannel blankets. Difficult though she was, as her arms remained cinch around his neck.

"Hermione, let go."

"No."

"That was not a request, you little delinquent, that was an instruction."

Hermione was incorrigible and didn't bother with trying to hide the smirk on her face. She maintained her grip around Snape's neck, keeping his face right above her. All she had to do was lift her head slightly and their noses would be touching.

"Are you trying to break my back?" asked Snape. His entire torso was shifted in a way that looked uncomfortable, purely due to Hermione's hold round his neck, while his feet were still planted on the floor.

"No, sorry," Hermione apologised, slightly loosening her hold. "But if you sit properly then maybe it won't feel that way."

To further emphasise her point, Hermione let go and slid up higher on the bed. In an effort to keep him from trying to leave again, she placed one foot behind Snape's back and the other in his lap, and began slowly unfastening the small white buttons lining the front of her pyjamas.

Snape was about to move Hermione's feet and stand up when he became fixated by the sight of her body becoming exposed. He had to remind himself that there was still some unwritten law about shagging one of his students, and another about doing so in a bed of the hospital wing.

"Don't, Hermione," he said in a somewhat pained voice.

"You don't want to?" she asked confusedly, her hands pausing at the button near her navel.

Snape's face contorted as if Hermione had just mentioned something completely ludicrous. Ever since she barged in on him in his dismal little room at Grimmauld Place, he yearned for her, and not only because of the warm, tight place between her legs. Although a certain part of his body reacted quite strongly to the sight of her disrobing, making him feel foolish for swiftly gaining an uncomfortable erection from a mere glimpse of Hermione's bare skin. Her breasts hadn't even showed as the pyjama top was still concealing her, displaying only a small patch of flesh between the gap of the unbuttoned plaquets.

With his eyes riveted on hers, Snape slowly twisted round until his right knee was between Hermione's legs. Advancing on the witch until he was kneeling over her, Snape took her hand and pressed it to the front of his trousers.

"Does this feel like I don't want to?"

Even though Severus was kneeling upright before her and straddling her thigh, the room had become so dark that he appeared to be nothing more than a silhouette. If not for the fact that her hand was now squeezing and tracing along the hardened length pressing firmly against the confines of his trousers, Hermione might not have believed that he actually was in front of her.

The last time they were intimate had been on Snape's birthday. Besides everything that transpired between January and now, the most they shared was a few kisses which had been stolen on the Astronomy Tower or in Snape's private laboratory. Hermione hadn't been able to experience the familiar comforts of his bed, as the last time they slept together, literally doing nothing but sleeping, it had taken place on a sofa in his sitting room that had been mildly comfortable only after transfiguring.

"No, this doesn't," Hermione intoned, now half-reclined on one bent elbow and cupping her palm over his wool-covered shaft, "but knowing how your mind works you're likely to tell me that you don't want to anyway."

"I may be many things, but I do try to not make a liar out of myself whenever possible," Snape told her, reaching down to run the back of his fingers against her cheek. Hermione immediately reacted by turning her face into his touch, moaning softly when he opened his hand and curved his palm over her cheek.

"Didn't you just lie about Harry being expelled?"

"Don't mention that damned boy's name right now. And stop trying to figure me out; besides giving yourself an aneurysm, you might find things that you would undoubtedly regret."

Hermione's hand still lingered over his erection, her touch faltering slightly when she became completely absorbed by the unsteady yet gentle fingers caressing her cheek. It really had been too long since she touched him in this manner. Apparently Snape must have felt the same way, for when Hermione realised that her hand had grown still, she resumed gripping his length with more fervour, and he responded by pushing his hips forward, his body language letting her know that she should continue.

It still didn't matter that Hermione was unable to see the professor's face; sliding her hand up until the unmistakable feel of the engorged head was beneath her fingertips, she gave a light squeeze which cause the wizard to groan aloud into the darkness. That short sound contained a wealth of longing and pent-up lust, and was enough to set her centre throbbing.

It didn't take Occlumency for Snape to know that Hermione was slowly becoming aroused; her grip on his knob was increasing as was the sound of her heavy breathing. She was actually wriggling against the bedsheets, most likely trying to quell the ache between her legs.

"You may as well take these off," she finally said when Snape groaned a second time from one of her delicate squeezes.

"Little inveigler; I didn't come up here to romp around in bed with you," Snape chastised, although he pushed Hermione's hand away to undo his trousers. "You don't need sex: you need sleep and a chance to heal. You can't even breathe properly without gasping in pain."

"Please?"

A rustle of fabric soon betrayed the sound of Snape shoving his trousers and pants down his legs. Hermione figured that he was going to leave them on, as he didn't move from the bed to completely remove them. Snape did, however, nudge her to lie flat and shift on the narrow mattress to allow enough space for him to remove her knickers and pyjamas bottoms.

"Do I need to cast a Silencing Charm?" he asked quietly, running both hands up the insides of Hermione's splayed and freshly bared thighs.

"No, but a locking spell on the door would be nice," Hermione averred, trying to keep her body from trembling when Snape's fingers came in close contact with the soft curls covering her sex.

"Oh? So we've suddenly decided to become shy, I see."

"Not shy, just cautious."

"Don't give me that rubbish; you're demure right until you're about to come. Then you get to clawing my back to ribbons and bursting my eardrums with your cries."

A sharp gasp of shock rent the air, making Snape chuckle darkly.

"I bet you're blushing right now."

"I am not!"

"Liar," Snape smoothly accused. "Your face is probably glowing like the sun. I can prove it." Letting his hand come down to Hermione's cheek, he indeed felt the warmth of blood pooling to its surface and heating her skin. "And I'm certain that it leads all the way down here." Dragging his fingertips down her throat, across the expanse of skin peeking out from her still partially-unbuttoned pyjama top, Snape paused when he reached her bellybutton. "Indeed it does."

"My, but you're horrid," Hermione whispered, prodding Snape in his back with her foot.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he replied unremorsefully, hissing when Hermione suddenly reached down and wrapped her fist around his length. Her touch effectively put an end to his taunting, verbal taunts, at least.

Snape unfastened that last button at Hermione's navel and pushed the fabric to the side, baring her soft skin to his gaze. By that time more light filtered into the room from the overhead window, and Hermione was able to see Snape literally drinking in the sight of her. Knees bent with Snape kneeling between them, completely prostrate and naked save for the slivers of fabric now only covering her arms, Hermione couldn't have been more exposed had she placed herself on a table and allowed the wizard to make a meal of her.

He stared at her for a while before actually touching her, and his heated gaze left Hermione trembling. At the first feather-light stroke of his work-roughened fingertips circling one taut nipple, Hermione keened softly as her body reflexively arched up into the caress. All thoughts of why he shouldn't be doing what he was doing, as well as the place of occurrence, were forgotten when Hermione rolled her hips against the bed, clearly wanting his touch to go further south.

Snape might have believed that two months without being intimate with Hermione would have made him want to rush things along. Yes, he felt like some randy adolescent, ready to stick it in and rut until the ache in his balls had dissipated. His erection hadn't slacked off in the least; if anything he was being continuously spurred by Hermione's strong reaction to his hands on her breasts, judging by the way his cock kept bumping into the soft skin of her inner thigh and dampening it with pre-ejaculate. But there was something else that made him want to take his time, to savour this rare moment.

Still prolonging things, Snape ran his hand over the curve of Hermione's hip, down her thigh and beneath the back of her knee. He placed that leg over his shoulder, turning his head to first brush his lips and nose against the area before gracing it with open-mouthed kisses.

Hermione trembled at the heated dampness of his mouth; she hadn't known that the inside of her knee was so tender. Even the feel of Snape's hair brushing against her skin was tantalising, and nearly made her moan.

"Why do you still have that on?" Hermione asked, now noticing that Snape was still clad in his teaching robes and frock coat.

"Does it bother you?" he asked, his lips continuing to tickle the inside of her knee.

"Yes, because I won't be able to properly touch you," she informed.

That little snag was put on a backburner when Snape's other hand brushed over her cleft. Even though the touch had been passing, it was enough to make Hermione quiver with anticipation. She desperately hoped that he wouldn't tease her for long; her entire body already felt as if it were on fire. Thankfully his hand moved from her the curve of her abdomen and back down to her core, where two slim fingers delicately separated her folds while a third nimbly tapped and stroked the hood of her clitoris.

A groan became lost behind teeth that Hermione could not unclench. She dug her hands into the blankets beneath her and twisted so sharply at the contact that her leg fell from Snape's shoulder, nearly trapping his hand between her thighs in the process.

"Too much?"

"Not bloody enough!"

A snort became a short chuckle when Snape completely withdrew his hand, causing Hermione to swear at him. He had become so lost in the feel of her soft, warm skin beneath his hands that he almost forgot about his stiff frock coat and teaching robes. Pausing long enough to remove both items as well as his cravat and wandlessly levitate them to the nearby chair, Snape unbuttoned his white linen shirt but left it on. His trousers were still halfway down his thighs; he didn't think they would be interrupted and hospital wing doors had been locked, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Slipping both hands beneath Hermione's thighs and pulling her towards him, Snape moved over her and supported his weight on his elbows. His erection was nestled between her folds, and he slowly churned his hips against Hermione's, trying to direct the head to slide over her clit. Even though she was aroused, forgoing lengthy foreplay hadn't left her slick like she would be otherwise. Of course, that made no difference to the witch, as her hands were firmly planted on Snape's shoulders, squeezing and massaging while wriggling against him, trying to make him penetrate her.

"I'm trying not to hurt you," he hissed, brushing his lips across hers before nudging the underside of her face with his nose. "Stop rushing me."

"Alright," Hermione moaned breathlessly, stilling her hips although her hands, of their own accord, continued pulling him against her.

This wasn't going to do. Besides remembering the way Hermione cried out in pain and jerked away from him whenever he'd been too hasty in entering her, there was also the issue of her sore chest to contend with.

Snape had meant it when he said that the last thing Hermione needed to be concerned with was sex; the hex Draco cast at her had been nasty, its repercussions not likely to disappear after a mere day or two. Snape didn't want to put his full weight upon her, but Hermione was making that difficult with the way she kept tugging at him.

"Put your hands above your head," he directed, causing her to look up at him curiously.

"Like this?" she asked, folding both arms at the wrists and resting them atop her mound of frizzy curls that was strewn about on the pillow beneath her head.

"Yes. Leave them like so," Snape replied, noticing the way the angle made her breasts rise. Briefly dipping his head to capture one erect nipple between his lips, he repeated the action with the other breast before reaching down to align himself at her entrance.

Hermione followed his instructions to the letter, going so far as resisting the urge to curl her thighs around Snape's legs and directing him to move the way she wanted. Moaning softly when his cock shifted from her opening to glide across her sensitive nub, Hermione reminded herself again to remain compliant. Even though she was frantic with need and the slightest touch from Severus was enough to make her want to thrash about, she kept her body relaxed as much as she was able to while he methodically carried out his ministrations.

Feeling both his fingers and the tip of his cock pressing intimately against her, Hermione now understood why he was moving so slowly. Whenever there was a long interval in between their liaisons, things were always uncomfortable for the first minute or two. Of course, the unbelievable pleasure Hermione experienced afterwards always made her forget about that initial discomfort.

Now Severus was gently prodding and pushing, keeping his thumb and forefinger wrapped around his shaft to control the depth of his excruciatingly slow thrusts. Briefly musing that she could probably time with a stopwatch his careful cadence, Hermione inhaled audibly and dug her fingers into her inner wrist when she felt the burn and stretch of her walls being separated. Her eyes had already been shut, yet Hermione squeezed them tighter when she felt the first flames of familiar and very much missed pleasure flickering its way up her spine.

When it was obvious that she was ready to accept the rest of him, Snape hovered over Hermione and rested his arms alongside hers while keeping up with the effort of not completely crushing her. The young witch's eyes fluttered open for a moment to see his face right above hers. Snape's eyes never left hers as in one cautiously measured fell swoop, he gently slid the rest of the way into her body, causing them both to moan in unison at the intense sensation.

Becoming lost in the little bubble that could be rightfully called their own, as well as the depth of Snape's black eyes that were hidden behind lids at half-mast yet intently peering into her own, Hermione found that she could not focus on anything except for the man above her, inside of her, stimulating the innermost recesses of her body and soul with his languid movements.

It seemed almost blasphemous to ruin this newfound connection with something as banal as screaming or moaning; Hermione didn't even want to utter a single noise, scared that she would ruin everything. But when she felt Snape's hands clasping over hers, weaving his fingers into her own while eagerly covering her mouth with his, she was unable to contain that small satisfied cry.

The sound of a heartbeat filled her ears, though whether it was Snape's or her own, Hermione could not discern. Her breathing became short and choppy as he continued swirling and circling his hips against her. There was something to be said for his less-than-hurried pace; she was literally able to feel everything, able to focus on everything while solely the sensation of him sliding smoothly in and out of her body. On the instroke Severus continuously brushed against a spot that made her tremble, and on the outstroke, another spot that made her want to arch her back and demand that he go faster. The fact that his hands and lips barely left hers gave Hermione another sense of security, which in turn made something wrench inside of her.

Unaware that her body was becoming taut as a bowstring and trembling head to toe, and ignorant to the fact that she was repeatedly murmuring Severus' name, although the words were almost nonsensical-sounding considering the way he'd continued to kiss her, Hermione felt herself climbing higher and higher until she exploded into an release so fierce that it left her breathless. Eyes wide open yet unseeing, her world faded into nothingness as she was completely and utterly consumed.

The sight of Hermione becoming completely unhinged beneath him, her lips parted yet no sound coming from them, combined with the feel of her snug walls pulsating around him left Snape reeling. Even though they were physically joined, for a split second he sensed some sort of shift, a newly discovered intrinsic connection. That thought came to him easily and without warning, and had he not been otherwise distracted, it might have made him leery considering that said sensation was a first for the wizard whom believed that life taught him everything he already knew about himself.

Later on, Snape would wonder how the hell his life had been further turned upside-down by the wisp of a witch. Also he would be thankful that no ghosts had glided through the hospital wing, as the bedsprings beneath them had creaked and protested loudly enough to wake the dead. But for now, his wiry frame trembled with the intensity of a release that nearly knocked him over like a tidal wave, causing him to forcefully spill inside Hermione while trying to remember how to breathe.

Snape and Hermione both felt the loss when he withdrew from her still twitching walls. His arms and legs were shaky and he nearly collapsed atop her chest until remembering why doing so was a bad idea. Letting go of her hands and weakly settling to Hermione's side, Snape found himself reduced to a boneless, well-sated heap. Hermione was also so spent that she didn't bother with moving her arms from over her head; she left them there, too tired to laugh when Snape accidentally bumped the top of his head on her bent elbow.

After a while they finally moved to accommodate one another on the narrow mattress. Snape knew that he could have used his wand to widen the damn thing, but his mind was still so jumbled, not to mention his jelly-like limbs, that he wouldn't have been able to muster the fortitude to do so. It had been Hermione who eventually dug her wand out from beneath her pillow, charming the bed to a larger size after raising her head to see Snape's booted feet dangling over the edge.

Snape grunted some semblance of thanks as he shuffled closer to Hermione, too worn out to do more than lay his arm across her stomach.

There was an unspoken understanding that their shared sensations of fulfillment and total satiation had more to do with a powerful simultaneous climax. Neither spoke on this sudden switch between them that seemed to sweeten things while making them more complicated. For now it was enough to bask in the comfortable afterglow of whatever it was that transpired.

Hermione slithered her way closer to Snape until her head was resting between his shoulder blade and bicep. They were facing one another, his prominent nose close to her forehead. Each time he exhaled, Hermione could feel the dampened wisps of curls at the peak of her forehead being moved. His arm was stretched out behind her, partially buried beneath her mound of curls, and Snape idly twirled a few strands round one finger. Hermione had slipped a hand beneath his shirt, stroking his lower back and tracing her fingertips around the odd-shaped scars she found there.

Snape was so relaxed that Dumbledore and the Dark Lord could have waltzed into the hospital ward, wands drawn and all, and he would have no issue with telling them both to bugger off, that once he finished his nap Dumbledore would be free to sack him for sleeping with a student, and the Dark Lord could finish him off for his cardinal sin of sleeping with a Muggle-born.

Turning over onto his back, Snape felt his the flannel sheets against his bare backside and realised that his trousers were still halfway down his thighs. He would have left them like so except the air was now a bit bracing for his tastes. Hermione wasn't bothered by the chill, or she was too lazy to worry about covering herself with the blanket. Instead, she slid one leg between Snape's once he finished tugging his trousers back up to his hips, completely bypassing the buttons.

"Crookshanks, get down," Hermione mumbled ten minutes later when she felt the cat hop up on the bed and drape himself over her and Snape's intertwined legs.

"At least he stayed away until we were finished," Snape pointed out in a slumberous tone, shaking with silent laughter when Hermione cringed in embarrassment. "Well done, cat."

"Oh no, I hope he didn't hear us."

"Perhaps you mean watch."

Hermione gasped as if scandalised by the very thought. "No, don't say that!" she murmured, feeling her face growing hot.

"It's not as if he's going to tell anyone," Snape quipped. "But have no fear, I believe your familiar remained on the other side of the wing whilst we were...engaged."

Crookshanks had in fact been in the throes of a catnap ever since the humans began quarreling. As far as he was concerned, he had done his part in bringing the professor up to see his mistress. The rest was up to them to sort out. His sensitive ears had briefly honed in on the sound of their muffled moans and noisy bed springs, yet it hadn't been interesting enough for him to investigate. A passing spider had alerted him and made him creep out of his corner, and by that time the humans were wrapped round one another, looking as if sleep was seconds away. Preferring the couple's body heat since there was no lit hearth, Crookshanks decided to join them on the bed, forgetting about the spider.

"He used to wait for me in the bathroom at home when I was taking a shower," Hermione began through a yawn, "but anything else, I made him stay outside. It still didn't keep him from sticking a paw beneath the door. Can't have a wee or brush my teeth without seeing little paws."

"Now that is where I draw the line," Snape replied, sitting up in bed and pushing his fingers through his hair. "I refuse to let a cat watch me taking a piss."

"Are you leaving already?" she asked, becoming more alert when Snape shifted.

"Yes, Hermione. It's nearly four in the morning."

It looked as if both Hermione and Crookshanks were pouting; Hermione because she didn't want Snape to leave, and Crookshanks because he was disrupted by the professor moving.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense..." she conceded even though there was a tinge of disappointment colouring her words.

Forgetting that she was dressed in nothing but her unbuttoned pyjama top until Snape unearthed its matching bottoms and her knickers from somewhere beside the bed, Hermione allowed him to slide them back over her legs. He even carefully refastened her top and ordered her beneath the blankets.

"And they call me bossy."

"You are bossy, yet somehow still manage to not follow directions that benefit you," Snape told her. He had just finished redressing and was now perched at Hermione's bedside, ignoring the scowl she was shooting at him.

Just as Hermione opened her mouth to protest, she found it full of a foul-tasting potion, with Snape's thumb and forefinger pinching her lips shut to ensure that she swallowed it all.

"Hey!" she groused once she hurriedly swallowed to rid her tongue of the bitter liquid. "To think you called my bedside manner appalling. Some warning next time, please?"

"What, so you can fight me? I think not," Snape told her, vanishing the empty phial. The last thing he needed was for Madam Pomfrey to come in and find it on the bedside table.

Hermione's vision had already began to grow fuzzy yet she valiantly fought against the lassitude suddenly weighing her down.

"Prof...Severus...I know you said you gave Harry detention..." she murmured, her eyes growing heavier by the minute, "but do you think you can take it easy on him? After all, he was...defending me."

"Bleeding heart Granger," Snape said softly. He had to admit: Hermione did have a point. While he suspected that Potter hexed Malfoy for reasons other than self-defence, he was sure that part of it had to do with defending Hermione, and secretly would not begrudge that nuance. "I'll take it into consideration but I promise nothing."

Hermione sluggishly fumbled around for Snape's hand and brought it up to her face.

"Thank you, Severus," she murmured, fast slipping into a dream-like state while nuzzling her lips against his knuckles. "And thank you for...I didn't know it could be like... that."

Snape knew what Hermione was referring to. However, she was unable to elaborate further as the potion finally took hold made her drop off into a complete state of unconsciousness, causing her head to loll to the side and her hand to fall away from his. She never noticed the bed being transfigured back to its normal size, nor Crookshanks jumping down to await the black-haired wizard who pressed his thin lips against her forehead, leaving her with one final kiss.
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Unintentional Inveiglement