Harry Potter 1. The Little Things

_We're ignoring the war, and I'm not setting a definite time period. Fluff is good, as is a happy little oblivious universe of two._

He'd taken root in her mind like a stubborn weed: first he wedged his way into some remote recess, then was nourished by the occasional arguement and her desire for recognition of her talents. She _was_ good at Potions, dammit! Ultimately he crept to the forefront of her mind, tendrils tangling her brain so that she could not quite think straight when he was around.

She'd catch glimpses of him in the main hall during meals or sometimes see his black form gliding around corners. Or at unbidden moments like now when she couldn't help but conjure him to her mind. It was usually the silly little things that bade her think of him, like certain herbs or scents. 'Or the gorgeous full moon outside the window,' she mused, turning from her homework with a sigh.

The moon was singularly bright. She wished she could walk with him, hand in hand beneath it...

Hermione slapped herself back to reality. She had homework to do. "He" was not just any boy, but a professor. One that did not seem fond of anyone, let alone a young Gryffindor. And she really had a lot of homework to do. Not to mention that he was at least twice her age and then some. Even though he moved so swiftly and gracefully. But his eyes displayed his age. Dammit, she had homework to do! And if either of her two best friends knew that she fancied "The Greasy Git," they would ... Well, she wasn't sure what they'd do or say. But it would be bad. But there was something about him, that was for certain.

Restlessly, Hermione's eyes refused to focus on her homework. Outside seemed nearly as bright as day under the illumination of the full moon; its light was rich and soft, practially begging her to come outside for just a little while. A little walk around the grounds wouldn't hurt she rationalized, as she slipped on her cloak and moved through the common room. Whether or not she'd run into _him_, exercise and fresh air would do her a world of good.

Ron and Harry were sitting by the fireplace, playing a game of Exploding Snap. "Hey, 'Mione," Ron called to her, "where are you going at this hour?"

"Just out for a walk," she called back airily, quickly disappearing through the portrait hole and down the hallway before either of the boys could follow her.

The view from outside was even more beautiful than merely seeing the moon through her panes. Hermione ran through the lush grass of the grounds, the crisp night breeze gently caressing her skin. This had been a very good idea, she decided. The sky was indigo, and there were still a few pinpricks visible despite the brightness of the moon. She flopped down on her back in the soft grass, simply admiring the night and letting her mind wander.

He was the first thing she found, naturally. He would come and lay beside her, and they would talk about anything and everything while just holding hands. Stolen moments were the sweetest after all; they could have a million moments like these and they would keep their relationship a secret until everyone else was ready to know...

"Like a moth to the flame," a voice cut into her thoughts. Hermione's eyes snapped back into focus to find a rather displeased Severus Snape - flesh, blood, and ebony hair - looming over her. "Miss Granger, I didn't know you were so foolish as to be prone to letting your mind wander like that."

Hermione gasped. How long had he been there? Had he been reading her thoughts? "Like...what, sir?" she squeaked.

"I simply mean that you would allow yourself to be so vapid and vulnerable, laying out here alone and staring up at a sky which will not do your homework for you. I believe I assigned you an essay that is due tomorrow?"

"I'm already done, sir," she smiled.

'Insufferable Gryffindor,' he thought to himself, trying not to admire the hue the moonlight cast on her skin. "Well, I suppose that you'd at least be able to tell me the main uses for asphodel?" Reaching into his pocket, Snape casually dropped a small blossom into her lap.

"Its one main use, as I'm sure you know, is that the flowers are used for drawing love to you." Hermione wondered at his choice of question, smiling to herself as she fingered the petals. She dared not breathe, or hope that this was a dream come true, lest it crumbled.

"Very good. Five points for Gryffindor."

"I... What?"

Snape contorted his lips into what could arguably be defined as a smile. "I would think that you - if anyone, Miss Granger - would recognize that most of my pomp and sarcasm is a direct result of the dunderheads that I am forced to interact with. You at least have some intelligence." He looked at her for a moment, following up his last thought by saying "though don't expect me to admit to that with any more than an audience of two nearby. But I would like to reward you for it when I can."

Hermione blinked. This was certainly a side of Snape she had never seen before. "Um... Professor..."

"Yes?"

"Thanks." She didn't really know what else to say, and was terrified of ruining the moment.

Snape nodded to her. "It's getting late, Miss Granger. It would be wise to return to bed before I am forced to enforce your curfew, and possibly give you detention." Neither knew whether the idea of detention was a threat or a promise.

"But it's so gorgeous out here!" Hermione protested. "Just look at that sky!"

"Yes, the moonlight was very useful for picking certain herbs by. But it's not good for much else."

"Oh, doesn't it make you want to walk with someone, holding hands-" Hermione cut herself off when she realized what she said. She had as good as admitted her feelings to Snape for the second time that night.

He raised an eyebrow to her. "Of all people, Miss Granger, I would have thought that you would be sensible enough to not become some moonstruck filly. I will pretend I didn't hear that and escort you back to the castle now. It is getting quite late."

Despite his pomp and sarcasm Snape offered Hermione his hand, helping her up off the ground. She took it and neither pulled away once she was standing. They headed back toward the castle; she shivered slightly at the energy flowing between them. "It _is_ a shame to waste the moonlight," Snape conceded quietly before releasing her hand when they reached the main entrance. "Straight to bed with you now. Goodnight, Miss Granger."

"Goodnight, Professor." Hermione skipped off to bed, but when she got there her eyes refused to close.

'Thank Merlin for the little things,' she smiled to herself while hugging Crookshanks. He let out an indignant squeak when she squeezed him a little too tightly, but put up with her ministrations. He was purring almost as loud as Hermione was to herself.


	2. Precious Things

The blossom he had given her was tucked into the corner of her mirror. It smiled up at her as she brushed her hair, which she wished would be manageable for at least one day. 

Ron and Harry had given her a number of strange looks that morning at breakfast. Obliviously, she continued to mull over the events of the previous night, still smiling to herself. Perhaps it meant nothing that he had given her a sprig of asphodel; he was just simply carrying it with the rest of the herbs he had harvested. Or perhaps it meant everything - though it had been dark, she had not seen him actually carrying any other plants, nor were his robes unusually bulgy. Nor had he said that he was out picking herbs, come to think of it. He had just said that the moonlight was good for _harvesting_ certain herbs. And then he had offered her his hand, and held it all the way back to the castle.

Perhaps it hadn't been Severus Snape at all! Maybe someone had taken Polyjuice Potion, and... No. Hermione ignored the nattering thoughts in her brain. It had been him, she was sure. But there was one way to find out for sure what his intentions were, she mused while packing her schoolwork carefully into her schoolbag. Quickly she took the Potions essay back out again, unfurling it gently. She pressed a few small violets and gardenia flowers in between the rolls of parchment. If he knew flowers as well as any potions master should, that would send him a pretty clear message.

She placed the roll on his desk with a barely perceptible smile, one for him alone. He caught it, and responded with a smile that only she observed. Little did she know that he had lay awake all night, torturing himself over the encounter. She was still his student, first and foremost. Secondly, he doubted it was he whom she had wanted to hold hands with in the moonlight. If anything, he had probably made her uncomfortable by interrupting her solitude. And, goddamnit, she was his student. Even if the unthinkable happened - that she did care for him in some way - that was a taboo that could not be broken. 'She was probably mooning over Potter or Weasley anyway,' he remorsed as he barked out instructions for today's class. They were going to make a fairly simple potion that aided the user with clear thinking. Merlin knew he could use some right about now.

He sat down to read essays as the class bustled around him. Would he read hers first, or save it for the end to cheer himself up? He opted to get it out of the way so that he would have to stop thinking about her sooner rather than later. A half-foot in, he found the blossoms and could almost feel a blush creeping to his cheeks. The shrewd little lioness... He knew exactly what she was saying. Goddamn her, she was clever. Not only was she returning his affections, she made allusions to their meeting last night. Violets were used in night magic, after all.

He rolled it back up before anyone else could see. He debated calling her out on it in the middle of class, but decided that was unnecessarily cruel. After all, it had been he who gave her a flower first. Judging by a lack of death threats from Potter and Weasley, she had probably not told anyone about their encounter last night. He moved on quickly to the next essay, but Hermione had noticed his studious glare at her submission.

She worried her lip as she mixed ingredients. He noticed this too, under hooded eyes as he skulked between desks. Finally, class was over, a million subtle glances later. She lingered just a few moments longer than anyone else. "Professor, I've always meant to ask. What do you do with our potions after you grade them?"

"I usually _Scourgeify_ them. They're not worth keeping, to say the least." He curled his lip in a show of distaste, just for the benefit of anyone else around.

"Is there any chance I could have mine?"

"Perhaps, if it is satisfactory. Come back and check with me later, Miss Granger. I'll let you know of a convenient time." He would be greatful to see her briefly out of class, he realized. Perhaps it would give them a chance to talk, alone. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have these sorry excuses for essays to mark." With that he turned away coldly, and she hurriedly packed up her bag.

Hermione hardly ate anything at lunch or supper that night. Again, Harry and Ron cast worried looks between themselves, but she wasn't paying them the slightest bit of attention. She planned how quickly she could get her homework done while pushing her meal around on her plate. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be there again.

Between lines of homework she counted the minutes. When it was sufficiently late she slipped on her robe, then cast a simple Disillusionment charm so that people would not notice her. When she reached the outside she let the charm fade away, while slowly meandering toward the place that they had met last night. She cast subtle glances in a number of directions, trying to see if he was around again. Not being able to find him, she sat down on in the grass.

The night was cooler than the last, and the moon hung close to the horizon. The stars were more visible tonight and Hermione's idle comments about walking hand in hand swirled in Severus Snape's mind. He watched her from the shadows, feeling torn. He wanted to go to her again, as he had last night. But then she would begin to _expect_ it of him, he feared. What was worse was that he did not know how long he could remain stone-faced around her. For now, they must remain apart - it would be easier on the both of them. Maybe, if things did not change down the road... He sighed as he placed a small package in his owl's claws, and watched as the bird sailed on the night breeze.

Hermione was startled as a large black owl landed in the grass beside her. Almost affectionately, it hooted softly as it dropped something small into her hands. As she unwrapped it, the owl climbed up her arm and began nibbling her hair, rubbing his large inky head against hers. Snape watched from the shadows with a twinge of jealousy, but allowed himself to smile a bit when Hermione had unwrapped the bundle, and immediately looked around for him. In her hand was a brilliantly polished rose quartz. She ran her fingers over it a few times, then pressed it to her lips. Satisfied, he called softly to the owl, and slipped back inside the castle.

She realized he was not going to come to her tonight when the owl had given her a final nuzzle and flew off. Still, Hermione stayed out long enough to watch the moon set completely before trudging back to bed. It disappeared in a brilliant blaze of orange. 'Funny,' she contemplated to herself, 'that something so icy from far away can glow so warmly when seen closer.'

She tucked the gemstone into her front shirt pocket, constantly reaching to make sure that it actually was there. Just before bed, she slipped it under her pillow after making a chain for it. From now on she would wear it under her robes, close to her heart.

AN: Gardenia eases attraction of friends/lovers, and violets also symbolize faithfulness, pure love and night magic. Rose quartz is the gemstone of gentle love, it adds positive energy to relationships. smiles


	3. Sweet Nothings

_ If my To-Do list was the Giant Squid, I would be engulfed in tentacles. That said, this will probably be the last update for a couple of weeks, or until I make sushi wry grin_

It took Hermione a full week to match Snape's gift, to find something appropriate for him. Not for lack of ideas - she knew exactly what to give him - but for lack of the gift itself. Finally she acquired a flawless snowflake obsidian; she mulled over the best way to give it to him. Owl was too obvious, and she could not just leave it outside in hope that he would find it. There was no way she could just hand it to him, or could she? She decided that the best way to give it to him would be in person, but under the pretense of picking up her Clear Thinking potion. He had yet to convey to her a convenient time to meet, but she had not inquired as to such, either.

His every thought was focused on her since he sent the quartz via owl. Three days went by - he waited on tenterhooks - before his hope dwindled. She must have forgotten him, he rationalized. Or perhaps she thought the crystal was from someone else. Or perhaps it meant nothing to her and he had been an old fool once again. 'Or maybe Weasley finally wormed his way into her heart,' he scoffed to himself as he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Turning the corner, he spat out "Well, speak of the devils!" as he nearly ran headlong into the Dream Team, walking arm in arm: Potter, Weasley, and _her_ .

She smiled up at him, much to the disgust of her companions. "Professor Snape, sir, I was wondering if I could pick up my potion sometime this afternoon?"

"We don't even have Potions today, and you're going to voluntarily see that greasy git?" Ron muttered to himself, but everyone heard anyway. Hermione gracefully stomped on his toe, and Ron glared back in return.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said silkily, "until you can control your mouth, Weasley. And you, Miss Granger, should set a better example for your peers. Another ten from Gryffindor." 'I'm sorry, Hermione,' he thought to himself.

She blinked up at him in confusion. Didn't he realize that she was defending him? Harry cut in with "Make it fast, Hermione. Before my stomach turns."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor. Shut it, Potter. Don't flatter yourself into thinking I want to speak to you before breakfast, or ever for that matter. I'll be happy when your sorry face is gone from this school."

Their barbs were too much for Hermione, who was overtired and hungry. Stifling a sob she ran down the hall, her great plans forgotten. Harry and Ron ran after her, leaving Snape aptly alone. He watched the three disappear, a mix of jealousy and anger gnawing at his insides. It was her friends' fault that she was in tears, and they would be the ones who got to comfort her; they'd fill her head with a bunch of bollocks about how he was just a prat, and she should ignore him. Ultimately, he feared that she would listen to them. Going back to his quarters, he dashed off an owl to her, detailing a meeting time.

_Miss Granger,_

_I will be in the classroom at 6:30 pm. If you want your potion, come then._

_S.S. _

Her door locked, Hermione ignored Ron and Harry's pleas from outside. She let herself cry until Snape's large ebony owl drew her attention to her window. She let him in, and read the short missive before firing back one of her own.

_I will be there. Not impressed with this morning's events._

_HG_

He read it, wondering if she was criticizing him. If she was, she'd hear about it that night. Until then, Snape let his anger simmer.

At 6:25 pm, she knocked on the door. He hurriedly put away the now-dried flowers she had given him last week. "Come in."

"Umm... Professor..."

"Yes. You wanted your potion?" She nodded. "Unfortunately, I believe I _Scourgified_ it with the rest." Her eyes went wide, and he could sense her temper beginning to flare. Damn impudent Gryffindor. He could not tell her that he had tested it on himself. It was too ironic that it had made him realize just what he was beginning to feel for her. "Rest assured, it was fine as always, Miss Granger."

She could sense the sarcasm in his voice, and dropped her eyes. "Fine as always. Just mediocre, I suppose? No better than the rest of the dunderheads." She refused to look at him, though she laughed constrainedly. "I just asked you if I could meet with you. I didn't expect a bloody war to break out!" With that, she tore a small package from her robes, throwing it at him. "I suppose you deserve this now!" With that, she tore out of the room.

"Hermione, wait!" He hoped that using her first name would startle her, make her stop. He didn't want their conversations to be like this. But she did not come back in and he heard her footfalls echo until they slowly died away. Sighing, he unwrapped the small cloth. Snowflake obsidian. If her essence was captured by the stone he gave her, she captured him equally with this. "Match point, love-love," he muttered, thinking of some weird Muggle game. She probably knew how to play, he realized miserably.

That night she tore the quartz from around her neck and vowed to forget her silly schoolgirl crush. For the next month and a half she ate heartily, let Ron hang all over her, and only had trouble focusing on her schoolwork when the moon was outside her window. She and Snape said nothing more than the necessities to each other, and she refused to wonder what he had done with the stone.

The first freeze of the year marked a Hogsmeade trip, the last one before Christmas. The grounds were covered in a blanket of snow and the lake had frozen solidly. Bundled in winter robes, the merry group made their way to the village, impervious to the weather. Snow drifted gently down around them, and they caught each other more than once from slipping in the snow.

Harry and Ron tried to drag her all over creation, but she slunk away from them into a new bookstore that had just opened up. Truthfully, Hermione wanted some time to herself; she knew that the other two had no real interest in literature unless it had to do with Quidditch. She wandered the rows, accumulating a small stack of would-be purchases. Her eyes fell on a row of leather-bound tomes, all several-hundred year old first editions. _Famous Witches and Wizards_, _Magical Properties of Common Muggle Plants_, _Care of Magical Creatures_, _The Birth of Quidditch_, and _Moste Potente Potions_. The last one especially caught her eye. She wondered if he owned it. Looking at the price tag, she worried her lip and gingerly slipped the book back onto the shelf. One of these would cost more than an entire year at Hogwarts. But they were first editions! "I would give her wand arm to have these in my collection!" she cried to herself, painfully turning from the shelf.

A dark-cloaked figure kept a close eye on her as she wandered the rows. He smiled to himself when he saw her gush over the ancient tomes, especially the one she held onto the longest. He watched as she paid for her meagre purchases and left the shop, presumably to let Weasley hang all over her again. Or to be swallowed by the snowfall outside, one of the two.

That evening she found it hard to concentrate on her studies, yet again. The sky had cleared up since dinner, and she was restless. A half-full moon hung high in the sky, glinting off the powder-white snow. The whole world was white and the pristine grounds outside beckoned to Hermione. One set of footsteps would not ruin the landscape. She slipped out of the castle without anyone noticing - she was getting far too good at such, she marked - and breathed in the sharp, chill air. The moon reflecting off the snow was bright enough to make her eyes water.

She ran down to the lake, transfiguring her boots into skates. As a child she had loved figure skating. Hermione flew over the glassy surface, making the occasional notch where she attempted a jump. It had been years, but she still remembered the basics. Waltz jump, three turn forward, mohawk backward, then crossover, crossover, glide backward, and toe pick in... She landed a single flip, to the sound of applause. Startled at the intrusion, Hermione suddenly lost her balance and fell backward. She hit her head off the ice with a resounding thunk, and was even more startled to see the worried face of Severus Snape inches from hers.

"What in the name of Merlin were you doing, girl?"

"Practicing for the opera." Hermione couldn't help herself. "What did it look like I was doing?" She sat up, and he wobbled backward.

He bit his lip. "I suppose you were fine up until I startled you. I suppose that's some form of Muggle sport?"

She was shocked that he did not have a snarky reply for her. "Yes. It's called figure skating. A lot of Muggle girls do it."

"I see." He was silent for a few moments, then continued. "You looked... lovely."

Confusion. Didn't he hate her now? "Thanks, I think."

He nodded, transfiguring her skates back into boots. "I hope you don't mind, but this sliding about makes me dreadfully uncomfortable."

She giggled. Merlin, was he happy to hear that sound. "That's alright. I was going to head in soon anyway. I... didn't really expect to see you out here."

"I didn't expect to find you out here either," he half-chided as they moved back into the snow. 'Though I've been keeping an eye out for you, I did want to see you again, when we can be like this.' "I'm sorry for what happened last month, Miss Granger. That whole incident was uncalled for."

"You can call me Hermione if you want," she remarked simply. She was happy enough just to be near him again. Telling herself that she did not care for him was a lie, even if she had quarantined the quartz pendant to the bottom of her trunk.

"Alright... Hermione." They stopped walking at the base of a large tree, out of view of the castle. The massive willow cast stark shadows on the blanketed ground - black silhouettes on virgin white. He paused for a moment before pulling a large package from his robe. "This is for you."

She opened it gingerly, and involuntarily let out a squeal when she saw what was inside. It was the first edition of _Moste Potente Potions_. "How did you know?" she exclaimed, hugging the book tightly to her chest.

"I had a feeling."

"But this must have cost you a fortune! I don't think I can accept this, sir!" She tried to push the book back into his hands.

He laid his hands on top of hers. "It was a small price to pay to make you happy, when I have made you miserable for so long."

She shook her head. "Still. I saw the price tag!"

"Hermione, please." His eyes bore down into hers, silencing her. "Money is not a concern for me. I want you to have this. Some things are worth more than Galleons, I have come to realize that."

Knowing this was a bout she would not win Hermione backed down. She smiled to herself. "If you insist. And for the record, I'm sorry that I ran out on you like such a chit."

"Apology accepted." He did some quick calculations in his mind. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for not being a stubborn lioness, and for admitting your faults."

'Just when you thought you had the man all figured out,' Hermione grumbled to herself. Tonight, he had taken her emotions for a rollercoaster ride, and she had a feeling he was not through yet.

"And twenty-five for your wonderful artistic display earlier. I believe that takes care of the previous incident?" She could hardly believe it, but Hermione swore she saw a twinkle in Severus Snape's eye. "Also, before I forget, Merry Christmas." He nodded at the book in her hands.

"Thank you. Merry Christmas, Profe-" She was silenced by his finger pressed to her lips.

"Since you have granted me the honour, I will allow you to call me Severus," he corrected. "But only in present company."

She nodded, smiling ear to ear. "Well then, Merry Christmas Severus. You realize I'm going to have to find something to give you now, right?" Without giving him time to respond, she placed the book on a tree stump for safety then flew at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his back. He responded by hugging her back just as tightly.

He weighed his options carefully. It wouldn't do to waste the moonlight tonight. After holding her close for too short a moment, he picked her up and dumped her in a snowbank after silently casting a Disillusionment charm. It wouldn't do for anyone to see him _playing_, after all. She responded by pelting him with snowballs, then tackling him down into the snow. "How do you like it, Severus?" she giggled as she pressed him into the drift.

"I believe the tables have turned," he smirked as he rolled over, leaving her once again on her back in the snow. Boldly, she responded by kissing the tip of his nose, causing a flush to creep to both their cheeks. "You know, Hermione, I didn't even feel that. Sadly. Perhaps a sign that we should go in for the night, before our extremities freeze?"

Disappointed, she pouted, still underneath him in a snowdrift. He so badly wanted to kiss those extended lips... Instead, he got to his feet and offered his hand to her. She took it, though she wanted to offer warming charms if it meant spending more time with him. But he seemed determined to go inside, so she followed along. Grabbing the book they moved back to the castle, huddled together and fingers entwined. At the main doors, he gently kissed both her palms. "For lost time," he explained. "Sleep well, snow angel. I'll see you soon enough." As they entered, his tone changed. "Bed. Now, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor Snape." She smiled to herself, having finally figured out truth from fiction. And she already had a good idea of what to give him for Christmas.

_AN: Snowflake obsidian is the "painful truth" stone, one of directness, transformation, and great power. It also symbolizes a great teacher.  
Rose quartz can be used to soften some of its sharper "edges."_


	4. More Than Words

Her hands still warm, Hermione rushed back up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower. She made it back to her room without incident, and without running into Harry or Ron. Putting her new, treasured book aside, she dug ferociously through the wooden chest until finding the anthology she needed. It was rare for anyone her age - Muggle or magical - to appreciate Romantic poetry, but she was a rare girl.

Turning the pages, Hermione finally found the poem she was looking for: Byron's _First Kiss of Love_. Pulling out a clean piece of parchment, she copied the words from the page with shaking hands. She hoped that he would understand the sentiment underlying the words written almost two hundred years ago. Surely Severus would be refined enough to appreciate poetry, she rationalized, signing her name and the date at the bottom. Hermione wanted to take the parchment to him immediately, but it was far too late. Or was it? He had ordered her to bed, but that was under his usual stern and bitter guise. She could easily make it to the dungeons without being seen, and a short visit wouldn't hurt anything.

Giddily, Hermione shook her head. She was being irrational at best; it was unlikely that he was even awake at this hour, never mind that it was long since time to be in bed. If she were caught wandering the halls at this hour, she'd be in major trouble. Delivering the present would have to wait until tomorrow at the earliest, she decided, directing her unwilling feet into bed. They had spent an agonizing eternity at ends with each other, so a wait of eight hours should be tolerable.

Severus Snape, meanwhile, was staring into the absolute blackness of his dungeon bedchamber. His heart felt lighter than it had... well, since they had fought. He had spent several months' salary on the book, and he was lucky that she had welcomed him with open arms. If not, he would have begrudgingly added the tome to his own library, putting it in such a place that it would not remind him of her when he looked at it. But he could not be bitter with her for injuries he had originally caused; the time he'd spent ignoring her was agonizing. Every Potions class, he'd wanted to ask her to stay behind, but seeing Weasley dangerously close to her made his stomach churn angrily. It seemed she was someone else's, and he had lost his chance... but tonight proved that was not so.

He tried to pinpoint when he had first become _aware_ of Hermione, but could trace it to no particular date or incident. Over the last few years, a sense of similarity, of equality and quiet understanding, had subconsciously developed between the two. It began when he saw how brilliant she was at Potions, as well as every other subject. But he had not fallen in line with the other professors and allowed her to become his pet. He recognized that they were becoming intellectual equals, and it scared him that she was a mere slip of a girl, only half his age. His respect of her had deepened when heard her defending him to her friends. She was growing up too, he mused. She was less a girl and more a woman; her classmates, however, were still children, at best. He acknowledged that he had felt a quiet kinship with her for some time now, willing to admit it or otherwise. Then, the asphodel had mysteriously appeared, it seemed such a short time ago. It led him to her that first night, and they had went from there. Severus Snape was scared at best, he had no idea where this wild ride was going. But he felt _something_ for the girl, and it was the first good thing he had felt in a very long time. Ultimately, secretly, he was as scared of being hurt by her as he was of hurting her.

When the morning came, he was still awake. His owl startled him by landing beside the pillow, a small sheet of parchment clutched in its claws. Unfurling the paper, Severus felt his body grow warm as he read the introduction: _This is your partridge in a pear tree._ Reading the contents three times over he pressed the parchment to his lips, knowing full well that she understood the connotations of sending him Byron. Dear heart, she had sent him _Byron_. She was the only other person he knew who enjoyed Romantic poetry; perhaps they were even more connected than he was willing to admit.

True to her words, Hermione continued to send him other Romantic passages for the next eleven days, all via his owl. He was amazed at the creativity and sensitivity of her selections, but he feared that even small smiles in the Great Hall would give him away. The twelfth day was when the students were expected to go home for the holidays; Snape grudgingly spent time in the Main Hall seeing his Slytherins off. He was shocked to see Hermione standing with McGonagall, not hauling her own trunk and her ginger cat out into the powder...

(To Be Continued, soon!)

_AN: Sorry I've been so remiss with updates! I hope to have the second half of this posted within a week or two. School has kept me... occupied... sigh_


	5. Stolen Moments

Severus gave Hermione a subtle, yet pointed look. Behind McGonagall's back, Hermione mouthed, "Later. Library." to him, and he set back to his usual scowling as students left through the main doors. He paid special attention when Hermione hugged Harry and Ron when they came downstairs, and he noted her promise to Floo to the Burrow for Christmas Day. Ron murmured apologies about something - Severus couldn't hear what - and the boys set on their way. He couldn't help noticing that Hermione looked a bit sad, and he resolved to find out why... and to take her mind off whatever it was.

After the Gryffindors had left, Hermione dashed up to the library, wondering how long it would take for Severus to arrive. Under the guise of homework. she had managed to read nearly a quarter of a textbook before he arrived, though that wasn't saying much, as she was a fast reader. Madam Pince cornered Severus first, however, and he was not pleased with the deterrent. "Ah, Professor Snape! Are you to be my replacement for this afternoon?"

"Pardon? Oh, er, yes," Severus lied. Timing certainly was convenient. He began to lurk about the library while Madam Pince gathered her things.

"Miss Granger is currently the only student in here," Madam Pince called over her shoulder as she headed out the door, "I doubt she'll give you much trouble." With a whoosh of a cape and the click of a door, the two were left alone in the library. The mood between them was much lighter than it had been a week ago, and Hermione smiled greatfully when he came over to where she was sitting. Knowing that the walls had ears, Severus didn't speak to Hermione, beyond a cursory "good afternoon, Miss Granger." She replied nonchalantly, and he sat down near her. He took a scrap of parchment from her stack of notes, and scribbled 'Why did you stay?'

Reading the note, she replied in the same manner. 'Parents went away, and everyone was going to be home at the Weasleys. No room for me.'

'I'm sorry, Hermione.'

'Don't be.' She stared across the table, and he met her gaze. 'Did you get the owls?'

'Yes.' He played with the pen for a moment, before writing again. 'Thank you.'

She grinned at him 'I thought you might be someone who appreciated Romantic poetry.'

He nodded. 'One of the few, I'm afraid. A dying breed.'

Hermione blushed before scribbling the next line. 'One's enough for me.' She felt giddy, again, just to be near him.

He quirked an eyebrow. 'Don't make promises you can't keep.' He could feel his heart creeping up his throat. Her intentions were clear, though he still found it absurd that anyone in their right mind could have any sort of feelings for him.

'I'm not promising anything.' She stared at him pointedly. 'Nor do I expect you to. Is there a place we can go to actually talk? This is getting a little tedious.'

'I don't know if I can l-' Severus' scrawling was interrupted by the sound of the library door. "Hello?"

"Hello?" a female voice called back. Coming around the bookshelf was Professor Sprout. "Ah, Professor Snape, Miss Granger. How are you both this afternoon?"

Hermione smiled up at her, cleverly hiding the note. "Well, thank you. Professor Snape was kind enough to go over some Potions work with me while I languish away here on Winter Break."

Professor Sprout laughed. "Don't let him fool you, Hermione, he's actually nice under that rough exterior. Anyway, I've been sent to watch the library this afternoon. Will I have the pleasure of your company?"

Hermione was torn. She enjoyed talking to Professor Sprout, but also wanted to talk to Severus more, and for different reasons. "Well, actually, we were just about to head down to the dungeons for some hands-on work," she smiled.

"Well, I won't keep you, love," Professor Sprout grinned back. "Have a good one, yeah?"

Hermione and Severus made their way down to the dungeons, just in case anyone was watching. When they were certain nobody was around - it was likely nobody was around for several floors, in all actuality - Severus turned to Hermione. "Your intelligence and fast thinking never cease to amaze me, Miss Granger," he smirked.

Smiling up at him, she replied, "well, one might say that I learn from the best." She paused, blushing a little. "And... thank you for coming to find me in the library. I wasn't sure if you understood me, or if you'd even show up..." They were at the door to the Potions classroom now, and Snape steered the both of them inside, after charming the door locked and soundproofed.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, his onyx eyes stared directly into her warm brown ones. "Despite our lack of words, I did promise to meet you later. I was curious as to why you were staying behind..." He trailed off, not wanting to confess what he was really thinking. 'I didn't want you to stay just because of me,' he thought to himself, 'and a part of me wishes that you were.'

Hermione placed her hand over his, noticing the difference in size. His hands were much larger than hers, and slightly calloused with the effects of detailed work. "Well, now you know." She too was too shy to reveal everything on her mind, though she was brave enough to tease him with, "now you'll have to put up with more of me, though!"

Surprisingly, Severus smiled at her. "That would be a chore most welcome, though I trust you know that we can't spend too much time together." He left the words unspoken that Dumbledore and others would become suspicious of any odd behaviour; though they would probably be more relaxed over the holidays, it would still be odd for Severus and Hermione to suddenly be spending a lot of time together. That, and teacher-student relationships were generally frowned upon. Shaking his head slightly, Severus put the thoughts from his mind. They would deal with all of that when they had to, and not a moment before.

Hermione nodded in response, squeezing his hand. "I know. But right now, I just want to spend what time with you I can. To hell with the rest of the world." She let go of Severus' hand, and stepped toward him, hugging him tightly. "A few months ago, I never would've thought that this would happen, that I'd have anything more than a silly schoolgirl crush on you. Or that you would be anything more than 'a professor.' But I'm glad that we have this chance."

Silently, Severus ran a hand over her hair, while he wrapped his other arm around her. Maybe stolen moments were all they could have, for now. He still thought he was at least half-crazy, but at least he wasn't alone in it. "I'm glad too, Hermione," he whispered. He was almost afraid to move, knowing that eventually, he would have to send her back upstairs, and they would have to wait for the next stolen moment. For the first time in far too long, he felt secure. And happy. And he didn't want to lose the warmth he felt in his chest.

Still pressed close to him, Hermione gazed up at Severus. All she could think was that everything felt _right_; she didn't think anything could make her happier. Just to be together, to hug him that tightly made her weak in the knees, and it was all she could ever want. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed as something appeared over Severus' head. "Did you... conjure that?" she whispered.

Looking up, Severus was shocked, and he felt warmth creep into his face as well. "No." Suspiciously, he eyed the plant, not knowing where it came from.

Hanging above their heads was a perfectly-shaped mistletoe plant, its leaves a vibrant green and berries a luminescent white, like that of moonlight. It certainly hadn't been in the Potions room previously, nor had either of them brought it in. Yet, it floated directly above their heads, unwavering. Mentally, Severus caught a glimpse of a smiling Dumbledore; he couldn't be sure, but perhaps this was - quite literally - a sign from above, a blessing on their developing relationship.

Regardless, there was only one thing to be done in such a situation. As Severus inclined his head, Hermione stood up on tiptoe, closing her eyes with a soft sigh. Somewhere in the middle of their mingled breathing, their lips met for the first time, brushing gently against one another's. The kiss was like drinking a fine wine - the first sip was warm and sweet, but it left a craving for more. Severus pulled Hermione even closer as she laced her fingers together at the back of his neck; when their lips finally parted, he kissed her forehead as she returned her arms to his waist and leaned into his chest. The two stood as if frozen for a number of minutes, afraid the world would shatter if they moved. Lips had finally done as hands and tokens of affections did.

Realising this was not a dream to wake from, Hermione reached a hand up and rested it on Severus' cheek. The moment was as real as the rose quartz pendant she was wearing. He leaned into her palm, eyes half closed. Neither felt a need for words.

_AN: Sorry this is so long in coming! But I hope the ending was worth it._


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance