He'd gotten permission from the headmaster to meet with Madam Pomfrey while he was away on summer holidays so he could get some additional insight into his mother's care. As it turned out, the headmaster knew his mother. He had been one of her professors while she was a student at Hogwarts. Five years he'd been a student here and the headmaster had never once given an indication he knew who Severus Snape even was. Maybe he didn't, Severus supposed he would never know. He'd seemed sincere in being sad at hearing that she was not physically well. Severus wasn't going to admit to the headmaster that he thought his mum might not be mentally well.

He had found a couple of muggle options, but he wasn't sure they were the right ones. He also had information on an aunt that Madam Pomfrey thought might be most sympathetic to Eileen Snape's circumstances. He had no idea what exactly most sympathetic meant. He wanted to know more, though, before approaching estranged relatives.

For all he knew they were worse than his father. There had to be a reason she chose his father and the life she'd lived that led to her condition today over those related to her. Forget him, her allowing the mistreatment to go on.

Wouldn't she want to get out if there was a better option?

They had to be pretty shitty people to just disown her because of who his father was. From pictures and what he ascertained through snippets his mum told him over the years, his dad hadn't always been an abusive, drunken fuck.

True, his mum wasn't eighteen and fresh out of Hogwarts when she married his old man, but he still couldn't fathom turning his back on and casting his child out. That seemed as if he would be setting her up to fail. Or forcing her to stay in an impossible situation. At least she'd married a man versus another witch or gotten pregnant with him before they were married.

He'd come a respectable just shy of eleven months after they'd married. He'd counted more than once over the years, wondering if that wasn't what had happened. What had caused her family to turn their backs on her. On her son.

Unless they managed to lie about his date of birth and her parents couldn't take the disgrace, but he didn't see either of his parents being that diabolical or crafty. They could have lied about their date of marriage he supposed, but again he didn't see the point. Her parents had already disowned her for marrying Tobias Snape. Fudging his birthdate or the date the marriage took place wasn't going to change the fact she'd married a muggle man.

And wouldn't the fact she'd waited to get married suggest that she took time to actually think about who she wanted to marry? (The fact she'd obviously chosen wrong aside.)

He was up on the seventh floor again today before visiting Madam Pomfrey, trying to remember how it was he'd gained access to the Room of Requirement last month. To remember what Hermione had said about it. He hadn't told anyone he'd found it. He wasn't going to contribute to the rumours about it because he preferred keeping it private if he could.

Selfish? He could admit in this, yes, he would be. He wanted to be.

Walking past the ballet dancing trolls he thought about Hermione. He looked for her the last weeks of his fifth year and never spotted her. With hair like hers he doubted very highly he missed her. That coupled with the unusual clothes she'd been wearing and the book she'd left being published in 1983 led him to believe he wasn't going to find her anytime soon.

The Room had brought him to her once before, though. So perhaps it would again? She'd said the time they'd met wasn't her first time using it. He hoped so because it seemed as if it had brought him to her not vice versa. She'd been in the Room first and his wish circumvented hers, at least it seemed to. For all that he understood it anyway.

He wanted to see and talk to her again.

And maybe even kiss her again. If she'd allow it.

Okay, yes, his mother was an excuse. He'd never had anyone, male or female, talk to him as she had.

As if she cared.

As if he mattered.

As if she liked him.

I want to see Hermione. Please show her to me or how I can communicate with her again.

He thought and thought, not the same thing repeatedly but always seeing Hermione again was on his mind.

The door appeared and he found himself holding his breath for a moment in … Trepidation? Anticipation? He wasn't sure which.

Both?

Would she be in there? Would she be glad to see him again? Did she have time to think of their conversation and realize he was not worth her time as it seemed all others did? Would this wizard she liked have talked to her by now? She was older than him when they met but he suspected that wasn't truly the case going by the book he'd found. Still, though, he must have seemed so stupid, admitting to only having one friend and having insulted said friend in such a fashion.

He pushed the door open and sighed, pleased that the same room was there again. Complete with a book on the table just as before. It didn't look like the same book, which made sense since he still had the copy as well as the sandals she'd left behind with his things. Hidden and charmed to reveal something else if someone were to look at it.

His mum probably wouldn't care about him having womens sandals in his possession. His father, though, would think something perverse or criminal. Or both. And obviously the book couldn't be found by anyone else.

He'd stopped at the library in Cokeworth when he got home from Hogwarts and found that there was, in fact, a book entitled Carrie by Stephen King from 1974. He'd pulled the library's copy from the shelves and took the copy she'd left behind out of his pocket. Comparing the two, they appeared to be the same book aside from different cover art. He doubted very likely a publisher would allow a book to go to print with such a typo on the copyright page.

So he had gone to where and when was she from? He remembered her saying that she could not tell him things. That night he had assumed she was being difficult or coy, cheeky maybe. He hadn't thought too deeply about that until now. He had no idea why, other than he'd focused more deeply on other parts of their conversation.

Was she a time traveler?

"I assume that's you, Severus," she said.

She didn't sound upset or surprised about his being here. How much time had passed for her?

"It is," he said.

"How are you? How did you do on your OWLs? I suppose there's a chance that you haven't taken them yet."

"I think I did very well, thank you for asking. I expect the notification will come soon. I suspect, too, that you are aware of how well I did."

"Ah, so you just finished the year then?"

"Yes. When we saw each other last, what date was it for you?"

"June 30. I suppose it was probably July 1 when all was said and done. Officially. I hadn't been to bed yet, though, so to me it was still June 30."

"And today?"

"July 2 now I guess," she said. So really only a day had passed for her. "Very early."

"And the year?"

"I can't tell you that, Severus. I probably shouldn't have told you the date."

"The same year as our previous encounter?"

"Yes," she said.

"And you're in your sixth year?"

"Yes, just finishing, obviously."

"Do you know me?"

"I do," she admitted.

"You have me at an advantage then."

"Not really. I don't think anyone truly knows you, Severus. One person maybe, if my thinking is correct. And I hope to God and Merlin that my thinking is correct."

"Has our Saturday meeting occurred yet?"

"No, net yet," she said.

"Do you think that I will show?"

"I don't know, but hope that you will," she said.

"So do I," he said.

He meant it. He really hoped however far into the future from today their scheduled meeting was that he showed up. From his perspective here today he'd be a complete fool to stand her up.

"What's on your mind tonight, Severus?"

"My mother," he admitted, heading toward the chairs. "I've obtained permission from Headmaster Dumbledore to talk further with Madam Pomfrey about her condition. I found some muggle homes that will take her, but am hesitant to go that route. She's a witch, a pureblood, and could live to be two hundred years, or potentially longer as the Prince line seems to have longevity in it from what she's mentioned. I'm not sure a muggle home is prepared to deal with that. Certainly, they'd wonder why at ninety or ninety-five she wasn't slowing down. What happens if she has an accidental magic outburst? I also don't know how the wizarding world would react if they found out I'd placed her with muggles for care."

He didn't want to get ridiculed or add further shame to the Prince name by misstepping in this. Again he felt at sixteen he should not have to deal with this, certainly not on his own.

"Agreed," she said softly. "How did your talk with Madam Pomfrey go?"

"I haven't had it yet, at least not today's. She gave me some information before. I have the name of an aunt she thinks may be likely to help."

"You came here first?"

"I did," he admitted. Was that admitting too much? That after spending one evening together she meant too much to him.

"What day is it for you, Severus?"

"Also July 2," he said. "Tomorrow will be Saturday for me, but not our Saturday I realize."

"Mm," she said. "Have you sought your relatives out?"

"I have not," he said, moving to sit in the chair on the other side of the small table from hers.

She held up her hand and he stilled before actually taking the seat. Did she not want him to sit near her? Had she realized between the time they'd last met and now that she was wrong to be kind to him? It had only been a day! Maybe that was all the time she needed, though.

She stood and closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly instead of two chairs and the table in front of the fireplace there was a sofa. He sighed in relief. A sofa meant she wanted to actually sit near him. Close to him. Didn't it? That was a good thing. Wasn't it?

"You really know how this place works," he observed, taking a seat on the sofa.

"I've learned to. Tell me," she prompted as she joined him on the sofa.

She sat near him and he noticed that she smelled the same as the last time. He breathed in deeply, letting her scent wash over him. He liked it, he realized. It felt … right. Was that weird? She took hold of his hand then, and he allowed it as she laced her fingers through his.

Allowed it.

Who was he kidding?

His heart was hammering because of her touch. He was relishing in it.

No one had ever willingly touched him before this witch had. Not like this. Her doing it he realized was enjoyable and yet dangerous. He had no idea when he'd see her again. The Saturday after their first meeting, which he would apparently know when that was supposed to be.

Eventually.

Something told him it wouldn't be as easy as 1983.

"I know about their existence, nothing more. I would think if she thought they could help she would have approached them long ago. So, I guess I'm just not sure if they'll help her and that I won't make things worse if he finds out."

"Well, as you just said, muggle assistance is quite limited since you can't admit what she is. I think you should, Severus. At least you'll know! If they haven't talked to her in years I'm not sure they're going to go tell your dad that you paid them a visit. I'd hope they'd appreciate your concern and keep quiet even if they won't help."

"It's a risk, though. If my father ever found out," he said.

She reached for him then with her other hand, cupping his cheek. It was soft and warm like the last time and he had to admit even to himself the touch felt nice and was more than welcome. That was probably pathetic, but he didn't really care. He'd never had someone touch him like this. He was going to enjoy it while it lasted. He knew it wouldn't last long.

He wished he knew when he was going to see her again. When this July 1 and July 2 were for her. How long until he'd feel her touch again?

"He's not a wizard, though, so he's not going to find out if you at least talk to them, Severus. You could tell them that. I doubt they want her, or you, hurt. You never know they may feel bad if they find out everything you've both been through."

"Who are you?" he whispered.

How did she know these things about him? About his family?

"I can't tell you more than I have. You know that," she said.

"I know. You left your book last time. I noticed the copyright page."

"Oh!"

He chuckled then. "It's the only logical explanation."

"Isn't it funny we live in a world where the only logical explanation is that we're here together yet come from two different times?"

"It is odd," he agreed.

She took a breath and kissed the cheek she wasn't touching. "I don't know what the room is doing, but I'm glad it's doing it. I've really enjoyed talking with you, Severus."

"Me, too," he said, turning his face a bit so he could kiss the palm of her hand. She didn't pull away or slap him so took that to mean it was an accepted advance. "I am older than you."

"Yes," she said. "Well, right now I'm older, but when I know you, yes, you are older."

She dropped her hand then and he missed the warmth of her touch. Her hair was as unruly as he remembered it, as if it had a mind of its own.

He knew he was the older one because if she was a sixth year, even if it was 1983, he'd be twenty-three then. He'd asked Headmaster Dumbledore if he knew of any students coming next year with her name. The headmaster hadn't and he doubted he'd lie to Severus about something like that. There was no need.

"Not 1983?"

"Not 1983," she admitted.

He sighed heavily. That was frustrating. That meant it was longer than that.

"Have you decided whether you're right or not?"

She smiled wryly, eyes seeming to search his. If he knew what it was she was searching for he'd give it to her.

Gladly.

He really was a sap. He really thought he was above all that.

Now that he'd had time without his friend, especially a few days this summer away from Hogwarts and the stress of OWLs. A few days of being alone to think things though. Well, he could admit Lily had been more about comfort and belonging. She was the only one who'd been his friend so she was all that he had to work with. She was certainly all that he knew. He'd just assumed meeting her as he had was a sign.

He was obviously wrong. He was ashamed it had taken him as long as it had to come to that conclusion. If he'd realized it sooner would the Marauders have left him alone?

"No," she said. "Not yet. It's too soon to tell. Do you know where your mother's relatives are?"

"Vaguely," he said.

"I admit I didn't find much information about your mother."

"Why were you looking for information about my mother?"

She sighed heavily. "I just needed to," she said.

"But you can't say why," he finished.

"Right."

He huffed.

"What are you going to ask Madam Pomfrey?"

"Well, like I said, I'm not sure the muggle options are going to work the more I think about it. I know St. Mungo's is an option, but I'm not sure how long they could keep her. Father could find her there, too, I believe."

"What would you do with her if she got better?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

That was kind of the problem. He was making a decision that may ultimately make her better enough to return to his father, her abuser. And that could lead them back right where they were now. He couldn't support her. Not yet anyway. One day, out of Hogwarts, he sure hoped he would be able to.

Or worse than their current situation. His father could kill her. Severus thought she had made plenty of mistakes, but she was still his mother.

"I'm not sure if she wouldn't demand to go back home."

"And likely end up in the same position she's currently in."

"She's an adult, I can't make her…"

"I know, Severus. I'm not criticizing you or her. Abuse is," she shrugged, tears forming in her eyes. "It's hard to leave. I've heard that's the case at least. Hopefully the fact that you're going into your sixth year soon will influence her decision. You're almost an adult, ready to be on your own."

"I hope so, too. Are there more options where you come from?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's not something I've ever had to look for. There certainly should be," she said, seeming to ponder that.

"Why are you here tonight? Or is it day where you're from?"

"It's late at night or very early morning, I guess. I have permission to do some research. The library may not be entirely safe right now. I'll be here all day I'm pretty sure."

She paused, biting her lower lip as if she was thinking. Her hair, as it seemed to do, emphasized that fact. He wondered if it did that all of the time.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has given my friend Harry a task. We decided the other day, Ron and I, that we are going to help him. I'm trying to research."

He glanced around the room. All he had seen was a fiction book when he came in. There was nothing here that suggested she was researching.

"I think the room is putting your desires ahead of mine as I had plenty of books and parchment strewn about before you entered."

"I took you away from something."

He felt … bad. She was in the middle of something that sounded important and he'd taken her away from it! He wanted to see her, but he didn't want to be an imposition.

Yet, she hadn't told him to leave or suggested she'd rather get back to her research.

"We're not embarking on the task quite yet, Severus."

"Why did you say nothing?"

"You obviously needed to talk again and the Room gave us that, and I do like talking to you, Severus. Very much."

"And obviously by your work disappearing I cannot assist you as you did me with the burn paste," he surmised.

"It would seem not. How was the burn paste?"

"I was able to sell it for the same amount I sell mine for," he admitted with an impressed nod of his head. He didn't even bother telling anyone he hadn't been the one who made it because hers had been so good he hadn't felt the need to.

"Well, I take that as a compliment then. I'm glad."

"I was impressed. You've obviously learned well."

"I had a great professor," she said and he sensed she was being sincere yet giving a bit of cheek with her answer. Yet another thing he imagined he would find out whenever he saw this witch again.

"Not Professor Slughorn then?"

"Mm," she said.

"Can't say, I know."

They were both quiet. He wasn't really sure what more to say. He wasn't brave enough to take her touching him to mean she wanted to kiss him again.

"Did your mother teach you to play Gobstones?"

He scoffed. That brought him out of his thoughts of whether to kiss her. How would she know to ask him that? "I'm sorry. Did she what?"

"You heard me, I know you did, Severus."

"She did," he admitted somewhat shyly.

No one knew much about his parents and he preferred it that way. He supposed he should be grateful that Lily hadn't told anyone about them. She certainly had plenty to tell if she were inclined to betray him in such a manner. That had to point to her caring to some degree.

"We couldn't play often because of Father, but she did teach me."

"You don't want anyone to know you do anything as mundane as play Gobstones."

"It's not very Slytherin," he said with a shrug.

She giggled softly at that and he found again instead of it sounding insipid or dumb that he liked it. He liked being the one to make her laugh. She'd done it the other time they were together, too, and it hadn't bothered him then either. Normally, giggling girls were something he steered clear of.

"Severus," she murmured.

"Hermione," he replied.

"I'll be leaving soon," she said.

"Already?"

"Not today. I can stay as long as you want me to, however, our task. The one I'm here researching things for. I don't know when I'll be back. I don't know what the Room is doing or how it's doing it, but I'm not sure I'll be able to get back to you."

"You said you're finishing up your sixth year."

"I am," she agreed.

She was quiet, watching him closely. She was looking, seeking something. What, he couldn't imagine. If he knew, if she'd tell him what she wanted to know, he'd tell her.

"Severus, just know that if the Room doesn't provide time with me it's not from lack of desire on my part. I will try to find a way that we might be able to communicate."

"Okay," he said. "You sure are unable to tell me a lot."

The idea of no time with her next year bothered him more than he cared to think about. He, dare he think it, liked this witch. Two months ago he wouldn't have believed such a thing was even possible. He thought it was reciprocated, too, which confused yet intrigued him. Was that pathetic? Especially considering she wasn't even from his own time and he had no idea when he might see her again. Other than longer than six years from now.

She shook her head.

"What do you want to do when you're done with Hogwarts?"

"You don't know?"

"I know what you're currently doing, yes. That's not the question."

"Well, I'm rather gifted in potions. While I'm not someone Professor Slughorn pays much attention to because I don't have a pedigree he can brag to others about, he has mentioned a potential apprenticeship."

"I think you'd be wonderful at potions. And do what with that mastery?"

He shrugged. He truly hadn't thought that far ahead. He was poor so his options were likely quite limited. "Go into business for myself eventually. I have so many ideas on how to improve potions and more than just a few for new potions."

"That sounds wonderful."

"I don't do that, I take it."

"I'm not saying that you do or you don't. I just think it sounds like a wonderful idea, a great way for you to use your gift."

What did he do in her time he wondered? If she knew him that would indicate he was involved with Hogwarts somehow. Though she was talented at potions herself judging by her burn paste. Perhaps he owned an apothecary and she knew him as his patron. He hoped he was far away from here.

"Maybe you can come up with some way to help others like your mother," she said.

"I take it I haven't done so?"

"Severus," she hissed.

"My apologies, Hermione. You can't tell me if the situation were reversed, you wouldn't be curious."

"Of course I would be for a number of reasons. First and foremost, obtaining knowledge is in my nature as I suspect it is in yours. It's why I find talking to you so fascinating."

"Would I be able to leave a note for you? Do you think the Room would ensure it's kept for you?"

"I would think so. I guess I can't say for sure, but obviously Hogwarts is fine with our communicating."

Funny she said that, that Hogwarts was fine with it. He'd mentioned Hogwarts in conversations to people a few times over the years and all had looked at him as if he was daft. They evidently didn't … feel whatever it was he felt in this castle. It was so much more than just a castle.

She did, though. She had the connection he did, or at least a similar one. He was glad to find someone who … understood. Who felt it the same as he did.

"It would seem so. I will try."

"And I'll try. I'll be here until I have to leave."

"When did you find out you were a witch?"

"When I got my Hogwarts letter. So, I was eleven. Did you always know?"

"Yes, but my friend. The one I mentioned, Lily, she didn't know until I told her a year or so before we got our letters. I couldn't talk about it at home, so it was nice when I realized what she was to be able to talk to someone."

"I can imagine. I know when I'm at home it's frustrating because my parents try to understand but they just don't. You know, Severus, maybe in time, once the insult isn't so fresh she'll come to realize your apology was sincere."

"Is that first-hand knowledge talking?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't have that information. It's wishful thinking on my part that a person you believed to be your friend will come around to realize one insult isn't worth throwing years of friendship away."

"I hope so, too. Especially since it seems I won't be able to have you regularly. I, however, with time on my hands to think as I have with my OWLs complete, have come to realize that our friendship was rather one-sided all along. At least since we came to Hogwarts. So I am not sure there was much of a friendship on her part to throw away."

"Oh Severus," she said.

She leaned in then and kissed him. Not on his cheek and it wasn't just a light kiss like last time's either. He'd been on the receiving end of a handful of pecks from Lily over the years, friendly and - well if he was being honest now - dismissive. He recognized those very well by now. This wasn't that. This was nothing like he'd ever received before.

This was a kiss. Something he could understand Shakespeare writing sonnets about.

He came to the realization in that moment, with this kiss, that Lily had never cared for him in the way he believed until recently he had cared for her. She had never seen him as a potential suitor or mate.

He'd never had a chance.

A month ago that realization would have devastated him. Today, it didn't or not nearly as much as he would have expected it to because he'd had time to think on things after his first conversation with this witch.

"I'm sorry," she murmured and started to pull away. "I shouldn't have done that."

Why was she apologizing? Why was she stopping? Why did she think she shouldn't have done that? Was he doing it wrong? Was he not good enough? He very much thought she should have, and that she should do it again.

Could she read his mind? Did she know what he was thinking?

How embarrassing! Quite rude, too, to be thinking of another witch while one was kissing him rather enthusiastically.

He stopped her from pulling away too far, finding her mouth with his to pick the kiss up where she'd ended it. Lips parted, he wasn't sure if hers were first or his. It didn't matter as they were clearly on the same page and wanted to taste and feel one another as thoroughly as they could.

Oh, yes, he thought as the blood pounded in his ears as they kissed. He could get used to this.

Her lips closed over his lower lip, licking him there and he mirrored her gesture once she finished. They both clearly needed to take a breath.

He drew away from her lips, kissing along her jaw lower to her neck where it and her shoulder met near her collarbone. He sucked and licked there, groaning softly as she moaned at his efforts. He was causing that reaction in her. He felt his body react in response to the sounds she made and the scent of her. The idea that he was doing something that she enjoyed. Here, against her neck her scent was more potent, more arousing. Her hair was brushing against his face, as if caressing him as her hands at his shoulders were doing the same.

"Oh God, Severus, we can't do this. I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have done that," she whispered, her voice sounded husky. Her lips were a bit red and swollen he noticed. And her hair was still caressing his cheek as he nuzzled her neck, almost as if it was encouraging him.

All of these things from kissing him.

She desired him.

He could see in her eyes that she didn't want to stop. With that realization, that knowledge, he stopped being embarrassed at reacting so easily to a kiss seeing how she was affected by it. It was natural, wasn't it? As if he had any idea how it was supposed to work, but certainly they should have that sort of effect on one another.

"Why?"

Was she just trying to talk herself out of kissing him? Was she involved with someone and feeling guilty for doing even just this much with him? Harry or Ron? He remembered she'd talked about them the last time more than a couple of times. Was she playing hard to get? Was it something else entirely? If she doubted whether he wanted to, he could show her very plainly that he did.

"Because," she whispered, sounding breathless and if he wasn't mistaken aroused. "You'll know why soon enough and you'll hate me for doing even this."

"Never," he murmured, finding her ear and suckling on the earlobe for a moment before finding the curve of her ear with his tongue.

He'd never done this before, but that didn't seem to matter. Instinct guided him as far as where on her to kiss and how to do it. Her hair seemed to help, too, granting him access by exposing skin that hadn't been just a second ago.

"I could never hate you, Hermione."

She laughed softly, breath hitching as his tongue seemed to find a spot she liked. He stored that away for future reference (the Saturday they'd meet?) as he worked at the spot with his mouth, tongue, and teeth.

He would find this witch again. He would move heaven and earth to touch and taste her again.

"Oh how I wish that was true."

"You're too good for me to hate," he whispered.

She was smart, obviously capable, resourceful, studious, and attractive. What was there to hate?

"Mm, you say that now."

"Are you not good?"

"Of course I am!"

He chuckled softly, kissing the mark he'd left on her neck. Fuck if seeing it there didn't arouse the hell out of him.

He'd never had reason to leave one before. He ran a finger over it rather proudly. Hell, he'd never even been in the position to leave one before. Of course, no one would know he'd been on the giving end of one but it was still something he took some pride in.

She'd let him mark her!

"Then I couldn't possibly hate you."

Her fingers ran through his hair and he groaned softly at the feel of her touching him. No one touched his hair. Contrary to what Potter, Black, and many others thought, he washed it more frequently than they assumed and adhered to necessary hygiene habits.

It was, however, naturally hopelessly oily and he had yet to find something to circumvent that. His potions work was not conducive to his hair looking presentable most of the time either with its normal appearance. So to have someone touch him, know that he wasn't the greasy Snivellus some called him was nice.

Addicting. He could probably stay right here and let her just do this for hours.

"Feels good," he whispered.

"It's supposed to, I think," she murmured in response, finding his lips again before dipping her mouth lower.

She mirrored what he'd done to her neck to his. It was his turn to groan. His eyes fell closed and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud, though she didn't seem to care. The front of his pants was getting increasingly tighter. Thank Merlin for his robes. If she felt him harden she didn't get mad or push him away.

"You're not sure?"

"Nope," she replied after a minute or two, drawing away from his neck.

"No first-hand knowledge then, Miss Hermione?"

"Don't you know you're not supposed to kiss and tell, Mr. Snape," she said, reaching up a bit to kiss the tip of his nose.

He frowned, drawing away from her at that. What a fool he was! She was making fun of him the same as everyone else did after all.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't," he said sharply.

"Why?"

She pushed on him a bit so he had to draw even further away from her, which was the last thing he wished to do. He was irritated but he still wanted her. Wanted to be close to her. He really didn't want to move away from her, from her warmth and softness.

He might have overreacted. It was a habit. Years of getting made fun of because of his nose and other aspects of his appearance made him sensitive.

"Severus?"

He scoffed. "As if you don't know," he said.

She'd done nothing to this point to indicate she was making fun of or thought badly of anything about him. He was such a fool, overreacting. Pushing the only person who seemed to like him away. The only person who was nice to him.

"No," she said with a frown. "I don't know."

Realization seemed to dawn on her though after a moment. He saw her eyes cloud with anger and then affection.

Affection for him.

A few strands of her hair, grazed along his nose lightly. Tickling him almost, lightening the mood some.

"I can imagine what some have said about your nose," she whispered.

She lifted a hand to his face and touched him, running a finger along his jaw, over his lips and each cheek, caressing both eyebrows, and then moving over his nose when her hair moved out of the way.

"I find it rather distinguished looking. I honestly couldn't imagine you any other way. Now or when I know you. I can understand at our age, though, why it's something others would not view that way."

She reached up and kissed it again. He let her this time. This wasn't a game or a way to get him to lower his guard.

"Please don't ever change anything about you, Severus. You're more than fine the way you are."

"You're not being truthful," he murmured, seeing in her eyes that she was maybe not lying but not being entirely honest.

"The you I know now isn't the nicest person I've encountered," she said, averting her gaze. "And if what I think is correct there is a reason for that. Well, anyway, that's more than I should get into. I just meant physically don't change anything about you. I like you the way you are."

She reached for his left hand, kissing his palm and then his forearm. She ran her thumb over the skin there, sighing softly. She almost sounded reverent and he wondered what about his arm would inspire that. He didn't want her to stop what she was doing though.

Ever.

It felt so good. Too good.

"God there are so many things I wish I could tell you. Ask you. Find out about."

"Ask," he murmured.

"I can't," she said. She lifted her eyes to meet his again. He could see that she really did want to ask. "If you show up Saturday I'll find out then."

"Deal," he said with a nod.

He couldn't imagine what would keep him away from her. Anyone who took and passed ten OWLs was someone he'd be a fool to keep waiting. Or stand up altogether.

"And this wizard you have a crush on? What of him in the meantime?"

She giggled softly, finding his mouth.

"He's not a concern," she said, working her way to his neck again.

He tilted his head a bit, letting her have the access she seemed to desire. She nipped and sucked again. Merlin was she going to give him two love bites?

"Can we just stay like this?"

He hadn't meant to say that aloud. Too late. She obviously heard him.

Would she think he was pathetic? Feel sorry for him?

He didn't really care when it got down to it, because he very much would agree to just stay here with her like this.

"As long as you want," she said when she finally drew away from his neck after licking the spot she'd been focused on one last time.

He sighed. He loved that answer. She wanted to stay! No one had ever chosen to stay with him before. That whooshing feeling in his gut. Was that what feeling desired and wanted did to someone? He had no idea, he'd never felt it before.

As pleasing and tempting as that sounded, he knew they both had things to get to. It sounded as if he was keeping her from something important, regardless of her willingness to stay here to talk to him. The headmaster likely wouldn't want him to be here all day either. He'd suspect something was up, too, if he took too long on this errand.

"I really do need to talk to Madam Pomfrey."

"I know, and I have research to get back to."

"You'd put it off, though?"

"I would," she admitted.

"You are too kind, Hermione."

She was a Gryffindor. He knew it. He felt it in his heart, his soul, that she belonged to the lion's house. He didn't even need to ask for confirmation.

"How do you keep your feelings from the one you care for?"

"You mean that Gryffindor bravery and wearing our feelings openly?"

"That is what I am referring to, yes."

"I think he's a little preoccupied with other things to notice, and I don't think he'd believe I could see him like that for a variety of reasons."

"His loss I hope will be my gain."

"I hope so, too," she murmured.

She kissed him again. She seemed almost not to be able to get enough of him anymore than he could of her. He liked that feeling!

He would definitely be looking for this witch. Come hell or high water he would find her again. He would show up on their Saturday.

"Whatever your task, I wish you luck."

"The same to you, Severus. In everything. You deserve it. I hope to meet your mother one day."

His eyes widened a bit at that statement.

Were they close enough in the future, his future, that meeting his mother would be proper? Then again, he'd committed to meet this witch, Hermione, at some given Saturday that he had no idea when it was. Other than sometime in his future. He could be married by then, and yet he knew that was not so. Hermione didn't strike him as the type who would enter into a relationship with a married wizard. Who would kiss him here and now, today, and ask to meet up with him knowing in her future he was otherwise involved. There was something about her that told him she was not that type of witch.

He slid off the sofa then and stood, offering her his hand to assist her up.

"Actually, I might keep the sofa. I'm hoping my research materials will be given back."

"All right. Good luck, Hermione."

"You, too, Severus."

He leaned down, kissing her before brushing his cheek against hers. He slid his hands to either side of her face. He shook his head slightly as he drew away, seeing a few strands of her hair wrapped around one of his fingers as if it didn't want him to go either.

He really didn't want to leave. He knew he had to, though. She had things to do and he wouldn't have her resenting him for not getting them done. To help her, though. He'd enjoy that he thought, working beside someone who took research as seriously as he did. To have someone competent to compare test scores with, knowing that whoever got the better score earned it and didn't just get lucky.

He sighed.

One day.

He would meet her said Saturday and he would work toward having that. Not just a relationship but a partnership.

With her.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com