A/N: Things you'll probably get from context:

This is somewhat of an alternate universe fic, in that I completely disregard most events in Book 6.

Premises:

Hermione is 16 years old, in her sixth year.

The Dark Lord's forces are still mobilizing.

No Horcrux quest for Harry and Dumbledore. And no Astronomy Tower showdown...because as you'll see, Snape has other things going on.

Hermione and Ron are not romantically interested.

Of course, if you're in this for the romance/sensual bits, I doubt you care much, anyway. ;)

Hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading.

The Practical Examination

"Miss Granger, you're up," Professor Snape snapped.

I tried to wipe my hands discreetly on my gray pleated skirt before rising from my desk. Myra Cross, my partner for the practical exam, joined me at the front of the classroom. She had already graduated Hogwarts and had returned specifically to take this class: Ancient Healing Arts.

I felt lucky that she had been willing to go first, giving me one more chance to see the curative before I attempted it in front of everyone.

I assumed the hunched position of a wizard who'd just been blasted with Hexus Vociferus, the fearsome root of most modern curses. Myra gracefully laid her cool, pale hand on my forehead, brushed back my hair. The other hand, she placed over mine. Her voice was a stream flowing over smooth rocks, soothing and soft. My eyelids lowered. No! It was working too well! Her influence as a wizard was just too strong to resist!

Before I knew it, the spell was over.

"That will suffice, Myra," Snape said.

Suffice? I thought. Ha! Snape was one to be so stingy with his praise. Myra could teach the class better than he could!

Hurriedly, I put those thoughts away. It was my turn now. My heart, calmed from the curative, started hammering away as if to make up for lost time. Myra knelt, bowed her head. Her silken blonde hair spilled over her perfect profile.

I wiped my hands one more time, not caring who saw. I took Myra's hand and pushed back her white-blonde hair. Her skin was simply flawless, I realized with a flash of envy. I needed to ask what charm she was using to keep her face so clear.

The first of the ancient, sacred words came out as a croak. They had been so beautiful in Myra's voice. I sounded like Harry when he had a cold, my voice as cracked as a sidewalk with roots coming through it.

That didn't matter, I told myself. So long as the curative worked. But Myra's eyes weren't closing the way they were supposed to.

Something wasn't right.

Oh. I had my hands opposite. It was supposed to be the right hand on her head.

There, that was better. But now my heart was going so fast, the words vibrated like someone was pounding my back.

Maybe closing my eyes would help. There were seven sacred verses to invoke the curative. I uttered them, faster than I probably should have, endeavoring to slow down with the last three. Then it was over.

When the curative took effect, a ghostly white aura would show around the recipient. Myra didn't look any different. I twisted my hands together, hoping against hope that the aura had formed, that it had just been a small one.

The class gazed back at me with dead stares. No feedback there.

"Did you enter the trance, Miss Cross?" Snape's voice came from over my shoulder. A startled jolt ran through my body. Snape widdened his dark eyes at me, a look I secretly called his crazy eyes. It took me from flinching to frozen in a breath.

Myra gave me a look of apology before saying, "No, Professor."

"Thank you, Miss Cross. Miss Granger. You may take your seats."

Snape glided to the front of the classroom. "It is fortunate that this was a mock practical; the results were even more miserable than I expected. Half of the class failed outright. And those who passed did not do so strongly. You all have work to do if you expect to be ready for next week," he said. "Class dismissed."

I was halfway out of my seat when –

"Miss Granger! I wish to speak with you."

I dragged my leaden feet to the podium. "Yes, Professor?"

"Starting tomorrow, I will be holding nightly tutoring until the exam is over. You should avail yourself of it; you need it. That is all," he said as I continued to stand there, open-mouthed.

His penetrating gaze followed me as I hurried to my desk, then scurried out of the room. I had to get out of there!

Back in my room, a single awarded to me because of my high marks and significant class load, I flopped onto my bed. I could use, I reflected wryly, a curative to restore the smoldering ruin of my dignity.

I was the youngest student in Hogwarts to enroll in Ancient Healing Arts. The other students were seventh years and some returning graduates earning their certificate. Academics had always been my joy, but in this class, I had finally met my match. As of midterm, I was in the lower midsection of the class. My post graduation advisor insisted that I not worry about marks. So long as I completed the class, I was assured a special note in my academic record. But I wanted to be in the top percentile. It wasn't just to match the high standards I had set in the rest of my classes. If my marks were in the top ten percent, I would be eligible to intern at the Ministry of Magic in any department I chose.

In addition to academic distinction, I had...another reason.

At the start of term, I'd had this dream about kissing Snape. I'd laughed about it when I woke up. Snape was so gross in real life, with his pasty skin, greasy black hair, his sneering, scowling face. In the dream, though, he'd been like a movie star. His grating voice had actually sounded oddly melodic.

Then I'd learned that the original Ancient Healing Arts professor had bowed out of the position. Snape had taken over the class, and that's where the trouble started. His hair just didn't look as greasy this term. Now that he wasn't forced to play zookeeper to a bunch of first and second-years, I discovered he was seductively well-spoken. And how had I never noticed his eyes? They were like fathomless pools of midnight mystery. Whenever they met mine, I found myself utterly lost.

I could have dropped Ancient Healing Arts within the first two weeks of term, but I kept on. Did I put myself in this situation just to be near him? I have to admit, on some level, I did.

And now I was stuck with him. I had to get through this practical exam, no matter what! Not only for my own pride but to prove myself to Snape! (Just what that would accomplish, I was unsure, but I knew in my heart, it was very important.)

{***}

According to Snape's message, tutoring was scheduled every night that week after 7 so the working students had time to get to Hogwarts. I hurried back to my dorm after my last class of the afternoon at 4:30. My heart was thumping as I stood in front of the mirror deciding whether to change clothes or do something with my hair.

I laughed softly at myself. It wasn't like I was going on a date with Snape. No, nothing like that. Even if there would be fewer students tonight. It could be a downright cozy gathering...

I'd skip the hair, I decided. It was too frivolous. I would change out of my uniform, though. I might be the youngest in the class, but I didn't have to look it. I went through my closet twice before choosing a pair of dark skinny jeans, a black fitted blouse, and black ballet flats.

There, that was done. Now for more important things. I had papers to finish and exam revisions to do for other all my classes. Yet, I just couldn't seem to concentrate. I kept glancing at the clock, wondering if it were time to hurry to dinner and grab a quick bite before heading for the tiny classroom in the southwest wing of the castle. How was it that Snape's classrooms were always in basements, anyway?

Finally 6:00 arrived. I had planned to leave at 6:15, then decided 6 was close enough. I joined Harry and Ron at our usual table, picking at my plate of shepherd's pie and half-listening to them talk. At 6:45, I set off for the southwest wing.

The Ancient Healing Arts classroom was at the end of a long corridor lit by braziers. In the shadows, the bricks took on a chilly blue cast. The frayed red carpet with its faded gold trim silenced my footsteps. It was always a quiet hall during the day. I had never ventured down it at night, and it seemed deserted now. I would have to be extra careful on my way back to the dorm. Hogwarts had increased their warding spells and even posted guards around the castle entrances. Still, Professor Dumbledore had warned us to beware. The Dark Lord was stirring, and an infiltration of the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was always a possibility.

"Hullo Hermione!"

I jumped at the voice and whirled around. It was Kevin Carter, one of my classmates from Ancient Healing Arts. I'd had no idea he was coming up behind me.

"Oh, hello." I smiled weakly and raised my hand in greeting. "So you're here for tutoring, too, I take it?"

"Yes." Kevin was a portly man with pale skin and a fiery red beard. What hair he had left on his head was cut super short, almost shaved. He worked as Healer in the children's ward of St. Mungo's, something I could understand; His easy-going ways and wide smile always put me at ease. "I've almost got the spell down. One night, maybe two, and I'll have it."

"I wish I could say the same," I murmured.

"Just give it some time, and believe in yourself," Kevin said. "I'm very impressed that you're taking this class in your sixth year. I know I was nowhere near that level when I was your age."

"Thank you." I felt a little better already. We were almost to the classroom. "Would you mind being my partner today? I'd really like for you to tell me what I'm doing wrong."

"Sure!" Kevin held the massive wooden and iron door open for me. Inside, two students, Kim Harker and John Taglia, had already arrived. Kevin and I took a seat next to them. Kevin opened his mouth and let out a long breath. "Nope, can't see it yet." He rubbed his arms. "Think they keep it cold enough in here?"

"That's the chill Snape left behind," John remarked.

Kim and I giggled.

Kevin glared all around. "Miss Granger, what do you find so amusing?" he said, imitating Snape's voice. "There is nothing funny about the Ancient Healing Arts! They are as serious as I am –" He cut off in mid-sentence as hinges squeaked behind us and the door slowly swung open.

Luckily Snape was engrossed in conversation with Myra.

"I do apologize for being late," Myra was saying, breathlessly, as though she had been running. "My last meeting took longer than anticipated."

Snape waved his hand dismissively.

I scowled. There he went, Mr. Double Standards, himself. If I'd been late, he would have subtracted points from Gryffindor and made sure they all knew about it. A brief stab of jealousy caught me in the chest. What if he found her attractive?

"Good evening," Snape greeted us from the podium. "Tonight you will work with partners on the practical. I will observe you and explain specific areas that need improvement."

"Professor Snape," I called out. "Kevin and I have already decided to work together."

"Need I remind you who the professor in this class is?" Snape growled.

Inwardly, I seethed at myself. I should have kept my mouth shut. I was just so anxious for this evening to go right.

"Miss Harker. Mr. Taglia." Snape waved at Kim and John as though they were moths fluttering around his face. "Mr. Carter and Miss Cross." He would put Kevin with Myra. I seethed. But more importantly...

"Who does that leave for me?" I demanded, my face flaming, despite the icy dungeon air.

Snape glided toward me.

"No. Oh no," I murmured. It took every ounce of my self control not to bolt from the classroom. Answering Snape's questions in class was difficult enough, especially when he left the podium to loom over my desk. When he was near me, it was like all my thoughts turned to unintelligible radio static.

I can do this, I tried to reassure myself. I've been over the pronounciation every chance I get: in the bath, right before bed, waiting for Harry and Ron in the dining hall. I've even practiced holding Crookshanks – well, until he scratched me. But my pillow was pretty close.

A real person would have been better, of course. But how could I tell the girls in my dorm, or even my best friends Harry and Ron, that something academic was beating me?

"Miss Granger."

I jumped. Snape had moved so close to me that I could feel his body heat.

"Have I finally stumbled on a concept you can't grasp?"

I glared at him. Then to my surprise, he knelt before me. Scenes from romantic movies and jewelry ads shot through my mind.

Merlin's beard. I was actually going to touch my professor. I fought recollections of my dream. Although I knew it was critical to concentrate on the curative, my mind was already committing every second of this awkward situation to long-term memory. So much for priorities.

I shoved back Snape's hair, let my hand rest against the surprisingly warm, smooth skin of his forehead. (I suppose I had expected him to feel slimy like a toad.)

When I took his hand in mine, my heart sped up so fast, I was certain I'd been given away. Snape only murmured, "Are your hands always so swampy, Miss Granger?"

Despite the chaos in my head, my prior practice had paid off. I uttered the seven ancient verses with only a few tremors in my voice.

Still there was no aura. And Snape's eyes were wide and alert; the thought of trance hadn't even entered his mind, I could tell. "Excuse me for a minute, Miss Granger." Snape disengaged from my awkward almost-embrace. "Let me take some time to assist the other students and think about what your problem might be."

This couldn't end well. While I waited, I narrowed down Snape's conclusion to two options. First, that he was going to tell me I was just too young for such difficult subject matter and needed more fundamental classes and experience as a witch in general. The second, much worse alternative was that he had finally sniffed out my crush on him. Who knew how he'd hold that over me?

Miserably, I watched Kevin and Myra demonstrate for him. There had to be something I could do. Maybe Kevin could give me a bit of his wisdom, even if we hadn't worked together. If I couldn't pass, I'd get as close as I could, I decided. The determination gave me a flicker of hope. However, it died quickly as I observed that Kevin didn't seem to be doing anything differently with Myra than I had. Even the pronounciation was the same. But for him, the aura appeared.

What was wrong with me?

Would I have done any differently tonight if I had worked with Kevin instead of Snape?

"You've cast the spell successfully, Mr. Carter," Snape said. "If you can do so again on Monday, you will pass the practical examination."

Kevin smiled broadly. "Thank you, sir. I'm sure I can."

"Excellent." How different Snape's smile was in comparison: cynical and slightly sinister. "Then there is no need for you to come to any further tutoring sessions."

A sinking feeling entered my stomach. It was good that Kevin had ironed out the issues he needed to with the spell. Still, I couldn't shake the sense that he was leaving me.

"I will hold another tutoring session tomorrow evening here at the same time," Snape addressed our small gathering. "You are welcome to attend...or not. Either way, Miss Granger and I will be here."

My cheeks hot with embarrassment, I waited for the others to leave before approaching him. "Professor Snape," I said.

He didn't look up from loading his books into his satchel.

"Why can't you tell me what I've done wrong tonight? Surely it can't be that complicated; I've been over every aspect of the spell countless times. And, I have a great deal of work to prepare for my finals."

"What makes you think, Miss Granger, that I'm thrilled to spend my evenings with an insufferable know-it-all?"

Coming from anyone but Snape, it would be a valid question. What did he do at night and on the weekends, anyway? I pictured him reading old tomes or performing Potions experiments.

"Why did you insist I come, then?" I said. "Why not just fail me and gloat about it as you no doubt want to do?"

Snape's usual sour expression flashed into fury. I took a step back from him. "I don't know why this spell is eluding you!" he snarled. "The Hermione Granger I've taught in the past ought to have mastered it weeks before now," he continued, more softly.

I couldn't speak. I was just too mortified. I felt every limitation of being 16 years old with a massive, immature teacher crush.

Snape motioned me to the door. His hand lightly brushed the small of my back as he ushered me through.

"Good night, Miss Granger."

{***}

The next night, the classroom was empty when I arrived. It remained deserted until Snape entered. My heart, already in a state of quiet agitation, leaped into my throat. I barely dared to speak, fearing my voice would tremble and give me away.

"Show me the spell again, Miss Granger," Snape instructed, without so much as a good evening.

Oh no. I was utterly unprepared for this. He wasn't even speculating on what he thought I had done wrong. I hesitated. Snape was already kneeling in the same spot Myra had for the mock practical.

"What are you waiting for?" His glare was like a slap across the face.

I couldn't answer him. I dragged my feet to his side and let my fingers slip through his inky-dark hair. A tingle crept through my hand. Snape's fingers remained limp in my slightly-shaking clasp. Again I recited the words I had practiced so many times before. They were beautiful, I had often thought while trying to contort my mouth to form the syllables. If only they weren't beyond my reach. I spoke the last words with my eyes closed. I didn't need them open to know that there had been no aura. Tears burned my eyelids. With a monumental effort, I pushed them back. Opening my eyes, I found Snape staring at me. For just an instant, it seemed like I read something in my professor's face, completely removed from his usual cynicism, impatience, and irritation. But I could no sooner articulate what it was than make this spell work.

"I see what your problem is." Snape rose gracefully to his feet without extending a hand to me. "Technically you did everthing right. But let me ask you something, Miss Granger. Were you believing in your own abilities?"

"What does that have to do with anything? In my experience, doing everything 'technically right' makes the magic work," I said.

"In that, you have overlooked something important. There are many types of magic. The Ancient Healing Arts are older than wands. The magic comes from within the caster."

I remembered reading these facts from our textbook introduction. At the time, the implication hadn't been clear to me. "But...you can't make yourself feel a certain way," I murmured.

"May I suggest that you take a long, searching look within yourself? If you don't, you'll find yourself facing failure for the first time in your life," Snape said in a voice as pitiless as winter.

{***}

Somehow I made it to the library, though I don't remember how I got there. Snape's words had cut, deeply, into a wound I hadn't even known I had. School had always been so easy for me. Part of the appeal of Ancient Healing Arts was the challenge it posed, how important adult wizards used it to enhance their careers and the lives of others in the wizarding community. I didn't know much about the world outside Hogwarts. I was still just a 6th year. Surely I was capable of more than just studying...

"It's Hermione!" a voice announced. I emerged from my musings to see Harry at a table with Ron, Neville, and Dean Thomas. "If anyone'd know, she would!"

I spent the next hour helping them with our Potions final. I felt considerably better after, seeing their smiles, watching their faces brighten, reassured that they would pass their upcoming tests. They left a little after nine. I decided to stay in the library, since I didn't feel sleepy. The lamplight and shadows on the books was comforting, and I just couldn't think any more about the healing arts tonight.

Predictably, I lost myself in a book (actually several). It was eleven o'clock before I started back to the Gryffindor dorm. This would be the last night I could do this, I told myself. My first final was the day after tomorrow.

I crossed long stretches of faintly-lit halls and winding flagstone stairs, growing increasingly uneasy with every minute. If I encountered Argus Filch, I could simply tell him I had been researching in the library, I tried to reassure myself. My foreboding continued to grow, and I began to walk faster.

Lights up and down the hall flickered. Something darted in front of me, only to vanish into the shadows at the side of the hall. I froze and bit back a gasp. Dumbledore's refrain from many morning announcements came back to me with chilling clarity. "Dark times have come to the Wizarding World. We at Hogwarts will take all the precautions we can, but you must know that anything can happen. Our enemy is cunning and determined. Don't walk alone."

I drew out my wand.

My enemy, three wizards robed and hooded in gray, hissed and stepped out of the shadows.

"Petrificus totalus!" I shouted, only to find myself immobilized. Somehow, they had thrown my spell back at me! The impact made me sway, then topple to the floor. There I lay, helpless, while they advanced. Run! Run! My heart beat frantically. The three gray figures advanced, their wands held toward me.

"Sectumsempra!"another voice shouted. The wizards were flung from my field of view; neither willpower nor effort could free me to see what had happened to them or who my rescuer was. The most I could discern was bodies hitting the walls and groans. Then the hem of a black robe came closer to me. Its wearer knelt; the wandlight revealed...Professor Snape?!

"Finite incantatem," he murmured.

With those words, feeling returned to my limbs. I struggled to a sitting position, my limbs shaking. My attackers lay on the floor in various states of twitching misery. "Professor," I whispered. Before I could thank him, one of the gray-robed wizards pointed at Snape and spat gutteral, ancient words I could not understand. Snape sank to his knees beside me, his face twisted with pain.

The spell caster gave a last gurgling laugh.

Panic shot through me. Whoever the wizard was, he had used his last breath to curse Snape!

I lurched toward the fallen professor and dropped to my knees. My hands shook. I wanted to run for help. My head swam from panic that threatened to make me faint from its intensity. Snape's body convulsed, nearly knocking me backwards. The curse was too swift! By the time help came back for him, it would be too late!

I knew one spell that would save him: the curative that I couldn't cast.

But I had to. It was Snape's last and only hope.

I shut my eyes. Please come, magic. I need you.

Everything had to fade away: the dimly-lit hallway that seemed to stretch into eternity in both directions, the enemy wizards, my fear and reservations, even Snape himself.

The magic and my need for it were everything.

The words I had practiced so many times came to my lips. For an instant, they were lines I had over-rehearsed and would now speak from my usual rote. Then they turned to gibberish, the way a familiar word will when said incessantly.

Please come back! For this man's sake, not my own!

And then I knew. The curative wasn't about the caster's glory. First and always, its purpose was for saving another person. Could that be how the older students had understood it first, because they had spouses, children, and in Kevin's case, patients to protect?

I opened my eyes, and saw...!

An aura around Snape, pale silver and gold like the thinnest thread-trails of winter clouds. As my professor stirred, I knew he would be alright. We hadn't discussed it much in the context of the practical because the people we were casting it on weren't really cursed. However, I remembered from the text that a successful spell would give insight to the condition of the person being healed.

"Miss Granger, are you hurt?" There was something off about Snape's voice; it was an imitation of his usual effortless detachment.

"No." I couldn't hold back my tears. "I'm just so glad you're alright," I choked out, throwing my arms around him.

For a wonder, his arms settled around my shoulders. We remained that way for a long time: him silent and still while I sobbed. Finally I had no more tears. With raw, aching insides, I drew back from my professor and dared to meet his eyes. His stony mask had fallen away; a tenderness I had never seen before softened his face, brought light to the previously inscrutable darkness in his eyes.

"Come back to the classroom with me," he said. "I have set protective wards there. It will be safer to talk."

I expected Snape wanted to say "I told you so" or something related to my casting the curative on him. Instead...

"Your concern for me is surprising," he said with a trace of his old wry wit.

My gaze dropped to the row of buttons marching up his chest. A shudder rocked my body. He was dangerously close to the truth. "It surprised me, too." My attempt at repartee emerged as the driest of whispers.

"Did it?" Snape stepped back and tilted his head, appraising me with his most probing gaze. "I always wondered why you seemed so afraid of me this year. I've never liked you, Miss Granger, but that never stopped you from standing up to me. Suddenly this year, you could barely say a word to me."

Twin fires started in my cheeks and spread all the way to my jaw and ears. And just like that, my voice was gone. Not that it would have helped much. The effort of bringing forth intelligent words and uttering them in a firm, clear voice was unthinkable in the face of Snape's burning scrutiny.

Snape moved so close his lips brushed my ear. "It all makes sense now."

Suddenly he drew me to him with a touch both delicate and strong. His lips savored mine. I melted into his kiss, into his body. For a moment he drew back. His eyes mirrored all the longing in mine. Snape let his hand drift across my face, brush my hair. This gentle interlude gave way to a more passionate kiss. I moaned as Snape's tongue entered my mouth. I gripped his robes; the flesh beneath them was warm. I could feel his subtle yet hard muscles so different from my own. His hands had begun an exploration of my body, too, caressing and squeezing my back, my hips, lower still. I gasped.

Snape moved his mouth to my neck, attacked the sensitive skin there with his teeth and lips. His desire was so raw, so rough. It thrilled me more than any dream or fantasy I'd ever had. I wanted him; I wanted every minute of this. With deft fingers, he undid my blouse. In the cold air, my nipples jumped to attention. Snape pinched one through my bra, then the other. I bit down hard on my lower lip. He smirked at my reaction as he cupped my breasts in his hands. The dungeon air was chilly, but his touch was warm, so warm!

My own hands started down his waist. Snape gave a strangled gasp. At the same time, my watch beeped to mark the hour.

"You're not supposed to have that, Miss Granger." Snape chuckled softly as he seized my wrist. "It's late," he said. "You should go back to your dorm."

I didn't want to. But I couldn't risk getting caught, not after how far we'd come.

By an unspoken agreement, Snape and I made our way down the dark halls together. We did not touch or even speak. All the while, I soared on the memories of what had happened between us and thrilled at the times his shoulder or hand brushed mine.

At the portrait of the Fat Lady, Snape and I stopped. His eyes were even darker in the torchlight, shadows and desire increasing their depths. His gaze was as intimate as any touch. Heat rose in my face, traveled to the skin beneath my clothes. Snape smirked, or maybe it was a smile for him. I tried to smile, too, only to turn away, shyness overtaking me at the last minute.

When I looked up, Snape was several torches away. I waited until I could no longer see him before speaking the password.

The cozy fireplace, banners, and comfortable red chairs of the Gryffindor common room were just as I had left them, and yet, everything had changed while I had been away.

In the embers, I saw the unfinished mystery of what Snape and I had begun tonight. What, I wondered, would it be like to sit in front of the fire with him, to continue where we had left off? Perhaps one day I would know.

I slept well that night.

{***}

The next day during breakfast, Dumbledore announced the capture of the Dark Lord's mercenaries. He never mentioned Professor Snape or me. I couldn't tell from looking at him whether Snape had told the Headmaster.

"Yesterday's intruders were stopped before anyone got hurt," Dumbledore said. "Since there is less than a week left this term, we will finish it. For the safety of our students and staff, we will double our guards and set curfews immediately after dinner. Any students who have early exams will be encouraged to return home."

"What about next term, Professor?" a student called out.

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes. It was the first time I had seen him look so tired...and old. "That remains to be seen. We will inform you by owl post."

Again I looked to Snape. I couldn't seem to stop. I'd see him one more time at least, for the practical that I was finally confident I would pass. And beyond that? A war could close Hogwarts. We might never see each other again.

A thrill ran through me as Snape's eyes met mine. He saw. He knew!

Nothing was for certain. Still I dared to hope for more, for us. And I knew in his eyes I saw the same.

To be continued?