A/N: Because a few folks have commented on this particular plot line surrounding Severus Snape and the pain of dealing with the aftermath of the snake bites, and in case any other readers out there are searching for more stories along these lines, feel free to check out my on-going Unquestionable Love series, of which the original story in particular (but some of the others as well) centres around this AU scenario. /end of shameless self-plug/

Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed and followed this little story along to its conclusion. Here's the final installment and, well, this chapter is why I had to go with an M rating.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox. No money, just fun.

Chapter 3: Healing and Love

Hermione yelped and halted in her tracks, unexpectedly needing to stabilise her footing. Fractured, uneven stone in the sidewalk had sent her nearly tripping sideways into the street. No muggle vehicles were coming or going, but slamming her face into pavement wouldn't have been an all too thrilling way to start her day with her 'date'.

It's not a date! Um...right?

With a flush of embarrassment, Hermione hurriedly glanced from left to right, finding (thankfully) that the street was deserted, save for a few billowing chimneys that suggested life existed in these parts. The two Styrofoam cups she was carrying almost spilt during her mishap, their contents practically ruined had Hermione not just managed to right them, along with her clumsy legs, at the last possible second. She cursed under her breath, straightened her flustered self out, and continued her cautious meandering up the steady incline, keeping a watchful eye out for a certain address.

Not a good way to start this off, Hermione. Not. At. All. And why are you nervous anyhow? Focus!

A seemingly endless series of brick row-homes lined both sides of the street, their curtains drawn and windows dirtied or fogged up. Cokeworth, which Hermione had conveniently transported herself to by way of Apparation seconds ago, didn't leave much of an impression on her. It appeared to be a small, run-down, forgotten town, with old muggle houses nestled around a crumbling factory viewable at the top of the hill.

In the distance, a few dogs howled, setting the eerie quietude of this sleepy village. Stray cats scurried across the road in front of Hermione, scattering from house to house in search of left over garbage from the bins. The area was depressing, frankly, and Hermione honed all of her attention on locating Severus Snape's home as swiftly as possible. The cold was becoming more and more biting against her exposed skin, and the dreary skies above suggested that the chance of rain was imminent. She had no wish to get caught in a downpour when she had gone to some efforts today to look fetching for her appointment.

Appointment, Hermione, her anxious mind stressed. Appointment, remember?

As Hermione crossed to the next block, she was beginning to wonder if she was on the wrong street entirely when an imposing figure, clad in black and unmistakable, emerged onto his front stoop some three houses away. Hermione brightened and quickened her pace. Her insides were a sudden ricocheting ball of nerves, and she couldn't quite figure out why. Severus Snape hadn't been very specific about their get-together on the phone, but that didn't imply that this was anything more than a meet up...did it?

Nonsense! You're meeting to discuss his treatment, Hermione. That's your nerves again. Get a hold of yourself!

Pushing that disconcerting thought to the back of her mind, Hermione made, instead, to study her patient's outward appearance as she shuffled closer. He looked markedly better than the last time she had seen him, only a few days prior. There was a little more colour to his cheeks and, unless she was grossly mistaken, he appeared to be smiling, though it was tough to tell with his curtain of hair flopped forward and somewhat concealing the shape of his mouth. The expression in his eyes, too, was as confounding to decode as ever.

"You found the place all right, I trust?" he inquired once she had reached the front of his place, which appeared as bleak from the outside as all of the others on this street. He stepped down the three or four steps to politely take the Styrofoam cups from Hermione's hands.

She willingly obliged, nodded, and resized the satchel that was slung over one of her shoulders. She thought she caught those midnight irises glimmering for a moment at her but concluded that it might have just been her imagination; or the short break in the clouds. "Yes!" she exclaimed happily, forcing down her jitters. "No problems at all."

They stared on, hesitant to look away but not necessarily knowing what to do next. Fighting the anxiety manifesting within, Hermione made the first move in greeting. It was utterly foolish to be so on edge, she determined, and, seeing as she was on fairly even terms with the wizard these days, what could it hurt? She stepped forward, raised herself onto tiptoe, and pressed a feathery kiss to one of Severus's cheeks. She caught his flicker of surprise and drew back, noticeably blushing. Perhaps that had been too forward.

Well done, Hermione! Wanting to brush past that bit of awkwardness as quickly as possible, Hermione asked in haste, "How are you, Severus?"

"I'm, erm, well, thank you," he croaked out, apparently still recovering from her friendly salutation. He grunted to settle his voice. "And you?"

"Delighted to be here."

Severus's normally harsh expression softened at that. "Thank you for coming."

"Oh, it was my pleasure!"

Hermione was grateful when Severus finally whirled around and retreated towards the front door, prompting her to follow. "Come in," he entreated over his shoulder. "Feel free to drop your things wherever you'd like."

Severus noiselessly shut the door behind Hermione once she entered his home. Her eyes were too busy squinting, trying to make out her darkened surroundings, to take another step farther out of the foyer and into the long, narrow hallway. Severus's next words recaptured her attention, however. "May I take your coat?"

"Oh! Yes, thank you."

A gentle skimming of Severus's fingertips gracing over the nape of her neck stopped Hermione cold. She froze in place, every hair coming to stand on end. That mystifying spark, felt previously in Hermione's office—and which she hadn't been able to get out of her mind since—coasted over her once more as Severus effortlessly drew her coat off of her shoulders and down her arms.

After gathering her wits, Hermione turned around and saw him placing it on a hanger, his wiry hands lingering on the material for a split moment longer than was probably necessary, and cocked her head. A theory had been formulating in her mind in recent days, ever since they had first physically come into contact with each other, but she was far from ready to expose it yet. Rather, she was hoping that the wizard's own behaviour today would confirm—or (regrettably) contradict—the strength of her hypothesis.

"You shouldn't have," his rough, deep voice cut into Hermione's musings. He was regarding the Styrofoam cups she had brought and whiffing at the steam rising from the hole in the lids. They had been hanging in the air whilst he took her coat but were now safely back in his hands. His subtly gratifying expression indicated that he recognised the tea as one of her own creations and that was pleasing to capture for herself.

"This is a slightly different blend," Hermione explained, with a wider smile. "I figured you might get sick of the other one before too long. Besides, we should try various kinds and see how you fare with them."

The right corner of Severus's mouth minimally tugged upward. "That's kind of you."

"Oh, Severus, it's not a bother at all. It's my job."

"Right... Of course."

For a fleeting moment, their fingers ghosted over each other as Severus handed one of the cups back to Hermione. The exchange felt nerve-wracking, exciting in a manner that Hermione wasn't sure was approachable yet,—If at all! her frantic conscience called to mind—and certainly not until she was assured of Severus's sentiments.

Thus, Hermione willed the reaction away as best as she could. She couldn't read the man's façade, only deduce that his demeanour was becoming more and more relaxed with each passing moment.

Severus's gaze suddenly broke from hers. He turned and stepped into the corridor off of the stairs, where a warded door to his right opened at his wordless command. A few stray, untidy hairs fell into his eyes when he glanced Hermione's way, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter against her will.

"Please follow me," he encouraged softly. "We can talk in my library."

"Oh! All right."

Cradling her cup of tea, Hermione's hungry eyes swept past an unlit, dull palette of a parlour room to her left and an unidentifiable room at the far end of the hall in favour of the wizard's personal library, all too eager for what they would find. She was easily overcome once she stepped inside.

The room expanded once Hermione entered, the wards lifting to reveal its inspiring scope and size, and she let out several audible gasps. Severus Snape's massive library may just have rivalled Hogwarts'. Stacks upon stacks of book shelves lined every wall space, jutting out to many rows across the expansive room, and towered several feet above their heads. Some tomes were in the midst of re-stacking themselves as Hermione stepped towards the centre and made a complete circle, intent on not missing a single detail.

Near the opposite wall was a handsome oak desk in front of a single window, as well as a couple leather chairs, a sofa, and a charmed fireplace. Hermione was so engrossed with the space that she hadn't realised how much she was openly snooping until Severus spoke again, bringing her senses round. "You can borrow that one if it suits your fancy."

Hermione jumped back, suddenly aware that she was looming over the wizard's desk and examining one of his books that was splayed out in plain view. "Oh! I - I'm sorry," she stammered, blushing to the roots of her hair. "That was rude of me. I didn't mean to—"

"Not at all." She thought he smirked, but the enticing visual faded too fast for Hermione to commit it to memory. "These are second-hand muggle books I picked up in Tewkesbury yesterday on the apparent medical benefits of varying tea extracts. I thought I might find something useful in them to explain my relieving symptoms with the tea you've made." He provided her a curt, encouraging nod. "Please, help yourself."

With a relieved smile, Hermione moseyed sheepishly back to where she had been and put down her cup. She grabbed the highest tome in the scattered pile of books and began to peruse the first few pages that were opened to her. The book smelled wonderfully dated, and yet, there was another scent that was warm and catching that had nothing to do with the text itself. Hermione soon realised, with another severe blush, that the fragrance she recognised belonged to her patient.

Severus, unmindful of this private observance, took the short silence that followed to sample Hermione's latest tea blend, eying the witch considerately over the lid of his cup all the while. The sudden, pretty pink tint to her cheeks was compelling, and his heart thumped a tick faster at its emergence. This isn't a ruddy date, Severus, he reminded himself, and somewhat sorely, as he admired her from the opposite side of the room. Adding to the witch's stirring effect on him was the strangely peculiar hip-hugging jeans, grey booties, and v-shaped, yellow sweater Hermione was wearing rather than the formal outfits he was accustomed to seeing her in.

It was a welcoming observance from where he stood, with his back leaning comfortably against one of the stacks. Severus had just peered down into his cup to take another sip when Hermione's eyes switched to him. Their intense gazes reconvened, and Severus was a touch unnerved to find Hermione appraising him in the same contemplative manner he had been doing moments before. She slowly closed the book and, in typical Granger-like fashion, hugged it to her chest. Her satchel was still draped over her left shoulder, too.

"You seem to have narrowed down the roots and herbs I used without me telling you so," she remarked moments later, her smooth brow furrowing.

"You sound surprised?"

"Not really, but..." Her words trailed off, leaving Severus to angle his head and wait. Hermione lowered her eyes, feeling an uneasy heat trickling up her neck, and when she felt somewhat able to look at him again, she bashfully raised her head. "I find myself a tad confused as to why I'm here?"

Hermione was relieved when the man's thin mouth twisted slightly at the edges, enticing her. "I consider it my objective to know what exactly I'm dealing with. I thought we should discuss these matters in person."

"Right..." She still sounded uncertain, but it was her turn to smirk. "Cheeky, Professor."

"Not anymore," he deadpanned. Hermione stilled, propelling Severus to inch away from the book shelf and take a step closer to her, grasping his cup of tea in one hand. "I was right then?" he probed after a brief pause.

The question caught Hermione off guard. "Come again?"

"About the ingredients."

"Oh!" Realising that she was still clutching his book, Hermione tried to put it down without fumbling. She failed miserably and slammed it on top of the others louder than she had intended. When she turned around to face him, some of her confidence from earlier had waned. She was also a shade brighter in the face. "Close," she answered, and Severus arched a provoking eyebrow. She smiled, tapped the book cover behind her, and stated gently, "Finger root, not green ginger."

"Ahhh, I see..." His murmur was settling, soft, even a touch impressed. "Clever."

Hermione's smile stretched. "I hope you mean that, sir."

"I do." He bowed his head with reassurance.

"'Cause you didn't used to."

Severus's advancement stalled but for a moment, his dark eyes ostensibly game as they shimmered against a cursory fragment of light reflected by the window behind his guest. "With all due respect, you were a nuisance back then."

"Ahhh...but not anymore."

A quiver of acknowledgment—lively, yet passive—passed between them, much like whispers of unspoken incantations that could be sensed from each other but not heard by the human ear. They each stared without blinking, supposedly waiting on the other to initiate the next move.

With a bit of fresh conviction and another vivacious grin, Hermione was the first to tear her gaze from Severus's in order to retrieve something from inside her satchel. In the short span of time that it took her to withdrawal a file Severus, at once, recognised—the thick patient chart the witch had been writing down notes about him in for weeks—he was standing closer to her than ever, near enough to touch but not infringing upon Hermione's personal space.

Hermione started, her re-established poise displaced. "I, erm, brought all my notes with me, in - in case you wished to go over them?" she proposed, tense, as Severus's sable irises seemed intent to draw her in. "You've had some re - remarkable changes in the past few days. Perhaps it's best if we..."

"Yes?" he quietly pressed when Hermione didn't expound her unfinished thought.

All of sudden, Hermione felt tongue tied. She watched as Severus eased forward, every small movement careful and precise, and realised that she could no longer breathe. From this angle, she could more easily admire the man's surprisingly long eyelashes. How had she not noticed them before? She blinked several times and unconsciously licked her lips when the recognition would not disappear.

"That - That's why I'm here, isn't it? To discuss your progress?" she stressed, questioned, despising the uncharacteristically feeble delivery of her own voice.

"Quite," came his returning reply, even tamer than hers.

By now, Hermione's nerves had completely immobilised her. She stared helplessly up at her professor-turned patient, who had consumed her thoughts almost every waking moment for longer than she dared express to what would surely be the wizard's own horror, and prayed like mad that her instincts weren't about to turn her into the biggest fool.

"I'm sorry," she professed in a tantalising, trembling whisper, "was - was I mistaken about our...meeting?"

To her breathless astonishment, Hermione, at last, glimpsed a full smile from him. "Only a little."

His confession was suggestive, holding a tint of amusement to its conveyance that stopped Hermione's heart. His voice, too, sounded still rough to her sharp hearing but not as painfully hoarse as during their last encounter.

The professional side of her brain had just connected that joyous revelation to the rest of her preoccupied mind when, in a whirlwind, everything spun upside down: her vision, her tumbling thoughts, her invigorated heartbeats...

A pair of warm, stunningly petal-soft lips touched hers, shy but wishful. Hermione's heart all but bounded into her throat and she might have made a strangled noise against Severus's mouth, and yet, the spine-tingling sensations that spread like a stream through the rest of her body stunted all rational thought and behaviour. She pounced back against his mouth, lips zealously pushing for more of his taste, matching his appetite for further exploration.

It was mere seconds before Hermione had sunk much of herself into him, feeling weightless, airless, as though she was levitating towards the stars. Unbeknownst to her, she was caught by a sturdy arm which wrapped around her back, keeping her snug and secure and, most importantly, close.

Hermione could hardly believe it. Was this really happening? Bugger all, she could barely fathom the fact that she was sharing a kiss with none other than Severus Snape. We're snogging! her mind kept screaming in sheer delight. We're actually snogging! In his library? Goodness, is that...? Is his hand on my tit? Ohhh...but he smells and tastes so fucking good! Yes! Again!

Just as she was being overtaken by a series of lustful emotions that rivalled a violent Quidditch match of epic proportions, ranging from alarm to desire to panic to enrapture, their heated, passionate exchange was over as speedily as it had begun. The oddity of a steaming liquid substance began burning Hermione's chest. She lurched back, forcing their lips apart, and cried out. Severus was busy cursing and summoning something with his wand as it dawned on Hermione that he had unintentionally spilt hot tea all down her front.

Before she could properly assess the damage, however, Severus was sputtering an assortment of apologies and dabbing at her bosom with a handkerchief. Hermione jerked and tried to push his fidgety hands away, though to little effect.

"It's all right, really! It's all right!" she insisted, but he fought her efforts.

"I'm such a bloody klutz! Here, let me—"

"No, no, no! Really, it's fine!"

"No, it's not! I can't believe I was so dunce—"

"Wait." Hermione grasped Severus hard by both wrists and stared into his contorted, coloured expression, her own irises a sudden blaze of awareness. Their gazes locked, timid, yet aroused, acutely aware of the other's heavy breathing. If it was possible to perceive the other's furious heartbeats as well, the recognition would have surfaced upon their stunned, riveted faces. "You could've used a drying spell," she blurted out, eyes narrowing as they bore into his.

Severus reared back, his cheeks blotting with evermore mortification. The witch wouldn't lessen her grip, however, no matter how much he tugged for her to set him free. "I wasn't... I didn't... Miss Granger," he reverted to her surname with a defensive growl, trying to recover from said blunder, "I wasn't think—"

Severus found himself saved from what would have been a most humiliating explanation by the brazen young witch's next unexpected advance: Hermione threw herself at him, this time engaging his mouth with hers without timorous modesty or uncertainty as he had shown but with absolute rapture and certitude. She yanked his hands against her sweater—against her heaving, perfectly round breasts—and drove their heated bodies together, clearly aching and desperate to be touched.

"Miss Granger!" Severus inserted, flabbergasted, between several feverish kisses, "I really think we ought to—"

"Go ahead," she goaded, urging their lips apart for a moment.

Severus hadn't realised that she was clutching him by his robes until she let go and stepped back, knocking him off kilter. "What?" His voice was slight, an octave higher than before. He gaped as Hermione began disrobing in front of him.

Hermione lugged her tea-soiled sweater over her head. It slipped to the ground somewhere unnoticed. Her lush curls tumbled all around her face, beautifully framing her delightful, freckled features, rose-tinted cheeks, and slim shoulders. Much to Severus's astonishment, she was beaming from ear to ear, and it was then that he noticed that her lips were puffy from their fervid snogging.

"Kiss me, Severus," she breathed, moaned rather; Severus stared on, stumped, and yet, awakened, the only flinch of movement being his crinkled brow. "Touch me. Oh, go on! Touch. Me."

A shaky grunt escaped Severus's throat. "Erm, Miss Granger, are you sure—?"

"Severus," she implored, and the stammering wizard ceased to speak. Standing before him in her white-laced bra and jeans, Hermione closed the minuscule gap between them and brought their faces nose to nose. "When will you learn to call me Hermione?"

"I..." Severus's mouth dropped open. Stirred by the witch's gutsy display, and the high probability that she really did lust for more of him, a modest smile—a fragment of hope—slowly framed his lips. "Now?" he offered forth, his voice hushed and countenance heartened by how Hermione's regard continued gleaming up at him.

Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed Hermione again, his lips pressing gently but keenly, utterly ecstatic with how she responded back. He groaned lowly into her mouth and she echoed his gnawing needs, his yearning fancies that hadn't the temerity to be uttered before but were now finding their courage.

The feeling of being weightless lapped over Hermione once more. She floated with ease into Severus's arms, consumed, and was effortlessly picked up and carried a few steps to the desk behind her. Somehow, the books previously occupying Severus's reading station were dispersed, though Hermione was too preoccupied clasping to him to pay much attention to the whens or hows, yanking at pieces of his hair, pulling on the back of his neck to strengthen their lip-locking, stroking a sunken cheek, and wrenching uselessly at the buttons on the front of Severus's coat to undo their aggravatingly tight clasps. He sprawled her over top of his desk, spread her legs wide, and sunk his heat into hers, their bodies' urge to converge inconveniently separated by unwanted fabric.

Hermione felt the wizard's spindly digits unzip her jeans and slink inside her knickers, where they fondled between her folds and circled her clit. Dizzy, she let out a strangled cry and pounded the back of her head against the wood, her lower half vigorously pushing into Severus's hand, spurring him on.

"I have a theory," came an unexpected purr next to her ear.

Hermione raised her head and moaned as he nipped at a portion of her earlobe, her greedy hands scrambling for a zipper or buttons to unfasten Severus's trousers. Cursing her inability to quickly obtain what she sought, Severus helped the grumbling witch along, the soft chuckles he emitted as he did so coursing an inviting shiver down her spine. Hermione leaned back to stare into his face and breathed, with an unflappable smile, "Me, too."

That was as far as they got in discussing their conjectures, however, for Severus then entered Hermione, nestled himself snug and warm within her tight walls, and drove them hard and harmoniously until both were clawing, fighting for breath, and crying out in ecstasy.

"It's a good thing I brought you extra!"

Severus smirked at Hermione's light-hearted laughter, watching her slide away from him from his spot on a fine couch in front of the fireplace, the crackling embers every so often breaking the agreeable stillness that had configured between them. He could get used to this stirring visual of Hermione Granger...if he so dared.

Unawares of the wizard's quiet appraisal, and wearing nothing at all but for his sweeping robes, Hermione shimmied over to her satchel, which had been strewn across the floor a few feet from Severus's desk. The stark garb trailed on the ground behind her as she walked, her short, petite stature practically drowning in the material, but she didn't seem to mind all that much.

What was there to grouse about, after all? The two had gone at it like rabbits on Severus's desk an hour ago before disrobing themselves entirely and moving on to shag a second time on his carpet in front of the glowing hearth. Each mind-blowing copulation had been bloody spectacular, and Severus still hadn't quite worked out how they ended up on his floor; he vaguely recalled Hermione attempting to engage him in more elaborate discussions about these undisclosed theories they were devising about his miraculous healing shortly after their first round. Severus had swiftly lost track of what Hermione was rambling on and on about, however, too smitten with those swollen, delectable lips of hers that he was determined to taste again. And again and again his wish was granted.

Glimpses of Hermione's breasts and creamy white legs teased him from between the gaps in his robes, and Severus found his eyes unable to admire anything else but the fetching woman with the ferocious curls idly standing in the middle of his library. Is this real? he couldn't help but wonder. Even as his dirty mind recalled lying on top of Hermione moments ago (and relishing how her eyes rolled back into her head and her emphatic shouts of his name might have shaken the book stacks were they not charmed to remain in place), Hermione's present bare self—a tousled, provocative sight—was a compelling wonder from whence he couldn't detach his gaze. How startlingly quick his entire world had switched on a galleon.

"Aha!" Hermione exclaimed, retrieving two bags of tea from inside one of the front flaps of her satchel with a triumphant grin. She waltzed back to him, dangling each in one hand.

Severus held out both Styrofoam cups that had been magically refilled with hot water and Hermione dropped one bag into each, plopping down on the couch and perching herself next to him again. She curled her body into a ball at the wizard's side, finding the perfect little nook underneath his arm.

"I see you come prepared. Well done."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione teased, giving her naked companion a wry grin that he matched. "I seem to be lacking in preparedness in less certified matters, though, and I think we must both take the fault for it."

Severus quirked an eyebrow and eyed Hermione sidelong. "I hope you're not implying that I intended to spill your precious tea and, well, plan for the rest of what's ensued here?"

"But of course not!" she snickered, graciously accepting one of the cups from him.

"Because I can assure you, Miss Granger," he growled before taking a sip, "that was most definitely an accident."

"If you say so."

Severus lowered his cup to present the gorgeous, spritely-appearing witch with his full-on attention. "So... You were saying?" he proposed, pushing the subject that they had both been sidestepping since Hermione's arrival; or, rather, they had been too immersed in getting physically intimate with one another to engage in other, more proper avenues.

Hermione, having taken an appreciative swallow of her tea, modified her cosy position so that she, too, could regard Severus fully. "Let's start with how you're feeling now."

Severus snorted into his cup, "Bloody spectacular. And you?"

A blush illuminated Hermione's already healthy-coloured cheeks. "I'm being serious, Severus. Do you feel improved at all?" She paused before adding, "I must admit, you do look and sound even better than you did when I first arrived."

Severus nodded and fixed her with a seemingly amused stare. "I wonder why."

"Honestly, though, do you?"

Not missing the liveliness in Hermione's questions, Severus's lips bent upwards. "Have I not made myself clear? Yes, I'm feeling better and better all the time, and you seem to be the reason for these miraculous changes." At the puzzled expression that followed—the witch was evidently contemplating something substantial—Severus's smirk carried to his eyes. "So, what is the treatment you intend to propose, Miss Granger? Shagging on a more frequent basis?"

Hermione's thoughtful look lightened. "Would it hurt?"

Severus gave a nonchalant shrug. "I'm afraid it's not something I participate in often enough. I don't have any...what is it you young people might call this sort of engagement? 'Friends with benefits', perhaps?"

"Oh, do shut it," she huffed, though it came out more like a smothered laugh. She leaned into his side, crossed her arms over her fairly-endowed chest, and pursed her lips, eying her patient with more delicate consideration. "Is that how you see us: as future friends with benefits?"

Severus was taken aback by Hermione's question, for, all of a sudden, she sounded unsure. His left eyebrow arched higher still and his regard, too, turned as serious as hers. "I should think not. It wouldn't be professional, would it?"

"No...it wouldn't." Her mouth visibly slumped.

Watching the change to her attractive lips, Severus, in turn, pressed gently, "Is there an 'us' somewhere in this equation?"

In an instant, Hermione lifted her head. "I... I'd like to believe there's the potential for something more. Do you feel the same?"

Severus's dark, moonless eyes trailed from Hermione to the centre of his steaming cup for a time. Soon, they fell back on her watchful, freshly angst-ridden face and continued, "Before I answer, Hermione, I must be certain: is that something you would like?"

His words were hushed, even a tad fearful in tone, urging Hermione to respond as adamantly as she could stress, "Yes, I believe I would. I know I would. And you, Severus?"

Hermione was elated by the quiet but earnest answer he returned. "Yes...I most definitely would like that very much."

"Oh! Well...right then. It's settled!"

Giving a spirited bounce, Hermione nestled herself against Severus's lightly furred chest, smiling brighter than she ever had for several moments of silence. She couldn't assess Severus's stance to their carefree exchange, but she sensed his heart beating faster against her ear. It deepened the immense bliss that was now pouring over every part of her.

Then Severus's amused growl interrupted their brief bit of solitude. "That sounded more like a professional arrangement between colleagues rather than two people proposing to see more of each other."

Hermione broke up laughing and was enchanted to hear Severus joining in. "It did, didn't it?"

She contentedly peered up into Severus's composed face, agog by the confirmations it contained: he was no longer markedly pallid and sickly-looking but his complexion held an unmistakable healthier glow. The heaviness in his eyes, too, had lifted considerably, as if Nagini's venom and all the Dark Magic it likely contained had evaporated from within. All at my intervention? she wondered curiously. Hermione reckoned it couldn't all be the result of getting physical with the man—at least, hardly that alone—and wrestled with more of her formulating thoughts.

Severus, at last, brought it out of them both as they lay together naked on his couch, limbs happily intertwined. "You think this will cure me somehow: seeing more of you?"

The twinge of disbelief Hermione detected shook some of her own self-doubts, but she hurriedly rammed them to the back of her mind. "It's worth a shot, no? It's worked so far. My touch, my getting closer to you bit by bit, my smell..."

Severus's eyes flashed with the validation Hermione had been seeking and for which he had been keeping to himself. "How did you know that?"

"Your reaction to the tea the first time in my office... I hadn't considered until later on that you might be affected by my scent, seeing as I brewed it with my own hands. You had no reaction to—"

"To the potions you had sent out to a lab," he supported, and Hermione's grin broadened up at him.

"Correct."

"Or the muggle pills you prescribed that were made elsewhere."

"Exactly." Her rich, brown eyes made another one of their thoughtful studies of him. "I think it's why you've been struggling for so long, Severus. You've been without that which Dark Magic thrives on; that which must have been embedded in Nagini's attack."

Severus inclined closer in order to whisper faintly, his mouth inches from hers, "Tell me more."

Hermione held her ground, though her heart skipped faster. "Lack of true, genunine physical contact... Not having your needs met emotionally, physically..."

"Yes?" he persisted without blinking or breaking eye contact.

Hermione unknowingly licked her lips. "Not receiving human decency from another... Compassion... Attachment..."

"Love?"

Hermione hitched a breath. She hadn't anticipated that he would put forth that weighty implication. It was a matter she had been willing to keep to herself, possibly forever, if Severus Snape didn't care for her in the same manner as she was coming to appreciate him. Her lungs seemed suddenly incapable of taking in air.

"Well, I... I wasn't going to - to go that far if it didn't—"

"But you're right, Hermione," he interrupted in a low murmur, his words suddenly filled with longing. Hermione had never heard that tone from him before and it rattled her to the core. Her tumbling explanation frosted over at the declaration she couldn't believe she was now hearing. "The same wonders have been pressing on my mind. I... I've never quite felt this way about anyone before. Ever. In my entire life." He stopped short of finishing in order to stare deeper into Hermione's eyes a moment, thereby fastening their gazes together. "But these past weeks... Getting closer to you... Feeling your touch, your smell, your... Merlin, everything about you!

"I'm in love with you, Hermione. Merlin help me, I don't know how or why I've fallen so hard for you, but you've been driving me fucking mad ever since I stepped into your office and, you, into my life!"

Hermione's mouth hovered between opening and closing, her lungs finally releasing her of their near suffocating grip. "You - You have?" she breathed, stunned to the quick.

"Of course I ruddy well have." An abrupt scowl, along with a series of harsh lines, manifested on Severus's long face. "Have I just mucked up everything by telling you so?"

"No, no, Severus, you haven't at all! I just..." The excited nerves in Hermione's stomach were aflutter all over again as she stared gleefully back at him. "I just realised that I've been falling for you, too, Severus. For a very long time."

Severus's worried, twisted frown and wrinkles dissolved into a relieved, easy-going smile. It not only lightened his entire face but his entrancing, lovely-set eyes as well. The visual left Hermione momentarily bereft.

"It's settled then," he affirmed after a drawn out pause.

Hermione echoed his sentiments through several excited giggles. "Yes, I suppose it is!"

With ease, Severus's forehead found Hermione's, and she farther reclined into him as he whispered a delicate question, "Why you?"

"I... I hardly know," she confessed, "but I welcome us taking our time in finding out."

Severus gave a satisfied smirk that Hermione welcomed. "In that case, may I?"

"You may."

Severus leaned in for another amorous kiss, ensuring its longevity and intention. Who would have thought, he pondered before her flavour, aroma, and touch overpowered his senses, that Hermione fucking Granger would be my cure, and my possible beloved, at long last?

A/N #2: Thank you for reading, and a last BIG thank you to those who review at the end of it all.

Until next time!