AN: Not mine. Please don't sue. My take on an old theme. Inspired by a beautiful song by Levi Kreis.

I Should Go - Levi Kreis

Here we are
Isn't it familiar
Haven't had someone to talk to
In such a long time
And it's strange
All we have in common
And your company was just the thing I needed tonight
Somehow I feel I should apologize
Cuz I'm just a little shaken
By what's going on inside

I should go
Before my will gets any weaker
And my eyes begin to linger
Longer than they should
I should go
Before I lose my sense of reason
And this hour holds more meaning
Than it ever couldI should go

I should go
Baby, I should go

It's so hard
Keeping my composure
And pretend I don't see how
Your body curves beneath your clothes
And your laugh
Is pure and unaffected
It frightens me to know so well the place I shouldn't go
I know I gotta take the noble path
Cuz I don't want you to question
The intentions that I have

I should go
Before my will gets any weaker
And my eyes begin to linger
Longer than they should
I should go
Before I lose my sense of reason
And this hour holds more meaning
Than it ever could

I should go
I should go
Baby, I should go

I don't mean to leave you with a trivial excuse
And when you call tomorrow, I'll know what to do
I should go
Before my will gets any weaker
And my eyes begin to linger
Longer than they should

I should go
Before I lose my sense of reason
And this hour holds more meaning
Than it ever could
I should go
I should go
Baby, I should go

I Should Go

Hermione felt miserable and admittedly pathetic. Whoever said that Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year was obviously intoxicated or demented. She rather felt that the statistics supporting the idea that the holiday season was the most depressing were quite reasonable and logical. Between the painful fallout with git extraordinaire, Ronald Weasley, the departing of Harry and Ginny and the majority of the students, and being suddenly unable to return home for the winter break due to a spontaneous impulse on her parents' part to take a second honeymoon in Tahiti, 17 year old Hermione Granger's spirits were at an all time wretched low.

She had been looking forward to a break from all the emotional turmoil of teenage hormones and the ever hovering cloud of doom that lingered around Hogwarts. Soon after Harry, Ron, and Ginny had left for the Burrow, she received a scroll from McGonnagal indicating her parent's wish that she remain at Hogwarts for the holidays and communicating their promise to make it up to her by taking her somewhere grand over the summer. She'd mournfully unpacked her trunk in an empty dormitory. She was the only 6th year Gryffindor still at the school and wouldn't have had anyone to talk to anyway unless someone from her own small band of friends had also stayed. Even among her friends she felt like a disparate part. Her brilliant leaps in logic and love of learning as often engendered admiration Harry and Ron as it isolated her from them. Very few others had taken the time to know her beyond her brain and friendship with the Chosen One. So when her few friends were either away or fighting with her, she was left all alone.

Sitting on her neatly made bed for a few moments, a heavy wave of loneliness overwhelmed her. She dashed frantically at the infuriating tears with her hands and took a few shaky breaths.

Hermione calmly brushed any remaining wetness from her face and made her way determinedly out of Gryffindor Tower. It was't yet supper time so she had some time to find a project to keep her mind distracted until the other students returned and classes began again. Her trainer clad feet led her, naturally, to the comfort of the library. However, after only a few minutes of restlessly pacing between stacks, she began to feel a bit over warm in her plain muggle jeans and the fitted black jumper she almost never wore because of Crookshank's tendency to turn it orange. Hermione did find a very old book regarding Defense Against the Dark Arts Theory that she thought she might read in her spare time and checked it out from Madam Pince. Still, not having a goal made her edgy and full of nervous energy. So, instead of making herself at home at her favorite table, she walked back into one of the main corridors and began to wander in the empty halls, searching for a purpose.

Hermione didn't encounter a single soul, not even the ghosts. It was strange to see the big castle so empty. She supposed she'd never noticed when she had remained for the Christmas Hols because she'd always had company. She wondered if it was her imagination or if there were actually less students staying behind than there were in years before. Her thoughts were as pointless as her wandering, but it felt centering to let her them flow naturally without censure. She could visit some of the professors. Professor Sprout had mentioned planting tentacular bulbs soon in Greenhouse 1. Hermione was walking down the main, staircase into the Entry Hall reflecting that Hagrid would be a pleasant visit - unless he cried all over her because of Aragog. Poor Hagrid. She walked down another staircase, the large, leather-bound tome hugged to her chest, lost in her musings. Perhaps she might even find Professor McGonnagal and request extra Transfiguration work or offer to assist in something useful. Oh! That would be perfect, she thought. Perceiving the possibility of a challenge, Hermione lifted her chin and felt marginally better.

Glancing around, Hermione realized she was in a familiar corridor and down a ways on the wall was a painting of a bowl of fruit and a particularly ticklish pear. Of course! S.P.E.W. had been put on the back burner for so long that she had even considered dissolving the organization. She hadn't talked to the elves by herself before… Maybe… She reached out, a vague plan of interviewing house elves forming, and tickled the pear which shook with giggles and let her in.

The kitchen was as large as she remembered, the same dimensions as the Great Hall above. The ovens were bright, but most of the sconces on the walls and overhead chandeliers were left unlit. What had been bright and loud and busy in her memory was shadowed and quiet and peaceful. The wafting scents of baking bread and roasting chicken smelled divine. However, there were far fewer elves than what she remembered. Only four elves were bustling about preparing the evening meal on a much smaller scale. "Hello?" she called to one of them.

This elf, in a very clean and pressed tea towel, with a very pointy little nose and very long lashed large eyes, turned and squeaked at the sight of Hermione. "I is sorrys miss! Whats can I do for you?"

Hermione smiled kindly to her? him? it. "I was wondering if I might ask you some questions."

"You absolutely may not, Ms. Granger," a deep, familiar voice snapped from one of the shadows on the wooden long prep tables and she started.

"Granger!" the little elf piped in recognition and scurried away, back to the other elves who were eyeing her with fear. "Please no clothes, miss!"

"I only-"

"Leave them be, stupid girl. They like it here," Professor Snape drawled.

Hermione sighed her disappointment. Clutching her book to her chest she turned to face the shadow and gazed into it, willing her eyes to adjust. She slowly made him out. Professor Snape sat on a long bench, almost slumped over the table, wearing black robes she'd never seen before and on the bench beside him sat something round, and almost flat, a little of the oven firelight glinting silver off of it. He saw her gaze and moved the large disc like object into the folds of his robes. "Have you come for a snack, Professor?" she asked conversationally. He said nothing, seeming very tense. "Excuse me?" she turned her head slightly to the frightened elves still cooking. "Could we get a tea tray, please?" And she walked to sit next to the Professor, seeing as how walking around the long table would be senseless.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he growled. She wasn't afraid or put off by his gruffness. This was Professor Snape, current DADA teacher and former Potions Master of the school, member of the Order of the Phoenix. This was the man who had unhesitatingly jumped between herself and a werewolf, the man who Dumbledore trusted so utterly. This was the man who, though cruel and strict, was the best teacher she'd had in all her years at the school.

"I'm going to pour us tea." And as she said it, the pointy nosed elf popped in and out between them, leaving a tray laden with tea pot, two cups and saucers, and little sandwiches and sweet biscuits. Hermione poured the fragrant tea into the cups and set one in front of Professor Snape, correctly assuming he didn't want sugar or milk. Taking a sip of hers, she asked, "What brings you here to the kitchens, sir?"

"That is one of your business," he snapped. Reluctantly, his own hand snaked out to grip the warm cup and bring it to his lips. Taking a deep gulp, tension seemed to leak away from his shoulders and he released a barely audible sigh. "I came here to avoid people and be alone," he admitted in a pointed murmur. "An objective you are making rather difficult to achieve."

"Well, you've thwarted my objective by revealing my name to the elves. I think I'll stick around to thwart yours," she answered primly, placing her cup and saucer down just so.

Snape let out a srangled sound that seemed almost like a laugh. "You, Granger, are insufferable," he said, half accusing, half amused, but didn't order her to leave. Then he noticed the book perched upon the bench on the other side of the girl. "Ah, Defense Theories: Protection from the Dark Arts. A good reference. Are you trying to ingratiate yourself with me?"

Hermione scoffed, picking up the book and placing it on the table in front of them. "Really, sir. You don't honestly think I'd walk around with this book in hopes that I would bump into you and you'd be impressed. I just borrowed this from the library a bit ago and came here. How was I to know you were already here in the kitchens? The text book you assigned this year has been the best yet for DADA, however I find myself looking for the references to read them first hand. It sticks better that way. And besides, I don't read to please anyone but myself." She selected a little cucumber sandwich from the tray and ate it whole to stop herself from rambling even more.

The Professor gazed at her, thinking that he had done the same as a student. Any reference listed at the back of his texts, he went out of his way to find and read. "Hm. I suppose you've already read The Unforgiveables: Lessons In the Darkest Arts?" he asked, then took another warming sip of tea, hoping in the dim light that she couldn't see his hands trembling.

She let out a little sound of disgust. "Tch, no! The book has been checked out for the past two months!" she waved her hands in frustration. "I've already read Defense Theories twice, but there are some gaps in my notes and I'd love to get my hands on that… book." Hermione's voice trailed away as she caught Professor Snape watching her with a strange expression on his face. She blushed furiously and was thankful for the dark. "Sorry, sir," she muttered. "It's only a book, right? Or at least that's what Harry and that idiot Ronald would say. What's one less?" Besides, she couldn't actually tell the boys she was looking for DADA books, or she was sure she'd get the mickey taken out of her for trying to impress Snape - Which was patently NOT what she was trying to do. "I only want to understand," unable to keep the bit of wistfulness out of her voice.

"Understand what, Ms. Granger?" Snape asked, placing down his empty cup and saucer.

"More, sir?" He nodded and she poured him another cup. "I suppose I want to understand what it is about it that tempts people so. From what I've seen or read of the Dark Arts, it is full of disgusting practices and madness. I don't think anything could persuade me to use them."

Professor Snape shook his head. "You have hardly scratched the surface then, girl. The Dark arts are a seductive call to power and lures the weak to take up it's mantle. Many wizards and witches attempt a small dark charm, usually for self advancement, thinking it can't hurt. However, they are more often than not drawn into it's clutches all too easily and one small charm turns into a slightly more advanced spell and that turns into a nasty curse."

The girl seemed to be absorbing his words, staring into her tea. When she spoke again it was to herself. "It's fascinating- the domino effect one dark spell can have on a person's life. I'd love to know more."

He sneered at that. "Can't wait to try it yourself, Granger?"

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts she spat, "That's just stupid! Don't be ridiculous! I would never…" and remembered, a little late that she wasn't talking to her friends, but to Professor Snape. Her eyes widened a bit in embarrassment. She'd just told Professor Snape that he was ridiculous and had stupid ideas… which in all honesty, it was a stupid idea - Hermione wanting to try a dark spell. But still. "I- I didn't mean…"

Professor Snape had only one dark brow raised at her. She cringed and buried her face in her hands for a moment. He'd take away points now and specify that he wasn't one of her little friends to be talked to like an idiot. However, instead of the sharp snap of his angered voice, she only heard him scoff. "Are your friends so stupid that you have to tell them not to be often enough for the words to accidentally slip out? It's pathetic."

At this she raised her face in indignation, her voice suddenly shrewish even to her own ears. "I am not pathetic! And neither is Harry! He only sometimes makes rash choices without thinking things through, but he's much improved now." Then she darkly muttered to his enjoyment, "Maybe Ronald is pathetic, the prat."

Professor Snape said nothing about Harry, but the line of his shoulders seemed tense again at his name and he said dryly, "Weasley? Pathetic? Owl the Prophet! What extraordinary news." Hermione rolled brown eyes at him. "What has he done to deserve your scorn? Has he tried to put his ape hands on you and disappointed you? I could have predicted such an outcome even without Professor Trelawney's tarot cards."

At this she laughed a brittle laugh. "The red ape would hardly put his hands anywhere near this dried up bookworm when lovely latching Lavender is available. And I mean available." She muttered again, "The git."

Though he didn't show it, Snape was astonished. Weasley would rather have that twit, Brown, rather than Granger? The Brown girl, as far as he knew of her from his potions and DADA classes, was an overly made up, artificial, airheaded, dimwit. Whereas, while Granger was a bushy haired know-it-all, she was much more sincerely caring of other students and artless in her appearance with such an open, candid face that anyone could read her emotions at anytime. Why he was thinking that was good thing in these times, Snape wasn't quite sure himself, but it was. "The girl's an dunderhead," he stated, though not to make Granger feel better.

Hermione laughed, "I know. She once asked me how worms make wormwood."

Professor Snape eyes looked heavenward, shaking his head in disgust and Hermione smiled. And for many minutes they sat in comfortable silence, sipping their tea and snacking from tray in the nearly empty kitchen.

For Hermione, it was like coming home. Someone to chat with over a cup of tea was what she missed most about her parents. Whether the chat was bout an academic interest or a social setback, her mum's kitchen table was the best place to deal with problems. Ronald and even Harry were hardly reliable when it came to providing an attentive ear. They were both stuck on their own problems, Harry's usually legitimately important, Ron's usually selfish and inconsiderate. Professor Snape… listened. It was strange and yet so very, very comforting. He wasn't nearly as intimidating as he usually was. At first he seemed to be trying very hard to scare her away, but that edge seemed to have left him a bit. It was learning the sound of his laugh that was like a prize for her ability to withstand his coldness. It felt surreal now to be sitting alone with him and feeling so secure.

For Professor Snape, it was like an oasis in the desert. He'd entered the kitchens, unable to quite make it to his own rooms after returning from a particularly pain filled meeting with the Dark Lord and his loyal Death Eaters. While, the killing curse was Voldemort's favorite, the Cruciatus was only a close second. He'd made it to Albus to report what he'd learned and was on his way back to his dungeon quarters when he'd nearly collapsed outside of the fruit portrait. He'd been shaking and recovering alone in the dark of the kitchen when she rushed in ready to harass the elves. He'd snapped at her then, hoping she'd leave the kitchens more than leave the elves alone, but she'd stayed. She not only stayed, she poured him tea the way he liked, and didn't tremble at his thundering and bluster. It was exactly what he needed. However, he was sure that wouldn't be the case if she had known where he'd been only a little earlier that day. He'd had to quickly hide the hated silver mask in the folds of his robes before her clever eyes could light upon it and draw the correct, but devastating conclusion that her respected, and reviled, professor was a Deatheater. For some reason, he immediately couldn't bear the idea of Hermione Granger of all people, finding that out. He knew that Potter and Weasley never had a considerate thought for him and couldn't care less, but he also knew that Granger had always respected him, sought his approval, and even trusted him. She was one of the few people in the world who did.

When he pulled himself out of his thoughts it was to find Granger watching him from beneath her surprisingly long, sooty lashes. "Would you like more tea, sir?" He was startled to see he'd finished his second cup and nodded again. He watched her pour the tea, her movements graceful and practiced. She took another cup as well, adding half a spoon of sugar. As she stirred her still steaming tea with her spoon, he noticed with a shock that Hermione Granger had elegant hands, long and fine-boned with smooth, creamy skin. The creamy texture was echoed on the curve of her exposed neck above the slight v of her black jumper and beneath the wild mane of hair and on an expanse of skin tantalizingly revealed between the low slung waist of her muggle jeans and hem of her black jumper. For a moment his eyes lingered on that expanse, a sudden urge to run his fingers across it to see if it was just as smooth as it looked caused him to jerk out of his again wandering thoughts. Merlin, what was he thinking? Granger? A student? He felt suddenly and completely disgusted with himself, but what else was new?

"Professor?" she queried.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For letting me stay here with you. I've been feeling really low lately and it's just nice to have someone to talk to, even if it's only a little while." He said nothing.

She brought her tea cup up to wrap her mouth around the lip and he watched her eyes close in appreciation of the flavor and saw her tongue slip between her lips to lick away the extra moisture. He almost groaned aloud. Gulping down the rest of his tea, he felt the abrupt need to apologize for his thoughts, but swallowed that as well. He stood suddenly, needing to get away from this mirage. Hermione Granger was not his oasis, those thoughts were only illusions. "I should go," he rasped out gruffly. Before my mind goes farther into where it shouldn't.

She looked up, disappointment in her eyes. "Oh. A-alright. Perhaps another time, Professor?" she wasn't sure what prompted her to ask, to practically invite him to tea again.

He thought for a moment. "Perhaps. Good day, Granger." Professor Snape murmured. And he was gone from the kitchens in a silent whirlwind of black robes and flashing black eyes. For a long time, Hermione sat alone and reflected on solitude, but then decided it was way overrated, beginning to form a plan.

AN: Not sure if this is a one shot or not. Complete for now - with potential for future additions? Not satisfied with my next couple chapters of Cooks in the Kitchen, so still tweaking. Also working on Winter Wonderland. Thanks for reading. Please review and tell me what you think. Should I continue this, too?

-lovelielove