Severus returned to his rooms in a very bad mood indeed. He threw himself into the armchair in his library and toed off his boots, loosening his cravat and wandlessly releasing the buttons of his waistcoat while he was at it. He felt...constrained, and ran his hands through is hair to loosen it from its leather tie. Shaking his hair forward, he eyed the decanter of 100 year cognac that Lucius had gifted him for his 45th birthday. He drank it sparingly, but tonight seemed like a night for indulgence. Surely spending an hour alone in Hermione's company without dragging her back to his bedroom counted as some sort of accomplishment, though it was hardly something to celebrate. He waved his hand to pour and summon a snifter of the brandy and settled in for a good brood.

He honestly didn't know how he was going to make it to the end of the week, much less the end of the school term, without doing something about his inconvenient feelings for the Potions professor.His Potions professor. The chit had begun growing on him almost from the first day of her apprenticeship, and before long he'd found himself inviting her to tea just so he could draw her into conversation. He'd brewed with her in his laboratory, tortured by the scent of her shampoo (an interesting mixture of pomelo, honeysuckle, and moss that he knew she mixed herself) in the small space. He'd spent long hours debating potions theory in his office, trying not to stare at the familiar face that had somehow transitioned from girlishness to womanhood while he wasn't looking. He knew, he knew , that there was no possibility that she'd be interested in a man so much her senior, with such a controversial reputation who kept company with former Death Eaters, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from seeking her out during her time as his mentee. Only his ascension to the post of Headmaster and the realization that he would have to continue to interact with her daily had brought him to his senses. He'd made himself stay away from her, ending their quiet conversations before he lost control of himself and begged her to take him to her bed.

And oh, how he wanted to be in her bed. His fingers tightened on the stem of his glass as his brain raced through the myriad fantasies he'd entertained over the years. It might be dishonorable to spend each evening thinking about a woman in his employ naked, sweating, and screaming his name, but justified his thoughts by reminding himself that imagined intimacy was as close as he would ever get to stripping her body bare and emptying himself into her. It's not as though he could stop the thoughts if he wanted to. He'd barely been able to restrain his thoughts during their hour together this evening. She'd looked so forlorn when he'd first come into the room, he wanted to gather her into his lap and kiss her until neither of them could think at all. She'd probably had a tiff with dearRonald , he thought derisively. He still didn't understand how such an intelligent woman could spend time with the muscle-bound dunderhead. She was a woman who needed a man of refinement, a man like - but that way lay madness. He cut his thoughts off with a snap and returned to frowning into his drink.

Perhaps he was simply meant to be alone. There had to be a reason that he was continually attracted to women who would never have him, great ugly bat that he was. Lily, rest her soul, had never been able to see him as more than a friend and he knew now that she was tied to appearance both physical and social to pursue a romantic relationship with him. Narcissa had been obsessed with his best friend since their final year at school; he was fairly sure she'd never even contemplated him as anything other than Lucius' "little brother". And Hermione - too young, too well-loved by the Wizarding community, and too close with a certain scarheadded annoyance and his ginger-haired, quidditch-obsessed, bottomless pit of a best friend. It was hopeless.

Preparing this little scene for Siobhan's class wasn't helping matters at all. He'd already spent the better part of his day thinking about trying to not think about Hermione (and failing miserably). Hearing her read the oft-repeated words of love and adoration to him, even knowing the words weren't meant for him had caused his heart to flutter in his chest. Not that he'd ever apply such a phrase to himself. To be truthful, it had caused movement in other areas too which was the only reason he'd not risen as she'd quit the room at the end of their rehearsal session. He didn't know what Siobhan was playing at, but if he might have to devise an appropriate punishment if he survived past the staged reading on Friday. One couldn't actually die of unfulfilled desire, could they?

❧HGSS❧

"Good evening, Headmaster." Hermione said as she entered the staff room. Severus couldn't help but note that her normal chirping enthusiasm was absent tonight. The ginger oaf was probably still making her unhappy, then, the bounder.

He nodded to the tired young woman. "Professor Granger. Shall we?" he gestured toward the book by his side.

"Actually, I spoke to Professor Cowles today," she said. "Siobhan planned this as a staged reading, which means we aren't to simply sit in front of the students and read the language aloud. We're supposed to move about the room as though we were performing on stage. She suggested that we spent the next two nights blocking and rehearsing in the Muggle Studies classroom so that we looked rehearsed. If we drop the second scene, we should have enough time tonight and tomorrow night to work it out."

Severus' eyes widened at the thought of "rehearsing" a profession of love with the woman in front of him. "Is that strictly necessary, Professor Granger? Surely we can improvise our movements on Friday."

"I don't know, Sev - Headmaster," she said, coloring. "The Balcony Scene has some rather specific blocking, and I'd rather not leave anything to chance on Friday. I don't want to fumble in front of the students and make a fool of myself; the fourth-years are my most rambunctious lot, and they'll be unable to concentrate in Potions next week if they're too focused on making fun of us while my back is turned."

"Very well." he acquiesced. "Let's see what we can make of the classroom without breaking the castle."

❧HGSS❧

Hermione returned to her room feeling both elated and frustrated. Rehearsal with Severus had gone entirely too well. They'd managed to modify a projection charm to display their texts in the air in front of the reader while keep them invisible to anyone not in the reading. The charm had freed their hands to move about the room, and they'd been able to roughly block the scene and decide what "set pieces" to transfigure for the reading on Friday. They'd kept it simple - a balcony with an arch over it, a trellis with secure footholds, and a tree to represent the garden. The entire process had taken only a couple of hours.

Of course, two hours with Severus Snape felt like twenty when you accounted for the fact that she'd wanted to drop all pretense of professionalism and fling herself into his arms. He'd looked delicious, striding around the room in his dark robes and slim boots. Perhaps he was more Heathcliffian than Romeoesque, but he'd struck a romantic figure nevertheless. She sighed a bit as she walked to her bedroom, removing her heavy teaching robes and hanging them neatly in the closet. She was sure she'd looked positively clumsy next to his graceful swagger; it was probably for the best that Juliet remained rooted to the balcony for the majority of the scene. Privately, she thought she'd probably looked like the graceless teenager she's once been, mooning on the balcony and trying not to look at Severus' arse every time he turned away from her.

Feeling the cumulative weight of her day pressing down on her shoulders, Hermione ran a bath and poured some of her favorite bath bubbles - a Christmas gift from Ron just before their breakup - into the water. Ronald might be an immature prat, but he'd had the good sense to get Ginny to help him with his Christmas shopping. She slid into the hot, frothy water and closed her eyes, letting the scent of jasmine and musk ease the tension from her body and mind.

She knew she should stop obsessing about Severus Snape. It was hopeless to fantasize about her boss and horribly unprofessional to imagine his hands on her before she slept each night, but even as she thought this her hands were drifting under the water to tease her body into a state of arousal. She gave a mental shrug as she felt her body begin to respond to the combination of her fingers and her naughty visions. If this is all I ever have of the man, what's the harm in indulging? She knew very well that the harm lay in prolonging her own angst each time she was in his presence, but at the moment that seemed like a small price to pay for a little pleasure. With a little huff of laughter she sank lower in the water and prepared to indulge her imagination as fully as she could.

❧HGSS❧

"Professor."

"Headmaster."

"Shall we?" Severus gestured toward the already-transfigured classroom in invitation.

"Yes. We should probably refine the blocking tonight. We really only went through the motions yesterday, and as the performance is tomorrow I'd like to make sure I know exactly what we're doing," she said decisively.

"I should think that you'd have the easier role there, Professor Granger." he said with a smirk. "After all, you mostly lean on a balustrade while I have to skulk around a tree and climb a bloody trellis."

"Surely after all the time as a spy you'd have the skulking down. And you're a fit man, I'm sure a four foot climb will do you no harm," she said with a smile. What are you doing, Hermione? Stop flirting with him!

Severus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes. Well. That's fine then. Why don't you get on your balcony and we'll see how this goes, shall we?" He moved away from her as quickly as he could without appearing foolish, failing to note the look of disappointment in Hermione's eyes as he did so.

Hermione moved to the back of the small balcony and stone wall they'd transfigured and eyed the platform above. With a twitch of her wand, she created a ladder so she could climb up to her "bedroom" and narrowly avoided face-planting into the wall when her foot caught on her robes as she stepped on the first rung. She let out a little screech and caught herself before she bashed her head into the transfigured stones.

"Are you alright back there?" she heard Severus ask.

"I'm fine! Just tripped over my stupid robes. I'm just going to remove them for our work on the scene. The last thing I need to do is walk around campus with a black eye because I'm too clumsy to climb a ladder." She quickly stripped off her teaching robes and lay them over a desk, adjusting the simple plum-colored surplice dress she wore beneath to ensure that everything was where it should be within and cursing her hair when it got in her way. She returned to the ladder and made her way up to the balcony without further incident. "Ready when you are!" she called.

"Right." Severus flicked his wand to create the invisible text that would float in front of him. He began his monologue facing toward the empty classroom, morosely intoning " He jests at scars that never felt a wound ." before turning to face Hermione on her balcony. He nearly stumbled when he caught sight of Hermione leaning against the balustrade, staring wistfully off into the distance. Her hair had tumbled out of its chignon and streamed behind her and dress gaped in the front as she supported her head in her hand, framing what he mused were the world's most perfect breasts in soft fabric. His voice croaked a bit as he read the next lines and he could not help but think that Romeo's " But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? " had never sounded more appropriate in his life.

Hermione was startled by Severus' voice when he turned; she hadn't realized the man had such a knack for acting and she had to physically pinch her own arm to keep from staring at him as that silken voice caressed such words of heart-sick infatuation. She sighed, thinking to herself that she could listen to Severus read Shakespeare from now until eternity when such emotion could be heard in his dulcet tones. Her " Ay me ." reflected perfectly how hopelessly attracted she was to the man below her. She couldn't help but romanticize the dark, brooding, intelligent, and now romanticsounding man below her.

The worked their way through the scene, pausing often to refine Severus' placement within the small garden set they'd conjured. He complained that he was getting a crick in his neck from staring up at her, though he'd done so in good humor. Hermione found that she was having trouble attending to her script, despite the fact that is was hovering in front of her. Her attention was riveted instead on the man in front of her, and on listening to him profess his newfound love for her, even if it was only through the voice of a long-dead squib playwright.

Hermione recognized that this scene would likely be the only chance for her to hear such words from his lips, but she suddenly realized that it would also be the only time that she could express her own desires without fear of reprisal. Seized with sudden bravery as she grasped this fact, Hermione poured every ounce of respect and admiration, love and longing into her final speech within the scene. She leaned toward Severus, who was perched near the top of the trellis so that he could be closer to his Juliet, as she uttered her final lines. Romeo had just expressed desire to become a bird so that he might become her pet and stay with her and she replied as though lost in the spell of Shakespeare's words:

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Before she could think, she leaned forward and touched her hand to his cheek, pressing a chaste and lingering kiss against his mouth. His sudden intake of breath broke the thrall that the words had on her and she straightened with a gasp. "H-headmaster. I beg your pardon." she stammered as she pressed her fingertips to her lips. She couldn't read the look in his eyes and desperately feared that she'd just ruined everything - her job, her relationship (such as it was) with Severus, and any chance she might have of someday rekindling their friendship.

She was surprised, then, when her former mentor suddenly stepped over the balustrade and gathered her in his arms, closing the distance between them to return her kiss with a fervency that lit a fire in her breast. His kiss said all that she'd ever hoped to hear from him and demanded more. His mouth devoured hers with an applied dedication that had tremors moving down her spine and liquid heat pooling in her stomach. Hermione was nearly beyond rational thought as lips and teeth and tongue conquered her, heart and soul.

At long last, he broke the kiss to gaze into her eyes, looking, she thought, for reprimand or recrimination. It was all she could do to keep herself from staring at him like a drunken sixth year experiencing Firewhiskey for the first time, so mind-altering an experience was kissing Severus Snape. She stared at him anyway, speechless, and hoped that he could read her will in her eyes.

Apparently satisfied with what he saw there, his mouth quirked into a half-smile and her ran his hands down her arms. "Finally." he breathed, before pressing a gentler kiss to her brow and drawing back to look her in the eye again. "I never dared hope this day would come."

She returned his gaze steadily and found comfort in the warmth she found in his face. "Nor I. I assumed you thought me too young - that you couldn't think of me as anything other than your student."

He chuckled. "And I thought you found me too old, too battered for such a vital witch as yourself. I was afraid that you'd reject me, and that I would become wretched in that knowledge."

She blinked. "Then you - "

"Love you? Always."

She closed her eyes against the rush of feeling that surged through her and breathed "Thank the gods."

He brushed her hair away from her face before drawing her into a tight embrace. "I think we've rehearsed enough for the evening. Would you join me for a glass of wine by the fire in my quarters? I've missed our talks these past years, missed seeing your face across from mine."

She snuggled closer to his chest with a smile. "Oh, Severus. I'd love that. I've missed you as well, so much."

"Then come to my rooms, sleep in my bed. I have need of you, witch; you're the only one I long for each night."

She drew back to look at him - her powerful, dashing, intelligent, romantic wizard. "Yes."

The was a sudden crack as the headmaster apparated his witch to his tower, leaving the balcony, the tree, the trellis, and Hermione's teaching robes in the cold light of the classroom. They did not see the two figures at the back of the room shimmer into visibility, hands clasped to breast with delight.

"Siobhan, you're a genius. I simply can't believe your little scheme worked!' the elder witch exclaimed.

"My love, they just needed a little push. You Gryffindors are entirely too heavy handed when it comes to romantic manipulation. A Hufflepuff knows how to set a plan in motion and when to let it go. They were waiting for each other; all I did was allow them to drop their guard." She gathered her friend's robes to return to her in the morning; Hermione didn't need to know when Siobhan had found them.

"Much as you convinced me to drop mine last year. Come on, love. Time for bed."

"It is." she said, giving her lover a peck on the cheek. "Oh, and Minerva? It didn't take even take a week. You owe me a galleon."