Snape watched as the girl with the wild curls stood in line, practically bouncing with excitement. McGonagall's voice rang through the air, announcing the next student to be sorted. "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione walked up to the chair and placed the hat on her head so fast that it almost fell right back off. Snape watched as the Sorting Hat debated over her fate, and he wondered why he was paying so much attention to her. She was just another first year, after all.

The Granger girl sat in second year Potions class, head bent over, intently chopping up a sprig of fluxweed. Snape watched from his desk, observing her meticulous actions. He wondered, once again, why she always captured his attention. Then a loud bang went off and he turned to see a cauldron's contents go flying across the dungeon, while a slim figure with telltale bushy hair slipped out of the classroom through the door to his private office. He frowned to himself. He would surely catch her—he just wondered why Little Miss Perfect was sneaking into his private stores.

By the time the cauldron exploding situation was cleaned up, class had ended. Granger and her idiot friends were nearly out the door when Snape called her back. "A word with you, Miss Granger."

Potter and Weasley exchanged worried looks as Granger walked over to Snape's desk. He resisted the urge to smirk. So they were all in it together.

"It's okay guys, you go without me. I won't be long," she said, turning to face Snape.

"Alright, Hermione, if you say so," Weasley said uncertainly, and he pulled Potter out of the dungeon.

After the two dunderheads had left, Snape looked at the Granger girl. "You do know why I've called you here, right?"

"Umm...no...s-sir…I don't." Granger, normally perfectly articulate, stumbled over her words and couldn't seem to form a full sentence.

His temper flared out of control. He was infuriated with her lying, her innocent act. He stood up, slamming his hands on his desk and sending student papers flying everywhere.

"You don't know? What don't you know? I know perfectly well that you snuck into my private office during class. You think I don't pay attention? I see everything. You can't fool me, you stupid little Mudblood!"

His final words rang around the room as silence fell. A few more seconds later and the Granger girl had turned and run out of the dungeon with tears streaming down her face.

A week after his encounter with Granger, Snape still couldn't stop thinking about the look on her face when he had said the M-word. He replayed the moment in his mind over and over, feeling more helpless each time she whirled around and bolted out the door with tears in her eyes.

She hadn't raised her hand once all week.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! he thought, frustrated. You've crushed a twelve-year-old's spirit. You called her a Mudblood! That's exactly what you told—

Snape forced himself to cut off his thought process. Even after all this time, it still hurt to think of Lily Evans.

He spent another five minutes trying to get the Granger girl's crumpled, tear-streaked face out of his head. Then, with a long sigh, he lowered his head to his desk and resolved to be nicer to her, starting the very next day.

"Miss Granger, a word, if you please."

"Yes, sir?" she said stiffly, her face emotionless. Hmm, Snape thought. A sign of a good Occlumens?

He mentally shook the irrelevant thought from his brain and focused on the task before him. He sighed. "I would like to congratulate you on a well-made potion today," he said. Try to be nice! he reminded himself. Nice. "It was the best of the class."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

He noticed the formal tone to her voice, the unwillingness to acknowledge the hidden apology that Snape had been trying to convey, and mentally groaned. The stubborn girl was going to make him actually say it.

All right, he thought. You can do this. Think of it as your apology to Lily.

He finally spoke after a long silence. "I would like to apologize for the incident that occurred last week. It was extremely unprofessional of me."

He noticed the effort she made to keep her face blank, but her mental shields faltered, and he could see the conflicting emotions flitting across her face. Shock and disbelief showed first, but then relief and happiness took over.

"Apology accepted," she said finally.

He paused, searching for anything to say to ease the tension."You did very well on your potion today," Snape repeated, trying to make himself seem more approachable by boosting her ego. He mentally winced as he realized he'd already complimented her on that.

She didn't seem to mind, however, as her face lit up in an expression of delight that reminded him uncannily of Lily. "Thank you, sir."

The very next day, he went to oversee a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

Stupid Lockhart. Can't even do a proper disarming spell! I could teach Defense ten times better, Snape seethed, sitting at his desk with his hands curled into fists. No one should be learning anything from him. And then, before he could stop himself, he thought, Especially the Granger girl.

So after Potions class that day, he said, for what seemed like the millionth time, "I would like to speak with you, Miss Granger."

She moved to stand where she always stood in front of his desk. "Yes, sir?" She looked a little more relaxed around him now, which he took as a sign of encouragement.

He waited in silence until all the last students had left the classroom before speaking. "This conversation we're about to have will remain strictly between the two of us, do you understand?"

She nodded, he continued.

"I would like to offer you a unique opportunity."

"What is it?" Granger asked.

"I would like to offer you private lessons."

Granger's nose scrunched. "Remedial lessons? But you said I'm the best at Potions in my year."

"Not remedial lessons," Snape said. The way she'd wrinkled her nose, as if the thought of taking private lessons with him disgusted her, had shaken his confidence. "And not for Potions, either. I want to offer you special training in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh." Granger blinked a few times. "I appreciate the offer, Professor, but may I ask why?"

Snape thought for a moment before answering her. "Today I went to oversee Lockhart's Defense class," he said. "His teaching style leaves something to be desired. I could do better than that. Someone as bright as you deserves better than that."

Granger's jaw tightened. "Actually, sir, I think Professor Lockhart is a brilliant wizard."

Snape barely held back a snort. "Then you're a fool."

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he regretted it.

"He's written loads of books," Granger said. There was a defiance in her eyes he had never seen before. "He's incredibly brave. He's a far more accomplished wizard than any other teacher here."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Pull out your wand."

She hesitated, and then obeyed.

"Disarm me."

"What?"

"If your Defense education is so brilliant, then prove it."

She swallowed. "Expelliarmus."

Snape's wand flew out of his hand, hitting the ground and skidding to a halt against one of the student desks. He barely glanced at it, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "Did Professor Lockhart teach you that spell?"

"No, sir."

"Where did you learn it?"

"From a book." Granger's eyes were downcast.

"What spells have you learned from Professor Lockhart?"

She shook her head. "I haven't learned any."

Snape walked a few steps and bent to retrieve his wand. "I will see you Monday evening for our first Defense lesson. Eight o'clock, my office. Do not be late, Miss Granger."

As the years passed, and times grew darker, Snape taught her faithfully every week. He showed her how to defend against hexes and jinxes, and how to throw ones of her own. He taught her things far beyond her age and skill level, and she absorbed all the information and knowledge effortlessly. But she still had much more to learn.

"Think of the happiest memory you have," Snape said. "Remember, the incantation is Expecto Patronum. We've done this before."

Hermione scrunched up her face. "Expecto Patronum!"

A few wisps of white smoke floated out of the end of her wand, but nothing materialized.

Snape frowned. True, creating a Patronus was hard, but this was the first spell Hermione had really struggled with.

He pulled out his wand. "Here, maybe it'll help if you see me doing it again. Expecto Patronum!" His doe materialized. It bounded across the room, nuzzled Hermione affectionately, and disappeared in a burst of wisps.

He wasn't usually comfortable showing off his Patronus with others, but somehow he felt safe sharing it with Hermione.

"Try it again," he said.

Hermione raised her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" A cloud of silver appeared, but nothing in a definite shape.

"Find your happiest memory. Concentrate."

A few more tries, and—

A silver otter burst out of her wand and swam around in the air, circling around her head.

"I did it!" Hermione exclaimed. "I really did it!"

"I told you you had the potential," Snape said. "Now that you've gotten it, you just have to practice."

Hermione groaned, but her eyes were shining, and unconsciously, a corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile.

He drilled her in nonverbal spells, in advanced fighting techniques, and even in hand-to-hand combat. She was making rapid progress in both Occlumency and Legilimency.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione asked one night, knocking lightly on the open door of his office. She saw her professor sitting at his desk, grading papers.

Snape looked up from his desk, halfway through grading a Potions essay. "Miss Granger? Did we have a lesson planned?"

"No." She came inside. "I just…I wanted someone to talk to." She sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk. "You can call me Hermione."

"Hermione," he said, trying out the feel of her name in his mouth. It was like fine chocolate, perfect and smooth on his tongue. "What would you like to talk about?"

As if he had opened up a dam, the words started pouring out. "Malfoy called me a Mudblood. He's been saying that for years, but I don't know, this time it just really got to me. He told me I didn't belong, that I wasn't supposed to be in the wizarding world." She sounded as if she were on the verge of tears.

Snape, suddenly faced with an emotional teenager, had no idea what to do. He said the first thing that came to mind: "You know, I'm actually a half-blood."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Never be ashamed of your Muggle heritage. The two most brilliant witches I've ever had the pleasure of meeting were Muggleborns." He hesitated, and then said, "One of those extraordinary ladies is you."

She looked up. "Who was the other one?"

He took a deep breath. "There was a girl. A very long time ago. She was—well, it doesn't matter now. I pushed her away because of her blood status. I've never forgiven myself for it." Snape waited for Hermione to make eye contact. "I will not make the same mistake with you, Hermione."

He sat up in bed, breathing heavily. Ever since his meeting with Dumbledore at the beginning of the year, he'd been having nightmares. It wasn't the thought of killing the Headmaster that plagued his dreams—Snape had killed before, after all, and to be honest, there were times when he wished he could kill Dumbledore purely out of annoyance.

No, it was Hermione's face that caused him to wake in a cold sweat every night. He dreamed of her watching as he fired off the final Avada Kedavra. Her expression of horror, of betrayal, made his chest ache, and as he leaned back against his pillows, he realized that he couldn't complete his task if he remained close to her.

So the very next day, he decided to break things off with Hermione.

"I've taught you everything that you need to know," he said at the end of their final (though she didn't know it yet) private Defense lesson. "I want you to know that I'm so proud of you for achieving so much. But now it's time for our lessons to end." His voice nearly cracked at the end, and he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Why? I haven't learned everything yet."

"It's time for the lessons to end, Hermione," he said firmly. "I have my reasons. Don't question me."

Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "There's something bothering you. I can tell. I know you too well."

He gritted his teeth. His chest ached. "Just go."

"Not until you tell me why you're pushing me away." She set her jaw. "Severus. Please."

Snape tensed at the use of his first name. "Get out of my office, Miss Granger."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a quiet sob from Hermione, and then she turned on her heel and left, slamming his office door behind her.

He was exhausted. He'd been in his office for hours grading Defense exams, and the approach of summer made his office too warm, even with the door ajar. Soon he would have to sleep.

There was a movement in the shadows, so slight he thought he was imagining it until he heard the rustle of robes. He stood up, purposely scraping his chair against the floor, and before the figure had time to turn, he was standing behind her with his wand pointed at her face.

"Don't move."

The figure froze. Snape caught a glimpse of long hair in the dim candlelight. He walked out from behind his desk and circled around the intruder, his black robes silently swirling around his feet.

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?"

"It's been months. I couldn't help it." Her voice cracked. "I had to see you, Severus."

He circled around her like a black leopard around prey, his body on full alert but his mind wondering how they'd gotten to this point. For this first time since she was twelve, they were not equals. She had become the prey to a dangerous predator the moment she had set foot in his office.

The longer he looked at her, the more he realized how much he had missed her. At some point during their time together, she had become his sun, his bright star in the midst of darkness, and he had been so lost without her light. . . .

"I told you, Miss Granger—"

"Hermione," she said. "Call me Hermione."

"I told you not to come here anymore."

"Please." He couldn't tell if she was crying or if it was a trick of the candlelight. "Don't push me away."

He redoubled his grip on his wand. "It's for your own good." It hurt him to say the words.

"I don't care." She took a step toward him. "I can't stand it. I want to be with you. Severus, I love—"

Not those words, he thought. Not those words, not them, we can't!

He acted without thinking. His non-verbal stunning spell hit her in the face, and as she collapsed, he caught her by the waist before she could hit the ground. He swung her legs up, carrying her effortlessly, cradling her close against his robes.

She looks so much like Lily this way, he thought. The candlelight made her hair appear almost reddish, and her features appeared softer and more innocent in unconsciousness. Give her a chance, he told himself. It's worth it. She's giving you her love. She's willing to be with you, even though you pushed her away. It's the second chance Lily never gave you.

He gently placed Hermione on his couch, cradling her head in his lap as he circled his wand above her head. "Enervate," he whispered, his deep voice slipping like velvet through the silence of the room.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing warm brown eyes that stared into his own. She sat up, keeping eye contact the entire time as she waited for his next move.

Severus didn't know what to say, or do, or even where these actions were coming from. He reached out and brushed a hand against her face, smiling a little as a faint blush colored her cheeks.

"You Stunned me," she said finally.

"I know." He swallowed. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." He leaned closer. "You know I have a tendency to push away anyone who gets close to me. But I realized...I—I love you, too, Hermione Granger. I can't help it."

Her eyes closed as she tilted her head back. After a moment, he realized it was an invitation.

With a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She melted into his frame, her hands coming up to pull him closer to her.

After a few seconds, they pulled apart. He rested his forehead against hers, marveling at her scent.

"I love you, Severus," she whispered, and his grin grew wider. He couldn't imagine ever growing tired of hearing those words.

"When do our Defense lessons start off again?" she asked brightly.

He laughed, a deep and contented sound, and bent to kiss her once again.

A/N - Quidditch League Fanfiction Contest

Season 4, Round 2, Hogwarts Subjects

Holyhead Harpies, Keeper

Prompt: Write about a student's relationship with their teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Word Count (Google Docs/Pages): 2,942

Special thanks to my amazing betas, Lizzie (TheNextFolchart) and Melody (MelodyPond77)!