A.N. Hi sorry I've not been writing I've been ill. Hope you enjoy. Warning: Attempted Non-Con (nothing too extreme though)

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"No. That's not right either - here just give it to me," Hermione sighed exasperatedly, leaning over to grab Severus' parchment.

Although Hermione had reconciled with Sirius and the Marauders she still spent most of her evenings with Severus in the library.

She reasoned that if she stayed in the common room with the others she would be doing just the same as she was in the library with only more essays to correct and less books to pursue.

Hermione was breezing through her sixth year work, completing her assignments with an ease that allowed her to undertake her extra research on time-travel.

Already through the available texts of the restricted section, meaning those books which would actually allow her to read them and did not try to bite her or burn her "dirty Mudblood hands" as they had decreed when she had tried to pry open the cover of a few of the darker books that were shelved there, Hermione was now on to the mundane perusal of the hundreds of magical history volumes in the hope of a glimmer of anything that may make mention of her rare predicament.

Severus although adept at potions, to Hermione's dismay, was much less proficient at Charms and Transfiguration which meant that about half of her time was spent fixing his work.

Severus would use this time, as Hermione spelled out his mistakes with her wand, to pick up whatever book Hermione had been reading in an attempt to discern what she was up to. Unfortunately for Severus every time he picked up her abandoned book he would only uncover a different section of magical history that had no recognisable connection to what she was reading the night before, or the night before that. It simply appeared that she was interested in History. Severus had screwed up his nose at the thought, scrapping the possibility that anyone could be interested in History after having Professor Binns as a teacher.

So as Hermione would hand back his parchment he would hand back her book and they would continue their respective work in silence, Severus with a look of disgruntled disgust on his face and Hermione hiding her amused smirk, knowing that he had once again failed to uncover the mystery behind 'her predisposition to magical history'.

It had been two weeks since the first full moon of the term when Severus and Hermione were once again ushered out of the Library by the snappy Librarian at five minutes past curfew.

Although they could have been given detention if they were caught by Filch, they did not hurry as Severus walked Hermione leisurely back to Gryffindor tower, as what had quickly become their nightly ritual. At first Hermione had insisted against the escort but he had simply refused to argue with her about it. A little affronted at being thought of needing a protector, Hermione had refused to talk to him on the way back to her rooms on the first night he had done so. Severus, however, had smirked the whole way back at her crossed arms and pursed mouth declaring as he left her at the portrait hole that he 'had finally discovered a way to shut her up without the enticement of a book'.

As disgruntled as an owl made to fly through a snow storm, she had not given him the satisfaction of a quiet night's walk since.

On this particular night, Hermione amused herself by reciting an old Shakespearean play that she remembered finding on the gloomy shelves of Grimmauld Place one boring night waiting for Harry's arrival.

Severus was only to glad to drop her off at the Gryffindor entrance with a hasty 'Goodnight'.

"Goodnight, oh fair Severus" she called to his retreating back melodically.

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