"Hey, you." Hermione smiled the greeting. It had been two weeks since she had seen her intended, and boy, had she missed him. Oh, how much things had changed. She recalled all the different obstacles they had overcome, and could hardly comprehend where they were now. The once sharp memory of him, laughing that it was "no wonder she hadn't got any friends" had softened. All the bitter separations, quarrels, stony silences, mixed signals, jealousy and miscommunication paled to memories like their first kiss, him saving her from a troll, and treasured summers at the Burrow.
It had been two years of peace, two years of pre-marital bliss. And finally, after all this time, she could look at her left hand when she was lonely and know that everything was right in the world. No longer were they the young, bickering best friends of Harry Potter; they were mature, distinguished (albeit young) adults. It made her so happy, and yet regretfully wistful at the same time- the old days weren't so bad, between all the near death experiences, ex-lovers and various tragedies... she missed them in a way. But she smiled softly, thinking of how much better a "good old days" her- their- children had to look forward to.
"Hey, yourself, love," Ron grinned back. His smile never changed. He enveloped her in a gentle embrace. Hermione savored the strength and simultaneous tenderness of his arms, breathing against his freckle-dusted neck. He kissed her hair and reached for her hand, and they began walking along the familiar corridor towards Hermione's private rooms.
"How was the mission?" she inquired, eyebrows raised in what she hoped was mere nonchalant curiousity.
"Oh, it was... eh, how to put it?" Ron trailed off, grimacing slightly. "A little too uneventful?" He struggled a bit, before altering his pronouncement. "Completely unproductive, utter rubbish waste of time." He rolled his eyes. Hermione wrinkled her nose in sympathy, and secretly thanked Merlin for this. She had worried more than she allowed him to know.
"I'm sorry, Ron. What made them allot so many resources to it? Was there a tip?" Ron tilted his head side to side, apparently trying to decide the best way to phrase his thoughts.
"Yeah, but from a semi-reliable sources. They were so eager to get a lead on him that they put the cart before the thestral. Sent me and two other trainees, along with three fully-qualified Aurors. It was a bloody flobberworm in the cabbage compost chase. Spent most of my time dawdling," he grumbled.
Hermione was thoroughly perplexed by this strange account, but wrote it off as Ministry incompetency.
"So much damn bureaucracy, 'Mione. It almost makes me envy your job," he grumbled. Hermione laughed. My, my. How times had changed indeed.
"Bureaucracy, huh? Been reading, Ronald?" She gave him a friendly jab in the side. He smiled back at her, if only a little stiffly.
"You know me, love. I'm a regular bookworm. Used to forgo social activities to hole up and read my textbooks for a nightcap." She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand. She much preferred this comfortable teasing to the merciless battles they'd engaged in during their school years.
"Well, at least you don't have to deal with teacher politics." Her face clouded with mild frustration and dry humor.
"Politics, huh? Like that greasy git from the dungeons?" he joked, half in malice and half in a miscalculated stab at sympathy.
"Ron! You shouldn't call him that! You shouldn't have when we were in school either. He's one of the greatest heroes of the war, both of them! Not to mention what he's done for Harry," she looked at him pointedly. Ron looked slightly remorseful, but also was getting stirred up. His ears were tinted red-they absentmindedly had let go of one another's hands.
"I know, Hermione, I know! I'm just joking, so get your wand out of your arse. I know he's a bloody war hero, so are we! But that doesn't mean that I have to like him. He made a lot of my time miserable!" Hermione felt a bit of anger bubbling to the surface, and felt taken aback by it. Why, why, did she and Ron have to fight now? Their first conversation in two weeks, and they were already having it out. And over Severus bloody Snape, too.
"First of all, don't you dare tell me to get my wand out of my arse again, Ronald Weasley. I'll owl your mother, and don't think I won't. It's very disrespectful. And secondly, you greatly exaggerate the amount of so-called misery Snape caused you during school. If you don't want a bloody detention, don't bloody well do something to deserve it," she huffed, her expression growing cross. Ron continued to get more red.
"I can't believe you still stick up for that prick!"
"Ron!" she exclaimed, halting and turning to face him. He stopped where he was, steam practically spewing from his ears. "I've had enough of your foul mouth. What's gotten into you? We've barely been together five minutes and you're having a go. I thought you'd gotten past this... this... petty childhood dislike! I thought you understood that he is a colleague of mine now, a man who deserves respect- not to mention thanks! All the times he's saved our skins, all the things he's done for years trying to protect Harry and the wizarding world, and all you can do is call him a greasy git! It's like you're still thirteen sometimes, Ron!" she scolded him, exasperatedly.
"Yeah, well, it's like you're still my bloody conscience! I meant it as a bit of fun, Hermione, not as-"
"As what, Ronald? As a disrespectful, not to mention hurtful comment?"
"Since when does my insulting Snape hurt you?"
"Ron, you don't even know Severus, you don't even try to understand him, not even a little. And while I certainly disapprove of your little nickname, I think the hurt if would inflict upon him if he were to hear you say it would be most damaging of all. Can you have a little compassion for him, Ron? His life has never been an easy one, you know this," Hermione pleaded, trying to keep her tone level. Her hair looked particularly wild, framing her flaming cheeks. She kept her clenched fists in check by her side. Ron scowled darkly; Hermione could tell that he was boiling inside, barely containing it within his head.
"Right. I'm going to go and see Hagrid. I'll see you for dinner, all right?" he explained tersely, before pivoting and stalking off angrily in the direction that they had come. Hermione closed her eyes, and attempted to tame her rage. She paced in front of the stone wall several seconds before releasing a mangled yell of exasperation and recklessly hurtling her fist into it. Immediately her stomach clenched in violent shock. Her knuckles made a cracking sound, and her legs melted from underneath her. "DAMMIT!" she cursed, cradling her excruciating injury with her other hand. She didn't even know how to process or soothe an injury like a broken hand, she just grasped her wrist and rocked on her knees, trying to calm her mind.
"Miss Granger?" she heard a deep voice from behind her. She whipped her head around to see none other than the Potions Master himself standing before her.
"Oh, thank Merlin... Professor Snape, I think I broke my hand," she said through clenched teeth. He looked at her through his tired, yet calculating eyes and knelt beside her. She bit her lip, fighting back tears that threatened to break through the shock.
"May I see your hand, Miss Granger," he said in his low, monotone voice. She slowly extended it to him. He gently held it in his palm as he examined it, noting where bruises were already beginning to form and where the stone had scraped her skin. She trembled at his touch, remarkably careful and firm. His hands were slightly rough, from years of dirty work and working with chemicals. But even through her pain, she examined his hand as he turned hers over, and couldn't help but think to herself that they were quite beautiful. He withdrew his wand from within his robes. He tapped her hand delicately with the tip, watching the purple and blue ebb away and the small nicks and gashes on her skin to reform into it's normal smooth, unblemished appearance. The gut-wrenching pain she had felt only moments before receded into mild nausea and trembling. He helped her to her feet and stowed his wand away.
"Thank you, Professor," she said, flexing her hand carefully and trying to regain her composure. Her emotions were so confused-a minute before she had been seething angry. Then she had been in excessive and mind-numbing pain. Now, she felt suddenly much older and much more tired than she really was; and she felt gratitude and sadness for the man who had helped her.
"It's the least I could do, Miss Granger," he replied, face unreadable and voice expressionless.
"Hermione, please," she requested, offering a tiny smile. He twitched at this, unsure of what to make of it.
"As you wish. If it troubles you anymore, see Madam Pomfrey or myself."
"I will, sir, I appreciate it. I'm so glad you happened along, I probably would've sat there in shock the rest of the night if you hadn't," she said, doing her best to show him how grateful she was. He nodded tersely at this, struggling with civility.
"Good evening, Miss-" he halted at her significant, hopeful look. "Hermione," he finished, sweeping off on his way. He hadn't walked five paces before he turned and looked at her quizzically.
"Am I to understand you struck your fist against the castle wall?" Hermione blushed.
"Er, yes, sir. I did." His eyebrows furrowed and his lips thinned, betraying his befuddlement.
"May I inquire as to what possessed you to do such a, forgive me, foolish thing?" He was now facing her head on, hands crossed regally behind his back.
"I... I had a fight with my fiance, that's all, sir. I was so upset I didn't even think about it... just threw it." She attempted to laugh at herself with a little shrug of her shoulders and a twisted smile. His eyes seemed to narrow at this, and she felt an uncomfortable stab of shame at her immature behavior and lack of self-control.
"I see," he said. He paused a moment longer, staring at her face. She tried to remain stoic and poised, despite his disconcerting gaze. Finally, he nodded, and continued walking away. As he rounded the corner, she sighed. A tear leaked out of her eye. She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware of the fact that she had not cried in her pain at all. Now, suddenly, the tears unleashed themselves- but her sorrow was for her relationship. She stood there for several seconds, teardrops sliding down her pale cheeks and down her neck. She leaned against the wall, slid down it and huddled herself on the floor. Burying her head between her knees, she began to sob in earnest and never noticed the shadowy figure that crept back along the corridor, feeling his old pain afresh in his own breast as he looked on.