Hermione spread out the parchment carefully, running her fingers along the list written in her own neat handwriting. She smoothed out the corners, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere and the presence of the man on the other side of the room. She could feel distaste rolling off him in waves. She thought she could feel an occasional hateful stare on her back, but maybe her imagination was running wild. The big lump of guilt that sat in her stomach didn't help the whole affair, either. Why did she have to be stuck here, with him, of all people?

She never thought she would be back at Grimmauld Place. In the two years since Voldemort's death, she had been working hard on finishing her N.E.W.T.s, then had been offered a position at the Ministry of Muggle Affairs, a newly implemented branch of government. She had tried to bury the past and her traumatic experiences. Consequently, she did not really stay in touch with many of her old friends. Contact had withered and dried up to an occasional owl. Harry was the only one she still saw on a regular basis, if you could call it that. Her nights were still filled with nightmares of the battle at Hogwarts, but they were fewer now. She'd been to counselling sessions with a muggle therapist and worked out her problems as best as she could – as far as that was possible without revealing anything about magic, wizards, wands and the like.

She thought she had finally gotten her act together and then the past had come crashing back with force. Harry had turned up on her doorstep with tales of a remaining Death Eater faction. The last survivors that had fled to all corners of the globe after the battle appeared to have grouped together. There were whispers about a hidden artifact, of a rebellion, maybe a war to come.

The next thing she knew, she was back at Grimmauld Place, in a surreal atmosphere, surrounded by people from the past, planning how to best proceed with the upcoming rebellion. They were sitting together at the kitchen table, and it could have been a snapshot from three years ago, had it not been for the eyes that looked so much older, and for some seats that stayed empty. Still, Hermione cherished seeing her friends again. Suddenly having all of them together again had been a strange experience. After some first timid and slightly awkward hugs and embraces, they slowly slid into their old, easy friendship and bantering.

Even seeing Ron hadn't been so bad. After the final battle, they had tried for some weeks to make it work, but Hermione had been more than relieved when they had finally called it quits. They had been friendly but distant since, and in the last couple of months they had not seen or heard from each other at all. Still, she found she was happy to see him. He was one of her oldest and best friends, and they still could laugh together; although sometimes she found herself studying him, wondering what she had ever seen in him. His goofiness had been fun when she had been a teenager, but nowadays she had to suppress a cringe at some of his antics.

After a few days she had settled in comfortably and deeply enjoyed the company and the friendly routines of the household.

But then, again, her world had been upended. Aberforth Dumbledore had arrived in an aura of stealth and mystery, gathering them together in the library, having them swear to secrecy of what he was about to reveal to them. He gave them all stern, warning looks, and started speaking.

….

Hermione was only aware of the first half of his speech. Her body sat in shock, processing what it had just heard. Her brain had tuned out everything else that had come after that one vital piece of information – Severus Snape was alive! They had whisked him away into hiding after rescuing him from the Shrieking Shack, but the details had been droned out by the buzz in her head.

She was shaken out of her stupor by the sounds of scraping chairs and muffled goodbyes. She jumped up and tried to arrange her features into something that would not give away her inner turmoil.

"It'll be strange, don't you think?"

"Hmm?" Hermione turned to Harry, trying to focus on the here and now. "What's going to be strange?"

"Seeing Snape again after all that has happened. Living with him under one roof!"

Hermione's cup slipped from her hand, and she jerked clumsily to catch it before it hit the floor. "Living under one roof?!" She hoped the paniky, squeaky undertone of her voice was only part of her imagination.

Harry studied her, bemused. He tipped a finger on her forehead. "What is going on in there? I've never seen you not pay attention in a meeting. Snape is to arrive tomorrow. He'll be in hiding here at Grimmauld Place until further notice."

She had lain in bed that night, awake, wrecked by bouts of guilt and shame. In her fifth year in Hogwarts, she had done something horrible to Professor Snape. At the time, she had thought of it as a clever payback for his unfair behavior towards his students. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit it had been mostly payback for her own hurt pride and feelings. It had only been in her later years and growing maturity that she had understood the ruthless extent of what she had done. Her shame had grown by the day, and she had found herself unable to meet his eyes anymore. Not that he would have treated her with anything but indifference and distaste, anyway. The only time she had ever met his eyes purposely again had been when he had died in the Shrieking Shack – or so she had thought. And now she would have to meet him again – live under the same roof! Guilt was churning in her stomach worse than ever.