A/N - So, as a friendly heads up, I have super dyslexia. :) I do take your comments seriously and there have been some edits but I can't catch them all. If there's a bothersome edit that needs to be done feel free to hit me up and let me know. I can go over 100000 times and I'll still miss something. Lol. Thank you for the support! Enjoy the next chapter.

The Mourning of Answers

Hermione wouldn't see her ex-professor until the next night when she returned to The Burrow for dinner. She had spent that Saturday at her home alone once Ron left. The day was unproductive and spent in quite a fidgety headspace. It had been five years since the war and if you told Hermione Granger that she'd be so alone in life as she was now, she wouldn't have believed you one bit. With the death of The Dark Lord came the flash of lightning limelight that she wouldn't be able to handle. It was too soon, to fast, too many quills recording all her words while no one asked her how she felt…. just what horrors she had seen. Reliving the worst over and over again had left its strain, the unrelenting attention pushing into her own burrow.

Her relationship with Ronald was a celebrity act but while Ginny and Harry could fall into the status perfectly, Hermione and Ron seemed to become overwhelmed as their own experiences plagued them. The two drank a lot when they were together which every time would lead to loose, almost meaningless sex. They were in a relationship mostly because that's what the newspapers told them they were in when in real life they only saw each other a few times a week where they would spend a night at an event, have dinner, and then head back to a bar or the eithers home to drink and snog and take out sexual tension until the morning when they'd leave for work.

It was a decent relationship and Ron treated her well…. but it was still a very empty courtship.

Hermione had moved away into a forest cottage that resembled something like Hagrid's hut though much bigger and with a few defined rooms. There's an open kitchen that lead into the common space, a study for her work, there's a guest room for people that weren't Ron and then the bathroom and of course her own master bedroom. Surrounded by trees and forest life, it was simply beautiful and serene and while Hermione attended all her own events, rarely was anything thrown at her own private residence. She's fallen into the solitary life and with the end of Hogwarts, in a way, came the end of the Golden trio. They were all still very close but Harry was busy with Ginny and everyone was busy with work. The childhood time off was now just a memory buried in bills and expectations as with Voldemort gone there didn't seem to be any more adventures left to have... And where Hermione assumed for all those years that she'd cope with normality, she couldn't. So, she drank…

She drank when she was happy, she drank when she was sad. At parties and events, there was always booze and she always ordered at least two glasses with her dinner and something warm and mixed for dessert. There was a specific alcoholic drink that tended to ward off the night terrors so she drank that too... "Terrys Allikans" is a sharp Irish cream that she mixed heavily with hot cocoa before bed every single night. Some had mentioned concerns, but she didn't see a problem with anything as long as it didn't affect her work. And those were Ron's words before they were hers, she would have reminded you when you pried...

Her work…

She worked a rather personable job with the community just like she had always wanted to do.. But she had never accounted to how people actually were when they weren't talking to children. They were rude things who took her authority as a threat and instantly acted back harshly. She tried to help people, she did and tired honestly. She fought for Muggle and Magic acceptance and the rights of creatures and pets but with this came so many regulations and rules that were her job to uphold and therefore threaten if indeed they were broken. People didn't like this… and rarely they took her words of fair warning respectfully. At home in her study, she was mapping a theory about adding electricity that she would never show anyone anyway. An off grid method of reusable power that no one wanted to hear…

It wasn't odd that she returned to The Burrow for dinner, though, she wouldn't mention that this time it was mostly because of Snape. He had taken to meals that were blended and liquified by Mrs. Weasley who had casually mentioned to her that it was because he was having problems with solids. Hermione had seen empty cups return but the teacher himself wouldn't show his face to the light for reasons Hermione felt like she lightly understood. She didn't know why she thought of him so obsessively but had indeed thought of him all night, his being only washed away with the hard tonics that Ron supplied, but besides that, she thought of him. It wasn't too strange though, she had always hyper-fixated on things that confused her and right now, Professor Snape was that thing..…

She didn't yet know how she felt about his return because there were so many things to feel. Hatred, anger, resentment, and distrust. All those things until that final year when the story of everything unfolded for her and those who read the Daily Prophet. She was proud of him, she reveled in his home-owned intelligence and was remorseful for the pain in which he chose to go through as well as the sacrifices that he subjected himself under. She was understanding because much of what he did he had done for them. She longed for a time to speak with him alone where he would answer some of her questions or just be there to hear some of the things she wanted to say. That could have been the other night in the kitchen, but she was in shock much like the rest of the house had been in. She also felt regret for the hatred she once held. She had always figured him alive, never knowing why, but for some reason, she had a hard time letting him go. But it was easier when he was gone, at least this draw of awaiting and questions didn't pull her in through the front door of The Burrow. Physically brightening when she entered the kitchen, she saw Mrs. Weasley blending another drink as she cooked up dinner and smiled.

"That for, Professor Snape?" She asked in passing and Molly would lookup and greet her warmly.

"Yes. Actually, do me a favor, love. Bring this to him for me? I have somethings I need to pay attention to down here. Oh! And Harry is here, up in Remus's bedroom."

"Harry's here?" She smiled as she took the large cup. "He does love living here when Ginny's away, doesn't he?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her. "It's always nice to have him in.."

"Have you spoken to him?" Hermione asked gesturing to her cup.

A small, sad smile broke over her lips. "No. At this point, I'm sure he can't talk… Not that he spoke all that much before but I'll be honest, it's nice to have a break from all that oily sarcasm… But I feel like the shock of him being here is wearing off." She nodded her head. "We plan to talk to him tonight about… everything. We don't mind him staying here… But, we need to be aware of some things."

With a wave of her hand, Hermione watches Molly magick the spoon to move through the gravy as another wave turned down the burners but Hermione knew the woman would taste the food herself. And so, fresh through the swinging door, Hermione was starting up the stairs with her bag on her shoulder and a cup of dark purple liquid in one hand, ascending up until the flash of green slows her stride. Adjusting the bag, she squares off in front of the green door. Raising her fist, she pauses, then knocks her knuckles against the wood. She waits. Nothing. She knocks again and waits again but when she knocks for the third time the door is opened swiftly and the very physical shadow of her most feared professor appears in the space in the crack of the door. He looks like a painting; a ghostly hospital patient against a black backdrop with a thin face and sallow complexion. One hand is on the door, his wrapped handicap still hanging at his side as his shoulder leans against the threshold.

His head cocks and she shakes herself out of her waiting. She, like Molly, had expected to hear something harsh and rude. She expected something sarcastic or angry for her knocking so many times. But nothing… not even a hissed, questioning hello. He looks as though he had just woken up and had pulled himself out of bed. He didn't even have a robe on which allowed her to note the buttoning hospital top and the baggy dingy hospital scrub pants. She wondered for a moment if he would gather any of his own clothes at some point…. Then she thought about his flat and if it even existed anymore.

"Umm." She shakes her thoughts from her head. "Here. Molly asked me to give this to you since I was on my way to see Harry and Remus."

She extends the cup and his eyes drop to the clear cased drink. He looks back to her and holds on her for a moment with an unreadable, exhausted stare before he releases his hand from the door and takes the tall glass from her. She can't help but look at the notch of his right arm where a bandage is wrapped around his elbow keeping the IV in place. Under that and stopping at his wrist was a black tattoo of a long image she couldn't distinguish. She quickly drops her eyes when she feels his heat upon her. Without a word or motion of thanks, the door is slammed in her face and shes again alone in the staircase.

"Hey, you guys." Hermione sighs as she shuts the bedroom door behind her as she entered Remus's bedroom.

"Hey! Hermione!" Harry was up out of the armchair and was hugging her tightly. "How are you! How was work?"

"Good. Good. All good. I was to remove a house elf from an abusive home though now, he keeps arguing his return to the family so we're setting up a meeting about either freeing the elf or giving him a wage and abuse counseling."

"You've always been an empathetic one." Remus smiled as he sat up.

"How are you?" She hugs Remus.

"I'm tired." he sighed. "I swear I felt the house shiver last night. Must have been when he came in."

"He?" Hermione asked as she placed her bag on the bed and sat next to Remus.

"Snape." Harry informed. "We were just talking about it."

"Seems everyone is."

"It's unexpected." Remus grit, unusually angry.

"Ron said it might not even be him." She tried but Remus shook his head.

"I know that git better than anyone in this house… It's him…. I know it."

She sighed and looked between the two knowing she wouldn't find welcome warmth here. They were both seemingly upset which was odd because Harry rallied so hard for the man to have a headmaster's portrait. Remus though, he was uncharacteristically out of place.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked and Remus shook his head. "He's a cockroach Hermione… Even when he wants to die…. He won't.."

"So! Harry." Hermione almost violently attempted to change the mood, "Ginny! Did you see that she won her last game!"

"I did." He sighed, clearly happy by the news but too distraught to carry on. Usually, the happiest places were right here, but as she sat in silence she felt as if she was in the potions classroom again.

"What do you think Snape wants?" Harry would ask the room.

Remus shrugged and the bag was back over her shoulder and she was slowly rising to her feet. "I'm going to go help, Mrs. Weasley. Maybe check in on Arthur."

The two nodded their heads and she closed the door behind her. She'd be slow as she passed the silent green door for a few steps but eventually would pick back up her speed, reaching the kitchen to talk to Molly who was busy and with not much to say so she wandered outside and found Arthur working in the shed.

"Hi, Mr. Weasley." She smiled as she entered the overstocked and piled space, the man looking up with a smile behind a pair of magnifying glasses over his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to examine how muggles run these clocks as well as they do. Did you know there's a single muggle clock that had run for almost 80 years without repair? That's some longevity, my dear, Hermione."

She'd sit on a stool across the workbench from Arthur and sighed.

"Everything all right?"

"Harry and Remus won't stop talking about Snape and Molly is too busy so I thought I'd come out here."

"Well, it's always good to see you, Hermione." He smiled as he twists the screwdriver. "I wish my son would come around as much as you both do."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

The father sighed, "he's just so distant. I've tried writing to him but he never gets back to me unless it's something serious." He looked up at Hermione. "You two are together, do you know if he's mad at us?"

Lowering her eyes on the table, she picks the wood with her fingernail. "We aren't really together… We see each other… But honestly, that's all paper talk. In the last few years, he's grown distant from me as well. But I'm sure it's not much of what you've done so much that he's busy."

"Do you think it's all work?" Arthur asked avoiding eye contact.

"I don't know why he'd lie but at the same time…" She watched him place the screwdriver as she spoke. "I've never gone to where he works."

"Yes.. Even with all the Ministry workers, I have yet to really find the address of where he works…." He shakes his head as if he were wiping away the dark thoughts. "Anyway, according to this clock, it's almost dinner time. I bet we can help Molly set up. If not, we should get the other two together and get George from his room and start settling down. Let's go."

Dinner would go through with just the six of them and after they had formed in the living room before the fire. Harry is playing wizards chess with Remus in the corner as Hermione read a book on the couch as Arthur worked on something mechanical over a small fold-out table. George was drawing and had hardly said a word to anyone all day and even now stayed at the back of the room. The candlelight that kept the house warm was comfortably dim, a large, warm fire in the hearth acting as the main light.

She had seen him first because she had finally decided on her third drink of the night. Something warm… Something in the kitchen... Appearing before her as she rounded the threshold was the very disheveled Snape in all his disheveled glory sitting where he had been just the other night. She hadn't heard him come down the stairs and hadn't heard the pot land on the stove. But there he was, just as he had been just last night. The liquid in the pot steams and everything was like it was but this time the kitchen is far more lit and the scene far more real. He was still wearing the same muck green scrubs under the same dark black robe that wasn't his. He feet were still bare but in Hermione's opinion everything, including himself, looked washed. His hair hung a bit longer, and he looked just a bit older but his eyes were the same cold, well black holes. She watched him lean forward, the pronounced light of the room exposing the teacher of shadows.

Slowly, she walked up to him, glancing behind her towards the threshold as she reminded herself to speak softly.

"Professor," she greets.

His eyebrow quirked which was when she remembered he couldn't actually talk which made her feel like she was at a zoo; as if she were holding a venomless snake or petting a toothless dragon. There was a clear, obvious threat before her but there was no roar and the creature was too tired for any massive swing. She lands at the island again, leaning her hip against it as she watches his fingers lace around the countertop edge as he squared off.

"I wouldn't sit on that," she tells him. "Molly will throw a fit."

She wanted to sound light-hearted but he wouldn't return the gesture, or maybe he did because his head tilts to the side and he pushed himself off the counter, sliding his body off until his feet touched the floor soundlessly. She watched him as he walked up to her slowly, each step looking heavy, his jaw set but loose and he'd step right up to her until he stood inches from her. Her breath caught within her as he lowered himself closer, stretching his arm out and…. taking the cup that sat at her side.

As he backs up she releases a heavy weighted breath and looks down, using her hair to mask her blushing cheeks. He uses magic to pour the hot water into the cup and by the time Harry entered the kitchen, Snape was already with his back against the counter next to the stove, both feet together, weight distributed in his legs as even as he could. Suddenly, she felt foolish as she looked at him looking at her, realizing now why he chose to sit. The pole was still at his side, the plastic bag more than half empty, he was still tired and obviously weakened.

"Professor Snape." Harry's voice radiated shock, causing Hermione to flinch in surprise as she looked behind her to Harry who stood stalk, staring at his old professor. As predicted, Remus came into the room next before Arthur and Molly and lastly, George.

She turned back and watched her teacher adjust his position, crossing his ankles as he takes a sip of his tea as he eyed over the small group who stared at him. He nods and lowers his cup that he will hold in two hands, showing his missing fingers which stand as the elephant in the room.

"Where've you been?" Remus asks bluntly from behind her, and Professor Snape will raise his eyebrow.

A moment later Molly moves her way into the room and lands a piece of parchment on the kitchen island beside her. Before backing away, she'll give it a soft push towards Severus who had just glanced at it. Hermione would watch him breathe out of his nose and nod his head as his heel taps against the floor before he pushes into a stand. He sways, but he'll use his cup to gesture them into the living room where they'd followed him to, his arm hooked around the IV pole that he kept at his side like a beloved partner. He'd motion for them to sit down and they would. Harry and Remus together, Hermione in the nearby armchair, wife and husband on the couch, the lonely twin standing alone in the shadows. Snape clears his throat as she watched him slip by her and place himself at the side of the fireplace, the candles dimming as he leans his weight against the mantel He looked so tired, but so very in his place, as he stood before a sitting, waiting crowd and after a moment he'd pull out a purple and black drawstring bag that he opens easily. Hermione knows this product, Tellers Powder, and she'll watch him as he took a small handful of the black and silver powder. He'd glance at Molly before casually tossing the powder into the flame.

The room is suddenly enveloped in black smoke that birthed from the mantle and surrounded them all, swirling an unsure and foggy scene. A white, smoky vision of a very large snake strikes a figure that falls limply into a sit as another figure walks away from the scene… From the darkness, they hear a ghostly screaming that comes from all around them... A group of cloudy, white-faced wizards in robes appear in a puff and push a wispy gurney away into a puff of smoke. There are scenes that resemble a surgery… Men circling the gurney, waving hands, and then there's nothing but whiteness that would fade to nothing. This meant there was more that was locked away in the mind of the summoner. The fog fades and everyone reconnects themselves to the room around them. Remus will be the first to speak.

"And?" He asks roughly.

Severus's brow furrows as the werewolf leans forward in his chair, eyes passing to Harry before the ex-teacher.

"Look, I respect what torture and choices you took upon yourself as a spy. We know the story of what you did for Albus and the redemption you took… yadayada yada….. But, you told me you'd be gone. You told me you planned on dying."

He nodded, his eyes heavy on Remus as the man stared back more confused as ever.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

Remus would speak hauntingly grim and with narrowed eyes. "We had a talk, Severus and I…. Over heavy drinks… He promised he'd be out of my hair, he promised he didn't intend to fight off any blackness he meets. But, here he is…. Severus, you had to have this planned, I mean….. If not… you're suggesting you were followed? Like you were chosen to survive?"

"Remus, you're pushing a lot of assumptions," Molly commented.

"But he hasn't attempted to correct me once."

Hermione is watching Severus, she watched his head drop as he's retold promises and then he glances at the clear hanging bag he won't touch. His fingers will fidget as he holds the cup but he'll shift to a more comfortable stand and Remus will catch his gaze to the staircase.

"No." The wolf chuckled. "You can't just show up here after 5 years of...nothing… and hide. Molly and Arthur deserve some answers and I think at this point so do we all. Shock value is up, Severus."

"He's shown us what he remembers," Molly says quietly.

"No… He's shown what he remembers of his memories. There's more in there… More his mind has blocked…"

"And maybe there's a reason for it." Arthur tried.

"We'll see." Remus is up and out of his chair and uncharacteristically Snape was the one who took a step back from the fury of the wolf who smirked before landing at the mantel across from him. "Severus, show me your left forearm."

If the man could pale he would have but there wasn't any more sallow his sickly skin could get.

"Come on, mate. Let me see the forearm."

"Remus-" Molly tried.

"Wait. Severus! Your arm!"

The men were so very uncharacteristic at that moment that Hermione adjusted herself in her chair as to find at least a comfortable position to sit as their cold touched her joints. Remus was sharp and demanding, strong stanced and angry… Severus stood on weak legs with bent shoulders, his eyes holding on Remus but his features looking far more on the defense. The men stare off in silence before Severus lifts the bandaged arm. Stepping up, Remus grabs the bandage which sent a sharp jolt of pain through the teacher who would hiss angrily but allow his arm to be held. She leaned forward in the chair as Remus unraveled the bandage who waited a moment before pulling off the gauze pad. The room is heavy and Hermione watches as the two men look at each other before Remus pulls away the blood-stained gauze.

The Dark Mark is not so black anymore. Instead, it's a serrated mess in what looked like quite a few frantic sessions of manic and blind self-harm. The only slice along the flesh that didn't look so self inflicted was a scar from the fang of the snake. It's the deepest scar as it was the thickest, and it cut from Severus's wrist, down until it split the head of the snake. It was a wound that looked as if it could have killed him if the ripping of his neck didn't. The way the skin had healed over the many years and sessions has set the Dark Mark off in chunks that healed a bit too far to the left and right, broken by paths of white. Many of the lines don't touch anymore but some were wounds that were still relatively fresh.

"So you've been awake. In five years, you've been awake at least...twice before.."

She watched the professor staring down at his arm as if he hadn't seen the wounds before and she noticed the bandage showed. It hadn't been changed and the inside was dyed with dark reds, the wounds on his flesh under medicated and puffy. When Remus finally releases his arm Severus lowered it, finding Molly at his side with a first aid kit quickly taking to cleaning and rewrapping. Hermione quietly notices that he won't push her away but Remus will give her a dark glance as she gives aid.

Snape will shrug his shoulder as his answer.

"Okay, Remus." Arthur rose and stepped over to the men. "I think we're done with th-"

"Try and talk."

"Remus!" Arthur scolded and Remus simmers.

"He can't talk," Hermione sighed.

And this fact seemed to take off a bit of heat. Regardless of what Remus wanted or how he felt, the scars along the mans jaw and throat told stories that he couldn't fight. To think the man's voice was ripped with his throat was something Remus couldn't argue and he'll glance back at Severus giving him the once over before huffing. He steps up and leans into Severus, his eyes on the eyes of his enemy.

"And you're high?"

"Remus!" Arthur now sounded exasperated..

"Elixir of Ice," Remus flicks the bag. "Hermione."

She jumped at the sharpness of his voice and looked at Remus who continued, "Do you know anything about Elixir of Ice?"

Slowly she'd nod, her eyes falling onto the professor as she prepared herself for another one of the classrooms responses.

"Elixir of Ice." She starts as her potions teacher watched her in her seat. "Umm... It's a multi-use agent for internal damages mostly aiding in tissue reconnection and overall bone and muscle regrowth. Used for critical patients, it's a body numb as well as a coagulant as to control bleedings. Also used for its anti-anxiety side-effects."

"Very good." Remus complimented as more of a teacher than she guessed he meant. "It's also addictive… isn't it, Professor Snape?"

If someone was going to say anything and if this conversation was going to be had, it was suddenly forsaken by the official-sounding knocking on the front door. The sound of the four strong wraps carries an aura that strikes Snape in the heart. He was high on the drip, yes that was true so he didn't realize his composure fell, but Hermione had watched his eyes widened with the straightening of his back and shoulders. Remus quirked his head but like much like she, he would remain silent to what he saw. Molly was up, finishing the final clasp of his band and dropping his arm that he'd check by twisting in the firelight.

"We'll rewrap your hand later." She whispered as Arthur rose.

The father had felt something as well because for such a warm style home, Arthur rose with some conviction. He leaves everyone starting from the living room, Severus stepping out of the line of sight, choosing to lower himself onto the arm on the chair aside George who glanced at him oddly but didn't move away. They all wait and listen as they heard Arthur pulled open the door.

"Good evening," Arthur spoke, right away his tone indicating cautionary professionalism.

The voice that responds with interest is a low, wavering tone. A males voice but one that sent a shiver up Severus's spine and instantly rose the hair on the back of his neck.

"Good evening. May we speak to either owner of the home, please?"

We. There's more than one.

"I am the owner." Arthur continues. "My wife is in the other room with our guests."

"A bit late to have guests?"

"Not in this house."

An awkward silence pulls Molly from the room and out to her husband.

"Hello!" She pulls on that cheer of hers, wiping her hands on her apron, "How can we help you four?"

We…. There's four at the door. Severus dips his head as he listened closer.

"We're looking for someone we think you might know."

'Oh? Who?" She asked in quite a cheer.

"Can we come in?"

She laughed. "Bit late for strangers who have yet to introduce themselves."

Another silence. Strangers. There are both men and women in the group.

"Have you seen, Severus Snape?"

The bluntness was cold and said with enough power to waver even Mrs. Weasley's comfort.

"He's dead." She sighed. "Haven't you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"That Death Eaters took his body and rid of it. Burned it to ash that would be left to scatter itself."

"And where did you hear that?"

"Well, I was there that day. I saw the masked men whisk him away myself. No one else I know wears masks. So…"

"Hm. What about the ash part?"

"Dinnertime, chatter. Why? Is he alive? Is he in England?"

She speaks with growing excitement, as if a dream were being born and here the man is quite. Severus, on the other hand, was looking as if he were going to melt. Like a waiting meercat or a listening rabbit, he sits ready to flee, something primal telling him to run as he stays in his seat. This unsettles Hermione greatly and she looks to Harry for support who was too busy looking out the room to notice her.

"Perhaps." They hear his voice speak with grim irritability. "I'm just here on a hunch. Thank you for your time."

'Oh, no! You must come in for tea!" They hear Molly suddenly excited, "I want to hear all about these rumors. Harry, dear." She calls from the kitchen. "Harry Potter, they have new rumors of Prof-"

"That won't be necessary. Thank you for your time."

It would be a very short time after that when those in the living room would hear the front door close and lock. A few steps later, both appear back in the room and Severus straightens up even higher with eyes expecting but Molly would start off towards the drawing supplies with her husband following loyally, putting his hand up to indicate silence for the few who had so many questions. While they waited for Molly to finish drawing, Hermione would here end up meeting eyes with Snape in passing and she'll give him shrug to which he'll move off without any indication to her. The picture is drawn a few minutes later and Molly rushes over placing the large white drawing pad onto the teachers lap.

"He is who was at the door." She says quietly.

Hermione couldn't see the picture as Severus was too far away but she could read the hints of his usually mute expression. He looks troubled, deeply troubled. She watched his fingers touch the page with his full hand before looking up at Molly who stood over his shoulder and sighed.

"I don't remember… I remember seeing it.. I remember remembering it… But now… as I think back… I don't know what the design was."

He'd scowl and quickly folded the picture before passing it back to Molly who would let him keep it for now. The face was clearly a demon in his mind, a phantom of something terrible that radiated through his physical self. She feels his discomfort and again sees him glance at the bag for assurance, eyeing the name for a moment before he leans back against the chair. George had seen the image too but had since met eyes and sent messages with Remus who sat beside Harry who had his arms crossed.

"Well," Remus said suddenly as he stood up. "I think I'll go back to Grimmauld place before we're raided."

"Remus!"

"Molly." He gave a smile. "I'm joking. But that was enough for me to know it's time for bed." He glanced back over to Severus, "We're going to talk later."

Giving the wolf a nod to make him happy, the man he was couldn't help but let his lip raise as Remus turned to leave for the staircase and his own private dwelling.

"I'm off too," George said glancing at Snape who was still sitting nearly right at his side. "Night…"

And then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were next and Harry would leave quickly when he realized he would be left in a room with Snape. The teacher would keep his spot, ignoring Granger as not to give her and sign that would make her stay.

"Hermione. Come on, I want to show you something."

"I'll be up in a minute." She returned, which seemed to surprise them as Snape turned his head and side-eyed her curiously.

"I'm going to get some water, then I'll be up."

"Okay," Harry cautiously as he looked at Snape. "Professor," his voice quiet "Welcome back."

Shed leave Snape alone as she went into the kitchen and a part of her hoped he'd still be there when she returned while the majority of her just wanted that warm cup of Terrys Allikans. When she came back with the bottle and warm cup of hot coca, she slowed when she saw he was still there. Well, he had moved out of the corner and had taken a seat on the armchair aside the fireplace, his ankles crossed his thumb by his mouth as he appeared to be biting his nail.

"Here." She hands him the entire bottle as she rounded the couch, pausing when he didn't take it, only glancing up at her.

"Oh.. Can you drink while on that drip?"

He quirks his head but takes the bottle anyway, bringing her to smile just slightly. They both know he shouldn't drink while on a drip….. But he would because the high they warned you of, is the wave she assumed he wants to ride. He'll give her something though, he'll lean towards the IV and with a twist of the valve he gives her a sense of accomplishment while in reality, it was so he wouldn't kill his liver. Still, she appreciated the gesture as she sits down on the couch aside from him in the chair.

That night when the rest of the home retired Hermione Granger sits up with her Professor in a scene she never thought they'd share. It was strange and comfortable at the same time. They had been casually passing the alcohol bottle back and forth, a motion started by Hermione and returned by Snape and done over and over again. It made her think of Ron and she almost declined the latest offer just off the fact she didn't want the night to end in a drinking mess… She almost laughed aloud at the thought of Snape and her doing anything besides this, but she doesn't and instead, she breaks the silence with her own conversation.

"Are you going to leave tonight?" She asks him.

His head tilts and when they exchange stares she explains herself.

"I figured you would leave….Well, I guess I don't know what you mean to do... Just figured you'd tire from those hospital scrubs."

But it was true. He had been waiting for her to retire because up until those men arrived at the door he had planned on leaving to his flat and returning before the house woke. Now though…. He shakes his head and holds the drawing in two fingers before putting it back into his breast pocket.

"Ah." He watched her nod her head before returning her eyes to the fire.

Five years must have been longer than they both had thought. The bubbling, boisterous young girl she remembered herself being had simmered into a woman of silence. She didn't push conversation, she didn't do much but sit with her eyes on her book. She drank, and drank and then at one point surpassed him and still she remained calm. He'd spend most of the time watching her with a twisting jaw, upset over how the night was turning out. He wanted to get home to the stash he keeps in the floorboard of his childhood bedroom. He had no plan but one, keep out of the attention of the bald man in the bowler hat. He didn't want to think of what is or what wasn't, he didn't want to think about what he couldn't remember or what the scar on his stomach is from. He doesn't want to know what that man wants from him and he doesn't want to think about a world outside this place. He didn't want this. He didn't want his spine so bent, he didn't want the scarring on his arm…. He didn't want any of this… but the greatest fear that rose from his soul was the threat of seeing Minerva McGonagall. If Molly knew and that woman was still alive, the rumor would get out and she'd be here... And if she came and he was forced to see her… she wouldn't see him in hospital garb and barefooted.

"Professor." His attention snaps back to her, her eyes holding on him. "Where were you planning to go?"

He looks her over before she nods her head slowly. "I can… umm I c,an go to your flat for you…"

He stares at her, his expression unreadable. He stares at her before slowly shaking his head no.

"Is there someone you want to?"

His leg has started twitching and his eyes cast into the flames before he'll take Grangers eyes and turn them to the rising quill.

Tonks?

Hermione nodded her head. "She's alive…"

He'll push her on with his expression and a nod of his head and she will continue as she held the paper.

"Well, I haven't seen her in… years… She doesn't talk to the Order anymore… She and Remus aren't together and Teddy…." Her voice faded for a moment as she thought of the dead infant. "He didn't make it…"

She looks up and sees him staring at the paper. "Oh, sorry." She placed the paper on the table and as predicted the quill raised.

"Where is she?"

She's in her bag, pulling out a black address book she flips through before landing on T.

1430 Westalley Way

She writes this down for him using the quill he has magicked and when she's done, she'll tear the corner off and hand it to him. He'd take it with a glare that looked less angry and more reserved. He looks at her as he raises from the arm chair, starting off away and leaving her alone where she'll drink a bit more before going to see Harry.