Still borrowing everything from J.K, not mine etc etc...

It's been a year since i first posted this, crikey. Apologies! Looks like January is my Snamione month.. Thanks to Kat, catsgotmytongue and Padme.G for the reviews. And thanks to Qoheleth for letting me know about the initial first post chapter error. I'm not entirely sure what happened there. I do know that i'm a new poster here and using copy+paste from my Notes app on my mac, so that might have had soemthing to do with it. Hopefully this one will update with no issue.

It happens to be 2 years since Alan Rickman left us today as well sadly, damn it. He's been on my mind all day. RIP AR.

II

Hermione glared up at him over the wall, her eyes glancing to the house next door, not entirely sure what to say. Of course she would find herself at a party next door to Professor Snape's home after paying an unexpected visit to his local. Of course. She almost smiled at the absurdity- the coincidence- of it. Thinking perhaps her expression was giving her away slightly as a smirk tried to escape her.

She'd hardly had a chance to gather her thoughts. She was always a fast and rational thinker. She never used to have patience and she'd taught herself to deal with it better it over the past few years. But she was thrown off completely by Snape from the moment she saw him in the pub. And she knew it was all because she had huge emotional ties to the man and she was still overcome with guilt. When she'd seen him and again watching him now, her chest ached. It was the same sensation she'd had in the past when someone had insulted her Mother, or Harry and Ron. That great need to protect and stand up for them and fight their corner - that was exactly it. Except it was not the time or place to go all Mother Hen on her old Professor, so she snapped up some shields, only slight ones, just to shut up this part of her brain for a while.

She rubbed at her chest and met the eyes of Snape and gestured towards the house she'd exited from, the silence being filled with the faint laughter and music coming from inside.

"The appeal of house parties is somewhat lost on me."

"Indeed," He replied, his voice sounding strained with a breath full of smoke. He looked away, Hermione thought, slightly awkwardly, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall between them. He vanished the stub and blowed the rest of the smoke away slowly as it twisted and evaporated into the night sky.

"How-"

Snape's head turned towards the house and a second later Hermione heard the door leading into the garden squeaking. She could just make out between the green house and the overgrown plants inside it the illuminated face of the guy who was giving her the eye inside all night popping a cigarette into his mouth. He was fishing in his pocket for his lighter eyeing the garden with some interest.

"Shit," Hermione exclaimed softly. He'd probably seen her leave, Hermione immediately thought. She placed one foot on the bench and heaved herself up onto the wall and flicked her legs around dropping herself into Snape's garden at Snape's feet, disillusioning them both wandlessly. She slowly rose to peer over the fence to see the boy walking down the length of the garden towards the glass house, checking out the adjoining neighbours gardens and homes.

The boy took another drag of his cigarette, looking around at the bottom of the garden. He shrugged and started making his way back towards the house where he stood for another couple of minutes finishing his cigarette. He eventually stubbed it out and flicked it into a plant pot and made his way back inside, scanning the garden once more before he did.

Hermione and Snape never moved an inch.

Hermione realised she'd been holding her breath and breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to look at Snape and cancelled the charm. He had his arms folded and was giving her a curious look. Hermione was mildly amused to note she was still reduced to her school girl self under his scrutiny and hoped she was hiding it well. She looked down at her toes, rubbing her own arms now her warming charm was no longer in use. Snape sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Come inside, Granger," he said tiredly.

He made his way towards his back door and Hermione followed, finding it peculiar to see him without his robes flowing out behind him. It was an identical lay out to the house next door. She stepped foot inside of his kitchen that was sharply illuminated by a single Edison lightbulb hanging somewhat lower than it should be. It was a small kitchen, although it still bigger than her own. In fact, it was a lot nicer than hers. Her presumptions of Snape were not doing him any favours and she scolded herself for being unfair. Everything in his kitchen looked brand new. It was clean and tidy. He had black and white floor tiles, like a chess board and his worktops were a black marble, the rest of it glistening white and it was toasty warm.

The clattering of cups distracted Hermione from her nosiness. Snape had stood in front of his sink with his hand in a cupboard above it pulling down a mug. He cleared his throat, flicking on the switch of his kettle and looked over his shoulder at her, raising his eyebrow, gesturing with a tilt of the mug an unspoken question.

"Oh!" Hermione slipped her hands into her coat pockets and tilted her head towards the side of the house next door. The walls weren't thick then, she thought. The party was still going strong and well, sod it. "Please. Thank you."

He nodded turning back towards his kettle, throwing a tea bag into another mug. He leaned on his hands and his head fell forward.

Hermione stepped back and balanced herself leaning on the work top opposite him and watched him carefully. Now she could get a good look at him, there was no sense of ire about him whatsoever. There always used to be. He used to hold himself together so tightly, it always felt like he was about to snap and it was such a harsh transition to seeing him now, leaning with his head bowed, his hair covering his face, his posture slumped and unwound. His thin jean shirt that looked too big for him was hanging limply off his figure. His loose black slacks and, Hermione's heart grew a size poking at her emotions making her breathe in and out quickly, his dirty well worn heelless slippers. As if sensing her giving him the once over he shifted slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye. It was a quick, tiny glance and Hermione looked away quickly finding some solace with her shoes once again.

The kettle hadn't boiled yet, but he'd yanked it off its hook and started to make their tea. Hermione could hardly bare the silence and her Gryffindor heart got the better of her.

"This is a really lovely kitchen. A lot nicer than next door's." she said brightly, looking around pretending to find the most mundane of appliances interesting to try and shift the atmosphere.

Snape didn't respond. He bent down and opened a small fridge that was nicely disguised as a cupboard to the right of his sink, pulling out a bottle of milk. Snape dropped his spoon onto the worktop with a clatter and moved past her into his living room ignoring her entirely. Hermione leaned forward and saw he had actually poured her tea but obviously wasn't prepared to make it for her. Fine, she thought shaking her head in amused disbelief. She stirred and squeezed her tea bag, leaving it in a round ceramic blue bowl where a collection of old tea bags had gathered and poured in some milk. She bent down and put the milk back inside his fridge for him. She paused slightly at the contents of his fridge, purely because she couldn't help but notice that there was hardly anything in it. She gathered herself quickly and shut the fridge door. She picked up her mug and made her way towards his living room, a bit unsure of herself. It felt unnatural to be already so well acquainted with someones kitchen. And not just any old someone. But Snape's kitchen.

He looked up at Hermione who was hesitating at the doorway clutching at her tea in both hands. He'd sat himself down on a two seater black leather sofa, his tea in his lap. Snape sat back and crossed his legs, cupping his steaming drink, a scowl forming on his face.

"For god's sake Granger, you're making the place look untidy. If you'd like to go and rejoin your... friends.." he raised a finger off his mug signalling to next door.

"Sorry, si…," She cleared her throat, internally cursing herself for not handing this at all well and made a few steps inside of his living room. "No, i'd much rather be here actually." He raised his eyebrow, looking at her as though she were mad.

She stopped by a chair, which must be a reading chair of sorts because the arms of the chair were lined with books of different sizes. "May i?"

Snape nodded. Hermione, not wanting to knock off any of the tomes sat awkwardly on the edge of it and rested her mug on her knee. Their eyes met briefly and Snape quickly snapped them away down to his mug of tea, thumbing the edge of it.

"How have you been then, Granger?" He asked, slightly sarcastically, keeping his eyes trained into his mug. Glad for a nod in the right direction of conversation she breathed in and half smiled.

"Busy." She smiled.

Snape nodded and flicked his gaze up at her, although it was so brief you could have argued that he didn't react at all.

"And, you?" she asked, her smile falling into something more neutral.

Snape shifted on the sofa, crossing over his other leg. He brought his mug up to his face and sipped, his hair, longer than she'd known it, falling almost into his mug.

Snape's lip curled, ignoring her line of questioning, "And what does the brightest witch of her age," he paused, "do?" His words sounded harsh and was probably said to annoy her, but there was no real weight in them.

She looked down at her hands, playing with the rings on her fingers finding them a nice distraction.

"I work in St Mungo's, si-r." She quickly glanced at him, not knowing at all how best to address him. His expression was unchanged, so she decided to carry on. "I have my own practice of the 7th floor. I am, for lack of a better word, a shrink. What Muggles call a psychotherapist. I sit and i listen to people's problems. And hopefully, help them resolve any of their issues."

"A hospital for souls." he said softly. So softly that she almost didn't hear him. She was about to respond when he replied, "That would explain why you're so… smartly occluded." He thumbed the rim of his cup and looked at her, tilting his head slightly in interest.

"Which University did you attend?" he said, still gazing at her.

"K-Kent," Hermione looked at him unsure, "how did you.. ?"

His cradled his cup over his chest and shifted again, swapping legs to cross.

"The Ministry and St Mungo's are, or were, ignorant of such a profession. There wouldn't have been anyone to train you in the wonders of..." his hand flew up and waved in the general direction of his head, ".. the mind." He lowered his hand again to rest his mug over his stomach.

She nodded, holding his gaze, "I'm the only one, sir, yes."

Snape shut his eyes and sighed, his jaw clenched. "Granger, i'm not your Professor anymore. I have no desire to be called.. that." He leaned over and placed his now empty mug on the table beside him, bringing both his hands back in his lap. Hermione nodded slowly, biting her lip.

"Okay," she pursed her lips looking at him through her fringe that had just fallen forward slightly, "And i am no longer your student, so you may call me Hermione."

Snape pinched his eyes together slightly and leaned back in his couch, crossing his legs at the feet.

They sat in silence for a while. Hermione could see him brushing his bottom lip with his finger, watching her. She used the small intermission to study one of the book titles at her feet and was surprised to see 1985 by George Orwell. She was just about to bend down and pick it up when a high pitched, shrilly ding noise echoed through the room. She looked up at Snape who had just fished a mobile phone out of his trouser pocket. He patted down his pockets and his shirt for something then he wandlessly acciod a pair of dark rimmed square glasses and looked over the top of them at Hermione while he placed them on his nose. Hermione's forehead had crinkled together in amusement and had pinched her lips together, desperately trying not to giggle at the sight of him.

"You would do well, Granger, to remember the company it is that you are currently keeping," he spoke slowly and gave her a accusatory look while pushing his glasses up to sit on his nose.

Hermione, while bending up to pick up the book on the floor whispered "Hermione." in response. Not daring to look to see if he'd heard her, she placed her tea on the floor and flicked through the books pages. It wasn't common for wizards or witches to be interested in the Muggle world, but she could safely say it was the first time she'd ever been inside a wizard's house and seen a Muggle publication there. She turned it over to read the back page when Snape grunted. She flicked her eyes up over at him to see him, reflected by the phone screens brightness, typing with one finger. Hermione placed the book on her lap cocking her head to watch him.

He took a quick look at her over over the top of his specs at her, pausing his typing as he did so, "I've just been barred."

"Barred?!"

"From the pub," he drawled.

Snape rolled his eyes and continued to type again.

Hermione paused mid way from bending down to fetch her tea and tutted, "You didn't even do anything wrong."

"Oh, it wouldn't be the first time."

"I'll go in there, tonight! Before we leave and tell him- Eric, to unbar - wait, what?"

Snape's mouth quirked up at the side as, Hermione could only assume, he'd pressed send and popped his phone back into his trouser pocket. He took off his glasses, pushing them on to the top of his head and grabbed his tea.

"As i said, i've been barred before."

Hermione looked at Snape in shock and slightly shook her head. It was like she was seeing a completely different person in front of her. She did the only thing she thought appropriate and drank the rest of her tea in one big gulp.

"What did you do to get yourself barred?"

"Oh, this and that."

"And what did you reply?"

Snape lifted his tea to his chest, "I did as i always do," he brought the tea higher up to his mouth and held it between both hands and gazed at her, "i told him to bugger off."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, she was quick to bite her lip but she found she couldn't help herself and she burst into laughter. She put her head in her hands and massaged her eye lids as her laughter faded. If she'd have have looked, she would have noticed Snape smiling with her, but it did not last for long before his face fell and watched her tucking her hair behind her ear.

"And yet they allow you back in?"

"Of course."

Like a flash of lightning, Hermione noticed Snape's persona darken almost instantly. The atmosphere in the room changed and she started to wonder what she'd done wrong. It wasn't as if it was a warm welcome anyway, certainly far better than she would have ever expected, but whatever had just happened made the mood drop through the floor. She didn't have any time to think about it before Snape was on his feet brushing past her, grabbing her empty mug on the way. Hermione looked around her to see if she could find what might have set him off, because there was a tiny part of her that hoped it wasn't her presence. There really wasn't too much to look at though. A little like the kitchen, everything in the living room looked like new too. Almost like she was in a show room. Two couches and a reading chair. There was a coffee table in the middle of the room that had 3 large candles on it and there was a fireplace - which was immaculate. A large book case lined the wall leading towards the kitchen but that was really it. Hermione's gaze fell back towards his fireplace again, the chunks of wood used to light it were new and unburned. Hermione frowned, the cogs working in her brain at last. He wasn't, visibly at least, living too much like a Wizard at all.

Hermione slowly made her way towards the kitchen and was met with Snape, who had one hand on his kitchen back door, holding it open for her. He wasn't meeting her eyes, looking somewhere above her head. He looked extremely put out and frankly pissed off. She had no idea what to expect from her first, well second, meeting with her old Professor and although she felt like she'd been walking on egg shells, knowing how easy he was to crack, it could have gone a lot worse than this she concluded, defeated. There was far too much to talk about, so much history between them that she found herself begrudged to leave. Not that either of them had got over the awkwardness of their meeting, especially now looking at Snape, who she assumed, had just remembered himself and was regretting inviting her in.

"Right… ," she hesitated, moving from one foot to another.

"You're being looked for," he snapped, turning his head towards the house next door.

"Oh." She slid her hands into her jacket pockets and raised her chin - she hadn't heard a thing. "I-There isn't… I'd like to see you again si-.."

Snape snapped his head and and rubbed at his eyebrows in annoyance, "No."

"Bu-," Hermione tried before Snape cut her off.

"No. That is not necessary. This is strictly a one off, girl." he spoke, slowing down to push the meaning of the last of his sentence.

At this angle, Snape standing directly under the light she could see his red rimmed eyes and the tightness in them. One of the first signs of over-Occluding was exactly that. And she knew too well what that did to someone. She flexed her hands in her pockets and felt one of her business cards in her pocket. She bit her lip in questioning, wondering wether this would be a good idea. It was clear he wasn't very active in the Wizarding world so why would he ever…

She flicked her chin back up at him and softened her features. It wasn't like she was losing anything, and she knew where he lived now in any case. She pulled out one of her business cards and placed it on his counter. He slid his eyes over it, and by the look on his face Hermione might as well have placed a jar of eel's eyes there instead.

Deciding she wasn't going to push him further she made towards the door and turned slowly to look at him. Hermione gasped in a silent breath and pushed her lips together in what she could see. His whole self was truly despondent. She had learnt to take in a persons general vibe within moments of meeting them in the clinic and she thought she was a good judge of knowing how bad the person was currently feeling. With Snape, it felt like a Dementor had overtaken his soul and was using his body, not sucking emptiness out but exuding it. And he didn't feel like this earlier when she came in.

Hermione blinked away catching herself, having not been this taken with wanting to help anybody who had shown these signs of depression and sadness, since Draco. She smiled up at him, and found herself reaching towards his arm that was still holding the door open for her and squeezing, just above his wrist. Noting without much feeling his, now faded, Dark Mark was slightly poking out of the sleeve of his baggy shirt. She had seen it many times on Draco that it didn't mean a thing to her anymore.

Before Snape could even react Hermione was in his garden, heaving herself over the adjoining wall. He heard the back door close to next door and a few raised voices in welcoming's and "There you are's" before he realised he had still yet to move, his eyes burning onto the bare part of his arm that she'd touched.

He quickly regained composure and slammed his door twice as hard. Without another thought on the damn girl he locked both locks, turned off his kitchen light and made towards the sofa, the warm gentle glow of his salt lamp guiding his way. Grabbing the trusty, most of the time disillusioned, box he kept under the sofa and briskly rolled up his left shirt sleeve...