Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months.

We,
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...

Chapter Two

It had not been difficult to find Spinner's End, especially the end at which Severus Snape hung his hat. Really, the neighborhood was not as depressed as it once had been. Cigarette butts littered the gutters, sure, and a few yards were in desperate need of weeding, but it was not so bad. Children slothed about, enjoying their last lazy days of the summer holidays, and a few older couples could be seen walking about their gardens.

As for the Snape abode, it was certainly a bit dingy, but (in the daylight, at least) it was definitely not the creepy haunted house Hermione had expected. A stately tree of unknown (but definitely Muggle) variety rested at the edge of the property, its rustling leaves and gently swaying branches betraying nothing about the activities that had recently gone on inside the dark little house.

Hermione opened the crookedly hung gate and walked up the path. Patches of grass sprang through the cracks in the concrete, and Hermione tripped once over a broken piece of the walkway jutting up from the ground. When she made it to the door, painted dark green, Hermione seized the door-knocker and, after cringing at the high-pitched squeak it emitted at being raised, tapped it against the door three times.

There were a few moments of silence, then a few quiet shuffling from within, followed by a deep sigh. It appeared that Snape was just inside the door. Hermione shifted from one foot to another, impatience setting in. Did I really come all this way just to be turned down? She grabbed the knocker again and beat it against the door. Once. Twice. Then the rusty old knocker was ripped from her hands as the door swung open.

The disagreeable man had definitely not been expecting Hermione Granger of all people. Really, he hadn't been expecting anyone. Dumbledore surely had more pressing affairs to attend to so close to the start of the school year, and well… Snape didn't have too many other friends. He stood there for a few moments, not saying anything, blocking the doorway with his thin frame. He was wearing a pair of black trousers and a neatly pressed white button-down shirt. In the Muggle world, there was no way he would be considered informal, but compared to his usual manner of dress, this was downright casual… Especially, Hermione noted, his rolled up sleeves and shoeless feet.

"Professor," she said, trying hard not to peer over his shoulder to get a better look at what he'd been doing. "I thought I'd ask you again if you'd like to have tea."

"Miss Granger, I have not changed my mind like some fickle child. You may leave." He made a quick move to swing the door shut into her face, but Hermione was quicker.

"Please, I'd rea--"

He whirled around, closing in on Hermione until their faces were inches apart. Then, harshly, "I'm surprised you haven't brought along Dumbledore to ensure your begging will be rewarded. I suppose I'm fortunate. Now, I'm rather busy, so if there are no further interruptions…" Snape tried the same move again. Hermione stopped the door with her foot. She looked over his shoulder. There were some boxes on the floor, a large collection of books and other artifacts in a mound on the dingy sofa, and a broom leaning against the wall of the foyer.

"You don't care for some help? It looks like you have a full day of cleaning up ahead of you," Hermione said, trying a smile. Her eyes took in the features of Snape's face. His dark brows were knit into a V, at the point of which began his rather prominent nose, which led to the half-grimace, half-sneer that was the defining feature of the man's face at that moment.

"I don't think so."

"You must let me do something! It won't do to waste your last free Saturday of the summer cleaning!"

"I don't think so, Miss Granger. I'm almost through here, and plan to return to Hogwarts this afternoon. As I said last night," he said, looking unenthused, "I will see you next week."

Never one to give up easily, Hermione pressed on. "How about I make us a cup of tea. You do have tea in the house, I assume?" She inched her way forward, noting the way Snape's shoulders tensed up.

Severus was on the verge of bellowing a highly amplified "No!" in Hermione Granger's direction when he looked back into his home. There was still a lot to be done. There would certainly not be any returning to Hogwarts with that much dust coating his mantle, that many cobwebs decorating his corners… Perhaps I can use Miss Granger's…help, he thought, cringing inwardly at the last word, at that moment deciding against it. But I suppose a cup of tea would be tolerable.

"Very well, Miss Granger. One cup of tea." Disgusting, he thought, noticing Hermione's wide grin. It was as if she knew she'd won, and it did nothing for Snape's mood.

He very politely walked back into the home without giving Hermione a second glance. She huffed, but followed quickly, careful not to kick through the pile of dirt in the entryway. They soon arrived in a very humble kitchen. It appeared that Snape had just finished cleaning it, for the counters gleamed, and there was still a shiny spot on the floor where, presumably, the mop water still hadn't dried completely. A rickety table sat under a window over the small yard in the back, on which Hermione placed her purse. She watched Snape rummage about the cabinets, his hands fumbling over this and that in his great hurry to have this over with.

When he had everything in order, Snape muttered, "Excuse me," and exited the room, leaving Hermione rather perplexed. She took the time to let her eyes travel around the room once more. There were no adornments on the walls, no shelves of colorful knick-knacks or paintings or family photos. I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else, but goodness! Not even any curtains? She supposed there must have been some drapes during his Death Eater days, surely something more lavish to impress the pure-bloods who were used to more expensive things… No, Severus doesn't put up fronts to impress others. Not even Dumbledore…I wonder how Albus puts up with Snape when he's in his bad moods, even seems to like him! There must be something more to these blank walls…

Finally, Snape returned. He gave no apologies; actually, he said nothing at all, but at a glance Hermione noticed that he'd put some shoes on. She had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from chuckling. "Are you planning on selling this house, sir?"

"Who would buy this ghastly heap of rotting wood?" He was getting two cups out of a cabinet over the sink.

"It just needs a little fixing up. Where do you keep your sugar?" Snape jerked his head to the left by way of answering, and Hermione retrieved it.

"I have no intention of letting this place fall into the hands of a Muggle, Miss Granger."

"The war is over, Professor. You don't have to pretend to be a Muggle hater anymore. There are plenty of Muggles who are miles more intelligent than some wizards."

"I haven't met any." He brought the teapot over to the table. She brought the rest. They sat.

Hermione put three spoonfuls of sugar into her steaming cup. "Sugar?" Snape declined. She continued, "You haven't gotten to know any, though, have you?"

"I have gotten to know enough, Miss Granger."

Hermione gave an unladylike snort. "That's like saying you and Sirius Black are identical twins."

Snape rose, his jaw clenched. A dash of color spread onto his face. Hermione knew she'd made a mistake. "I will not have you comparing me to that mongrel in my home! If you only came here to insult me, you can leave immediately!"

"Don't be such a dunderhead! You must know I didn't mean it to be offensive!" By now, the woman had risen as well, her cup of tea miserably forgotten on the rickety table.

By now, Snape's entire face had turned fiercely red. He said in the deadly whisper reminiscent of Hermione's school days, "How, Miss Granger, do you expect to win the cooperation of anyone you insult, no matter how poorly? Do not show up at my doorstep uninvited and presume your uninformed speeches about Muggles and wizards are going to have any affect whatsoever on me." The man all but stormed out of the room, leaving a furious Hermione alone in the kitchen, chest heaving with anger.

Naturally, her instinct was to follow. "Uninformed! Uninformed? I'll have you know, I have been studying under some of the best wizards and witches in Britain!"

Hermione could now see the true nature of the room she stood in. Where before, it was cluttered and dusty, now it looked dark. Hermione realized the things that must have gone on here; torture and killings in the still of night, malicious scheming… It only made sense for the Dark Lord's most trusted follower to have a major role in such things. The sofa, still piled high with various items, was run-down, propped up on one side with a thick book. There was a strange dark stain on the floor and wall in the corner beside a table, which held a lamp and an ominous looking thing. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a pair of shackles, joined together by a thick steel chain. And, horror of horrors, from under a pile of unassuming robes in an old wooden chair, peeked a Death Eater mask.

Hermione's heart seemed to stop for a moment, her breathing hitched. I thought for sure the Ministry would have taken it away for evidence, or something. If he's getting rid of it, where on earth will it go?

Snape, who had been banging around very loudly in a closet, ignoring the woman's words, stopped rummaging. Perturbed by her newfound silence, he whirled and followed Hermione's eyes to the mask. Then their eyes locked.

"Is that…?" uttered Hermione, quite unwilling to simply let it go. Of course, she knew Snape was completely loyal to the Order, but his task as a Death Eater both disturbed and fascinated her. Even as a child, she had always been captivated by the strange and morbid.

"Yes, Miss Granger, it is," was Snape's reply. The stiffness of his tone matched his posture perfectly; he stood stock-still, hands clenched so tightly that Hermione noticed his knuckles had turned white.

"Who--wh--what're you going to do with it?"

Just like that, Snape's body lost its rigidity. He turned smoothly and seemed to billow across the room (though he wasn't wearing robes), to the pile containing the mask. "Don't be a dunderhead," he sardonically mimicked. "I'm going to toss it." He picked everything up, careful to tuck the mask into the folds of the old robes.

Hermione took a moment to get control of her speech. "I know someone who would be glad to take it off your hands. Morag MacDougal, she's on the Ministry Committee for Magical Monuments, is working on compiling relics from the war. You know, the toilet bowl Mundungus Fletcher stole from a Muggle junkyard, thinking it was a cauldron, Ron's broken wand… Things like that. I'm sure she'd love to have the mask of a hero."

"I certainly do not want to take part in such a self-indulgent venture, Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter are heroes enough for MacDougal's ridiculous museum."

"It isn't ridiculous! Don't you want to be recognized for everything you've done?"

"No, Miss Granger, I would most certainly not." With that, Snape climbed the stairs without a look back, carrying his bundle from the chair. Hermione, very disappointed, let herself out. She didn't think it would be wise to follow Snape upstairs.

The afternoon light was very bright after being in the dim house for very long. Hermione walked to an alley from which she could disapparate, mulling over Snape's last words to her. He doesn't want to be recognized? Harry and Ron have been humble, but they didn't turn down Daily Prophet interviews… And Snape of all people should want to explain himself… Shouldn't he?

But wait. He was a Death Eater. You idiot girl! What were you thinking? Of course he doesn't want to be recognized for what he's done! What has he done? The mask, the shackles, the stain…

Hermione realized she had to approach a friendship with Severus Snape in a different way.