Yes, yes old Sevvy is being a grumpy man and not seeing Hermione's true intentions. However in this moment you will see the regrets, from both parties.
Regret.
Guilt.
And self pity, were just a few things that Severus instantly felt as he threw down the powder, for the flames engulfed him and spat him out at spinners end.
He felt alone.
He felt cold.
He felt bitter.
He shouldn't of done it, and Severus knew it. The hurtful words just came came out.
Like they did with Lily. You would of thought such a clever man like Snape would of learnt from his mistake.
But did he?
Obviously not.
What would he Do?
Go to her? Tell her that he needed her? And seek her friendship?
Merlin knew that THAT was his best option...
But no.
What Severus actually did was drown his sorrows with a bottle of Ogden's finest, and hope that the firewhiskey didn't just burn his insides, but also burn away the pain.
The regret.
Hermione felt like she was stuck in ice. The world moved around her, and passed her by.
She stood there, watching.
Awestruck.
Thoughts flooded her mind.
Should she had saved him?
Was it really worth it arguing for his case for him to just spit her kindness in her face?
Yes.
He couldn't push her away that easily. Her mind had been made up when she watched his memories. She saw everything he sacrificed, his selflessness and kindness, to always be seen as the bad guy to most.
So misunderstood.
And she respected that.
She had respected him before, although most the time she did not feel like she deserved the bitter words that Severus had spat her in the past, besides that Hermione had always noticed, however much he disliked teaching, he adored potions. She loved his passion that he showed on a regular basis, of the art of brewing.
But after the war, her respect for him had shot up, and she wanted to show him the kindness that no one had given him, that he deserved.
Although Severus Snape was a bitter and difficult man... He still deserved so much more.
Evening.
Hermione sat in her new-ish flat alone.
Still unsure what to do.
Should she go to him?
Should she forget all notions of kindness?
Or should she let him come to her?
She knew it was the third option.
So she did.
But she didn't know how long to stay up... Or why she even thought he would come to her tonight?
Time melted away.
Hermione waited, sat on her sofa and waited.
It reached midnight when Hermione finally got up from her sofa, however she was slightly startled and taken back when she heard the beak of a coal coloured owl pecking at her window.
When she opened her window, a neatly folded peice of parchment fell into her hands.
With her nimble fingers she opened the parchment to find his spikey writing, consisting of two words.
Forgive Me.