Thanks once again to my lovely reviewers! Please keep reviewing, it's so motivating to know that people are enjoying what I'm writing as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Obviously © J.K. Rowling, as much as I wish Harry Potter was mine, he isn't :( but thank you , for giving me the opportunity to play around with it!

Chapter Four

Severus Snape dropped heavily into his faithful green armchair, pressing his fingers to his throbbing temples. He could hear students milling around outside, saying their goodbyes to Hogwarts for another year. The Express would be leaving soon, and he could finally get some peace. He loosened his cravat wearily, and grabbed the hovering glass of Firewhiskey that he had conjured earlier as an incentive to make it through the final lunch in the Great Hall.

His exhaustion seemed to extend even to his fingertips; he had slept only for a handful of hours in the last week. He was more than used to this, the obligations imposed upon him by his students, Dumbledore and the Dark Lord left him little time to sleep. However, since the incident with Granger, he had been left dog-tired, with no opportunity to allow his body to recover. He couldn't help thinking that if it weren't for the copious amounts of Pepper-Up Potion that he had brewed for a rainy day, he would not have made it through the week. The downside of this, however, was that he had been left with a near-constant headache as a reminder of the exhaustion that lay only arm's length away. Damn Granger, and damn his own foolish sense of duty.

However, he had made it, and now he could sleep. He had instructed Dumbledore to leave him be for a few days, and short of the Dark Lord's unlikely summons now that the students had returned home and consequently temporarily limited his usefulness, he intended to spend a few heavenly days catching up on his rest with a few good books and his painfully neglected bed. He would then spend the rest of the week marking the no doubt horrific Potions OWLs from the current fifth years (he was particularly dreading Longbottom's), before retreating to the safe haven of Spinner's End, and spending the summer in relative solitude. He inhaled deeply through his nose, and let an exceptionally rare smile cross his lips. When he had first inherited his childhood home he had resented it, seeing it as a constant reminder of his miserable childhood and despicably Muggle beast of a father. However, after a particularly violent alcohol-fuelled rage shortly after Lily's death, the interior of the house was all but destroyed. Once the immediate haze of grief had passed, and Dumbledore had entrusted the Potions Professorship to him on the conditions that he swear the Unbreakable Vow to obey him and set his chaotic life in order, Snape had resolved to redecorate the house, and to use it as his safe haven, away from Dumbledore, Hogwarts and the constant threat of the Dark Lord's return.

Now, he saw it as precisely that. It was the only place on the entire planet that Severus Snape felt comfortable; the only place that he could seek complete solitude. Dumbledore knew better than to disturb him there; any message could be sent by Patronus, and he would use that medium to summon him rather than intrude upon Snape's home. Snape was grateful to him for that; it at least gave the impression that he had some modicum of privacy, despite him being bound to jump at every click of the wizard's fingers. The Dark Lord and his fellow Death Eaters would, save for dire emergency, never dream of entering the filthy neighbourhood in which Spinner's End was located, in deepest darkest Manchester. All these factors combined meant that Snape loved his home greatly, tired and tattered though it may be.

In addition, despite it being home to some terrible memories, it also harboured some of the best memories of his life. On the days that he felt particularly low, he could take a ten-minute walk from the house, and visit the meadow in which he and Lily would spend hours when they were young. He would take off his cloak and relax in the long grass, the flowers tickling his back through his thin white shirt. He could smell lavender in the air, the perfume that she always wore. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see the flashes of fiery red hair behind the trees, could hear Lily's laugh as she teased and hid from him. He squeezed his eyes tighter to keep back tears that threatened to fall. She had always been just out of his grasp. Close enough to love with every fibre of his being, but far enough away to prevent her from ever being his. Fourteen and a half years later and he still missed her, a painful ache in his chest every time he thought of her. If only he could have seen her one last time before that night, the night that his dangerously inflated pride and greedy determination to succeed had driven him to the Dark Lord with the prophecy, impossibly eager to impress and uncaring of the consequences. If only he had had the chance to say goodbye, he would have told her how much he cherished her, how he would gladly give up everything he had built up under the Dark Lord to be with her. She would never have left Potter, he knew that, but perhaps she would have died knowing his true feelings, maybe even loving him a little bit, like she used to in those golden days in the meadow.

He was interrupted from his bittersweet reverie by a loud knock, amplified by the stone walls and echoing through his private laboratory to his living quarters. He quickly cleared his throat, any trace of his previous emotion gone in a flash as he schooled his face into its usual bored mask, and strode purposefully to the door, narrowed eyes giving the only clue as to his inner fury that yet again his time was demanded by another. Seemingly, his duty was never-ending.

Hermione waited nervously by the large oak door leading from the Potions classroom to Professor Snape's private laboratory. She had never been beyond this point, and couldn't help imagining the horrific scene that she felt sure lay behind the door; no doubt there were jars filled with blood littering the shelves, disembodied heads in large glass containers just waiting to be dropped into some unsavoury potion. Perhaps even the body parts of the last student who had voluntarily sought out Professor Snape outside of teaching hours…

Don't be ridiculous, Granger, Hermione told herself sternly. Professor Snape is first and foremost a Professor, not some kind of evil ghoul. Just be polite and respectful, and he will respond to that. No-one is completely irrational. Despite the silent monologue, as she heard loud footsteps striding closer from behind the door, she had to fight the overriding instinct to run as far and as fast as she could. Succeeding, her feet remained rooted to the spot, her heart pounding as the door swung backwards to reveal an incensed Professor Snape.

"Miss Granger," the dark man towering over her murmured silkily, his quiet tone belying the fury that was quite obviously simmering below the surface. "To what do I owe this…unexpected pleasure?" His sentence ended with a sneering inflection, his eyes looking upon her with a palpable sense of disdain.

"I-" Hermione cleared her throat, before starting again, this time more confidently. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, Professor, but I was hoping that I could speak with you."

"It has perhaps escaped your notice, Miss Granger, but the term has now officially finished. I am no longer obliged to tolerate your company, and nor do I wish to. Good day, Miss Granger." He went to shut the door.

"Please, Sir! It will only take a moment." Snape paused. Seizing the opportunity while it lasted, Hermione quickly continued. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me last week, for saving my life. I-I am in your debt." She finished this solemnly, and extended her hand. Snape looked disbelievingly at her, making no move to shake her hand, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I did not act for you, nor for your thanks, Miss Granger. As much as it pains me to admit it, it appears that the fate of the wizarding world lies with your friend, The Boy Who Lived." He spat. "It is obvious even to me, who takes no interest in the childish follies of your so-called friendship, that his success hinges in no small part upon the continued contribution of you and Mr Weasley." He sniffed disparagingly, as if even uttering Ron's name had left an unsavoury smell in the air. "I had no choice but to save you. As such, your thanks are unnecessary and unjustified. Miss Granger." He nodded his goodbye and once more made to retreat. Hermione immediately dropped her hand and urgently took a step closer.

"Wait! What exactly happened? Why did the counter-curse fail? What was the spell that you cast to save me?" All the questions bubbling in Hermione's mind spewed haphazardly from her lips in her desperation to discover some answers before Snape shut the door in her face. To her surprise, Snape laughed, an unpleasant, mocking sound.

"I should have known that you came here for information. You really cannot bear not knowing, can you? Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, Miss Granger, but I do not find myself minded to provide you with relief. Some mysteries in life are never solved, Miss Granger, and the sooner that you learn that the better. Fortunately, I pride myself on being a dedicated and thorough teacher, and so am more than happy to rise to the task of delivering that particular lesson." The edges of Snape's lips curled into a contemptuous smirk, as he watched the conflicting emotions cross Hermione's face: anger, childish frustration, desperation and resentment tracking their successive journeys across her face. She fought the urge to stamp her foot, and when Snape's smirk grew even more pronounced she knew that he was reading her reactions as if she were a child's book, complete with impossibly large print.

"I have a right to know!" she exclaimed shrilly, the sulky tone that she was desperately trying to squash leaking through into her voice.

"You have no right to know anything, Miss Granger. You only have the desire to know. You were unwell; I cured you. As far as I am concerned, that is all you need to know."

"But-"

Snape continued as if she had never spoken. "My impression of you, Miss Granger, was that you were the most sensible, and least dunce-like of your friends. It appears that I was wrong. You are just as self-obsessed and inconsiderate as Potter and Weasley, demanding to know information that is none of your business. Did it not occur to you that Dark Magic begets only Dark magic? You were very fortunate that I am a Dark Wizard, Miss Granger – not even your esteemed Head of House could have known how to counter the extremely dark curse that Mr Dolohov chose to bestow upon you. However, if that piece of information were to leak to the Ministry, or to the Dark Lord, we both know that I may not be so fortunate as you as to walk away with my life, or indeed my liberty, intact."

"I didn't think-"

"Obviously." Snape rolled the word over his tongue, drawing it out almost to the point of ridiculousness. "Goodbye, Miss Granger." With that, the door firmly clicked shut, the grate of the latch on the other side the final nail in the coffin that constituted the short-lived conversation.

Hermione stood stock still, staring at the door with a bemused expression on her face. She was torn between the impulse to storm off, slamming the door on the way out of the Potions classroom for good measure, and knocking again to apologise, although for what she still wasn't quite sure. Dropping her head, she looked down at the small envelope in her hand. She stared down at it for another couple of moments, her mind ticking, before kneeling to the floor, and silently slipping the envelope under the door. Taking one last look over her shoulder, she stepped quietly across the classroom, and disappeared into the dark of the corridor.

Severus Snape had almost reached the comfort of his faithful armchair, when he heard the barely audible whisper of paper on stone, followed by the gentle click of the outer classroom door. Intrigued despite himself, he retraced his steps, and leant over to retrieve the small, yellowed envelope on the floor. Opening it impatiently, he pulled out a plain rectangular Muggle card, with 'Thank You' inscribed on the front. Snorting in disbelief, he flipped it open. In a familiar, neat and orderly script, there was a short inscription:

Dear Professor Snape,

I know that you will find this an unorthodox method of communication, but I wanted to thank you in the most sincere way that I know, and as a Muggleborn, this is it.

I also intend to thank you in person, however I have the feeling that it might not go down too well. I will try nonetheless, but in the event of me failing to put across just how grateful I am, this will have to do.

Thank you, Professor.

I suspect you're not one for chocolates or a nice bottle of wine, and I feel sure that I don't have anything that I can offer you in return. So all I will say is this: if I can ever be of any assistance to you, in any way whatsoever, then you need only ask.

I remain in your debt,

Hermione Granger

Snape read the card several times in succession, unsure whether he was more surprised at receiving a thank you card from a student, the fact that said student was a Gryffindor, and no less than the best friend of Harry Potter, or that she had managed to limit the message to one side of the card. His immediate thought was to throw it into the fire, dismissing both the card itself and the sentiment of the bearer. In fact, he moved towards the fireplace intending to do just that, however something stopped him in his tracks. Perhaps it was the fact that she had gone to the trouble to write to thank him, despite his constant derisive attitude toward her at every juncture. Perhaps it was the sheer novelty of such a sentiment; after all, Severus Snape did not receive a thank you card every day, nor even every decade. In fact, if he were honest, this was the first time that a student outside Slytherin had sincerely thanked him for anything in his whole teaching career. Or perhaps, he half-admitted, it was because it was such a Lily thing to do. He still had a drawer full of cards from her, some birthday cards, some Christmas, and others just cards to thank him for helping her with her homework, teaching her information taken for granted by those brought up in a wizarding family, and others simply for being her friend. For one dizzying moment, he was tempted to place this new card in that drawer with Lily's. Then common sense caught up with him and he shook his head, disbelieving that the temptation had ever crossed his mind. Angry with himself, he made to cross the room, back to the safety of his battered armchair, glass of Firewhiskey and reminisces of happier times. However, before he did, he placed the card on the mantelpiece above the fire. After all, it didn't hurt to keep it.