Five minutes later Snape wiped a slim hand across the steamy mirror. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been foolish enough to stand before ANY reflective surface to consider himself. Even after the change he had been hesitant to look at himself. 'But things have changed Severus'. Dumbledore's voice rang out again, echoing in the deepest recess of his mind. Yes, something had changed. But he was sure it had not been him. He was still the same old, cranky, traitorous bastard he'd been at this age. He was not even sure what age this was. 'Twenty-four, twenty-five even.' The exact age did not matter. What did was the lack of the dark mark on his arm. 'And my chest'. The scars that once entirely covered his chest and back had considerably lessoned. Now there were only the remains of his childhood.

He smirked at his mirror image. As an adult he'd kept his hair short, when had it grown this long? The dark strands fell around his shoulders. 'What's this? Not greasy'. He threw an accusatory glance at the door. This had Miss Granger's name all over it. He couldn't help but wonder what she thought of him. If he heard the words 'greasy git' come out of her mouth he would just about strangle her. Snape grinned at the thought as he pulled on the flowing green tunic. Greasy or not, Miss Granger seemed to hold her tongue in his presence. 'It's been a night. Give the insolent child some time. It won't be long before that Gryffindor emotion shows through'. This was true, but curiousity got the best of him. He returned to the shower and glanced at the label. 'As I thought'. Granger had produced it, and he was willing to bet she produced the soap as well.

Snape smiled at the thought of the clever little which creating magic remedies for the muggles. He decided that they would talk about this sudden change, and the six years she'd been gone later. Reaching out, Snape seized the handle and threw the door open. Shock registered as Hermione tumbled into him. Good lord he loved to see her blush.

"Pr…professor! I'm sorry I…" she suddenly brightened, forgetting herself.

'What on earth does this girl think she is doing, touching our hair like that!' Snape quieted his mind, the shock turning into an expressionless mask, as he focused on the shaking hand that hesitantly came forward. Hermione did not dare look into his eyes as she touched the tip of a silky strand, before completely immersing her hand in the beautiful dark mess that was Severus Snape. She smiled at the thought of him using her shampoo and conditioner. It seemed to have worked wonders for the grimy look Snape had going these last few decades. 'Not he looked too bad as a youth anyway'. But this transformation did something to Hermione.

"Miss Granger? Look at me please."

And look she did. With a hint of satisfaction, Snape could see that the daring look in her eyes had returned. A true Gryffindor. Leaning in close, making sure to enter and overcrowd her personal space, he tilted his head toward her ear.

"Why are you touching my hair?" he whispered quietly, daring her to speak.


Hermione searched his eyes, depthless and dark, for insight. But try as she might, Snape had locked her out, and she knew that this situation called for instinct. 'A woman's instinct' she corrected herself. She was almost sure that Severus Snape was playing with her, daring her to make the next move. 'Whatever that might be'. Instead of answering the question directly, Hermione pressed her hand against his scalp, kneading the back of his head until his eyes closed and she could see the contentment written on his face.

"Just let me."

Snape smirked, but found himself unable to find an argument. 'What is this about? Snape! Wake up man. This is going too fast'. The cloudiness of his mind cleared for a moment, but when he tried to dislodge her hand, its partner joined in, dragging rounded nails across his scalp. He had the uncanny urge to purr under her tender minstrations. 'Too fast? She's just playing with my hair!' his younger self whined. Snape felt her press closer, and slid one eye open lazily. 'Her eyes are closed.' He grinned, his collegue apparently as entranced in the motion as he was. Where had she learned to do this? Her technique was almost perfect. 'Merlin help me. This feels sooo good'. And apparently his appendages felt the same. 'Would you stop that!' he yelled at himself 'you aren't a young man anymore, I don't care WHAT this body is telling you. Some self control please!'

"Miss Granger!" a shocked voice squeaked. "Dobby is sorry to interrupt Miss, but Dobby has brought the breakfast like you asked. Dobby is very sorry Miss, very sorry."

The shaken house elf bowed several times on his way out, and once Dobby was gone Hermione pulled away from him, biting back smile at his growl of frustration. Oh yes, she had found a weak point on Severus Snape. 'One I would never have guessed'. Smiling to herself she snuck from the bathroom without a second glance. Inside the bathroom Snape was restraining himself from beating his head against the granite counter. 'Fool, fool, fool! Why, WHY do you let the Gryffindor lead you on like that? And why does this damned body have to respond to her as if I were some teenage imbecile!' He smirked at the disheveled appearance he now sported. Somehow the button on his tunic had become unbuttoned. His hair was a mess, through and through. Snape picked up a comb as he stepped into the engaging smell of beans, bacon, and toast.

The sight of Hermione on the bed, dressed in nothing but his robe, with a cup of coffee in one hand and the daily prophet in the other made his breath catch. He waited for a word from her, but she seemed not to have noticed his appearance. Was this what Dumbledore had wanted for him? Snape found himself wishing he could count on this sight everyday, for many years to come. It annoyed him, this sudden rush of contentment, when he knew it could never last. The spell that had been woven around them in the past night, would not last. 'But you wish it could don't you, you dolt! What's gotten into you? This isn't the Snape we've fashioned'. Inside his mind he saw his younger self, hackles raised, but instead of allowing that part of him to speak he froze. The two of them were not the only ones there. In the corner he felt someone else, smaller than the first. 'My child self!'

"Oh Gods…" he murmured.


From her spot on the bed Hermione heard his faint footfalls enter the doorway to their room. Their room. The words sounded foreign to her ears, but for some reason they rang true. 'Dumbledore, what have you started?' Hermione had long gotten past the idea of true love, or soul-mates. She didn't think she was cynical as several sources claimed, no, she liked to think that she was a realist. Love was not a one time thing. It was a fictional concept based on mutual respect, admiration, and trust. A person could fall in love several times throughout the course of a lifetime. It had been her misfortune to fall in love with men to broken or death-marked to see it. 'And so it goes'she thought grimly. But Severus Snape. Hermione had always seen Dumbledore as the father of the school, but perhaps he'd taken to meddling in Snape's life a little more than was necessary. This would explain the ridiculous conditions they would be forced to live under. In no romance novels were the two happily-ever-after do-gooders shoved together by some ailing headmaster. Yet the headmaster had seemed so sure of this. He trusted Snape, he respected and admired him. Yes, Dumbledore had loved Snape in his own way. And like a true parent, he worried for his child's happiness in the aftermath of his death. 'But could I love him? Severus Snape, the vile, Slytherin-favoring, greasy git that has haunted my dreams for the past thirteen years?' Hermione sipped her coffee as she considered. Dumbledore had said that in this form Snape might be willing to let go of a few 'extremities' to become a "desirable mate". Her desirable mate, he'd meant. It was obvious to her now, the meaning of that cryptic quote. Dumbledore had meant for them to become lovers, to become mates. 'Could I ever love that man? He's so cold, unjust, snide, hurtful, egotistical, greasy…' She smiled into her cup as she felt his eyes running over her, committing her face to memory. 'Do you trust him?' Hermione caught sight of the red scar across her hand. 'With my life'. 'Do you admire and respect him?' Hermione looked smugly down the center of her mug. Respect a Slytherin? 'We shall see how he chooses to run the school' She swallowed the hot liquid without making a face. 'The point being…in time isn't there a possibility for Dumbledore's last wish to become truth?' Hermione peeked up at him. He wasn't looking at her now, he was focusing on some conflict within himself. 'I won't do it for Dumbledore. If something happens, it'll happen because I want it to.'

"Oh Gods…"

Hermione set down her mug and rushed to his side. Snape had sunk to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. At first he seemed lost to the fact that she had knelt beside him, lost to everything but that internal conflict. Hermione glanced around, not knowing what to do, what was ailing him. After a moment she pulled his hands away from his face, forcing him to look into the comfort of her eyes.

"Severus? Severus do you hear me? What's wrong?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, but Hermione did not stir from her spot. She would deal with his need for complete independence later.

"The cure…but it didn't work…why…I need to find the cure….to the cure."