A/N: So this chapter is a combination of a lot of things. I hope you all enjoy it. Severus and Hermione definitely aren't done with their relationship problems but... Well, I'll let you read it. :) Also, I'm sorry for the long gap between updates. Between moving, the flu, and double ear infections, it's been difficult finding time to write. And then, when I did, I didn't have WiFi.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait! As always, thank you all for the reviews. They mean more to me than I could ever express in words.

I glanced at the clock on the wall of the sitting room in the Burrow. Almost ten. Shit. I didn't want to go back. Today had been so refreshing. After Diagon Alley, I had helped Ginny move stuff from Grimmauld to the Burrow so that the final set-up process could begin the following day. Mrs. Weasley had welcomed me with open arms.

"I'm so glad to see you!" She had exclaimed affectionately as she hugged me tightly. "And I know Ginny appreciates all the help, too."

"I appreciate her, Mum, not just what she does," Ginny had added, rolling her eyes. She had smiled at me, though. I couldn't help but smile back.

I looked up from a book I had borrowed from Ginny as Ron walked into the sitting room from outside. "So he hasn't killed you?" His voice rang with absolute seriousness. I looked awkwardly at the floor.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley scolded her son without missing a beat. "That is unnecessary and downright rude. I do not want to hear you say something like that to Hermione ever again."

He rolled his eyes when she had left. Ginny stood against the back of the couch, where she had been reading over my shoulder, but now was glaring at her brother.

"At least her's speaks English," Ginny retorted, quiet enough not to draw Mrs. Weasley's attention. Ron's cheeks darkened into a deep red.

I couldn't keep myself from voicing my curiosity. "She doesn't know English?"

Ginny giggled and shook her head. "She sent Ron a letter yesterday morning. It was in French. Ron had to ask Fleur to translate it for him."

I couldn't help but smile. Ron glared at me.

"To make things even better, it was super lovey-dovey. Like, all 'I Love You' and 'I Can't Wait to Spend the Rest of My Life with You.' I don't know whose face had the darker blush, his or Fleur's." Ginny's laugh was so refreshing. I joined in easily.

"Oh, shut up, Ginny," Ron said scathingly, leveling a glare on her, before storming out of the room.

His reaction brought me up short. I stopped laughing and looked down the hallway where he had left to go up to his room. I stood there, trying to figure out why his reaction had bothered me. I mean, he hadn't said it to me, and Ginny certainly didn't seem to be bothered. So why did I have, for the first time since I had left Hogwart's this morning, anxiety building in my stomach?

And then it slammed into me. Well son of a bitch.

"Nice to know you have more in common with Severus than originally thought," I called down the hall, a small smirk on my face.

Ginny looked at me with incredulity. "What did you just say?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "He's just as rude," I told Ginny in a whisper. "His intonation is perfect, too." She laughed a little bit.

"I'd love to see you explain that to him. He's got himself convinced that he's worlds above that man."

I looked back down at the book in my hands. I played with the earmark at the top of the page. I couldn't even confront Severus. How could I confront Ron about being like him? I changed the subject, just a little bit. "Severus is actually prone to kind deeds. Like, he made me dinner last night—he had found out somehow that my favorite food when I'm stressed is grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. And when I had a panic attack the first night, he helped me through it." I sighed. I noticed that Ginny was silent behind me. "Now if only I could figure out what kind of roller coaster he's decided to ride. I honestly feel like I'm getting whiplash from all of his back-and-forth nonsense."

Saying that lightened this invisible weight I had subconsciously been carrying on my shoulders. I felt truly refreshed. That really was the problem. I had no idea if he would be kind or scathing whenever I spoke to him. Now… How did I deal with something like that?

I glanced back up at the clock when she didn't say anything. Now it was almost eleven. I definitely had to get back. I told Ginny this.

"Alright. You'll be back here tomorrow to help with everything?" she asked as she walked with me to the door to the garden. "I enjoy having you here. You help me keep my sanity." I smiled when she looked at me.

"Of course I'll be here. What time do you want me?"

"As early as you're willing to be here," she admitted honestly. "Ron's Frenchie is coming tomorrow so…" She trailed off, leaving me to conclude for myself.

I grimaced a little bit. I thought back to when I had woken up this morning. It had been around five…maybe six. If I purposely slept in—or pretended to, at least—then maybe I wouldn't have to talk to him until I could get my feet back under me.

"How about seven? If you don't mind me coming for breakfast?"

Ginny's easy smiled flashed across her face. "That would be perfect! I'll make sure Harry doesn't come until eight. We can have some girl time in the morning." I smiled back. She was nervous about something. We had had well over three hours of uninterrupted girl time in Diagon Alley today. Oh well. Nerves were normal when it came to big stuff like this. Nerves were good.

I stepped into the darkness of the Burrow's garden. I waved to Ginny, who waved back and smiled, before tucking my cloak in around me and turning sharply to the left.

The cold air that smelled distinctly of Hogsmeade slammed into me just as the suffocating tightness lifted. It was chillier here, up North, than it was at the Borrow. I mean, it was only a few degrees difference, but I still wrapped my cloak tighter around me. As I walked up the grounds to the old castle, where I noticed only a few windows glowed with light, I wondered if I was shivering because of nerves rather than some arbitrary temperature change.

Yeah. Probably. Who the hell was I kidding? I had no idea what the hell I was doing with the relationship inside this castle, not like at the Burrow. Although…I thought back over the night as I started the climb up the various staircases.

No one had said anything. Ginny or Mrs. Weasley had probably threatened death or something equivalent. The only person who had made any kind of direct reference to my marriage was Ron. And Mrs. Weasley…She had looked at me differently. Something more…grown up.

I laughed out loud. Talk about over analytical. She probably looked at me the same way she always does. It's me who's being over sensitive. Self-fulfilling prophecy or something. I expected them to all look at me weird, differently, so I imagined up just enough to satisfy my subconscious.

"Dumbledore," I muttered to the gargoyle in frustration. Count on me to over analyze things that are complicated enough without my help. The gargoyle obediently leapt aside and the staircase began to spiral around it. I stepped onto the highest step and waited for it to come to a halt.

Deep breath. Open door.

One candle was burning, but it was obvious he had retired to the living quarters. I walked across the study and anxiously walked down the staircase into the study, flicking the flames behind me. But he wasn't in there either. Perhaps he had already gone to bed? Damn. Maybe I did have some luck then.

The candles, again, obediently went out as I left the room and walked into the bedroom. Sure enough, Severus was curled up, facing where I would normally be in the bed. It seemed like he had been asleep for a while. I walked as quietly as possible to my dresser. With him asleep, I didn't bother going to the bathroom to change. I draped my cloak over the dresser and then stripped quickly out of the sun dress. I pulled on my traditional warm, cotton pajama pants and a similarly colored long sleeved cotton shirt.

I pulled my hair down out of the bun I had haphazardly made when I was helping Ginny with moving items to the Burrow and then brushed it back up into a ponytail. With that done, I rubbed my scarred forearm in agitation before turning around. I found him in the exact same position as I had when I walked in. Definitely asleep. I pulled back the covers and snuck in between them, doing my best to not disturb him. I turned away from him, though I couldn't help but move close enough to him that I could barely feel his knuckles on my back.

I was asleep in seconds.

TIME

That's how the week leading up to Ginny and Harry's wedding went. In the morning, I would pretend to be asleep until he had decided that some other part of the castle needed to be depressed or something, I would get ready as quickly as possible and then head down to Hogsmeade to apparate to the Burrow. Once there, Ginny and I would have about an hour to talk, and then the entire day would be spent preparing for the wedding. I wouldn't return to Hogwart's until well after ten every night. I had gotten accustomed to changing in the bedroom.

One conversation with Ginny came back to mind as I walked the grounds the night before her wedding.

"Just my luck!" She cried to me once I had gotten inside the door. She kept her voice to the barest whisper. "Mother nature decided to visit!"

I patted her hand sympathetically. "It'll be alright," I assured her. She looked at me, clearly on the verge of despairing. I spoke faster. "He loves you. He'll understand." I smirked at her, just a little. "Besides, you might be able to fool your parents, but I know you too well. You've already done stuff."

Her blush bordered on adorable. I laughed. Loud. She smacked my hand. It only made me laugh harder. She glared at me for a moment before softening into her worried look again. "You don't think he'll mind?"

"It might bother him," I told her honestly. "But he'll have to get used to it anyway. He'll get over it. If he has a problem, then just remind him that at least he'll be getting something."

She instantly settled into seriousness. "You haven't…?"

I shook my head in disgust. "No. Definitely not. I mean. Eww. He can't even decide if he likes me. I'm definitely not putting out to that."

"But maybe…"

"Absolutely not. He'll have to learn to deal with me before I give him that."

And then Ron walked into the room, effectively ending the conversation.

I walked through the barely lit study that I had grown accustomed to and down the stairs before realizing that the light coming back up into the stairwell was brighter than it normally was when I came back this late. I stopped short at the entrance to the study, surprised by what I saw. Severus wasn't just awake this late.

He was pacing.

I didn't make a sound. We hadn't talked to each other since the morning I left angrily to Grimmauld Place. I knew that it was immature to avoid him like I had been, but I honestly didn't know how to deal with whatever emotional back-and-forth he seemed to be intent on living with. It wasn't every day that I didn't know how to do something, and since the War—and everything that happened during it—I found myself unable to confront conflict like I had once been able to.

His hands fisted at his sides as he turned around and started back towards the other chair. He wore the same outfit as the night he had made me dinner. I tried not to stare at the way the tight fabric clung to his muscles, tense and lean. I noticed as he turned to return to the other chair in a pace that was quickening with every pass that his hair was about three inches shorter than I had ever seen it. Exactly straight edge. Magically done. His hair now only went to about the middle of his ear; it made him seem much younger than I knew he was. It made his nose more prominent than before, but I couldn't find any real disgust in me concerning that. I felt desire begin to peak around the cage I had formed around it this last week.

Well son of a bitch. Now I really wanted to puke.

He muttered something, but I couldn't tell what. Should I let him know that I'm here? Will he be able to tell I've been watching him? What do I even say? What's his problem anyway?

Before thinking it through—because if I did, I knew I would leave—I knocked my knuckles on the door frame. His pacing stopped at once, and he turned around quickly to look at me. His eyes changed almost as soon as I could see them. I didn't know what they had been holding before I had made myself known to him, but now all they held was icy distance, even resentment.

"Where the hell have you been?" And there was the roller coaster again. Well, about time I enjoyed the ride.

I made sure my voice was normal. "The Burrow. Like I have been all week. Weddings don't put themselves together."

"You're later than normal."

That stopped me. I narrowed my eyes. "How do you know what I time I've been coming back?" I asked suspiciously.

"You wake me up every time you get into bed." Then he sneered at me. "Not to mention you breathe louder than anyone else I have ever met. It's like a fucking wind storm next to me all fucking night."

I ignored the last bit. Glad to know he still hated me.

I woke him up? But…He never did anything when I got in bed. He didn't even move. I bit my lip. How did anyone play that off? If I had woken up, I wouldn't have been able to hide it. And what did he have to gain by pretending to be asleep?

"Why did you pretend to stay asleep?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'd like to know!" I naturally yelled at him. "I'm entitled to know!"

He stared at me for a moment. I saw him unclench and then clench his fists again. "It's the only time that you smile," he whispered.

Wait…What? I put my hand against the back of my neck. Fucking whiplash. "What?" Because I needed a minute to figure out what the hell to do with that—and if he actually meant it.

"You're miserable here. Just like you said you would be. But when you sleep, you look so peaceful, and after a while you start smiling. Last night you even started hugging your pillow to you." He paused. Like the teacher he was, he was giving me time to absorb the information. I felt the blush creep out across my cheeks. Last night I had dreamt of him. And of…stuff. I noticed that he was sneering at me again. "But then you open your mouth and then I remember why I couldn't fucking stand you as a student."

"Stop!" I told him, more strength in my voice than I had used in a very long time. I was so fucking done with this whiplash shit. His eyes hardened. "Enough with the back-and-forth bullshit. Either hate me or want me. For the love of Merlin, don't try to do both as much as fucking possible." My voice was consistently getting louder. He had taken a step back. I found that I couldn't stop my confrontation with him. It disturbed me more that I didn't want to.

"I don't—"

I cut him off. "Just SHUT UP." And then I was yelling.

He obediently shut his mouth, but I could feel the iciness rolling off of him.

"Just pick a side, alright? I'm so fucking tired of never knowing if you're going to explode in my face or have some kind of peace offering gift for me. If you can't stand me, then act like it. ALL THE TIME. Don't do this 'I hate you' shit and then decide in the middle that you really like me and that you want me. I've gone through enough emotionally damaging events. I don't need my fucking marriage to add to it."

He didn't say anything. Neither did I. Finally, he broke the silence that stretched between us like ice.

"I don't hate you."

I laughed coldly. "Sure you don't."

"I don't," the precision of his words gave away just the amount of emotion he was hiding. He was hiding behind his defenses, but he wasn't confident that they would hold. He was being careful. I laughed again, just as coldly, mocking even. "I want you. But why should I show you that?" Now the bitterness was seeping through. "You don't want me. Who would ever want me?" It was his turn for a bitter laugh.

The desire in the put of my stomach reminded me that it was there. It started to bubble; I felt the cage dissolve around it. Fuck.

I clenched my fists.

"See? You can't even supply a half-ass lie to placate me." He started walking toward the bedroom.

"I know what Draco wrote you," I whispered. For some reason I couldn't say it loud, with confidence.

He stopped.

"And…" I gulped. Fine. Desire, you win, I told my stomach. I let the butterflies explode within me. Whatever the fallout, honesty was needed. "Get over your goddamned self-loathing." He turned around. His eyes burned with anger. "Besides, I really do…" I trailed off.

He raised his eyebrows. I swallowed convulsively. Strangely, the desire and nerves and everything else swirling in my stomach gave me courage. I pulled it all into me. Tight.

"Draco was right about me," I said instead of saying it outright.

He froze. His eyes locked on mine, and they bore into me with such intensity that I was sure he was looking into my soul. The desire ramped up a few notches while anxiety lowered the smallest amount.

He didn't say anything, but in just two strides he was standing right in front of me. He wrapped his left hand around my neck; his right pulled my hips into him. His lips slammed against mine. I let the desire festering in me explode; I let it overload my senses until I was pulling at his own hips, holding him tightly against me. I felt him turn us, and then I felt the coolness of the wall against my back. He held me against it. He let his left hand trail down until it was resting on my collar bone.

My lips faltered in the kiss when he lowered it to my breast.

His reaction was instant. He pulled away from me, pushing himself against the wall opposite me. His eyes were hard, distant. But I was able to recognize the hurt he was trying to hide.

"Yeah," his voice dripped with bitterness. "Sure you want me."

I walked up to him. He glared at me when I purposefully put both my hands on his hips. "Yeah. I do." I stopped for a minute, pushed the desire back so that I could think in a straight line that didn't head directly to the bed. "I wasn't lying when I said that I haven't done anything. There's a certain amount of uncertainty. Again, would you just get the hell over your hatred for yourself? Just because I hesitate doesn't mean I don't want it." I paused. I gulped. "It just means that I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do."

A corner of his mouth twitched in humor. "Then I suppose I am still your teacher," he said. And then he was kissing me again.