A/N: Thank you to my beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are mine.

Chapter 10: Lip Lock

I woke up the next morning with a moan, flashes of the prior evening flitting through my mind: screaming at Snape, listening to him justify sleeping with Alecto, and, most of all, kissing him. There was a moment, just before he'd pulled away, when his lips opened to mine, that felt so unbelievably good. And then it had all gone so, so wrong.

I scrunched my eyes shut, feeling beyond stupid for how I'd acted.

Why did I kiss him?

He'd never shown any inkling that his feelings for me were anything beyond platonic. Most of the time he was barely friendly. Tolerant, teacherly, sarcastic—those were words that described how he acted towards me.

Though, he did explain his reasons for sleeping with Alecto. He should have just yelled at me and told me to keep my mouth shut—that's what I would have expected him to do. But for some reason he'd felt the need to justify his actions. Why? Did he really care what I thought of him?

But how could that be when he obviously thought so little of me? Admittedly my kiss was completely out of line, but certainly I'd shown myself to be of better stuff than the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Alecto Carrow, hadn't I? I'd never thrown myself at anyone other than Ron, and that was after liking him for four years and being certain that he returned my affections.

So why had I done it? Why did I kiss Snape?

It was impulsive. It was reckless. It was thoughtless. It was so not me.

Where the hell had the controlled, logical, thoughtful, patient Hermione gone? The one that listened and tried to understand what others were thinking and feeling before she acted?

Had the last year of the war changed me that much?

Or was it one night, when I lay screaming and writhing on the floor in pain as a wild-haired Death Eater slowly drained my life away with each wave of her wand, each slice of her dagger?

I rolled over onto my side and pulled the covers more snugly around me, my eyes staring but not focused on anything in particular.

I'd thought about that night so little since it happened. There was a day or two at Shell Cottage where I allowed myself to cry, but then we'd been on the hunt for Horcruxes again, making plans to break into Gringotts, and I'd pushed it to the back of my mind.

I ran my finger across the thin line that still ran beneath my jaw. Had something changed in me that night? Or was it later, during the final battle? Or perhaps earlier, when I'd modified my parents' memories, or when Ron left me in the forest?

I chewed on my lip, not finding any answers in my mind, only more questions.

Realising that my current train of thought was not going to help me patch things up with Snape or help me convince him to live, I sighed and rolled out of bed.

Snape didn't return that night for tea. It wasn't completely unusual, though he normally left a note if he was going to be away.

On the second day that Snape didn't turn up, I thought he probably needed some space after our fight, but once he calmed down in a few days he'd return and we could talk.

After four days, I started to wonder if he was avoiding me. It was something I'd never expect Snape would do; he'd always seemed rather forthright in dealing with things—cunning, cruel and manipulative, perhaps, but not one to avoid something just because it was uncomfortable. Unless something else was wrong, of course, but it didn't seem like it; I could still hear him in his office during the day having meetings, talking with the portraits, or simply pacing back and forth in a steady rhythm.

By the seventh day, I'd had enough. The man was clearly avoiding me, and I wasn't about to let it happen any longer. I refused to give up on my mission; I also thought I'd go insane if I had to spend five more months cooped up in his tower alone like a bushy-haired Rapunzel. No, I was not one to wait around to be rescued. It was time to act.

I waited until the end of the day, when I knew his final meetings would be over, but he was still in his office. Donning Harry's Invisibility Cloak, I took a steadying breath and opened the one door I was not supposed to. His wards, thankfully, did not appear to include a Caterwauling Charm, and so I continued down the steps towards his office.

Snape was sitting at Dumbledore's old desk, writing something on a piece of parchment, his shoulders hunched forward and his hair falling over his shoulders so I could see only a small triangle of pale skin at the back of his neck amongst an otherwise black form.

"I thought I told you to stay in my quarters, Miss Granger," he said smoothly, unmoving, as I crept out from the doorway, and I jumped.

"How did you—?" I asked quietly.

He lifted his head and turned around with a sneer, but I could tell he could not see me; his eyes scanned the back of the room as if trying to pick up a shimmer of fabric, a hint of my form, but they always passed over me.

"My wards, Miss Granger," he said with a sigh. "Go back to my chambers."

I huffed, remembering why I was down here in the first place. I wasn't going to be turned around easily.

"Why haven't you been to your rooms in a week?" I asked, keeping my distance in case he tried to reach out.

"I would have thought the reason would be perfectly obvious," he drawled, his dark eyes still searching for me beneath his scowl.

I narrowed my eyes beneath the cloak and took a careful step forward.

"I'm really sorry for kissing you, Professor," I said, "but you can't avoid me forever."

"I could if you bothered following my instructions, Miss Granger," said Snape smoothly. "Though I suppose that is too much to ask of a Gryffindor."

Gods, he was infuriating sometimes.

"Please come back upstairs," I said. "We need to talk."

"I don't see what there is to talk about," he said, his face blank as he continued to scan the room. "You made it perfectly clear you wished to be left alone."

"I never said anything of the sort," I snapped.

"Does 'leave me alone' have another meaning I am unaware of?"

I blinked. When had I ever said that to him? I'd sworn, I'd told him I felt insulted, but I never said 'leave me alone,' except when I was in my room, I thought…

"You used Legilimency on me again!" I shouted.

Snape did not answer me, but I knew it was true.

"I thought you trusted me," I hissed, feeling hurt all over again.

"Miss Gr—"

"Hermione," I interrupted him. "Look, I admit I made a mistake kissing you, but that doesn't give you the right to insult me, and it doesn't give you the right to go looking in my head!"

Snape sighed. "Go back upstairs, Miss Granger."

"Not unless you come with me," I said firmly, wondering why he had to make this so difficult.

"Go upstairs!"

"Not without you!"

Snape's nostrils flared as he huffed in rage, but he stood from his seat and strode over to the concealed door to his chambers.

"After you, sir," I said calmly, following him inside, being sure to stay out of reach.

Once we were safely back in his quarters with the door shut, and I was sure he wasn't going to simply flee again, I took off the cloak. We stood in the centre of the room facing each other like mirrors, arms folded over our chests and glaring sourly at each other.

"Look," I began, deciding I would be the bigger person and apologise for what seemed like the hundredth time, "I'm sorry for kissing you, and I'm sorry for yelling, but I didn't want you to stop talking to me—there's a reason I don't voice all my thoughts. Honestly, I was hurt by what you said. I was insulted that you'd think I was… throwing myself at you like Pansy or Alecto, or that I was kissing you in a way that insulted you," I tried to explain.

"Then would you care to explain why you… attacked my person in such a way?" he asked, his expression unchanged.

"I told you last night," I said.

"I refuse to believe you actually—how did you so eloquently put it—'like me'," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Your refusal doesn't make it untrue," I said, not understanding why he found it so hard to believe. Though, he did want to die. Was it possible he hated himself that much?

Snape raised an eyebrow at me, and for a moment I thought he was going to use Legilimency again, but instead his frown softened somewhat and he rubbed his temple.

"It would be better if you did not feel that way," he said softly, not really looking at me.

Clearly, this was not a conversation he wanted to be having. Not that it was one I wanted to have either.

"I understand you don't feel the same way about me, Severus. Again, I'm sorry for kissing you, and I'll control myself in the future."

"You'd better," he said.

"It won't happen again, I promise. Please forgive me. I don't want one kiss to get in the way of our friendship," I said, looking at him imploringly. His gaze snapped back to mine, his lips rising in a sneer.

"When have I ever given you impression that we were friends?" he said silkily, and though he didn't move I felt like he'd hit me with a Stupefy.

Grappling for words, I spewed, "Gee, I don't know, maybe when I healed you?" I stood tall, forcing myself to stay strong and not to cry.

"That was a mistake," he said, looking down his nose at me as if I was a fleck of irritating dust.

Don't curse him. Don't do it. He's trying to make you hate him. He has to be—right?

"Then why did you teach me to heal? Or was that a mistake too? Is everything nice you've ever let me do for you or done for me a mistake?" I asked, my voice verging on a shriek.

"For an insufferable know-it-all, you ask far too many questions," he said smoothly, avoiding my questions.

"For a brilliant professor, you give far too few answers," I snapped back.

We stared at each other for several minutes, Snape's face irritatingly blank, giving none of his thoughts away. Part of me wanted to shake him, to hex him over and over again until he told me what he really thought, what he really felt about me, and why he wanted to die, but I knew that was impossible. Severus Snape was like an impenetrable fortress; unless I could find some secret weakness, some tiny crack, and blow it to smithereens to make a hole, there was no way I could get inside.

There was a reason Dumbledore gave you eight months, remember?

"I should go to dinner," said Snape finally, breaking our stand-off. I sighed, thinking that I may need eight years to figure this man out.

"At least promise me you'll come back after for tea?" I asked. After all, I still needed to see the man if I was going to figure this out.

"I suppose if I don't you'll come find me?" he glowered at me.

I was unable to stop my lips from quirking into a small grin. "Of course," I said, some confidence returning to my voice. "You wouldn't want to put me in danger, would you?"

Severus frowned. "You know, you are quickly becoming more infuriating than Potter."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said. Harry was, after all, one of my best friends and someone I cared about deeply.

"You shouldn't," said Snape, but his voice lacked the venom that said he was being serious.

"But I will," I said with a defiant smile. "Promise me you'll come back?"

"Fine," hissed Snape.

"Say it," I said, thinking I sounded a little bit like my mother.

Snape growled in frustration before muttering, "I promise, Miss Granger."

"Hermione," I corrected him for the umpteenth time and his eyes narrowed, but before he could respond I said, "Have a good dinner, Severus. I'll see you later," and turned my back on him, sitting on the couch to await my own meal.

Snape only nodded his head and then slipped out the door, and I wondered if he'd really come back or if I'd have to find a way to drag him out of the Great Hall.

As it turned out, Snape apparently kept his promises and did return for tea that evening. I tried my best to pretend like everything was normal despite his deep scowl and the far too dramatic way he flung himself onto the sofa after entering the room, and poured him a cup of tea the way I knew he liked it.

Snape didn't say a word, but did grunt when I asked him later if he'd like a refill. Mostly, he kept his face hidden behind his ancient copy of Aterdrincan.

I did my utmost not to watch his elegant hands as he cradled the black leather tome in his long fingers, although my own book was not nearly as interesting to me as his digits.

He doesn't like you that way, Hermione. You're just going to have to find a way to get over him. Think about someone else. What about Ron?

But the thought of being attracted to Ron again made me shake my head so furiously that my hair tangled in front of my eyes. After unsuccessfully attempting to blow it out of the way, I scraped my fingers through my mess of curls and resettled myself against the arm of the sofa, stretching my legs out in front of me.

At least this way it's easier not to look at him and his damn hands.

It took far longer than it should have, but I finally forgot about the dark wizard on the couch across from me and became thoroughly absorbed in a chapter on counter-curses. It only made sense then that only ten minutes after forgetting he was in the room I heard him clear his throat, ripping my consciousness once more towards him. Scowling and determined not to lose my hard-won concentration, I did not turn my head, and buried my face more deeply into my book.

"Hermione," he said quietly, and though I felt I should be annoyed at his audacity to remind me he existed when I was trying my hardest to forget him, the fact that he used my given name for the first time in over a week softened my resolve.

"Yes, Severus?" I asked, resting my book in my lap and turning to look at him curiously, praying he did not have some final scathing remark to make.

He cleared his throat again and ran a hand through his stringy locks, pushing them behind one ear. "The other night, I did not mean to insult or disrespect you. I apologise," he said softly, and to my surprise his words sounded completely genuine.

As if his apology wasn't enough, I saw that same glimmer of shame and fear in his eyes I'd seen the night of The Kiss.

Honestly, I was under the impression Severus Snape didn't do apologies. But then, I'd also been previously unaware that he had feelings beyond loathing and frustration. It was yet another thing to add to my growing list of Surprising Things About Severus Snape.

Ignoring the fact my heart was doing somersaults in my chest, I smiled at him and said, "Thank you, Severus. You're forgiven."

He seemed to let out a breath, and then his visage returned to his expressionless gaze and he gave me a stiff nod before returning to his book.

Considering I wasn't expecting an apology, a return to normal conversation seemed too much to ask for, I supposed. But his words had given me a slight comfort, and so I returned to my own tome, thinking I still had tomorrow, and about five months worth of tomorrows after that to find the crack in his walls.

One step at a time, Hermione. One step at a time.