Severus had vehemently refused to engage in any further musings on the young woman who had almost walked out of his life but had unfortunately decided to stay. He knew better than most that a few short days could in all actuality feel like a lifetime. He did not want to speak to her, he did not want to acknowledge the awkwardness of the entire encounter since that evening. He had put himself at great risk by even bringing her to the lodgings in the first place and he was at even greater risk now that he had allowed her to stay. If anyone should be trying to find her, they could very well stumble across an even better prize, a man thought to be dead, a traitor who had escaped the punishment that he deserved. The thought of being discovered by the death eaters and being brought to the Dark Lord sent a bolt of cold fear up his spine. Severus knew exactly what depths the madman would sink to in his anger, he had witnessed many an awful sight, the horrors of disobedience and failure. He would not begin to comprehend the pain and torment that would await him should he be discovered. He had found a sense of peace and secluded normality in Dijon and that had been revealed to be fragile and capable of being shattered, all thanks to one of the most frustrating Gryffindor's he had ever had the misfortune to meet (and that was saying something).
He had left her to her own devices and ruminations and had instead retreated to his potion's lab. When all else had failed in the world, when everything was but bitter disappointment on his tongue, potions was the lover he had always wanted but had never truly had. She embraced him, soothed his concerns, wiped away his tears and his frustrations, encouraged him and challenged him to succeed, to move beyond all the hurts and traumas of life and triumph against the adversity that always swelled to meet him. His mother had failed him, his father had failed him, Dumbledore, The Dark Lord, the death eaters, he had even failed himself but potions was a constant mistress who defined him solely by his potential and his devotion to her. She forgave him his faults, all of them. She was the only one who had and the only one who ever would. There was no punishment from her, merely calm acceptance that he was human and needed to practice his craft at the alter of her worship.
The concept of time in his potion's lab was one that he was both acutely aware of and completely dismissive of. Time was only applied to the brew, never to his life. Severus could easily enter into his lab in the early hours of the morning and remain there until the last rays of the sun had disappeared on the horizon. He thought nothing of it, focused on the brew and the subtle and exact art that was potion making. As he brewed, Severus felt the corner of his lips twitching upwards into something that could almost resemble a smile as he recalled the words of devotion that he espoused to the first years on their first day in his class. He believed every word with every fibre of his being and, he believed in part, that was why he was as skilled in the craft as he was. Potion making was more than just cutting ingredients, putting them in a cauldron and hoping that it would come out the way it was supposed to. Potions was about care and love, although he would rather keel over from a massive coronary than use such words in conversation. There had been only one person who had heard him speak in such a way and she was not going to expose his secrets, she was far beyond the concerns of flawed and damaged souls such as he.
Severus felt a tightening in his chest as his thoughts shifted to Lily. It was an inevitability. Potion making was a joy and love that they had shared together. Every time that he brewed in seclusion, he felt her presence as though she were in the room with him. He could feel her eyes on him and he desperately wanted to turn and embrace her but he knew better. She would disappear as soon as he even glanced over his shoulder and so he remained focused on his task, her fingers a cool grip around his heart. He hadn't made a conscious decision of what he was going to brew, rather he had chosen a selection of ingredients and improvised. He always found that he enjoyed experimentation when his thoughts were in disarray rather than following a prescriptive recipe. The brew was not always a success and that in itself was frustrating but it did take his mind off whatever was concerning him at that moment in time. With the door firmly closed, he protected himself from the world that waited outside and never once had that failed.
Hermione felt at a loss as to what she should do or even could do. She had already crossed his personal boundaries and, based on his door slamming exit, she doubted that he would be happy with her following him. She could go back to the bedroom she'd been in the night before or she could sit down and wait for him. It seemed rather ridiculous to wait around for him to sweep back into the room and probably throw another aggressive and insulting comment at her. She should be used to it by now, after all, he had been her teacher for 6 years.
She scanned the room, her eyes landing on the various features of the space. There was a part of her that wanted to explore the room around her but she wasn't sure if that would be the right thing to do. She had already invaded his personal space, could he tolerate it if she started touching his possessions? The books on the shelves against the wall called to her and she had to admit that she was so very, very tempted to reach for the tomes and eagerly devour their contents. Hermione approached the bookcase, her hand reaching out, fingers gently brushing against the thick spines of the books. The only thing that stopped her was the image of him glaring at her and that lip curling up into a sneer. He had seemed pretty angry at her before and she really didn't want to push her luck. Her survival instincts were good enough that she wasn't going to do something that could potentially enrage the monster that was lurking in the man. She had to remember, he had been a death eater once and that was an important fact that she could only forget at her peril. She wanted to trust him, she felt the beginnings of that stirring within her chest but that didn't mean she was going to let her guard down completely and do something foolish. She was the brightest witch of her age for a reason.
Hermione's ruminating was interrupted by a growling in her stomach. She glanced down, almost surprised before feeling a little sheepish. Of course, she was hungry, she hadn't eaten anything and, casting a glance at the closed door the dark-haired man had strode through, she realised she wasn't the only one. That in mind, she made her decision on what she would do. She was going to cook, not just for her own sustenance but almost as a peace offering. After all, her mother had told her once that a way to a man's heart was through his stomach and she fully believed that after her time with-
Hermione shook her head and took in a deep, cleansing breath. Her thoughts had begun to stray and, as always seemed to be the case, they strayed to Ron. Her heart ached in her chest at the thought of his smile, stretching wide across his face, eyes lit up at the mere idea of food. He had always enjoyed his food and after being raised by Molly Weasley, no wonder. Hermione tried to smile at the pleasant image because it was indeed pleasant but there was too much pain. She missed Ron so much and even the thought of Mrs Weasley was enough to make her ache even more. She had no idea if the older woman was even aware of her youngest son's demise.
Hermione closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, stretching her fingers individually as a way to try and ground her in the present moment. The images of Ron swam in front of her; of him looking at her with that adorable sense of bewilderment, of him grinning in triumph at the latest Gryffindor Quidditch victory, of him grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her close to him, his fingers brushing through her hair. Hermione focused on her breathing, counting the breaths and expanded her awareness to the slight noises of the lodgings around her, the occasional creaking of a floorboard that indicated there was someone else present just beyond the door.
Her stomach growled again and Hermione opened her eyes, placing one foot forward and then another, searching for the opening that would lead to the kitchen. One door was ajar and Hermione approached, slowly opening it and peering in to check that it was indeed the kitchen. It was a small kitchen but it was leagues better than what she had been accustomed to for the past few months. She opened the cupboards and rifled around, searching for something edible. She found a carton of eggs, checked the date and was satisfied that they would still be edible. She pulled the carton out, grabbed a saucepan that was hanging off a rack secured to the wall. There was oil in the cupboard and she sprinkled some of that in the pan, using her wand to light the stove. It was times like these that she loved magic, no fiddling around with potentially frustrating stoves for her.
Hermione wordlessly summoned a jug, a fork and a skillet and, after checking both were clean, she cracked open the eggs and whisked them with the fork before tipping the contents into the pan. She used the skillet to prod the egg mixture and hummed along to herself as she cooked. It didn't take her all that long before the eggs were ready. She reached for another fork and two plates, moving the saucepan between the two plates as she tried to ensure that the portions were equal. It was only when both plates were filled and the saucepan had been abandoned in the sink with the skillet that Hermione realised that she now had to give one of the plates to a very irate Potions Master who had angrily told her to stay out of his way. Was she going to cause more harm than good if she interrupted him with food? Hermione almost decided against giving him his plate but she realised that it was borderline cowardice and she was a Gryffindor Lioness; she could deal with the ex-Head of the Snakes.
Hermione lifted both plates off the counter and walked out of the kitchen, approaching the door that Severus had previously stormed through. With her hands full she reached out with her foot and gently scuffed it against the door. She waited in silence for a few moments but received no answer. Hermione didn't want to tempt fate by walking in unannounced but he had obviously not heard her, either that or he was deliberately ignoring her. Hermione was a bit more forceful the second time, effectively kicking at the door.
"Professor Snape, I didn't see you eat any breakfast." She called through the door, speaking up a little bit louder than she normally would have. "I've brought food. Eggs." She finished her sentence rather lamely. She was about to give up and turn away when the door was wrenched open and she was face to face with Severus Snape, a scowling Severus Snape. He looked her up and down once before examining her offering, reaching out to take the plate grudgingly and then slamming the door in her face.
Hermione was flabbergasted. She wasn't quite sure what she had been expecting but she definitely considered that to be rather rude. She sighed, shaking her head and taking a step back. Well, she thought, at least he's going to eat. She turned on her heel but before she could take another step the door creaked open behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see that Severus had returned.
"I hope you haven't destroyed my kitchen Miss Granger." Severus' tone was scathing which was almost the norm for him. It was something that she had come to expect over the years she had been taught by him.
"No Professor, I'm not that bad at cooking. I wasn't sure what you'd like to eat and I found the eggs first." She explained. "I hope you don't mind eggs." She added the last part worriedly. There was a flash of something across Severus' face, that Hermione couldn't quite interpret. It had been so quick that it might never have been there to begin with.
"This will be satisfactory Miss Granger." He replied stiffly.
"Please, call me Hermione. We aren't in school anymore." Hermione's voice was friendly, a polite smile resting on her lips.
"And yet you still call me 'Professor'" Severus pointed out with a slightly raised eyebrow. Hermione opened her mouth to speak but wasn't quite sure what to say, he had a point.
"Relax Miss- Hermione." Severus caught himself quite quickly. Hermione was smiling again, that same polite smile. She was trying to get on his good side, as much of a good side as he had and if she thought for one minute that he didn't know what she was doing, she had another thing coming.
"Thank you for the eggs. I will be in the lab for the rest of the morning." Severus explained. As unwelcome and annoying a guest as she was, she was still a guest nonetheless. "You may peruse the volumes in my library and I will join you in due course." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as her entire face lit up with barely restrained joy at the permission, he had just given her. He knew that the temptation to read them would have taken her over eventually and so he graciously granted his permission.
"Thank you." She bowed her head slightly and then walked off into the kitchen, a slight spring in her step. Severus for his part, shook his head and closed the door.