Hermione sat on her bed, fuming. How could he do this to her? One moment, they had been locked together as one, sharing an incredibly passionate experience – her fingers moved to her lips, still slightly swollen, and again butterflies were unloaded in her stomach – and in the next instant, he had put on his impenetrable mask and had morphed into Professor Snape, her remote former teacher.
She wanted to break through the walls he had so carefully built around him, but she knew she could not accomplish that by force. She had to play his game if she wanted to succeed. She reclined on her bed and pondered the situation. Harry had called a meeting which was to take place in the library after dinner where Snape would be present, too. She would use the time until then to come up with a plan. Or at least to think of a way to keep her friends from noticing that she was a crazed vortex of madness, confusion and need. If she faced Snape right now, she'd probably incinerate him with her stare by the sheer force of her fury. Or desire. Probably both. She sighed heavily, although her mood rather called for screaming in frustration. This man! This impossible man!
...
After several attempts of some sort of calm and serene meditation, Hermione decided her state of inner peace was as good as it was going to get. It was time for the meeting, anyways. She walked down the stairs and slipped into the library.
Most of the current inhabitants of Grimmauld Place were already in attendance. Ron, Harry and Ginny lounged on the couch, while Kingsley Shacklebolt reclined in an old, tattered armchair. Snape had chosen to sit next to the fireplace, which gave him the best outlook over the room. He met her eyes and acknowledged her with a small but wary smile. He quickly settled back into a distant, neutral expression as his gaze kept sweeping over the room, focused on the snippets of conversation. She tried not to feel hurt at his quick dismissal. She knew he could not have given her more than that in front of a room full of people even if he had wanted to. Still, she wouldn't let him off the hook quite so easily.
Hermione checked her seating options, delighted to find a small ottoman in a corner that would allow her to observe the room, but also seated her slightly behind Snape, so that she would be able to study his profile while he would have to turn his head to look at her.
She walked over to the ottoman and sat with her back against the wall, pulling her legs up and under her. When she had settled in comfortably, the door creaked open once more and spilled three people into the room. Neville, Luna and Aberforth settled onto the second couch, and everyone turned to Harry expectantly.
He had never asked to be the leader of what remained of the Order of the Phoenix, but somehow, he had moved – or rather had been moved – into that position quietly but inevitably over the last few months. After the war, the Order had been scattered, and when the first whispers of a Death Eater rebellion had reached their ears, it had been Harry they had turned to, and it had been Harry who had sought out the rest of the remaining members of the Order and ask them to come join their forces once more. He had again offered up Grimmauld Place as a base.
Harry had once asked Aberforth if he would be willing to take over, as he had already been heavily involved in the whole affair by hiding Snape away, but the reply that he had gotten was that "merry twinkling and manipulation of others for the greater goal" had been traits unique to his brother and he had no wish to do more than participate. So again, the hard work had fallen to Harry.
Harry stood up and started speaking, outlining the events of the previous months. Hermione already knew everything Harry knew, so she let her thoughts, and consequently her gaze, wander to Snape. Although he, too, must have already been briefed on all aspects of the situation, he still held his gaze fixed on Harry in concentration. She could not see all of his profile, but she could make out the slight frown that seemed to be a permanent feature of his face. It was very endearing in its own way. His whole snarky and irritable behavior, she realized, no longer bothered her. Indeed, it almost was the other way around. When he sometimes snapped at one of her friends in the kitchen, she had to work very hard on suppressing a smirk. He kind of had his own charm going there. It made her want to get up and ruffle his hair and tease him and grab him by the coat to kiss him and then…
Snape's head snapped around, and he pierced her with his stare. He had always been very sensitive to attention focused on his person. He seemed to have a six sense in that regard, which was proven again by him catching her staring at him now. She tried not to show any emotion as she raised one of her eyebrows just a fraction of an inch, giving a miniscule nod with her chin in the direction of the door, inviting him to leave the meeting with her. She registered a short flash of bafflement at her audacity in his reaction, which somehow gave her an intense sense of satisfaction. She telegraphed with her eyes that she intended to do wicked things to him if he left with her now.
Of course, she never intended to do that and they both knew it, but it was the game and for once, she was winning. She could see it in the spark of irritation that crossed his eyes before he turned his head to focus on what was being said. Hermione's smirk deepened.