A series of loud chiming blared through the Snape townhouse.

Hermione bolted upright in her borrowed bed and blinked away sleep. Chimes. What did those….ah. Right.

Chimes were for Remus, Cherub chatters for Draco, Beeps for Severus and bells for herself…chimes…for Remus.

Oh no, he had just gone home!

Hermione leapt out of bed, completely forgetting house slippers and robe. She skidded down the hall, and thundered down the stairs. Just in time to observe Severus picking up a slightly smoking slip of parchment from the still green flamed fire. He glanced up at her, where she stood frozen on the stairs. His black eyes unreadable, the slight tension in his shoulders telling her the story instead.

Whatever it was, it wasn't life threatening, just not something Severus was going to enjoy.

For a moment, she was baffled by her own logic.

How had she known what Severus was thinking? Then, it hit her.

Harry and Ron had always been the same, drawing their tension upwards, from their very feet to the top of their ears. Though, Ron had been a bit easier to read than Severus would ever be.

Harry was generally an easy read—if you only wanted to know what he wanted you to know. Harry could produce a physical shield of emotions and maintain it for days on end, hiding whatever he was really thinking.

Ron, however, had his ticks. Fiddling with the hem of his shirt, tapping his foot, allowing his eyes to stray to the upper left, tension in sections of his body.

Severus would certainly not be pleased to know she had just compared him to the other two thirds of the Golden Trio, but honestly, she could care less.

"What happened?"

"He knows."

Severus said nothing more, simply snapped his night robe around his lean body, and made his way past her, up the stairs. Hermione remained, frozen on the exact middle step. She dropped onto the carpeted step in shock.

Harry knew. What did he know?

Where she was? Who took her? What was he thinking?

Snape, the bloody bastard. Leaving her with barely the essentials.

Hermione curled in on herself, wrapped her arms around her shins and dug her chin into her left kneecap. It would be good to see Harry again.

His sun warmed skin, buzzing ever so slightly with all of that barely contained magic. The deep rumble that bubbled in his chest before true laughter. The sound of it, caramel smooth and soul warming. The scent of those caramel nougats he always seemed to have hidden on his person…Hermione found she almost couldn't wait.

A trip to the kitchen found her seated on the counter, a jar of caramel in one hand, a silver spoon dripping with the golden stuff in the other, lips already stained with sugar.

No, she really couldn't wait.