Disclaimer: It's not mine, it's all J. K. Rowling's.

A/N: Annie Talbot and Machshefa are the lovely ladies who beta-read this fic! : :hugs: :

Chapter 14: Meeting

Hermione had been to her parents' home, had spent Sunday between the Potters and the Weasleys, had worked all day Monday, being dragged by Ron and George into a pub after the day was over, would be working all day today, but she had the afternoon free tomorrow. She wanted to use this time to buy some last minute gifts, but before that, she had to meet Snape.

She'd sent him a note scheduling a meeting for two in the afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron. She'd been tempted to invite him for lunch, but had thought better of it. Since her last letter, where she'd told him that she thought the ring was his, he'd been silent. Of course, she wrote that he didn't have to reply, but since when did Professor Snape care for what people told him to do? The fact that he'd followed her instructions had her thinking that perhaps he wouldn't come.

No, he would come. He wanted the ring really badly, right? He could have sent a note confirming the meeting. That would make things easier, and Hermione wouldn't have to spend so much time thinking about it.

To be truthful, she would still be thinking about it, about Snape. It was disconcerting, actually, because how she'd been thinking about him had little to do with how she should think of an ex-professor, a man, say, twenty years her senior, a very complicated man who insulted and despised first, never caring for anyone but himself.

She wanted to believe that all those things mattered, but every time she added the Claddagh Ring into the equation, she realized that they might not be as important as she'd always believed. Hermione wanted to know Snape, to actually know him.

But what would she do if he didn't show up tomorrow? Would she go after him? She didn't know, and she'd contemplated those and other ideas until tomorrow became today.

It had been a snowy night, and when she left the Ministry to go for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, it was still cold, but the weather was more inviting. It was cozy in the pub, and Hermione had actually got a table for two in one of the corners of the place, keeping her away from the bulk of come-and-goers and with more privacy to meet Snape.

She took her time eating; she didn't want to have too much time of actual waiting. She'd brought a book to distract her, but still. Her mind wouldn't let her pay attention to the book as much as it was letting her pay attention to her meal.

Hermione drank the last of her hot chocolate and had at least twenty minutes to wait. She watched the movement of wizards and witches, entire families, walking in and out of the pub, coming and going from and to Diagon Alley, surely for last minute shopping.

While she observed, her mind wandered to the man she was waiting for, trying to imagine how Snape would spend Christmas. Would he visit friends? Professor Snape with friends was a difficult image to conjure. Would he spend the night with his family? Did he have any family? Mother, father, siblings… maybe a cousin… wife, kids…. Could Snape be married? Surely not; she would know if he were, right? A man couldn't hide a family for that much time…. Yet, what did she know of Snape? Nothing at all.

Hermione ordered another cup of hot chocolate and opened her book. Divination was not her thing, and ruling that out, she had no way of knowing the answers to her curious doubts. Some of them she might get from Snape, if he showed up. Until then she would try to relax and read, and so she did.

Two o'clock and he wasn't there yet. Five past two and no sign of Snape.

When had Snape been late for anything?

Two more minutes and Hermione was still alone in her table for two.

He isn't coming. Of course he isn't coming.

She tried to repress her feelings of disappointment; she tried to read another page before deciding whether she should wait any longer or accept that he wasn't coming.

"Did you bring the ring?"

She almost yelped in surprise. Looking up, she met the gaze of Professor Snape, menacingly standing at the side of the table.

"You're late."

He glared down at her. Hermione met his glare with firm calm.

"Talking would be easier if you sat down, Professor," she told him.

The moment of staring ended abruptly when he finally decided to take the chair across the small table.

"Where is it?" he asked. His tone of voice was quiet but clear over the hubbub of the pub.

"It's with me," she answered. "Do you want to order something to drink? I can–"

"Let's not pretend that this is a social visit, Miss Granger," he interrupted.

This didn't start well. It was obvious that he wasn't interested in anything but getting his hands on the ring. Let's get to business, then.

"Can I know the truth now?" she asked.

She watched his eyes narrow a bit.

"You've already figured it out, Miss Granger. The Claddagh Ring is mine and I want it back."

"And why didn't you say so before?" she insisted.

"Does it matter?"

Why was this so unsettling to him? Did he think that admitting he had a Claddagh Ring would diminish his unpleasantness somehow? Well, think again, Professor!

She laced her fingers and placed her hands over the book she'd discarded on the table. Hermione had the ring, thus the power, and there was no way she would get out of this meeting without some satisfactory answers.

"It matters, yes. I'm sorry, but your words proved to be empty; you've been lying in your letters since the beginning. You'll have to do better than simply stating that it's yours. I need proof."

His eyes were definitely narrowed now. She didn't squirm under his scrutiny and felt good about it. She raised her chin, defying him to intimidate her.

"I have no proof, Miss Granger, but you know it's mine. How can you sleep at night, having something you know isn't yours and which the rightful owner is claiming. How can you deny my claim?"

It was Hermione's turn to narrow her eyes. Was he calling her a thief, a blackmailer?

"If it's really yours, I won't make a fuss about returning it to you, so don't make me look bad in this situation, Professor. But without evidence, it's hard to believe you."

"So I've been told," he said with pursed lips, probably not for her to hear, but she heard, anyway.

This conversation was leaning towards dark paths, and she hadn't intended to go anywhere near there.

"This has nothing to do with anything you did in the past. I would trust you with my life if need be." She sighed. "It's just… I want to know more about this ring. It's been important to me since I found it. I've wondered since I found it how it ended up in the Shrieking Shack, who its owner was, how he'd acquired it… you know, the story behind it."

He rolled his eyes. "This is not a fairy tale," he complained.

If Hermione thought he'd been infuriating in written form, she'd forgotten how much worse he could be in person. She was losing her patience.

"I didn't say it was," she said irritated.

"Then why are you making a tempest in a teapot?"

The way he dismissed the whole matter with his gestures and expression was making Hermione's blood boil.

"This matters to me; this ring matters to me."

"It's not yours. Get over it, already."

At least that was said with a little more passion, she thought.

"I need to know!" she said, leaning her head towards him, so she wouldn't get too loud in such a public place.

"That's the problem, Miss Granger, you don't. It has nothing to do with you. You found something, you kept it, you came across the actual owner," he inclined his head in a short bow, taking a hand to his chest to emphasize his point, "and now you're dutifully returning it–"

"How am I to know if the ring was really yours?" she interrupted, not containing her indignation anymore.

"It's still mine," he corrected, but she wasn't really listening.

"How will I know if you're not lying to me yet again just because you're a Slytherin bastard who loves tormenting Gryffindors?" What had started as a lengthy rant stopped there. Hermione would have taken her hands to her mouth were this happening some years ago. Now, she simply blushed in an uncontrollable reaction to insulting the man.

Then he arched an eyebrow. He seemed amused, and she felt like calling him names again. To add to that, he said, "Don't let my presence stop you. Please, continue." He waved a hand to accentuate his request and then crossed his arms over his chest.

Watching him smirk like a sarcastic prat made using the power she had over him second nature to Hermione. "I should just leave and never talk to you again," was her answer.

The smug expression was gone, and he uncrossed his arms, bending forward and making his hair fall like a curtain over his face, but not hiding his intense eyes that seemed to penetrate Hermione's. She'd never realized how much power radiated from those black orbs until now; they were beautiful, actually.

But all thoughts of his eyes were forgotten when he said, quietly, "Fine, what do you want to know?"

That invitation silenced Hermione, who remained staring at his face, now thrown off of balance by this abrupt change in their conversation.

"I promise I'll tell the truth, just ask whatever you want to know so I can have the ring back."

Hermione couldn't remember hearing such sincerity from that silky voice before, not directed at her. She was suddenly at a loss of what to say. Finally, she settled for her most sincere curiosity.

"Why do you want this ring?"

That seemed to annoy him again.

"What do you want to hear? That it belonged to my deceased wife? That I have a sick baby daughter at home who won't get better until her dearest dad brings home her Claddagh Ring for Christmas?"

She didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know what to think of what he'd said. She could only stare, not wanting to interrupt him for some reason.

He sighed in irritation before continuing, "I want it because it's mine! What can't you understand, Miss Granger? Because I can be clearer: I… want… it… because… it's… MINE!"

That answer was not what she expected. He was evading the question again, and that bristled up her nerves.

"I don't believe you."

He growled.

She continued, "Because if I do, it'll mean that your life has no meaning at all. That you planned on dying that day in the Shrieking Shack. That you're even more miserable than you were during the war…."

Now he was staring at her in silence. She felt the need to say something.

"I don't want to believe that."

"You're right."

His agreement took her by surprise. It placed a weight over her heart that made her want to disagree with what she, herself, had said. She didn't have the opportunity to do so.

"I'm a miserable, frustrated suicidal whose life has no meaning at all."

She looked in horror at him. Hermione was numb with surprise while she watched him stand up from his chair.

He bended near her ear and added, "Keep the damned ring."

When she had finally overcome her surprise and turned to see where he'd gone, she didn't see him.

She'd let him go without his ring.

Coming next… Hermione gets desperate and goes after Snape.