A/N: Thank you again for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter. And, yes, I'm a bit cruel with our lovely couple, but that's part of the fun for me (and hopefully for you too); I'll just say that you shouldn't expect me to stop, though there will be some lighter—dare I say even potentially humourous—moments making appearances from now on.

Let's see how Hermione is dealing with all of this, shall we? Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 14: The Day After

Hermione stretched in the bright morning sun pouring through the cracks in her curtains. She blinked, remembering her dream: Severus falling on top of her, staring into his bottomless eyes, touching his face, feeling his breath on her lips, the weight of his thin body on top of her own.

She shot straight up in bed, sending the covers flying and Crookshanks hissing onto the floor.

Severus is alive!

It was real! It wasn't a dream!

Last night he had risen out of his grave like a ghost. She'd thought he was some terrible creature or an Inferi come to torment her and had tried to hex him, but he'd quickly overpowered her. Then, locked beneath his lithe body, his hair falling across her face, she'd realized it was him—really him, the man she'd been craving and calling for. She'd had so many questions, but all she could do was touch his face, make sure he wasn't a memory or a dream.

He'd said he heard her, that he'd come back for her, but how could that be? She shivered, wondering what he meant by those words.

Was he still in the infirmary? She'd have to go see. She had to find him somehow, talk to him. Seduce him? No, he wouldn't want that, would he?

Hermione was roused from her mental deliberations of just how exactly she should approach Severus by a sudden tap at her window. Another insistent series of taps followed shortly after the first. She pushed the curtains aside, got out of bed, and there was Pigwidgeon, doing cartwheels in the air outside the clear glass, stopping to knock at the window with his beak every third rotation.

Oh God, Ron!

She'd broken up with Ron last night too—well, he'd broken up with her. He'd asked her to marry him. She'd declined. He'd left. He'd told her to go drown in Snape's memories.

Well, you certainly did something of the sort, she thought with a slight pang of guilt, following by a wave of sudden panic. Combined with the excitement of seeing Severus alive once more, her heart felt like it was going to explode it was beating so fast.

Calm down, Hermione, you can work this out.

With trepidation, Hermione opened the window to let the tiny owl inside, taking the letter from his leg and giving him an owl treat from her desk. Closing the window after letting Pigwidgeon out, she unfurled the parchment, her hands shaking. Her eyes darted quickly to the bottom to find it was not from Ron, with filled her great relief but also a surprising bubble of anger at being left on her own once again. Shaking her head, she returned to the top of the letter to read it in full.

Hermione,

Ron told us what happened. What a prat! I told him so too. I can't believe he would do that to you. Honestly, AS IF you'd be ready to marry him so soon after everything.

I know he told you it was over, but don't worry, he'll come around. He's a dolt, but he's not a complete idiot. He really does love you.

Let me know if you need any of your things right away. Otherwise I'll bring them the first of September. You are staying for your seventh year, right? Ron said you told him so. We'll be in lots of the same classes—it will be great!

Also, Harry said Snape's not dead?! McGonagal owled him late last night saying he'd come back. Seriously, he was dead, wasn't he? I remember the funeral… Anyway, Harry will be there later today. I'm sure he'll stop by and say hi.

Hang in there. Talk soon.

Love,

Ginny

P.S. Sorry for using Pigwidgeon. I'm sure you thought this was from Ron. I wouldn't have used Pig but Errol and Hermes were out delivering other letters.

Hermione sighed, tossing the letter onto her bed and watching Crookshanks pounce on it. She sat down to stroke her orange feline, who purred appreciatively.

"What am I going to do, Crookshanks?" she asked him. The beast looked at her, stretched out his claws, and dug them into the letter, shredding it as he kneaded in pleasure.

Having slept in due to her very late and emotional evening the night before, Hermione grabbed toast from the kitchens before making her way to the infirmary. After straightening out her robes, she peeked into the doors and was met with the sounds of Severus arguing with Poppy.

"I assure you, Poppy, I am quite all right!"

"You were in a grave for two months. Now lie back down and take this."

Hermione heard the clink of some bottles, then the sound of rustling sheets.

"I am not a child, Poppy, you do not need to tuck me in!"

The old witch tutted at him, and then walked toward Hermione, smiling when she saw her at the door.

"He's a little grumpy, dear. I'll be in here if you need anything," said the old matron, motioning at her office.

Hermione found her old professor tucked tightly up to his chin inside white sheets, a great scowl on his face. He had never looked more uncomfortable, and she wondered if Madame Pomfrey wasn't having a little fun at his expense: he looked not unlike a long marshmallow with an angry head sticking from one side.

Unable to stop herself, Hermione burst out laughing, the tensions of the past 24 hours spilling out of her.

"Severus, you look—" she gasped, clutching her stomach, unable to breathe properly between her trills of laughter.

"I'm glad you find my discomfort so amusing," Severus drawled, his scowl deepening.

"I—I'm sorry," gasped Hermione, trying to catch her breath, "but you really do look horrible."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he snapped and began thrashing wildly, trying to get out from under the sheets, but only managing to get himself further entangled.

"Let me help you," said Hermione, coming over to his bedside and attempting to untuck the edges, which were wrapped so tightly around the corners of the mattress it was as if they were held by a Sticking Charm.

"I am perfectly capable—"

"Stop moving, Severus, I can't get a proper grip."

"Hermione, if you just let me—"

As Hermione finally loosed the edge of the bedding, there was a flurry of sheets and robes, and they landed in a pile on the floor.

"Well, this certainly does seem to be becoming a theme," said Severus smoothly, the edges of his lips turning upwards. He was on top of her again, still partially tangled in the sheets, which lay mostly between them. They were both breathing hard—and Hermione wasn't entirely sure it was from struggling with the bedding. Hermione could only stare at Severus, her body and mind apparently frozen by his obsidian gaze.

"Hermione," he said, his voice quiet and gravelly. It made her tremble, and she licked her lips, not daring to look away from his burning black eyes.

"Well, Professor McGonagal told me you were back from the dead, but I didn't realize you'd be quite so lively, Professor Snape," said an amused-sounding male voice, and Hermione felt Severus stiffen above her as his head snapped to the side.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked a familiar face with green eyes and disheveled hair appeared behind Severus's right shoulder.

Another flurry of sheets and Severus was standing, trying his best to look stern and authoritative, but failing somewhat in his infirmary gown. Hermione stood and brushed off her robes, feeling her cheeks flush with colour. She was sure her face was as bright as a Gryffindor tapestry.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her in question, and she looked at the floor.

"Well, um, I think I'll let you both talk," she said quietly, turning to leave. She stopped and turned back before opening the door. "I'll be in the quarters in the Headmaster's Tower when you're done."

Then she quietly slipped out of the room.

The Headmaster's rooms looked quite different from when Hermione had first started. She had transformed the bed curtains into burgundy and gold tartan in preparation for Professor McGonagal, the vanity was finally repaired, Severus's objects packed up or moved away, and she was almost finished sorting the books into boxes by subject. In a wooden box on the table in the middle of the room were several dozen tiny bottles full of Snape's memories, along with his copy of Alice in Wonderland, mementos tucked back inside.

Harry found Hermione sorting through the last of the books.

"Hey, Hermione," said Harry, coming into the room.

"Hi Harry," Hermione smiled.

After much thought, Hermione had decided it was best to act as though nothing had happened, that her best friend had not found her lying vulnerably below her ex-professor just an hour previously, that she had not been thinking about kissing Severus when he did.

Harry looked at her quizzically, as if unsure what to say, and then said, "So Snape seems well…"

Hermione bolted forwards, grasping the front of his robes. "Please don't tell Ron, Harry, please," she begged.

Well that lasted about three seconds. Way to hold it together, Hermione. She let go of Harry's robes, feeling her face flush in embarrassment.

"It's okay, Hermione, I won't," said Harry, motioning for them to sit down. "I have to wonder though. You two looked pretty comfortable up there."

"I know what it looked like, Harry. But, honestly, it was an accident. He just fell."

"Okay," said Harry, looking not quite convinced. "Well, despite being dead for two months, he seems to be doing rather well. Poppy said he can leave later today."

"That's great," said Hermione, hopeful that the next time she saw Severus, they might be in private.

"He says he won't be returning to Hogwarts to teach," said Harry.

Hermione wasn't sure how to feel about that. She hadn't thought to ask, not that she'd had the opportunity. She hoped it didn't mean he wanted to escape from Hogwarts—and her—as quickly as possible.

Harry seemed to sense her mood. "Hermione, is something going on?"

"No," said Hermione tentatively. "Well, I don't know," she admitted in a rush, looking at the box of memories.

"I thought you and Ron were a sure thing," said Harry gently.

"I thought so too, for a while," replied Hermione, picking nervously at the hem of her shorts. "Maybe if we'd had more time before he asked me to marry him, I would have said yes."

"I know he can be a prat, but he does love you," said Harry.

Hermione nodded, tears starting to form at the corner's of her eyes. "Then why did he react the way he did? He says he loves me, but he never really thinks of what I want or need, does he? It was just like when he left us in the forest."

Harry tried to speak, but Hermione put her hand up to stop him.

"I know, that was partly the Horcrux, Harry. But that wasn't the only time, was it? And last night, he was so cruel. He told me to go drown in Snape's memories."

"So you're flirting with Snape to get back at him?

"Do you really think I would do that?" snapped Hermione crossly. "It has nothing to do with Ron."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Harry, looking mollified.

"But Ron's never trusted me, has he? With Krum, with you. What would happen if he found out about Severus? Nothing's even going on, I don't think."

"You don't think? Does that mean you—"

"Want it to?" finished Hermione, drawing her curls forward over her shoulder and twirling them anxiously with her fingers. "I don't know, Harry. I honestly have no idea. I thought he was dead until 12 hours ago."

"Last I checked, Snape was madly in love with my mum," said Harry softly, his eyes flicking to the floor and then back at her.

"He probably still is," said Hermione, her stomach fluttering uncomfortably. She sighed, deciding that her best friend deserved to know at least some of what was going on.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," she said, looking at Harry seriously.

"I won't, Hermione," said Harry, looking very concerned now.

"Well, you know I've been looking at Professor Snape's memories. There's a lot more than what he showed you and what I gave you for his trial: gatherings with Voldemort, time with your mum, being bullied and tortured and abused, hurting people too…

"For some reason, I started going to talk to him—well, his grave—afterwards. I talked to him about what I saw, but I also told him about me, the war. I knew it wasn't really him, but I felt connected to him, somehow. It made me feel better. That's where I was when Severus came back. It was after Ron told me to basically bugger off. I didn't know Severus was in Limbo. But I was crying, and then Severus appeared. I—I think he heard me Harry. When he came out of his grave, I tried to jinx him, but he just kept telling me he was trying to help."

Hermione let out a long breath.

"I've been having nightmares, Harry. Ron never asked if I was okay after the battle, just assumed I was fine. He never asked… And after I came back from Australia, he'd thought I'd be fine after three days—three days, Harry! But I wasn't. I'm still not okay. I'm not sure I'll ever be okay without them," she choked. Tears were running down her face now, and Harry drew her into a hug. She collapsed against him, allowing him to comfort her as she continued to cry.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't know," said Harry, rubbing her back. "I should have asked."

"Oh Harry, don't be stupid," she snapped, wiping her eyes. "It's not as if you haven't had a million things going on."

"I know, but you're my friend," he said.

"And that's why I'm telling you now," said Hermione, pulling away from him. She looked into his forlorn green eyes, which really did look so much like his mother's. "Please don't think you have to make it better, Harry. You've done enough. You deserve to be happy."

"But so do you, Hermione," said Harry, looking serious. His eyes flicked to his lap, then back to her. "I don't think we would have survived without you."

Hermione smiled through her tears. "I'm glad I could help you, Harry. You're my best friend. You don't have to say anything," she sniffed.

"Look at us, getting all sappy," she added, trying to lighten the mood. "Look, don't worry, okay? I'm sure it will get sorted out and all this stuff with Severus will be a big weird joke in a few months," she said.

"You sure?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Of course. I'm the 'insufferable know-it-all,' remember?"

Harry grinned. "Well, I should get going. Ginny'll have a fit if I'm not back soon—she's dying to know what's going on," said Harry, getting up. "Let me know if you need anything, or need someone to talk to."

He walked towards the stairs, pausing briefly at the top. "I won't tell Ron about anything, but you should tell him it's over for good, if that's what you want. Later, Hermione."

"Thanks, Harry. Have a safe trip back."