Author's Note: There are no videos for this chapter. One, because there are only snippets except for one song, and two, because my laptop's motherboard fried this weekend, and I have no access to my music. I should have it replaced and ready to go by next Sunday. Most of these you should know, and I've included a list at the end. Welcome new readers! Reviews are always appreciated.

Chapter Twenty One

It had been over a week, and Severus Snape was losing his mind. Poppy had refused to let him out of his rooms for two full weeks, insisting that after all the torture he had been through before, combined with that fateful night, his body had earned a vacation.

She had even had his doors warded in case he tried to leave. Wretch.

Slughorn had come back to teach his students while he recovered. The official story was that there had been a Potions accident. Rumors, however, were wildly varied. Some of them were close, such as the one that said that Voldemort had tortured him for not attacking the students. Others – that he was a vampire out to feed, he had accidentally turned his hair pink and refused to be seen, he had actually killed a student with his glare – were a little more farfetched.

He still had two more days of confinement, and he wasn't sure how he wanted to pass them. His grading was finished and sitting in a neat pile on his desk, and Slughorn was handling the current assignments. Hermione had only been down once briefly, awkwardly, to visit him, and now he found even grading her papers painful.

And, to top it off, the white king seemed to have lost its mind as well. It was attempting to pin flowers on his jacket and nudging certain colognes and potions toward him in the mornings. Once, a book of Byron fell off his bookshelf as he was reading, revealing the little king behind it. It was even bursting into song on a daily basis. Severus had only barely managed to keep Hermione from hearing it when she came to visit and the king had felt the need to belt out, "'Pretty woman, walking down the street. Pretty woman, the kind I like to meet. Pretty woman, I don't believe you, you're not the truth. No one could look as good as you.'"

He was almost positive she had heard the piece when it growled, "'Mercy,'" from his pocket as he left the room, and he fervently prayed she hadn't attributed it to him.

She promised to come see him tonight and bring him dinner. The day couldn't pass any slower as he waited for the evening.

~~HGSS ~~

Hermione had had a hard time during the week as well. Potions was almost physically painful after shifting from Severus to Professor Slughorn. First of all, the only thing Hermione could think about was that stupid book. Harry had immediately started acting like he was better than her in Potions again, when anyone who knew about the book knew the truth. And, of course, it hadn't helped that Slughorn treated him like a prince of Potions anyway.

By the end of the first week, however, even Professor Slughorn was getting on the right bandwagon and starting to call on Hermione when it became apparent Harry was clueless without the book and with his Kia on the outs with him.

"Harry, m'boy! I bet you can tell us a potion that uses human parts," said Slughorn.

After a moment or two, it became clear that Harry was drawing another blank and wasn't going to answer.

Hermione raised her hand and interjected, "Polyjuice Potion."

"Excellent, Miss Granger! Take five points," said Professor Slughorn before going back to the rest of the class with a last, weary look to Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry as soon as they exited. "Not so smart without your book, are you? I certainly hope it taught you a thing or two."

"I know, I know. I'm not going to try any spells without knowing what they do," said Harry.

"I meant not to judge a book by its cover. You know, you had a lot of respect for the Half-Blood Prince last summer. Not so much now that you know who he is?"

"I don't know. I try not to think about it."

Hermione walked beside him as they headed to their dorms. "You know that the two of us are friends now. I really didn't appreciate the reception I received after I went to visit him."

It had been hard enough for her to go and visit him in the first place. She had never been in his chambers before, except for sticking her head in when she was looking for him – which she had confessed to and apologized for repeatedly.

She had seen him in the hospital wing before he had been moved to his own rooms, and that had been awkward. She had found him sullen and withdrawn. After the dramatic changes to his life, he needed to figure out how he fit in the grand scheme of things again. Twenty years of dedication to a role, now suddenly freed. She supposed it was like retiring or finishing school. The big question hung over his head.

Now what?

Hermione was hoping that the rest period away from class would give him the time he needed to emerge from this liminal state. There were other ways he could contribute, if he still felt compelled to do so. If he decided he had given enough, no one would argue that either.

She had played her piano softly in the corner of the infirmary during her visit, giving him his solitude while still showing her support with her presence. The next time she went to see him, he had been moved, but Professor McGonagall had told her how to find his chambers.

It had taken her a few days to work up the courage. Vaunted Gryffindor or not, no one, especially no student, wantonly walked into the chambers of Severus Snape. She was his friend now, but this was still not a line she crossed lightly.

She had fretted about it for a while, whether it was better to go and risk him being angry, or whether it was better to not go and risk him being angry. In the end, she had fallen back on the tried and true method of finding out if he wanted to see her.

May I come visit?

Yes.

And so that day after dinner, she had grabbed him a few of the biscuits he preferred off the table and gone to visit him.

She stared at the portrait covering his door for several moments before gathering the courage to knock. One she entered, she was startled to find…a normal room.

A living room that would not have been out of place in most houses greeted her. It was Hogwarts fashion, but at least it was more pleasant than his office. Nothing of peculiar origin in here, though she noted the Death Eater robes in a pile in the corner.

He was on the dark brown sofa in his full regalia. Wearing his coat even in the privacy of his own rooms made her laugh inside. Some habits die hard.

They made awkward small talk until he stiffly stood up and quickly left the room, apologizing. Hermione swore she heard a muffled "Mercy" as he left, and she was worried that she had overstayed her welcome. When he returned, she was surprised to see he had shed the jacket and was now dressed in simple black slacks and a white, button-down dress shirt.

Hermione rubbed her palms on her legs and straightened her robes. Merlin, he looked good. So aloof and casual on the sofa, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. He was all man.

She left shortly after he returned, still concerned about his comment earlier, and afraid she would do something she might regret later if she stayed. It was terribly hard to sit in the room and not touch him.

The confinement was hard on him, but she hesitated before seeing him again. The want was there, but that was part of the problem.

The want was there.

Not to mention that she really didn't want to aggravate him if he didn't want her around during his convalescence. Plus, her friends had been less than supportive, which brought her back to the conversation at hand.

"Well, you have to admit, Hermione, it's a bit much to take in, even for me. And I've dealt with some pretty strange stuff."

"You could have stopped Ron from yelling, 'Mother of Merlin, Hermione, what the hell were you thinking?'"

"Ouroboros," Harry spoke, and the portrait of the Fat Lady opened to admit him and Hermione into the quiet common room. Two students were playing chess in the corner, and one young girl was poring over her Transfiguration text, so the two friends found quiet seats to continue their discussion.

"So Ron overreacted a bit. He's Ron. But even though you two are friends, and he may be nice," Harry said with a grimace, "to you, he is still a git to the rest of us."

"Are you going to be able to handle this? Because I am friends with him. And he needs me right now, Harry."

"God, don't say things like that."

"Sorry, but it's true. He doesn't have people to talk to, and I want to be able to go visit him without coming back to minor meltdowns from those nearest and dearest to me." Hermione crossed her arms in a fashion Harry was familiar with. It said to agree with her or suffer the consequences, and the consequences would be dire.

"I can promise for myself, but Ron is a different story."

"Harry?"

"Hermione?"

She worried her lip and looked past him to the wall beyond. Her arms were still crossed, and her eyes had the faraway look that said she was considering something of importance.

"What happens if we become more than friends?"

"Gods, Hermione!" said Harry, jerking up in his chair from his previously lax position. "That's not funny! ...You're serious. You're serious, aren't you? Do you fancy him? Hermione, do you fancy that greasy git? Snape?"

"Professor Snape, Harry, and don't call people things that can apply just as well to yourself. I'm not saying anything, but, you know, things could happen. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I will be working here next semester after all."

Harry looked mortally wounded. His eyes were wide and green, mouth agape with a horrified expression.

"Maybe I do fancy him. A bit," Hermione admitted quietly. She looked at him with pain evident in her eyes. She was truly afraid of losing the first friends she had made at Hogwarts. "Will you still be friends with me? And would you, if he returns my feelings?"

Harry had managed to close his mouth and was regarding his friend seriously. Hermione didn't take relationships lightly, and obviously she cared for him if she kept going to visit and spend time with him in the evenings. "Is there any reason you think he might?" he asked, out of curiosity and disbelief.

"He kissed me on New Year's."

"THE HELL, HERMIONE! Don't you tell me anything anymore?"

"I didn't know what to say! I still don't know what to say. This is not exactly an everyday occurrence." Hermione curled her knees to her chest in her chair and wrapped her arms around them. She really didn't know what to say. Was telling Harry even a good idea? She didn't know, but she knew that not telling him was killing her. "You're my best friend, Harry. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't talk to me anymore."

Harry moved over and put his arm around Hermione. "I'm still your friend, Hermione. Even if you go off and have a brood of moody, black-haired babies. You just can't spring stuff like that on a bloke."

She looked at him. "You realize you could be talking about your own children? You two are more alike than you probably want to think about."

"You're right. I don't want to think about it. So he kissed you? Seriously?"

She nodded her head. "It was at the staff party. It was just once, quick."

"And then what happened?" he asked her.

"He got called off to Voldemort."

"It's always something," said Harry.

~~HGSS~~

He was not exactly patiently waiting for her to come visit that evening.

With grading complete and no new class work coming in, Snape had little to occupy his time. He was not used to so much leisure time. He found he was only truly content searching for a way to kill the Dark Lord. Vol-Voldemort. He was learning to say the name of his ex-master, in his head at least. Some day it would be easy or commonplace. That day was not today.

He had been perusing his library for new ideas for research, attempting to exploit some weakness in the fortifications of his nemesis. He had found nothing new, these texts having been searched many times over in the past, and he longed for the time when he could have the library of Hogwarts again at his fingertips.

The count in his portrait interrupted his musings. "A Miss Granger is here for you, sir."

Running a hand through his hair and making sure his clothes were not too rumpled, he opened the portrait.

Looking like a Muggle waitress, Hermione stepped through the hole. She had a tray in each hand, one carrying dinner and one containing a drink, dessert, and an apple.

With Hermione in his life, he certainly wasn't going to starve.

After exchanging pleasantries, he directed her to where she could set the trays down on the coffee table.

"You will be staying then?" he asked her.

"That's up to you," she carefully stated. "I have nothing planned for tonight, and I don't mind staying if you like, but if you prefer to be alone then I can find something to do as well."

"You may stay," he said, taking a seat on the sofa, not seeing the white king mimic his words from his pocket.

'You may stay', indeed! This man definitely needed him.

Severus raised his eyebrow as she sat herself in the chair and reached across him to snatch the apple off the tray.

"What? I cut dinner short to come down here and was still a little hungry. Did you want the apple? I'll trade you for the pie."

"You may keep the apple. I don't care much for vegetation."

"That's what I thought," she said with a smile. "Mind if I crack a book while you eat?"

He gave her a neutral shrug, and she went to examine his bookcases, curious about what he would have on his shelves and elated to learn the answer. She worked her way down from the top, slowly bending over to look lower and lower, unwittingly giving the good professor a delicious view of an apple-round bottom that made him completely forget about the previous fruit.

He sat there, fork poised halfway through its travels, until he heard the voice in his pocket. "'The clothes she wears, the sexy ways, make an old man wish for younger days. She knows she's built and knows how to please sure enough to knock a man to his knees.'"

Snape hissed at the king, "Will you be quiet?"

"'She's a brick house,'" sang the king by way of explanation for his behavior.

"What was that, Severus?" Hermione asked, still bent over and merely peering around her luscious thigh.

"Must be my stomach," he told her and made a show of taking another bite.

Shaking her head, she went back to finding a book. When she found something that looked interesting, she took a seat, curled in the chair, letting him finish his dinner in companionable silence.

All she needed was her knitting needles and her cat to make his vision complete.

After a house elf had come to clear his dishes, he noticed that she did not have her pack with her and thus must not have been planning on playing that night. It was odd that she would visit with no motivation. Every other visit had been to play.

This one was apparently just for pleasure, and he found himself intrigued with that idea.

"How are you doing down here by yourself? Managing to stay busy?"

"Not particularly, not that it matters," he told her bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

He waved his hand about the room. "Look at me. Look at this. I have no purpose now."

She looked at him, surprised. "Your whole life was hanging on Voldemort?"

"Of course it was! I've spent twenty years doing penance for being a dunderhead in my youth and getting my friend killed, working both sides of the coin to assist that crazy old codger, and now look at me. Now what? Without that purpose, there is nothing."

She had a wistful and sad look on her face. "You have no dreams? Nothing you would like to do with your freedom?"

"Why? Why do you care? Not one gives a rat's arse about what becomes of me now. I'll be expected to finish out the year and then? Minerva will no longer feel compelled to keep me here, unless I am being targeted directly. I have no friends, no family," he said morosely, "just some prying young chit who won't throw me out and let me die off quietly it seems."

Suddenly, she was on her feet, book dropped to the floor, and she reached over and pinned him in a tight embrace.

He felt like she was actually hugging him in anger.

Just as quickly, she stepped back, leaving him stunned by the intensity of her reaction to his words. "I'm not trying to pry into your life, and I would never throw you away. I care about you, you prickly little pain-in-the-butt porcupine. So buck up, and deal with it. I worry about what you'll become. Enough to fight with you about it. So I'm going to tell you that you had better find a purpose for your life pretty damned quick and start treating yourself with respect, or no one else will either. Floss, eat your veggies, and crack a smile every once in a while. I care, so you had better start acting like you do too."

He looked at her in shock. Apparently, his kissing her on New Year's had not frightened her off in the least.

"'Yes, you want her,'" sang his pocket softly, caressingly. "'Look at her, you know you do. It's possible she wants you, too. There is one way to ask her.'"

He could only imagine this was what it was like to have a devil on your shoulder.

"'It don't take a word, not a single word. Go on and kiss the girl.'"

Hermione was still glaring at him in that protective, fierce way.

"Perhaps…I have a purpose for living," he told her softly, then added even softer, "chit."

"Eeyore," she told him without blinking an eye.

She wasn't there for too much longer, and after she left, the room was unnaturally silent. It had felt right having her there with him, there in his chambers. It felt as though she was the candle missing from the darkness in his life, and the more she was around, the more he missed having her.

He took the white king out of his pocket and held it on his palm, eyeing it speculatively. He was a little disconcerted to find the king staring back.

"You were in a feisty mood this evening."

The white king pointed to Snape, indicating its next words were on his behalf. "'This morning, I woke up with this feeling I didn't know how to deal with, and so I just decided to myself I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it, and didn't I go and shout it when you walked into the room. 'I think I love you!' I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for.'"

Severus crossed his arms and glared at the king. "So you think I love her and just don't want to admit it?"

The white king nodded emphatically.

"And why would I possibly entertain the idea of saying anything?"

The king rolled his eyes. "'I've seen her expression as she looks in your direction. It's there in her eyes. You say there's no connection, you don't think that's her intention. Baby, you must be blind. I know that she wants you, she wants you, she wants you. I know it instinctively.'"

The older man raised a brow. "Doesn't a woman sing that song?"

The king just shrugged. Apparently, it was equal opportunity.

"And why do you want me to say something? I thought you had a bit of a thing for her."

The king looked so morose that Snape almost regretted asking the question.

"'Annie waits for a call from a friend. The same, it's the same, was it always the same? Annie waits for the last time,'" the king said sadly. "'Annie waits. But not for me.'"

"So you think she is becoming impatient waiting for me and not for you?"

Dark Man obviously wasn't as dumb as he looked. The chess piece had been afraid he was going to be like its mistress's scarred friend.

Or, heaven forbid, like Ginger.

"You are the demented Dumbledore of enchanted objects."

The white king hopped off his hand and shot him what looked like a stone middle finger as it made its way to the writing desk.

It looked like he was going to be alone in his chambers tonight. It did not bode well for his relationship with Hermione if even her enchantments didn't like him.

When he was finally released from confinement, it was not a moment too soon. The white king evidently didn't hold a grudge, as that next morning it was back to its singing again.

To make things worse, the king also resisted any efforts to leave it behind when Snape headed to class. Whether through its own volition or a defect of the charm, the king was now attached to his person. Muttering every threat he could conjure, he made his way to his first Potions class in a very sour mood, despite the fact that he was liberated and Hermione was in this class.

In fact, considering how the king acted around her, it was partly because of her impending presence that he was in a disagreeable mood.

He was thankful that this was a NEWT-level course, and he was therefore not expected to babysit the Neanderthals as they brewed their daily assignment.

A calculated eye was kept on the class, surveying the diligent students. All Houses were combined in this class since so few students were accepted at this level, but they mostly treated each other with respect.

Mostly. He still couldn't forget the incident between Hermione and Miss Parkinson earlier in the year.

Standing at the front of the class now had its advantages. Not only could he watch for brewing errors and developing arguments, but it kept the students unaware of his current predicament.

"'I've been really tryin', baby, tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long. And if you feel like I feel, baby, then, c'mon, oh, c'mon. Let's get it on. Ah, baby, let's get it on.'"

If ever there was a moment in his life that he wished to see the Dark Lord's wand pointed at himself, this was it.

"'There's nothing wrong with me loving you, baby, no, no. And giving yourself to me can never be wrong if the love is true. Don't you know how sweet and wonderful life can be? I'm asking you, baby, to get it on with me.'"

The small piece was in its usual pocket, wrapped tightly in Hermione's handkerchief, surrounded by a pair of socks to diminish the sound and movement as much as possible. Even still, Professor Snape could hear the ridiculous song muffled within and could feel the slight sway of the piece as it sang.

The bell rang, and in a harsh voice he ordered the students to bring up samples of their brewing for the day. He had not expected them to complete the potion but was not surprised to see Hermione's perfectly pale, purple potion (piss it!) as she and the Dreadful Duo (dammit!) approached the desk.

Even over the sound of the students and his personal juke-pocket, he could hear the conversation going on between Hermione and Mister Weasley.

"Doesn't seem right, Hermione. I don't like it," Ron whispered.

"Probably why I didn't ask you then, Ron. I'm just telling you how things are."

"But why would he want to see you?"

"Oh, I don't know, Ron, why did you want to see me, huh? Why do you want to be with me now? In fact, why do we continue with this farce of a friendship at all?"

Ron was smart enough to realize when he had spoken the wrong words and needed to get the train off that particular track. "I didn't mean it like that, 'Mione. I just mean it's not right to be spending time like that with an older bloke. And he's him."

Ah. So they were obviously talking about him then. Interest piqued, he paid attention as he halfheartedly accepted the other students' samples.

"Astute observation, Ronald. It's a wonder I don't look to you for academic advice as well."

"Yea, ha ha. We all know you're Kia. But he's just…cranky…and old…and cranky."

They were getting close to the desk now, and Hermione stopped and faced Ron with her arms crossed while she waited her turn. "Why don't you say it a little louder, Ron, so he can hear you," she whispered.

"He doesn't know we're talking about him," Ron retorted.

"He's Professor Snape, Ron. There isn't much he doesn't know, gossip or otherwise."

The professor stood a little straighter at her defense of his abilities.

As the three students approached the desk – Harry, wisely for once, had stayed out of the conversation – Severus took the three samples. He wordlessly put Potter's in the rack, placed Hermione's with a little nod, and then held up Ron's sample for closer inspection.

He was briefly able to ignore the still-singing pocket as he examined the small vial.

"'You don't have to worry that it's wrong. If the spirit moves you, let me groove you good. Let your love come down. Oh, get it on, come on, baby.'"

Ron looked around, confused, before asking Harry, "That you, mate?"

The three students felt the tingle of nonverbal magic as Ron's potion disappeared.

"Pity," said Snape, looking at the vial as though he was surprised it was empty. "Clearly, a pity. That's a zero for the day then, Weasley, and next time I suggest you pay more attention to your potion than your classmates."

Three students stared back at him, one becoming practically apoplectic and two, surprisingly, with small smirks on their faces, hidden so that their seething friend would not see them.

The protests could clearly be heard from the hallway as they left, with Hermione chastising her friend for his rude behavior.

~~HGSS~~

Back in the common room, Ron was still incensed about the incident in Potions.

"He just Vanished my potion! I know he did!"

"You can't prove anything, Ron," said Hermione. "And even if you could, it's the least you deserve for the way you were acting. You know he could have done much worse than a zero for the lesson."

"That's not the point though, is it?" said Ron, pacing back and forth in front of Harry, Ginny, Lorrell, and Hermione.

"Well, I mean, if you were acting like an asshole, then it only makes sense that he would act like an asshole in return, Red," Lorrell told her boyfriend.

"But he's been a right git to Harry since our first day here!"

"Oh, so are you whining that he started it, Ron?" asked his sister.

"You know what?" said Ron. "You're mental. The whole lot of you is mental. This year, everyone seems to have forgotten that he has made our lives miserable. "

"Or maybe," said Hermione, "we've just decided to give him the chance he never had."

~~HGSS~~

For his first free evening, Professor Snape made straight for the library. After the day he had had, which had only gotten worse after his first class, the feel of a book in his hands would be a balm to his frayed nerves.

After the disaster that had been his morning, he had had to deal with the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff sixth years. Normally that was not a troublesome class, but they had been listening to Slughorn too much and had already lost the sharp edge to their Potions skills. Not ten minutes into the class, a Hufflepuff girl added too much bicorn horn to her Polyjuice Potion, not only losing three weeks' worth of work, but also filling the room with a noxious gas, which had required evacuation until he could use a Bubblehead Charm on himself and clear the room.

He entered the quiet library, relishing the silence and musty smell of old parchment, wood, and dusty carpet.

Making his way back to his usual table, he rounded the corner in time to see one of the most enticing and endearing sights he had ever encountered, barely noticing the king's head once again protruding from his jacket and starting to sing.

"'Paid no attention, revolved through the door. Past the newspaper racks on the worn marble floor. Near Civil War history my heart skipped a beat. She was standing in fiction stretched high on bare feet,'" sang the king.

For once, his words were spot on. Hermione had shed her robes, for even though much of the castle was chilly, the library was always kept toasty warm with several large fires. She was standing in front of a high bookshelf, and her shoes could be seen slipped beneath a chair behind her. Barefoot, she stretched as high as she could, shirt riding high on her midriff, as her fingertips edged a book from its shelf.

"'Love in the library, quiet and cool. Love in the library, there are no rules. Surrounded by stories, surreal and sublime, I fell in love in the library once upon a time.'"

He watched her struggle for a moment, enjoying her appearance and her perseverance before deciding to come to the damsel's aid. Silently, he moved behind her, reached his hand above her, and grabbed the book in question. She started and turned to him, a little frightened at first, but smiling once she realized who it was.

Chest and trousers feeling the same tight reaction, it was clear that he wanted her in more ways than one and that something had to be done. Vowing to speak to her one way or another, he gave her a nervous grin in return, offered her a little bow while handing her the book, and then wordlessly proceeded to his corner to research.

And plot.

A/Nx2: The songs were Pretty Woman, Brickhouse, Kiss the Girl, I Think I Love You, She Wants You from Billie Piper, Annie Waits, Let's Get It On, and Love in the Library from Jimmy Buffet. I'd give you a teaser but my next chapter was on my laptop, lol. Sorry! I'll get my master copy from a friend tonight and add one on.