Chapter Twenty-Five: Hello, My Treacherous Friends

She'd met up with Harry and Ron for Harry's birthday, and they'd gone together to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. Harry had politely dealt with the steady stream of witches and wizards who had approached with messages of thanks and well-wishing. He told them it reminded him of the first time he'd come there with Hagrid.

"How is he?" he asked Hermione.

"Hagrid? I've not seen him much recently, he's been away visiting Grawp in the mountains for a while. He seemed okay last time I saw him - the hut needed a bit of rebuilding, but apart from that, he and Fang wander around the grounds as normal, tending to all the beasts. He's a bit put out with the centaurs still though I think, but I'm sure he'll come round. Firenze is still talking to him at least.

"How's Auror training going?" she asked the pair.

Harry's face broke into an enormous smile as he suddenly began a long rendition of every fascinating thing he'd seen and learned since starting with the Ministry. Ron chipped in every now and then, but Hermione got the feeling he wasn't quite as enamoured with his career choice as Harry. Never mind - she was sure George would need a hand at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes if what she heard from Ginny was accurate. People had needed cheering up enormously after the war, and business was picking up fast.

After about three or four rounds of drinks, the Leaky wasn't looking like quite so much of a dive, and Hermione was chatting away animatedly about all the work they'd done on the castle, and how much she was looking forward to taking her NEWTs.

"You really should come and visit some time, you know? Both of you. I bet Professor McGonagall wouldn't mind you popping by for a bit, for old time's sake. She'd be pleased to see you too, I'm sure."

"It's not McGonagall we're worried about," muttered Ron, darkly.

"Uh, sure, we might be able to do that," interjected Harry, glancing between his two friends, concerned that something might be about to flare up.

"How's Snape?" blurted Ron. Harry ran his hand despairingly through his already messy hair - the thing he had been worried about clearly having happened.

"He's good, thanks," Hermione replied, uncertainly.

"Great... great," he mumbled.

"I expect you'll see him anyway, when the Ministry award the Orders of Merlin. I presume there's going to be some sort of ceremony in London. He's well enough to travel, so I expect we'll come down and stay somewhere for the evening."

"Together?" blurted Ron again.

"Um... maybe..." Hermione was suddenly shy. She didn't care who knew about the details of her and Severus's relationship at the school, where Snape still possessed a fearsome enough reputation to fend off any snide remarks, however when it came to her two closest male friends, she was a little awkward when it came to divulging anything concrete.

"You are seeing each other then? Like, properly?" Ron's face was starting to turn pink, but wasn't quite the colour of his hair yet.

"Yes Ronald, we are," she shot back, a little too snappily.

"Brilliant... Do you mind me asking what in the name of Merlin's pants you like about him?!" There it was. He'd finally gone far enough to stop dancing around the issue. She sighed, steeling herself.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business, but I find him completely fascinating. I imagine most people do! I heard Rita Skeeter's trying to write a book about him, documenting everything he did for the Order, and his motivations throughout the wars." She glossed over the fact in her mind, that Snape's presiding motivation for most of his undercover activities for Dumbledore had been Lily Potter. They all knew that, and she had gotten over any ridiculous notion of jealousy she might have had about it.

"Fascinating?! 'Mione, you find the Goblin Wars fascinating; you find house-elves fascinating! I just don't think that that's a good enough reason to-"

"'To' what?! You think I'm just studying him so I can write five feet of parchment about the life of Severus Snape?!" She was talking a little too loudly now and Harry cast a furtive glance around the pub, although they were in a quiet corner, and the people closest were either unable to hear, or were too polite to show they were eavesdropping on the trio. "I happen to love him!"

She had, of course, admitted as much to the object of her affections, and he had reciprocated, but she suddenly felt very vulnerable saying it to others, in public no less.

"You-..." Ron spluttered into his pint of Dragon Scale lager, "You what?!"

"Yes Ronald, I love Severus. What's so hard to imagine about that?" Her hands were on her hips, and Harry was looking back and forth between the pair, searching for an opportunity to jump in and try to defuse things.

"Oh, well, no - I'm sure he's fabulous company(!)" snarled Ron, rather bitterly. "What in Merlin's name would you do without having someone around to insult your teeth every morning, and tell you you're a show-off?! Bet you're dying to take him back home to your mum and dad..."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" she shrieked, but under her breath, noticing a couple of people at a nearby table start to shoot furtive glances in their direction, "I'll have you know, he's a changed man. And we never even got to see most of his real personality at school anyway!"

"Yeah, I wonder why?(!) Maybe because he was the old bloke stood at the front of the class, handing out homework assignments and giving us all 'T's, while we were sat copying his scrawl off the blackboard!" he hissed.

"Ron, what exactly is your issue with him? Harry told you all about his memories from the Pensieve - the Ministry's pardoned him on that evidence alone. Professor McGonagall's given him his job back. Honestly, he's like a different man now he's not being forced into a life of espionage by Dumbledore! I'm not saying he's all sunshine and daisies, but he's not the monster everyone seemed to think he was either. We have a lot in common, intellectually speaking. I guess that's what I find most interesting about him."

Faced with the ream of evidence of Snape's supposed reformation, Ron deflated slightly. He snorted.

"I heard the kids nicknamed him 'Swooping Evil' last year, back when he was Headmaster." He nudged Harry in the ribs conspiratorially, trying to encourage his friend to laugh along.

Harry managed a weak grin, while his eyes shot apologetically over in Hermione's direction. She gave him a nod of acceptance. It really didn't matter what Ron's opinion of Snape was, to be honest, or of her relationship with him. But she would try and keep things cordial between them, so long as Ron made an effort to be nice.

"Just as long as you're not... you know? As long as he's not making you..."

"'Making me'?! 'Making me' what, Ron?" Really, he was going to go too far in a minute.

"You know... like, gross stuff..." He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. Hermione let out a sudden burst of laughter.

"Ha! Oh Ron, we're all adults now - do stop being awkward about it. If you think it's gross to sleep with Professor Snape, then by all means, you're perfectly entitled not to! I however, am also entitled to make my own mind up... without interference from anyone else." She wasn't going to bait him by informing him of their recent physical romantic development, but nor would she allow him to continue to bludgeon her with his baseless opinions.

"I-..." That seemed to have done the trick - Ron was momentarily speechless. Seeing an opening, Harry suddenly piped up.

"So, did anyone catch the Quidditch the other day?"

Taking the hint, Hermione feigned ignorance - she knew it had been a big match between the Holyhead Harpies and somebody or other - and allowed Harry to explain in detail all the happenings of the match. Ron fumed silently at his friend's side for a bit, before getting irresistibly drawn into a discussion about a particularly controversial penalty where the Harpies' Keeper had been fouled by both the opposing Beaters and had ended up stuffed through one of the goal hoops, backwards and without her broom.

They had stayed in the Leaky for another three quarters of an hour or so before she had made her excuses about having to pop into Madam Malkin's before she closed, to pick up her new school robes. Now well over a year old, her previous ones were no longer the right size. She'd given them to Ginny as a spare set, as Ron's sister was a little slighter than she was, and a year younger. Severus had innocently suggested that she merely wear them open - possibly with nothing on underneath - and keep them for the bedroom, but Hermione had glared at him. He simply wasn't taking this very seriously, the fact that they had to appear professional in front of other people. She hoped for his sake that when term finally started, that he would snap back into Professor Mode, and be a paragon of dour sensibleness again. She had laughed though - she had been right: he was indeed a very funny man, when the circumstance called for it.

She'd popped into George's shop while she was in Diagon Alley, and Ron's brother had greeted her with a warm hug and told her to take whatever she wanted. Eyeing up a half-full barrel of 'Edible Dark Marks', she winced slightly. She wasn't sure what Severus would make of those if she brought a bag home. His own Mark seemed to have faded substantially since Voldemort's death, and she hoped for his sake that it would one day disappear completely, although she highly doubted it given its Dark nature, and the unerring durability of Protean Charms.

She always let him know in no uncertain terms that she loved that part of him just as much as any other, and would trail kisses down his arms to his fingertips, across the faint brand. She smiled at the Weasleys' Love Potions, still in pride of place in the middle of the shop; their sickly pink display comedically over the top. Still, there were a couple of young witches looking at them while Hermione was in there, and she thought back to her and Ginny, tittering over the bottles themselves, back in the days when such things had amused them. Back when she thought she would have needed a Love Potion to get a wizard interested in her, she mused.

Picking up a few bits from Slug and Jiggers apothecary, and browsing through Flourish and Blotts before she made her way home, Hermione pined briefly over a new edition of Hogwarts: A History. It had a beautiful binding edged with gold, and a moving picture on the front depicting the castle with owls swooping between the spires. Telling herself firmly that her existing copy was perfectly fine, despite several of the pages being patched up with Spellotape (probably due to misuse by Harry and Ron) and the binding starting to look rather tatty and fragile, she dragged herself away from the display. She thought about getting Severus a new copy of Magical Drafts and Potions as well, although he almost certainly had more copies than the shabby old one she'd spied in his quarters the other evening. Doubtless he had a more up to date version in his potions lab for reference as well.

Her shopping done, for once Hermione left the bookshop empty-handed and Apparated back to Hogwarts. An extra bed had been created for her in the seventh-year dorms in Gryffindor Tower, due to her joining the existing students who had used to be in the year below her. She was glad she would be sharing a room with Ginny Weasley - at least there would be a familiar face amongst the other girls. At the moment however, she was the dormitory's only occupant.

Just then, she heard a sliding, scraping noise outside, followed by a loud thump, and an equally loud curse. Going cautiously to the door, she opened it and looked down the staircase. Severus was in a heap at the bottom, tangled in his cloak, and muttering furiously to himself.

"Hi!" she said cheerily. He looked indignantly up at her.

"What... is this?!" He made a brisk, irritable gesture towards the staircase, which had transformed itself into a slide. Hermione carefully stepped out onto the smooth surface and surfed her way down unsteadily, stepping off at the bottom and bending down to him.

"Oh, the staircase?"

"Obviously, the staircase." He cocked an eyebrow at her in exasperation. "I hardly meant this enchanting threadbare rug I'm sat on, did I?"

He rose to his feet stiffly, brushing down his robes and puffing his chest out a bit.

"Am I the only one who reads Hogwarts: A History? Honestly!" She let out an incredulous laugh. "It's enchanted. Boys aren't trustworthy, you see - the Founders designed it to prevent them sneaking into the girls' dorms."

"I'm no mere boy!" He seemed mildly put out.

"No, I know. Take it up with Godric Gryffindor though, handsome." She stood on tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Snape's puffed-up demeanour deflated slightly at her touch.

"Right, well... I just came to see if you were back from London. It appears you are."

"Well-spotted! I got you that Bicorn horn you wanted, and a bottle of iguana blood. Slug and Jiggers were sold out of Exploding Fluid, I'm afraid..."

"You're an angel." Snape took her hand rather theatrically and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, making her giggle and blush attractively.

"I'll go and fetch them!" Reluctantly drawing her hand away, she turned and bounced lightly back up the staircase to the dormitory, which had reverted to its usual form. Snape stayed in the common room below, eyeing up the steps with suspicion. In mere moments, the door above was flung open again and Hermione skipped back down the stairs, jumping down the last two and landing in front of him with an over-enthusiastic bounce.

"Here you go!"

He took the jar and bottle from her carefully, stowing them away in an inside pocket of his cloak.

"How was your drink at the Cauldron?"

She knew he was being polite and had little to no interest in how Ron and Harry were doing, but she felt immensely proud of him for making the effort anyway. She'd try not to bore him with details.

"Oh, the boys are good, Harry seems to be enjoying his training at the Ministry. Ron too I guess, but he was a little out of sorts." Understatement perhaps, but never mind.

"Oh?" Snape tilted his head. "What's got Weasley's robes in a bunch?"

She debated how much to tell him.

"Oh you know... just Ron being Ron. I expect work's just stressing him out. And his family as well. I think George has been asking him to help out here and there at the joke shop, so he's been quite busy. And..."

"And...?" He wasn't fobbed off from the real issue for a moment.

"And... I think he's still struggling with the idea of you and me. I'm sure he's gotten over that crush Harry told me about, but he's not the best with change you know, and I think he finds it difficult to think of his friend dating someone they knew as a teacher. And a Death Eater." She cringed inwardly slightly, not wanting to offend him. Luckily, he knew her own feelings about his past, and cared little for the opinions of others.

"Ah. He thinks I'm some sort of evil cradle snatcher, I take it?" His lips twitched in perverse amusement. "Pity I can't deduct house points from him any longer, I'm sure I could have changed his mind about the situation after about two or three hundred..." His black eyes glinted maliciously in the afternoon light.

"Severus, be nice. I'm sure he'll get over it eventually - Harry has!" she added, in a tone that implied that if Harry Potter could come to terms with his best friend stepping out with their shadowy, older, frankly sinister professor, who had seemingly been both a murderer and their constant nemesis, as well as a man who had nurtured hidden feelings for his student's long-dead mother, then anyone could.

"I'm sure." he said, in a voice that heavily implied he was not at all sure, but couldn't care less either way. "He didn't try to get you drunk and take a pass at you then?"

"No," she sighed, "Harry interrupted before things got too confrontational. Ron just sort of sulked for a bit. Like I said, he'll get over it. Why did you want to know if I was back yet anyway?"

She moved over to a comfy burgundy two-seater sofa in the middle of the room and sat down, motioning Snape to join her.

"I was wondering if you wanted to pop into Hogsmeade this afternoon, before dinner. Or we could skip dining in the Great Hall altogether and eat at the Hog's Head? Or the Three Broomsticks?" Seeing Hermione's mild unease at the thought of having a meal in Aberforth Dumbledore's establishment, he threw her the second option. "Not Madam Puddifoot's though. You know I care about you very much Hermione, but I still have standards..."

"Oh don't worry, it's not my sort of place either," she reassured him, patting his leg affectionately. "We can't have you ruining your finely-honed air of Slytherin menace, can we? Professor Snape, taking tea from pink china with lacy napkins(!)" She gave a mock shudder, and poked him in the arm playfully.

"Quite."

If he was irritated at her gentle ribbing, he didn't show it. But then, he didn't show much of anything at all, most of the time, although in private he had become a lot better as she'd spent time with him. Whether that was due to his near-death experience, or his new-found ability to relax a bit more into everyday life, she couldn't say. Realising she hadn't given him an answer, she jumped up again.

"That'd be lovely. The Three Broomsticks? I haven't been there for a while, I hope Madam Rosmerta's alright? I think Harry gave evidence for her just after the Battle, after that business with Draco and the necklace? He made sure everyone knew she wasn't helping him of her own accord."

It felt very odd whenever she discussed anything about the Death Eater invasion of the school during their sixth year. Snape had obviously been in the thick of it; had killed Albus Dumbledore, albeit on the Headmaster's own orders, but nevertheless she was worried that it might prove painful for him to be reminded of what must be some of his most difficult memories from recent times. Severus however, had never shied away from talking about those events as and when the occasion arose, and his tone was usually one of somebody reading the following week's weather report from the Daily Prophet.

Unflappably neutral, he clearly held to the belief that he had done everything for a reason, and that reason had been a darned good one. She couldn't disagree. Hermione was glad that he hadn't had to go through a trial in front of the Ministry, and would be forever grateful to Harry for not putting the Potions master through that ordeal straight from his sickbed at St Mungo's. She suspected Snape would have rather not had his personal memories and motivations revealed to all and sundry at the Ministry, however she had told him it was for the greater good, and a modicum of embarrassment was a fair trade for a free life, unencumbered by rumours and suspicious glares. Although if Rita Skeeter had her way, people would still be looking at him like a murderer. She'd had it on good authority that the Animagus was planning a tell-all book about Severus, and given her previous hatchet jobs on other Hogwarts Headmasters, she was sure it wouldn't be flattering. Perhaps a little more blackmail would be required, in order to stifle Skeeter's creativity?