It had been a couple hours since the sun had set, but still Severus was strolling along the shore of the Black Lake, enjoying the silence, barely disturbed by the soft noise of the small waves overlapping. The crickets and the occasional owl completed the soundscape, but there were no human sounds that reminded him of the crowd that inhabited the castle. He had always enjoyed getting to Hogwarts a few days before the students arrived, experiencing the calmness that the school offered in its privileged place among the Scottish mountains. Though it wasn't nearly as crowded now as it was during the year, there still were too many people inside, in his opinion.

He hadn't spent so much time outdoors since a long time ago, but for some reason, this night he didn't seem to be feeling particularly cold. Or maybe he was cold, but he wasn't paying attention, for his thoughts were drifting over and over again to Potter's birthday party. How on earth had the boy even considered that he might want to attend the celebration? He tried to picture himself having dinner among the thousand Weasleys and he practically choke on his own breath. If there was something he hated more than the fact that he had come back to life against his will, it was the fact that he had come back into a world where Harry Potter knew his deepest secrets and apparently, was feeling somehow compelled to acknowledge them. Getting rid as soon as possible of the son of his nemesis was only one of the reasons why he wanted to find the answers to reverse his resurrection so badly. The absolute rest of the world and the entirety of the people in it, were the remaining reason of course.

Except for the tiny, stupid part of his heart concerning Hermione Granger and her absurd considerations about him. What would she be doing now? Would she be telling her friends all about their experimental potion, despite the fact that McGonagall had explicitly forbid them to say a word to another soul? Probably, given that the golden trio apparently couldn't keep a secret from each other even if their life depended on it. Though, in this case, it would be him of course, facing the consequences if word got out that they were in possession of an illegal time-turner. Maybe Miss Granger would have enough common sense to keep that sensitive information to herself… Maybe she hadn't had the time to share it anyway because she was too busy snogging Weasley…

His stomach protested unexpectedly loud when he involuntarily pictured that image, and a wave of burning heat rushed over his veins. He stopped right on his tracks. What had come over him? How come that he had been feeling cold and weak and sore for weeks and yet every time he was close to the young woman, or even thinking about her, heat seemed to magically return to his bones?

A dark, terrifying possibility crawled its way to his mind. What if she had given him a love filter when he found him unconscious? A potion so powerful that would create a dependency on her, that would make him feel sick unless he was near her? That would be a perfectly acceptable explanation for his deranged behavior… Except that he immediately began to see the flaws in his reasoning.

First and foremost, there was no love potion in the world that could stop or reverse death.

But even if it existed… he had dealt with enough intoxicated students to recognize the effects of an unwanted love filter being involuntarily fed to someone. It caused obsession, idealization and desperation. And if he was being honest with himself, neither of those applied to his case, as much as he would like to blame all his feelings on an external source. He wasn't obsessed. His thoughts were increasingly taking up a life of their own, true… but he still was able to keep a cold mind most of the time, and remind himself of his only true goal. About idealization, it wasn't even worth considering, since he had never lost sight of how annoyed Miss Granger made him feel, even though he was being forced to admit her great qualities the more time he spent on her company. And desperation was something he was far from feeling… He knew he could be perfectly fine on his own. He had just realized he simply felt better when she was around, for whatever absurd reason.

In fact, if he was truly honest with himself… the feelings he had been carrying around his entire life, towards his childhood friend, fit into those adjectives much more closely. He had been obsessed, feeling that Lily literally held the power over his life in her hands, suffering from tremendous amounts of anxiety every time she talked or laughed with another person that wasn't him. Which happened awfully often, due to her open and social nature, so distant from his introverted nature. She had always encouraged him to be more talkative, more relaxed, to engage with other people. He was always on edge when she was around, struggling hard to give her the impression of what he thought she expected to see. And when he had made the fatal mistake of insulting her in public, he had thought he was going to die. He had threatened to sleep on the floor beside Gryffindor's portrait until she agreed to listen to his apology, and when she didn't accept it, he had thought he would go mad. He couldn't picture his life without her. He couldn't stand to see her even looking at that arrogant bully Potter, one that would never see at her like he did… As the perfect being she was. Or at least, that's what he thought at the moment. Now, looking at it from a distance, he suddenly realized how concerning it was, the fact that the only flaw he had ever found in Lily was that she hadn't chosen him. He had no doubt that his feelings for her were true, of course. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to survive all those years, just feeding on his memories of her, and on the strength his love for her provided him… But there was this terrifying inner voice whispering into his ear that maybe, just maybe, his infatuation had been much more a construct of his lonely teenager self than real, pure love. He couldn't afford listening to that voice. He couldn't afford questioning the only certainty he had had in his entire life. If he did, then there would be nothing, neither in this life or the next, to provide him some comfort, some sense of purpose… But the inner voice begged to differ, even if almost inaudibly, reminding him of the thrill he had felt three nights ago, creating an impossible potion that could change many lives, by the side of someone who apparently, didn't need him to be anything else than who he already was to recognize his good qualities. For a second of weakness, he allowed himself to wish Hermione was walking beside him tonight again, speaking those kind words about him that he wouldn't dare believe, but that he had loved listening nevertheless.

So it took him a moment to believe his eyes when he spotted her dark silhouette crossing the grounds towards the castle, mumbling unfinished sentences and stepping in an angry manner. Was it possible that she had materialized in front of him the second he thought he wished she was there…?

"Back so soon?" Snape's deep voice broke the nocturnal silence.

"God!" Hermione gasped, almost losing her balance. "You scared me! What are you doing there, lurking in the dark?"

Severus walked slowly towards her, trying to discern her features in the dim light that reached them from the castle.

"I could ask you the same question. Weren't you supposed to spend the entire weekend at the Burrow?"

"Change of plans." Hermione said, turning her face away as she quickly tried to dry her tears.

However, Snape was too perceptive not to notice.

"Did something happen?" he inquired, and though his tone suggested that he couldn't care less, truth was he was feeling suddenly alert and protective.

Hermione looked at him, trying to decide if it was safe to vent. She didn't feel very inclined to share anything personal that would probably be used against her the moment he had the chance. But, on the other hand, something deep inside told her that Snape would understand her frustration better than anyone. Of course, she wasn't considering telling the Professor of their argument about him… But in all honesty, that part hadn't even been the one to truly bother her. She knew Ron had just snapped like that because she had poured salt on his recent wound. She wasn't particularly proud of her mean reaction either, but there had been something Ron had said before that, that was replaying over and over inside her head. "Apparently, they didn't consider it thoroughly when they decided to invite the insufferable know-it-all who doesn't know how to relax." she said at last, darkly.

Much to his surprise, though he had been the one to coin that nickname, it bothered him greatly to hear her saying the words. "Did they say that?" he inquired slowly.

"They didn't need to. Clearly we live in different worlds, and my insatiable, annoying mind doesn't fit in theirs. I guess I'm just not the carefree party type that I should be." she stated with a bitter shrug.

"And yet, I'd dare to guess they found that very convenient when they were in need of a functional brain to get their respective asses out of trouble." Snape commented with a snarky tone.

Whether it was due to the unexpected, indirect compliment or to the overall emotion, Hermione broke down crying.

Severus's posture stiffened, suddenly uncomfortable. He hadn't expect her to go in full emotional mode like that, otherwise he would have bit his tongue. He didn't know how to deal with that sort of outburst, even if in this case, and just for once, he wished he did.

"It's just… I was the one to keep it together that night, you know?" she said in between sharp sobs. "When Fred died right in front of us. Ron lost it, of course. Harry was in shock too. They wanted to just go kill Death Eaters, get revenge! I was the one… I was the one to stop them. To think coldly and tell them that they couldn't do that, that we needed to find the damn snake, that we had to leave Fred… Fred's corpse, behind! Maybe that makes me a terrible, cold person, but if I had relaxed then… we would all be dead!" she yelled, her voice reaching a high pitch of anguish. She seemed to be talking to herself more than to him, who silently observed her, picturing the scene she was describing.

He felt a wave of cold wrath taking over his entire body.

"Enough." He said hoarsely. Without saying another word, he grabbed her hand and began dragging her towards the castle.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" Hermione protested, hysterical.

"You're coming with me, right now." he ordered her, without slowing down, Hermione almost tripping on her heels on the steep slope up.

"I don't want to! Let go of me! I'm not in the mood for a lecture now, or for another of your competitions on who has had the worst life. You win, alright? I shouldn't complain! Just let me go!" Hermione insisted, uselessly trying to release her hand from his iron grip.

"Am I hurting you?" he turned around, exasperated, raising her wrist to the level of her eyes. Hermione shook her head reluctantly. "Then do as I say!" Snape ordered her. Now that they were closer to the entrance torches, she was able to see that his face was livid, his gaze terrifyingly commanding.

She threw him a furious glance, but stopped resisting, resigning herself to obey his demand.

Snape exhaled through his nose with tired resignation, and he went straight to the stairs, climbing several floors without even stopping to catch his breath. Hermione followed him silently, the sound of her heels reverberating on the empty dark hallways.

After a while, she realized where they were going, and she began fearing the worst. Was she about to find out that her crazy experimental idea had ended Miss Silvermoon's life, so she would know what true misery looked like? She didn't want to see it. She didn't want to know. She began regretting having gone back to the castle that night, instead of apparating back to her parent's empty house in England, or some other place where she could be alone.

They entered the empty infirmary, and she was surprised to see no light in Madame Pomfrey's office, which could only mean…

Snape walked towards an empty bed, still holding her hand. She felt it traversing some sort of invisible layer of air, and then she felt a strong, solid wall that her body was unable to go through. Snape turned around to look at her, and he narrowed his eyes, pondering.

Then, without further notice, he took a step towards her and placed an arm around her waist, pressing her against his body even closer than they had been while using the time-turner.

Hermione was caught completely off guard, and her hands clutched his soft robes without thinking. Her face was pressed against his chest, and she couldn't help to inhale his scent once more, as her head began to spin dizzily. Without letting go of her, he took a step back, and this time she could feel the magical wards allowing her through.

"Don't let go" Snape whispered into her ear, his voice suddenly velvety sending a chill down her spine.

Hermione realized the only reason why the wards against students had allowed her presence near the bed was the fact that she was so closely intertwined with him. She guessed that, in consequence, the only reason Snape was holding her was to prevent them from expelling her violently. And yet, the feeling of his big hand on her lower back was burning as if someone had lit her on fire.

She turned her head to look at the bed, and to her surprise, she noticed Miss Silvermoon was very much alive. Though she had been warned several times about the severity of her condition, Hermione felt her stomach shrinking when she saw the girl's deformed face, all her skin looking like it had been burnt and melted. However, she was breathing steadily, apparently asleep. Hermione looked at Snape, puzzled as to why he had led her there in the middle of the night. The Potions master pointed his head towards Miss Silvermoon's face, and, upon closer examination, Hermione realized that her eyes were moving behind her close eyelids, her lips twitching slightly in her sleep. She looked back at him, wondering if her guess was right. Snape moved his lips without making a single sound, but she was able to read the words: "She is dreaming." That's what she had thought, but then she realized the implications. If Selina was dreaming, that meant that her sleep hadn't been induced by Dreamless Sleep potion. Which meant, her pain level had lowered so significantly that she had been able to fall asleep on her own. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, while her other hand gripped Snape's robes tightly.

The man moved away from the bed, and she felt their bodies crossing the invisible wards once again, losing sight of the patient in the now empty bed.

He then let go of her waist, though his hand found hers on the way down, and he held it again, guiding her towards the entrance.

Hermione was still too amazed at what she had just witnessed to notice that his touch was no longer due to a practical reason. He led her towards the empty classroom where they had been waiting three nights ago. When they were inside, he finally spoke. "That" he said, staring very seriously into her eyes "was the result of your insatiable, mesmerizing mind."

Hermione's attention focused back on him completely. Only then she realized he was still holding her hand, and his thumb was absently stroking her knuckles. "That" he continued, his exquisite voice lulling her heart into a deep trance "was the result of you not being able to relax, or take a no for an answer until you had been able to help her."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears again, though this time they were a completely different kind. "Thank you, Sir. For showing me this right now..." she murmured, slowly shaking her head, finding it so amazing, that he had known exactly how to comfort her. "I know there's a good side to it, of course. It's just… some times, I feel that, if even the people who love me can't stand me, doesn't that mean that…?"

"Maybe they don't love you well." Snape couldn't help himself.

She looked at him with perplexity, unsure if she had heard right. It was strange enough to hear the word "love" coming from Severus Snape's lips and not being used in a sneering remark towards hormonal students… But hearing him speak about the right way to love someone was utterly unbelievable.

"Sir?" she asked, baffled.

"Has it occurred to you… that maybe you're not the problem?" he said very slowly, his low baritone voice almost a whisper.

Hermione's heart froze inside her chest when she recognized the words. He had never mentioned that conversation again, except to warn her against pitying him the other night… She had thought he considered it corny nonsense. But here he was, repeating her own question back at her, with a meaningful look in his profound eyes that spoke a thousand words. She was unable to say anything, practically unable to breathe, in fear she would break the spell and Snape would return to his normal, harsh and cold state, remembering how much he despised her. But, of all the things she was seeing in his gaze, despise was definitely not one of them.

His hand finally let go of hers, and she fought the urge to squeeze his fingers asking them to stay. He was probably coming back to his senses already. However, she watched astonished how he raised it to grab a long strand of her straight hair.

"Maybe you're putting too much effort trying to be who they want you to be." he said, raising the hair to her eyes with a significant tone. "Instead of using that energy developing who you truly are." he said, turning the strand in between his fingers to form a curl similar to the ones that formed naturally on her hair when she hadn't spent hours struggling to straighten it.

With a sharp inhalation, he let go of it and took a step backwards. "You have a lot of potential, Miss Granger." he said, in a much more distant tone. "As you can see, your idea for the potion was incredibly successful. It would be a shame to see your attention wasted on petty confrontations with children." he remarked with contempt, and then he turned around to open the door. "You should return to your dormitory, it's late. Goodnight." he said, and without looking at her again, he disappeared down the hall.

A/N: Hi all and thanks again for sticking with this story! I hope you liked this chapter, the part about Lily was tricky to write because unlike other folks, I do think that Severus loved her and wasn't merely obsessed in a toxic way... but reading between the lines in the books, one can see how his feelings weren't entirely healthy either. He is a complicated character for sure, so I hope I'm doing him justice and exploring this new bond he's forming in a realistic and interesting way... Can't wait to see what you think! ;)