A/N: Hi everyone :) crazy weeks over here so I'm not updating as much as I'd like to... even though I'm ahead of what I'm posting, I think this is one of my favorite chapters and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing it! Let me know what you think! ;)

When Severus walked into the courtyard at 6pm sharp, his eyes widened with disbelief.

"Miss Granger, do you consider that to be an appropriate attire?" he asked, approaching the young woman in her green dress.

"Good evening, Sir. Why wouldn't it be?" Hermione asked, offended.

"This is no birthday party. We're trying to blend in and get the villagers to trust us, remember?" Snape remarked coldly, trying hard to repress the impulse of lowering down his gaze. He was counting of using his double agent skills to gather useful information, but he couldn't do that if his attention was scattered elsewhere.

"Well… I thought that looking older would help them respect me more." she explained, slightly embarrassed. She had also chosen to wear a little make up, though this time her hair was naturally curly, something that didn't go past him.

Snape shook his head with a snort of incredulity. "You're Potter's friend, Miss Granger. Everyone knows who you are. They will be fighting to talk to you for a while." he said, not without a fair amount of bitterness and evident contempt towards everyone's blind admiration for the golden boy.

"I'm getting a little tired of hearing that, quite frankly." Hermione pressed her lips with a frown. "I would like people to know me for me and my own merits, not Harry's."

Snape looked down at her, as if scrutinizing her face in search for a sign that she wasn't indeed complaining about her fame. He didn't find any, and though he didn't made any comments, Hermione could see the silent admiration in his eyes. "In that case, Miss Granger, I'd recommend you trust yourself enough to not resort to appearances for validation."

She didn't know if it was a critic or a compliment, and knowing him, it could perfectly be both. So she decided to clarify some more, just in case. "Well, as you can see I'm not prioritizing looks, since I wore sneakers today to walk there." she pointed out, raising one foot.

"We're not walking there." Snape announced with an enigmatic glance. "It's a long way and it would take too long."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised. Yes, it took a while to get to Hogsmeade walking, but both teachers and students were used to do it on the weekends… But then, she understood that he wasn't feeling well these days. Maybe he didn't want to exert himself, and of course, he wouldn't admit to such vulnerability. So she pretended to buy into his time saving excuse. "Right, of course. So we'll be apparating?"

"No." Snape said simply, without adding further explanation.

"What then?" Hermione asked perplexed, though it made sense that he wouldn't want to apparate either, since that was already intense enough on a healthy body.

"How do you feel about flying?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow.

Hermione's mouth went immediately dry. Oh dear Lord. "Hmm… how, exactly?" she inquired, trying to gain some time. She didn't want to look fearful in front of him, but it had been a really long time since she had ridden a broom, and she was pretty sure that he wasn't thinking about a hippogriff flight.

Maybe that's why he had pointed out that a dress wasn't the best outfit to wear… but how did he expect her to know that!?

To her astonishment, Snape made something resembling a smile. Even though it was taunting, it was the closest he had been of truly smiling at her, and her heart fluttered in response. Why did he seem so smug?

Then it hit her. She hadn't seen it with her own eyes, but Harry had told them during the Battle. Snape had learnt Voldemort's way to fly without any object or creature.

Severus waited patiently until she put the pieces together, and then offered her his hand.

"Is it safe?" Hermione hesitated. "Not that I don't trust you but… can you really carry someone along? I really don't mind walking, Sir… Maybe I can meet you there..."

"You really think after last night I would risk dropping you over the lake now?" he asked, and she was unable to tell if he was offended or teasing her.

"Right… okay." Hermione yielded at last, coming closer. "I… how should I..." she asked, getting suddenly nervous at the prospective of having to hold on to him.

He moved his hand between them, impatiently. She looked at it, then back at him, and finally, she took it, immediately feeling a tingly sensation climbing up her arm. We're just colleagues in an investigation, she reminded herself, at lack of a better word.

Without warning, Snape pulled from her hand until she was right in front of him, only a couple inches away. "You should close your eyes." he said, lowering his tone, and his deep velvety voice reverberated in his chest, so close to hers that she could almost feel the vibration. "And don't look down."

Hermione nodded anxiously, pretty certain that no part of her would be tempted to see the height that she was risking falling from. She felt Snape's arm surrounding her back, and his firm grip on her waist. His other hand cupped her nape. Hermione's breath accelerated, and she could only hope that he would interpret it as a sign of fear, and not of the overwhelming heat she was suddenly feeling in her entire body. She fought the urge to put her arms around his neck, though it would make her feel much safer. But it felt like crossing a red line, and she wasn't willing to make Severus reconsider taking her along. So her fingers clutched his robes as they had done to trick the infirmary wards, and with a strong impulse, they left the ground.

Whatever he was doing to cheat gravity, it was extending to her body, for she immediately stopped feeling the pull of the planet, to a point that she began fearing she would float away. But Snape's hands seemed determined to avoid it, firmly gripping her waist and neck to keep her in place as she felt the strong wind that gave away their speed. What would anyone think if they saw them arriving through the air, in a tight embrace like that? She didn't really care about that anymore, but what surprised her was to realize that he hadn't cared either.

They reached the ground much faster than she had expected, and the sudden weight of her body when coming in touch with gravity again made her dizzy. Granted, it was better than a broom or a thestral, but still, not her cup of tea.

"See? No drowning at the lake." Snape pointed out arrogantly.

Hermione finally opened her eyes, and raised her gaze to look at him with a surrender smile. His hands still remained in the same place, and for some reason as the seconds went by, he didn't move them.

She could feel her entire skin on fire, but what got her attention was that his eyes seemed to be on fire as well. She had repeated herself over and over that he would never see her like that, and yet… here he was, looking at her like that. Time seemed to slow down as if someone had placed a powerful retardant spell on them… or was it a stasis charm? Was she even breathing anymore…? Was he?

She felt his hand slowly descending along her neck, his thumb sliding down her jaw… It was torture. Her lips parted in anticipation to the uncontrollable urge threatening to overpower her will.

"Don't ever do that again." Snape murmured, his black eyes still piercing hers with a hint of desperation.

How had he known? Hermione wondered, extremely embarrassed. Was her intention so obvious? Of course it was. He could probably hear her racing heart from such short distance. But she had made him an oath, when they returned from the Death Eater's attack at his house. And he was reminding her of that oath, so she would never cross that line again...

"Don't you ever… drown at the lake, or try to die on me like that again." Snape added, and Hermione's heart suddenly stopped. He wasn't talking about the attempted kiss. After the instant relief, she processed what he had just said, and then she was able to decipher his gaze. He was terrified… of losing her?

"I won't." Hermione whisper, almost inaudibly.

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, nodded and then let go of her. As with the other times, the moment his hands left her body she felt a sharp pain in her chest, and the urge to emit a moan of complaint. But she fought it, and rushed to follow him as he already began walking with his usual long strides towards the village of Hogsmeade.

"Do those mermaid paintings gave you any clues as to where to start looking?" he asked casually, as if their previous intense, intimate moment had never happened.

"Er… no, they didn't." Hermione responded, still a bit dazzled. "But, since we don't know when it happened, I was thinking maybe we should ask the oldest person in town… as they will be the most likely to have heard about old stories, right?"

"And who would this person be?" Snape asked, still walking forward without looking at her.

"I believe it's Aberforth Dumbledore, Sir."

Snape stopped right on his tracks and turned towards her with disbelief. "You expect me to pay a visit to the brother of the man I murdered?" he said slowly.

"He… I'm sure he knows the full story by now" Hermione justified her suggestion, though she felt really small and stupid under his dark scrutiny. "And also… it is more likely that we get a chance to have a private conversation at the Hog's Head than at the Three Broomsticks..."

Snape grunted, annoyed. If he had known the girl was planning on visiting Aberforth he probably wouldn't have agreed to come in the first place. But now they were here, and she had a point.

So, against his better judgment, he pointed his steps in that direction.

The atmosphere at Hog's Head was exactly as Hermione remembered. There was a thin but visible layer of dust on the floor, with some stains of mud under the tables and near the bar. The surface of the counter and tables was clean, but the wood was carved with sharp marks of shattered glass or knives. There were even some burns suggesting the use of spells, and Hermione guessed the pub had been the scenario for more than one wizard quarrel.

Thankfully, the place was pretty quiet at the time, with only a group of three men playing cards in the corner, and a woman with long black hair and a very pale, almost greenish face that Hermione couldn't help to stare at, not being entirely sure if she was human or part banshee.

"Delightful." Snape murmured behind her back, wrinkling his hooked nose when they breathed in the subtle but unmistakable smell of goats.

She threw him a quick, apologetic smile. "You can wait for me at that table by the window. I'll see if Aberforth is here." she offered, and Snape obeyed silently.

Truth was, he had already spent much more time here that he would have wanted to. During his younger years at Hogwarts, there was a clear unspoken division of territories among the students. The Three Broomsticks was the place to go if you were popular; quidditch players, prefects, and just any average extroverted students were welcomed there. The girls, and guys who wanted to get them, would sometimes choose Madame Puddifoot's Tea room instead, for some privacy and a conducive atmosphere. Of course, he hadn't set foot in that place, not even once.

The outcasts, the weirdos and those with darker inclinations, would gather at Hog's Head. And apparently, this status quo also applied to the rest of magical society, given that the pub was always a meeting point for all sorts of questionable characters. There, the first Death Eaters recruitments had taken place, when they weren't yet barely anything more than a group of ambitious students wanting to secure a powerful future.

However, as a spy, Snape had been forced to return when things got serious, during the First magical war, since the pub was the perfect spot for eavesdropping into very interesting conversations without being noticed. That's how he had found out about the Chosen one prophecy. So one could see why being back here was not exactly a pleasant stroll down memory lane.

He watched as Hermione approached the old hag at the bar.

"Good evening, madam." She politely greeted the woman, who looked at her as if she was deranged. Hermione guessed the witch had probably not been addressed with such respect in a long time, if ever.

"What can I get you?" the hag responded with a scratchy voice. The scarce dull gray hair left on her head was disheveled and gave her the appearance of having been electrocuted recently. Her eyes were also gray, with small red veins all over the white, as if tiny spider legs. To match the whole, she had a set of big, gray teeth with spaces in between where other, now fallen teeth, belonged.

"I was actually hoping to see Aberforth, if he's around." Hermione explained with her best warm smile.

"Why? Who are you?" the old woman asked, narrowing her eyes with sudden suspicion, since Hermione clearly didn't fit the profile of their usual clients.

"Just a friend hoping to catch up." Hermione reassured her with an innocent face.

"He's out now." the hag said, shaking her head.

"Could I wait for him here until he returns?" Hermione asked with a hopeful tone.

"If you order something." the witch replied with a shrug.

"Sure, yes… two butterbeers, please." she said, but then, on second thought, she realized that Snape wouldn't likely fancy a cold drink given his weakened state. And her own stomach was still a bit queasy after messing around with gravity. "Actually, do you have anything more restorative?"

The hag gave her that look again, as if she was seeing a fish strolling around outside the water. "Mulled wine?" she suggested at last.

"That would be perfect, thank you!" Hermione nodded with a smile, as the woman poured two cups and roughly handed them to her.

She walked over to the table that Snape had chosen, where he was waiting for her with an interrogative look in his face.

"What is this?" he asked, upon noticing the two glasses of wine.

"Aberforth is not here right now, but we can wait for him. She said to order something." Hermione explained, pointing her head towards the bar as she sat on the empty chair next to him.

"And you ordered alcohol?" Snape's voice lowered with disapproval.

"It was the first thing that came to my mind. This isn't the kind of place where you'd order a milkshake, is it?" Hermione tilted her head, also lowering her tone. "Also, I thought..." she bit her tongue quickly, before saying something she would regret.

Once again, Severus didn't need her to finish her sentence to know what she was thinking. He was well aware that she had seen him inebriated, that night after the Great Hall celebration. So why wouldn't she assume that he enjoyed a drink every now and then?

"We need to keep our minds sharp, Miss Granger." he pointed out calmly. "It is them who we want spilling their secrets, not us."

Hermione nodded with her eyes fixed on the table, and he could see from her face that she didn't consider it such a big deal. It was one single glass, after all. If a former schoolgirl could take it, why wouldn't he, right? He felt a nasty sting to his pride and with a stupid, honest rapture, he revealed: "My father was a drunk. I learned from an early age the consequences of giving into that tempting call. I have no intention of perpetuating the family legacy."

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, almost unable to believe that he had just willingly shared something so private. Snape's face looked unbothered, but she knew him enough to understand what a huge step in their trust that was.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know." she said, sympathetically.

"Obviously." Snape replied with a meaningful look.

"I can take them back." she offered nervously, eager to repair her error. "I'll tell her I made a mistake, I'm sure I can order some tea, they must have tea, or maybe some coffee, right?"

"Wait." Snape grabbed her arm as she was already getting up from the chair. "You need to relax." he said, gesturing her to sit back.

Again, her eyes widened, this time with so much perplexity that her face became almost comical. "Me?" she asked, nevertheless obeying his instruction. Was Severus Snape telling her to relax? Was that word even in his vocabulary?

"I am not referring to getting drunk and losing all control over yourself as a disgusting teenager in a quidditch party." he clarified promptly, reading her expression with accuracy, as his hand lingered for a second before letting go of her arm. "But if you expect people to open up to us, you need to appear calm and confident. All this hesitation and nervousness only makes you look suspicious."

"Right." Hermione nodded, slightly embarrassed. She took a long sip of wine and felt the comforting, rich taste down her throat, immediately warming up her chest. She let out a sigh, ran her hands through her hair to loosen it and laid her back on the chair. "Is that better?" she inquired, her tone giving away that she was anxious to get a confirmation.

Snape rolled his eyes with a snort.

"Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Hermione blew, frustrated.

"Can't say that I'm not." he replied in a velvety tone, the corners of his mouth slightly curving, hinting a smile.

A bolt of electricity went from her head to her toes. Was she just seeing what she wanted to see… or was he truly teasing her? She needed to change the subject, or else, she would lose her train of thought pretty badly.

"So… how did you cope with your father?" she asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table to get closer.

Snape's attempt of a smile vanished instantly, and was quickly replaced by an interrogative, almost offended look. "I don't think that's relevant." he remarked harshly, his posture stiffening as he threw her a warning look, questioning how on earth had she thought that question to be appropriate.

"Sir… if you expect people to open up to us, you need to appear accessible. Asking personal questions, and being willing to offer personal responses in return, is how you display empathy." Hermione said quietly, fighting as hard as she could to conceal the satisfied smug grin of using his own arguments against him.

To her surprise, Snape's eyes glowed with humour and even a hint of admiration towards her skillful way of turning the tables.

"Very well…" he conceded elegantly, finally taking the wine glass to his lips to gather his courage.

Hermione leaned back, eager to listen to his answer, still unable to believe it had worked.

"The truth is, I wasn't really forced to cope with him directly. His main target was my mother, of course." he said, bitterly, his eyes looking without seeing at the far wall in front of him. "He envied her…. Resented her for being able to use magic. He was a muggle." Snape clarified, though he was pretty sure that she knew that much from Potter's reveal of who the Half-blood prince was. "So whenever he came home after the pub, he would start a fight with her, aiming to prove he didn't need magical abilities to still have the upper hand."

"Didn't she… use her wand to defend herself?" Hermione asked in a whisper, her eyes full of concern.

"No." Snape said simply, darkness filling his gaze as he recalled those moments. "She was weak." he added, and though it shocked Hermione to hear him speak so harshly about his abused mother, a part of her understood that he truly resented this woman who would have been able to stop it, and yet, hadn't.

"But… you had magic too." Hermione pointed out cautiously. "Did you ever try to…?"

"I did. Turned out it was worse. She would be yelling and insulting him, and yet, when I tried to intervene and make them stop, she would defend him and turn against me. She would send me to my room and tell me to stop bothering them."

Hermione opened her mouth, horrified. It was impossible for her to imagine herself in that situation, feeling that your own mother would still take the side of her abuser over yours.

"It was the best for me." he continued, his pride unwilling to take her pity. "After a few attempts, I realized if it was none of my business, I didn't have to care."

Snape took another long sip of wine, and she wondered if he truly believed his own poor attempt at protecting himself.

"So what did you do?" Hermione asked, after a few seconds of silence.

"I read." Snape revealed, throwing her an eloquent glance. "My mother had a big collection of books, both muggle and magical. I would get lost in their pages and completely forget where I was, or the yelling downstairs. If the weather allowed, I would take the books by the river and read until the dusk darkness made it impossible to continue. I could be gone for hours and they wouldn't notice, so that gave me a lot of freedom."

His last sentence pierced her heart, but she tried to focus on the positive aspect. "What was your favorite book?" she asked with a timid smile.

Snape pondered her question for a while. "I could not pick one. I'm sure it's not the answer you're hoping to hear, but truth is, each one of those books was like a different friend… with different personalities and flaws, but nevertheless important to you equally. I can only assume." he added sarcastically at the end.

"It's a perfect answer. I completely understand that. I couldn't pick just one either." Hermione nodded sympathetically.

He looked deeply into her eyes, secretly shocked at himself for having just shared so much of his most intimate world with her. What sort of spell had come over him? Had it something to do with how beautiful she looked in that green dress, even in the disgusting atmosphere of the pub? Or was it the glow of true understanding in her eyes beckoning his soul to come into the light? Maybe he should have been more wary of siren songs inviting him to spill his deepest secrets… And yet, it felt right. He didn't feel exposed. He felt safe. But then, he noticed her eyes were starting to tear up. "What?" he asked, suddenly defensive. The line between sympathy and pity was too thin for his taste.

"I was just realizing… those books you loved so much, they too were your family legacy. And the Death Eaters blew up your library… because of me."

"It's alright." he quickly reassured her, hoping to put an end to her emotional outburst before it got too uncomfortable. "I could recite them cover to cover anyway."

"But still..."

"Forget it." he didn't intend to sound so harsh, but he did. Hermione bit her lip and she lowered her eyes, visibly ashamed. Damn it. Why had the pleasant moment flown by so rapidly? "Speaking of family heirlooms though… What truly happened to your bracelet?" he changed the subject, hoping the awkwardness would pass just as quickly.

Hermione's cheeks blushed, and she quickly took another sip of wine, buying herself some time before throwing him an apologetic look and nervous smile. "It did fall into the lake… but only because I loosened the clasp when we got on the hippogriff."

"You intended it to fall?" Snape asked, confused.

"I didn't want to lie to you." she confessed, and his heart took a double leap inside his chest with her simple statement, as all his doubts and insecurities started melting away like snow on a sunny spring morning. "I knew you would ask why I wanted the gillyweed and…"

"And you were afraid you would get caught." he pointed out with a sneering tone.

She pressed her lips with a guilty smile.

"What about the scar?" Snape asked, his eyes involuntarily lowering down to her left arm on the table. She was wearing a thin jacket over the green dress, just enough to cover her skin, though he could get a glimpse of the darker stain underneath it.

"I can always charm another trinket." she shrugged with a mischievous smile, echoing his words.

"And Fleur's grandmother veela?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, about that…" Hermione cleared her throat, amused. "Truth is… Fleur couldn't stand her. She told me that her mother had forced her to keep the moonstone as a memory, but all she remembered was her grumpy grandmother complaining about interbreeding with humans and the deterioration of veela purity… Apparently she was an insufferable bigot. So Fleur was happy to have an excuse to hand it over, and I'm sure she will be delighted to know it's probably on the Giant Squid's black belly by now. It's a poetic irony, isn't it?"

Snape covered his face with his hands, and after a second, she heard a low, strange, vibrating sound reverberating in his chest, and shaking his shoulders.

With extreme astonishment, she realized he was laughing.

Not a taunting smile, not a sarcastic snort. A genuine, amused laugh.

Her heart exploded inside her chest, and she began laughing too, feeling a wave of pure joy coursing through her entire body that could have lift her feet from the ground.

Upon hearing it, Snape uncovered his face, and looked at her amazed, both at the purity of the sound, and at the fact that she had managed to make him laugh. As much as he tried, he honestly couldn't remember when was the last time he had laughed like this… maybe he never had. There wasn't a drop of darkness staining his emotion at the moment. It was only amusement at the absurd story Hermione had intelligently crafted just to avoid his Legilimens skills, and how the real story was just as absurd as the fake one. But there was something else. The release of a burden, the first puff of fresh air for his famished heart, that rejoiced in her presence, her honesty, her wits and her caring. His own laugh had unexpectedly arrived and was now shaking the foundations of his entire being like an earthquake…

But it was a reverse earthquake. Instead of crumbling everything down into chaos, it was shaking the chaos into restored beauty.