A/N: Yes, yes, I'm alive! I was just…hibernating inside a secret cave somewhere, I guess. But I think I'll make it up to you all by the means of this chapter! :) Also, THANKS A LOT FOR YOUR CONSTANT SUPPORT AND MESSAGES! You guys really motivated me to find time and update.

Also, here's a very quick recap of the last chapter, as it's been ages since I have updated. Recap: After a terrible night at the Malfoy Manor on being summoned, Severus brings Hermione back to Hogwarts. They have a meaningful conversation in Severus' quarter, and share some deep secrets with each other. On the other hand, there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up where Hermione isn't going. And the trio has to execute their plan with Slughorn.

A brief reminder on the trio's plan with Slughorn: Dumbledore has asked Harry to acquire a memory from Slughorn (yes, same as he had in the canon). So Harry takes Hermione and Ron's help for the same. Hermione comes up with a spell in the Half-blood Prince's book, a variant of the Imperius Curse. They plan to execute this on the 31st of October, the day when they had an extra practice lesson of Potions to give them a reason to corner Slughorn, in the name of asking for help with the potion Hermione had brewed.

All this will become clearer in this chapter, just read on! :)

Enjoy!

Note: This chapter picks up exactly from where we had left off in the last chapter.

Chapter 34: Hogsmeade

As a child, Halloween had always fascinated Hermione, long before she had known what exactly about that bizarrely mysterious day drew her. Perhaps it was a latent realisation of her true identity. Though a seven-year-old Hermione Granger hadn't known that the children roaming about dressed as vampires and witches in the neighbourhood had such a strong significance to reality, she felt a connect more than she did to those disguised people on any other day. She had taken it as a mere childhood fantasy; obviously, who would have imagined that she would celebrate the rest of her Halloweens in a magical castle, feasting amidst ghosts and poltergeists.

The Great Hall was decorated with pumpkins floating by the ceiling instead of candles, spelled to keep changing expressions from grinning to grimacing to smirking. Their glow, too, kept flickering as their expressions switched. On each House table, a huge pumpkin was placed, filled with candies. Each time somebody grabbed a handful of treats, other kind of candies appeared in exchange. The First years were especially in awe of the never-ending supply of treats—and so was Ron. When he went on to snatch a handful of chocolate frogs, Ginny slapped his hand away and grabbed the lot herself with a smirk. Ron glowered at his sister before snatching the newly appeared lot of lemon drops.

Harry, who now sat with a stain on his robe from when he had not-quite-accidentally spilled some potatoes, leaned towards Hermione. "When?"

Hermione glanced at the Head Table. She was trying to stealthily watch Professor Slughorn at the Head Table. Usually, dinner ended in about forty minutes or so, but feasts continued for far longer. "In a while."

After some time when Professor Dumbledore left the Great Hall after wishing them a Happy Halloween again, Ron nudged her. "Go now, go now!" he whispered.

"Hush, Ron," Hermione frowned. "I'm not going to approach him at the Head Table. Let him come down."

The Feast was finally getting over and the dishes were disappearing from the tables, but the teachers were still conversing blithely at the Head Table. Although the plan wasn't as dangerous as their previous misadventures, Hermione was nervous. She feared to be caught doing the dark spell, or what if she did some actual damage to Professor Slughorn?

"He's leaving, he's leaving!" Ron elbowed her.

She looked back to find the Professor walking out along with Professor Flitwick. She watched them leaving the Great Hall, meanwhile worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

"Go!" Ron insisted.

"Keep the corridor empty," she said to him distractedly and manoeuvred her Chair to follow the two men out.

She left the Great Hall through the double doors and entered the corridor. Students were slowly starting to come out and spill into the said corridor. Dodging the crowds, Hermione went after the two Professors. She followed them to the conjoined corridor but stopped before they could spot her. She didn't want to approach the man in the presence of another teacher. She waited at a distance, hidden in an alcove, while the two chatted standing by the staircase.

Keeping her eyes on the Professors, Hermione groped in her satchel. She pulled out a small vial of Felix Felicis that she had been rewarded with in her Potions class for her impeccable brewing of the Draught of Living Death (with the help of the Half-blood Prince's book). She had been saving the vial for the day. Hermione uncorked it, took a deep breath, and tilted her head back. She only let one single drop of the precious concoction fall on her tongue. She waited to feel any physical effects, but it was rather anti-climatic. Carefully, she capped the vial and kept it inside her satchel again.

Then, she waited patiently.

UUUUUUU

Though she had never consumed alcohol, she made an educated guess that the thrill that she was feeling as a by-product of having used the dark spell on Professor Slughorn was not too different from what people experienced after downing a bottle of alcohol.

Hermione felt light, but energetic. The blood in her veins felt warm with power that still rushed through her. The sense was more intense than it had been the last time when she had experimented the spell on Harry. Though she had felt drained holding the Professor to her spell, the energy that flowed through her almost immediately after was intoxicating.

But the goosebumps on her arms and a slight coldness in the pit of her stomach were signs that this newfound energy wasn't conducive to her. Hermione could now understand why exactly people became addicted to using dark magic. No wonder the frequent use of such magic had turned people like Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange truly deranged.

Harry tossed the unbreakable vial of the Professor's memory in the air and caught it with ease in his other fist, like a snitch. "That was smooth, wasn't it? Dumbledore had made it sound so difficult."

"It would have been more difficult had Slughorn not been so naive," said Ron, as they made their way back from the dungeons.

"I hope he doesn't recall anything," Hermione mumbled.

"He won't," Harry confirmed. "I didn't when you had done that spell on me."

When they turned to go to the Gryffindor Tower, Ron asked, "You aren't giving this to Dumbledore?"

"I'll give it to him in our next private lesson," Harry said. "I don't know his password, anyway."

"Keep the vial safe, Harry," Hermione said. "If the Headmaster wanted it so much, it must be something very important."

"What do you think Slughorn might have that Dumbledore was so desperate to get?" Ron asked.

"He had taught Voldemort," Harry told them, stuffing the vial in his pocket. "I'll let you both know what it was once I get to watch it."

"Blimey, wish we had a pensieve!" Ron huffed.

"Anyway. Thanks, you two," Harry said with a sheepish but genuine smile.

Ron slapped his back with a grin. "Mention not, Mate. Just buy me lunch tomorrow. And perhaps Lavender, too."

"Buy you Lavender?" Harry snorted at Ron's wording.

"What? No!" Ron's face turned red as he tried to splutter his innocence to Hermione.

She, in turn, just shook her head. "Good night, both of you." Flashing an amused smile to Harry, she turned her Chair in the direction of the Infirmary, though she knew she wouldn't be sleeping tonight for the effects of the spell still had her energy very much up.

UUUUUUU

Headache

Temples and forehead

Extensive Cruciatus

Nerve damage and shock

Stress

Weak eye muscles

A simple Healing Charm for the headache. A Soothing Charm for the temple and forehead area. A Nerve Healing Charm for damage from Cruciatus. A Calming Charm for shock and stress. A Strengthening Charm for the eye muscles.

Hermione had everything in place. Now, she needed to find the balance between the equation to combine all the Charms into one.

She was good with Arithmancy, yes. But the combining of Charms needed Advanced Arithmancy. As she was not taking the class, she would have to educate herself.

Healers seldom created Charms in the Wizarding World. Charms experts did that, and Healers only used the spells to heal. But Hermione was trying to create a Charm from the scratch—which was a very arduous task. But when had she ever liked easy?

She went around the shelves in the Library and chose a few books on Arithmancy. Maybe Professor Vector would agree to help her. The lady had really wanted Hermione to take her class in her Sixth and Seventh year. But Hermione had not been that farsighted to take the class. If she could not reach a solution through the books, she would ask Professor Vector, she decided.

With that, Hermione returned to her table with the new stack of books. Almost everyone from Third year onwards were in Hogsmeade, resulting in an empty Library for her to work in peace.

She read from the first book for an hour before closing it. Arithmancy was quite hectic, especially when she was out of habit for months. She had managed to scribble notes, but nothing concrete enough to help her with her equations.

She decided to take a break. She issued the new books in her name, greeted Madam Pince a Good Afternoon, and left the Library.

But where could she go? Sitting in the common room alone would be too boring and she truly did not want to return to her room in the Hospital Wing. She was almost certain that the effects of the dark spell still somewhat lingered on her for she still felt more enthusiastic than she usually did. Suddenly, she had an idea.

"Karly!" She called.

The tiny house-elf appeared with a pop. "Miss calls Karly?"

"I did. Karly, could you bring me two bottles of Butterbear from the Kitchens?"

"Yes, Miss!" She excitedly popped away, having received an order. Karly returned holding two bottles of the said drink. Hermione thanked the house-elf and stowed both the bottles in her satchel.

With that, she made her way down, to the dungeons. She needed no additional evidence to be certain that Professor Snape was not chaperoning the students to Hogsmeade.

The dungeons were empty. She was glad to not have encountered any Slytherins on her way. She reached the Professor's office but waited outside before knocking, listening alertly to check if anybody else was inside. It would be hard to explain her presence there to anyone.

But before she could knock, the door was opened. The Professor towered over her with an irritated scowl on his face. Hermione bit her lip. She wondered if it was not a favourable time to approach him.

But his features softened. "Granger. I was under the impression that you were in Hogsmeade."

"I didn't go," she said lamely.

"Obviously," he drawled.

"Um... It's a Saturday and you didn't set a meeting time, so I thought of checking..." She said with natural hesitance that his personality commanded.

"It must have slipped my mind," he muttered more to himself than to her. "But do come in. I am considerably free right now."

"Great," she smiled.

He closed the door behind her and she settled her Chair opposite to his. A Potions tome laid open on his desk. A few parchments, too, were scattered along. She noticed a Muggle pen laying between in the crack of the book. He sat on his chair and piled the parchments neatly.

"Why didn't you go?" He asked conversationally.

Hermione shrugged. "I didn't want to."

"You are lying." He declared simply.

"Yes, I am," she sighed. "Well, Lavender...Brown... Lavender Brown wanted to ask Ron out, but Ron wouldn't have gone had I accompanied him. So I declined and he went with her."

"The ultimate sacrifice," he mocked, but without malice.

"It's good for him to actually start dating someone, or it'll just be too messy later..." She gestured with her hands vaguely as she spoke of the uncomfortable topic.

Hermione watched as realisation dawned on his face. "My apologies. I did not see it in that light."

"That's alright," she said lightly. "Not that it really bothers me anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "Does it not?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Alright, it does. But...I am trying to accept things, I guess."

"Had it been in my power to make amends, Granger, I assure you, I would have." His voice held a sincerity, an earnestness that she appreciated.

"I know," she said. "But it's not in our hands..." He didn't respond to that. Hermione could see guilt flickering through his features.

Then it struck her. In all the chaos, she had never stopped to think if the bond was in any way disrupting a relationship that he might have. The Infidelity Clause did not affect him similarly as it did her. Yet, his relationship might be getting affected on an emotional level. But would it be prudent to ask him? And would it be prudent to remain ignorant!

"Um, Sir, can I ask you something?"

"I have a feeling that I might not like the question," he said silkily. "But do ask."

"It's...a bit personal..." She hesitated.

"Go on, Granger," he said in a bored tone. "I might not answer, but do try."

She bit her lip, "I never...considered how the bond might be affecting your...personal affairs... I mean I know you aren't exactly...married, but I mean... Am I causing a problem- I mean, obviously I am. Everything is a problem. But if you are...er...am I- This bond, is it coming, interfering that is, with...er..."

"You are blabbering, Granger," he cut her rambling short. "But I believe I have caught the keywords. No, the bond, as abject as it is, is not creating an interference in my non-existent personal affairs."

"Oh, that's a relief," she said awkwardly. "I thought...I should ask."

"The bond does not torment me in any fashion, save for having to consume the jam-"

"I made it again," she protested.

"Yes, and I do recall expressing my gratitude. But I do not enjoy sweetened items in general," he told her.

"I can make something salty next time," she offered.

"No," his voice suddenly attained a firmness. "I was not implying that, and please do not consider it to be a duty or your responsibility. Granger, you are not meant to be stuck in the throes of servitude, and especially not on my account."

"When I made that jam for the second time, it was not out of servitude," she said. "I made it because I wanted to. Doing something for someone is not servitude or compulsion. Sometimes, it's out of free will."

"With the impression that you held in my regards back then, how could it have been free-will to make my life even a tad bit better?" He questioned.

"With the impression that you held of us back then, Sir, how could it have been free-will to come and save us from Remus-turned-warewolf?" She countered.

"That was different," he responded. "Your lives were at stake."

"Now I don't know if bad food causes death or not, but it might have caused you diabetes. Which is said to be a slow killer," she chuckled.

His fingers reached his lips and Hermione was vaguely contented at seeing the slight crinkle at the edges of his eyes. "I hope, Granger, you do realise that diabetes does not-"

"-affect a wizard as it does a Muggle," she finished. "Yes, I know. But you get my point. It was not servitude. Neither will it ever be."

"Good." He seemed satisfied.

"You didn't come for the Feast," Hermione suddenly remembered.

"Good observation," he commented, picking up his pen.

"Why?"

"I do not like to attend Feasts," he said lightly.

"You're lying," she said simply.

He looked up from his Journal. "Am I?" He challenged.

"You are always present for the Start-of-Term and the End-of-Term Feasts," she pointed out.

"That is a compulsion," he shrugged.

Hermione could hardly stop herself from gawking—he never shrugged! "And this isn't?"

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it. After a pause, he spoke, "Halloween does not bring me recollections pleasant enough to celebrate."

"Oh..." She murmured. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"But the godforsaken curiosity." He did not seem to be offended. But the humour that he was attempting at, too, was not being delivered with his nature ease. He quickly switched to a lighter topic, probably sensing her curiosity intensifying. "Madam Pomphrey contacted me. She wants me to guide you through advanced medicinal potions. When will you brew next?"

"On Tuesday," she replied.

"Perhaps I will stop by the Infirmary at some point," he added. "I would suggest that you keep the ingredients ready."

"Alright." She fumbled for a better topic so as to divert his attention from whatever plagued him relating to Halloween. "What about that Order meeting we were supposed to have? And that plan for you to regain Riddle's trust..."

"We shall have to come up with a plan soon," he said. "I believe the Headmaster will call a meeting sometime next week. Be ready."

"We don't have a plan yet?" She asked in concern.

"Nothing plausible, no," he shook his head. "But it needs to be concrete."

"Did my reluctance and eventual failure add to his mistrust for you?" Hermione asked, feeling guilty.

"Not quite," he replied. "The Dark Lord seemed to believe in your ineptness at Magic."

"What if Malfoy or somebody else tells him otherwise?"

"I do not think that the Dark Lord would enjoy a chat with the Malfoy brat and discuss your academic progress," he snorted.

"Putting it like this, you're probably right," she conceded. "Also, I was meaning to ask you...when do you think I'll be called again?"

"Your association with me is supposed to be secretive," he said. "The Dark Lord would not risk that by summoning you too often to draw suspicion. But that also does not imply that you will not be called ever again."

"Basically, we can't say," she shrugged.

"Precisely."

"So, we need to continue with making the false memories?"

"Yes. We cannot afford to be careless. We must also come with another plan for demonstrating Potter's teetering mental balance."

"Another fight with Malfoy?" Hermione suggested.

"No, that would need a lot of preparation," he said. "Ask Potter to appear near hysterical whenever he is in the vicinity of Mr. Malfoy and his cronies. We shall keep it subtle."

"I don't think Harry needs to act that way. It comes naturally to him around Malfoy," Hermione chuckled. "But I'll tell him."

The Order meeting was next week, she reflected. Maybe she could come up with a plan that could help him win his position back in the Death Eater ranks. But new ideas needs new energy. Looking around the dull office, deep in the dungeons, she mentally clicked her tongue. No wonder he didn't have a plan here.

And so proving to be the Gryffindor that she was, she spoke without thinking. "Let's go to Hogsmeade."

His head shot up from his book. "Excuse me?"

It was not in her plan, of course. But the idea seemed to have merits. An outing might even appease his mood. "Let's go to Hogsmeade!"

"Miss Granger, you seem to have lost your mental facilities," he said dryly.

"I'm serious!" She insisted.

"When almost half the school is roaming around the village, your genius mind comes up with this preposterously bizarre idea," he drawled. "And when your peers inquire what you were doing in my company, do tell them the episodes of our dynamic camaraderie."

"A simple Notice-Me-Not Charm will keep the intruders away," she said smugly. "Also, I know of a very quiet place in the village, where no students usually come."

"Granger, if your friends even get an inkling of your presence, it will cost you a slew of unanswerable questions," he objected. But Hermione could see him close to compliance.

"Both of them are on dates, and won't leave their respective partners to come looking for me, in an isolated corner of Hogsmeade," she said convincingly.

"Granger, that is an absurd idea," he declared.

"Please?" She tried. "We really deserve a break after all that Occlumency and acting and tension..."

"Granger-"

"Please?" She could only barely keep herself from resorting to her more childish instincts and start kicking her legs in stubbornness.

"This is truly puerile," he huffed. "We could land into grave consequences-"

"That means a yes?" She grinned. Sometimes—very rarely—even the serious, thoughtful Hermione Granger liked to be spontaneous. Or maybe, she could just place the blame on the spell that she had used last night.

"No, that means a no." He announced. "What do you even want to accomplish by visiting an isolated nook in the village!"

"It'll just be a refreshing walk," she replied. "And, Sir, I can bet that you have not been to Hogsmeade in a decade."

"In fact, Granger, I have been to the village this very last month," he said silkily. "To purchase some ingredients for the potions you required."

"That was not an outing," she countered. "This will just be a long walk. No work. It will be relaxing."

He rubbed his temples. "Merlin, I have no idea why I am relenting to this, taking leave of my better senses."

"Because you want a break, too," she smiled.

"We will be easily caught leaving the castle," he pointed out.

"I know many passageways!" Hermione's grin only widened.

"I cannot believe this," he muttered under his breath. "This is an absolutely absurd idea."

"C'mon, let's go!" Without waiting for him to access his 'better senses' and change his mind, Hermione retrieved her wand and cast a strong Notice-Me-Not on herself, and moved to the door.

Behind her, she heard him cursing under his breath, but casting the spell on himself just as well. Hermione bit her cheek to refrain the chuckle that was building in her stomach. Honestly, she was herself surprised by her sudden enthusiasm and his sudden agreement. Maybe they both did indeed need a break after the weeks of tension.

This could be the craziest she had been since deciding to deceive Umbridge with her idea of DA.

UUUUUUU

With every step that he took through the hidden passage that Granger had shown him, Severus asked himself what exactly was wrong with him! How did he even relent to Granger's mindless wishes!

Did he need a break? No, of course not. He had worked in tougher times without taking as much as a night off. But Granger needed a break, yes, that was why he was here—or so he told himself. It was only out of general courtesy. After all, her mental health mattered all too much in their subterfuge. Of course, he would not enjoy the outing, that was...absurd. It was duty, yes.

That was all.

But in truth, he could not bring himself to outright refuse her.

Granger could not stop grinning, it seemed. Her excitement was almost tangible, as if she had never visited the common Wizarding village before.

When they left the tunnel, Severus found himself standing in an alley behind Hog's Head. The street could be called shady for the kind of folks the pub entertained on most evenings. Severus himself had been a frequent visitor in his days as a Death Eater. But the alley was empty, thankfully.

"This way," she led the way. As they moved, Severus recognised to be approaching the outskirts of the village. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade.

"How did you discover this side of the village?" He asked.

"In our Fourth year, Sirius came to meet Harry here, and we followed," she told him. "Not here exactly, but in one of the caves."

"You ventured to the caves, alone?" He raised an eyebrow.

"The three of us and Sirius, in his Animagus form," she corrected

"Three underage wizards, two of whom were dangerously dimwitted, and a wanted criminal. Epitome of safety, I must say," he snorted.

"Yes, well, it was not exactly safe," Granger resorted to bitting her lip. "But we didn't see the danger back then."

"And now?" He asked.

"And now, I'm here with a grown wizard who is not a wanted criminal, nowhere near dimwitted and definitely capable of holding a duel if it comes to our safety," she laughed. "Moreover, I am capable of fighting just as well."

"Cheeky witch," he muttered.

Granger fished into her bag and retrieved two bottles of what seemed to be Butterbear.

"How long have you been scheming for this?" He asked, almost amused.

She handed him a bottle. "Actually, I asked Karly to get these from the Kitchens. I brought them while coming to your office."

"And then the drinks coaxed you into visiting the village," he said sarcastically.

"Maybe," she flashed a cheeky grin and uncorked her bottle. "I really like Butterbear."

"I haven't had one in decades," he commented.

"Because it's sweet?"

"No, because I-" switched to drinks less virgin, "-developed a taste for other drinks."

"Then it shall make you nostalgic of your schooldays," she smiled.

"My schooldays are less than memorable," he muttered.

"Oh, so... To the crazy outing?" She held up the bottle.

"At least you have the grace to realise the idea did not carry a semblance of sanity," he raised his own bottle.

Only a few Cottages could be seen as they continued walking, their gardens were larger. Severus recognised that they were walking towards the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. They started on the gentle sloop easily, now quite far from the village itself and into the empty suburbs.

Granger took a sip of her drink. "But sane ideas are seldom so enjoyable."

"And here shatters the image of a mature Miss Granger that I had started believing in," he sipped from his bottle. The taste did take him back to his first Hogsmeade weekend, when he had visited the Three Broomsticks with Lily. She had been exuberant at the prospect of visiting the Wizarding settlement for the first time, and he had imitated her enthusiasm despite having visited the place before.

"You know, back in the Muggle world, I used to dress up for Trick-Or-Treat," Granger's anecdote claimed his attention. "And even though I didn't know that I was a witch, I used to dress like one. A stereotypical witch with a pointed hat, a broom, fake warts. And my crazy hair always worked well with the disguise."

"The Wicked Witch of the West," he supplied.

Granger perked up. "You've read The Wonderful Wizard of OZ?"

"Yes, though at an age old enough to not be thrilled," he added. "But it was a classic, nevertheless." Severus realised he had seldom seen Granger so cheery. Her temperament mostly remained serious and wise. Or gloomy of her depression. He had seen her excitement when discussing books and her eagerness when one was imparting knowledge. She had been kind and empathetic, a few times even to him. But the relaxed pleasantness had been rare.

It suited her, he decided.

"I had an inclination to dress like a witch, maybe my subconscious mind was always aware of my roots," she said as they kept walking by the mountainside, heading nowhere exactly. "Have you ever gone for Trick-Or-Treat?"

"Once," he replied. Lily had dragged him into accompanying her. They had been Ten.

"What did you dress as?"

"Wager a guess."

She chuckled. "Sorry, I can't think of anything but a vampire."

"Correct assumption," he smirked.

"Really?" At his nod, she burst into laughter. Severus pretended to rub below his nose to hide the smile that was creeping on his face. "I think the fact that you ever agreed to go in the first place is harder to fathom."

"A friend had insisted," he said briefly.

"He must have been really good at convincing then," she remarked.

"She," he corrected unconsciously.

"Oh, she then."

They stopped at a distance from the caves. The mountainside was quiet, empty of troublemaking students. November had most of the trees shed their leaves, waiting for winters to heave the branches with snow. It was almost pleasant. Severus transfigured a rock into a bench for himself. He settled down comfortably, under a thick, tall tree that was nearly completely disrobed of its leaves. Granger, too, parked her Chair close.

"You have adapted quite well to the Chair," he said.

"It's easy enough to control," she ran a hand through the controlling arm.

"Most people would have been distraught at the prospect," he commented.

"Yes, but it's temporary," she sipped from her bottle. "And in a way, I have come to appreciate my body. And regret my actions. It's fair enough, in fact, I didn't respect my body, so this is how I'm learning my lesson. Though these logics tend to leave my mind at times."

"The road to recovery is not smooth, but certain to leave you at your desired destination, once you embark upon the journey," he quoted. "There are not many wizards who suffer from disabilities. But the year I had joined as a teacher, a Muggle-born student had the similar ailment as you, only permanent. Although the school was accommodating, the other students were not. He dropped out in two years."

"I think being a Muggle-born, it would have been tough in the first place," Granger ruminated.

"Did you, too, face predicaments on first entering Hogwarts?" He asked.

"Oh, God, yes," she sighed. "Initially, I had no friends. I was so homesick that I was seriously considering going back home on Christmas and never returning."

"You were ready to give your education up?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Magical education," she corrected. "I would have continued my Muggle education. But then the incident with the Troll happened and I became friends with Harry and Ron."

"Yes, when three amateur wizards combated against a full-grown Mountain Troll," he drawled. "And escaped unscratched."

"We did not think," she said sheepishly. "Actually, that one time, we did not chase the problem. The Troll chased us."

"Yes, that one time, perhaps," he smirked.

"How was your first year as a Professor?" She asked.

"Pathetic," he muttered. "And the trend continues."

"You don't like teaching?"

"I do not," Severus was honest. "My position as a Professor is a part of my post as a spy."

"Oh. What would do instead? As a profession."

"I would have devoted my time conducting extensive researches with potions than squandering my time teaching a bunch of dunderheads who clearly have neither the inclination nor the skills to learn," he replied. "Barring a few," he added as an afterthought.

"You can pursue that after the war," she suggested.

If I harbour the impractical dream of outliving the war. "Perhaps," he said.

UUUUUUU

They returned to the castle when it struck Six. It was then that they realised that the students would have already been back in school. The walk back to the tunnel was accompanied by the Professor's annoyed muttering about having lost track of time, while Hermione was most amused, barely managing to suppress her chuckle. After all, it was a sight to behold—the usually composed man so worked up. But more than that, it had been a pleasure to watch the usually reserved man speaking so lightly and enjoying the nature.

They had conversed about a Herbology report recently published in Flora Of Today, a famous educational magazine that the Wizarding World read. As neither of them were an expert of Herbology, yet possessed adequate knowledge, the discussion was lively but not dominating from either parties. The Professor, Hermione knew, was a brilliant man, opinionated, well-read, who harboured a deep interest in books and possessed high intellect. They both imparted their opinions, but in a respectful manner. He was not condescending in his behaviour, unlike the Professor one would encounter in class. Hermione could see a gleam in his eyes while he talked about the newfound herbs that could be used as potion ingredients. He was passionate about what he did. It warmed her heart.

She had immense appreciation for the people who followed their ambitions and were passionate about it.

"Wait," he held up a hand. Standing at the exit of the passageway they had taken, opening on the second floor, he looked out to search the area for any errant students.

"They must be having dinner," Hermione said.

"You must make your way to the Great Hall," he suggested.

"And you?" She asked.

"Would you like for us to walk down for dinner together, Granger?" He said sarcastically.

"No, I would like for you not to skip dinner again, Sir," she replied, trying to copy his tone.

"It will arise suspicions if we both arrive late for dinner," he said, ignoring her tone.

"So you won't eat?" She frowned. Now that she was working on his Healing Charm, she understood that skipping meals could affect him negatively in relation to his headaches.

"I assure you, Granger, I do not need a nursemaid," he muttered, looking out again for one last check.

"I'm a budding Healer, Sir, and I understand the consequences of missed meals," Hermione responded. But she could see his entire demeanour changing when he turned to face her. He stood stiffly, his face though a smooth mask of impassiveness, exuded an uncomfortable tension.

He doesn't like to be cared for.

Perhaps because nobody ever did care for him?

The realisation stung her heart. "I think I should be going before Harry and Ron get worried," she made an excuse to escape before her expressions revealed her thoughts.

"Yes," he moved aside to let her pass.

She did not want to end the meeting on a sour note though. "We have another Hogsmeade weekend coming up before Christmas, Sir."

"I will not dream of it," he snorted. "It would be advisable for you, too, to not scheme about it."

Hermione laughed. "Goodbye, Sir."

He muttered something in response that she couldn't catch. Hermione went on her way to the Great Hall, weaving stories to tell Ron of her day. To Harry, she thought, she would like to see his shock when she would tell her about her outing with one Severus Snape.

A/N: Oh. My. Morgana's garters! Was that a...date? Was it? Did you just say they went on a date unknowingly? Well...I don't know, let's see how Hermione and Severus see it, in time. So here, I am giving you all these amazing scenes, it's time that you guys reward me with your two cents! I'm waiting for reviews! :)