The week after Hermione's presentation Severus kept expecting to see her. Every swish of a cloak around a corner, or mop of bushy hair, had his heart beating faster, his lips twitching into something that a First Year might mistake for a smile.

Each and every time he was disappointed.

Her bracelet sat on the desk in his rooms, glinting quietly in the candle light, winking at him softly. Every time he caught sight of it his mind seemed to lurch, pleading with the universe to bring her back to Hogwarts again. Despite the physical discomfort of the reminder, Severus took to carrying it around with him, slipped into his pocket. This way, he rationalised, if he ever bumped into her... the plan never developed much further than that, but Severus still tucked the metal band into his pocket every morning, and placed it with the solemnity of ritual on his bedside table every night.

"She's busy, that's all," Minerva said, touching his hand with hers when he asked her if the woman was ill. "Her project was approved - there's a lot of work to do in the first week to gather a team, set up a timeline. That sort of thing. She'll be by soon."

But the days ticked by and Hermione failed to show up for breakfast or dinner, drinks with Minerva or - and Severus had to admit this was a foolish thing to hope for - even to invite him out for coffee-hot-chocolate at her favourite cafe.

It might have been a foolish thing to hope for, but Severus hoped for it all the same, felt the burning brightness of that hope sear his chest with each and every breath.

"You know," Vector said softly one Saturday morning, as Severus crunched his toast mutinously between his teeth, staring morosely at the doors, "It might never happen!"

"It already has," he snarled, forced to come back to reality with a start. He'd been imagining her return, her cheerful smile pushing open those double doors. "That's the trouble."

He left her frowning behind him, marching away in a whirl of heavy wool cloak and a cloud of determination. This had to stop - he was moping like a child, for goodness sake. He knew where she lived; or at least, he knew she lived close to the bakery. He would wait for her there, or send an owl and follow it. Ask her out for another coffee.

In Severus' limited understanding, since she had proposed the first, he was technically in charge of the second encounter.

His brain shied away from calling it a date.

Severus really, really wanted to go on a date with Hermione Granger.

The thought brought an angry blush to his cheeks as he stormed down from the castle to the gates, the ground hard beneath his boots, his heart surging in his chest. Should he do it? Could he? For a breath, he stood by the boundary, half-convinced that the best thing to do would be to return back to Hogwarts and curl up with a tatty paperback.

In the end, it was the bracelet that pushed him over the edge, the metal tingling under his fingertips.


The wind in London was much less sharp than that of Scotland. That was the first thing that caught Severus' attention as he reeled in a grotty alleyway a street away from the bakery. His head swirled indelicately, yanking his stomach along with it, and he closed his eyes in order to settle his nausea. He hadn't enjoyed the toast enough going down to even consider a repeat.

It had been a long time since he'd Apparated such a distance. In the old days, when he was summoned here and there and every-bloody-where the Dark Lord wanted him, Severus had become accustomed to Apparating - sometimes blindly - a distance of twenty thousand miles or more twice in a night, four nights a week.

Severus hadn't thought that his year and a half of freedom would have destroyed his talent so quickly.

But then, he had been getting comfortable. Complacent.

Surprisingly, it hadn't been the Dark Lord's death that had let him get this way, it had been Dumbledore's. In between the wars, with Dumbledore forever chasing this or that dark artefact, Severus had gone to enough sad, lonely, three- or four- Death Eater meetings to make him deathly afraid of anything held in a circle. The sad, gloomy oppression of people who were convinced they were superior haunted him. But with the former Headmaster resting peacefully somewhere - Severus refused to consider how his former confident had met that fate - Severus had been free to relax. Withdraw. Soften.

"Come on, old chap," Severus chided himself, opening his eyes and counting the bricks at the end of his pointed nose until his mind - and stomach - steadied. "Work to do."

Once he was in the park, staring at the coffee shop, Severus realised that this plan was not perhaps his most thought through. He'd been acting on desperation and anger, tired of Vector's cheery lies and Minerva's calculating looks. If he was going to suffer like a man scorned, he would damned well be scorned, and sod the world.

Now, in the chilly wind, with ominously grey clouds weighted above him, Severus was regretting his morning's choices. Wizards, Witches and Muggles all surged around the park, focused on going this way and that along the nondescript streets, ignorant to the beauty that nestled between them. The proximity of so many strangers, when the world still insisted on judging him for his part in the war, questioning his loyalties, sneering, swearing- Severus felt fear ripple down his back at the thought of it, sour in his throat. He didn't want to be too out in the open. He didn't want to be here at all, far from the comforts of Hogwarts or the familiarities of home.

On top of that, he had no idea where she lived, other than "close by", and he realised now that going around knocking on all the doors might not have the desired effect. And might introduce him to more than a few Wizards or Witches who would rather Severus be in Azkaban.

Instead, he pushed open the door of the cafe, ordered himself a hot chocolate - with marshmallows, never hurt to think like the person you were trying to find, after all. Definitely had nothing to do with his own sweet tooth - and waited. He didn't feel the itch between his shoulder blades of attention as strongly here, and wondered if that was because there were less people to stare and threaten and think things at him, or because he knew the cafe to be safe because he'd come here first with her.

Severus Snape was a patient man. He'd spent so much of his life, first as a child, then a teenager, then an adult, sitting on the brink of danger, that he was rather revelling in the feeling of having absolutely nothing to do but wait. Nobody was going to order him to attend a dismal party or play chess with Malfoy or murder some poor, unsuspecting Muggle. Nobody was going to make pointed comments about the hole in his socks or backhand him for 'talking back', whatever that mean.

It felt as though the weight of the world had been, if not sitting on his shoulders, then squeezing them together at the back, fists gripping tightly into the muscles and twisting.

"Refill, sir?" the waitress asked, her smile a cherry pop of colour.

"Perhaps a water. And an espresso," Severus said, trying to subtly scrape the thickness of chocolate from his teeth. She turned to go, the frilly apron twirling in the breeze, and Severus decided something. "Actually, a moment more. A fr-" his tongue nearly tripped over the word, and Severus had to focus very closely to ensure it came out in one piece, "a friend tipped me off to this place. Perhaps you know her? Hermione Granger?"

"Oh yes! Hermione is always popping in here on her way to or from work - usually with her paperwork tucked under one elbow!" The waitress gave a laugh.

"On her way to work? Ah, that's unfortunate." Severus swallowed his disappointment, which sat more obtrusively on his tongue than the chocolate had. "I had hoped to see her here today, thank her for the recommendation."

"Ah, sorry. She has pretty hectic weekends from what I understand - she's friends with Harry Potter, you know! And Ronald Weasley. So she has a lot of Quidditch matches to attend!" The waitress laughed, and disappeared back behind the counter, Severus' empty hot chocolate cup in one hand. "Oh!" She added, popping back around the counter. "You could always ring up and see if she's in."

"Ring…up?"

"Oh, didn't she tell you?" The waitress grinned. "She lives right in the flat right above us!"


AN - I adore Severus in this itchy, nervous state, finally learning to enjoy his free time. I hope you did too!

Not long to go now, my glorious readers.

And, not to belabour the point, but it was your glorious and wonderful reviews that reminded me to come back and finish this darn story, even in the middle of everything popping off over here, so thank you once again! You're all stars. Glorious stars. 3