A.N~ Hello! Sorry its been a while! I hope things are going as good for everyone as they possibly can be. Take a break, happy reading

Overwhelmed by the roller coaster that had been the last few days, Hermione laughed hysterically. A mere week ago she was tucked up in the restricted section of the library, buried in a book. Now, she was sitting in the sand next to her churlish potions professor on a deserted island after very nearly dying and he was smiling at her. Grinning, even. That was the most unbelievable part of all. Maybe, she had died, and this was some sort of distorted hell sent to drive her insane.

Severus was thoroughly taken aback when the girl burst out laughing, even more so when he found he had to fight the urge to laugh with her. He didn't laugh. Ever. Her laughter stopped abruptly, though the sparkle never left her eyes.

"Thank you, Professor. You saved my life. I owe you."

"No, you don't. We are even."

Hermione looked over at him, to see that his gaze was fixed firmly in the fire. She didn't need to be a legilimens to know what he was thinking of.

She couldn't conceal the gasp that left her throat as the snake tore through his, blood splashing the glass panes of the Boathouse. Harry clamped his palm over her lips, his flesh tasting of sweat and dirt. The megalomaniac stood mere metres away, too absorbed in his own victory to hear her. Seconds felt like hours as she watched on, helpless as the light drained from the Professor's eyes. No, her heart whispered. Voldemort stopped his parading about and disapparated, taking his disgusting reptile with him.

The trio burst forth from where they had been crouched, Severus gave no indication he knew they were there, and Hermione thought he was already gone. The next few moments were still a blur in her memory, for it had all happened so fast. The potions master had motioned for Harry to collect his tears, then he and Ron had made a break for the castle. They had tried in vain to drag her away from the clearly dying man, before giving up and heading toward the fight. She refused to leave him.

Hermione had used every spell, potion, and muggle healing training she possessed that night. Once she had stemmed the bleeding and placed him into a magically induced coma, she apparated them both to the shrieking shack. She left him lying there, telling him she would be back for him just as soon as the war was over.

No one had ever told Severus what had happened that night, whilst he lay in magical slumber, though he was informed of who had saved him by a hesitant McGonagall. No one had thought to or considered that he might want to know. Most wizards and witches were reluctant to bring about the subject, content with progression.

"I thought I had failed, when I came back for you. You were as cold as ice and paler than a sheet."

His gaze never left the fire. "When I first awoke and realised that I was still alive, I was furious. All these years of being trained up for the war and I didn't even die. Talk about expectations."

He spoke lightly, as if he weren't discussing his own want of death.

"You must have hated me."

"Yes, then."

She pushed, a little. "And now?"

"Now, I merely dislike you. I am grateful that you have procured my existence for further time, I still have books to read." The latter may have been a lie, but there wasn't need to tell the girl that. She had been through enough. The debt was settled, it was in the past.

His words about disliking her should have hurt, but they didn't. Hermione wasn't sure that they were the truth. If he was indeed being honest, she could handle being disliked. Especially by him, since he hadn't been known to like anyone. Except Lily. She dismissed the curious twinge in her chest at the thought, akin to jealousy.

They slept by the fire that night. Mercifully, the stars shone bright above, and the wind took its leave. Severus was quietly relieved to see the girl was back to her normal pallor, even if it were accompanied by an attitude that was overly chirpy even for her. The fire remained alight, with Severus waking during the night to restoke it diligently. His arms still ached from lighting the damn thing. Hermione had curled up practically in the flames after wriggling around to create a small dip in the sand. Without dwelling on the action, the potions master laid his teaching robes over the girl as he had in past nights, before collecting his spare robes to drape over himself.

When Hermione awoke, she awoke with a new sense of conviction. They would build a shelter; they would remain strong and they would get home. Maybe, she could even knock the large chip off Professor Snape's shoulder. That last goal might be unobtainable, she reasoned. Although, once again, she had awoken with his robes around her and this time, there was no chance she had taken them. He had been wearing them when she fell asleep. A warm flush ran through the witch at the thought, and she hummed thoughtfully. It was only just dawn and for the first time since the portkey had brought them here, Hermione heard a chorus of birdsong echoing in through the jungle. It eased some of the loneliness that had made a home in her chest. The sky was an ombre of purples and pinks, cloudless.

She wandered down the beach quietly, collected pieces of wood which had turned up with the incoming tide. She collected every piece, big or small. Hermione knew that the difference between life or death could be miniscule. They needed every opportunity tucked away in their back pockets. Once the beach had been plucked clean, she waded through the rockpool and cleaved the more sizeable limpets from the rocks, taking care to only choose those fitting the description the professor had given her.

The limpets had been thoroughly cooked, de-shelled and placed on one of the larger tropical leaves by the time Severus awoke. Hermione had eaten her share and left him a sizeable portion, a quiet way of thanking him again for saving her life. Whilst her ribs were all protruding now and the dull ache had not left her body, her mind was sharp as ever.

"I'm going to get us some more water, and wash." She wasn't looking forward to going into the jungle alone, even across the small distance. Her displeasure must have shown on her face, because the wizard sitting in the sand before her swallowed his mouthful of limpet and told her if she could hold off, he would accompany her. He needed a wash too he said, by way of explanation. Really, her illness and nearly losing the girl had made him appreciate the presence of another human being on this hellish island. He was reluctant to let her venture off alone, lest she fall ill or injure herself again.

Hermione went first, peeking glances over her shoulder to make sure the professor wasn't watching. Why would he, she snorted to herself. He finds you rather repulsive, Granger. He won't look at you, even if you ARE the only person around.

She was only half right. He wouldn't look at her, but only because he considered himself to be a man of some moral. He could hear her splashing water against herself and the thought made his nostrils flare. He stared stoically ahead, focusing on a small spider climbing its way up a pale tree trunk. He resisted the urge to turn around, to rove over her body with his eyes. He willed himself not to imagine what she looked like, instead focusing on how good it would be to feel clean after so many days in filth. After what felt like eternity, she cleared her throat politely from behind him.

Hermione chose to wander around a-ways from the spring, rather than wait for the professor to bathe. She didn't have his restraint and loathed the idea of being caught taking a peek at him. She had not wandered far when she stumbled upon a grassy meadow, randomly deposited amongst the jungle trees. It wasn't large, but it was sunny and sheltered. It wasn't too far from their bay, or from the spring. Delighted, she began to traipse back toward the spring to tell the professor. The girl had only gone a few metres when she stilled, the feeling of being observed creeping up her spine once more. Taking deep breaths, she walked on until she couldn't bare it, breaking into a swift run.

She crashed through the undergrowth at speed, tumbling into the freshly bathed wizard, who was in the motion of pulling his shirt over his head. The pair fell to the ground, with Severus letting out a muffled "oof" as the air was knocked from his lungs.

Hermione had fallen on top of him. She scrambled to push herself up, pressing her hands into his bare chest in an attempt to push herself off him. Still weak, she only succeeded in lifting her upper half up, which in turn pressed her lower half harder against him. She flushed pink to the tips of her ears before desperately rolling sideways onto the jungle floor.

All the while, Severus had been stuck with his arms above his head, face covered by his shirt. He felt the heat of her hands pressing against the ridges of his chest, her right-hand brushing against his nipple. Before his brain had a chance to process this strange occurrence, he felt her hips press heavily against his own. He thanked the gods that his face was hidden, for even he wouldn't have been able to mask that expression. Sweet circe, this wasn't good. He hated her. She was the fool to blame for this situation, and for the entire still-being-alive situation in general. He hated her, didn't he?

Hermione was babbling. Again. She knew she was, but she simply couldn't help it. The shame of the events mere moments before had her mouth going at the speed of light. She wouldn't let him get a word in edgeways, for fear he would refer to it. She led him to the grassy glade, her previous fears of being stalked all but forgotten in the moment.

"What do you think? It's sheltered from the wind, there's plenty of sunshine and it's dry-ish. We can reach both the spring and the-"

He cut her off. "Yes, Ms Granger. This is a sensible place to build a more substantial shelter. Good… spotting."