I couldn't find Professor McGonagall until just before dinner, but she invited me to her office and Transfigured me the same cushy armchair as before. I told her what had happened with her idea for the extra credit project, and about how Snape had started responding to me. I blabbered on until finally, I stopped to take a sip of tea.

"Well," said Professor McGonagall, obviously overwhelmed by all the information I had just dumped on her. "I can honestly say that I expected him to be responding already. Poor man, I imagine that he is starved for friendly attention. I could ask Albus to make sure you had some workspace in the dungeons, if you like."

"No, Professor, I think that this will work out fine. Professor Snape seemed…displeased with the idea of sharing his space." She nodded and I continued. "I do have an idea though. If you could just help me with one thing.…"

"Go on, my dear," she adjusted her glasses and peered intently at me.

"Could you tell me…When is Professor Snape's birthday?" I bit my lip nervously, wondering if my plan was a good one and hoping for Professor McGonagall's approval. To my immense delight, her face broke into a grin.

"October 30th. You can see why he hates Halloween so much."

"I never knew he hated Halloween."

"Oh, goodness. Let me just say this…do not decorate any cake or card or gift you might be thinking of giving him with orange or black. Or jack-o-lanterns, black cats, you get the picture."

"And he'll be turning 38?" Not exactly crucial to my plan, but information I was curious about just the same.

"Yes, that's right. This will probably be a difficult one for him, too. Don't get discouraged if he doesn't respond well. I daresay no one outside of a few members of the Hogwarts staff has acknowledged his birthday in many years." She got a wistful look as she reminisced, but quickly snapped out of her nostalgic mood. "Come along, Miss Granger, you need to be eating dinner."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

I thanked her and trudged to the Great Hall, my head and heart heavy from thinking about Professor Snape. My mood only worsened when I got to the Gryffindor table, because Harry and Ron were still upset with me for neglecting them, and moved places so that I couldn't sit near them. Instead, I took a seat next to Neville.

"Hey, Neville. How's Herbology?"

"Great. Professor Sprout is already working on finding an apprenticeship for me after Hogwarts."

"That's wonderful, Neville. How about your girl troubles? Got that sorted out?" I grinned at him.

"Actually, Hermione, I wanted to ask you something about that, if you don't mind."

"Sure thing." I loaded my plate up with mashed potatoes and veggies and settled into my comfortable role of problem-fixer. Snape might be a challenge, but Neville's girl troubles were something I could handle.

"Well, I don't know which one to ask out." Oh, goodness. This was going to be a simple problem to fix.

"Which one do you like best?" Honestly, he could be daft sometimes!

"I dunno…I'm sorry, Hermione, but I don't want to hurt their feelings!"

"OK, well, which one do you care the most about?"

"I care about all of them!"

"Honestly, Neville!!" I was getting exasperated. "Let's try this. Is there one of the girls in particular who you really like to make happy? Whose sadness makes you get sad? Whose smile is the goal of your day?"

"Well, now that you put it that way. I guess…Lisa makes me feel that way. I always love it when she smiles, and…."

But by then the realization had sunk in. I didn't want to hear about Lisa, wonderful as her smile may be. I had just described how I was feeling about Snape. My head was swirling. What did this mean? I pretended to listen to Neville for a while, then encouraged him to go talk to her. He did just that, a goofy smile plastered on his face as he realized his feelings for her.

I couldn't eat. As I left the table, Harry and Ron shooting glares my way, I shot a glance up towards the High Table. Snape was there, picking at his food and not talking, and I felt that tightening in my stomach. I wanted to go up there and talk to him, and hug him, and….

Whoa, wait a second, Granger. Since when did hugging become part of this? I definitely needed to go think this through. I considered going to the library, but the thought of meeting Professor Snape there was too much. I plopped on my unmade bed (the house elves wouldn't touch anything of mine) and lay there in silence.

I thought about Professor Snape. I thought about how horrible he had been to me in the past. I thought about his class, and how frustrated he must be having to see his subject botched every day. I thought about the Dark Mark on his arm, which I had seen back in my third year. I thought about what Harry had told us he had seen in the Pensieve. I thought about why on earth no one cared about his birthday. And then I cried. I cried for Professor Snape, because his was the saddest story I had ever heard. I reached for my pillow, for comfort, and my hand found something tucked underneath.

The picture! The picture of Snape, surreptitiously taken in his sixth or seventh year. Snape, almost smiling. And that was enough to make me smile.