'Why did he choose you, Hermione?'

'What did you see in Snape's memories?'

'Just how close are you to the professor?'

Hermione pushed through the throng of press, ignoring their obnoxious questions as she made a beeline for the exit.

Almost as soon as his magical handcuffs had been taken off and Kingsley had returned his wand, Snape was out of the courtroom door before the journalists had a chance to scramble out their seats. She couldn't blame him, but it meant that now she was the one to bear the brunt of their questioning. In the chaos after the verdict, she'd gotten separated from Harry and the others; they were now somewhere behind her, separated by a wall of cameras. She heard someone calling her name – she thought it might have been Harry – but she wasn't in the mood to hang around waiting for him to catch up to her, not while hordes of journalists were shoving cameras in her face and making insinuations.

A bulb flashed in front of her. She raised a hand to shield her eyes, and, keeping her head down, she headed straight for the large iron doors, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might look like they wanted a headline out of her. If she was expecting a reprieve from the crowds once she was out of the courtroom, though, she was in for a let-down: the corridors were teeming with people too. Had the whole Ministry come down to hear the verdict?

Through the tumult, she made out a few congratulations and a few jeers – the crowd seemed fairly evenly split between them. She pushed her way through the masses until, finally, she came to the Atrium, where the crowds finally began to thin out, and made for the red telephone box at the far end that served as the visitors' entrance. She slid the door shut just as a group of journalists spilled out of a nearby corridor – luckily, they hadn't clocked her, and a moment later she was out of their line of sight as the telephone box ascended to Muggle London.

She stepped out onto the deserted street, and rounding a corner, ran down a narrow footpath that cut between two tall buildings. Darting behind a stack of boxes piled up outside a shabby back door, she cast a quick Disillusionment charm before letting her head fall against the brick wall, taking a moment to catch her breath.

'Hiding from someone, Miss Granger?'

The low voice almost made her cry aloud in fright. She cast her eyes about: out of the shadows there was a brief shimmer, and the image of Severus Snape came briefly into view before he vanished again. As she gaped, he chuckled, and she felt, rather than saw, him move towards her.

'Merlin, you gave me a scare,' she breathed. 'I thought you'd have Apparated away by now.'

'I was just about to,' he admitted.

At the end of the alley passed a woman in bright pink robes and a feathered hat called behind her, 'This way – I think they went this way!' And as she proceeded to run in precisely the opposite direction Hermione and Snape were hiding, quickly followed by several of her colleagues.

Hermione sighed in relief.

'Want to get away from here?' Snape's voice rumbled in her ear, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. It was unnerving hearing him and not being able to see him.

'I'd say that's a very good idea,' she said as the last of the journalists disappeared from sight. 'Where to?'

'Somewhere far away from here, I think.'

She thought for a moment until deciding on the perfect place.

'I know where.'

She groped blindly around to reach for his arm, until she heard his barely perceptible snort and he moved closer to her and took hers instead. His grip was firm, and warm, reassuring. He was really here, he was really free – for a moment she felt giddy with joy, until she remembered the high price of his freedom. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that – they needed to get away, lest the reporters should return.

Closing her eyes, she pictured their destination in her mind's eye and spun.

oOo

He knew they had landed near the sea from the flavour of the air – that salty, fresh quality he remembered from when he was a boy, although it had been the better part of three decades since he'd last smelled it. He looked around, taking in the rocky cliffs, the purple heather that dotted the coastline, the infinite, azure sea stretching out before them.

'Cornwall?' he said, understanding dawning.

'You said you wanted to go back,' Hermione said with a smile. 'We're on the north coast, a few miles outside of Boscastle. I came here once with my grandparents when I was little.'

She was looking at some point over his right shoulder, and he realised the Disillusionment charm he'd cast in the alleyway was still in effect. With a wave of his wand he cancelled it.

It was a simple spell, but oh how he had missed magic these last weeks.

'I'm sorry, Severus.' She was looking right at him now, a mixture of disappointment and uncertainty on her face.

He frowned. 'Silly woman – I'm free. What more could I have asked for?'

'But the fine. Twenty thousand Galleons!'

Well, yes, there was still that slight predicament. He certainly didn't have the gold right now. His Gringott's vault wasn't exactly empty – after eighteen years of steady employment and few outgoings, he'd saved a decent sum – but he was far from wealthy. Hogwarts professor might be a prestigious job, but the pay was frankly pitiful. He could sell his house in Spinner's End; his father had bought it off the council in the eighties during Thatcher's infamous council house sell-off – one of the few prudent financial decisions he'd made in his pathetic life – but he'd be surprised if the house was worth even a quarter of the value of the fine. And that was assuming he'd even find a seller in twelve months, which wasn't at all guaranteed. Half-dilapidated terraced houses in backwards, desolate mill towns weren't exactly sought after real estate. Still, it would be worth looking into. Where he'd live if he did, he had no idea. Would he be forced back to Hogwarts? Would he have any other choice?

'I'll manage it somehow,' he said in the end.

Her mouth twitched a small smile. 'You're taking it remarkably well.'

'Two days ago I was convinced I was set for Azkaban. Now, in no small part thanks to you, I'm a freer man than I've been in a very long time.'

Seeming satisfied with his answer, her mouth spread into a wide smile. In the short time they'd been standing on this windy outcrop, several chestnut tendrils had been torn free and were whipping about her face, utterly destroying the professional updo she'd probably spent an age perfecting this morning. He smirked as she fought to control it, secretly thinking she looked lovelier than ever.

He was almost terrified he'd wake up any moment to find the last few hours had all been a dream.

'Thank you, by the way,' she began uncertainly, 'for trusting me with your memories.'

The heady buzz of relief that had been with him ever since leaving the courtroom vanished at the reminder of what she'd seen in the Pensieve.

'If you want … I'd understand if … That is, I …' she stuttered, then took a fortifying breath. 'If you wanted to take them back, I'd understand.'

His eyes shot to her face. Take them back … What was she—

'You'd trust me to Obliviate you?' he said in a near whisper as the realisation dawned.

'Yes.'

He simply stared at her in silent confusion.

'Why?'

Her cheeks flushed red and she wouldn't quite meet his eye. 'Because I wouldn't want things to be awkward between us now. I'd never tell anyone anything I saw – I wouldn't be able to if I tried,' she added, referring to the magical bond she'd taken. 'But I know you were against showing anyone at all, and I feel like I rather forced your hand. So if you did want to Obliviate me, I'd understand.' She closed her eyes, the soft lines on her forehead betraying her anxiety despite the calm assurance of her words. 'But if you are going to, I'd rather you get it over and done with.'

He stared at her in shock. She couldn't possibly be serious. Not that there wasn't a little tempted, but when dealing with mind magic even the best-cast spells were wont to go awry. Every Obliviate came with risks. She knew that, and yet there she was, standing before him, her face as open to him as any book, eyes closed in complete trust …

No matter how humiliating it was that she'd seen him grovel at Dumbledore's feet, stripped to his underwear by Potter and Black, his humiliation was not worth the risk to her precious mind.

He uttered a sigh.

'Open your eyes.'

They fluttered open. She looked up at him in question.

'I'm not going to Obliviate you, Hermione.'

He could tell she was trying not to show it, but he caught the relief in the little exhale of breath and the droop of her shoulders.

'Probably for the best,' she said, cutting through the thick tension. 'After six weeks with no magic, you're likely to be a bit rusty.'

Rusty? Him? The infuriating little—

It took him only a moment to realise she was teasing him.

'You doubt my spellcasting?' he said coolly.

She shrugged, a grin playing at the corners of her mouth. 'Well, you always did frown upon foolish wand waving.'

He lifted a brow at that, then cast his eyes about for potential nearby onlookers. A quick Muggle repelling charm later, he lazily flicked his wand.

All around them, scores of small purple flowers detached from the heather bushes dotting the hills, transforming into a thousand tiny butterflies that fluttered in the breeze before flying off out to sea, their shimmering wings reflecting the sunlight.

She turned back to him, grinning. 'Not bad.'

'My apologies,' he purred. 'I should have known that wouldn't be showy enough for your Gryffindor sensibilities.'

Her laugh was a rather indelicate, carefree one – the sort of laugh that six months ago would have irritated him but that now he found endlessly charming. Even more so, since he had been the cause of it.

'So what will you do now?' she asked.

He lifted a shoulder. 'I know I talked of moving to a cottage by the sea, but that doesn't seem likely anytime soon. To be honest, I've no idea what I'll do.'

'You'd always be welcome to stay on at Grimmauld Place if you need to. I know Harry wouldn't mind.'

He snorted. 'And live with Potter full time? You think that wise?'

'Harry will be starting Auror training soon, so he'll hardly be there.'

'Hm. I shall think about it.'

She beamed at him. 'Good. I'd miss you if you weren't there, you know.'

I'd miss you too, he longed to say, but couldn't quite get the words to come. That she saw their friendship continuing beyond today – wanted it, even – filled him with a hope he had no right to feel.

'Just so you know,' she said, 'I'm going to hug you now. So if you want to run away, here's your chance.'

But there wasn't time for him to pull back even if he had wanted to – which, incidentally, was the last thing on his mind. Not when her arms came around his waist and her cheek rested against his chest and she seemed to fit against him so perfectly.

He stood, perfectly rigid, as though Petrified, a few strands of her unruly hair tickling his large nose, his arms hanging uselessly at his side. It was as though he'd forgotten how to move, how to speak, to breathe, overwhelmed as he was by the clean citrus scent of her shampoo and something earthy and unique underneath that was just the unfiltered scent of Hermione.

oOo

He went deathly still at first when she hugged him, and she'd felt awful thinking she'd made him uncomfortable, but then, just as she was about to pull away, he exhaled a breath, and one arm found its way to her lower back, while the other gently rested between her shoulder blades. She smiled against his chest, a little sigh of relief escaping her that she hadn't been too forward after all.

Severus Snape was actually hugging her back!

Alright, he might be fairly awkward about it – his arms were a little stiff and he stopped short of pulling her closer. Clearly he wasn't used to physical affection. Taking pity on him, she loosened her arms, and pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

Inexplicably, she found herself beaming at him. He returned her smile with a vaguely puzzled one of his own, but it was filled with warmth too, his black eyes glimmering with a fondness that suddenly made her cheeks flame and … Were those butterflies in her stomach?

She barely had a moment to investigate the strange swooping feeling in her belly before he drew away.

'We should be getting back,' he said abruptly. 'Everyone will think I've kidnapped you – the Wizengamot will drag me back into that courtroom before I've even had a chance to enjoy my freedom.'

'I wouldn't put it past them,' she said with a laugh, though a part of her felt oddly bereft when he let go of her and moved back.

He held an arm out.

'Shall we?'

She nodded, and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ears and took hold of his offered arm, tucking her hand into the warm crook of his elbow. They spun in the air and together they vanished and reappeared at the base of the steps to Grimmauld Place. She looked between the front door and him.

'You're coming in, aren't you? I know Harry would be glad to see you.'

He seemed uncertain for a moment, then nodded once. Dropping his hand, they ascended the steps together, and as they entered the hallway were met with the sounds of what seemed suspiciously like a party.

'There you are!' exclaimed a familiar voice. They looked down the hall to see a beaming Professor McGonagall coming towards them, holding a goblet in her right hand.

'Well done for finding him, Miss Granger,' she said, then to Snape, 'A part of me thought you might have buggered off to Timbuktu the moment you got your wand back.'

'What's all this?' he asked, nodding to the drawing room, where the sound was emanating from.

'Just a gathering to celebrate,' said McGonagall. 'It was only meant to be a few of us, but word got out and, well, now practically the whole order are here to wish you well.'

Severus looked at Hermione, clearly annoyed. She raised her hands in an innocent gesture.

'I had no idea, I swear.'

McGonagall glanced between them, a look of amusement on her face. He opened his mouth, looking ready to tell them where they could shove their gathering, but McGonagall just laughed.

'Oh, this is one party you're not slithering out of, Severus Snape.'

oOo

Minerva hadn't been lying: practically the entire Order of the Phoenix was gathered in the drawing room, and from the looks of it half of them were in their goblets already.

'Alright, Snape?' came George Weasley's slurred greeting, notifying the rest of the room to his presence, and in the next moment half a dozen Gryffindors descended upon him, clapping him on the back.

'Congratulations,' said Bill after Arthur had let Severus' hand go.

'Ruddy bastards, hitting yer with that fine,' said Hagrid, slapping Severus on the back rather violently and nearly winding him. 'Still, least yet not in Azkaban, eh? An' Hermione,' he added proudly, pulling the girl into an awkward embrace. 'Absolutely brilliant, yeh were.'

'Thanks Hagrid,' she said, blushing prettily and grinning up at the half giant.

'Ever thought about a career in wizarding law, Hermione?' said Bill, and she and the eldest Weasley sibling were immediately drawn into conversation.

After several more handshakes and well-wishes, Severus finally managed to extricate himself from the group and headed to the corner of the room where a table has been set up with several bottles of wine along with trays laden with some rather unappetising vol-au-vents, and homemade cauldron cakes with a strange pinkish-grey filling that looked like something Longbottom had cooked up in the Potions lab.

He was suddenly starving – he hadn't eaten since last late yesterday afternoon, and even then it had just been a sandwich – and was in the act of reaching for a pumpkin pasty that looked safe enough when across the room there was a high-pitched shriek.

Percy Weasley's shock of red hair was sliding off his skull in great chunks and hitting the floor, while both George and Ginevra were in hysterics as their brother desperately and pointlessly grasped at the remaining hair with his left hand. In his right, he clutched a half-eaten pumpkin pasty. Apparently losing his twin had not dented the remaining half of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' love of practical jokes.

Severus put his own pasty back on the tray, then vanished the contents. He'd eat later.

'Hello, sir.'

Turning, he found himself face to face with a pair of unnervingly green eyes.

'Potter.'

'I wanted to say congratulations. And, uh, sorry about all this,' he said, gesturing to the room.

'Mm. Any excuse for a piss-up, eh?' Severus remarked.

The boy quirked a grin. 'Yeah,' he said, then lowered his voice. 'Listen, about the fine, I'm happy to pay—'

'No.'

'But I hadn't even—'

'I won't be your charity case, Potter,' he cut in, and to his surprise the boy seemed to let it go.

'Alright,' he said with a shrug. 'I'll be honest, I half expected you to say that. On to my next offer then. Hermione says you might need a place to live for the foreseeable, so I just want to let you know you're welcome to stay here as long as you need. Not as a charity case,' he added quickly. 'Frankly, I don't intend to stay here much longer, and Mrs Weasley's offered to put me up at the Burrow once I start Auror training, so once Hermione's back at Hogwarts it'd just be you and Remus. I intend to sell this place at some point, so, I'd be happy to work out a deal where you help do the place up in lieu of rent. Frankly, you'd be doing me a massive favour.'

The deal was intriguing, and he had to admit quite generous really.

'I'll consider it,' he said, then after a pause, 'Thank you.'

'Least I could do,' he said with a shrug, then added, 'I'm glad you're free, sir.'

oOo

'So,' said Ginny, 'what are you going to do with yourself now you don't have to spend your days with the grumpy old Potions master?'

The younger girl may have finally come around to the fact Snape had been on their side, but apparently it was a stretch too far to believe anyone would want to be friends with him.

'Well, I suppose I'll finally have time to focus on schoolwork,' said Hermione, adding anxiously, 'I have so much catching up to do.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Hermione, there's six weeks to go before the new year begins! And you've just helped win a war – don't you think you deserve a bit of time off?'

'That would be lovely, but after a whole year away from academics I don't want to take anything for granted – I haven't so much as even looked at an Arithmantic equation for months!'

'You'll be fine,' said Ginny kindly, as she rolled her eyes. 'I think we both know you could have sat your NEWTs in fifth year and passed them all.'

Hermione blushed and took a sip of her Gillywater cocktail. She knew if she disagreed with Ginny's statement it'd only be interpreted as false modesty.

'It'll be nice us being in the same year now,' said Ginny.

It would be, Hermione thought. Strange, too, though. Hermione had already been one of the oldest in her year – she and Ginny might be only a year apart at school, but chronologically, she was almost two years older than her, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel the age gap at times. At least Neville was returning as well, so there would be someone from her own year there.

'Do you know who'll be teaching DADA?' asked Ginny.

Hermione shook her head. 'No, I've not heard anything.'

'I thought Snape might take the job for good this time. Seeing as he's always wanted it, and with Voldemort dead, I assume the position's not cursed anymore.'

She glanced over to the fireplace, where Snape was seated on the sofa conversing with Remus and Professor McGonagall. 'He hasn't said anything about it, but I can't imagine he'd want to.'

'You think he'll go back to Potions?' said Ginny, surprised.

'I don't think he plans to go back at all. Anyway, Professor McGonagall says Slughorn's returning for at least one more year, but even if the job was available I don't think he'd want it.'

'Hm. I suppose at least I've got a better chance at passing my Potions NEWT with Slughorn taking it.'

Hermione was about to launch into a defence of Snape as a far superior Potions instructor than Slughorn, but before she could get started a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her from behind, squeezing tight. She immediately froze, taken back to the night in the woods when they'd been captured by Snatchers and she'd been in Greyback's clutches.

'Alright, Hermione?'

'Ron!' she gasped, and spun in his arms to find her boyfriend watching her expectantly, with an uneasy, lopsided smile. 'Don't do that!'

'What?'

'That! Creeping up on me and – oh, never mind,' she stopped herself. They hadn't seen each other for weeks – was their first conversation really going to be yet another argument?

'Did you miss me?' Ron said expectantly.

'Of course!' she said, since she knew 'To be honest, I've been far too busy to give you much thought' would come across a little insensitive. What the bloody hell was wrong with her that she wasn't happier to see her own boyfriend? The public nature of their reunion wasn't exactly helping. She looked back at where Ginny had been moments before, only to find she'd vanished. Then her eyes were once again drawn to the black-clad figure over on the sofa by the fireplace. His back was to her, so presumably he hadn't seen Ron approach or embrace her. Though why that should be remotely of concern was a mystery to her.

'How are you?' he asked. 'I bet you're glad all the trial stuff is over. You were great in there, by the way. Really showed up that Marchbitch woman.'

The compliment might have landed better if it hadn't been delivered with a casual insult to the Chief Warlock, but she let it go.

'I've been well,' said Hermione. 'And yes, relieved it's all over. How about you?'

'Yeah, good actually,' he said. 'It's been nice being at mum and dad's. I've been spending a lot of time with Bill and Charlie, just hanging out, you know.'

'That's good,' she said, squeezing his arm,

'Hey, fancy a bit of privacy?' said Ron, drawing her attention back to him, and giving her hand a squeeze.

She smiled up at him. 'That would be good,' she said, and grasped his hand tighter. 'Let's go to the library. We can talk there.'

oOo

Severus had spent the last five minutes treated to the nauseating display of Minerva cooing over Teddy Lupin as she bounced the child on her knee. Really, what was it about babies that turned even the most intelligent, rational people into babbling idiots? He glanced about the room, but there was no sign of the one person it would be a chore to converse with.

How long was one obliged to spend at one's own Congratulations on Dodging Azkaban party before it wouldn't be rude to excuse oneself? Not that he had ever bothered himself with seeming rude before, but then half of the people here had just stood up for him in court, and it would be ungracious to spurn them after a mere twenty minutes. He could probably plead off with a migraine in half an hour or so – it wouldn't be unbelievable, given the few days he'd just had.

He was planning his exit when a loud voice rang out, aghast, from across the room.

'Is that Malfoy?'

Severus snapped his head around. Bill and George Weasley were peering out the curtains onto the street.

'What's he doing here?' said George with a frown.

Severus crossed the room. A quick glance out the window confirmed that Lucius Malfoy was sitting elegantly on a bench in the gated park across the road, his eyes scanning the façade before him. Of course he couldn't see Grimmauld Place, since the Fidelius charm was still in place, but being well-connected to the Blacks, he knew perfectly well where the house was located.

Bill Weasley drew his wand from his pocket as his eyes roamed the area, presumably for signs of Death Eaters. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, slightly offended on Lucius' behalf – did Bill really think Lucius was stupid enough to lead an attack on the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix mere weeks after he'd been cleared of any wrongdoing in the war?

'Put your wand away,' he said dismissively to the eldest Weasley sibling. 'He's not here to attack anyone.'

He strode from the room, out the door and stood on the steps a moment, taking a few seconds to observe his old comrade in a way he hadn't been able in the courtroom. He was wearing dark-purple robes, and his hair was slicked back, and he sat with a haughty expression as he observed a group of nearby Muggles as they clambered out of a black London cab. He looked as regal as ever, and better than Severus had seen him in years. One would never guess he'd just been through a war.

He crossed the street to the park.

'Lucius.'

The blond man looked up and blinked in surprise at Severus, who, from his perspective, had just appeared out of thin air.

'Severus,' he greeted as he rose. 'How are you?'

He had no time for niceties. 'What is your purpose here?' he demanded.

Lucius smirked. 'Good to see you too, my friend. I came to offer my congratulations.'

'Mm. No thanks to you.'

'I did what I had to to secure my family's freedom, and I won't apologise for it. Still, it all worked out for that best. No hard feelings, I hope?'

He snorted – though in reality, he didn't really blame Lucius for his actions. No doubt Severus would have done the same, if the roles had been reversed and he'd had loved ones to protect. He glanced towards the house; he had a sneaking suspicion they were being watched through the drawing room window by overly curious Weasleys. He gestured for Lucius to join him walking along the path that wound around the park.

'How are Narcissa and Draco faring?' he asked.

'As well as one might expect, in a world that won't let them forget their mistakes.'

Mistakes you dragged them into, he thought. He would never forget the terror on Narcissa's face when she'd come to him two summers ago begging him to protect her only son. Narcissa, bigoted and blood-proud as she was, would never have joined the Dark Lord's ranks if it hadn't been for Lucius, he was sure of that. She just didn't have the temperament for war.

'Send them my best, will you?'

'I will,' said Lucius. 'You surprised us all, Severus,' he added, looking him up and down as though he were seeing him for the very first time. 'It seems my sister-in-law was right about you all along.'

'Much consolation for her, I'm sure,' Severus said drily.

Lucius' mouth twitched. He glanced again towards the house. 'I suppose I shall have to get used to seeing a lot more of the Granger girl.'

Severus' heart stalled, and his head snapped towards the other man.

'I must admit,' Lucius said with a smile, ignoring Severus' reaction entirely, 'I've wondered about it ever since the girl came to see me. I know you seem to have an unfortunate predilection for Muggle-born Gryffindors, but at least Evans was a looker.'

'What do you mean she came to see you? When?'

'Ah, you mean she didn't tell you?' said Lucius with a lifted brow. 'My, my, what a fascinating twist. Your Miss Granger paid me a little visit not too long ago, to ask for my help with taking down the Wizengamot a notch or two.'

He stared blankly at the other man for a few seconds until, finally, it clicked. Lucius had been the one to leak the information about the Muggle-born trafficking rings and the Wizengamot's unfortunate involvement in it. Several high-profile members who had been vocal advocates for sending Severus straight to Azkaban had lost their seats because of it. He was almost certain that had been a significant part of the reason he'd walked out of that courtroom chain-free.

'You were the anonymous source,' Severus stated.

'Of course,' said Lucius. 'Who else would it have been?'

Now he thought about it, that scandal had Lucius' name written all over it. He should have guessed at the time, but frankly he'd had other things on his mind. But what on earth had Hermione been thinking going back to Malfoy Manor after what she'd endured there, and after he'd specifically instructed her not to do any campaigning alone? There were still Death Eaters on the loose, for heaven's sake!

'Of course, your little girlfriend had no idea about any of it. And don't worry, there's no chance of tracing anything back to her.'

Severus winced. 'She is not … There is nothing between us, Lucius. The very idea is absurd.'

'Is it?' Lucius purred with lifted brow. 'The girl willingly returned to the place where she'd been viciously tortured and almost killed, for the chance to see you free. If that's not love then it's a very close approximation.'

'You are mistaken,' he said, his mouth suddenly parched.

'Perhaps,' said Lucius, looking highly amused. 'Although I notice you don't deny you have feelings for the girl.'

'I do deny it!' he snapped.

'Mm, a little too vehemently I think.'

'Lucius,' he growled in warning, and the other man held his hands up in defeat and laughed.

'I'm toying with you, old friend,' he said. 'Whether you do or not is of no importance to me. I'll only say Narcissa and I have long wished to see you paired off, and if she's your choice, then so be it – at least she's halfway intelligent. Even if she is a …'

Severus gritted his teeth and shot him a warning look.

'… Gryffindor,' Lucius finished.

'Was there anything else you wanted?'

'Don't worry,' said Lucius as they completed the loop and came to a stop. 'I shan't keep you from your new friends much longer. I expect you'll be moving back to Spinner's End now?'

'I am … as yet undecided.'

'Back to Hogwarts?'

Severus snorted. 'Hardly.'

Lucius' eyes flew to the row of houses across the street. 'Don't tell me you're staying here?' At the expression on Severus' face, he laughed out loud. 'Good heavens! Well, rather you than I, that's all I can say.'

Still laughing, he spun and disappeared, leaving Severus standing alone in the park, Lucius' words ringing in his mind, tantalising him, taunting him …

If that's not love, then it's a very close approximation.

Damn the man for even putting the thought into his head!

There was no way … It was totally, entirely out of the question, laughable even. And yet …

No. Don't even go there. It's not worth it.

He'd been down this road before, and it was not one he intended to travel again.

But even as he told himself this, his treacherous mind conjured up the image of Hermione on a clifftop pulling him into an embrace, and for a moment his heart, against the better judgment of his head and of his sense, dared to wonder whether perhaps his sentiments were not so one-sided after all.

Damn hope! When had it ever served him, when had it ever led to anything other than heartache and sorrow?

Lucius didn't know Hermione, he didn't understand the noble, self-sacrificing Gryffindor instinct that would have led Hermione to Malfoy Manor. Of course he'd read into it more than what was there – it was the only explanation that made sense to his Slytherin way of thinking.

Whatever it was, it wasn't love, Severus knew that much. Not on her side, certainly, and not on his either. One couldn't fall in love in six weeks. It was impossible.

You loved Lily from the moment you saw her.

He snarled at that voice, and kicked at a pebble that had strayed from the path onto the lawn.

It was hardly a fair comparison. He had loved Lily then, in a strange sort of way, but he certainly hadn't fallen in love with her at nine years old. That part had come on so gradually, had matured as he had, to the point where, looking back, it was hard to pinpoint quite when the platonic love for his best friend had matured into an adolescent appreciation of her prettiness, and from there to total and utter infatuation.

With Hermione, whatever it was had hit him like a Bludger to the gut. He hadn't even liked her six weeks ago. Which was one of the many reasons he didn't trust it. An infatuation so quickly arrived at could be just as easily abandoned; he'd seen it a thousand times among the students.

Was it lust he felt for her then? Just a natural physical desire for an attractive young woman he'd spent considerable time with? Labelling it so made it sound cheap, grubby, when it didn't feel that way at all.

Besides, since his brush with death, he hadn't experienced any stirrings down there. Not even a twitch. Although, truthfully, it had begun long before that – shortly after the time he'd re-joined Voldemort's ranks. Not that it had made much difference; he'd been well used to celibacy anyway, and it hadn't seemed that much of a loss, except perhaps the stress relief of a quick, solitary wank at the end of a long week teaching dunderheads and deceiving a mass-murdering, megalomaniacal Dark wizard.

Suddenly weary, he ran a hand over his face. Conscious that he had been out here a long time already, he headed back to the house, where from the drawing room came the sounds of laughter and music. The Wizarding Wireless was on; Celestina Warbeck was singing at full volume about her Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, and someone was singing along – George Weasley he assumed, judging from the exaggerated tones and the hilarity that followed.

A dark scowl stole across his face. What in Merlin's name was he still doing here? Lucius was right – he did not belong with these people. He was not one of them, had never been one of them. For years he had spied on their behalf, risking his life in the process, and not one of them had given him the benefit of the doubt when he'd apparently betrayed them, every single one of them oh-so-ready to believe the worst of him.

Except one, a little voice reminded him. She had had her suspicions.

Hope bloomed anew within him, and this time he couldn't seem to stamp it out.

Just then, a flicker of light at the end of the hall caught his eye. He noticed the door was ajar, and a warm glow emanated from the gap, seeming to beckon him to the refuge within.

His heart began to beat wildly. The library – of course that's where she would be.

He was moving down the hall before he was even consciously aware of deciding to. If he could simply look upon her face and read the emotion in her eyes – she was always such an open book – he felt he would know. Just one look, one word …

He reached out a hand and pushed the door open.

Her back was to him, her frame perfectly outlined in the dim light from the fire behind her. With the noise of the party going on down the corridor, she hadn't noticed him enter.

Her companion, however, very much had.

Ron Weasley's eyes fluttered open, even as he covered Hermione's lips with his own. A look of surprise was quickly followed by something resembling triumph, and his hands tightened possessively around her waist.

That little ball of hope that had been swelling under his heart shattered at once, like a crystal goblet dropped from Hogwarts' highest tower. Only with great effort did he manage to maintain a bored expression.

Weasley deepened the kiss, his eyes never wavering from Severus' as his hand wandered down Hermione's side.

You'll never have what I have, his eyes seemed to say.

Hermione let out a small whimper as the redhead's fingers brushed the curve of her hip, and the sound was like a sharp dagger to Severus' heart. He was sure a Crucio would have been less painful. He felt his upper lip begin to curl as he could no longer conceal his disgust. He would take no more of this. He wrenched himself away.

Fool, fool, fool …

How could he have forgotten her boyfriend?

Because she never talked about him, that's why. He had been under the impression they were over, after the fight that had driven him from the house those weeks ago, but clearly he'd been mistaken. From the looks of it they were very much together.

Of course she should prefer Ron Weasley, the young, strapping Quidditch player, who had the jovial nature and boyish charm any young woman of her age would want. What madness had come over him to think he had even a hope of a chance? What pitiful delusion?

He was just a sad old man who had grown far too fond of a girl who had shown him some kindness, who had taken pity on him and made him briefly into a cause because she'd needed something to do. Oh, she might claim they were friends and that she would miss his presence, but he knew deep down their friendship would always have an expiration date. She was bright and fierce and full of life and he was jaded and weary and used-up. Once she made her way into the world, her life would become rich and full, and she would forget her short-lived friendship with her old Potions Master. She would think upon this summer as a strange interval between two halves of her life, and he would be no more than a brief footnote in it.

He felt like he was going to throw up. He could not rid his mind's eye of the image of them embracing, of Weasley running his hands over Hermione's curves – curves which had not so long ago been pressed tantalisingly close to Severus himself. He longed to march back into that library and tear the wretched boy's hands from her. She deserved so much more than that imbecile.

Who does she deserve, Severus? You? Don't make me laugh – why would she ever want anything to do with you?

Oh, he knew this feeling, this searing, intense jealousy – it was unnervingly familiar, even though it had been many, many years since he'd last felt it.

The final coda of that damn Warbeck song played out, and a round of delighted applause at George Weasley's performance followed.

In that moment, two things became abundantly clear to him:

That he had very probably … almost certainly … gone and fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

And that he needed to get the fuck out of this house.

oOo

As Severus Snape stormed, batlike, through the hall of Grimmauld Place, Harry Potter instinctively flattened himself against the wall of the small alcove at the top of the stairs that led up from the kitchen. He and Snape might be on slightly better terms these days, but he still wasn't going to risk interrupting the professor when he was in a mood. As Harry steadied his breath, trying to hold steady the tray of butterbeers he was carrying, Snape came to an abrupt stop in the entrance hall. Harry couldn't see his face from his vantage point, but it was clear the man was in a terrible mood. Snape hovered in the entrance hall for about half a minute, seemingly engaged in some great internal conflict, before in one sudden and violent motion he swept out the front door.

Harry blinked, wondering what the hell that was all about.

A moment later, the door to the library opened and out came Ron and Hermione, hand in hand. As his two best friends reached the entrance to the drawing room, Ron pulled an unsuspecting Hermione into a deep, rather passionate kiss. After a second she pulled back and thumped him on the shoulders.

'Ron, not here!'

But Ron just grinned and shrugged and grabbed her by the hand, leading her back into the party.

An odd thought niggled at Harry's mind, like a Nargle infestation one couldn't quite shake off.

The war with Voldemort might be over, but something told Harry Potter there was still plenty of trouble yet to come.

So ends this tale. Part 2 will be posted shortly, so watch this space.