Something to Talk About by Sara Lady Dalian

A/N: This is an immediate continuation of "Man to… Man?" and I suggest you read that story before you read "Something To Talk About." MtM was written from Severus' POV, but this story is from Hermione's POV.

It has taken me quite a while to get this out, and I hope you like it. This is actually three chapters in the original outline, but I couldn't separate them when it came right down to it. Happy reading.

Chapter 7

All they heard was an outraged and furious gasp. All they was the wand tip of the scariest witch in Hogwarts - pointed strait towards them.

"Immobulus!" The word that sprang from Hermione's lips immediately froze her victim – and caused the lucky one to back away. Maybe it was because she had taught him most of his spells but Gryffindor courage apparently didn't include standing up to Hermione Granger when she was in a fury.

"You have gone too far this time Ronald Weasley! Not only have you abused our friendship, put Harry in the middle of this, insulted and threatened Professor Snape – but you've insulted my intelligence! Do you think if anyone had tried a trick like "seducing" me, I wouldn't have seen right through it, that I could be persuaded to do something against my will? But besides that, so what if he had!"

Hermione circled him now. She kept her wand pointed at her still target and the sole object of her attention. Her eyes narrowed. Her breathing quickened. She poked him every few words during her tirade.

"You are very lucky that I don't march you right into the Dark Forest and feed you to Aragog right now! I will tell you this one more time Ronald. My life is my own. You are hereby denied access until you come to your senses and properly apologize."

She came to stand right in front of Ron before she softly muttered "Finite Incatatum". He stumbled out of the paralysis just in time to catch a hard right hand to the side of the cheek. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you but it will be a start." She backed away from the pair of boys who were looking at her with desperation in their eyes.

Neither moved as she left the pitch.

It wasn't until she was halfway back to the castle that she stopped shaking. Her fits of violence came on suddenly, and tended to evaporate just as suddenly. All she was left with now was an empty feeling that came from losing her best friend. It was all so pointless! This would have never have happened if Ron had just talked to her sooner. Then she could have straightened everything out and they could have lived in relative peace. But no, he had to go and be a… well, a Boy!

It was with some relief that she opened the solid wood door leading into the castle. It was secure, steadfast, and resilient. The hinges groaned softly as she pulled the handle enough to slip through the opening. As the door shut behind her, she leaned back upon it and gathered a deep breath.

"Miss Granger."

Somehow she wasn't really surprised.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?" She squared her shoulders and finally opened her eyes after drawing another deep breath.

He smiled a crooked, half smile and indicated an open door off to the side of the entranceway. She didn't remember it ever being there before, but that didn't really bother her as she had long ago given up trying to make Hogwarts Castle conform to any sort of natural physical laws.

The room was a comfortable looking sitting room, decorated in odd bits of furniture, taken from different parts of the castle. She sat in the chair closest to the fire and absently took the cup of tea that came to hover before her. As she sipped, she waited for the Headmaster to say what he wanted to say.

"I would ask you to remember our previous discussion, Miss Granger, about not hexing your fellow Gryffindors." His eyes danced as she huffed at the memory. The morning after Harry faced Quirrell and Voldemort for the Philosophers Stone, Professor Dumbledore had a few words with her about hexing Neville. She had felt guilty about that; she felt no such remorse now. There was no use, really, in denying that she had in fact done just that. But she refused to feel guilty.

"I do seem to recall that discussion, Professor. I do recall agreeing that it was wrong to do – but I don't recall agreeing not to do it again." She smiled at that little bit of semantics.

"Just so, Miss Granger. However, I must ask you to do just that." He looked at her down his nose, over his moon glasses and across his tea cup. She only raised her eyebrows at him. His chuckle surprised her. She thought he would have pursued the matter further. "You may go, Miss Granger."

As she was just about to walk out the door, he spoke again. "Use your time wisely, walk slowly and make sure you know why you want the answer to your question, Miss Granger."

On her way down the stairways leading to the dungeon, she kept replaying the Headmaster's words. That was really the crux of the matter. Why did she care that Professor Snape stood up for her, that he had taken care of her last night and though she understood why Ron's behavior made her angry, why did she sense it had infuriated the Professor? Why?

"There are many reasons why, Miss Granger, but they are none of your business!"

She remembered what he had said to her when she asked that question in the early bits of the morning. She had taken them as a reprimand then, partially because she was still sleep logged, but she needed more of an answer now. Somehow, she had to have it.

As she fought against the tide of students crossing the corridor she felt an unaccustomed urgency. She had to get to him, to see him, to make sure that she hadn't dreamt this strange convolution she was living. She had to make sure he still was there.

The first students that passed by her were unusually chatty for the end of a potions class. It wasn't until she saw some students hobbling towards her, being carried by friends that she realized they were third years. Third years who had botched their modifications on the Blood Thinning potion she had made last night. She smiled at them and told them to go to Madame Pomfrey. Luckily the antidote to the more common problems was painless. In fact, it even had a slight strawberry flavor. She saw them sigh in relief before she continued towards the classroom door. The last of the students were filing out, thankfully. She hadn't looked forward to an audience when she met with the Professor.

He was moving about the tables, clearing away the rest of the botched potions. His hair had fallen around his face and his robe hung off his bent frame. It wasn't until she knocked on the open door that he looked up at her. There was something of resignation about his face as he beckoned her forward. She closed the classroom door and followed him through his office door.