A/N: Hey, sorry this took a bit longer than usual, just been at a lot of horse shows and things. It's getting deeper…

- CHAPTER SIX -

Back to the Hog's Head

Gradually, after her first few lessons, things began to look better for Hermione; she gained the students' respect, and was being treated more openly by the other teachers, except of course, Professor Snape.

Not only was he finding fault in everything she did, but he also seemed to be going out of his way to cause trouble for her. It wasn't as if she had expected any less of him, he had been the one to call her an insufferable know-it-all, but maybe, now that so many things had changed, he might have grown up a bit. So what if she always been zealous about school, did any of that matter any more? But to Severus Snape perhaps it did. She'd thought he'd changed when she met him in Godric's Hollow, but she must have been wrong.

The weekend was greatly appreciated by students and staff; the week's teaching had drained Hermione a lot more than she had expected and as she watched her first-years nervously poking their wands at matchsticks she couldn't help but think of the warm comfy bed she would be able to sink into later that evening.

Of course there was a lot of marking to be done, but Hermione had tried to get as much of it done within the week so that she had finished it all by Saturday morning. Admittedly she had only set two year groups essays, but it was a wonderful feeling of contempt when she walked into the Great Hall for lunch to find several teachers still marking as they ate.

"I expect you've already finished your marking Professor Granger," Snape leered at her as she sat down, putting as he always did, particular emphasis on her title, as if he didn't believe that she could be a teacher.

She turned to him and fixed him with a steely look, "yes I have, and I was thinking of going into Hogsmeade for a drink this afternoon, would you like to join me?"

His expression twisted for a second, whatever retort he had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this, but almost instantly his face regained its cold pallor and his eyes narrowed. "I don't see why not."

She smiled curtly, "I'll meet you in the entrance Hall at three then." She grabbed a Cornish pasty from a platter in front of her and walked back to her office.

"No eating in the -" Filch stopped in front of her, "oh sorry Professor, didn't realise it was you. Can't be too careful though; the filth they leave around here – sweet wrappers … crumbs …"

"Well I'm going straight up to my office; I promise I won't make any mess."

He scowled after her, clearly checking to make sure that she kept to her word. She chuckled to herself and went back quickly to her office. Once she had eaten and tidied her desk, although she had already done it on Friday, she went into her bedroom to find something to wear.

She wasn't sure which would annoy him most; Muggle clothes, or wizards' robes. In the end she settled for a set of crimson robes that accentuated her figure and she brushed her bushy hair back, praying that it would not be too windy outside.

At ten minutes to three she left her office, and went down to the Entrance Hall. And then at precisely three o'clock a figure skulked through the door at the back of the hall, long black robes billowing behind him. He nodded curtly to her, but she noticed it wasn't without a sneer.

"Shall we go then?" she asked brusquely,

"Why not," he walked down the steps and looked out, "what a beautiful day it is." The sky that had looking promising that morning was hastily becoming greyer.

They ignored each other completely on the walk down to the village, both staring pointedly ahead of themselves. Hermione looked at him for a second out of the corner of her eye; he seemed to be watching an owl as it flew over the wall between the school and the village.

"Where were you planning to have a drink?" he asked suddenly, coming out of his reverie.

"Oh, I don't know, the Three Broomsticks?" she looked around where they stood in the street, under the stormy sky. A sharp wind rushed past them, she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and hoped that her hair hadn't exploded too much.

"I prefer the Hog's Head," he said, "quieter crowd."

Hermione couldn't think of anything less comfortable on a blustery day than sitting in the grimy smelly bar of the Hog's Head, but she nodded nonetheless. He set off at once for the pub and she had to follow almost at a run to keep up with his brisk stride. They walked through the door and Hermione immediately pretended to be adjusting her cloak in order to shield herself from some of the stench. Snape however had not seemed to mind; something she guessed came from teaching many inept potion makers, and walked straight to the bar.

The elderly barman was wiping the bar with his long straggling beard, whilst holding a dirty cloth in his other hand. He watched Snape with austere eyes and let go of his beard.

"One Firewhisky please, and …" he looked at Hermione,

"Gillywater," she murmured,

"And a Gillywater." He handed over a few sickles and waited whilst the barman brought out a dusty bottle full of fiery red liquid, and a glass smeared with grimy fingerprints. Hermione took her drink and as soon as they had sat down in the corner of the room pulled her wand out.

"Scourgify," she muttered, drawing her wand around the glass, gradually shifting years of dirt. Snape smirked.

"A bit of dirt never hurt anybody Granger."

"You may well think that, but I don't particularly want to drink out of something that has gone for quite so long without being washed." She sipped from her now sparkling glass.

Snape scowled at her and tipped some of his bottle's burning contents into his mouth. "Isn't it a bit early for heavy drinking?" she asked pointedly,

"Early?" he smirked, "it's never too early for a drink,"

She watched him uneasily as he took another large gulp. She could see the few other people in the bar were looking at him too, with disdain. She hadn't really thought about how he must find it; he had always been on their side, but he had murdered Dumbledore. He was able to go free again, even though he had committed a terrible crime.

"Are you alright?" she asked concernedly, pushing her hatred to the back of her mind for a moment.

"Me? Oh I'm fine, just been murdering a few more famous wizards." He said loudly, spraying people in the vicinity with Firewhisky.

"Shh," Hermione looked around nervously, "I think we ought to go …"

"Go? But we've only just got here," he downed the rest of his drink in own mouthful, his black eyes glittering maliciously. "You can't tell me what to do Mudblood."

She had opened her mouth to say something, but the words couldn't get out. He had called her many things before, but never a Mudblood. The people who had been watching him before all now wore scornful frowns.

"Well, fine then, I'm leaving. If you want to embarrass yourself any more you're welcome to stay!" she picked her bag up and fastened her cloak, and strode out of the door.

She stood in the windy street, her hair stinging her face as it blew in the wind, she heard the door of the pub open and slam behind her. She jumped and turned around. Snape was standing under the doorway brushing dirt from his robes; he looked up and caught her eye, and glowered.

His lips pursed he marched on front of her, black robes fluttering wildly. She ran up ahead of him and stood right in front of him. "What's going on?" she asked,

"Nothing!" He spat maliciously, his eyes blazing.

"Don't be stupid. How long has it been like this?" she grabbed his arm to stop him walking away, to her amazement he did not try to release her grasp, but his whole stature seemed to melt away.

"It's always been like this. Even when Dumbledore was here; he was the only reason I was ever treated civilly. Now I've killed him and nobody could understand how he had trusted me." He hung his head, "I've done things too terrible for you to even imagine, I deserve this."

"No you don't! You saved Harry's life, more than once. You saved him from Voldemort. If you hadn't been there he wouldn't have killed him." Hermione grasped both his arms.

"But Potter died didn't he?" Snape snarled, pulling her hands away. Hermione noticed how smooth his own hands were, and as his touched hers she felt a strange flutter in her stomach. She looked up at him, but he was still raging.

"That wasn't your fault; it was complicated, and nobody knew what was going on." She said calmly, though her eyes were pricked with tears.

His face was so pale it was almost transparent when he whispered, "But it was my fault. I killed him."

Hermione screamed and stepped backwards, her hand over her mouth.

"See, I do deserve it, I murdered the two best wizards of their age; Albus Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived. Well he didn't live long with me there."

Then suddenly Hermione came back towards him and slowly extended her arms, until they encircled him. For a moment he went rigid and stared down at her, but then he relaxed, releasing the built-up tension in his body.

"This is a lot more complicated than I thought isn't it?" she said, breaking away from the embrace.

He nodded, "you're not angry?"

"I'm heartbroken! You killed my best friend. But I'm clever enough to know you wouldn't have done it without a good reason. And I want to know the reason."

A/N: The reason…? Well for once I do actually know the reason, which is unusual for me. Reviews always welcome ;)