Chapter 3

It was already late when Hermione arrived at her room, and she stayed awake well into the early hours of the morning. The sterile, white ceiling of her hotel room was little company while her mind refused to rest, turning over the events of the evening. When Snape had agreed to coffee, she had expected it to be tolerable, moderately in the least. She hadn't anticipated him being charming, or to abandon his typical cynicism.

The easiness that she had experienced while talking with him was unanticipated as well. He paid attention, proving that he was at least polite, unless she had foam on her nose. Hermione smiled at the thought. The simple fact that Snape would find that, of all things, amusing was a window into the man. There was a complicated person beneath that disagreeable façade, and she wanted to find out more. Was it pity that inspired her desire to explore him, or was it genuine curiosity, she deliberated?

If it were possible, he was more pallid than he had been when she had last seen him. Furthermore, he seemed to have lost weight, weight that he didn't have to lose. The most shocking change was his hair, cut short with the top a little longer than the sides, making him nearly unrecognizable. Even so, he still possessed the same chiseled features, and the same bottomless, black eyes that retained the daunting stare that Hermione remembered so well. Though he still looked intimidating, he was reserved in a way that she never thought possible. He seemed timid at times during their conversation. The demeanor of the professor that she remembered did not include the word timid. Hermione thought he feared nothing, and that underlying apprehension she detected intrigued her.

Understanding how difficult the last few years must have been for Snape, she wanted to help, but she wanted something else as well. During their conversation at the cafe, she had thought it more appropriate to gain Snape's trust before asking him to return to London with her. She hadn't discussed her plan with anyone. Therefore, if he declined, no one would be disappointed. Still, she was optimistic that he wouldn't. Snape had the greatest mind she knew of when it came to potions and many other things as well, so she was confident that Harry's last hope was Severus Snape. If he couldn't cure Harry, then no one could. Tomorrow would be a better time to ask, she thought, so that she would have all afternoon, and perhaps all evening, to bring it up.

Then Hermione's thoughts skipped to their goodbye at the café. Snape had taken her hand so kindly, a gesture that struck her as remarkable for the man who had always seemed so callous and unforgiving. With the war now over, perhaps he was free of the stress. Then again, his time in prison may have given him the opportunity to reassess his outlook on life. On the other hand, she was probably over thinking this, just as she over thought everything else in her life. Accepting her last evaluation as truth, she drifted off to sleep.

Dreaming of funerals and weeping Weasley's, Hermione awoke the next morning with a start. The same dream had haunted her for weeks, Harry's death and the aftermath of sorrow. It was easy enough to talk about Harry's condition, she was a healer after all, but to put it into personal terms hurt too much to consider. Simply thinking of it nearly brought her to tears.

Quickly reigning in her thoughts, she hurried to the shower. Since she was considering this a vacation, Hermione hadn't set the alarm. She had almost slept too long as the time was nearing eleven already.

Choosing muggle jeans and a lightweight blue sweater, she dressed in a rush. She checked that she had her wand, and a fair amount of muggle and wizarding money, before leaving for Snape's apartment. The streets were packed. Hermione felt disoriented, having so recently awoken. Most of the people in the street had probably been at work all morning and were on their way to lunch. Feeling a bit guilty for sleeping in, she reminded herself that it was time off from work and worry, so she shouldn't do either.

About fifteen minutes later, she found herself outside Snape's building, jealous that he had found an apartment right on the lake. His building had three floors, and she suddenly remembered that she didn't know his apartment number. The locator spell that she used to find him hadn't been quite that detailed. By exiting the building the previous night, Snape had saved her the trouble of finding out any more information.

Panicking slightly, she backed up to the edge of the street to look up into the windows. The sun was high enough that it obscured many of them, but if she were lucky, Snape would be coming to the window to see if she had arrived.

To her relief and amusement, Snape did pass in front of one of the windows on the third floor. He appeared to be in a hurry, and she didn't think he was wearing a shirt. Smirking at the thought that he had almost overslept as well, she went into the building and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Orienting herself, she deduced that his was the door to the right. His apartment turned out to be number thirteen. How apt, she thought.

She knocked, but there were no sounds coming from within. Worried for a second that she had chosen the wrong door, Hermione was about to run down the stairs to check the window again when the door opened.

"Good morning," she said to the open door.

No one answered. Peering around the door, she didn't see Snape, or anyone else for that matter. Recognizing that he had charmed the door only to admit those he chose, she closed it behind her, and walked to the couch. She was heartened to see his cloak draped across the back.

Snape's apartment was enormous. The entire wall that lined the street was comprised of windows, from the floor nearly to the ceiling, providing a spectacular view of the lake. The sills were filled with potted plants, some even Hermione couldn't identify. The far wall held a small kitchen, complete with an undersized table that had only two chairs. The couch seemed to be in the middle of the great room, set in front of high bookcases that composed the wall to her left. There looked to be room enough behind the bookcases to walk. She assumed that the makeshift hallway this feature created led to the bedroom.

She felt suddenly odd, standing alone in his apartment, as if she were intruding. "Sir?" she called. "The door let me in. I'm going to sit on the couch."

When she sank into well-worn leather sofa, Hermione thought that it was quite comfortable, especially with the plethora of books to admire from where she sat. She was contemplating taking a copy to flip through when Snape appeared from around the wall of books

He was smiling at her when he said, "I'm glad you told me you were going to sit or else I may have worried."

Hermione returned the smile, except that she was smiling at the view. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a long-sleeve, dark green shirt that lay unbuttoned over a white t-shirt. His clothes--coupled with his short hair that looked to be wet from a recent shower--made him look like a completely different person.

Laughing softly, Hermione said teasingly, "I'm sorry. I must have the wrong apartment. I was supposed to meet Professor Snape."

Snape chuckled, "Could you call me something other than Professor? It sounds so odd anymore."

She grinned as she said, "I don't think I can call you Mr. Snape. That sounds worse to me."

"Then call me by my first name, you remember that don't you?" he said with a smirk. "That is only if 'Hey you, English guy' fails to capture my attention," he added as he walked to the windows and began plucking leaves off one of the plants that Hermione didn't know. "We will be leaving in just a moment."

Even though Snape had his back to her, she merely nodded as she giggled timidly at having his permission to call him by his first name. Unnerving her even more was the change in his attire. If she had passed him looking like that in the street, she would have given him a long second glance, not because she recognized him, but for more disconcerting reasons entirely. He looked younger, and the lack of black clothing emphasized his raven-black hair and eyes to a striking degree.

When he finished with the plant, he moved to the table, where he summoned a large cauldron from a cabinet and started a fire beneath it. Realizing she was staring, Hermione turned her attention back to the books in front of her. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that she was attracted to him.

>

As Snape started the potion, he wondered if Hermione knew what he was doing. He dismissed the thought when she didn't question him. In all likelihood, she would have no experience with such things. Besides, the leaves needed to stew almost twenty-four hours before the elixir would be ready, so he had no choice.

Snape was glad to see that she was on time, though he almost wasn't himself. Unable to sleep the night before, he had left his bed to finish the bottle of bourbon before finally dozing off or passing out, he wasn't sure which. His night had been filled with dreams of large empty rooms, where all he could hear were the ominous voices of those he had killed in his life, Dumbledore among them, telling him how little he deserved to be alive.

Waking shortly before eleven, Snape hurriedly showered and downed a potion for his hangover. Luckily, he prepared those in advance nowadays. He assumed that they would need to wear muggle attire and dressed accordingly. Actually, he had still been dressing when he heard the door open for Hermione.

Snape added water to the cauldron and steeped the fire until it came to a rolling boil, adding the leaves all at once. When he reduced the heat, the mixture slowed to a simmer, and Snape was ready to leave.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She started upon hearing his voice. "Yes," she answered sharply.

"What kind of food do you like?" Snape asked

"I'm not picky," she said. "Well, I don't like sushi."

He smiled, "How do you feel about Cajun?"

She slowly shook her head, "Okay, so I am picky."

Snape chuckled, "All right, how about we walk around until you see someplace that suits you."

"That I can do," she replied with a smile.

Snape led the way down the stairs and out onto the street. After about a block, he looked down to speak to Hermione only to see that she was walking a few paces behind.

"I know that I'm your guide," he said, "but that doesn't mean that you have to walk behind me all day. Was I walking too fast again?"

"No," she said as she hastened to catch up, clearing her throat before she stammered, "I was only…um…well…looking."

"Looking at what?" he asked, trying not to laugh at her sudden nervousness.

"The view," she said under her breath before looking up at him and adding, "around."

This time Snape laughed aloud as he said, "Did you leave your brain in the apartment? You really should go back for it before we get too far."

She laughed, "I'll be fine." Then she muttered something else that he couldn't quite hear.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, blushing slightly. "I guess I'm just hungry.

"Then we must get you food," he said dryly, "before you go utterly mad."

Deciding on side-along Apparition since Hermione had no idea where they were going, they left from an alleyway a short walk from the apartment. Snape took them to a designated Apparition point on the Riverwalk.

They journeyed down the street for twenty minutes before at last Hermione chose a diner decorated in a 1950's theme. Selecting a booth, they both ordered a hamburger and fries.

While they waited for their food, Hermione said, "I bet this place takes you back to your childhood."

Snape smirked as he replied, "I'm not that old, thank you."

Hermione was laughing before he had finished the sentence, "I know, you graduated with Lupin, didn't you?"

"Yes," Snape said sarcastically, "and I consider myself lucky."

"Why's that?" she asked.

"I made it out alive," explained Snape.

Hermione giggled softly.

"Is there anywhere in particular that you want to visit today?" asked Snape.

"Not really," she answered, "perhaps a couple of the cemeteries. I understand they're rather impressive."

Snape chuckled as he asked, "You would rather peruse a cemetery than see the French Quarter or Bourbon Street?"

She shrugged, "I want to see all that too, but I saw a book once that had pictures of the crypts here. They were eerily beautiful. I'd really like to see them if we can."

"All right," Snape said. "But you do understand that this makes you creepy."

Hermione grinned as she nodded.

Shortly thereafter, their food arrived. Hermione dug into hers immediately, as though she hadn't eaten in days.

"You are going to get indigestion," Snape advised as he watched her devour her meal.

Hermione held up a finger while she chewed the most recent bite. At last, she said, "It's a bad habit I picked up over the years. Eating takes too long sometimes. Like sleeping for instance, if I'm moving along well with my research or something, I'll stay up until all hours of the night. At times, the only reason I've gone to bed at all is to have a decent excuse to drink lots of coffee in the morning."

Smiling, Snape said, "There is an insomniac in us all."

Hermione finished eating long before Snape. She was fidgeting slightly when he gave up on his food. It seemed lately that no matter how hungry he was, he got full very quickly, or he became nauseated at the thought of eating entirely. He knew it was the liquor, and his guilt, yet he kept reveling in both anyway.

"That's good enough," he said, pushing aside his plate. "If we go back the way we came, there are some very old cemeteries in the Garden District. If I'd known you had a penchant for the macabre, we'd have gone that way in the first place."

Hermione just snickered as she counted out some muggle bills, saying, "I'm buying today, no matter what you say, so don't even try."

Snape smiled as he said, "Well then, I won't charge you for the tour."

After paying the bill, they left and headed back west. Snape glanced down every now and again to see Hermione taking in the city. Her eyes were wide as she admired everything from an old storefront to the old black man who sat out in front of it. Snape had just recently discovered that the man was a wizard. After he told Hermione this, she insisted on talking with the man. Snape listened as she peppered the poor man with questions about what it was like to be a wizard in America.

When she had satisfied her curiosity, they moved on. Just as they walked past the narrow alley where they had Apparated in, a fierce rainstorm deluged them. With nowhere near to seek shelter, Snape grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled Hermione into the small alley, Apparating with her back to Lakeshore Drive. Running the rest of the way to his building, Snape opened the door for the sopping Hermione, who darted into the foyer. As soon as Snape stepped inside, Hermione hit him with a charm, drying his clothes. She repeated the spell on herself, finishing with her hair.

Snape could feel that his hair was still wet. "You missed a bit," he said, pointing to his head.

She smiled shyly before saying, "I like it like that."

Caught off guard, Snape didn't know how to respond. Instead, he changed the subject. "These storms can last all day," he said lowly. "I thought it best if we came back here to wait it out."

"I assumed as much when you yanked me into the alley," she replied. "Then again, you've been doing that a lot lately."

Snape chuckled at her comment, especially since she was right.

"Besides," she went on, "there's something I need to talk to you about anyway."

Without looking at him, Hermione started up the stairs ahead of him. Snape followed, curious as to what she wanted from him. By the time they entered his living room, he had convinced himself that she recognized the plant and was going to confront him about it.

Snape said, "It's not what you think." However, Hermione had said something else at the exact same time.

"What did you say?" they both asked in unison.

They stood quietly waiting for a few seconds before Snape said, "You first."

Smiling shyly, Hermione said, "I want to hire you."

Astounded, Snape asked, "To do what?"

After sighing, she answered, "To try to help Harry. I'll pay you."

Snape didn't know what to say. Of everything that she might have asked of him, he hadn't anticipated that.

Suddenly Hermione asked, "What was it that you said?"

"Oh," he hesitated, "I asked if you would care for coffee."

"I would love some."

The rain was cascading down the windows of Snape's apartment while he stared into her hopeful eyes. Snape would have found the rain soothing if not for the question he had just been posed. He wanted to be mad at her, but he found that he couldn't. If he did possess the knowledge that could help Potter, Snape owed it to Dumbledore to try.

Hermione had started to turn away from him when Snape found his voice, "I can't promise anything."

She laughed nervously as she walked toward the couch, "I'm sure your coffee is fine."

Snape smirked at her misunderstanding. "No," he said, "I'll do what I can for Potter."

Immediately, Hermione spun around, crossed the room quickly, and threw her arms around his neck before he could stop her. "Thank you," she said breathlessly.

Arms stiff at his sides, the sudden gesture baffled him. He noticed right away that her scent was delightful, the mild spice of green tea mixed with honeysuckle. He wrestled with the varying urges to return the hug or to push her away.

Abruptly, she drew away on her own, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I'm a hugger. It's what I do at times like these."

Quickly turning away from her, he said, "It's quite all right. I'll make the coffee now."

Swiftly moving to the kitchen area, he disregarded using magic entirely. He needed the time to calm himself. As he prepared the kettle, he told himself that he had not delighted in the hug at all.

Once he had prepared the two mugs, he was ready to face her again, but when he turned around, he saw that she was nowhere that he could see. Assuming that she had sought out the bathroom, he levitated the couch to turn it toward the windows, something that he did every time it rained.

Once he heard her startled cry, he realized that she had been reclining on the couch, out of sight. He finished the transition, setting the couch lightly to the floor.

Seeing the distress on her face, Snape said evenly, "Sorry about that."

"It's all right," she said in a tense voice as she sat up, still wearing a look of concern. "I'm glad the couch isn't possessed."

When Snape reached the couch, he passed Hermione the other mug, and sat down on the far end of the sofa away from her. That hug had brought back the conflicting feelings from the previous evening. He was embarrassed that she hugged him, but he was also scolding himself for missing the opportunity to hug her back. He stared at the rain spilling down the glass, trying to steal his mind from the thoughts of Hermione, her temptation, as well as what he had just so hastily agreed to. While he longed for the rain to end soon, it was only to shorten her visit. He also wished that she would stop staring at him. He could see her in his peripheral vision, her pleasant face apprehensive. Trying desperately to belie his thoughts, he stared tenaciously out the window. When he saw her open her mouth to speak, he wondered what on Earth she was going to put him through this time.