a/n - Thank you all for the reviews! They are always so fantastic. Hope you enjoy this bit as well.

Chapter 4

As Hermione observed Snape staring vacantly out the window, she thought that perhaps she could successfully pretend nothing happened.

"Your hair is almost dry," she tried to say indifferently.

Looking startled, Snape replied quietly, "It dries faster since it's shorter."

"Why did you cut it?" she asked.

"It seemed like the thing to do," was his chilly reply.

His gaze didn't waver from the rain-soaked windows. Hermione examined his empty expression for a few minutes before refocusing on her coffee. It was quite good, but it wasn't taking away the chill that had settled upon her.

When they had left his apartment earlier, Hermione lagged behind, only for a second, to admire the man she had never seen in anything besides robes. Unfortunately, he caught her. That had been embarrassment number one for the day.

After they got drenched in the rain, she decided to leave his hair wet for her own amusement, assuming he wouldn't notice. Then, when he did notice, her stupid brain had to go and be honest. That was embarrassment number two.

Just then, she resolved to ask Snape about Harry at the first opportunity, simply to get it out of the way, before she made anymore of a fool of herself.

When Snape agreed to her proposal, she was so relieved that she did what came naturally. She hugged him, and she knew it had been the wrong thing to do when his shoulders went rigid.

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she hid on the couch, hoping he would be unaffected. Now, an eerie silence, no doubt induced by her spontaneous embrace, permeated the room. The more time that passed, the more uncomfortable the silence became.

Taking a fleeting glance, Hermione saw Snape still staring indifferently into the rain. After nearly half an hour, she was ready to try almost anything to put an end to that stare.

"All right," she said as gently as possible, "so I hugged you. Could you please get over it?"

Her statement had the desired affect. Snape turned to face her, his expression mixed. His eyes appeared stunned, but his face looked upset.

His voice deep and somewhat menacing, he said, "It is very selfish to assume that your absurd display is what I am thinking about."

Snickering, she said, "Selfish? You're the one sitting there like a statue. What are you thinking of then?"

Snape frowned before taking on a poised sneer as he said, "That is none of your concern. You think, after I agree to return to the city that shunned me to treat a nearly hopeless case, that I'm stuck on a ridiculous hug?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, smirking as she did so. This was the chance that she needed to remedy the situation. "As you just said, you're coming to London, so you will be working with me. Aside from my rambling, you're going to have to get used to being hugged. I'm adding that as a stipulation of our deal."

His brow furrowing, Snape asked, "What deal?"

Hermione grinned mischievously, "I will only pay you if I'm allowed to hug you, if and when I feel the need, should the mood strike."

A smile was sneaking into Snape's glare as he asked, "You've been joking this entire time?"

"Maybe," Hermione said casually.

"You've caused me to waste precious energy defending myself?" he challenged.

"Clearly," she answered haughtily.

His eyes narrowed, and there was a definite smirk on his lips as he said, "I don't know what to think of you anymore."

"Before you start thinking on that, Severus," she goaded, putting all the emphasis on the use of his first name while she held out her cup, "I need more coffee."

Snape chuckled faintly as he said, "It's about time someone told you that you are extremely demanding."

Hermione displayed a wicked grin before saying, "It's about time someone told you that my cup does not look to be refilling itself."

Laughing quietly, Snape took her cup, and headed for the kitchen. Hermione heaved a sign of relief. She had been serious, until Snape made her realize how silly the thought had been.

Snape returned quickly. As he handed back her cup, he said silkily, "There you are my liege. Do you require anything else?"

Giggling, she waved a hand and said, "That will be all."

"Very good," he replied as he reclaimed his place on the sofa.

The change in the mood was palpable, the awkwardness all but gone.

"The storm hasn't let up at all," Hermione observed

"Yes, it is spectacular." Snape muttered something else, apparently to turn off the lights.

The room was plunged into nothing but the grey light of the leaden sky. Hermione marveled at the massive windows, now glowing like a movie screen in the darkened room. The rain was racing down the glass in meandering rivers, swaying with the pitch of the wind. It was a turbulence of shapes, like an artist's canvas, transforming with the whim of each masterful brush stroke.

The rhythmic murmur of the falling rain was beautifully soothing, clearing her mind of the worries of the day. Hermione closed her eyes, allowing the sound to take over. Very tenderly, Snape's voice entered the void the rain's song had created. She kept her eyes shut, reveling in his vibrant baritone.

"This is purification," he muttered, "as though the heavens have freed their tears to wash away the sins of civilization. As the rain drenches the earth, it restores the life that living has assailed. It replenishes, and by doing so, sustains us for another day."

Hermione opened her eyes. Snape had relaxed, reclining his head onto the back of the sofa. The look of peace he owned in that moment was incredible. His eyes were shining with an understanding, as though the very purpose of existence was contained within those vitreous pools of black.

Slowly, he turned his head and met her gaze. His moonless eyes excited her as they peered. Then again, they made her want to run. If he stared much longer, she would live to regret something. What that something was, her mind was unable to specify just then. Her conscience was swimming under his piercing gaze, yet trying to tell her not to act on what she was feeling.

Lazily, he returned his stare to the windows. She realized her pulse was rapid. Closing her eyes to calm herself, she sought to make sense of the flooding emotions that had just overwhelmed her.

"I'm rather fond of these storms," Snape said distantly.

She only nodded as she came to terms with what she had experienced. If he had stared a few seconds more, she would have probably kissed him.

>

Enjoying the storm, and again enjoying the company, Snape had finally found repose. When he observed Hermione, he thought she was as well.

He had been startled when she called him on his anxiety about the hug. The only thing he could do to save face was deny it. Fortunately, she was only being facetious.

Snape felt much more at peace, the cadence of the downpour adding to his tranquility. That tranquil mood had allowed his vision to linger on Hermione, taking in the smooth lines of her face, the subtle fullness of her lips. Her large eyes, the color of polished copper, gazed back, and he thought he saw something flicker within them. Was she intrigued by him, he wondered? Then again, had his stare discomfiting her? Snape didn't allow that thought to trouble him. The ambiance of the early afternoon was granting him a rest from his typically disappointing existence.

"Um…sir…I think I should go," said Hermione.

Crooking his head toward her, he saw that she looked concerned. "Why?" he asked, "Is there somewhere you must to be?"

"No," she replied abruptly. "I don't want to impose."

"It is no imposition," Snape said as he smiled. "But if you would prefer to spend such a magnificent afternoon in seclusion, then you know how to Apparate."

Her eyes darted quickly about the room before returning to his, "If you're sure my being here doesn't bother you."

"Not in the least," he said, looking back to the storm. It was only a very small lie. Her presence wasn't bothersome, though it was fascinating.

"Do you mind if I read?" she asked.

"Do you plan to read aloud?" he asked with a smirk.

"No," she giggled.

"Then I don't mind," he answered dryly.

The storm persisted. Snape spent the next couple of hours shifting his gaze between the windows and Hermione as she read. Out of the corner of his eye, he studied her sitting with her legs folded beneath her with her nose inches from the page.

Once she finished with the book, she challenged him to a game of wizard's chess. Snape happened to have an old set, and he quickly questioned why she had suggested the game. She was actually quite terrible at it. After her third miserable lose, the sun was starting to set, and she proposed they order dinner.

Hermione called for delivery from a Chinese restaurant. It was the first time Snape had ever been involved in using the payphone in his apartment building. He told Hermione that he didn't know where to find a phonebook, but she said it was not a problem. To his amazement, there was a phone number to call to obtain other phone numbers. The things non-magic people thought up.

Snape listened intently while Hermione filled him in on Harry's treatment history over dinner. Harry had already received a comprehensive series of therapies, but Snape was compiling a mental list of the therapies that they had yet to attempt.

"Would you like a drink?" Snape asked Hermione as she helped him clear the table.

"Sure," she said. "What do you have?"

"Bourbon," he smirked.

"Occasionally, huh?" she smiled back.

He shrugged as he retrieved the bottle from the refrigerator, along with two glasses. When he turned back, he saw Hermione had returned to the couch.

"I can't believe it's still raining," she said as Snape crossed the room.

He chuckled as he again turned off the lights, casting the room into the amber glow from the street lamps below. "Such is life on the Delta," he said.

Pouring their drinks, he handed one to Hermione as she spoke.

"It reminds me of Hogwarts when it used to rain for days on end."

"Yes," Snape replied. "I believe all those years in the dungeons inspired my love of windows. It is incredibly difficult to watch rain through stone."

Hermione laughed before saying in a solemn voice, "Can I ask you something, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He chuckled, "In that case, I suppose."

She took a large sip from her glass before she asked, "Why did you become a Death Eater?"

Shocked by her candor, Snape's hand automatically went to his left forearm. Even through the fabric, he could feel the Dark Mark that remained etched into his skin as a constant reminder of his immense stupidity.

"You would ask that question," he said quietly as he rubbed his arm. "The one so complicated to answer."

"You don't have to," she said quickly. "I've just always wondered."

"It's a fair question," he sighed, surprised by his own desire to explain.

He took a deep breath before continuing, "As you are well aware, my father was a muggle and my mother a witch. Shortly before my seventeenth birthday, my father succeeded in what he had worked towards throughout my childhood. He killed my mother, more by accident than anything. I don't think he fully intended to, and I don't know why she never fought back when it would have been so simple. Although, if I had been there…"

Hermione's gasped as his voice trailed off, her eyes wide, "I had no idea."

"You wouldn't," Snape said gravely. "I was at school at the time, and Dumbledore took care of everything. Somehow, he managed to keep it out of the papers, and made sure that my father ended up in a muggle prison. I still had to finish school, so I stayed in my parent's old house alone during the summer before my seventh year. Lucius Malfoy visited me that summer, and brought with him the idea of joining Voldemort after we graduated."

He paused to laugh mirthlessly, "We were brooding teenagers who liked to talk of being evil, but we had never discussed actually going through with it in our adult lives. Nonetheless, I was young, and downright foolish, so I agreed. I thought the Dark Lord could offer me the revenge that I sought. Two years and countless sins later, Voldemort suggested I go to Dumbledore to seek a job, enabling me to act as spy. That was three months before the attack on the Potters. Just so you're aware, I wasn't a party to those murders, but I did impart the information that sealed their fate."

Hermione nodded with her mouth lightly agape. He hesitated as the memory washed over him before resuming the story.

"That very night," Snape said, "Voldemort told me the names of the people whom he believed to be involved in the prophecy. I realized then just how irresponsible I'd been. I begged Voldemort to delay, to reconsider killing a child who may well not even be the one involved in the prophecy. However, he simply laughed at me, saying I was weak, and that I needed to see the greater good the murder of the child would serve. In the end, Voldemort said he would wait, to give me time to research the prophecy further, but he added that many more people would have to die before he became all-powerful. He reminded me that I would be in his service forever because of my misdeeds. Then, right before he hit me with the Cruciatus curse, he told me I should have thought about the consequences of my actions prior to becoming a murderer."

Hermione gasped profoundly.

"I assumed you already knew that," Snape said dolefully as he attempted to swallow the lump that has risen in his throat. "They were Muggles mostly. Usually people who I felt had wronged me in some way. There were only a few times a curse from my wand was directly responsible. Still, I was the one who suggested we attack them. I was the reason they--and sometimes their families--died for nothing."

Refilling his glass, he downed it quickly, hoping it would ease the nasty surge of guilt. Hermione's face was pale, staring fixedly at him, clearly waiting for him to go on. Purging the information also seemed to be lessening the burden, so he continued.

"Anyway, that night I made the decision to take the information to Dumbledore, to put a stop to the senseless slaughter of innocents. The next day I was in Dumbledore's office. It was as if every stitch of guilt that I had ever felt came crashing in at once. I know Dumbledore saw it, all the pain, and the guilt. I was a dreadful Occlumens then. He listened, and he forgave me, something I didn't think possible. That night, Dumbledore appointed me potions master, to begin at the start of the next term. I recounted to Dumbledore everything I knew. Before he would allow me to return to Voldemort, Dumbledore trained me in Occlumency and Legilimency for my protection. Unfortunately, after I had pled for the lives of the Potters, Voldemort didn't trust me with any further details."

Snape paused to sip his drink. His throat was becoming dry. He hadn't spoken that much since he had been at Hogwarts.

"My greatest regret is that I didn't know Peter Pettigrew was Death Eater," Snape said sadly. "If I had known that one tiny piece of information then everything would have been different. Instead, Lily and James still died, and Voldemort vanished. I believed Sirius to be the spy, just as everyone else. I was also ignorant enough to believe that Voldemort had actually been defeated. I asked Dumbledore to let me tell all the names, to put as many in Azkaban as possible. I would have confessed every transgression, spent the rest of my days in prison, if it meant stopping men like Lucius. However, Dumbledore wanted me to remain silent, in case he ever needed me to return to the fold. Instead, he testified on my behalf, allowed me to keep my job, and treated me as a friend. Moreover, he trusted me, and I was a better man for it. The following years were the most stable I'd known," he smirked, "that is, until Potter showed up."

Hermione's eyes were still wide as she said, "And then Voldemort returned."

Snape nodded while he took another sip before continuing, "Going back to that life was torturous. Dumbledore prepared me as best he could, but nothing can prepare you entirely. When it all came down, I wondered if it was worth it. I definitely wondered that when Dumbledore told me to kill him if I had to. That was the most absurd thing I ever heard. I told myself I would never go through with it. I would have rather died, but Dumbledore thought that I was more important to the war than he was. I thought that he was crazy." Snape paused to chuckle grimly, "Then Draco, the moronic little prick, forced my hand. I would certainly have liked to be the one who shoved him through the archway at his execution. What a shame it was I had to miss it." His voice rough, he finished, "You know the rest."

Hermione was very still, her breathing shallow. As she stared at him, Snape prepared himself for her reaction, her certain disgust.

She breathed deeply before she said, "I can't imagine how difficult that all must have been."

Snape hadn't expected that, and he didn't know how to respond, so he picked up the bottle to refill his glass, and offered it to Hermione.

She took it and added to her drink before saying, "Thank you for telling me that. It can't be a pleasant story to tell. By the way, I'm not going to go blabbing about it either. I appreciate your confidence too much to betray it."

Snape couldn't believe her disregard of certain information. "You are unbelievable," he marveled. "I tell you that I'm a murderer and you act as though I bought a loaf of bread."

Shrugging, Hermione asked, "What do you want me to say? That was terrible, Severus. You shouldn't have done that--what--twenty years ago?" She laughed, "You figured that out on your own. Without you, we'd probably all be dead. Besides, you don't need to be punishedany more than you already have."

Shaking his head, Snape wished he could so easily forgive himself. Hoping to lighten the mood and remove his mind from the memories, he asked, "Now then, why did you become a Death Eater?"

Hermione giggled as she replied, "Well, you know, they had good benefits, so I thought what the hell."

Chuckling, Snape teased, "I forgot to ask earlier if you had set a date yet."

"For what?" Hermione asked.

"Your wedding," Snape answered smoothly.

Hermione gave a heartfelt laugh. Her laugh was lilting, as though it enjoyed hearing itself as much as he liked eliciting it.

"That's not fair," she said. "You are not going to change the subject to that."

"Why not?" Snape asked.

"Because," she emphasized. "I don't want to talk about it."

He chuckled as he said, "I damn near told you my life story, and you refuse to confide the details of your approaching marriage. I'm insulted."

Hermione giggled. Even in the dim light, Snape could see the blush of her cheeks.

"I don't even know that there'll be a wedding," she replied.

Laughing softly, Snape said, "That is interesting news."

"That is not what I meant to say," she said firmly through her giggle. "I don't know. I think I want to marry him, eventually, certainly not right now. But sometimes I wonder about us, you know. We don't like any of the same things, aside from Harry. And I often think that if Ron lived under the same roof as me, I'd probably kill him, and not figuratively either."

Snape was grinning as the floodgate of information opened.

"I don't know," she repeated. "I know that I don't want to settle down and have a family," her voice sounded affected, as though she had heard that suggestion many times before, "not in the near future, if ever. I know that's what Ron wants, and I feel guilty about that all the time."

Her eyes suddenly opened very wide, "Dear god, why haven't you shut me up yet?" she asked with embarrassment in her voice.

Snape was having trouble breathing through his fits. "Because I like listening to you," he finally managed to say.

Laughing herself now, Hermione said, "Do you know how strange it is to hear you laugh? It's like seeing the guards in front of Buckingham Palace dancing a jig."

He laughed even harder at the analogy.

"Look, it's finally stopped raining," Hermione said.

Still chuckling, Snape had a notion. Standing abruptly, he held out his hand to her and said, "Come on, I want to show you something."

She took his hand and he led her out the door, and through the hall, to the stairs that led to the roof. Snape was already halfway up the stairwell before he realized that he was still holding her hand. Pushing open the heavy door at the top, he directed her to the south edge of the building. From that vantage point, there was an unobstructed view of the immense, moonlit lake.

"It's breathtaking," Hermione sighed, then added with a smirk, "Do you bring all your dates up here?"

Returning the grin, he said, "Only my favorites."

She laughed softly before saying, "I won't tell Ron you said that either."

"That would be best," he said quietly. Again, he realized that her small, soft hand was still in his. As he released it, he quickly said, "Sorry."

"Let's not start that again," she said as she maintained her gaze out over the water. "I'll have to add handholding to the contract."

Snape smiled. He had never known anyone like her before, and he realized that some part of him wanted to be able to hold her hand again.

They stood there for a long while, the top of her head barely at his shoulder. She looked out at the sparkling water as he observed her furtively. The lake didn't interest him so much that evening. It wasn't until she started to shiver he suggested that they return to his apartment.

When they entered the living room, Snape immediately saw the time was nearing midnight. "I should escort you back to your room," he said.

"All right," she sighed. "Do you have a cloak I can borrow?"

"Of course," he said before he went to the bedroom tolocate his extra cloak. When he returned but a few minutes later, he found her curled up on the couch with her head on the armrest, fast asleep. Smiling, he summoned a blanked to cover her. He chuckled to himself that he hadn't thought to summon his extra cloak, as he draped the blanket over her.

Snape watched her for a few minutes, uncertain if he should wake her. Deciding that she was fine where she was, he went to bed himself. He didn't have time to mull over the day, or the captivating woman sleeping on his couch, as he slid under the covers still fully clothed. For the first time in many months, Snape fell asleep almost straight away--dreaming of London, Hermione, and a healthy Harry Potter.