A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I really appreciate the encouragement and the constructive comments. (Snape Fan, see if you can spot the result of your comments to me in this chapter!). I know that people are waiting for Mel to maker her appearance, and I planned for her to arrive on the scene long before this. But like everything I plan, it didn't turn out that way. But I can assure you that she'll definitely be in the next chapter. Now, onto the story!

Disclaimer: Everything here belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A Wound Festers

Hermione approached the Great Hall, feeling more rested and content than she had ever been in the past three months. Her good mood withstood Harry and Ron's daily Quidditch talk, and she had even participated in the conversation, despite the fact that her knowledge of the game was as vast as Ron's acquaintance of Hogwarts: A History was intimate. Needless to say, her opinions on the subject were usually the butt of her best friends' Quidditch jokes, and today was no exception. Normally, she would have glared at them, but today, Hermione laughed alongside the two boys. Nothing seemed to dampen her spirits.

She breezed through her daily routine, laughing and talking with her friends. Hermione was blissfully ignorant of the glances that Harry and Ron had thrown to each other over her head and therefore, she remained unperturbed. She was in her element in McGonagall's Advance Transfiguration class, offering answers to the professor's questions, something she had not done for a long time. Needless to say, McGonagall was surprised, even shocked. As the trio left her classroom, the professor caught Harry's eyes and she raised her eyebrows in question. Harry shrugged back at her.

Harry had fully expected Hermione to head towards the library as he and Ron walked deeper and deeper under the castle towards the potions classroom. It was one of Hermione's newly acquired habits since she completed her NEWTS potions earlier in the year; to work diligently in Madam Pierce's domain while the other two-third of the trio suffered in the company of Hogwarts' potions master. However, it only added to his and Ron's unease that Hermione had trailed happily alongside them, apparently oblivious to the growing tension in her friends as they braced themselves for an unpleasant encounter between herself and the potions master.

Harry noted that Snape was early as usual. The three friends paused at the entrance to the potions room and Harry realised with a groan that they were in full view of the professor. Ron was visibly nervous as Hermione hugged both of them in turn, promising to meet them for lunch in the Great Hall. She left and Harry entered the room, not daring to meet the professor's eyes. Ron nudged him hard in the ribs and Harry read the warning in his friend's freckled face. Professor Snape had always made Harry feel uncomfortable in his presence, but none of his usual petty comments compared to what the professor's subtle body language was telling him today. The potions master's face was blank, but Harry had the impression that Snape was quietly gathering a thunderstorm, complete with menacing black rain clouds and sharp, jagged lightning, ready to hurl it at Ron and himself at a moment's notice. The fingers on his right had were curling and uncurling themselves, as if resisting the impulse to throw a disintegrating potion into their faces. Harry was wary of the intensity of Snape's hatred and it promised to be an unbearable two hours. He made a mental note to talk to Hermione about the dangerous situation she had pushed her friends into.

Hermione hummed softly to herself as she entered the library. Ever since she had married the professor, she had lost her sense of purpose. Before that, her goal had always been to outshine her classmates in her NEWTS exams, and then go on to a magical college to further her education. After that, she had wanted to settle down with a good man and start a family of her own. Hermione was happiest when she was busily engaged in pursuing her dreams, but the unexpected marriage was a complication that had thrown her off her stride. As a result, she had sunk into a deep depression, the way a small, lost boat at sea would sink in a sea storm. Hermione's unexpected discovery a few weeks ago had given her a renewed sense of purpose, her small boat was finally floating towards safe shores. Hermione dropped her books onto her favourite table and propped her head with her left hand as she sat down. She was soon lost in her thoughts.

That evening, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat themselves comfortably at their favourite couch in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the companionable silence that only a close friendship can provide. Hermione was happily engaged with Hogwarts: A History, and Harry was trying to outwit Ron in their second chess game for the night. It had spoken volumes about their concern for Hermione's behaviour today when Ron had lost his queen to Harry's pawn. Ron's white pieces were furious with him. They could not believe that their queen would be taken out of the game in such a humiliating fashion. They had demanded the return of their queen while said queen crossed her arms and haughtily refused to look at Ron. Receiving no response from either player, the white pieces promptly went on a strike around the chessboard, accompanied by the jeering of their black counterparts. The redhead sighed and sat back on the couch. Harry took it as their cue to abandon the game. As one, they focused their attention on Hermione.

"Hermione," Ron's voice was carefully measured.

"What?" Hermione's nose was still buried in the thick volume.

"We need to talk."

Frowning slightly at being interrupted, Hermione put the book aside and raised a questioning eyebrow at the serious looks on her friends' faces.

Before Harry had properly phrased his concerns in his head, Hermione said, "Are you going to comment on my good mood today?"

Harry and Ron nodded dumbly. Mustering his courage, Harry asked, "So, why the smiley face? Not that we're complaining, of course, but you've been…well, off for quite some time now."

Hermione smiled as her best friends' concern wrapped itself around her like the comforting embrace of her mother. She was sorely tempted to spill all her secrets to them right there and then. Instead, she said, "I'll tell you two later. In the meantime, don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Not thoroughly reassured, Harry let the matter rested, albeit reluctantly. Ron took the lead from him and changed the subject abruptly. "Come on, Hermione, play chess with me. Harry's such an unchallenging opponent, I should have played a flobberworm!"

His friend spluttered in indignation, "I took your queen with my pawn back then!" The black pieces nodded fervently, and Hermione had to laugh.

After their game, in which Hermione had lost spectacularly, Ron had proposed a rematch. Hermione shook her head and said that she should go back to the dungeons before curfew. She planted a kiss on her friends' cheek and exited the common room.

Harry saw Ron frown as his friend turned to look at the giant hourglass hanging over the fireplace. "What's wrong, mate?"

Ron was uncharacteristically solemn when he said, "Did you realise she's gone back to the git earlier than she should have? It's only 45 minutes before curfew!"

Saying nothing, Harry rearranged the chess pieces and indicated for Ron to make his first move. Neither one of them could fool the other into believing that the light-hearted atmosphere of before had not dissipated with Ron's comments.

Severus was unpleasantly surprised to find his routine disturbed yet again. He was furious that Hermione had turned up alongside Potter and Weasley at the potions room, and even more annoyed to see her standing right in front of him twenty minutes earlier than she should be. Had she suddenly lost her ability to tell time? Well, she could continue standing there; it was perfectly within her rights. He favoured his wife with an indifferent look and returned to the article he was reading in the latest potions journal.

"We need to talk."

Severus' head snapped up, his confusion quickly masked as a scowl slide effortlessly onto his face. What, in Merlin's name, does she want? Severus considered the possibility of him responding to her statement, but decided against it in the end. It would be far more interesting to let his wife take the lead, just to see what had made her volunteer a conversation with him, when she had, in the past, devoted most of her energy to avoiding any form of interaction with him.

Her husband's non-responsive behaviour made its first chip at Hermione's optimism and confidence. She faltered, and Severus noted the insecurities of a seventeen-year-old creeping up slowly behind her.

Hermione took a deep breath and plunged into the speech she had prepared whilst in the library, "I realised we haven't been getting along very well (Severus snorted), and it isn't doing both of us any good (he rolled his eyes). And I really think you and I should really try to patch things up between us (and smirked)."

Still smirking, Severus asked, "What made you think that there was any 'we' or 'us' or 'you and I' in the first place, Hermione, my dear?" Severus had only used his wife's given name once throughout their marriage, when he had thought that it would help her relax in his presence. Later, he had silently agreed with her that first names were too personal for either of them. Since then, he had taken to omitting the use of her name in any conversations they had with each other. Both of them had secretly found that relieving. However, he was sure that drawling out her name alongside the endearment right now was perfect for the occasion. It would complete the humiliation that Hermione had placed herself into when she had approached him.

Hermione frowned, unsure of how to proceed after seeing the antagonism on her husband's face. "Look…"

"Look where?"

"I really need to tell you…"

"Do tell, the suspense is killing me."

"Please, would you just listen?" Hermione's voice was starting to waver. "I really want this marriage to work."

Severus saw his opening and jumped in. "Well," he said, "Unfortunately, I don't." He stopped to admire the effect his words had on her; his skill in the art of insult had really improved over the years, but then again, she was an easy prey. Hermione looked surprised and hurt, as if noticing for the first time that a trusted friend had driven the wrong side of a sword into her. Delighted, the sadistic side of Severus, honed to perfection over the years in his struggle for survival, drove the sword further into its victim, "And you know what, Hermione, my dear wife? I will never like you, let alone love you." Severus watched her face crumbled, and he twisted the blade to complete the kill. "And you know why?" Hermione shook her head timidly and Severus took her chin in his fingers, effectively forcing her eyes to meet his. He wanted to savour the moment as malice loaded his tone and he whispered, "Because you're not worthy of it, and because I love another woman."