Thanks are always extended to my wonderful beta, Snarkyroxy!

Chapter 5: Simple Efforts

Snape slept like the dead that night, and when he awakened sometime the next morning, nature was demanding he attempt to find a bathroom…or else!

The dark-haired wizard realized his fever was gone, which was a great improvement, but the rest of his body did not seem to want to recover. He was still exceptionally weak, and even getting up from the bed and moving across the room was a difficult task.

He was covered in sweat by the time he made it to the door some five minutes later, and he needed to use the bathroom so badly it was a miracle he had not used the floor instead.

The door opened just as he was reaching for the handle, and he lost his balance for the billionth time since awakening. He fell heavily onto the hardwood floor, a moan of pain escaping without permission.

"Oh, God! I had no idea you were up!" cried a female voice. Hermione saw the look on Snape's face and mistook it for pain due to the fall. "Gods, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Bathroom." He let out softly.

"What?" she asked.

"I need the bathroom. Now." Snape gritted his teeth as the words left his lips. His normally pale skin was flushed with embarrassment as well as his earlier efforts.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked. She felt her cheeks burn with a blush and realized her former Professor was most likely in pain due to his bladder.

Without a word, the young witch knelt and put an arm around his shoulders, helping the older man regain his balance. Snape was determined to make it to where ever the wretched bathroom was, and made it to his feet much easier than he had at the hospital. Accepting Hermione Granger's help - or anyone else's, for that matter - was terribly out of character for him, but nature was calling rather insistently.

Hermione steadied him down the beige-carpeted hall to the bathroom door as Snape tried to move faster than his legs would carry him. He wobbled like a newborn colt, his knees shaking. Though the door was not very far from where he had slept, it felt like it took years to reach his destination.

"I can manage from here, Miss Granger," Snape told her as he braced his weight against the doorframe. His voice held the tone he reserved for his students. He peered into the bathroom, wincing at the peach colored décor. What was it with Muggles and their brightly-colored bathrooms?

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked worriedly. "The last thing I need is for you to fall into the bathtub and break an arm or leg."

"Quite certain." He smirked. "Unless of course you find the image of your much older former professor using the toilet appealing."

She flushed hotly at his words. She certainly did not want to watch him pull himself out of his pants to pee or pull his trousers down to do something else. She quickly shut the bathroom door behind him, ignoring the grin that appeared on his face at her reaction.

Ugh, he's probably wrinkly, she thought disgusted by the thought of his plumbing. It was bad enough she had walked in on Ron getting dressed once and he was her age.

The thought of Ron made her eyes well up with tears. She gave a great sigh and retreated.

Much later, the bathroom door creaked opened and Snape stumbled out. Hermione, who had been sitting at a desk in one of the rooms toward the end of the hall, rose when she heard the hinges creak. She moved to stand in the hallway.

It was obvious to her by the damp hair around Snape's face that he had freshened up a bit, and she was glad for that. Magical baths were all well and good, but once he was stronger he would need to take a real shower. Still, the fact that he had washed his face and hands was a start.

"Are you well enough to eat something?" she asked.

He started visibly, clearly not expecting her to be waiting for him to leave the bathroom.

"It depends on what is available," he snarled.

Hermione repressed a grin at the tone of his voice. He was obviously feeling much better. "Whatever you want. Cereal, eggs, toast, muffins, porridge."

Snape's hawkish nose wrinkled in disgust at the mention of porridge. "Simple eggs and toast will suffice, Miss Granger."

"Would you like tea as well? And please, it's Hermione."

"I'll take tea as long as there are no extra supplements in it," he bit out pointedly.

Hermione frowned. "What are you-"

His eyebrows lowered, causing a line to appear between his eyes as they narrowed in anger. "Do not think me stupid or naïve, girl. I slept the entire night without-" Here he stopped, unwilling to tell her about his horrifying nightmares. "My sleep was undisturbed."

"And what is wrong with that?" She crossed her arms over her chest, a defiant look in her eyes.

The flesh under his right eye twitched. "It is not normal for me, which means you slipped me something last night. I remember not being able to keep my eyes open. You drugged me."

She rolled her eyes. ""Oh, don't be so dramatic. I gave you some aspirin after we Apparated to ease the pain and help you sleep better."

Snape began to speak in the tone he reserved for terrorizing first-years. "You will do no such thing again without my permission. Is that understood?"

The young witch's eyebrows lowered over her eyes. She was not intimidated in the least. "Perfectly. Have your damn nightmares. See if I care."

Snape opened his mouth to protest and she continued on. "I know you have nightmares. You don't need to pretend you don't. I sat by your bed for three weeks and listened and watched as you woke up thrashing and crying out nearly every night. I'm anything but naïve."

"Regardless," Snape snapped harshly. "You will not give me potions or Muggle medications without asking my permission first."

"You made that perfectly clear." She shrugged, suddenly realizing that perhaps she was being a tad bit unfair. The defiance left her like a deflating balloon. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't want people giving me anything without my knowledge, either. I just thought-"

"Therein lies the problem. You think far too much, Miss Granger."

She snorted at him. He was definitely in fine spirits this morning. "I have things to do. If you feel up to it, and think you can manage it without killing yourself, you're welcome to explore the house. But don't even think about the last bedroom on the right. It's off limits." She stormed off into another room and slammed the door behind her.'

The frames on the hallway wall rattled, and Snape grunted. He raised a hand to his forehead, feeling the first stirrings of a headache. How dare the meddling little witch slip him aspirin!

But by the time he had struggled down the hall to bed, he wondered if he had been too harsh. He sat firmly on the mattress, battling with himself about the situation. One side of him was convinced she would use him just like the others had; one part of him thought it was the life debt which caused her to show him concern, and yet another part of him grasped onto the thread of hope that she might actually care.

He sighed heavily, his stomach grumbling for food. The young witch was willing to defend him in a trial in front of the Wizengamot. She was quarreling with Potter, who was one of her best friends, so she could defend her former Professor. One she firmly believed in.

He was halfway to the room she had disappeared into when he realized with a start that he was actually making a move to apologize to someone. He shook his head, his dark hair falling around his pale face. What was the world coming to?

The journey drained his strength, but at the same time he knew that it had been easier than his first trip to the bathroom. Disappointment and relief filled him when he grasped the doorframe of the small room. The door was ajar but Hermione was no longer there. The room appeared to serve as an office. The walls were light cream in color with white curtains hanging over the windows. Black metal frames with white mats and black and white photos of places in London hung on the walls. There was a desk with a computer as well as several papers and parchments.

Curiosity got the better of him and he moved very slowly across the room to the desk. Several papers caught his attention. They were written on Muggle lined paper with ballpoint pen. He immediately recognized Hermione's handwriting, having been her Professor for six years. There were dates as well as particular events that had taken place with Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione. All the events included him. Hermione had written along side each event how Snape had been trying to help Potter.

Snape's ebony eyes scrolled down each date, remembering the time he saved Potter from falling to his death due to a cursed broom. He frowned, remembering how his participation had cost his house the Quidditch match against Gryffindor. He continued to read each and every event that Hermione had written and realized that she was documenting cases in which he had helped the side of Light and the Order.

Her research delighted and frightened him all at once. What would his fate be at the hands of the Wizengamot or the Wizarding public?

His eyes roamed over the desk, finding parchments. They were written in writing he also recognized and he should have known better and walked away. The parchment clearly did not belong on the desk with the rest of the papers, but he could not help himself. When he finished reading, the guilt assaulted him like a heavy downpour that refused to let up until the earth was flooded.

He backed away from the desk and took a few deep breaths. He turned to leave when the very person the parchment was addressed to confronted him.

"What are you doing in here?" Hermione asked. Her eyes were wide with surprise and also suspicion.

Snape cursed under his breath. She was already assuming the worst without giving him a chance to explain.

Hermione appeared angry, but also looked just about ready to cry. "Tell me you didn't start reading my letters. Please tell me you didn't read my personal letters."

Snape opened his mouth to tell her he didn't mean to and realized how pathetic that sounded. He carefully orchestrated his words. "It was not my intention to delve into your personal affairs. I came looking for you."

"And yet you couldn't resist, could you? Can't put the past of being a spy behind you? You just have to delve into other people's business!" she shouted angrily.

"It was not my intention-"

"Yes, I heard that!" she shouted.

In the next moment, all her anger seemed to drain away. She stumbled backwards a few steps until her back hit the wall, and then slid down to the ground as she started to sob.

It was a miracle the girl didn't cry more. Her parents were dead, one of her best friends would no longer speak to her and the other friend had died.

The lithe man sighed. The other friend, who had admitted so openly in his letter to her that he loved her. Gauging by her reaction to Snape finding the letter, she had feelings for the boy as well. A boy, no, young man who lay six feet beneath the earth because his former professor had been unable to save both him and the one he loved.

Snape looked away as she sobbed. He let the guilt assault him because he could; he was free, no longer having to hide what he felt from the Dark Lord. No longer was he a slave, a spy who had to hide his thoughts and emotions to protect himself and those around him. He didn't disturb her, and when she had calmed down, he sat himself on the floor nearby, exhausted as if he had been the one crying.

She gazed cautiously at him, taking in for the first time what she had not seen earlier. He was no longer dressed in his hospital robes. She took in the familiar black waistcoat and all the tiny buttons that lined the front. This time, there was no teaching robe to give him the look of an overgrown bat or to hide the fact that he was incredibly thin. Just the black waist coat, a white linen shirt beneath it and black trousers.

"How did you…?" she asked, gesturing up and down his body.

Snape glanced down at his clothing. "I transfigured them into something more agreeable, though black hospital robes were better than blue or floral print."

Hermione's lips twitched with a slight smile. "Flowers just didn't seem your style," she allowed. "How did you transfigure them without a wand?"

"There is some magic that can be managed without a wand. It takes many years of practice and a trained mind."

She nodded and allowed her head to fall back against the wall. She appeared lost and more like the eleven-year-old girl Snape remembered from her first year than the woman she had become.

They gazed at each other for a short while before she got to her feet and walked over to her desk. He struggled to stand, and turned slowly to face her before he left the room.

"It would never have worked, you know."

"Hmm?" she asked, biting her lower lip. Her warm brown eyes met his cool black ones.

"You and Mr. Weasley. I have nothing against the boy, nor am I glad that I was forced to choose between you and him. But you would have moved on quickly from him."

The woman's eyebrows lowered in anger and she opened her mouth to speak, but Snape was not finished. "You are a highly intelligent witch, Hermione Granger. Long talks about Quidditch and making babies would have bored you eventually."

Snape expected her to lash out for his boldness, but she only smiled sadly and shrugged.

"I guess we'll never know," she allowed softly.

He nodded and turned to leave the room, only to be stopped by her voice yet again.

"What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you came looking for me." Her brown eyes were large as she regarded him.

Silence filled the room for several moments before Snape answered, "Never mind." He left the room feeling like a coward.

To be continued…

I want to apologize to all my readers for having to wait so long for the next chapter of my story. Real life has been very hectic for me these last few months and I haven't been in the right frame of mind to do any writing. Hopefully, that is about to change. Thank you as always for your continued reviews.