A/N: Some movement forward - healing is happening for all of our MCs. Thank you to my betas kiradraca and bondgirltrb helping me hammer out some details. Here's to a fruitful friendship moving forward.

Nothing you recognize is mine! I'm playing in someone else's playground.


Chapter 10

"Feed your soul
with love
this is the way
to heal your wounds."

-Alexandra Vasiliu

Three Months Later

"You've made remarkable progress in the few months we've worked together, Ms. Granger. I think you just needed a little clarity," her therapist told her. "What are your next steps?"

"I'm going to continue with my daily affirmations, and I've already set up a date to talk to Harry and Ron like we discussed." She bit her lip. "I'd also like to tell Severus about the progress I've made, but I'm not sure if that's the moral thing to do. He's seeing someone with whom he used to work."

Andre raised a brow and his little mustache curled upward in inquiry.

"Oh no, not from his previous occupation if you understand what I'm saying. Three or four months ago, he took a temporary position at the local library, and when it was over, he asked the librarian out to dinner." Hermione reached over and grabbed one of the cushions from his couch and hugged it tightly. "I haven't met her – which is probably just as well. But she seems nice, and Severus really seems to like her."

"It sounds like he's taken your previous conversation seriously. He has become an active participant in his own life. How does that make you feel?"

"So happy for him," she said. Her eyes welled over, and tears slipped down her cheeks. She reached out for a tissue from the box that was sitting on the coffee table in Andre's office and dabbed her eyes. "Sad for myself, but happy he's doing so well."

"Is your friendship predicated on the hopes of a future relationship with him?" Andre asked.

Hermione sucked in her breath at the pain caused by the question. "No, of course not."

"Why do you worry it is immoral to tell Mr. Snape of your progress?" Andre asked, scratching a note in his book with his biro. "Are you worried about being vulnerable?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust him, Ms. Granger? Is he worth trusting?" her therapist watched her from over the top of his book. He crossed his legs.

"Always." And she meant it.


Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together at the Muggle coffee shop they met at regularly – Brewed Awakening. Because of their notoriety, if they weren't meeting at one of their houses, they went Muggle since the Wizarding Press were idiots and didn't understand that there was life outside of Diagon Alley.

Ron had a small milk mustache as he said, "I've really come to love these Mocha thingies. They are incredibly tasty, though Neville hates it when I come home wired from the caffeine." He licked his lip.

Hermione smiled at the mention of Ron's husband. "How is Neville? It's been a dog's age since I've seen him."

"Great! He's taken over for Sprout as the Herbology professor finally, although she agreed to stay on for a year as his assistant. Sort of ease him into the teaching part of things. Great with the plants my Neville is. Not so great with the discipline."

Harry slapped him on the back. "Please give him our love."

"'Course," Ron said, smiling and stirring yet another spoon of sugar into his coffee/sugar slurry.

He and Harry both looked well. Harry was fit. He'd remained short, most likely due to the miserable conditions he lived in as a young child, but he was muscled from his daily work as an Auror. Helping people was part of his makeup – he couldn't walk away from those in need, so he'd organized his whole life around it. An Auror by day and a volunteer in the Spell-Damage ward at St. Mungos most nights, he had little time to devote to romance, so his relationship with Ginny had died on the vine after the war. He seemed happy and at peace, so his friends didn't badger him about dating much.

Ron carried a bit of pudge around his waist, and his hair was thinning, but he was deeply happy and that happiness made him magnetic. Hermione enjoyed spending time with him more now than she ever had when they were younger. He worked at the joke shop with George and Percy of all people, and he and Neville had adopted a Quidditch team's worth of war orphans. He was more easy-going than he'd ever been growing up, and Hermione thought it had everything to do with being the center of Neville's world, rather than a sidekick to Harry or the sixth of seven children. This Ron would never walk off and abandon his friends in the middle of the Forest of Dean.

Hermione reached out and covered both of their hands. "I have something I wanted to talk about, and I hope you can hear that I'm coming from a place of exploration rather than accusation."

Harry looked concerned and tugged at the collar of his grey tee shirt. "Sounds serious." He turned to Ron who just shrugged.

"We are friends, Mione. Whatever you've got to say, we're listening," Ron said.

"See, that's just it. You say that, but I don't believe it. Not really. When we were younger, our friendship felt… well, it felt conditional." Hermione held her hands up to forestall any commentary. She felt awkward, almost like she was picking on them, but Andre had told her that she needed to clear the air with Harry and Ron if she were ever to grow, and she agreed. "You made it clear you didn't like me our first year until I was useful, lying to cover for you about the Troll. Or don't forget when you got sent a Firebolt from Sirius – who had just escaped Azkaban, for Merlin's sake. You got mad that I was concerned for your safety, Harry. Neither of you talked to me for months. Anytime there was a problem in our relationship, you both banded together and left me out. Invitations for holidays were rescinded, you wouldn't sit with me in the Great Hall, you stopped… you both stopped being my friend. It was just awful."

Harry sighed and sat back in his chair, dragging his hands across the table. Ron crossed his arms defensively. They both were silent for a moment before the redhead said, "I haven't thought about that in years. When I think back to our school days, all I think about is the war. I'd forgotten all that silliness."

Pursing her lips in annoyance, Hermione said, "You had the luxury of forgetting. I've been going through therapy, and I've come to realize that I've had some rather significant long-term effects from it."

"Blimey, Mione. I'm sorry, but I think dredging up old school grudges is unfair." Ron's neck and face were starting to flush red. He turned to Harry for help or insight or assurance, she wasn't sure.

Hermione continued, "It's affecting my ability to form… form relationships with people that I love. One person that I love. I can't believe that he would choose to be with me, love me, when I failed him so spectacularly. My whole life," here she paused to swallow down tears, hating herself for breaking down. "My whole life, I felt as if people only tolerated me because of what I could do for them. After all, if you two, my two best friends in the world would drop me when I was inconvenient… surely there must be something deeply wrong with me." She wiped her tears away and tried to get a hold on her emotions. Her mother had told her once she wasn't pretty when she cried and she'd never forgotten.

Ron's face was beet red. "Hey now, that's absolute rot. I can't believe you're actually blaming us for your love life." He pushed back from the table. "My whole family welcomed you. My mum nearly murdered me when we broke up and I started dating Neville because she wanted you as a daughter-in-law, but somehow now it's my fault that Krum dumped you. I can't believe I left Neville in bed by himself this morning so that I could come face this character assassination, but I guess that's a mistake I won't be making again." He grabbed his jacket. "Coming, Harry?"

"Uh, I'll catch up to you later, mate. You go on without me."

"Fine." He stomped out, the jingling of the bell above the door incongruously cheerful.

"You aren't talking about Krum, are you? Because you are worth ten of him," Harry said quietly.

She laughed despite herself and said, "No, of course I'm not. Last I heard he was shagging his way through the Holyhead Harpies." She sniffed and it was not dainty at all. "Look, the who doesn't matter right now."

Harry nodded and then asked, "Do you think Ron realizes he just did exactly what you said he did when we were kids?"

"It'll hit him soon. If not on his own, I'm sure Neville will point it out," Hermione said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Good egg, Neville." Harry wrapped his hands around his coffee to warm them. "I love you, Hermione, and I'm sorry you felt like we only loved you conditionally. Can I have some time to think about this?" Harry asked, and in that moment Hermione loved him because the old Harry had carried so much trauma from his upbringing that he would have followed Ron out the door at the fear of losing the Weasleys – the only family he'd ever had. He continued, "But I do want to remind you that we love you right down to the tips of your toes, and you could quit your job and shave your head and never do another thing for the rest of your life, and I'd still love you. I'd worry about you, but I'd love you all the same. But for now, let's take some time."

The door slammed open and Ron stomped in. "Okay, I see what I did there, but I feel ambushed and upset and I need to talk to my husband. I love you AND I'm angry at you, and Neville says that both of those things can be true at the same time." He crossed his arms and shouted, "SO I'M GOING TO HAVE TO TALK TO YOU LATER."

And even though nothing had been hashed out, Hermione had never felt more heard or loved in that moment. "Okay, boys. Thank you so much."

Ron nodded, furious, and left.

"Don't thank me," Harry said, standing up and pulling her into a hug. "Because I've just realized you're talking about Snape." His voice was muffled in her hair as he said, "And I'm truly horrified." He kissed her forehead. "Ew."


Snape lounged on his couch with Lara's head pillowed on his shoulder. Well, pillow was probably too kind of a way to describe his bony shoulder. Nonetheless, Lara ignored whatever discomfort she felt and pressed her temple against the bony appendage, and Snape wasn't about to complain. He hoped she didn't bruise. They watched the telly, some ridiculous game show that made his eyes cross, but Lara seemed to like it, so he compromised by balancing a book in his left hand while he stroked her curly blonde hair with his right.

He wondered how long it would be until she noticed he'd hadn't turned a page in ten minutes since his right arm was out of commission. Well, he didn't really mind considering he got a cuddle out of it. He knew he was touch starved. Had been since he was a child, so he soaked up every hand on his arm, head on his shoulder, every peck of the lips.

Severus had managed to net thirty-two kisses in the two months they'd been dating, although it hadn't gone any further than that. He didn't want to initiate anything more intimate since it was important to him that Lara trusted him as her broken arm healed from her last disastrous relationship. And if he were honest, he hadn't really been well enough himself until the last week or so. He'd been working on casting spells every day, and while he wasn't up to his old strength yet, the scar tissue that capped his magical reserves was gone, and he suddenly felt better than he had in years. With access to magic, the potions they'd been giving him suddenly started to work with a vengeance. Snape was healing. Every day he was better.

Lara tucked her hands around his bicep. He felt warm because he liked Lara. She was kind and good, and she'd been through her own kind of war, a personal one with an arse of a man. It wasn't the same really, but it was close enough that she was kindred to him. She had gravity without bitterness, a rare thing.

"Severus," she said sleepily, breaking into his thoughts. She clicked the remote, turning the tv off.

"Hmm?" he asked and brushed his lips against her hairline. The sudden quiet was pleasant, making him feel like they were the only two people on earth.

"Did Draco say he'd meet us later? I brought that book on genetics he put on order last week."

"Unfortunately not. He's otherwise engaged tonight," Severus said, leaving out the detail that Draco was out taking prurient photos of Cornelius Fudge engaged in an affair with his granddaughter's nanny. Nothing career ending… except that the nanny was the beloved only child of the current head of the Wizengamot – Flavia Brocklehurst. Severus was looking forward to blackmailing the pants off him.

"Well, if it's just going to be you and me," Lara purred and pushed off his chest. She turned and curled her arms around his neck, scooting into his lap. Snape looked down at her in interest, allowing the tips of his fingers to slip under the hem of her shirt and trace little stars on her back. "Maybe we could finally have some time where it's just you… and me… and that big bed of yours." She punctuated each phrase with little sipping kisses at his lower lip. Her cats-eye glasses (purple today which looked particularly pretty on her) winked in the light.

Snape's lips curled up against his will, and he could feel that his smile was wolfish, exposing both canines. "I think I can accommodate you," he rumbled, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear. He growled into her neck.

She giggled and pushed off his lap, reaching out to grab his hands and pull him to his feet. Feeling like a man twenty years younger, he scooped Lara into his arms and carried her through the lounge and into the kitchen where there were stairs that led to his bedroom.

As he stepped into the light, Lara shrieking with laughter in his arms, his eyes locked with Hermione's. She stood outside his kitchen door, right hand raised to knock, smile fading and all the color draining from her face. In her other hand, she held a plate of homemade biscuits. His good humor dropped from him immediately as a wash of cold descended from his head, down his body, and out his toes.

Lara struggled out of his arms, and he let her go. He and Hermione stared at each other, separated by a pane of glass and a thousand small hurts.


A/N: No hate for me or Snapey or Ms. Barde, please. We are watching Snape grow from a man who let the currents take him wherever they wanted to a man who is the captain of his own destiny. He's allowed human connection. Don't worry - I only write HEAs.

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