A/N: Holy crap this opening scene took a lot out on me. Just ask the four people I kept pestering for help over and over again. I just couldn't be happy with it, and then after a while it stopped looking like English to me, so I had to put it down for a week to clear my head. Anyway, I hope it was worth the struggle and that you enjoy!


Chapter Fifteen

The sun had set in Hogsmeade when Severus returned to his home, Minerva's words still echoing in his head. "You don't see it, do you? Your attachment to her."

How preposterous an assumption, he fumed as he stormed into his living room, slipping his outer robes from his shoulders and tossing them roughly onto his desk chair.

"She's attached to you as well."

An even more ridiculous speculation! His fingers fumbled on the buttons of his frock coat, and he let out a frustrated growl before unfastening them with magic, adding the coat to the chair in a heap.

No student had ever deigned to connect with him after graduation. No student had ever contacted him later on in life for anything more significant than a referral or recommendation. The only thing he and Miss Granger had was a scholarly and professional connection, but because it had never been seen before, Minerva had read too deeply into it.

He poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and sat in front of the fire, staring into the dancing flames as his irritation faded and he slowly began to doubt himself.

As much as he tried to ignore it, he knew it wasn't that simple. He would be a fool not to acknowledge their unique relationship. She had already been a more significant student, due to her friendship with Potter. Her role in the war was not something he could ignore, either. And of the three of them, the Golden Trio, she was the one he could tolerate the most. At least she had sense.

She has a lot more than sense, his mind interjected as he took a sip from his glass. It was true- he saw more in her now than he had ever seen before, things he had stubbornly remained blind to for years until she finally forced his eyes to see. He hadn't given it much thought, but this young woman he had come to be familiar with was completely changed from the insufferable know-it-all that she had once been, always trying to force her way into the acceptance of this strange new world of hers, proving to herself that she belonged to it just as much as someone born into it, like himself.

Well, he considered as he frowned into the fire, she would be disappointed to know that even those born into this world have to fight for acceptance sometimes.

But when had she stopped trying? And when had he picked up on the change?

He tried to think back to when he first developed a growing interest in her. Could it have been as far back as St Mungo's? It was where he'd first noticed her frailty, after all- her lack of sleep, her malnutrition. It had concerned him, even then. Not to mention the confusion he had felt over her mere presence.

Or perhaps it was when he realized her mind suffered as much as her body, when he found her crumpled in the hall of Hogwarts. Or when he had first explained to her the damage that had been done to her magic, and had given in to her panic by agreeing to teach her, despite his many reservations.

Or did his interest in her have nothing to do with her hardships, but rather her strengths? She had, after all, produced a powerful occlumentic shield on her first attempt, a skill he knew rivaled even his own. Could she have impressed him so much that he began to pay attention, to really see her for who she was?

Regardless of the when, he had to admit that whatever had put her on his radar had been significant enough to make an impact. He saw her now not as a demanding, overeager child, but as a struggling witch that refused to give in to helplessness, despite the heavy burdens she carried.

She wore her pain as a cloak, he had noticed. Thick, heavy, weighing her down. It wasn't as noticeable as it had once been, but it was still there, in her slumped shoulders when she thought no one was watching, in her quiet stares to the side as conversations passed over her, in her frustrated, helpless huffs as her magic failed to do what she had commanded. Every time a sign of her distress reappeared, his concern for her pulsed.

He stared into his glass as he swirled it around, the amber hues reminding him of the color of her eyes. Eyes that implored upon him, dug into him, incapacitating him with each indication of weakness she portrayed in front of him. Eyes that left him helpless to her demands.

Why did she affect him so? What about her brought out this unresounding urge from him to help her? Why did she never fail to draw him in?

"You don't see it, do you?"

He set the glass down roughly on the coffee table, and glared at it as if it had anything to do with his discomfort. See what? That he had a vested interest in the wellbeing of Hermione Granger? Sure. Fine. He could admit that. But to go so far as to say he was attached?

And to assume the feeling was mutual!

He rose from his seat and began to pace around his cramped living room. If Granger felt anything out of the ordinary for him, he was unaware. She appreciated the help he could give her, that was all. And, he considered, rubbing his face with his hands, she certainly wasn't a fan of his after today.

He admitted to himself that things got a bit out of hand during the discussion of her safety. The anger he felt- the frustration that no one could see the seriousness of the threat as he did- had gotten the best of him, and while it was not his intention to upset her further, his desire to see her safe outweighed any potential benefit from softening the blow. He hadn't stayed alive this long without planning for the worst case scenario at every turn, and to him, planning against another attack- no matter how unlikely- was the only solution his mind could see.

So yes, he was quite adamant on an immediate plan of action to keep her safe- but Minerva surely didn't read into that, did she? After all, his desire to keep the girl safe was no different than hers.

Even if it wasn't, she hadn't witnessed the attack. She hadn't seen Miss Granger writhing in pain in front of her, she didn't feel the helplessness he had, the desperation to end her torture; she hadn't felt the crippling fear course through her as the severity of the situation came to a head...

Severus gripped the back of the sofa as awareness flooded through him. He hadn't felt fear like that in a long while, not even when faced with his own death. He hadn't realized it at the time, but he had felt that way before, years and years ago.

With Lily.

His breath hitched and his chest tightened. Oh gods, Minerva was right. He had an attachment to her after all.

How in the hell had that happened?!

He stumbled around the sofa, grabbing his drink and downing it before collapsing into his seat. His hands shook as he ran them through his hair, terrified of the implications of this realization. He had never found himself so invested in a former student's life, yet for some reason her safety had become a priority of his; he hadn't realized until this moment that he was so invested in her wellbeing that it had become something more serious.

And Minerva claimed this to be mutual? That Miss Granger felt the same?

I need another drink. He summoned the decanter to him, not trusting his own strength, and poured another glass. He cared for her. That's why she fascinated him. It wasn't a 'Lily' level of affection, exactly- at least as far as he could tell- but it was... He tapped his nails on his glass as he thought. He felt a connection with her that he couldn't easily express into words. There was a sort of harmony, an understanding between the two of them. Their relationship seemed to have transcended the unspoken boundaries of their former roles, bringing them closer than either one could have anticipated. He had grown fond of her, despite his typical guardedness, and the more he considered it, the more he could see signs of her feeling similarly towards him after all.

The fact that hers was the first face he saw after his near-demise should be proof enough of that. Was he ever truly just a distraction for her those first few days? Or did she choose to be by his bedside for another purpose, even following him to St Mungo's under the pretense of being concerned for his wellbeing? He'd had a difficult time believing her when she had said as much; what reason could she possibly have to worry about him so? But clearly, whatever the reason was, she had been drawn to his bedside, with the hopes of seeing him well.

So she had been concerned about him from the beginning, that much he knew. Yet there were more signs; small things, like her intense gratitude for what in his mind were very trivial matters. Had he deprived her of praise so completely over the years that every time he expressed it to her now she saw it as an accomplishment? Each and every word of approval he uttered to her was met with a flush of pride, a smile that still felt out of place being directed towards him. And it wasn't just the physical way she responded to his words; she had expressed clear interest in their changing relationship, clarifying their new boundaries as they formed, taking pleasure in their evolving interactions. It had taken him a while to notice, but she seemed to genuinely enjoy his presence, and he couldn't see that more clearly now.

He sipped his drink as he recalled the fight he had witnessed between her and Weasley. Her friends were picking up on her attachment to him, then. And he realized that incidentally, he had come up in her conversation with Ginny Weasley, as well.

His stomach sunk as he considered that. He had a suspicion that her conversation with her friend was a lot more personal than he was led to believe. Whatever was said could have painted an even bigger target on her back, and it made him sick to consider it.

An agitated nervousness began to rise in him, and he reminded himself that she was well guarded, and would soon be safe inside the school grounds. There was no need to panic tonight, for as much as he wished she were already within the castle walls, he had to admit she was safe enough for a single night.

He leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. What was he going to do about this?

Damn you, Minerva. He wasn't going to sleep now.


Hermione closed the lid of her school trunk with a resound thunk, the finality of the act pressing upon her. "That's the last of it," she said to the empty room around her. She checked her watch- eight forty-five. The move was happening at nine.

She wasn't alone for long. Ron poked his head into the room, toothbrush in hand and paste on the corner of his mouth. "McGonagall's just arrived. Are you packed?" he asked her, and she nodded. "I'll take this down for you then." He shoved his toothbrush in his mouth, picked up the trunk and carried it out of the room; she turned to find Crookshanks.

She located him buried under her blankets, and when she lifted the covers he yawned and flipped over, putting a paw over his eyes in protest. "I know, bud," she cooed as she sat down next to him, rubbing his ear just the way he liked it. "I don't want to go, either. But we don't have a choice."

I'm allowed a few minutes, she thought to herself as she curled her body around her cat, shoving her face in his fur. A few peaceful minutes, where she could pretend everything was fine. That today was the first day of term, that she would be boarding the train with Ginny, that she would meet up with friends she hadn't seen in what felt like ages, that the feast tonight would leave her full and warm and ready for a peaceful night's sleep.

But none of that was going to happen. No, instead she would be escorted to a quiet castle two weeks before term, just her and Ginny- no train, no feast, no peaceful rest. She hadn't been able to sleep in a house full of friends and familiar faces; she doubted she'd sleep at Hogwarts under much lonelier conditions.

Crookshanks twitched his tail before wriggling out from her arms, standing and shaking himself as if doing so would return some of his lost dignity. "All right, fine then," she muttered, sitting up. "It's time we pack you up anyway. There's no point in staying up here wishing things were different."

When she walked downstairs, an irate Crookshanks pouting in his carrier, she saw Professor McGonagall talking to Mr and Mrs Weasley at the kitchen table. The front door opened and Kingsley strode in, followed shortly after by Snape, who glanced her way briefly as he strode by. He looks as tired as I feel, she noticed as she paused at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what to do.

She could hear Ron out the front door and figured that since she was not invited over to the table, she was likely meant to go outside. She stepped down into the front yard, the sun already warm on her skin, and walked over to where Ron, Harry, and Ginny were gathered by the school trunks. "This is turning into quite an event, isn't it?" she commented, gesturing to the house. "Kingsley, McGonagall, and Snape all here to move us?"

"I'm not surprised," said Harry. "Kingsley is very concerned about these missing Death Eaters. And McGonagall is Headmistress now, it makes sense that she would want to make sure things went smoothly. And Snape... well..."

"Well what?" Hermione asked, and Harry looked at her as if it were obvious.

"Are you really surprised he's here, after yesterday?" he asked her. "The way he carried on about you being in danger, I'm not shocked at all that he wants to see the move for himself."

"I'm surprised he didn't drag you there against your will last night," Ginny said, sitting on her trunk.

"Yeah, he was pretty upset, huh," she mumbled, remembering the level of aggression he had given off the day prior. It had stunned her, his determination to send her immediately to what he had deemed the safest place for her. It seemed a bit overboard, if she were honest. She was perfectly safe at the Burrow last night, surely he knew that?

"It's okay, Mione," Ron said as he put his arm around her in a poor attempt to comfort her. "After today you won't be seeing much of him anyway, so it doesn't matter how angry he is."

Hermione glared up at her boyfriend and snapped, "He was just worried about me, Ron. We had just been attacked."

Ron seemed blown away at her reaction. Eyes wide, he said, "I know that. But you have to admit that he was over the line-"

"When you get attacked you're allowed to go off a bit," she argued. "I haven't exactly handled it well, why should he?"

"Well, anyway," Harry interrupted, sharing a look with Ron, "my point is I'm not surprised they're all here to see you off."

Ron's arm dropped from her shoulders as he turned from them, and she watched his neck grow red. He was fighting back his anger, anger that she had caused. She wished she was sorry for snapping at him right before being sent away, but she had meant what she said. It was unfair to hold Snape's anger against him in a time like this.

The front door opened and the others were stepping outside, McGonagall heading their way as soon as she saw them. "Right, then," she began, "We've settled on how this is going to go down. We'll be apparating in groups- Potter, Weasley, you two will be apparating to the castle gates with Kingsley and Arthur first. If there is any sign of danger, Arthur will disapparate immediately to warn the rest of us.

"Miss Weasley, you and I will be apparating with your mother shortly after," she continued. "Assuming all is still well, Miss Granger, you and Severus will then follow. Once you've appeared, we will surround you two and move as a unit through the castle gates, where the wards will offer a good amount of protection, especially since you both had a hand at creating them. Does all that make sense?"

When the four of them nodded, she finished, "Good. Let's not waste time, then. Go off to your respective groups and we'll begin shortly."

As the others spread out, McGonagall grabbed Hermione's arm gently and pulled her just off to the side. "I don't anticipate any trouble," she told her quietly, "but if you two appear and see any sign of danger, Severus has strict orders to get you to safety immediately. Please don't fight him on this."

Hermione paid special attention to her breathing as she forced down a wave of panic. "I won't," she whispered, the only thing she could manage to say.

McGonagall patted her arm kindly before walking over to Ginny and Mrs Weasley. She glanced around and located Snape, standing off to the side and scanning their surroundings. He's still concerned, she noticed. He still thinks we're in immediate danger. No wonder he looks so tired.

The groups were nearly ready. She grabbed her school trunk and Crookshanks and dragged her things over to where Snape stood, who seemed to ignore her approach. Unnerved by his indifference, she set her cat down and pulled out her wand in order to shrink her trunk and free up her wand hand. "Reducio," she muttered with a wave.

Nothing happened.

Her stomach sunk as she stared at her unchanged trunk. This was a second year spell, one she had perfected almost instantly. Her magic had been weaker still, but it hadn't downright failed on her like this in well over a month, and even when it had, it hadn't failed on second year spells. "Reducio!" she cast more clearly, and stared at her trunk as it failed to change at all.

Frustration grew inside of her until tears started to well up in her eyes. She brushed them away angrily, and raised her wand again, about to try once more, when Snape spoke softly.

"Remember your training, Miss Granger. Clear your mind, and pull." His words were gentle, a stark contrast to the edge his voice held the night before. When she glanced up at him he was looking away from her, and she turned back to her trunk, a bit of clarity fighting through the helplessness that had been seeping in. He was right. What was her training for if not to teach her how to handle these situations? She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed her thoughts aside.

She searched for the feeling of her magic, deep within her, and when she found it she pulled. The warmth that spread through her as a heavy wave was enough of an indication that she had forced past whatever was blocking her, and when she opened her eyes to cast again, her wand arm tingled. "Reducio," she cast once more, clearly and confidently, and watched in relief as her trunk snapped to the size of a wallet.

She reached down and picked it up, and as she stared at it she whispered a simple "Thank you" to Snape, which did not portray the level of gratitude she wanted to give him. She saw him briefly nod out of the corner of her eye, never looking her way. Why wouldn't he look at her?

Kingsley was calling for everyone's attention. She pocketed her trunk and paid attention to his instructions, the same instructions she had just been given by McGonagall. This was it, then. The time had come. Ready or not, it was time to move.

He was giving the orders now, counting down. Three, two, one-

They watched the first group disapparate in silence. Hermione held her breath as she waited for anything to happen. When no one returned, McGonagall turned to the two of them.

"Severus, hold back a moment, just in case. All right, our turn ladies, look sharp: three, two, one-"

With another crack, Hermione found herself and Snape alone outside the Burrow.

She picked up Crookshanks and turned towards him. "Do you anticipate any trouble?" she asked as he finally faced her. He raised an eyebrow.

"There are three dangerous men on the hunt for our heads, Miss Granger. Yes, I anticipate trouble."

"But do you really think they'd attack the same place twice?"

"I said they were dangerous- I didn't say they were clever." He looked around the yard once more, scanning the distance, and added, "It's been long enough. Get your wand ready, and prepare yourself. Three, two, one-"

They apparated in unison, landing in front of the gates, the grounds around them still showing signs of the battle from the day before. She spun around quickly, looking for any trouble, but saw none. Snape, also, seemed to be satisfied with the safety of their surroundings, and while he kept his wand in his hand, he did move forward. "Get inside the wards quickly," he commanded as the rest of the group circled them protectively. They moved across the grounds as one, and in no time at all the waterfall effect of the wards passed over them.

They were safe.

"Well, then, that was easy!" commented McGonagall as they all gathered together.

"You saw nothing out of the ordinary?" Snape asked Kingsley, who shook his head.

"No, everything was as it should be."

Snape studied the area past the gates with a frown. "Good," he muttered quietly to himself, though he looked as if he was still expecting something to happen.

"Are you sure you don't want us to walk you up to the castle?" Kingsley asked McGonagall, who shook her head.

"You've done plenty for us already," she replied. "Severus and I can take it from here. After all, the wards are quite protective."

Hermione looked over at Snape in surprise. She hadn't expected him to stick around any longer than he had to. But he was walking them up to the castle? He certainly was being thorough, though she had to admit she was grateful for it.

The time had come to say goodbye. She had been dreading this part, the finality of it all coming to a head as she embraced her loved ones, wiping away tears and promising to write. She would prolong it all if she could. But inevitably, they had to go, and she found herself and Ginny alone at the gates much sooner than she had hoped, her heavy heart beyond thankful her friend sacrificed her last two weeks of break to help her through this.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, Hermione followed Ginny as she began heading towards McGonagall and Snape. The sooner they made it to the castle, the sooner she could start to settle in. This was always going to happen, her separation from Ron and Harry, and once she got to the castle it would feel more like it was supposed to. She hoped.

The four of them began their trek up to the school, McGonagall leading the way as Snape fell behind. It was an odd sort of procession, she mused to herself as they walked along in relative silence. The castle was but a hazy gray blot in the distance, barely discernible from the cloudy skies of Scotland, but as they rounded a bend the quidditch pitch slid into view, clear as day. She thought of her recent time spent in its underbelly, falling apart as Snape picked up the pieces once again, and was filled with a growing urge to speak with him.

"I'll be back," she whispered to Ginny, and she slowed her pace until she was walking alongside him.

He did not look at her when she reached him, but kept his gaze on the grounds around them. "Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, and she picked up a hint of tension in his words. I wonder what has him so worried this far past the gates?

"Sir," she started, "I wanted to ask... is there a chance we could talk about yesterday?"

He glanced quickly in her direction before continuing his surveillance. "What about yesterday?"

"Well first," she said as her heart beat a bit faster, "I wanted to say thank you."

That made him look at her. "I'm sorry?"

"Thank you," she repeated. "For protecting me."

"Protecting you." He looked away from her again. "Miss Granger, you should not be thanking me. I should be apologizing to you."

"What on earth for?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "You didn't know what was going to happen. If anything, I'm the one that should be apologizing. It was my information that directly led to the attack, after all."

"Yes, well, if it weren't for me, you would not have had that conversation with Miss Weasley in the first place, nor would you have been attacked at all." He ran a hand through his hair, and he looked almost pained as he spoke. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in danger today."

"I don't see it like that," she replied, shaking her head. "You're as much a victim as I am."

He snorted dismissively. "I brought this upon myself," he retorted. "You should not have been anywhere near this."

"Do you think I'm not used to having a target on my back?" That seemed to take him by surprise and he looked over at her again. "I'm not only best friends with Harry Potter, I'm also a muggleborn, on the other end of a war that aimed to take away my rights as a witch. This isn't new for me."

"You're purposely ignoring the point-"

"No, you're being stubborn," she interrupted. "I'm just trying to thank you for looking out for me, but you're too involved in your self-pity to see the bigger picture."

"Excuse me?" Her bold accusation caused him to halt his steps, glaring as he spun towards her. She stopped as well.

"I said you're being stubborn." She wasn't sure if it was the lack of sleep emboldening her or if it was the adrenaline of the move, but she crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to back down. "Stop trying to shoulder all the blame for something that isn't even a little bit your fault."

Snape's face had become white, his eyes wide in disbelief and displeasure. "Do not speak of things you cannot possibly understand," he growled through clenched teeth.

"I understand enough," she snapped back.

"You understand nothing!"

He was looming in front of her, glaring, hands clenched tightly at his sides. Although she felt an internal wave of fear flow through her at the sight of his intense anger, she held her ground. "Then explain it to me," she said calmly.

"You want-" With a laugh of disbelief, Snape took a step back. "Merlin help me, you want me to explain to you exactly what being involved with a former death eater would bring you? Are you that dense that you can't figure it out yourself?"

"Where was this anger when I first asked for your help?" she argued. "Why is your past only an issue now that we've been attacked? If it wasn't an issue then, it shouldn't matter now!"

"This is exactly when it should matter!"

"What on earth is going on here?" McGonagall had stormed over, glancing between the two of them, still glaring daggers at each other. "Can this not wait until we are in the castle walls? Goodness Severus, it was you that was so hell-bent on getting Hermione to safety in the first place."

"Professor," Hermione turned to face McGonagall, Ginny standing behind her looking more than a little confused. "I apologize. I was just trying to offer my thanks to Master Snape, who was politely informing me of all the reasons I should be demanding an apology from him instead."

"If you were as bright as they say you are I wouldn't have to explain it at all," he snapped, and she shot him another glare.

"For goodness sake, Severus, don't be so dramatic," McGonagall huffed. "Just accept the bloody gratitude, I'm sure it's well-earned at this point." Rolling her eyes, she continued to the castle. "Let's look alive, everyone, we're halfway there!"

Tossing one last frustrated look behind her, Hermione stormed back up to Ginny.

"What was all that?" her friend asked, eyebrows raised in concern.

"Just a disagreement," she muttered, looking at the ground as she attempted to calm her frustration.

"That was a hell of a disagreement," Ginny said. She huffed in agreement. "Are you sure you're okay? He looked really upset."

Hermione watched as Snape stormed past them, taking the lead. "I was just trying to thank him for watching out for me," she explained quietly. "I don't think he's used to getting gratitude."

"He yelled at you because you said thank you?" Ginny asked disbelievingly.

"No," she answered with a small smile. "He yelled at me because I called him stubborn."

The two friends chatted with each other lightheartedly for the remainder of the walk, which helped Hermione's mood considerably. By the time they had made it to the castle doors, she had calmed down from her argument with Snape and found herself anxious to speak with him again, unwilling to let that be their last conversation.

McGonagall had summoned a house elf in the entrance hall to take up their things, and after dropping off her trunk and Crookshanks, she turned to catch Snape as he was headed out the doors.

"Master Snape!"

He paused in the doorway, shoulders tensing. "What is it now, Granger?" he growled.

"It's important to me that you know I don't blame you," she said in a rush. He turned to face her slowly, a look of suspicion across his face.

"Why?"

She took a deep breath. "Because," she explained, "I've enjoyed the relationship we've built so far. I don't want to lose it." She looked away, not brave enough to stare him in the face, when she added, "Plus, I don't know when I'll see you next, and I wanted our last interaction to end on a positive note, not... whatever that was."

When he was silent, she looked back at him, and saw him once again studying her, seemingly pulling her apart piece by piece with his impossibly dark eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, to clarify further, when he asked her a question.

"Miss Granger, what do you see in me?"

The question threw her, and she wasn't sure what to say. "That's... a loaded question," she replied slowly, but he cut her off, repeating himself.

"What do you see in me? Who am I to you?" He paused, collecting his thoughts for just a moment, before adding, "The way you talk, it's like you value me as someone important in your life."

"You are," she said automatically. "I mean-"

Snape grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side, glancing around as if making sure they weren't overheard. Her heart beat faster in her chest as he turned back to her, a serious look in his eyes. "I don't know how we got to this point, Miss Granger," he said quietly, "but it really is for the best if we go no further."

"What point?" she stared at him questioningly, confused by the direction this conversation was taking. His hand was still wrapped around her upper arm, his long fingers firmly gripping into her as if he were afraid she would run. "Where have we been going?"

"You seem to be under the impression that we're... becoming friends."

"And?" She hadn't realized the truth in that until this moment, but she felt in her heart that he was right. "What's wrong with that?"

"There are many ways that make it wrong, least of all the inappropriateness of it all."

"How is it inappropriate?" she asked. "Because you were my professor two years ago? Why should that matter? We're both adults now. Or is it inappropriate to enjoy your company?" she continued, cutting him off. "I can't imagine why it would be. We have thoughtful conversations, we-"

"It comes down to who we are-"

"And who is that?" she demanded.

"Granger, don't you see?" He exclaimed, shaking her once sharply with the hand that still held her. "This mess we're in now, it's because of who I am as a former Death Eater. And you, a war hero barely of age-"

"Yes, I am of age now, Master Snape, and would like to make my own decisions about who I do and do not call a friend."

He finally released her. "And you wish to call me a friend."

"I do."

"And what exactly would that entail?"

"I don't know," she snapped, "exchanging the occasional owl, for starters? Calling me by my first name?"

Snape took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hermione took a moment to calm herself down as well, rubbing her arm- she could still feel the heat of his fingers around her bicep. This was by far the most confusing argument she had ever had with someone- were they arguing about becoming friends?

"We'll discuss this later," he told her with finality, eyeing the others. "It's about time you get settled."

You brought it up, she brooded to herself as he walked away from her without another word. She returned to her friend, shaking her head at her questioning look, and pondered over what had just happened.

"We'll discuss this later." That's what he had said. She took comfort in knowing that he expected a future conversation, at least. That he didn't dismiss her outright. It meant they weren't done, her and Snape. There would be more to come.

Hopefully it would be far less confusing than their interactions from today.


Severus sat in Minerva's office, cup of tea in hand. The move was over, but he had hoped to discuss a few more safety measures with her before heading home. Minerva, on the other hand, had gossip on the mind.

"So, you and Hermione had a bit of a moment," she teased over her teacup. He frowned into his drink.

"You could say that," he muttered, anger spiking as he recalled the argument from earlier.

"What did she say that had you spitting fire?"

Setting his cup down roughly, he sighed and glared up at the portraits surrounding the room, as if warning them to remain silent. "She called me stubborn, and claimed I was too involved in my self-pity to see anything beyond it."

Minerva snorted into her teacup indelicately. "Well she's got you pegged," she chuckled. Annoyed, Snape glared at her instead. "She's holding her own against you quite well. I'm rather impressed."

"Yes, well, I rather miss the days she would quake under my interrogation," he mumbled.

"Oh that's nonsense." Minerva smirked. "You enjoy a challenge."

"I don't enjoy being insulted."

"That wasn't an insult, Severus, that was an accurate observation." She set her teacup down gently and folded her hands. "Have you given any thought to what I said last night?" Snape's scowl was all the answer she needed. "So that's a yes. And? What conclusion did you come to?"

He rose from his seat abruptly and walked over to the fireplace, leaning an arm against the mantle as he stared into the flickering flames. It took him a moment before he answered, but finally he said softly, "You were right- and gods do I hate that you were right, Minerva. I really do."

He heard her stand and approach him, her robes whispering against the floor. "So you care for her. Is that so wrong? When is the last time you've dared to care about anyone new?"

"It's better this way," he muttered.

She tutted behind him. "I doubt Hermione agrees."

He pushed himself from the mantle, facing her. "Hermione fancies us friends now, did you know? Asked me to write her owls."

"Well, I think that's nice."

"No, Minerva, it isn't." He began to pace as he ranted, frustrated in the fact that once again he seemed to be the only person speaking sense. "The more associated with me she remains, the more in danger she becomes. Just look at the threat she's under simply from meeting me for a few lessons!"

"Yes, and it's hardly the amount of danger she would be under if she were to receive a few letters from you. Can you imagine?" The sarcasm dripping from Minerva's tone was vastly unappreciated and his glare as he turned to her could not portray that enough.

"You would have me write to her then?" he snapped. "Send her little letters to read over breakfast, check in on how her classes are going, ask after her bloody cat?"

"Do you want to write to her?"

"Of course I don't-" he started, pausing as an odd urge disagreed. Did he want to write to her? Surely not to chitchat, but to check in, see how she was faring? "I don't care about her cat," he finished weakly.

"No one's asking you to write to her about her cat, Severus."

Feeling overwhelmed, he walked over and slumped into his chair again. Following suit, Minerva returned to her seat as well.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked softly.

He was quiet for quite some time, his hand to his lips as he considered her question. He knew the answer, he just wasn't sure he was ready to admit it out loud.

"I'm afraid," he started carefully, "that she will get hurt, because of who I am." He took in a deep breath and stared at Minerva. "That just the fact of me being me would cause her pain. I'm not a good person, I never have been, and the world will judge her for her association with me."

Minerva sighed and leaned forward, reaching a hand across the desk though she did not touch him. "Severus," she spoke, softly but with conviction, "You don't give yourself nearly enough credit. To hell with what the world thinks, you are a good man who put his own wants and needs to the side for years in order to correct a single mistake. Your actions changed the direction of the war and saved us all. You are owed a chance to be selfish after all that."

He never could take compliments well. He could never fully believe them. Her intensity hit him, left him stunned into silence. He looked away, uncomfortable.

"I am not the man you think I am," he whispered.

He heard Minerva sigh. "If there was one thing I could do for you, Severus, it would be to give you the ability to see yourself as I see you."

Silence fell between them. "I should go," he said quietly, an urge to leave overwhelming him. "Work to do."

"Yes, all right then." She stood as he did. "By floo is safest."

He nodded his thanks, and made his way to the fireplace. Powder in hand, he halted as she said one last thing to him.

"Write to her, Severus. You may be surprised at how well it goes."

He tossed the powder in the flames, and stepped through.


A/N 2: Reviews are always appreciated!