"Hermione? Are you in?" The voice of Ron Weasley echoed into Hermione's living room.

"Yes, Ron. I've just arrived. Did you need something?"

"Can I step through?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed. She was tired, and had been looking forward to a bath, a book, and a reasonable bedtime. "Yes, sure," was her reply.

The green flames roared once more, and Ron's body materialized from his shoes up to his shock of red hair. He had an easy smile on his face and carried a small bag in his right hand. Despite her fatigue, Hermione was glad to see her friend. Following the end of their ill-suited romance, it had taken the pair a fair amount of time to return to a friendship steeped in a deeper bond then most could know. Gone were hesitant stilted back-and-forth conversational volleys and in their place an unrestrained bluntness developed in their conversations. It was always a marvel to outsiders to see the different dynamics Hermione held between her two best friends: Ron and Hermione's bickering and honest discussions rivaled that of any married couple, but the two could barely spare more than a familial touch; whereas, Harry and Hermione would never dream of speaking such harshness to each other, choosing to employ physical contact to fill the quiet spaces and convey meaning. And while Hermione would always rely more on Harry in her time of need, Ron was a welcome reminder that her world required balance. "Alright there?"

Hermione leaned lazily back against the soft sofa and toed off her shoes as she contemplated his question. The journal and note lay forgotten next to her. Ron crossed to sit next to her and cocked his head, indicating his need for her response. "Exhausted, but alright. We only had one new case in the last 24 hours, so the team collectively decided I could use a night off."

Ron placed the bag he brought on the coffee table. "I was at the Burrow, Mum insisted that this be delivered to you on pain of death."

Hermione opened the bag to reveal a large bowl of stew and a hardy chunk of hearth bread, both Molly Weasley specialties. She groaned in delight at the sight of the comfort food. "Circe bless your mother and her omniscient ways."

"Meddlesome ways, more like," Ron chuckled. "I was told if you weren't here, I was to place it in your refrigermater and leave a note. She knows you're working too hard, and I'm half-minded to agree until I remember all of those kids. How many total is it now?"

"Including the one from last night, it's been 82 infected in the last two weeks." Hermione sighed and closed the bag. She used her wand to levitate it to the kitchen, she would eat when Ron left, and she had had a long bath. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squinted her eyes shut, fatigue beginning to settle heavily in her. "But we've had 25 show enough improvement to be sent home, and another 18 sent to observation floors to be discharged in the next couple of days. Thank Merlin we didn't lose any of them."

Ron nodded along and shifted to pick up the forgotten journal and note on the sofa. "What's this?"

Hermione opened her eyes and turned her body towards her friend. She drew her legs underneath her and settled her back against the corner of the sofa. "I just received that when I arrived home. It's from Severus."

"Severus." Ron rolled the name slowly off his tongue. Hermione internally cringed at how it sounded coming from his mouth, but she noticed that it held no malice or judgement. "Does he normally send you ratty old diaries?"

Hermione released a chuckling breath. "It's a journal from his experiments with scar-reducing salve. I gave him some of mine, which works better than what he created, but he thought I could use his notes for my patients. It was really quite…generous of him."

Hermione watched Ron carefully as she spoke. The topic of Severus Snape was not one they had discussed much since her initial visit with the older professor. She knew Ron fought against his preconceived notions of the man, worked hard to move past old grudges and prejudices, but she couldn't tell if Ron minded Hermione's growing interaction with the man, so she rarely brought it up with him. Ron took a moment before he opened his mouth only to close it again. "Ron, does it bother you that I see him?"

Ron snapped his eyes to her face. She looked at him with concern. While she would never let any person dictate the actions she took in her life, it didn't make her immune from the importance of the opinions of those that she cared most deeply for. Hermione knew that Harry was cautiously supportive of her growing friendship, Ginny was perversely intrigued by what she thought Hermione found attractive about the man, Draco was teasingly pleased that he finally knew someone that could get under her skin and make her nervous, but Hermione did not know what Ron thought. She braced herself for his response.

"No," he began. "No, it doesn't bother me that you see him. I can't understand it, but there isn't much I think I've ever understood about you when you've set your mind to something. I just want you to be careful. He may have earned Harry's respect, and he's gaining your trust, but he was still a right git to you most of your life, and you know I have little tolerance for that. I'm choosing to believe that you know he's changed."

"Thank you, Ron." Hermione stifled a yawn and blushed at him. "Sorry, I'm really trying to keep the fatigue from catching up with me."

Ron awkwardly patted her hand and returned the journal to her. "No worries. I should leave you be."

She watched him rise from the couch and make his way to the fireplace. "Do you think you'll make it to Grimmauld for dinner Saturday night?"

"I hope so," she replied. "Thank you for bringing me dinner, and for trying to understand."

Ron nodded to her as he grabbed the floo powder. He turned to toss it into the fireplace when Hermione called his attention back. "Do you know what the date is?"

"It's the 26th, Hermione." The fire glowed green and Ron called for Grimmauld Place. The living room darkened in the wake of the floo network. She glanced a quick look at her watch and noted that it was just past six o'clock. She knew the bath and dinner would have to wait, choosing to hastily change her clothes and ingest a half-dose of pepper up potion. Just as she sat back on the couch and opened Severus' journal, the fireplace glowed green once more, and a full-timbered voice called her name.

"I'm here, Severus," she replied and made her way to kneel in front of the fireplace as his face appeared in the flames. "You sound well."

"Yes, quite." He replied. "I am sure I have you to thank."

"I should be thanking you!" Hermione called. "How generous of you to share your research with me. I only just opened your journal this evening, as it is the first chance I have had to be home in the last few days."

Severus nodded and regarded her as closely as one was able through the flames. "The outbreak has been rather extensive then."

"Yes," Hermione responded. "It's the most cases the community has seen since the late seventies. And only confined to children. But we have been fortunate that no child has passed from it, and the numbers have decreased to the point that we know we are past the worse of it. I am grateful for the opportunity to finally come home."

"Forgive me," Severus looked downcast. "I should allow you to recover this evening, it was presumptuous of me to call."

She saw him draw back. "No! Not at all! I'm very pleased you contacted me. I just…well, I was just hoping to have a spot of dinner before the floo activated. But I wouldn't mind the company, if you were willing to step through?"

Hermione held her breath. She saw Snape's eyes blink twice and his jaw set. "That would be acceptable."

She scrambled away from her fireplace and brushed a few stray curls from her face. Hermione could distinctly identify the nerves and excitement in her stomach as she watched the flames build and Severus Snape gracefully entered her flat.


A/N: Love it? Hate it? Found a little extra writing time today. -Archer