Chapter 3

Snape was so angry after Hermione's ignominious departure that he was fairly dancing about the room with rage.

"What does she mean by judging how I conduct myself in the privacy of my own rooms?!" he bellowed, his eyes glinting ominously.

Fisting his hands and clenching his jaw with fury, Snape veered somewhat unsteadily toward his bedroom and bath. He headed straight to the sink and lifted his eyes hesitantly to the small mirror just above it. What he saw made him cringe.

So much for not looking as ghastly as I feel, he whispered despisingly.

The countenance Snape now beheld looked positively ill. He was even more sallow than ever, and the anger-induced bright pink tinge on his thin cheeks only served to make him look like some sort of garishly painted clown. His dark eyes were bloodshot, and his naturally lank hair was so shiny with oil that it appeared as though someone had sleeked it back with axle grease.

"Gods!" he grimaced quietly, his anger almost completely squelched by a return engagement with gut wrenching embarrassment. "No wonder she looked so concerned… No wonder she asked if I was sick."

In his shame, he found he could not speak her name, nor think it either.

He seated himself on the edge of his bathtub and let his weary, aching head fall into his hands in despair.

What have I done? She comes to look for me out of the goodness of her heart, and I despise her for her honest concern. I mock her, and send her away in the most humiliating way I can!

"Bloody brilliant!" he cursed himself, jumping up in his agitation. He felt completely out of his element. He did not know what to do with the mess that threatened to overwhelm him completely…the mess he felt convinced was largely of his own creation.

He had to admit it…He did not know how to proceed. He stood for a few moments in indecision, hating himself for being at such a loss.

"Enough!" he shouted suddenly, cutting through the air with his hand. "This situation is too delicate for me to handle on my own. I will have to speak with Minerva," he admitted grimly.

As he prepared to bathe, he wished he could just wash away not only the accumulated grime from his drunken spree, but the night's…and morning's…multiple horrors, as well.

If only it were that simple, he thought, chuckling mirthlessly.

As Snape performed his ablutions, Hermione was hard at work on the wolfsbane potion. She had long since given up on the Professor's appearance in the lab. It was clear to her that he was far too angry with her to wish her company, for work…or any other reason.

With a look of utmost concentration, she bottled and corked the now cooled potion, making sure to label it carefully.

"There," she said, feeling satisfied with a job well done.

After carefully transferring the vials to Snape's desk, Hermione pulled her wand to clean her workspace, starting with her cauldron.

"Evanesco," she intoned wearily.

That done, she 'evanesco'd' the inevitable spilled ingredients on her bench. Then…

"Scourgify." And, her tools were spotless.

After carefully placing each piece in her potions kit, Hermione inspected her workbench one last time, before pulling a bit of parchment and her ink and quill from the bag she never went anywhere without, and wrote her surly potions master a short note.

Hermione laid her note in a prominent place beside the vials, and, with a last longing look at Snape's chambers door, shouldered her bag and took her leave of the lab she had come to love almost as much as its master.

Still in a slightly hung over state, Snape slammed around in his bathroom for twenty minutes, trying to bring some semblance of normalcy to his appearance. When he had done all he could, he looked in the mirror once more.

"Passable," he growled, narrowing his eyes at his reflection. He still looked ill, but at least not frighteningly so.

He could do no more to improve himself at present. Besides, having decided on a course of action—namely cornering Minerva in her office for a rather important chat---he was impatient to be gone.

The thought of food positively nauseated Snape, and he knew that Minerva would offer him tea anyway, so he decided to forgo an attempt at eating for the moment.

He looked at the old wooden clock above his mantelpiece and saw that it was now half past ten. He hoped Minerva would be in. He did not wish to wait to speak with her on the matter at hand. So, without further ado he swung his midnight black cloak over his shoulders and swept out of his rooms.

With a practiced eye, he looked for anything out of place in his lab. Everything seemed to be as it should…nothing amiss. Then, his obsidian gaze fell on his desk at the head of the dusky, gloomy classroom.

In three strides, the potions master was swooping over his desk, one graceful, long fingered hand grasping one of the three vials upon it. Holding it up, he immediately identified its contents.

She had finished their work. She had stayed, after all that had transpired between them, and finished the wolfsbane potion. As this realization came to him, he saw the small roll of parchment lying beside the other two vials. He scooped it up, unrolled it quickly, and let his eyes scan it hungrily.

Severus,

As you can see, I have finished brewing the wolfsbane potion for Remus Lupin. I have also tested it for efficacy and safety, as per protocol. According to the results, the potion is safe and fully efficacious. (Please see my notes in the brewing log.) I understand you may wish to test it again. After all, it is your findings that matter, not mine, as you are the master.

That having been said, I would also like to sincerely apologize for coming unannounced to your rooms this morning. I did not mean to presume upon you, but I see now that I have. Please be assured, I will not repeat the mistake again.

I wish to apologize for what I said to you, as well. I realize that I have no right, or invitation to tell you how to spend your free time. It is none of my business, and it was wrong of me to speak to you so disrespectfully. I hope you will forgive me.

Unless I hear differently from you, I will look forward to continuing our work on Monday morning.

Most Sincerely,

Hermione

Snape felt a dull, aching pain growing in his heart as he finished reading. He let the hand holding her letter fall limply to his side. He had behaved reprehensibly and she was apologizing! Talk about fiery coals being heaped upon his head!

True, her behavior had been inappropriate, and she was also right when she'd written that she should not have pressed her opinions on him concerning his use of his private time. But, he knew now that his anger had not stemmed from any presumption on Hermione's part. The truth of the matter was that Snape had just been plain old embarrassed to have her see him…that way, and to cover up his shame, he had mistreated her terribly.

The truth was, it was he who should be apologizing to her.

Snape rolled Hermione's letter up and slipped it into a pocket inside his robes. His determination to speak with Minerva as soon as possible was now set in stone. He would wait not one moment longer than was necessary.

With that in mind, he set out for Minerva's office.

A quarter of an hour later, Snape knocked purposefully on the great oaken door to the headmistress's office.

"Come," a reedy voice entreated.

Snape took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He stood regarding Minerva McGonagall, headmistress and head of the Order, and suddenly he did not know if he could say what he had come to say.

"Severus!" Minerva greeted him happily, from behind her desk.

"Minerva," he said in subdued tones. He did not enter her office, but regarded her warily from the door.

Snape had always had great respect for the witch before him. She was levelheaded and brooked no nonsense, just like him. He admired her handling of her students, for she considered that a good life was a disciplined one. Because of this strongly held belief, she took every opportunity to instill discipline in her charges.

Minerva was also fair-minded, a trait Snape knew he could stand to improve in himself. He trusted her.

She was a faithful…friend.

"Severus," Minerva said softly, "Are you planning to speak with me from the door?"

Snape smirked at her and stepped into the room, closing the door solemnly.

"Oh, is it as serious as all that?" she asked almost playfully.

At Severus plainly disturbed countenance, she curbed her teasing hastily, and turned to the large, glassed in cabinet behind her to retrieve her ornate china tea service.

"Tea?" she asked as she prodded the tea pot with her wand. The little pot shuddered and spouted steam.

"Thank you," Snape said with begrudging politeness, as he received the cup of black tea she offered him.

"Now," Minerva said crisply, as she poured her own tea with a steady hand and gently stirred in two lumps of sugar. "Suppose you tell me what has happened to make you come to my office on a Saturday morning when you should be, if I am not very much mistaken, in your lab working with your apprentice."

Snape could have blessed Minerva in that moment, for her no nonsense attitude toward his uncharacteristic appearance in her office. Somehow, it comforted him and gave him the impetus he needed to speak. He decided to plunge right in.

"Last night, while patrolling, I came upon Hermione in the astronomy tower. She was alone, and I was curious as to why she was there at all, so…" he took a deep, apprehensive breath, "I watched her for a bit…"

Snape watched Minerva for her reaction to his practically admitting to spying on his apprentice. But, she only sipped her tea with an air of patient interest.

He felt encouraged by that, so he let the rest of his story tumble out of him. He made a great effort to seem dispassionate as he recounted Hermione's heartbreaking speech, his subsequent brainstorming session as to what it meant, his over imbibing the fire whiskey, and the confrontation between he and Hermione that very morning. Then, he finished with her apologetic letter and the completed wolfsbane potion.

Minerva regarded the potions master thoughtfully. He could almost see the tug of war playing out in her mind. It was obvious she had something to say, but was debating whether or not it would be wise to say it. Snape had no patience for her indecision.

"Out with it Minerva," he growled testily. "I assure you I do not need coddling. I came to hear your honest reaction. Please, do not fail me." It was a rough plea, but a plea nonetheless.

Minerva pursed her lips and replaced her now empty cup on its saucer. She leaned forward and eyed Snape sharply.

"I was wondering, Severus, how you would respond to Hermione if she were to confirm the suspicion that she cares for you," she said matter-of-factly.

Snape's eyes flashed and he jumped up with such force that the contents of his cup splashed out in an arc, hitting the carpet and staining it deeply. Minerva took no notice, but only waved him off nonchalantly.

"Oh, do sit down, Severus!" she cried impatiently. "It is a perfectly reasonable question!"

"It is nonsense!" he yelled, waving his hand for emphasis. "It does not matter what my reaction would be! There can never be a relationship between me and Hermione!"

Patently ignoring Minerva's request that he sit down, Snape began pacing agitatedly instead. Minerva stood, her face full of grim determination.

"And, why not, may I ask?" she inquired haughtily. "Honestly, Severus! It is not unheard of for two people who spend as much time together as you and Hermione do, to fall in love…"

Snape spun around to face her.

"Love?!" he raged. "Who said anything about love?!"

Minerva strode forward, determination in every step, until she was not a foot away from him.

"I am not blind, Severus!" she said, emphasizing each word. "Hermione lights up like a firefly when she is with you!" she insisted, poking a long bony finger into his chest. "And, judging by your current behavior, I'd say you return the sentiment!"

Snape reeled back, his eyes wide, face pale, just as much struck by the surprising words of his superior, as her rather too forceful jabbing.

Minerva drew herself up and gave him a satisfied look.

"Severus Snape, speechless," she said acidly. "I never thought I'd see the day. Now sit down and let's discuss this like civilized adults." She pointed an imperious finger at his chair.

So deep was Snape's shock that he could only do her bidding in continued silence. Minerva took her seat, and primly refilled her cup and produced and filled another cup for him, as well. The stained carpet was still being ignored by both parties.

"That's better," Minerva continued easily.

Snape's eyes were upon her as he waited expectantly. He had given up all pretense of having control of the conversation. He knew when he had been bested.

"Now, I wish to know why it is you do not think you and Hermione could ever have a relationship outside of the lab," she asked in an almost conversational tone.

Snape looked at Minerva, carefully hiding his incredulity.

"There are several reasons, not the least of which is our age difference…" he began.

"What ridiculousness!" Minerva interrupted. "Your being older than Hermione has nothing whatever to do with this."

"Pardon me if I think it does," Snape replied dryly.

"Nonsense," Minerva asserted. "You know as well as I do that a wizard's life span is at least twice that of a muggle. Besides, Hermione is extremely mature, and the two of you have so much in common."

"What, for instance?" Snape replied nastily, momentarily distracted from the question of age.

Minerva rolled her eyes, as if his question was too stupid to be borne.

"You are both very intelligent. You are both extremely fond of reading and research…and, of course, you both enjoy potions." she countered, a hint of smugness in her voice. "Neither of you is, shall we say, overly social. I'll wager you'd have a fine time just sitting before your fire reading together…"

"Enough!" Snape barked.

Minerva was getting a little too close for comfort. He wondered if she knew that he had, upon occasion, had Hermione in his rooms to do just as she had suggested. He leveled her with his gaze, but she only stared plaintively back at him, giving no impression that she knew anything about it.

Bloody hell! She is probably bloody omniscient, like her predecessor, he thought uneasily.

Minerva smiled at him genially. "I am only saying you seem quite compatible, having similar likes and dislikes." she said placatingly.

"Perhaps," he mumbled.

"What else is worrying you, Severus?"

"Well, Minerva, let's see," he said, his voice fairly dripping with sarcasm. "Let's start with the fact that I am a former death eater, and am currently working as a spy for the Order! How about that I live in constant danger, and anyone who is near to me would almost certainly become a target for the Dark Lord, should I displease him! Oh, and then there is always the fact that Hermione is a muggle born witch and the Dark Lord would not understand my interest in her, given I am supposed to hate muggles and muggleborns with the same fanatical passion he and his faithful followers do!"

Snape's voice rose in timber with every point he made, so that by the time he was finished he was positively shouting…And, he was up and pacing again in a desperate attempt to quell the growing, aching desire to obliterate the obstacles he was being forced to put into words.

Minerva, for her part, remained impassive, and this unnerved Snape to no end. He felt he must explode.

"Damn it, woman!" he spat ferociously. "Can you not see how impossible this is?"

"Honestly, Severus!" Minerva burst forth irritably. "How you do run on! Has it never occurred to you that we are in a war?"

Snape stopped his pacing and stared at her, his face full of his incredulity.

"Of course I know we are in a war! What do you think I have been talking about all this time?" he said, wearily falling into his chair, and resting his still aching head in his hands.

"Well, then," she continued ignoring his exhausted posture. "you know that war is never easy…and always dangerous…especially when one is in love."

Snape snapped his head up and looked at her, his eyes painfully questioning. Minerva smiled at him gently.

"Severus," she said, her voice almost caressingly soft. "Do you imagine you are the first wizard to find himself in love in a time of war?" she paused slightly, letting her question hang in the air a moment. "And, do you imagine that no other couple on the face of this globe, either muggle or wizard kind, has ever had to make hard choices and sacrifices in hopes of better times ahead?"

"I suppose not," he finally acceded softly.

Minerva's face was soft and thoughtful. For a moment, she stared past Snape, looking as though her thoughts were in another time and another place. It was some moments before she spoke again.

"There are solutions to your problems, Severus," she said in low, but gently emphatic tones. "You must remember that love is a force unto itself. In fact, it is the single most powerful force on the face of the earth."

Snape felt a shiver run down his spine. Suddenly, he knew this was a moment he would remember for the rest of his life.

He watched, as if in a dream, as Minerva got up from her desk and came around it to stand before him. Without knowing why, he got to his feet and faced her, his eyes searching hers urgently. She smiled at him affectionately, and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. He did not pull away from her, but allowed himself to find comfort in her simple, but meaningful gesture.

"Don't worry, Severus," she said, her voice quietly confident. "Love always finds a way."

"