A/N: Another chapter up. I promise there won't be as long a hiatus in a while. Thanks for your patience. I promise to update at least once every two weeks.

This is not mine. The characters, world, and backbone of this story belong to JKR. Thanks for reading and the kind reviews :]

CHAPTER SIX

Another minute clicked by on the clock and Hermione was drawing closer to a state of panic. She sat nervously on the edge of a chair, hands clasped tightly and legs bouncing. Her gaze focused only on the fireplace before her, or the clock just above it. As another minute ticked by, making it precisely six-thirty, green flames shot into her fireplace and out came a man everyone else in the wizarding population thought was dead.

He sneezed twice (Severus Snape sneezes?) and brushed off his normal black attire. She stood, smiling nervously.

"We've, uh, got a bit of time before we have to apparate. Tea?"

Snape nodded his head once and followed her into the kitchen as she beckoned him to follow her. She already had the kettle on the stove and quickly set it to boil.

"The muggle way?" Snape arched his eyebrow, watching her prepare from the distance of the opposite counter he was leaning against.

"Yes. Its how I learned to make tea and when I do it by magic, it just doesn't taste the same." She shrugged and looked at his face. She saw something pass over it but didn't know what. He merely nodded again.

"I am inclined to agree with you," he offered. This small, innocuous detail about his personal life struck Hermione to her very core and she held it to her like a gem; proof that Severus Snape may not hate her entirely.

The kettle whistled shrilly and she about jumped out of her skin. He sneered at her small shriek and she busied herself with finding teacups for the both of them. When both had their respective brews a thick silence descended upon them again. Hermione, still nervous about the meeting and the fact that her former professor – a former death eater – was standing in her parents' kitchen drinking Darjeeling, felt the need to fill it. She opened her mouth and got so far as the first syllable of "well" before Snape held up his hand and gave her a pointed look.

"Miss Granger, I recognize your need to constantly hear your own voice, but I assure you that verbal skills will not desert you if you are silent for a small period of your life. If you speak one word of chatter while I am enjoying my tea, I will turn you into an earthworm."

She huffed indignantly, but wisely said nothing until she finished her tea.

"Ready?"

Snape scowled and took her offered arm. They would have to apparate directly onto the doorstep, hopefully not crushing any Order members who may be attempting to enter 12 Grimmauld Place. He raised his wand, disillusioning himself and as soon as she couldn't see him, Hermione turned on her heel and they were gone with a pop.

***

None were toppled over in transit and Hermione and disillusioned Snape entered the headquarters quietly. There was quiet chatter coming from the kitchen and Hermione felt an invisible hand wrap around her arm and hot breath on her hair.

"I will be out of the way, but beside you."

She nodded and walked through the kitchen door, opening it wider than necessary to ensure that Snape could also make it inside. As soon as she entered the room burst into welcomes. She beamed at everyone, leaning over to give Mrs. Weasley, who was closest to the door, a hug. She was quickly enveloped in the arms of Ron, who placed a kiss on her temple.

Greetings were exchanged with the rest of the room, as well as hugs from Harry, Ginny, and Kingsley.

Small talk was made as the remaining Order members filtered in, exchanging greetings of their own. Hermione tried extremely hard to keep her eyes from casting about trying to locate the invisible potions master, and to quell her mounting anxiety about the revelation she was about to make. Harry spoke up, commanding the room as soon as the last members had arrived.

"Alright everyone, Hermione has something important to tell us all," he said simply and the room fell quiet as everyone took their places along the table, all staring at Harry and Hermione at the head of the table. She felt the brush of fabric against her leg, Snape, and swallowed hard.

"As we all know, Professor Snape's body was unable to be located after the final battle was over," she paused, letting the murmur of agreement settle.

"Well, that is because I haven't been entirely honest with any of you," she noticed the shocked looks and smiled weakly. She plowed on before questions started.

"Professor Snape was severely injured after Naigini's attack. When I was cataloguing my memories for the aurors, I realized that I saw Snape swallow a bezoar before we believed he died. So, I went back with my time turner from third year and realized he was still alive. I didn't know what to do with him – it was still the middle of a war, so I took him back to my parents' house and healed him. I'm… so sorry to have lied."

She felt the movement of Snape's arm and he materialized in the kitchen.

Silence.

She swallowed hard, desperately wishing to cling to him, to throw herself in front of him incase the hexes came. She had never felt so anxious, not even for her OWLS. Harry stood up and she tensed.

He started clapping, quickly followed by Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the entire Weasley clan. The whole room followed suit, giving Snape a full standing ovation. It ended as Harry approached and offered his hand to Snape.

"Thank you, Sir, for letting us win the war."

Hermione held her breath, waiting for Snape's reaction. There was a beat before he took it, and the two people who possibly hated each other most, truced.

"Thank you for killing him, Potter."

The room burst into commotion and tears as the initial shock wore off and the members scrambled to hug, cry on, apologize, thank, or otherwise dote on the professor. It was clear he was uncomfortable, but he handled himself with more good grace than she would have thought possible.

He did however, glance up and make eye contact with Hermione, imperceptibly nodding his head in her direction, before returning his attention to the rest of the Order.

***

She was, of course, pulled aside by Harry and Ron as they (really just Harry) demanded why she hadn't told them about saving Snape.

"He might have really died. He was awful for so many days. I had to give him blood-replenishing potions every hour. It wasn't until I brewed a blood-purifying potion two days ago that he was better at all. He needed to be able to trust me, and that meant not dragging his two most loathed students, on top of already having to deal with the insufferable know-it-all, into the healing process. I wish I could have told you…"

Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione, folding her into a warm hug.

"'Mione, we're not mad. You did a wonderful thing, if anybody could have saved Snape, it's you," he paused for a moment, considering, "plus, now Snape owes you a life debt! That'll be bloody convenient." He waggled his eyebrows in a way reminiscent of Fred and George. She restrained a strangled sob at the thought of Fred and swatted at Ron instead, wriggling out of his embrace.

"Life debts are horrible things! He has been indentured to one person or another since he was eighteen. Now that this godforsaken war is over I don't want it to continue by having him in debt to me. He's done enough to more than make up for me simply keeping him alive. Don't you dare mention it to him or anyone else, Ronald Weasley," she hissed, staring at him furiously.

Harry's arm came on her shoulder and he nodded his head at her.

"We know. Ron was just being an arse, nothing unusual."

Hermione huffed, but nodded her head. Their conversation was interrupted by other members of the Order coming over to congratulate and thank Hermione for saving Snape and Mr. Weasley's pronouncement that there will be "butterbeer and firewhiskey for all!"

Kingsley Shacklebolt then brusquely pulled Hermione away as he thrust a butterbeer in her hand and began to pitch her career options in the ministry.

***

A much ruffled and inebriated Hermione Granger finally managed to stumble into the library sometime after midnight in search of some solitude. As she made her way over to her favorite chair, she abruptly discovered that it was also someone else's favorite chair, but only after sitting on them first.

"OH!" she cried, bolting up and spinning around, tottering only slightly. "I… didn't realize! This is a bit embarrassing."

"Miss Granger …" Snape trailed off, looking at her in a way she had never seen before. Or in a way she had never seen drunk before. She couldn't be certain. But in any case, he seemed to be at a loss for words. She should help.

"I sat on you! I didn't think you would be in here, you were talking to Kingsley for such a long time. Though, he did talk to me for an awfully long time too. You know he wants me to work for the ministry? I know that we've been given honorary NEWTS, but—What did he talk to you so long about? Are you going to work for the ministry too?"

She had never seen anyone look more annoyed in her whole life.

"No, Miss Granger. As I'm sure the sober version of yourself is well aware, I am technically a wanted man. We were discussing my trial."

"I won't let them give you anything less than an Order of Merlin!" She announced, placing her hands on her hips in a way that (though drunkenly) suggested this was indeed truth. "First class," she added for emphasis.

"Well, I hope they see things your way Miss Granger. Given my second lease on life I would very much like to not spend it rotting in Azkaban with the Death Eaters who see me as their ultimate betrayer." He looked grave and solemn, so she put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

"I won't let them."

***

Snape had dealt with drunken students before. He had been a professor and a head of house. Of Slytherin House. He had also attended enough social functions thrown by professors and ministry alike to be well versed in the blatherings that people of all ages were capable of. Everyone is a dunderhead, but especially more so when drunk.

He had not, however, encountered Miss Granger in such a state before and it had taken him by surprise.

Of course, she had started off their rather bizarre conversation by sitting on him, something that no one has ever, ever done to him before. And he didn't feel remotely inclined to hex her until she cried. It was actually very funny. Not that he would tell her, that would be insufferable.

He was tired and not looking forward to the following weeks of his life. Or months. Or year. However long it took for them to try him and Rita Skeeter to stop publishing absolute drivel about his life – all of which will become abruptly public very soon. He did not want to be crowned a hero. And what's worse, he absolutely did not want to go to Azkaban.

And apparently Hermione Granger was going to make sure he didn't. She also had very warm hands. Interesting.

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

"Hermione."

He was uncertain of how she was able to look so menacing in a purely feminine way (there must be courses taught by McGonagall) while in such an inebriated state, but he decided to consent, just for tonight. He told himself it was not because her hair was looking particularly unruly and her cheeks were flushed in a way that very much suggested passionate young woman. It was not because she looked more like how he thought she should than he had seen her looking since waking up in her care. Absolutely not. It was because she'd bother him all night about it.

"Thank you, Hermione."

She looked triumphant and his lip tugged upwards in the smallest of smiles.

"So, if Kingsley wasn't giving you job offers, what are you going to do after you're free? You won't have to teach anymore."

"I… don't know. It wasn't something I have given much thought to yet. Perhaps brew, do experimental potions. That's always interested me.

"And yourself? Will you be taking up Kingsley's job offer?"

She stopped smiling and frowned, working her lip between her teeth.

"I don't think so. I don't want to just … accept NEWTs that I haven't earned. But I don't really want to go back to Hogwarts. I don't … know what I want to do. I want to find my parents."

Snape was puzzled. He remembered something about the ordering of the murder of muggle parents. But at that point, it could have been anyone's. Though, in retrospect, her's would have most definitely been a target.

"Where are they?"

"Australia. I erased their memories and gave them new ones and I sent them to Australia. I don't know how to find them. Kingsley said he'd help. But they'd probably hate me. If they ever remember me."

She looked so pained, so lost he wanted to reach out to her. He remembered her hand on his shoulder and reached out and grasped hers for a fraction of a second (they were also small, as well as warm). It was an awkward gesture and he pursed his lips uncomfortably. She didn't seem to notice. Hermione bounced back into her cheery drunken mood as soon as he'd let go.

"You were handling yourself with quite good grace with everyone. I was shocked you could be that civil!" She smiled cheekily and he thought he might be enjoying their conversation.

"And now you are handling yourself with barely an ounce of decorum. I didn't know you could do so without a house-elf like reaction."

She giggled, then leaned in and looked very seriously at him. "That's not funny, you know. House elves are creatures with feelings too. They should be given respect."

Then, before he could break into outright laughter at someone seriously saying that inches from his face with barely focused eyes, Ron Weasley burst in to save him. Or perhaps her.

"'Mione! I've been looking everywhere for you. Mum's in a right fit because she found Ginny and Harry snogging upstairs. We've got to go. You're spending the night in the burrow, yeah?"

"I doubt Miss Granger is in any condition to apparate," Snape gave a pointed look.

"Oh, I was thinking about just flooing home, Ron. I'm rather sleepy…"

"Mum insists you come so you can have breakfast. And so do I. And we'll floo home Professor, not to worry. She's in capable hands."

"I suppose. We're leaving now?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, I'm sure Mum will come barking looking for us now too."

She shot Snape what he thought may be a disappointed look. "I have to go, Professor. It was very nice talking to you. I'll owl you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

Then, in a flurry or red hair and tutting, she was whisked away from the library and him.