Disclaimer: This is all for fun, I do not claim ownership of the characters or anything recognized from the work of JK Rowling. I am only borrowing them.

Warning: Mature themes, subject to change: mild violence, strong language, substance use or abuse, scenes of a sexual nature as well as general innuendo smattered throughout, adult themes including but not limited to death and disease both mental and physical.

[A/N] 5/15/2016 I truly appreciate every one of your comments or follows, and please feel free to ask me any questions on tumblr. I'm a bit easier to reach there these days since I've started a new job.

Beta-love: doctorhodes

Playlist: Gods and Monsters - Lana Del Rey | Hey Jealousy - Gin Blossoms

Friday, August 5th, 2005 | 7:21 pm | Loch Lomond

"Albus? They named him Albus?"

Draco loosened the tie his mother insisted on for family dinners, tossing it towards his dresser, the length of silk folding itself automatically and landing neatly next to the others. Astoria's charm work was brilliant, as always. He knew if she returned from her sister's with a room covered in ties, it would not bode well for him, as the house elves were tasked with leaving that particular mess alone. Sitting heavily on the end of the bed, he began untying his shoes with a mild sense of urgency.

"Harry tried to name him Albus Severus. He made Ginny compromise." Hermione filled her toothbrush and began to scrub in precise and gentle motions. "I'm going to have a difficult time calling him by his first name. And the smug look on that bastard's portrait's face when he hears about this?"

Draco scoffed inelegantly. "I don't envy McGonagall in the slightest."

A towel in her hands, crushing the water from her curls, Hermione walked past his bedroom door towards hers. The dive he made towards his closet, and out of her line of sight, would make any Seeker trainer proud.

Severus was holed up in the basement lab making volatile potions to vent his frustrations over the completely infuriating dinner. His clothes were already changed, or rather, covered by protective gear. Draco, however, needed to change out of his three piece suit before Hermione saw it and put two and two together.

"Are you two going to the manor tomorrow, then? Did the Aurors schedule with you yet?"

The strong scent of fresh lavender floated into the room with Hermione as she walked in and plopped onto the bed, still drying her hair. Draco wandered towards his chest of drawers nonchalantly to pick a pair of sleep pants and shirt. He'd made it out of the jacket, waistcoat, and button down.

"The Auror Department should be along Monday, yes."

"Is Harry joining the crew?" Hermione cast a drying charm on the towel then wrapped it around her head again.

"Naturally. Did you know that makes you look like a gigantic ice cream cone?"

Draco was so pleased she hadn't sniffed them out, that when the damp towel was thrown in his face, he only laughed.

Friday, August 5th, 2005 |11:36 pm | Loch Lomond

Shattering glass joined the cacophony of noises seeping under the door to the potions lab in the lower level. Hermione sat on the stairs facing the door where flickering firelight cast long fingers along the hardwood floors, lazily stretching towards her. The moonlight through the French doors withered the flaming lights before the tips could brush the last stair beneath her feet.

The parlor, an open basement facing the small yard and dock behind the lodge, felt cold after her day spent in muggy London. Even colder, still, compared to the heat of anger radiating from the lab.

Hermione closed her eyes and tipped her head back, pleading for patience from whatever gods or goddesses would listen. Tiredness weighed down her movements as she stood up from the stairs and shuffled purposefully towards the door.

Two solid knocks. One right after the other. Nothing cute or rhythmical or secretive; the same knock she'd employed for years when reaching out to her professors during their office hours, Hogwarts and elsewhere. One, two.

Silence, too sudden to be natural, pushed at her eardrums after the random symphony of shouted curses and breaking objects.

A click, soft as a scratching quill, before the handle turned.

Snape's hair was plastered to his skull from the hair grease used for potions, displaying his entire face to her. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen the reaches of his cheekbones, where they sloped towards his ears in two symmetrical lines. Snape did not cower behind a slightly opened door, but stood in the doorway to stare down at her with a glare he'd likely dusted off from his years as a professor. Or, simply the presence of a student he found to be an insufferable know-it-all brought the storm clouds to his eyes.

Hermione felt her own gaze narrow as her feet shuffled to a more offensive stance. "You broke your Silencing Charm twenty minutes ago."

The man could pass for a statue cut from granite for all the reaction he afforded her.

"Dammit, do you ever sleep?" she asked after several heartbeats, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her shoulder against the wingback chair near the doorway. "Or, are you losing your touch on casting courtesy charms?"

Snape curled his lip, the insult cracking into his steadfast resolve. He opened his mouth to retort, to say something she was certain could curdle milk, but Hermione cut him off before he could get it out.

"Don't even start. I know exactly where the two of you were today. I can practically smell the residue of that fucking Manor basement. And - no, be quiet - and whenever Draco visits his parents he hardly speaks afterwards. He fought that tonight, but still went to bed just after dinner. If he held that ward passage open for you today, for as long as I suspect, then he needs to rest." Hermione reached out a hand to poke him solidly in the chest, holding her finger there for emphasis. "And you do, too. So get your shit together, clean your mess up, and sleep on whatever's bugging you."

Before he had a chance to slap her hand away, she pulled it back, whipped around, and made her way back across the parlor and up the stairs. She wished she could jog it, but she was just as exhausted as Draco. Instead, she allowed the hems of her borrowed sleep pants to drag as she slid across the hardwood floor.

The cool kiss of her pillowcase felt heavenly against her flushed cheeks. Flushed? Bringing a hand up to her face, she felt the slight burn against her palm, and cast a temperature charm. Not a fever then. Without the immediate threat of illness her brain flipped the switch from annoyed wakefulness, to nodding off as surely as a newborn kitten, and she burrowed beneath her pile of quilts.