Snape slept until lunch. By then, Hermione had ordered something light for both of them. She woke him up only when Wizzles had brought the tray, for she always felt quite nervous when it came this. Professor Snape gave a start and raised when Hermione spoke his name, but certainly did not shine. Hermione didn't want to tempt luck with phrases like 'carpe diem'. Her previous performance with the 'little plane that's gonna crash here he comes' routine had taught her a lesson: Snape didn't like kiddy stuff. On the brighter side, he let her feed her without complaining, and that was a start.
After they'd finished eating (potato salad with an apple), she wanted to ask him a question she had longed to since the day he had first arrived to the hospital wing.
She took a deep breath.
'Professor, would it be okay for you to follow a therapy with me?'
She knew she had better be direct with him; going straight to the point was better than turning around the subject with Snape. He had little patience and would be quickly tired after a few pointless questions such as ´may I ask you something?' or ´would you please do something for me?'. To her surprise, he chuckled.
´Miss Granger, you are so predictable. And to say that Albus insisted on you being different. He only managed to fool himself more...' Hermione watched him, confused.
´I see you're failing to understand my meaning, Miss Granger. Could it be that after all these years, I've misjudged you? Was I wrong to call you a know-it-all?' He grinned in a weird, devilish way. Hermione felt a little diminished; Snape's words seemed to insult her intelligence. It would not do. Nevertheless, she let him carry on, her curiosity getting the better of her.
'You'd like to achieve your psychological tests with me as your subject, don't you, Miss Granger?' She nodded.
´You think it be more...original...subtle...sophisticated... having a patient that has attempted suicide than a woman depressed from her menopause, or a child suffering from rejection, don't you? Don't you, Miss Granger?' He tsked. She looked outraged, he was merrily disgusted.
'How?' she looked as if she was about to cry. 'How can you say such a thing?'
'Face me, Miss Granger, and tell me that it wasn't what you had in mind.'
´MY FIRST PRIORITY WAS TO CURE YOU, YOU HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE MAN!!'she spat out, tears leaking on her cheeks. ´But you know what? Maybe I don't give a damn for you after all! Maybe I should think a bit more of myself, and not waist my time on ungrateful bastards such as you!'
Hermione stood up and stomped out of the room, without a backward glance to Snape, who was completely stunned.
He mastered legilimency, and therefore knew Hermione had been honest. He shifted himself up a little to listen to the wall behind him, careful not to make any sound. Hermione was in her room. He heard her muffled sobs. She must be crying in her pillows. Snape felt guilty for having made her cry. Why? he asked himself. It wasn't the first time it happened. He had made her cry the day Draco had given her those fangs... And countless times during Potions... Why did he feel bad now?
Because, you imbecile, even though you have treated her horridly, she still cares for you... Or cared for you... said a little voice in Snape's head. Congratulations Severus, you've pulled you final straw with the ladies. See now if you can find somebody else... Perhaps in the next twenty years or so, you jerk.
He hadn't meant to hurt her. Maybe if you stopped acting like a victim, it wouldn't have happened. But he was born a victim. He had always felt like a victim. Have you once in your life tried to behave otherwise? If only you could smile, even when there isn't anything 

specific to smile about.
He wanted to go to her, hold her, tell her how sorry he was, how he acted like a complete idiot and maybe add a few words of comfort here and there. But he could barely move, let alone walk to the other room... He didn't want to call for her, for he was certain she would not come. He had no choice...
Shaking, heaved himself into a sitting position, so that his feet touched the floor. He tried to stand up, but only fell back on the bed. He put his hands on the night table for support and pushed himself up. He immediately grabbed the door knob and held on to it, trembling. He staggered to Hermione's door and caught the door knob, but didn't open the door. He had the courtesy to knock three times, a difficult exercise in his case.
Hermione hadn't expected Snape to come, or even be able to come. Frowning, she asked herself whether it was Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey or maybe MacGonagall who was standing at her door and tried to make herself (and especially her hair) more presentable while walking to the door.
As she opened the door, Snape's knees gave in and he fell to Hermione's feet. She gave a little scream.
´Professor! What are you doing out of bed!'
'Hermione...' Snape sounded breathless. 'I'm... I'm sorry... Acted like a cretin...'
She bent down beside him and took his chest and head in her arms.
´Professor, it's okay, I'm sorry I called you a bastard.' He opened his mouth to contradict her, but she hushed him. 'No, Professor. You're not a bastard. You don't deserve to be called one, you deserve respect. And as for my demand, it was completely tactless to ask you right away, I understand your reaction'.
'Hermione, I tried to suicide myself weeks ago. You didn't ask me right away'; she smiled weakly. He smiled back.
´Lets get you back in bed, Professor.' Hermione lifted Snape to his feet and was surprised by his lightness. She brought him back to his room and shared her concern with him.
´Professor, I know your disease has made you lose weight, and that you have always been a slim person, but-' Snape raised his hand for silence.
´No need to say more, Miss Granger.' He heaved a sigh and looked tired, older than she had ever seen him. ´I... Hermione, I have a secret to share with you. About the poison I used.' She stood silent, wishing to catch every one of his word .
´The potion I drank is an invention of mine. A mixture of poison and a special aging draft I created. I had it ready to use for ages, waiting for the moment to come. I predicted Minerva and Dumbledore's intervention, I knew a regular poison wouldn't suffice, therefore the aging draft.'
'How does it work?' asked Hermione.
'It ages your body, but leaves your physical appearance the way it is: no wrinkles, no grey hair,... In other words, it makes you rot from the inside. Nearly impossible to notice, let alone to cure.'
´So that's why we couldn't cure you, all the time you've spent at the hospital wing...' Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face. She started to think quickly and hard, like if she was attending a hard test. Then it all came to her. The answer was there, dancing naked in front of her.
´Professor, why do certain people live older than others, or are fitter in their old age?' Snape looked surprised at being asked such a question and gave Hermione a now-is-not-the-time look. She carried on.
´The answer is simple, Professor: they act young. Lots of people live older nowadays because they never stopped living the way they did when they were youngsters: they listen to the same music, wear the same clothes, eat the same food,... Well, you get the picture...'


´Miss-Hermione, that would be a wonderful plan, if it weren't for this little flaw: I've never been young. I don't know what it means to be 20 years old. I've spent my youth under the orders of a tyrant during a war. Do you know what organizing torture rounds by the age of 18 turn you into? You don't think about fooling around, buying cheap beer with your friends or going out on dates!'
´Well Professor, it's my pleasure to announce you that from now on, you will. You can bet that, by the end of the year, you'll be back in the groove, Severus. No, Sev, it sounds better. Don't mind if I call you Sev, do you?' Snape looked gob smacked, but didn't object.
´Good, Sev.' The look on Snape face made her want to burst out laughing.
´Permission accorded, if I get to call you 'Mione'
She giggled. ´You're on.'
Snape had gained a little energy during their talk. He wanted to ask her something, but it was so daring... But it was she that had started the whole thing...
´Mione?'
´Mhh...'
'You do have feelings for me?' She flushed. Yes...
'I suppose I do, Professor', she said, avoiding his gaze. He took her chin with his hand.
´Would you like to... take a little nap with me... in my bed...'
She wrapped her arms, slowly, around his thin waist. He pulled her to him, and, ever so gently, their lips met.
They kissed passionately, holding tight to each other, both sharing the same thoughts...

Yes...