Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Thank you, DelilahKelley, for your help and advice!

They painted up your secrets

With the lies they told to you

And the least they ever gave you

Is the most you ever knew

And I wonder where these dreams go

When the world gets in your way

What's the point in all this screaming

No one's listening anyway

~ Goo Goo Dolls, "Acoustic #13"

She looked up at him, and he could see the desperation and fear shining in her soft, brown eyes. "We have a problem."

He sighed and ran a weary hand over his face. God, he hated being right all the time.

With an irritated huff, Severus reached down and grabbed Hermione roughly by the upper arm and pulled her to her feet. She grunted in pain. "Stop doing that!" she growled as she tried to snatch her arm away.

His lips thinned in annoyance, but he released her with a shove towards the open door. "Stupid girl…" he growled.

"Hardly…" Hermione muttered indignantly.

"Is that so?" he retorted as he swept past her, heading towards what she had earlier assumed was his kitchen.

"Yes, Severus, it is so. I haven't been a stupid girl in a long time, or have you forgotten?" she spat irritably as she followed behind, still clutching her forehead.

"Could have fooled me," he muttered as they passed through the doorway.

The room was sparse but elegant, just like the rest of the flat. The design was simple: a long counter ran down the wall on both sides, ending at a doorway on the left and a large window on the right. A small breakfast area containing a dark-colored, square table and two matching chairs occupied the far end of the room. A single light hung over the table; its tasteful blue cover lit up as Severus flicked the switch.

To Hermione's immediate right was a stainless steel refrigerator, flanked by a sink and dishwasher of the same color. Under the counter to her left was a large wine rack, filled to the brim with expensive looking, long-necked bottles. On the wall above the counters hung long rows of glass-fronted cabinets – the section directly above the wine rack held innumerable bottles of liquor, only a few of which Hermione recognized. Pristine crystal glasses sat in the adjoining section, waiting to be filled with something dark and expensive. Hanging underneath the cabinet were a dozen more glasses of varying shapes and sizes: long, fine-stemmed wine glasses; short, fat-stemmed brandy snifters; she even spied the triangular top of a martini glass.

Hermione snorted at the ludicrous mental image of Severus Snape leaning against a casino bar, dressed to the nines in coat and tails and sipping a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred.

"Something funny?" she heard him ask.

His condescending tone brought her back to reality, and she snapped out, "No," a little more harshly than she intended.

This time it was Severus that snorted in amusement. He tipped his head towards the table at the back of the room. "Sit," he commanded harshly.

She ignored him and continued to stand in the doorway, her hand still clasped to her bleeding forehead. Her eyes narrowed menacingly. "You truly are a bastard, aren't you?"

Severus simply raised an eyebrow.

Hermione let out an exasperated breath. "After all this time… While I admit you aren't the anal retentive hermit that I remember, – aside from the expensive flat and the expensive clothes – you're still the same mean, sarcastic, ill-tempered, git of a man from my school days."

"You seem surprised," he said casually.

She stared at him for a moment. "Yes, I am actually…" Her gaze drifted to the floor, and her voice was barely audible as she continued, "Because I once knew the man underneath."

Severus snorted and leaned back against the counter, unconsciously crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione looked back up and took a cautious step towards him. Her eyes – filled with what Severus could only describe as longing – pleaded with him as she asked, "Where is he, Severus?"

He turned his face away – away from the questions shimmering in her eyes, away from the long-buried hurt and sorrow that he saw in their warm, brown depths. Even after all these years, it still frightened him to his very core that simply looking into her eyes could affect him so. It made him feel… angry.

Weak.

Vulnerable.

Alive.

His thoughts were interrupted when she spoke again. This time it was her voice that pleaded with him. "Where is the man that became my… my friend all those years ago?"

Severus took a deep breath and let it out slowly, still avoiding her gaze. "That man is dead."

She took another step towards him, the longing in her voice changing to anger as she gestured wildly with her free hand. "I don't believe that! For God's sake, Severus, I saw him – I fucking talked to him… poured my heart out to him – not fifteen minutes ago!"

Severus felt his anger flare up. How dare she come into his home and scream at him in such a manner!

Before he knew what he was doing, he shoved away from the counter fast enough that it caused Hermione to physically flinch. Her legs moved of their own accord, desperately backing her away from the furious man storming towards her. She was brought up short by the doorjamb, and she cried out as her spine twinged painfully at the sudden contact. Her eyes widened as Severus rapidly closed the distance between them, slamming his fists on either side of her head as he leaned in. He was so close that she could smell the lingering scent of tea on his breath. He spoke slowly, malice lining each word. "Do not presume to know me, girl. You know nothing about me –" He raised one long finger and jabbed it angrily in her face. "— nothing!" he finished before pushing himself upright and turning away. Hermione stood frozen as she watched him run his hands swiftly through his hair, his long figners brushing it angrily out of his face.

Somewhat shaken by the suddenness of his outburst, Hermione took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. She was not really frightened by him, – she had seen far worse in her time – but she knew that she was treading on dangerous ground. The man was most definitely volatile, if not truly violent.

Even with the knowledge that the line she was walking was nothing more than a fragile thread of gossamer, threatening to blow away in the wind at any moment, it took all the willpower she possessed to hide the anger and resentment that pulsed just below the surface of her skin. She wanted nothing more than to lash out, to scream and throw things, to pummel his stubborn head in with her fists, but she knew it would only make things exponentially worse. Now that she was here, there were things that she wanted to know – needed to know – and she would do whatever it took to get those answers.

When she spoke, her tone was soft and complacent, belaying the icy fury boiling underneath. "May I ask you something?" When he didn't reply and simply stood in the middle of the kitchen, his head bowed into his hands, she took that as a yes. "How is it that your life is so… well, almost normal, when my life is complete shite? How are you the practically the exact same person when I can't even recognize myself?"

He gave a short, harsh bark of laughter as he lifted his head and peered at her over his shoulder. "Like I said… you don't know anything about me. My life has never been – and never will be – normal, Hermione. I am simply living with the consequences of the choices I have made."

"Is that so?"

"Yes… it is."

"So, does that mean that my situation is also entirely my fault? That I choose to do what I do?"

He sighed and moved to lean against the counter once more. "It is your life, is it not? Who else is there to blame?"

A look of utter bewilderment passed over her face. "How about the whole of fucking society? What am I going to do out here… in this world? I have no real education, no references or credentials… none that count out here at least. I had no other option, Severus, not if I wanted to survive."

"There are other places of employment."

"Don't you think I tried that? I worked at a big bookseller in London for almost five years, making minimum wage and barely scraping by. I was hoping to work my way up to management some day, but out of the blue I was fired and replaced by someone prettier and perkier than me."

Severus simply glared at the floor.

"After that, I suppose being a waitress in a shitty little diner that caters to drunks and whores was my next life's ambition? I've been there for eight years – eight horrible, miserable, God-forsaken years, Severus!"

He shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"I would have swallowed by pride and asked for help by now, but my parents are the only ones who might have given me the time of day… and they're gone. They were killed in a fucking car crash before I could return their memories to them after everything was finally over. A car crash! They never even knew they had a daughter…" Hermione stared off into space, her face contorted in anguish.

There was a pregnant pause, the only sound the humming of the refrigerator in the corner. When Severus spoke, there was no sneer in his voice. "I am… sorry for your loss."

She laughed bitterly. "Are you?"

He looked up sharply. "Yes. I do know what it is like to lose those you care about. However, unlike you, I had no friends in which to seek comfort."

Another bitter laugh. "My friends have been gone for years, Severus. They abandoned me after I told them about you." She looked at him as she said the last word.

A shadow passed over his face and he quickly returned to studying the floor. "You told… them?" he asked as he restlessly shifted his weight again.

"I had to tell someone, didn't I? It was tearing away at me… and who better to understand than my best friends, right?" She finally moved past him to sit at the table before continuing. "Ron," she sighed, leaning back in the chair. "I tried to move forward with him, I truly did. It was always expected that we would be together, even though we had never really talked about it. When I told him what happened between you and I… well, even though it was almost a year later, and he knew you were on our side, he never forgave me for betraying him, as he so eloquently put it. He was absolutely furious that I had given you –" Her voice lowered enough that Severus had to strain to hear her. " – what he thought should have been his."

Fuck.

Severus ran a weary hand over his face again. Never in a million years had he imaged the fallout from one single night of foolish, desperate weakness. If he could go back… he would change things.

Wouldn't he?

The answer that came to his mind was not the one he had sought, despite his earlier confessions: No… no, I wouldn't.

His train of thought was interrupted as Hermione continued, "The last thing he ever said to me was that I was a whore… and that I deserved you. I haven't seen nor spoken to him in almost thirteen years."

"Then it is his loss." Severus said quietly, almost to himself.

She seemed not to hear him. Her eyes were unfocused, moving absently back and forth as she watched the phantom shapes of her past play out across the ceramic tiles of his kitchen floor. "Harry tried to understand – he was always good at that – but in the end between Ginny, Ron, and all the others… he chose them over me."

Her eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I don't think he ever really hated me for what happened, but he was in love with Ginny, and she came before me." She shrugged. "I don't blame him. I would probably give up everything I have – which isn't much – to have someone love me like he loved her. Still does as far as I know." She paused, wiping at a stray tear with her free hand.

Severus' brow furrowed in empathy. He knew first hand what it felt like to want that kind of love… to yearn for it…

She sniffed as she continued: "Anyway… losing Harry was the final straw. If the savior of our world didn't believe in me… who else would? I knew what had happened between you and I would spread like wildfire thanks to Ron's hatred and Molly Weasley's big mouth. I also knew that the facts would be twisted… tainted to make you look like some pervert who took advantage of a young, vulnerable girl… and that I – in my naivety – let you. Both our reputations would be ruined. You were a hero, Severus, and so was I, but one moment in time, no matter how much I –we – wanted it, ruined my entire life."

He was still leaning against the cabinet, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms still crossed defensively over his chest. She looked at him, but he would not look at her. "Do you know what the worst part of the whole fucking situation is?" There were several heartbeats of silence before he met her eyes.

"It's the fact that I'm selfish enough to…" she paused, not knowing whether or not she should finish her thought.

"Go on," Severus said harshly, already knowing the words that were about to fall from her lips.

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath. "I wish some nights that I… that I had let you die… that I had let you bleed out… that I had simply stood by and done nothing. Maybe then I would still have my friends, perhaps even my family – the life I was supposed to have instead of the fucked up, twisted version that I'm forced to endure."

His response was simply to nod and return his gaze to the floor tiles.

She continued, a new anger rising in her voice. "But it won't ever be like that, and I realized that a long time ago. So I said fuck them! Fuck that world and their biased views and hatreds!" She slammed her fist against the table, and Severus looked up sharply.

She returned his gaze. "You were my friend, Severus – perhaps something more after that night – and my heart told me you would never abandon me. I was so certain you would be there when I woke up." She laughed cynically, shaking her head slowly. "I was so naïve. I walked around that house looking for you like some fucking love-sick puppy, but when you were nowhere to be found I assumed the worst: I fled because I thought you were at best ashamed, or at worst had gotten a good, quick fuck and now had no further use for me. I would have taken the rejection a lot better if you would have told me to my face, instead of slithering away while I slept!"

He spoke softly, his voice stilted. "I truly did not expect to find you gone, Hermione. I had stepped out to run a quick errand, and when I returned that morning to an empty house, I…" He sighed. "My previous fears had come to fruition: I thought it was you who had fled in shame."

She nodded, and the anger bled from her face, turning into a mixture of sadness and regret. After a moment, she forced a sad, one-sided smile. Her fingers traced along the grain of the wood tabletop. "Do you know that I was desperate enough to seek you out after my friends turned their backs on me? The man who had been my friend and then turned his back on me so cruelly –" He scowled at this comment. " – or so I thought. My life had been turned upside-down, and I didn't know what else to do. Hermione Granger – the most brilliant student of her age – was lost when put out on her own. In my naïve desperation – I thought you might want to see me. You weren't there – or you didn't care that I was on your doorstep, pleading with you to let me in, or to at least speak to me. I sat there for hours, Severus, in the cold, but you never showed."

He was silent as she continued.

"Well, after that I left and never looked back. You know the whole story up until about three months ago. I suppose it's the only choice I've really made that's actually benefited me… going to work at the Doll." She chuckled darkly, shaking her head. "I still wonder if it's worth it sometimes, letting men try to fondle me and stuff pounds in my crotch. It all started when one of the regular girls that comes into the diner, Jacqueline, told me that I was 'too pretty' to be working at some cheap grease-trap. She told me she knew where I could make tons of cash. She gave me her card and told me to give her a call if I was interested. I almost threw it away, but when I got home my lights had been shut off."

Severus sighed. He felt a pang of sadness for her – for a life so wasted because of a single, fucking misunderstanding. If only he had woken her before he stepped out that fateful morning… where would they be now? It was obvious now that neither had intended to reject to other all those years ago. Sadly, Fate had not intended their paths to be quite so easy, and in the end they had each assumed the worst of the other. Well, Severus knew first hand what was said about assuming…

Hermione continued, "I went for an interview at the Doll the next day. Two weeks later I had my first show. I was so terrified that I had to get drunk before I could even go on stage. But then I thought that these men were there to see me. They wanted to pay me to walk around and shake my arse, so why not let them. After that first night, I realized just how much money I could actually make – I never had to drink again before I went on." She sighed. "It doesn't matter though. No matter what I do, I can't really get ahead. The lights stay on, and I always have something to eat, but the flat is still horrible: I pay £700 pounds a month for a tiny hole in the wall, with a sink that drips all the time, a furnace that works some of the time, and rats the size of Pekingese that scare the hell out of me whenever they choose!"

She cocked to her head to look back at the man leaning against the counter. "So tell me Severus, am I still the same stupid girl you knew all those years ago?"

"I stand corrected."

"You're fucking right you do!" She sat there in the dim light of his kitchen, her chest heaving as she watched him.

After a moment, he spoke, "If you will… please," the word seemed strained, unfamiliar, "let me, I'll take care of that for you." He motioned to her forehead, where during her speech more blood had worked its way from under her hand. It was mixing with the other to trail down her cheek and drip off her jaw onto her shirt. "It would not be wise to let it fester any longer than it has."

Glaring at him once more, she threw up her free hand up in resignation. Severus nodded and turned to the row of cabinets behind him.

"So," he spoke tightly, "how far did you get?"

"What?" she said irritably, cocking her head as she watched him open one of the cabinets and rummage through the contents.

"I asked," his voice was muffled from behind the cabinet door, "how far you were able to run before being brought up short." He closed the door and walked towards her, a clean cloth, some ointment, and a small bandage in his hand. He set them down on the table. Going back to the cabinet, he pulled out a small bowl which he filled with warm water from the tap. He set it to the side and washed his hands thoroughly before coming to sit opposite her.

He reached for her hand, but Hermione snatched away.

"I do not intend to let you exsanguinate yourself in my kitchen, Hermione," he said firmly.

She sighed in irritated acquiescence, and he once more reached towards her. She watched him warily as he wrapped his long, fine-boned fingers around her own short, blood-stained ones. She could feel small calluses on the tips of those fingers as she reluctantly let him pull her hand away.

He frowned. She had a thin, superficial gash that started at her hairline and ran down over her left eyebrow. Blood had already crusted in her hair, matting the brown locks into a sticky mess. Severus huffed and reached for the cloth. As he dipped it into the bowl of water, Hermione noticed the blood smeared across the pale skin of his hand. She had to shut her eyes against the vivid flashes that reminded her of the last time she had seen those delicate hands stained red.

As the memories faded, she opened her eyes and watched him work as best she could from her angle. His brow was bunched in concentration. In the soft light from the hanging lamp, Hermione could just make out the beginnings of a five-o'-clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. He still wore the crimson shirt and leather pants from earlier. The shirt was buttoned incorrectly – the topmost button was one slot too low. The perfectionist in Hermione had to fight the impulse to reach out and fix it.

She resisted, and they sat in silence until: "One block."

Severus' hand paused a moment, and she could see that he was thinking. "That far?"

Hermione nodded. "I suppose I'm lucky I hadn't gotten up any real speed. My car simply… stopped. It was like hitting a brick wall, and then my head hit the fucking steering wheel. It was all I could do to turn around and drive back here. I thought I was going to black out at one point."

Severus simply nodded, concentrating on the task at hand.

"It's the life debt, isn't it?" she asked. "It's not going to let me leave." There was an edge of panic to her voice.

"Ever the master of the obvious," he said as he continued wiping gently at her forehead.

"No!" She stood up suddenly, her chair falling to the floor with a clatter. Severus set the bloodied rag down passively. Hermione had a frantic look about her, which concerned him. Should she bolt, he would have to restrain her lest something else - in all likelihood something detrimental to life and limb – happen. He crossed his arms as she started to pace, muttering rapidly.

"I cannot be stuck here! Not with you! You owe me! Why the fuck should I have to suffer? There are things I have to do… I have… I have responsibilities! What about my jobs? Who will cover my shift if I don't show? I'll get fired! What about the club? Jack will be furious if I don't come in! I can't afford to lose all that money! I'm barely getting by on double time as it is! Oh God… Cheshire! What about my cat? Who's going to feed him? What about… what about…"

Hermione's face suddenly went white, and her voice faltered as she staggered forward. One hand covered her face while the other reached out in vain, grasping at nothing but empty air as her body instinctively fought to steady itself.

Severus barely made it out of his chair in time to catch her as she fainted.

~TBC