Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Wow... I'm a bad, bad author. I thought I had posted this chapter weeks ago, but apparently it got uploaded but not added. So sorry! Well, now you get two chapters at once. Gasp!

Enjoy!

Chapter 7: An Unexpected Complication

"Falsehood is cowardice, the truth courage."

- Hosea Ballou

Hermione awoke to the smell of cooking. Looking around, she realized that she was still lying on Severus' couch but that Severus himself was no longer there. She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to scrub away the numbness of deep sleep. She stood slowly, remembering her last attempt at a quick rising.

Her muscles protested as she stretched, working out the kinks that came from spending the night on a sofa instead of in a bed. She took a deep breath, and her mouth watered at the smells coming from the kitchen. Padding quietly to the doorway, she peered around the jamb and took in the sight before her.

Severus was standing in front of the stove, working a spatula in a stainless-steel frying pan. He still wore the same black sleep pants from the night before but had managed to throw on a plain, gray t-shirt as well. His dark hair looked freshly washed, and his face looked clean-shaven. A stray thought tugged at Hermione's subconscious: how many women had been privy to this side of such a private man? She couldn't possibly be the first, could she? No… it was naïve to think so, and naivety was something she'd left behind a long time ago.

She started a bit when he spoke, not bothering to look up from his pan. "Are you going to stand there all morning, or would you like to help?"

With a slight frown, Hermione pushed away from the door and walked up to inspect the contents of the pan. "What would you like me to do?" she asked, peering hungrily at the mound of scrambled eggs sizzling against the hot metal.

He gave the eggs one final toss and turned the heat off, setting the pan aside. "Are you capable of making coffee?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

She smiled tightly and ran a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. "Sure. I could use a cup myself." She looked around. "Umm…"

"Middle cabinet, top shelf," he said, motioning towards the other side of the kitchen.

Hermione nodded and set about making a large pot of rich, dark coffee. The beans appeared to be freshly ground, and they smelled like heaven… rich, dark, and earthy. She savored the aroma as she put two large scoops into to the top of the coffee pot. She had just turned the timer on when she chanced a glance at her wrist watch: 7:30 a.m.

"Oh, fuck!" she shouted as all thoughts of gourmet coffee were forgotten. "I'm late for work!" She looked around frantically. "Severus, where's your phone? I have to call the restaurant and let them know—"

"Already taken care of," he replied casually.

She stopped short. "I'm sorry?"

He took a deep breath and let it out, as if drawing up some much needed patience. "I have already contacted your employer and informed them that you are incapacitated this morning. I believe you have a stomach bug." He then pulled two plates out of the cabinet, oblivious to Hermione's look of utter horror.

"You called my boss and told him that I was sick?"

He nodded as he divided the eggs onto the plates, adding a piece of fresh toast as well.

Hermione was slightly taken aback. "Why? And how the hell did you get the number?"

"You have quite a few matchbooks in your purse," he replied offhandedly as he set both plates on the table.

Her mouth dropped open in outrage. "You went through my things? How dare you!"

He took a seat at the table and started in on his breakfast. "When you're through with your tantrum, your eggs are getting cold."

Tempered by his lack of response, Hermione simply glared at the back of his head for a moment before slowly sitting down. She picked thoughtfully at her plate. "Did they ask who you were?" she asked around a bite.

"Yes… they did," he replied, keeping his gaze lowered to his plate.

She waited. "And?"

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "And I told them I was… merely a concerned friend."

She eyed him thoughtfully while she chewed. "And are you?"

"Am I what?" he snapped.

She swallowed. "A concerned friend?" she asked quietly. She could see the tight set of his lips and the deep furrow of his brow. He was either angry or greatly disconcerted. She assumed the latter.

After a long moment, he looked up. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does. If I'm going to be stuck with you, I'd like to know that you'll at least try to be civil."

After giving her a long, calculating look, he nodded. "I suppose there is no use in trying to ignore the proverbial elephant in the room, is there?" he asked.

"I should think not." The coffee maker chose that moment to beep, and she stood and made her way to the counter. "How do you take yours?" she asked.

He glared at the back of her head before deciding against pelting her with the acerbic comment sitting on the tip of his tongue. Swallowing back the insult, he simply said, "Black," and went back to his eggs. Hermione nodded, unsurprised, and poured two large mugs, one straight black and one with two creams and two sugars.

After sitting the steaming mug in front of him, she settled back into her chair. "So… what are the facts?"

He took a long sip of the black liquid, both hands wrapped around the cup. "First and foremost, we know that I owe you… a life debt. Secondly, we know that you are unable to get more than a block away from me…" He trailed off and sat his cup down.

"What?" Hermione asked, watching his face.

"Interesting," he mumbled.

"Severus, what?" she asked again.

He looked up, his eyes flashing. "Stay there." He pointed a finger at her.

She started to protest, but he threw her a look that suggested it would be to her benefit if she did what he asked. She heard him cross the living room, and then heard the jingle of keys and the shuffling of his shoes before the door slammed as he exited the flat.

Shaking her head in exasperation, she turned back to her breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, she heard the door slam again and Severus reentered the kitchen, a light sheen of sweat on his brow and an unreadable look upon his face.

"Well?" Hermione asked from her position at the sink, where she was washing up the breakfast dishes. She didn't see Severus' questioning look as she scrubbed the frying pan.

He cleared his throat. "It appears that this is more complicated than even I realized."

"How so?" She set the clean pan on the sideboard and dried her hands before turning to face him.

"For starters, I was able to get almost two blocks from here… almost back to the Doll."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "How is that possible? I barely made it one block."

He paused for a moment as he considered her question. "I think it has to do with intent. I had no intention of trying to 'get away from you,' as it were, so I was able to go farther than the other night, when I could barely get fifty feet from you."

Hermione's brow bunched together as her mind starting putting the pieces together. "So… because I was intent on running, the magic only let me get a block away before stopping me. Why did I get farther than you were able to when you were trying to get away from me?"

He mirrored her stance, his arms over his chest, which she was fast coming to recognize as one of his trademark defense mechanisms. "I believe it is because it is I who owe you and not vice-versa."

Hermione leaned absently against the counter. "So, let me get this straight: as long as I'm not intending to run away from… this… then I can probably get farther than two blocks?"

There was a moment's pause before Severus nodded.

Hermione nodded her understanding. "Right." She paused, bringing one hand up to tap against her lower lip, which was currently trapped between her top and bottom teeth. Suddenly, she looked back at him. "What if I change my mind? What if I get far enough away and decide to run for it? What then?"

Severus sneered, "I do not think that either of us would want to test that theory. We know that I cannot get more than about fifty feet from you if my intent is to avoid things. We know that you cannot get more than one block from me if you intend to avoid things. I also know that I can get almost two blocks away, but only if I intend to come back. That leaves you." He gestured towards her.

"So… what? You want me to start walking until I can't go any further?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Shit… he was serious. Hermione sighed. "Fine, but I'm driving, not walking."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged.

She simply glared at him and stormed from the kitchen. A smirk crossed his face as the door slammed in her wake.

Half an hour later, Severus was sitting at his desk when the knock he was waiting for sounded on his door.

It was Hermione… looking fairly disturbed.

He let her in and went back to his work. "Well?" he asked as he reached for his pen.

Hermione drew a shaky breath and walked past him to the kitchen. He heard her keys clink on the countertop, and then the opening and closing of a cabinet door, followed by the clink of glass on glass.

Severus leaned back in his chair and peered over the top of his reading glasses. He watched as Hermione downed several shots of liquor in rapid succession. Only when she finally set the glass down and stood against the counter, her long hair obscuring her face, her body shaking, did he rise.

He discarded his glasses on the desk and walked slowly into the kitchen. Gently, he took the bottle of whiskey from her trembling fingers and replaced it in the cabinet.

She didn't move, but her breathing was harsh and shallow.

"Hermione…" he spoke softly.

If he hadn't been somewhat expecting it, he would have been startled, but when Hermione screamed in rage and threw the crystal tumbler across the kitchen, where it shattered against the far wall, he simply stood his ground. Sparkling shards tinkled along the marble countertops, flashing in the early morning sunlight. Several larger pieces slid across the tile floor, coming to rest at their feet.

Hermione sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She didn't cry, but simply sat there, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

"Tell me," he demanded softly.

She remained silent.

Damn her… he thought. He knelt beside her, careful to avoid the glass shards, and leaned in close. "Tell me, Hermione, or I will be forced to find out for myself."

There was a heartbeat's pause before she looked up at him, her face contorted in rage.

Calmly, he continued. "You know I speak the truth… our situation allows no room for falsehood."

Underneath her anger, she knew he was right. She dipped her head again. "I only got about ten miles."

He nodded. "Much farther than I thought you would get."

"That's not the fucking point! My flat is nearly fifteen miles away!"

It took about half a second for the realization of what she had just said to hit him. The blood drained from Severus' face as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "That is a problem, isn't it?"

She let out a short bark of laughter. "No shit."

He was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. "Well, any suggestions as to how we are supposed to deal with this particular… setback?"

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Either way you look at it, I suppose that one of us… has acquired a new roommate."

"Indeed," was his strained reply, his expression darkening as he scowled at the far wall.

Oblivious to his discomfort, Hermione simply stared blankly at the floor, shaking her head in disbelief.

~TBC