Hermione rushed into the corridor, needing space from the others. She heard the professor suggest that Harry head off and check in tomorrow for whatever update she'd be able to provide. "What about Hermione?" he asked in response, as if they were at all in the same position.

"She and I will track him down."

"We will?" Hermione squeaked. Had she not already done enough when it came to finding this man? She certainly thought so.

Harry seemed genuinely aggrieved by what he perceived as unfair treatment. "But I want to talk to him." Hermione also thought this decision was unfair. She, too, wanted to be told to go home.

"Not today, I should think."

"Yea, Potter. Give him time before you harass him."

Harry glared at Malfoy. "I wasn't going to harass him," he pouted, but still allowed himself to be shown out by the blonde.

It was a much quicker walk to the foyer when following someone familiar with the floor plan. The women trailed slowly behind the two young men in silence. As Malfoy dismissed Harry from the premises, Hermione found the excuses she had been looking for to get out of accompanying Professor McGonagall. Most were weak attempts despite her eagerness to leave with her friend. Most also involved the phrase, "He hates me," or some variant thereof. Not one worked.

"Granger, he never hated you," Draco interrupted with not only confidence in his claim, but also sincerity. "According to mother, Severus never truly held the same ideals as my father."

"He was awful to me, Malfoy. Perhaps my heritage had nothing to do with it, but he certainly did not like me."

"Well, you are pretty annoying." For the first time, Hermione heard the boy's taunt with mirth behind it, and that notion was furthered by his subtle smirk. "He's a grouchy old man, and you're Potter's best friend… and yes, you can be absolutely insufferable… but you're, and I'll deny saying this if you repeat it to anyone," he directed his gaze upward and took a breath as if it were actually painful for him to admit, "you're brilliant. Magically, academically. It's rather irritating, to be honest," he chuckled and re-established eye contact. "Severus might not have liked you, but you were a bothersome student in a rival house, what did you expect? What's important is that he respects you, and I know for certain that he does."

"He looked horrified to see me."

There was a noncommittal shrug. "What exactly were these dreams you were having? I can't exactly give you my two knuts without knowing the full situation." Hermione blushed furiously. She felt her cheeks warm in an instant and then it was she who avoided his gaze. "Nooo…" his comprehension and disbelief both evident in the one short—though unnecessarily drawn out—word. "Well… Nothing horrifying about that," he winked at her, only to further deepen her blush. "Though I'm surprised to see you so obviously accepting of it. You sound more concerned about his opinions on the matter than your own… as though you might even be afraid of rejection?"

"Well, I'm-"

"Open to the idea?" She shook her head aggressively, denying the possibility of wanting anything to do with Severus Snape, but the blonde only beamed with uninhibited delight. It was clear he didn't believe her. "I had no idea you could be so naughty, Granger. A professor? The headmaster! of all people." He continued laughing, showing no remorse for doing so. "You really are a swot! Well, you'll need to come by and tell me how it goes. I'm dying to know," he drawled. "I expect to be one of his groomsmen… not like he has many options."

Unless she was mistaken, Hermione thought she had noted early a hidden eagerness behind, what would have then been, feigned reluctance to talk to her. Now, she was sure of it. He was enjoying this exchange. She needn't wonder why that might be, having been trapped in a house with only his mother for conversation. It almost made her consider visiting him, until she remembered how much of a prat he was. And he really really was.

"We ought to be going, Ms Granger." Hermione had forgotten about the other person standing there during that short time and was thankful for a reason to be rid of the prat, until… "Mustn't keep him waiting."

"I'm sure he'd prefer we did," she grumbled, causing the boy beside her to snicker mischievously.

From the end of the long pathway, outside of the iron gate, the two women apparated away to the same alley not far from Snape's residence. They walked—Hermione doing her best to slow their pace—along the polluted river, up the uneven street until they found the second alley feeding into Spinner's End. Last time, she had asked herself why they had not apparated themselves closer; this time, she was happy to have the time.

Before stepping out into the run-down neighbourhood, Professor McGonagall signalled for Hermione to wait. She looked down at her student for a minute before asking, "Have you two… well, I'm sure it's none of my business, but... Have you two been intimate?"

"No!" Hemione denied quickly. Too quickly. "Not as far as… Not completely., that is." She grimaced, feeling foolish for the childish wording. "I always left too early." They hadn't had sex, thankfully. She could only begin to imagine how he'd treat her if they had actually followed through with their very ardent attempts. If they had, if he had those memories of her, of her body… well, she didn't think that was something she could bear. She already knew how he smelled, how his tongue tasted, how his abs felt beneath his shirt, and she had a very good idea of how endowed he was. Naturally, she tried her best to not dwell on any of this, but it was incredibly hard. Evidently, very hard. Had she seen or felt any more of him, she didn't think it would have been something she could get over in the near future.

The older woman nodded pensively while Hermione tried to cool herself down after the pesky, invasive, wholly unwanted thoughts muddled her brain.

"I think I was so focused on finding him, I believe I failed you as both a teacher, and a friend." What first struck Hermione was the declaration of friendship. While they had always felt like kindred spirits in her eyes, she also understood that any relationship between professor and student would be unlikely, and improper if achieved. Now, older and having survived a war together, things could possibly be different, especially after graduation. She looked forward to a time when she could think of this strong woman as her friend. Next were the self-reprimanding words, which caused some confusion for she did not see how Professor McGonagall could find herself at fault for such bizarre circumstances. "For example," she explained, "I never stopped to ask how you were really feeling about it all, despite observing how distressing it was for you."

"It's a bit overwhelming," she shrugged, not giving it any legitimate consideration. "And I'm not sure if I understand what's actually happening or what any of this means… but I'm fine."

"What I really mean to ask about, Ms Granger—and I do hope you forgive me for prying a bit—is how you feel about Severus."

"Severus!" The levity of the situation hit her and Hermione laughed. "Could you imagine his reaction if I were to call him Severus?"

The older woman did not smile, she continued to study Hermione with an earnest expression. "I am only thinking, perhaps you should consider your answer before seeing him."

"I hardly think how I feel matters," she bit back. "You saw his face. You saw how he reacted to my presence."

"Yes, but I wouldn't put much stock in what you saw there. His facial expressions rarely reveal any truth to how he feels." She paused and only continued to correct herself slightly. "Unless he's angry, that is, but that wasn't anger."

"Perhaps not anger alone," Hermione countered. "Frankly, Professor, he seemed downright repulsed."

"No! No, Ms Granger," she shook her head vehemently. "He… if he was upset, I am certain it was with himself, not with you." Hermione had a difficult time believing this theory. Professor Snape always seemed to think very highly of himself, and rather poorly of all others. "I think you should forget what you think you saw, and determine how you feel. Do you care for him?"

This vexed Hermione, because she was quite certain about what she "thought" she saw, and what she saw was a man who had once—in one form or another—snogged her into a frenzy and then upon seeing her again, ran away, looking as though he might be ill. It was not confidence-inspiring.

Attempting to deflect the question, she asked, "Are you condoning a relationship between your student and a professor?"

"I don't recall your attendance last year."

Well that wasn't her point. If it had not been for the crazed, previously deceased villain who would have killed her given the opportunity, Hermione could and would certainly have chosen to attend her final year of school instead of being forced on the run to protect and serve her friend in fighting a war. Putting all of that aside… "He's twice my age."

"He won't always be."

"No… but he will always be 20 years my elder."

"Pish!" The older woman scoffed. "My late husband had over 35 years on me."

"Professor!"

"Story for another time, my dear," she promised with a twinkle in her eye. "Let's go now. Off we pop."

Before they had a chance to knock, the door swung open. The owner of the house snarled a bit and sent his coworker a disdainful glance, but didn't look once at his former student before turning away from them. The women followed him into the house without a verbal invitation, and both noticed how restricted his movements were as well as the pained expression he tried to conceal.

"Ms Granger, why don't you make a pot of tea. I believe you know where everything is."

She didn't think that needed to be pointed out. They all knew why she was brought along. "Yes, Ma'am." Hermione gladly left the two to talk. Being in the same room as he was so tense.

She filled the kettle with water and set it over the flame. Assuming Russ had similar predilections, Hermione was confident that Snape made his tea the muggle way. Then again, that might have had more to do with the fact that the man she had been spending time with thought nothing of magic—his mind had been focussed elsewhere. As the water heated, she filled the separate pot with four and a half scoops of the black tea—one and a half scoops for each drinker, in accordance to his preference of strong tea—and pulled down three mugs—the two she and he often filled but from which they never drank, and one other she rinsed in preparation. Once hearing the rolling boil, Hermione poured the water from the kettle into the teapot. After five minutes—and twenty extra seconds for good measure—she was removing the tea leaves from the pot and felt a presence enter the kitchen. When she turned, there was only one person. "Where's Professor McGonagall?"

"She left."

"Oh." She saw him struggling to move about. "Would you like me to-"

"Yes." There was a pause during which they only peered at each other. "You were offering to leave as well, were you not?"

"No," though she could no longer recall what it was that she had intended to offer.

"Perhaps you should."

He opened the refrigerator, while leaning heavily into the top freezer. Peering around his shoulder, Hermione saw how empty it was, which made sense. Even before the coma, he would have hardly spent time here.

"Professor…" Snape visibly stiffened at mention of his title. "Would you prefer I call you Russ? Severus?" She doubted he actually went by Russ, having only ever heard the other professors and Order members refer to him as either Severus or Snape.

He didn't answer right away as he pulled out the few items he did have. He spread out the few fixings for his sandwich and placed two slices of bread on a plate. She wondered how long they had been in there and if they were magically preserved. Once, several years ago, Hermione had a rather lengthy conversation with Mrs Weasley about the functionality of her kitchen appliances since they obviously did not run on electricity. The conversation was first attempted with Mr Weasley. Hermione should have known that such a topic would lead nowhere.

"No, Ms Granger. I would not." His words were sharp and more reminiscent of their shared time in the classroom than their time in the pub.

She didn't like that one bit. The way he spoke her name, it was cold and unwelcoming. And after having not heard him refer to her as such for over a year, it was also foreign, almost forced. "Not sure I believe you." He turned back a smidge but otherwise ignored her. "I rather enjoyed you calling me Hermione. Ms Granger and Professor don't quite seem right anymore."

"Then I shall call you nothing!" he barked, still not giving her his full attention. "We have nothing to say to each other. I want you to leave."

"Please," she stepped forward, placing her hands down on his. "Allow me." He tossed her hands aside and attempted to continue assembling his lunch with shaky hands. "You can barely stand."

"I'm fine," he argued.

"Let me-"

"I said I'm fine!" He whipped around, his eyes glaring, nostrils flaring.

She stumbled back several steps. It was jarring to hear him speak to her in that tone. His voice, still as baritone as ever, was no longer as velvety smooth as it once was. Damage done by the snake bite resulted in a gravely texture that suited him just as well, but also added to the vitriol when he chose to be his surly old self. She didn't like this side of him. She didn't want him to be cruel to her, and not wanting to listen to him, she almost left.

Then she resolved herself. "No." She slipped between him and the counter and planted herself in front of him, which was a questionable decision as it placed her so close to his chest that she needed to crank her neck back to look him in the eyes. "You were in a coma for a full month. If it wasn't for your astral self moving about you probably wouldn't be able to walk right now."

He was hunched over more than she had ever seen him before. His body looked worn and tired, barely holding itself upright. "Move." He trembled slightly under the strain of exhaustion, but his wrath was unmistakable.

"Go sit down before you hurt yourself, otherwise I'll resort to the body bind."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me!" She stood up straighter, forcing him to lean back lest their noses touched. "I set your cloak on fire when I was twelve. Believe me when I tell you that the last few years have really skewed the line between the things I would and wouldn't dare do." The tip of her finger pressed into his chest as she softly, but pointedly, encouraged him to back down. "Now, sit down and drink the tea while I make your sandwich."

Astonishingly, he did.

Yes, he sneered at her. He grumbled something about know-it-alls and self-righteous twits. But he did. He obeyed without putting up a real fight at all. Instead of offering to help the invalid into his seat, she graciously turned away and allowed him, what probably felt like, his last shred of dignity in such a predicament.

When glancing back to make sure he was finally situated, she noted his frustration when taking a sip of his perfectly crafted tea, brewed to his specific requirements. She worked quicking and placed the sandwich down in front of him, receiving no words of gratitude.

As he ate, she made him enough soup to last several days and somehow ignored the intense glare she felt on her back. She asked if he had any containers; he gave no indication of answering her. If it hadn't been for the raised eyebrow, Hermione might have believed that he hadn't heard her question. "You're incorrigible," she huffed, as she reached her arm into her beaded bag up to her shoulder.

"That's illegal."

This caused Hermione to roll her eyes. Of course the only thing he had willingly to say came in the form of a reprimand. "Yes, I'm aware." Undetectable extension charms were subject to strict Ministry control and, sure, technically not authorised for private use but that was hardly the worst thing either of them have ever done.

"Then you shouldn't be so foolish as to flaunt it."

"Are you going to tattle on me, Severus?" He was notably displeased with her sass and the use of his name; she was taking several liberties but she didn't have the time nor the patience to care. Finally, she found what she had been seeking. A relatively large glass jar, which she then duplicated several times and into which she separated the soup. After placing a stasis charm on each, she stored the jars in the potentially muggle refrigerator. "Is there anything else-"

"No. Leave."

"Why are you acting like this?"

"And how should I act?" He stood, faster than she expected in his condition. Within seconds, he was in front of her again. His frame towered over like he had so many times before, making her feel small. Weak… perhaps slightly aroused. "Like the man in the pub?" She mimicked his steps until her back was flat against the counter where he planted his left arm by her side. "Like I find you attractive?" He held her entire jaw in his other hand and leaned deeper into her. For the first time, she truly felt the warmth of his body and it was exactly as she had imagined it would be. It was exactly as she dreamt it. Her eyes flitted down to his lips and she wondered if they would, to use his words, taste the same. "Don't delude yourself into thinking that you want me," he whispered, "because I certainly don't want you."

She swatted his hand from her face and steeled her features, preventing him from seeing how his words cut her. Regardless of what she told Minvera—and herself—despite her confusion, it hurt to hear him be so spiteful after a month of dreaming about their passion for each other. Especially when standing where they had before, as two versions of themselves giving in.

"Perhaps I'll go then." The bastard only smirked down at her, so she didn't bother stepping away before apparating. Hopefully her angry crack caused his ears a touch of pain.