"Stupid, stupid, Stupid!" Hermione muttered furiously, pacing the rug in front of the dimmed fire. The room was painted in shadows, and Hermione half wished she'd wake up and forget everything like a bad dream.

No more Jonathan, Snape or stupidity on her part.

Arrgh! How could she have been so heartless? Well, he'd been prickly too, but she should have known that was just how he was. Prickly as a ruddy cactus plant, but it was not like her to be so coldly hurtful.

And she knew that Snape had loved Lily more than she would ever love anything or anyone. The man had sacrificed his life to make up for one mistake, one whose results were twisted and warped by a madman, so that was not his fault entirely.

And it was not the kind of mistake even close to some of which Dumbledore had made, just that Dumbledore never wore a mark on his arm to classify his mistakes to be for the greater good.

She didn't know how to approach this situation, and she wanted to make it alright again, or at least repair it to some extent. She had been somewhat relieved when Snape had (supposedly) died that night, but that was before she found out the true nature of Dumbledore's manipulations.

Even now she didn't realise the full extent of his grand scheme of things, but it was enough to make her regard Snape's death as close to neutral as she could. She had killed on the field; what made her any less of a murderer than any of the Death Eaters? What made Dumbledore's life any more precious than those she had taken?

That was the big realisation for her all those years ago. But she had brought it to terms: It was a war, they all played their parts, it was survival, and here she was.

She wanted to apologise, but she couldn't get in there; she was half sure Snape had blocked the Floo, and he would no doubt hex her six ways into sunday if she made an appearance anyway.

She sent him an owl, which returned, singed and worse for the wear, and eager to rip her eyes out. Hermione barely escaped.

She sent a patronus, and then another, and then another. It became a steady stream of patronuses, almost at regular intervals.

Then it came, some sort of response. The flames turned green, and a small piece of paper was thrown out with a "Ptooi!"

Even the letter was thrown out with irritated manner.

"Stop sending those infernal patronuses. I'm over run with otters who seem to share the same amount of intolerable energy as it's conjurer."

"Then talk to me, please. Let me apologise. I'm really sorry."

The owl came back non-singed this time. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I disagree," she tapped the quill to erase it, "I think we should, please, let me talk to you."

The owl came back with no reply. Hermione felt depressed, she didn't have the energy to make more patronuses, and the feast was hours away.

She slumped down in the armchair close to the fire. She should really draw the curtains, and forget that the whole thing happened. It was futile.

She almost missed the other scrap of paper that flitted in with a non-irritated manner.

"The password is Vivir," read the paper. Hermione was overjoyed, but first she curbed her enthusiasm. He would as well throw her out after the first word of apology she spoke.

And of course he'd throw her out on the first question he thought pointless, which was pretty much everything she asked.

Hermione showered quickly, donned a decent robe, and bringing her hair into some sort of order, she decided that Snape would not let her hear the end of it if she was too eager.

So she answered some un-answered mail first, called Minerva to assure her that she'd be at the feast, and yes, she would be happy to sit by her side at the table, and will be out for the day. She lied about meeting Harry for some reason, and made to leave. It wouldn't do to be too late either.

Snape was dressed and reading some notes when she finally made it through. He looked up, and Hermione noticed a pair of reading glasses resting on his enormous nose.

It seemed odd to see him so... normal. Disturbing actually, a bit, but she didn't back down now. She stood and waited.

"Well, have a seat if you must. You certainly took your time in coming here. Now say what you want to say, and leave me be."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, yes, you said that already, is there nothing else?" he sneered.

Hermione was getting tired of his attitude, but bit her lip. "I shouldn't have said those things," she looked up to see him staring blankly at her, "But you said hurtful things too!"

"I do not wish to dwell on what I said, usually," he set the papers down to stand up, "what you said was immaterial, seeing that I will never have to see you again. You have had your time and said your piece, now leave me be."

He turned to leave, and stopped, looking over his shoulder. "My existence will remain a secret, and if I find that you have spoken one word, you will not be spared, neither," he turned a little more so Hermione could see black flashing eyes, "will the person you have divulged to."

Hermione gulped, and he continued, "I always keep my promises, Granger, remember that."

"But what of your invitation to see me again the other afternoon?"

"I meant nothing by it, it was that man who made the promise, not I."

"I need to know how you managed it; you owe me that much!"

"I owe you nothing!"

Hermione took a deep breath; they couldn't fight again, "Professor, I really need to know. Please!"

"Why Ms. Granger, miss him already do you?"

"You could say that, but I wouldn't count on it."

"Then why do you need to know? Read about it, if you need to know."

"I have no time for that, and it would be rather useful if it came from who cast it."

"Ms. Granger, you will not let sleeping dogs lie, will you?"

"Not if I can help it. And," she hesitated, "I want to know what happened to your hair."

"I decided to get into fashionable state, visited a muggle hairdresser who wore a multi-coloured shirt."

"Really?"

"Of course not!"

"Ah, of course."

"Now leave, I'll owl you next when I have time to spare for your incessant questions."

Hermione muttered under her breath, "as Jonathan would be nice."

"You will meet me, and only me. Are you ready for that?"

Hermione supposed it was all for science. "I am."

"Fine then. I trust you know the way out. I have work to do."

And with a flurry of robes, he was gone.

"Well, that went well," Hermione turned to leave, throwing one last glance over her shoulder to the door Snape had disappeared through.

It was enough, for now.