Severus was observing the sleeping woman. Their mutual past was shimmering before his inner eye. She slept peacefully, her face slightly flushed and her hair mussed. How he longed to brush the silky strands away from her face, caressing her brow tenderly, tucking a few strands behind her ear, and burying his face in the curve of her neck. What would have happened if he dared to do just that? He was far from being a lovestruck fool. What was that feeling that he felt for Hermione Granger anyway? Gratitude. He felt extreme gratitude toward her.

She made him believe in a better outcome when everything seemed lost entirely to him. She'd helped him discover something about himself that he'd been convinced he'd lost forever, that he'd forgotten in all the chaos and turmoil that had followed after Dumbledore's death... and she'd returned that knowledge to him just in time. She showed him hope; she taught him how to forgive himself. That much was enough to change his poor heart forever, and all thanks to this bushy-haired woman. He found a friend in Hermione, at least this thing was for sure.

Severus remembered how almost four years ago, Hermione came running to his office with tears running down her cheeks, smearing her mascara. He couldn't understand a word in between her hiccups. But he did not need to. All months prior, they had been working on the Restorative Memory Potion to help her parents, and she was literally shining with hope when she took the tiny vial from his arms and took the first flight to Australia. He remembered how worried he had been that night. He had tried desperately to convince her not to take such a risky and dangerous potion, knowing full well how unstable they were. And the tincture needed testing anyway. However, she'd stood firm.

After everything she'd been through, she deserved it! Severus remembered that he'd even offered to accompany her to Australia. She declined, of course. Apparently, their project didn't work. Not like he'd expected anyway. Her parents' memory wasn't going to be altered magically; it had been taken over by a spell that prevented the memories from returning. Hermione had cried. Severus had comforted her as best as he could. That night had been hard on both of them.

"They won't love me anymore," she sobbed, clutching a cup of herbal tea in her shaking hands.

"Who won't?"

"My parents. They're as good dead. At least to me. They're gone. Forever." Her voice sounded hollow; she clearly regretted saying that.

"That doesn't mean they won't care anymore," he said, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. "They'll love you, Hermione. Deep inside their hearts, they still know that they have a daughter. You can modify memories but cannot erase what is inside one's soul. Besides. tell me one thing," Severus' voice suddenly grew severe, all gentle tones were gone, when he voiced his question, "Why it is so important to you that somebody should love you?"

Hermione stared back at him; her face completely lacked any emotion.

"What do you mean, sir? Isn't that obvious?"

"Apparently, it is not so obvious to me, Miss Granger. Why are you seeking love?"

Hermione spread her arms in frustration. She suddenly felt that she was talking to an alien instead of her Professor. Severus kept observing her. He looked at her expectantly.
She swallowed. "If I'm going to be honest with you..."

"Go ahead."

"I'm scared, okay?"

"Scared of what?"

"Of losing everyone. Everyone I loved. Nobody would want me for me anymore, of losing my place, my way..." She paused for a moment, "You know, after the Battle and after I decided to continue my studies at Hogwarts, we grew apart with Harry and Ron. And even my former teacher perceives me now as one of their own instead of a student. This is so confusing!"

Snape nodded his understanding. Hermione went on with her venting.

"Love will not save you; it's not such big news for me. But it will hold your hand while you save yourself. And in a world that sometimes seems devoid of goodness, in a world that sometimes feels too heavy to bear, I think that is all we are really searching for. Someone by our side. Someone who grounds us. Someone who will quietly hug us for twenty minutes while we figure it all out. I think that is all anyone really needs. Someone who sees us for who we truly are. Someone who stays."

She might have sounded like a lost first-year Hufflepuff even to her own ears. But Snape understood what was hidden between the lines. It did not mean, though, that he would openly support her desperate yearning for acceptance. They had way too much in common. And look where it led them? Where had it led him? He tapped his chin with his index finger thoughtfully.

"You spent too much time in the company of Albus' portrait; you even started quoting his pathetic panegyrics about love. Or a place under the sun."

Hermione suppressed a sudden desire to throw her mug at him and muttered angrily.

"I knew that you wouldn't understand!"

"Yet, you came crying to my office. Why? And before you get up and slam the door, I suggest you ask yourself what is it you truly want and who you truly are? Not your mother's and father's golden girl. Not the forever helper of your lost case friends. Not even the brightest witch of her generation. I always found that particular sentiment repulsive, don't you think so? Ask yourself who you truly are and what you want to do with your life without seeking anyone's approval! And cease looking so lost and annoyed. you are far more than this."

Snape finished his strict tirade, squeezed Hermione's hand briefly, then stood up and excused himself, telling her that he needed to attend to his potion. She was left alone, staring after his retreating back in shock and confusion.

After he returned to his office two hours later, she was sleeping on his couch. He smiled to himself and covered her with his deep green comforter. He sat down opposite her for a brief minute, his lips curled into a gentle smile. He turned off the light and made his way up to bed.

It was late, and he had classes early tomorrow morning, so he decided to sleep. But sleep eluded him. The thoughts whirling in his mind were too loud and insistent. It was already getting late; he must try to go back to sleep. He pulled a pillow tightly against his chest and closed his eyes. He understood Hermione's desire to be loved too well it scared him. Too many similarities, far too many similarities...