OPEN AND CLOSED

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory. Sorry for the long delay, caused firstly by RL then by performance anxiety.

The story till now: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, furthered by exchanges of letters and occasional meetings, most recently at the ballet. But his past keeps butting in…

She set down the kettle and stared into her steaming cup, still brooding over the previous night. How could he make her want at once to hug him into happiness and to run away screaming? He was so broken. But she'd always known that. Always.

The Floo roared. She turned, gasped and flung herself forward. There were two faces in the fire.

"About time!" She tried to scowl, but her mouth would curve upwards. "Why haven't you written?"

Ron grinned. "Haven't had time to scratch ourselves. It's great!"

"They barely noticed our piddling little war here," Harry said with relish. "Italians couldn't give a rat's who killed Voldemort."

"So you're not sorry you went?" Scrimgeour was still fuming that they'd preferred three years Auror training overseas to the compressed one-year course he'd offered "the war heroes".

Ron snorted. "It was just sense, wasn't it? We need to know what we're doing. Can't just keep scraping through on luck and your brains."

"You have brains, too."

"Yeah, but we haven't always used them. Can't take your eyes off the Quaffle when the game gets slow," he quoted sagely.

She blinked. "When did you two grow up?"

"When you weren't looking," Harry said.

"Nah, we're still breaking rules. Not supposed to Floo anyone but family."

"Not even girlfriends?"

"Especially not girlfriends," Harry said.

"But Mandy –"

"Dumped me. But then I met Sonia." His eyes lit.

"Sonia?"

"Listen," Ron said. "What's with Ginny? She gone daft or what? Got this bee in her bonnet about you and Snape. Says you fancy him. And now she's cooked up a photo –"

"Photo?"

"From your birthday. But it must be fake, right? Because you wouldn't date Snape." His voice dropped and slowed for emphasis. "Not without telling us."

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it to gulp. She hadn't thought of writing. It had been their turn. She studied the cracked bottom tile of the fireplace.

"Why didn't you write?" Harry asked gently. "Didn't he let you? Did he tell you to dump us?"

"No! Nothing like that! It just didn't occur to me. I knew Ginny told you; she told everyone. And I've been waiting for you to –" Her lips stretched in a forced smile. "To send me Howlers, actually."

Ron scowled. "You're making the biggest mistake of your life. But it is your life. We can't stop you."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I see why you'd want to. He's brave and clever and, yes, I finally understand that he's one of the good guys. But he's still bitter and twisted inside. He doesn't need a – a – He needs a Healer. Not you. He's beyond your mending."

Ron agreed. "We get it, we do. You like sorting people out. That's why you followed us around before we were even friends and why you thumbed your nose at him all those times in class to help Neville. But you can't sort him out. You'll only break your heart if you try."