Here's another chapter, thanks to those who alerted and reviewed. Now, because I reaaaally would love to know what you all are thinking, I won't post the third chapter until I get over 10 reviews, so pretty please with sugar on top, take a few minutes and leave me a couple words saying what you think? Thank you!

Hermione awoke slowly, the sunlight caused a brilliant flash of pain behind her eyelids, and she buried her head into the pillow. She lifted her head inch by inch as she slowly became accustomed to the glaring light. She sat up, and instantly flopped back down as her vision swam and a roaring pounding began behind her eyes. Eyes closed, she tried to remember what had happened the previous night. The dingy pub she remembered vaguely, but how she had arrived there was still fuzzy. Everything after that was a swirling blur, and whenever she tried to think of what had happened, the memory faded away as if it never was.

Groaning, she tried to sit up again, face screwed up in pain. She propped her knees up, and started to rub small circles over her temples. Merlin, what did she drink?

"Whiskey is not known for its pleasant aftereffects," a deep baritone voice said dryly.

Startled, she whipped around to look for the owner of the obviously male voice, and instantly regretted it. She shut her eyes, and waiting for the vicious pounding to abate.

"When the ability to move returns to you, you may find a small flask on the nightstand containing a headache potion," the man said curtly.

Hermione nodded, and she heard the sounds of the door shutting Who was he? She pondered it a moment. The voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint where or when she had heard it. She groped across the bed blindly, feeling for the flask the man had mention. Her hand brushed the corner of a hard wooden surface, and she quickly found the aforementioned flask. Uncorking it, she sniffed. It smelled like a freshly brewed hangover potion, and she couldn't detect any traces of poison, so she quickly gulped it down.

Hermione sighed in relief, and opened her eyes as the pounding slowly ebbed away. Looking around, she observed her surroundings. She was in a small room with dark blue walls, and two very large windows. She was on a large queen sized bed, and there was the dark walnut nightstand on the side. The only other furnishings in the room were a small dresser, and a straight backed wooden chair.

Sitting up, she slid her legs out from under the duvet and over the side of the bed. Gingerly she placed her feet on the floor, and tested to make sure her legs could bear her weight. Finding they could, she stood up and looked down. She was still wearing the dark blue muggle jeans from last night, and the red jumper. Her clothes had the rumpled, slept-in look, and she frowned. One of her pet peeves was wrinkled clothes, and finding her wand on the nightstand, she quickly cast a smoothing charm on her jumper.

She opened the door, and peered out into the hallway. Cautiously she closed the door. Turning back around, she nearly ran head first into in a body. Looking up, she gasped.

"You can walk, I see," Severus Snape observed.

"I – you, where? Professor?" Hermione stuttered incredulously as she tried to register the information her eyes were giving her. "

"I am no longer your professor," he said wryly as he looked down at a gaping Hermione. "Close your mouth, you look like a fish," he snapped. He turned around sharply, and walked down the corridor.

Hermione stared helplessly after him. Severus Snape? It had been two years since his trial, and since Hermione had testified for him. He had disappeared after the verdict, and wasn't heard from again. There were rumours, and many people had tried to find him or say that they had seen him, but they had all been proven to be false. No one had seen him in two years.

She followed him warily, and was surprised to find the building they were in was much larger than she originally thought. She caught a glimpse of black robes whipping around the corner, and she followed them. She entered the room to see Snape sitting down at a long table, and the smell of bacon frying wafted through the open door on the other side of the room.

"Miss Granger, feel free to stop staring and take a seat," he said as he raised an eyebrow.

Hermione nodded mindlessly, and took the proffered seat. She stared at her old Potions professor. He hadn't aged since she last saw him. His black hair was slightly longer, but he still had the same prominent nose, deep black eyes, and sallow skin. She glanced down as a house-elf placed a plate in front of her, and frowned slightly. He had a house-elf.

She looked up at the dour man in front of her again. "Er," she cleared her throat.

"You are going to have to be more verbose than that, Miss Granger," he said evenly, not taking his eyes of the newspaper he held in his hands.

Hermione scowled but didn't respond, focusing instead on the steaming plate of food in front of her. Scrambled eggs, sausages, and bacon, and just as she though of it, the house-elf placed a small bottle of HP sauce in front of her. She drenched the food on her plate in the sauce, and took a bite. Finding she was ravenous, she quickly cleaned the plate off.

Finished, she watched Snape eat. Entranced by the small bites he took, and the way his fingers wrapped around the fork handle. She couldn't take her eyes off it for some reason.

"Miss Granger, are you enjoying yourself?" the ex-potions professor asked drolly.

"Er, yes, actually," Hermione said sheepishly. "I have a question for you."

"Depending on said inquiry, I may have an answer," Snape replied snidely.

Hermione sighed. The man really should have just stayed hidden, she thought to herself. "How did I get here? And where is 'here'?" she asked rapidly.

Severus blinked at her. "You arrived here because I brought you, and you are currently sitting in on of my chairs, at my table, in my house," he said. "I would have thought that was blatantly obvious."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Respectfully, sir, if it had been as obvious as you say, I wouldn't have felt the need to ask."

"I may have underestimated the intelligence of the famed member of the Golden Trio," Snape said indifferently as he turned back to his newspaper.

"Can you explain what happened last night?" Hermione said, ignoring his remark. "I remember entering the pub, but I can't quite recall after the first drink."

"You got piss drunk."

"I understood that, thank you. Its what came afterwards that I'm a bit fuzzy on."

"Well, what else do you need to be made aware of?" Severus asked dryly.

"Er, maybe the part where you grabbed me from wherever I was, and whisked me away to your private abode?"

Severus sighed, and put down his newspaper. "Do you need a step by step walk through, or would it please you to just know the basics?"

"I – well, the basics are fine, I suppose."

"You drank yourself stupid, and got thrown out of the bar for handing the muggle a galleon."

"How in the ruddy hell would you know what I did in the bar?" Hermione asked forcefully.

"I was there," Severus stated. "I would have thought that an obvious conclusion."

Hermione's face screwed up in concentration as she tried to remember if she had seen her old professor during the previous evening. She recounted entering the bar, and the table of surly workers, and then there was that man sitting in the back – Hermione gasped. "You were that man sitting across the room!"

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Forgive me if I don't applaud your impressive discovery."

Hermione bit back her retort, she figured it wouldn't do any good. "So you followed me out of the bar," she said accusingly.

"If I may reiterate, you couldn't tell one of your wand from the other."

"Well how long did you follow me?"

"Long enough."

"That doesn't bloody answer my question," Hermione said angrily.

"You may have asked a different question from what I hear, but I answered with what I felt appropriate," Severus said wryly.

"If its technicalities you're after, then fine," Hermione snapped. "How long did you follow me, and what event caused you to take me back to your home?" She shot the dour man a glare.

Severus stood up abruptly. "Feel free to peruse the first floor at your convenience. Do not venture upstairs," he said as he stood next to her. "I will know if you do." He promptly swept out of the room, leaving a very confused, and more than a little frustrated Hermione to stare after him.

How on earth was he supposed to explain to the chit that she nearly got raped because of her own stupidity? Severus groused to himself as he walked outside. He strode down the street, and made a left turn at the cross. He approached an abandoned looking store front, its dilapidated walls sagged down, the paint was nearly gone. He took a key out of his pocket, and entered.

Inside were shelves and shelves of jars and baskets of chopped up plants. A small sign appeared on the door, it read simply Apothecary, in large scrolling letters, and underneath was the word 'open'.

Severus walked up and down the shelves, checking to make sure everything was in order. It was necessary to do an early morning inspection, due to some of the more volatile ingredients. His perusal finished, he went to sit down behind the wooden counter. He never experienced a great amount of traffic in his shop, but it still made a fair bit of money. Just enough for him to live comfortably, which was all he needed. After the war, he had disappeared. He wanted to get away, and start someplace where no one knew his name.

Which is why he was beyond shocked when he saw Granger walk into the pub he frequented nightly. Of all the people he knew, Granger was the least expected to walk into the shabby pub. He wondered briefly why she had even gone to that particular location. It wasn't the sort of place you walked into for a nightcap. He only went because it was quiet, and no one questioned why he sat there for hours, nursing a single glass of firewhiskey.

After following Hermione, he had saved her from the men whom had tried to have their way with her, and took her to his home, repairing her clothes once he had laid her down in the bed, and carefully waving his wand over her body, repairing her bruised skull and wrists, and the tender flesh of her chest.

Granger should have known better than to rapidly consume five glasses of the powerful liquor, and it was a wonder the barman didn't stop her. Anyone could have seen that with her frame that one drink would have done the job of five. She was so short. He had been surprised again by that, but he supposed it had been a while since he had seen her. Almost two years since he had been since anywhere near Hogwarts, or the well known wizarding communities.

He recalled the last day he had been on the Hogwarts premises with perfect clarity. After the Dark Lord had set Nagini on him, he had given Harry the memories he knew the boy needed to survive, and had lain there as his lifeblood seeped out of him. But Granger hadn't returned with Harry and Ron, she had stayed behind. He remember how she had crept up to him, and how he had looked at her in wonder. She fumbled in her robes, and produced a bezoar. The miraculous little stone had saved his life, and it was because of her that he had lived to see the Dark Lord defeated. When the world had found out he was alive, he was instantly imprisoned. But Dumbledore had foreseen that Severus would face some difficulties after Voldemort was defeated, and he had set aside a vial of important memories, memories that would leave no doubt as to Severus's loyalty.

There had been a formal trial, of course. The Ministry couldn't be seen letting a prominent former Death Eater, the killer of Albus Dumbledore, walk free without one. Hermione had testified passionately for him, and so had Potter. He never thanked them. Severus had treated the entire thing with an emotion distance that made it impossible to feel anything.

It was well and good that he did, because after Hermione had saved him he had felt an unexplainable pull towards the girl. He didn't know what to call it, other than an unknown attraction. Whenever he saw her he had to bite down the urge to talk to her. That had been one of the main reasons he had left Hogwarts. And also why he was undeniably frustrated at the fact that the bushy haired witch was now under his care, figuratively at least. She was free to go when she wished. And why she hadn't left the second she woke up was beyond him.

Severus was startled from his reverie by the sound of the door opening, and his wards alerted him to the presence of someone. The shop was well protected from the muggle eye, so he wasn't overly worried. There was a clink of jars, and then a brusque looking woman approached the counter, and placed the jar on the counter without a word. Severus raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. He knew what was in the jar, but he pretended to look into it and calculate the price.

"Twelve sickles," he said curtly.

The woman nodded, and handed him the silver coins. Grabbing her purchase, she left just as silently as she came.

Severus returned to his thoughts, and tried to avoid the ones about the witch in his house. He shouldn't have left so suddenly, but he hadn't known how to answer her question. It was one of the few times in his life he had been rendered speechless.

Severus arched an eyebrow. It was a sort of irony that it would be the witch he found himself strangely attracted to that would render his abilities of speech useless. He sighed as a vivid image of her laying on the bed after he had put her down flashed across his eyes. Her thick, curly to the point of bushy brown hair, and her delicate features. How her small body had shuddered from a sigh as she settled down under the blanket.

He scowled, and turned to look at the inventory lists. He was thinking entirely inappropriate thoughts about his former student. He had watched the chit grow up, for Merlin's sake. Wincing slightly as he recalled how unbelievably irritating she had been in school, with her hand perpetually in the air, and her incessant desire to answer any and every question. He had taken many points from her, due to the fact that her lackwit friends had absolutely no skill in Potions and she was constantly hissing directions to them under her breath. If he had to be perfectly honest with himself though, it was only due to Hermione's instructions that neither Potter nor Weasley had single-handedly destroyed the classroom. Especially Weasley, he thought to himself dryly. That boy had the potion making capabilities of a blade of grass. Which was probably more than he deserved, seeing as grass was sometimes used in complicated potions.

He sighed, and looked at his pocket watch. Quarter to noon. It was early enough for him to grant himself a lunchbreak. He hurried out of the shop, and made sure to lock it before returning to his home.