A/N: Sorry for such a long delay! The past year has been insane, but now that I have some downtime, I hope you enjoy this next installment. Hermione is still recovering from her loss, but very soon she'll be back in her usual fighting spirit!

Chapter 11

Christmas left as soon as it came, and the days that followed were filled with a serene peace. Hermione and Snape returned to Grimmauld Place, leaving Molly to care after her own family at the Burrow. While being completely alone in the old house was overwhelming for Hermione, she found comfort in being there with Snape alone. Unlike their friends at the Burrow, he wasn't constantly asking if she was okay, or pulling her in for unwanted hugs. He was the only one who understood her emotions right now, her inner conflict between her need for space and proximity. In the three days since they had returned, they had only spoken for a total of twenty minutes or so, but Hermione felt closer to Snape than ever.

Despite their comfortable companionship, Hermione still found herself unable to fall asleep some nights, her head filled with confusion and embarrassment. She had never meant to kiss Snape that night, never in her wildest dreams. Or rather, if she had, she had only meant it to be a small peck on the cheek. And she certainly had never expected Snape to kiss her back. Her own experience in that department was sorely lacking, but even she knew that that kiss was anything but platonic.

So what does it mean? Does he like me? Was he drunk, too? Oh Gods, does he even remember? Should I tell him? Would he hate me? Or would he rather know?

Hermione briefly played out several scenarios in her head, each with a different way of trying to remind him of what had transpired that Christmas night. After mentally watching Snape hex her several times, she decided he was better off in blissful ignorance, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Two doors down, Severus paced his own room, deep in thought. It had been over a month since Albus's last report, and it was unlike the wizard to be late. Either they were making too much progress to be bothered to slow down and write an owl, or something had gone wrong. Severus wasn't really sure which would upset him more.

So soft….

He shook his head violently, as if he was trying to physically remove the intrusive thought. This had been happening for the past few days. He could scarcely go more than fifteen minutes before remembering his kiss with Hermione.

Since when have you called her Hermione, you old fool?

Severus sat down at the edge of his bed, his elbows propped on his knees.

She's too young, too naïve, and far too good for you, you old bastard. And besides that, she was intoxicated when she kissed you. She definitely doesn't remember, and if you were to remind her, she would probably die of shock. Or disgust. Or both.

With a sigh, Severus laid on his back and stared at the ceiling until he drifted off to sleep.

Severus awoke to a loud bang coming from downstairs. Exhausted and unimpressed, he rolled over and pulled his blankets closer. Miss Granger always awoke before him, and the pipes in this old house often creaked and groaned in the morning. Nothing to worry about, nothing to lose five more minutes of sleep over.

It was the following scream, however, that had Severus flying out of bed.

He descended the staircase two at a time, his wand drawn, his heart pounding. He knew that scream, he knew that voice. Miss Granger was in trouble.

As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, his fears were confirmed. Antonin Dolohov was holding a struggling Hermione, his wand pressing deeper and deeper under her jaw. With each prod, she whimpered slightly and fought against his grip.

"Ah, Snape," drawled Dolohov, "How nice of you to visit."

"Dolohov," Snape returned. "What are you doing here? The Dark Lord forbids the girl to be hurt. She could still be useful."

Hermione froze as Snape spoke. She could be dead any minute, and Snape was speaking as if he didn't care. His words voiced some concern, but only for her utility. Was this man really the Death Eater that so many believed him to be? She searched his face for any clues, any indication that the friendship she had built with this man wasn't just in her head, but found none.

I'm going to die¸ she thought suddenly. This man has a wand to my throat and Snape doesn't give a rat's ass what happens to me. I am going to die.

As a newfound fear spread through her, she tried desperately to break free of Dolohov's grasp.

"Quiet, girl! Stop moving!" Dolohov barked. "Or else I'll send you to whatever hell your muggleborn parents are in!"

Hermione froze at that, and once again searched Snape's face. He was expressionless, and wouldn't even return her gaze. Dolohov continued to speak.

"You see, Snape, there's been talk. 'Bout you going soft. Then again, who wouldn't want to be cooped up in a house with this pretty little thing? Even if her blood is a dirty as…well, your hair."

Snape still have no response, and had his eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind them.

"You've been playing hide and seek here in this house for months, playing with your potions set and the mudblood, and the Dark Lord grows weary. Your time is up, Snape. You've reported nothing for weeks, and even at then, your information has been shoddy at best. But me," he paused and looked around the room, "think of how the Dark Lord will reward me when I tell him I've found the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix! And who inside it, but our double crossing, back stabbing little half blood. Tisk tisk, Snape. This won't look good on your resume."

Snape sighed then, looking incredibly bored. "He sent you out looking for this place? You, who couldn't find your own arse if it bit you?"

Dolohov's face turned bright red. "This is my own mission! A personal surprise to the Dark Lord! He thinks I'm off in the mountains recruiting giants, but how pleased he will be by my gift to him! I will present you and the girl to him, after I have my fun first, of course!"

"Oh Dolohov, you idiot." Snape looked Hermione in the eyes as he raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione cringed as she felt the heat of the curse whizz past her head and hit Dolohov square in the neck. The man's eyes widened for a moment before he fell to the ground, dead. She stepped away from the body and walked towards Snape, her eyes never leaving his. When they were a foot apart, she stopped and tilted her face up to him.

"Thank you," she whispered, a tear rolling down her face.

Throwing caution to the wind, Severus slid a hand behind Hermione's neck and pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers. She initially squeaked in shock, but then brought her own hands to lay against his chest, his other arm going around her waist. While this kiss began as innocently as their first, Severus quickly took charge, walking Hermione to the wall until her back pressed against it. He then lifted her up and pinned her there, allowing her a totally new angle to kiss him with. His mind was yelling in protest, screaming about how inappropriate this was, but when her mouth opened to his and her warm tongue pressed against his, every thought he had was silenced.

After a few minutes, he gently helped her regain her footing on the ground and gentled the kiss. When he opened his eyes to find her brown ones staring up at him, something very small and fragile within his heart snapped. Against all better judgment, this young woman really, truly wanted him. And he wanted her as well.

"What is this?" Hermione whispered, her voice shaking.

Severus drew her into his arms, reveling in the feeling of her head against his chest.

"I'm not sure." He whispered.

As Hermione nuzzled closer to him, the thoughts of doubt that had been previously silenced crept back into his brain. He looked at the dead Death Eater on the floor in front of them and was filled with questions.

First thing's first, I'll mangle the body and send it back to the mountains. I'll make it look like an accident with the giants. Then, I'll send a patronus to Albus. Something is seriously, seriously wrong.