Hermione left before he awoke, unable to face Severus's weakened form in the harsh daylight of the morning. She spent the day in Muggle London, wandering aimlessly between stores and Tube stations, distracted, exhausted, and uneasy. Would he remember to ask her to create the journal? What would he think once he read her note? Should she even have left it?

And should she go back to the infirmary and confront what awaited her?

As twilight settled on the city, Hermione realized it would be nearly impossible for her to stay away from Severus for the next seven weeks. She was used to spending most of her day with him, after all. What if I go back to see him tonight? She tried to remember if he had said anything odd to her on her second visit. He hadn't, right? But then again, he was the commensurate actor, wasn't he?

It was past midnight when Hermione finally convinced herself to Apparate back to the Hogwarts front gate. Time to face the music, Gryffindor. Hermione tiptoed through the infirmary and slowly pushed his door open. Eyes, dark as the night outside, greeted her.

"Hello." The velvet voice she knew so well sounded cold…distant. It ripped at her heart.

She swallowed hard. "Hello." Then, nothing. Her chest tightened: she never considered he might reject her. Here. Now.

"The note you left…" His hands were holding on to the torn page as if her note were inked in poison. She glanced at it. Why was he holding it? Had he expected her to return?

"You read it?"

"Obviously."

Silence as thick as the night filled the space between them.

Hermione sat down on her chair, wringing her hands. "I didn't think I'd come back tonight," she said softly. "I had planned on staying at my parents' house for a while, but I…I couldn't." She looked down and forced her hands still. "I'm not sure where else to go. I wandered around all day. I…I just want to be here…with you. That's all." She looked at him expectantly. Nothing. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue. "I only planned on visiting you once. I came last night because I needed to see you. I needed to be sure."

"Needed to be sure of what?"

"That I was making the right choice."

"The right choice?" Severus echoed.

"Yes."

"Miss Granger, you used a Time Turner to make sure—" he said, sounding irritated.

She found she didn't care. "—that I had fallen in love with you. That I am in love with you. And I have—I am. And I left the note to ask that if you ever felt the same about me in the future, that you would tell me."

There was a long pause. A very long pause. It gave her enough time to wonder if he would ever speak to her again. "You needed a Time Turner for that?" he finally said, a bit snidely.

"I'm sorry." She swallowed. "I don't want to change anything. I can't. We can't. I just…needed to be sure." A sigh escaped her. "I realize now how selfish it was. But now that I have the journal you asked me to create, I'll never run into my past self, and I'll never interact with anyone but you because I'll know exactly when my past self comes to visit you. You see," she added, "it had already happened. I already came back. The book—"

"Miss Granger—"

"Hermione, if you please," she said, interrupting him.

He paused, as if he was fighting the urge to reprimand her. "Hermione, then. You can imagine this is quite unexpected."

"Yes, I can imagine it would be."

The silence that blanketed the room threatened to suffocate her.

"You did ask me to create the journal, today, didn't you?" she asked.

"You still have it in your possession, do you not?"

Hermione let his question hang in the air, unanswered. After a moment, she whispered, "Do you believe me?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. I can find no reason not to," he said without emotion.

"Can you use Legilimency without viewing specific memories? To see that I am telling the truth?"

He looked at her shrewdly. "Since you are not trained in Occlumency, I cannot. But I don't need Legilimency to know." She took the lack of a specific answer to mean that he did, indeed, believe her.

Minutes ticked by.

"You came from how far in the future…?"

"Seven weeks, five days, three hours, and 17 minutes. Approximately."

"Approximately," he repeated. She saw his lips twinge in a potential smile.

"So I will fully recover?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes, you will, Sever—yes, you will." She paused. "Look, I should leave for now. I never wanted to embarrass you, and now I've done the very thing I intended not to." She stood. "I've made a mess. A bloody mess."

"Miss Granger. Hermione. There is no bloody mess, as you so eloquently put it," he remarked. "You must give me time to get used to the idea, that is all."

"Of course." Hermione sat back down in her chair, and stared into the semi-darkness. Had he fallen asleep? After several minutes ticked by, he cleared his throat. "Can I get you something? A tea, maybe?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, that would be appreciated. Earl—"

"Earl Grey decaf with two sugars and no milk. Yes, I know."

Hermione heard a slight harrumph before leaving to summon a kitchen elf. A sleepy Winky presented her with a full service, including biscuits and scones, and a tea for herself. She returned to find Severus sitting up in bed. He had lit a small sconce.

He frowned. "Merlin, do I smell jasmine tea? Really, Miss Gr—Hermione, jasmine is—."

A small laugh escaped her. "Let me guess, 'is not proper tea at all."

"Are you going to interrupt me constantly to anticipate everything I am about to say, Miss Time Turner? Your brazen disregard for common curtsey coupled with your unwarranted intellectual arrogance may drive me mad," he said with a scowl.

"My apologies," she said, trying to keep a straight face.

They took their tea in silence.

"Is this the same Time Turner you used your third year? Why do you still have it?" he asked softly.

"Technically, it is still on loan from the Ministry. Minerva and Professor Dumbledore arranged for me to keep it under the condition that I use it for advanced study seventh year. I suppose with the war and all the changes at the Ministry, everyone forgot that I had it."

"All the ones stored at the Ministry were destroyed, if you remember."

"Yes. I was there," she said simply.

"Perhaps the records stating you had one in your possession were destroyed as well."

"Perhaps." She shifted in her chair. Merlin, as comforting as it was to see him, this was exhausting. "Would you be comfortable if I slept here tonight?" Hermione saw Severus raise an imperious eyebrow, so she thought she might risk her favorite tease. "I can watch over you…you know, to keep Poppy from doing anything untoward." She saw him scowl momentarily at her use of Madam Pomfrey's first name, but she also saw the beginning of the smirk-smile that she knew so well.

There was a brief moment of silence. Severus picked up the book she had left him the night before. "Perhaps we can watch over each other," he answered seriously, turning the volume over in his hand.

At that, Hermione aimed her wand at her chair, transfiguring it into a small cot. Then she conjured a pillow. As she tried to arrange herself comfortably, she felt a whisper of magic cover her, forming a soft blanket. She glanced over at him. "Thank you, Severus."

He said nothing, and they both fell asleep in the moonlight streaming through the window.

And so Hermione's life continued in much the same way for the next several weeks: arriving every evening to sit in the company of Her Potions Master until he closed his eyes for the remainder of the night. When she was certain he was sleeping soundly, she would curl up on the cot that her magic had fashioned from a wooden chair. Then, and only then, would she rest until she forced herself to leave in the morning.

Tonight, however, much to Hermione's dismay, she wasn't asleep yet. They'd been playing chess.

"I concede," Hermione yawned, tipping her king.

"That is the most intelligent move you've made tonight."

"Yes, well. I can't even think I'm so tired."

"Indeed. Did you do anything special today?"

"No. As usual, I Apparated to my bedroom at Grimmauld when I knew I would be here visiting you. When my past self would be visiting you, that is. Thank Merlin my room is messy enough to disguise anything I might move by accident."

"The journal has proved helpful."

"Yes. I got a few hours sleep, which is nice, since you never let me sleep when I'm here," Hermione said around another yawn as she snuggled down on her cot. "Although I did spend a few lovely hours between Foyles and the London Library today as well."

"Only you would describe that as lovely."

"Or perhaps you."

He huffed a laugh. "Perhaps. Goodnight, Hermione," he said as she closed her eyes.

It seemed only moments later when Hermione was awakened by the sound of the room's door lightly scraping across the floor. She opened her eyes to a ribbon of bright light spilling onto the tile and Poppy poking her head in the doorway. Hermione feigned sleep. She heard a faint tsk, and measured footsteps approaching her. Poppy pulled Hermione's blanket—the one Severus conjured for her each night—up to her shoulders. Hermione barely suppressed a giggle. I think Poppy just tucked me in. Then the footfalls receded and the door shut behind Poppy with a soft click, and Hermione fell sleep once more.

One Week Later

Hermione awoke with a start, startled by a strange, unidentifiable sound in the darkness. I must have imagined it. She closed her eyes to try to fall back asleep but a moment later, she heard it again. And now, it was obvious that it was coming from the man sleeping an arm's length from her.

Hermione glanced over at him in the semi-darkness. Severus was groaning and twitching, his face contorted in grimace. Poppy must no longer be dousing him with Dreamless Sleep. "Please…I beg you…kill me…" he rasped pathetically, his voice cracking with strain. Hermione shivered. How desperate was he that he would beg for death lest he suffer living anymore? Who had done this to him? And when would he be free of these dreams?

As quietly as she could, Hermione dragged her cot towards Severus so that it was up against his bed. She gently reached out to shelter his hands in between both of hers. He didn't wake, but seemed to find comfort in her touch: his face relaxed. Satisfied that she had calmed him a little, she laid back down and closed her eyes, keeping her hands around his. The next night, Hermione pretended to sleep until she could hear him breathing soundly, then she reached for his hands and held them until her own dreams took her.

Three days later, she awoke just before daybreak to find Severus's dark eyes on her, watching her expectantly. Her hands were holding his. "Hermione…thank you," he said softly.

"Of course," she replied just as softly, and then reluctantly let them go.

The nights were pleasant in the infirmary and Hermione grew to enjoy the evenings with Severus as much as she had enjoyed the afternoons with him. He had warmed to her over these last few weeks, becoming less disdainful and more teasing, less aloof and more relaxed. Scowls and smirks had gradually become coloured with the beginnings of smiles. And since Hermione began taking his hands in hers each night, Severus's nightmares had subsided. How she managed to keep hold of them all night while they both slept remained a mystery. But here, in Grimmauld Place, she had no hand to hold as she slept. No hand in hers when she woke.

Hermione yawned and stretched. Even without Severus's hand to hold, her bed in her room at Grimmauld was far too comfortable to leave just yet. Besides, she had just enough time to read today's journal entry before her past self would be making her way back from the infirmary. Leaning over the side of the bed, she opened her bag to fish around for the notebook. While she conceded it was a bit odd to be reading about something that was happening at the same instant miles away, she found comfort recalling their afternoons together. She never allowed herself to look ahead in her journal, however. And, to her great relief, except for his single question about whether or not he would fully recover, Severus never asked about the future.

Warding the door just to be safe, she opened her journal to view the entry for the day.

Friday, July 17

2:37 p.m.

I arrived at the Hogwarts Infirmary to find Madam Pomfrey changing Professor Snape's neck bandage. (Madam Pomfrey was assisted by an associate healer.) As described earlier, Professor Snape had received skin lacerations from Nagini's bite (see entry dated July 2) on the left side of his neck, presumably in his carotid artery or jugular vein (or both). These wounds from Nagini's fangs exist in addition to the damage caused by the snake's venom. The bandage change was done at the sight of this particular injury.

During the bandage change, an assistant healer was required to hold him in sitting position as the Professor Snape was not strong enough to sit up by himself. Although the patient has seemed particularly tired lately—too the point of exhaustion on some days—I do not believe that his inability to sit upright unassisted was caused by simple lack of rest, and was instead primarily due to the injuries recently sustained by the snake bite. It is highly likely that the lacerations on his neck resulted in extreme blood loss.

I observed a very large amount of scars on Professor Snape's back. The scar tissue is raised and somewhat lighter in colour than the other skin on his back. The scars cover most of the skin from the shoulders down. These injuries are completely healed at this time. One can only assume that Professor Snape has suffered at least one whipping of some sort, likely during his time as double agent during the recent war.

Question: Was there any permanent damage from (assumed) whipping that could affect the degree he will be able to heal from the current injury (Nagini's bite)? (unknown at this time)

Professor Snape seemed unfazed by the degree of scarring insomuch as to be indifferent to this past injury when brought up in conversation. This is indicative of his resilience in the face of grievous injury. Undoubtedly, this resilience will assist the subject during the healing of the current injury (both lacerations and venom).

Although he is relatively weak (too weak to sit up on his own, for example) Professor Snape continues to be more energetic with each passing day.

Time left infirmary: 5:06 p.m.

She laid the journal down and began to weep.

That Evening

"Hello, Severus," she said, knocking and pushing open the door.

"Hermione." He looked at her and frowned. "Is something troubling you?"

"No," she lied.

He paused, openly appraising her. "You read your journal entry describing the scars on my back. You saw them earlier today during my bandage change."

"Yes. But I didn't need to read it to remember." She folded herself into her wooden chair and looked down at the tile floor.

"I asked you not to think on it, if you recall."

"I remember you telling me not to. It's just…" A tear escaped her eye and traveled down her cheek. "I can't stand the idea of you being in a situation where you were forced to endure something like that."

"It was my choice, Hermione. And it doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters to me." She forced herself to look in his dark eyes. "What you had to suffer..." She swallowed. Her belly was a jumble of emotions: sorrow, empathy, anger, and…did she detect…jealousy? Could she be any more selfish? But what if he never loves me that much? What if he never wants me at all? "You must have loved her very much to have done that even after she was gone," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Severus just stared back at her for a moment, saying nothing. Then: "I did love her, Hermione," he said gently, "but that was a very long time ago." He paused and looked away. Merlin, what made me bring up Lily Potter? Am I completely mental? Do I enjoy hurting myself and tormenting Severus? He turned back to her from gazing out the window into the night. "I protected Potter because it was the right thing to do. I protected her son because, no matter what I did, I couldn't protect her."

Hermione just stared at him and said nothing. More tears followed the first.

"She never loved me, Hermione. Not in that way. We were friends. It would have never worked between us. She desired…other things. Things I never did, things that were not important to me. She wanted to be popular. She wanted someone who was popular and handsome and athletic. She wanted wealth, privilege and status in the wizarding world. I couldn't be any of those things, and I couldn't give her any of those things, so, in the end, I became…unimportant. Useless to her." He paused. "I was a fool. But I was all she had. Until she found James Potter, that is."

"I'm sorry."

"Please don't be. As I said, I was a fool."

"I can't imagine anyone thinking you a fool," Hermione said evenly.

"Then you don't have a very vivid imagination," he quipped, apparently trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, trust me, Severus, I have a very vivid imagination," she responded, following his lead.

"We'll have to explore that sometime," he said wickedly. Then, for the first time, he reached for her hand. She felt herself flush. "But just because I loved her doesn't mean I can't ever love someone else. I will…choose more carefully next time. And I am…hoping that next time, my feelings will be returned," he said seriously, locking his infinitely darks eyes on hers.

"All of those who dare to fall in love hope that very thing, Severus."

"Indeed."

They stayed holding hands for a moment until they both let go. "Does it hurt? Your back, I mean?" she asked levelly as she wiped the remains of the tears from her face.

"Not usually. Being in bed for so long has caused me some pain. The aftereffects of the Cruciatus are decidedly worse."

"The aftereffects of the Cruciatus?" she echoed blankly.

"Apparently the curse induces…lingering effects should one endure it as often as I have."

His dreams… "I'm sorry."

"Again, don't be."

"If I can help…"

"You already have," he said and reached to turn on the wireless so that Beethoven's Erioca danced in the air between them.

Several Nights Later

Hermione looked up as Severus tried to stifle a yawn. "Tired?" she asked.

"No. Tired of you asking me if I'm tired."

"Then you're up for a game of Muggle checkers?" she asked lightly.

"Must I suffer your deplorable checker skills both night and day? Perhaps I will agree to play with you if you assure me you will not wail and gnash your teeth when I obliterate you. I find it…tiresome," he drawled.

"Ah. So my constant wailing is apparently the real reason you seem tired. I knew somehow you'd make it my fault."

"If you were better at checkers, you wouldn't feel the need to wail so much."

"Since my skills are unlikely to improve within the next few minutes, perhaps you have another suggestion for how we can spend the evening…? Something more…stimulating?" she asked, cocking her own eyebrow in a mimic of his. Once she realized what she had said, she blushed at that in spite of herself.

He chuckled at her discomfort. "I see a concrete suggestion is in order," he said, pausing for effect, "and one that Poppy would approve of should she walk in on us," he added wickedly.

"Nonsense. I'm quite good at the Colloportus spell, as you know. We wouldn't have to worry about her walking in should you want to do something…more dangerous."

"Tempting. Do you have a suggestion then?" he said, leaning towards her.

"Hmmm. Well, it just so happens that brought you something, Severus. You may consider it…intoxicating."

"It's your rapier wit, no doubt," he said deadpan.

"That is yours to enjoy nightly, free of charge. This is even more special."

"I can hardly imagine anything more special than that."

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed, then pulled a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses out of her bag. "I thought you might like a drink."

He smiled approvingly. "Appallingly good taste for one barely old enough to purchase such things."

"Would you like some?"

"Indeed."

Hermione closed and locked the door. "Just in case…" Severus cocked an eyebrow. "You know, to dissuade Poppy if she wants us to share." She poured two glasses and handed one to him. Leaning forward she whispered, "I don't think there'll be enough."

"I can see why you might think that," he said as he eyed the full glass she handed him. "Miss Granger, are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Obviously," she quipped. "To your health, Severus," she said, throwing her head back and downing her entire glass.

He raised his glass to her. "To your hidden talent," he responded, raising his glass then taking a drink of his own. "You are full of surprises, Gryffindor."

"Yes, well. Perhaps if you got to know me better, you wouldn't be surprised," she said, pouring herself another.

"Sounds like a challenge."

"Only if you're up for such things." She glanced at him. "What do you say we take turns? Ask each other questions as we enjoy our Firewhisky? To…get to know each other better."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You are a wicked little one, aren't you? All right, I'm game."

"I'm first then," she said. "Let's start with something simple. What is your favourite food?"

"Who gives a bloody fuck what my favourite food is?" he growled around a swallow of liquor.

"Me, obviously, Mr. Grouchy. We're supposed to be finding out more about each other, Severus. Or don't you remember?"

"Why don't you ask me something interesting then?"

"Fine. Let me think." She took a drink herself. "Did you always want to study potions?"

"Again, I thought you were going to ask me something interesting."

"Well, why don't you start then, since apparently I don't understand what the word 'interesting' means," she said sarcastically.

"Fine. My favourite food is curry. By my own hand."

"What is your favourite way to eat your favourite food?"

"With a side of Firewhisky," he said, lifting his glass to her for a refill.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Actually, I'm not certain what you meant," he said evenly.

"I don't think this is going to work," she sighed.

He snorted. "My point exactly."

Hermione ignored him. "What's your favourite thing to do? And you can't say 'read'."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not interesting," she responded snidely.

"Fine. Having you read to me."

"Seriously, Severus. You are just trying to be difficult," she said, exasperated.

He smirk-smiled at her. "See, now you know me better." He paused for a moment. "Ask me one more question."

Hermione gifted him a warning look. "OK, what's your favourite time of day?"

"Whenever you're here," he said softly, looking her in the eye.

Her heart leapt. "Mine, too."