Hermione was lying on top of her bed at Grimmauld Place, a towel tucked around her from her shower. It had been another gruelling day of renovations and taken her the best part of an hour to get all the dust out of her hair. It was only three weeks into the summer and they had already disposed of most of the furniture (though the finer items had been kept and put to one side), stripped and repainted all the walls and sanded and varnished most of the floors. The kitchen was almost unrecognisable now they had finished retiling and fitting it with new cabinets and appliances. Even the gungy old table that had been the centre of many Order meetings looked different once it had been sanded down and painted white. Seeing as the house was still unplottable and secret kept, they had done the majority of the work themselves, with Harry and Hermione falling back on the internet to help them and Ginny falling back on Mr and Mrs Weasley and their magical DIY books. There had been a few times she'd watched the faces of muggles twist with confusion as three teenagers carrying various items of furniture had suddenly vanished, but it couldn't be helped. They seemed to be going with a light country-house chic style, which was a little odd in central London and such a departure from the dark, gothic style it had sported before she sometimes got whiplash when she walked into a room. In another week or so most of the hard labour would be done, and they could start decorating in earnest. That was what Hermione was most excited for. They had decided to make their bedrooms liveable before they'd started on the rest of the house, and she had so far gone with three sage green walls and one dark green, where her bed was. The wood floors had been varnished in a light wash to brighten the place up and she had found a gorgeous cream and brown rug to go under her wrought iron bed frame in a local charity shop. Ginny had been so delighted when she and Harry had taken her to one, Hermione had made a mental note to add this to the Muggle Studies syllabus, as there apparently wasn't a Wizard equivalent beyond second-hand book stores and families giving out hand-me-downs. They'd had to drag Ginny out of the second-hand furniture store they'd been to and remind her in no uncertain terms that there was no point buying anything other than the absolute essentials until they had finished renovating. Hermione smiled slightly to herself, still sprawled out on the bed. They were creating a lovely home, and she was honoured to be a part of it.

Results had come mid way through July and the memory made her smile even wider. Ginny had outdone herself and got 4 Es and an O in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. She'd been absolutely thrilled and the three of them had flooed over the Weasley household where Mr and Mrs Weasley had shrieked and cried and thrown an impromptu party. Luna, Lavender and Hannah had all done well too, with Lavender and Hannah's grades easily good enough to get them into their training programmes, and Luna's Os in Charms, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures opening doors to all sorts of future careers. Draco had got Os in 5 of the 6 subjects he had taken, and an E in Defence. And Hermione ... Hermione had achieved a straight set of 7 Os. Only Voldemort and Dumbledore before him had managed this in the history of Hogwarts. Hermione's eyes stung as she thought of it. She had hoped, of course she had hoped, but she had never quite believed.

"Just make sure you don't end up like Voldemort." Harry had said teasingly.

"Yeah," Ron had agreed. "It would suck to have to defeat you."

"Maybe try not to end up like Dumbledore either." Harry had said, looking momentarily troubled. "I'm not sure I can cope with another one. And you wouldn't suit a beard."

"Just stay our Hermione." Ron had smiled. "Bossy, scary, brilliant, swot extraordinaire."

Both boys had only laughed and pulled her into a hug as she'd burst into tears.

She'd written to her parents a few days later, trying to explain the magnitude of what she had achieved without sounding arrogant, and informed them she would be contactable at Hogwarts come September, should they want to write to her. There was so much she wanted to say to them, so much she wanted to explain and discuss. But they weren't ready to hear it all again. She'd tried so hard to explain, to apologise, to present both the logical argument for what she'd done, and the emotional one. But she didn't think they would ever understand her decision. They couldn't wrap their heads around their teenage daughter being so important to the Wizarding War. They couldn't understand that if she had taken any other choice, there was every chance the war would have been lost. That didn't make it right, of course it didn't. But was the autonomy of her parents really more important than the fate of the Wizarding world? Of all the people who would have suffered and died under Voldemort's regime if it had taken even a month longer to defeat him? How was she supposed to begin to examine any of it? She couldn't ... she just couldn't go there.

She'd been back to Hogwarts once so far to oversee the generator being installed. It had ended up being a real ordeal, between convincing the engineer that they did, definitely want to install a generator next to a derelict castle, and yes they were allowed and no it wasn't a joke. Minerva had had to do most of the talking so she could focus on protecting the equipment, and it was clear the muggle thought they both had a screw loose. They'd had to mildly Confund him by the end of it which had made Hermione feel awful. But now, happily, the generator was in, protected and functional. She and Minerva had a shopping trip planned for next week to source the equipment that would be needed. She had a feeling the older witch was really enjoying engaging in the muggle world once again. It was sweet how encouraging and enthusiastic she was.

Hermione glanced at the clock, she still had an hour until dinner. It was Harry's turn to cook tonight, the three of them each cooked twice a week and argued about a takeaway with Ron on a Friday. She had time. Hermione bit her lip and shuffled into a slightly more comfortable position. It was time to think about Severus Snape. She had carefully avoided doing so since she had left Hogwarts. After she had recovered from the initial shock of the daffodils, she had boxed and shrunk the bouquet, then made her way out to the boats with Ginny. Snape had been down the far end with his Slytherins and Hermione had been unable to stop herself looking over at him. Draco, getting into a boat with Luna, had waved, which had drawn Snape's gaze their way. Their eyes had locked, and she had felt the slow, warm smile lift her face, as gratitude ran through her bloodstream. Snape had looked back at her, then his face had softened, just slightly, just for her. Ginny had pulled her into a boat and they'd sailed back across the lake, holding each other tightly as Hogwarts faded from sight behind them. The daffodils had been such a ... such a ... thoughtful gesture, she could still barely process it even now. They seemed to have been magically preserved in some way as well, and were still standing proud and beautiful on her dresser. And so, it was time to think through their interactions objectively, not inflating or minimising any of it. It would be difficult, but she was ready.

Hermione thought of how empty, angry and distant he had been when she'd first returned, flying into a fury when she had asked him how he was. She thought of the first few weeks out at the grave when he had barely been able to meet her eyes or accept her tea. She thought of him quietly telling her to persist and be patient if she truly wanted to help a Slytherin and how much it had affected her. She thought of him sitting out in the freezing winter night, waiting for her so long his hands turned blue and his body trembled. That had been the first time she had really talked to him, like she would anyone else. And it had seemed to be that which had helped him back. He had lashed out at her so violently the week after. Could that have been because he was ... pleased to see her? Because he couldn't handle that at all? She thought of his quiet, sincere apology a few weeks later. Had he apologised because he missed her? Because he had been scared of her hospitalisation? Or had her gentle reassurances convinced him she wasn't the same as those who had come before? She thought of the dislike Snape's colleagues faced him with, only slightly more unpleasant than the over-enthusiastic respect and deference the rest of the staff showed him, which so obviously set his teeth on edge. She thought of his shock when she had given him her wand, and how he hadn't been able to look at her as he had returned the gesture. She thought of the desolation that lay just under the surface, never far away from consuming him. She thought of her own, disproportionate reaction when he was suffering, how it devastated her so. She thought of how he had been so angry, then so understanding when she'd sought him out after a nightmare, and how badly his kindness meant, coming from someone so reserved. She thought of their quiet conversations, of how at peace she felt in his company, of how much his words and opinions meant to her.

She thought of how out of her mind with worry she had been when he hadn't appeared at the grave, and the fear that had pounded through her when she'd gone to his rooms. Not because he had made her feel afraid for her safety, but because she had been so scared for him, so desperate to make him feel better. The way he had reacted to her care and instructions made something ache in her chest. He needed kindness and guidance so badly. The hatred that had flickered across his face as he had thought she was scared of him had been awful to witness. From the little she knew of his childhood, it seemed likely his Father had been abusive, and when he had thrown the lamp and she had flinched, he'd looked so consumed with self-loathing it had caused her almost physical pain. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, she only wished he knew of her faith in him. She had been stunned when he'd told her he didn't require a wand oath from her, it had been another striking display of trust, that even now, she couldn't fully understand. She thought of his anger and humiliation when he had learned that she could see the glamour he wore to hide his scar, and how he had bared it to her, and shown her his Dark Mark, expecting to send her running. He had inadvertently shown some of the depths of his damage that day, being so clearly unable to accept her compassion. And he had treated her with such hesitancy and respect after she had challenged him. He seemed to respond well when she simply told him what to do. That was worth remembering. It was the first time he had really smiled at her, and even small and shy as it had been, it had opened his face and transformed him into something warm and beautiful and devastating. She thought of how desperate she had been to get to him after the Ball, when the memories and flashbacks had been too much to stand, and how his eyes had raked over her, he had let her in, given her his robes and then told her she must never return. Yet he had been kind, and concerned, and relaxed in her company. The image of him, languid, throat exposed and hair pillowing the sofa back had stayed with her vividly since that night. She thought of him allowing her to accompany him into the forest, of how disagreeable he had been, all because he had been upset at the thought of her leaving. That still felt like too much to comprehend. Finally, she thought of the daffodils. The incomprehensible, impossible, bewildering daffodils.

Hermione turned on her side and faced them, deciding to begin with his feelings. It still felt arrogant to assume he felt anything much for her at all. He was alone, except for her, part of her mind still screamed that that was all it was. All it could ever be. Only ... only he had shown her he trusted her, he cared about her, he would miss her, if she was gone. And he had given her flowers. Perhaps he had only allowed her presence because he needed someone, and she was all that he found tolerable, but over time, he had obviously come to think more of her than that. She didn't agree with Ginny that the daffodils showed any sort of romantic interest - who could ever compete with a beautiful, perfect dead woman who he had carried with him for most of his life? But she did think they were ... a token of appreciation perhaps, as well as an acknowledgement of her graduation. There was something there.

Hermione turned her thoughts to her own tangled feelings about Snape. She needed to try and be honest with herself here. She knew she cared about him very deeply. She knew she felt protectiveness and affection for him. She knew seeing beneath the projection he showed the world made her feel special, and seeing him vulnerable in any way gave her a strange mix of thrill and pain. She wanted to talk to him, to get to know him, even just be near him. And so far she had missed him terribly. Did that ... did that mean? Hermione scrubbed her hands across her face. She couldn't imagine kissing him. But ... she could imagine being close enough to. She could imagine that being that close to him would feel good. She thought of the soft lines around his mouth, the tiny scar just beneath his left eyebrow, the way his lips shifted when a smirk moved closer to a smile. She thought of running her hands through his hair, of touching his pale skin, of leaning close and inhaling his herbal, earthy scent. Hermione groaned. She really, really didn't need this. Neither did Snape.


It was the first monthly meeting of the strays. Harry had been temporarily relocated to the Burrow, and Luna would be missing, as she was currently in Thailand hunting for some creature Hermione had never heard of and thought likely had never existed. Decorating Grimmauld Place had begun in earnest, and the old house was starting to feel really homey.

"So this was Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix." Said Hannah interestedly.

Hermione had met them all on the street outside and brought them inside the Fidelius Charm's protection.

"It didn't used to look like this." Ginny smiled. "It was awful."

"It was abandoned for years when Sirius was in Azkaban." Hermione supplied. "Looked and smelt pretty derelict even after the Order moved in."

"We've basically gutted the place." Ginny added. "Although we still can't work out a way to get down that painting of old Walburga Black. Permanent Sticking Charm."

"She's a bit more bearable now we've put a Permanent Silencing Charm on her though." Hermione said.

"But she still makes her displeasure known." Ginny indicated to the portrait who was gesticulating rudely at them all.

"Nothing a Sleeping Spell can't fix." Said Hermione, grinning at Ginny as she flicked her wand at the painting. Poor Walburga hadn't been awake for more than an hour or two since they'd moved in.

"You could ask Luna to take a look." Draco supplied, as they headed into the Drawing Room where a drinks tray was already laid out. "She's so good with charms."

"Or Seamus." Neville suggested. "He could just blow the whole thing up."

"I'm sort of attached to her now." Ginny shrugged. "It's nice knowing she's so unhappy, bigoted, mean shit that she was. Her misery brings me joy."

"You're so twisted, Ginny." Lavender smiled appreciatively. "I'm into it."

"Thanks." Ginny smiled widely. "How's the Department of Mysteries treating you? Are you allowed to tell us anything about it?"

"No." Lavender smiled. "Not a thing, actually. But it's SO interesting. I never thought I'd enjoy research, but the things we're researching are crazy. And in a year I'll be able to start transitioning to practical work. I'm so excited."

"You'll be careful though, won't you Lavender?" Hermione asked. "Some of the things in that Department are terrifying."

"I'll be careful." Lavender reassured. "Everyone is really sensible and there's all sort of procedures in place now. Partly because of you lot breaking in actually."

"Really?!" Hermione, Ginny and Neville all exclaimed.

"Really." Lavender grinned. "It's infamous in the office. The famous Harry Potter and his crazy followers running around in the Department unsupervised."

"Crazy?!"

"Followers?!"

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"You must be popular then." Said Hannah. "You're friends with his crazy followers. And in the same year and House."

"Yes, I did have to answer an awful lot of questions at first." Lavender looked down and smiled slightly sadly. "It was nice though. I thought everyone was so interested in me because of my scars, but it was absolutely nothing to do with that. No one even really seems to notice them. It's a very non-judgemental department."

"That's fantastic, Lavender." Hermione squeezed her hand.

"What about you, Hannah?" Lavender asked, still smiling. "How's Healer training? Is it as hard and gross and sad as I've heard?"

"Yes!" Hannah laughed. "Whatever you've heard, it's worse! And it's also, absolutely amazing."


Hermione and Minerva were sitting at student desks in the Muggle Studies building eating shepherds pie and watching The Truman Show on video. Hermione did want to get an aerial installed for terrestrial telly, but she was having a really hard time getting anyone to come out to do it, and wasn't sure what the signal would be like anyway. The shopping trip last week had been a huge success, and Minerva had surprised her today by having already sorted the electrical outlets by reaching out to a former half-blood student whose Father was an electrician. They hadn't wanted to risk Apparating with the equipment, so they had paid for it to be delivered to the nearest village and then brought it up using one of the thestral drawn carriages but borrowing a horse to pull it. It had, again, been a bit of a logistical nightmare, the muggle who had delivered the electrical supplies had looked at them like they were slightly mad as they had signed for the items to be delivered on the road and then loaded them into a carriage. But eventually they had made it to Hogwarts and safely moved the items to the classroom and got everything set up. This cosy little evening was their reward. It had been a gruelling day.

"Muggles are so creative, aren't they." Minerva whispered, as Truman looked at his wife with distrust. "So clever."

"Yes." Hermione smiled.

This was exactly the reaction she was hoping for. They'd decided to begin the year's classes with a movie, a different one for each year group. Nothing was going to grab their attention and impress them like a good movie. They were also going to organise a day out into the Muggle world for the older years. Hermione was thinking charity shops, a fairground and the cinema. There was a good chance this was really going to open some minds.

They had chosen a muggleborn Hufflepuff witch to take on the role next year. She had graduated Hogwarts the year before Hermione had started, and worked in the Ministry doing administrative work since. Her grades were solid though, and she was obviously just as excited and passionate about advocating for Muggles as Hermione. She would be coming in to look around the new classroom with Minerva next week and go through the syllabus. Hermione had decided she was going to take a bit of step back while the new teacher found her feet, then meet up with her at the end of August. It felt difficult and almost emotional to loosen the reins, but she knew it was the right thing to do, and the person they'd chosen to take it on was a real asset. Her next focus was on the Wizarding Studies curriculum and getting to grips with her own syllabus and workload for next year.


"You miss him, don't you?"

Hermione and Ginny were repotting houseplants in the overgrown garden at Grimmauld Place. It was on the list to get it under control, but it wasn't really a priority.

"Who?" Hermione asked, pulling a Calla Lily out of the plastic pot it had come in.

"Don't play dumb." Ginny gave Hermione a sharp look.

"Okay." Hermione sighed. "Yes, I miss him. Very much."

"Are you going to admit-"

"What does it matter?" Hermione cut across her friend, not really in the mood for this. "It'll pass. He needs some company, consistency and stability in his life, I can provide that."

"That's going to hurt, Mione." Ginny said softly. "Just meeting his needs and ignoring your own. And what makes you so sure he doesn't feel the same? Or couldn't do, some day?"

"I thought you were disgusted by the idea?"

"Not disgusted," said Ginny sheepishly. "Not truly. Just really, really shocked. I can kind of see it, it kind of makes sense."

Hermione sighed and patted the compost more firmly around the plant's base.

"He's been in love with Harry's mum since he was like, what? 10? He's hardly going to forget that and look at me, is he? It's not worth dwelling on. It'll pass, Gin."

"I'm not sure it's as simple as that. He obviously thinks a lot of you, he got you flowers. Your favourite flowers."

"Yes." Hermione answered tiredly. "The flowers were very sweet, but I really don't think they were meant as anything other than a token of thanks and an acknowledgement of achievement. Like a congratulations card or something. They don't mean anything more. And anyway, you're the one who said he was broken and desperate and a bastard. Why would you want me to pursue something like that?"

"Good point." Ginny said finally. "I just think it's worth considering. All of it. I know how miserable it is loving someone who doesn't love you back. You don't get to choose who you fall for. And I think you're dismissing the idea that Snape might or could one day return your feelings too easily."

"Let's... let's not say love stuff, Ginny. I ... I don't think it's anything like that."

"Yet." Ginny challenged. "You've been obsessing about him for the better part of a year and for Snape, who has walls that can be seen from space, you've gotten really close to him, which has only made you like him more."

"Walls that can be seen from space?" Hermione smiled, unwilling to think about Ginny had said. "Are you comparing Professor Snape to the Great Wall of China?"

"Maybe." Ginny smiled back. "That's a myth though, come on Hermione, keep up."


She only had a week now until she went back to Hogwarts. Staff went back in the last week of August to get everything ready for 1st September, and Hermione was so full of excitement and nerves and longing she felt like she was going slightly mad. The summer had absolutely flown by. The house was nearly done, there were a few vacant rooms upstairs left to furnish and a few finishing touches needed, but it was warm and inviting and completely transformed. Ginny was off training with her Quidditch team most of this week, so Hermione had decided she would tackle the garden, as a nice surprise and thank you for her two best friends who had opened their home to her so willingly.

Only August had brought with it a heatwave so intense she felt like she was going to melt, despite the cooling charms she had surrounded herself with. Still, it couldn't be helped. Shrugging internally, she stripped down to her underwear. The garden was completely sheltered and protected by the Fidelius, and Harry and Ginny wouldn't be back until this evening. She might as well get a bit of a tan. So far this morning she had blasted and vanished most of the brambles, leaving brown grass and moss, neglected flower beds full off dead plants and some very grotty patio. She was going to have to go to the garden centre again. Sighing, Hermione began on the flower beds, using a thumping charm to loosen the soil and then a large garden fork. Some of the plants might actually be salvageable with a a good haircut and a lot of water.

It ended up being a long and exhausting day, and she got slightly burnt despite the sun cream she had applied. She'd made good progress though, and Harry and Ginny had been thrilled, she couldn't wait to see the result at the end of the week. She had one more flowerbed to do, a load of new shrubs to plant, a lot of watering to do and she planned to hire a power washer for the patio, and treat her friends to some nice garden furniture. Nothing too heavy though, seeing as she'd have to carry it in herself.


Hermione was sitting crossed legged on the floor in her new rooms at Hogwarts. She'd been in Snape's rooms, so this shouldn't be such a shock. Only she hadn't exactly been paying much attention to the surroundings at the time. She basically had an apartment. Her rooms were on a lower floor and more centrally located than the room she'd had last year. She could access them through the Transfiguration Office, or through a door on the next corridor over. There was a good sized lounge with a small kitchenette on the back wall, a door that led to what was clearly intended to be made into a library, another to a large bedroom with a huge arched window showing the grounds with a nook for a small sofa, and a separate bathroom with a large sunken bath that felt almost indecent. Crookshanks walked over to her, purring his approval.

"Pretty nice, right?" She stroked his head. "We're a long way away from the dormitories."

A wave of nostalgia rushed over her and made her eyes sting.

Minerva had met her at the school gates, sent her bags and cat to the rooms with an elf and then given her a tour of the school's secret passageways, explaining the various enchantments and protections. There was so much more to the ancient building than she had known, even with her study of Hogwarts: A History. The Marauders had done an incredible job with their map, but there were a dozen more secret passageways they had never discovered, as well as hideouts and emergency exits that could be used in a crisis.

She'd brought enough of her possessions with her to make personal touches throughout her quarters, but she didn't own enough to truly decorate so many rooms. She'd have to go shopping once she was settled in. Feeling a little more grounded and resolute, Hermione cleared her throat and readied herself.

"Alf?" She called.

The house elf from last year appeared before her with a crack, beaming.

"Alf!" Hermione had to stop herself from pulling him into a hug. "How are you? I so badly wanted to call you after you fetched me last year, but I didn't know if students were allowed to and I didn't want to get you into trouble."

"Students can be calling elves, but students not supposed to be. Elves have important duties, can't be running about after students." Alf informed her, still smiling. "But Alf would have come for Miss, if she'd called. Miss did very well with the Master of Potions. Much less shouting after Miss arrived."

"Thanks, Alf." Hermione patted the little creatures arm. "Did Professor Snape tell you off? I hope he wasn't too angry, you did the right thing."

"The Master was angry." Alf said thoughtfully. "But not as angry as Alf is expecting. Alf knows Alf did right."

"Good." Hermione smiled. "Did he punish you and forbid you from coming to get me if something like that happens again?"

The elf's ears drooped, but a slightly mischievous smile spread onto his little face.

"He is punishing Alf by getting Alf to knock his head against a pillow three times. And forbidding Alf from bringing the Miss to his rooms."

"From bringing me." Hermione repeated, smiling slightly at Snape's extremely soft punishment. "But not telling me?!"

Alf beamed and nodded his head enthusiastically, his ears wobbling.

"But tha-that's!" Hermione spluttered, smiling too. "That's such an oversight! And he's so meticulous! How could he-"

"Humans is expecting elves to obey." Alf said, seriously. "And mostly, elves is obeying. Humans not considering loop holes because they is not needing to, elves is not using them. But Miss was right, Alf is being a good elf looking after Master of Potions, Master is needing the Miss. And Headmistress trumps Master of Potions, she is saying to look after the Master, so Alf will. Miss is understanding?"

"So you won't disobey him directly, but you'll exploit any loop holes to do what's best for him?" Alf nodded. "That's so clever Alf, you are such a good elf."

"Thank you, Miss." Alf beamed. "Alf is taking good care of the Master, and Miss is helping. Alf will take good care of Miss too."

"Oh." Hermione exclaimed. "Minerva said all the teachers had a specific house elf to look after them, is that- are you- are you assigned to me, then?"

"Alf is with Master of Potions." The elf said. "The Miss has Lolly, she will come and meet Miss after dinner. But Alf will take care of Miss too, whatever Miss needs."

"Thank you, Alf. It's so good to see you, I'm so glad you're doing well and taking such good care of Professor Snape."

"Thank you, Miss." Alf smiled. "Alf is glad the Miss is back to help."

And with a bow and a crack, he was gone again.

Hermione sat back and smiled to herself. Elves were really so much more intelligent than they were given credit for. It almost made her laugh to think of all the generations of Wizards who had left all sorts of loop holes in their instructions to their elves, and the elves who had politely ignored them. The pull of Magical Law struck her again. She so wanted to make the world a safer place for them.


Heading down for dinner that evening, Hermione was filled with nerves. She was nervous to face the staff as an equal now rather than a student, she was nervous of her reception and standing, and she was also so desperate to see Snape she felt like she was on the edge of falling apart. The summer had gone quickly, but she had still missed him. Now she was finally about to see him again, she felt she couldn't possibly wait another moment.

"Hermione!" Neville rushed over to her, pulling her into a tight hug. "It's so good to see you! You look amazing, you're so tanned."

"Oh!" Hermione laughed, returning his embrace. "I just got really burnt gardening."

"Well it suits you. Come on, let's get to the Hall so we can sit together."

The staff all sat together on a round table in the centre of the Hall before term started, and Hermione and Neville walked in to much excitement, with most of the staff coming to hug her and ask how she was. Hermione smiled and greeted them all, her eyes searching the room for Professor Snape. Finally, he entered through the back door, his dark eyes darting around the room. Her hear swelled to finally see him. He looked ... he looked ... he looked awful. His colouring was paler than ever, he had clearly lost weight and his hair was long and greasy. When his tired eyes eventually found hers, Hermione smiled widely despite her concern, it was still so damn good to see him. Something dark and angry crossed his face, before it shuttered, and he turned away from her with a scowl.

Swallowing to dispel the lump in her throat, Hermione turned back to the group surrounding her and gave them her full attention. Though she felt eyes upon on her several times throughout dinner, when she glanced over at Snape he was staring stonily at the table, ignoring everyone around him. She couldn't help but be disappointed by his reaction, she had been so looking forward to seeing him, she had hoped he might have felt the same, at least a little. Except ... except he was Snape. Forcing herself to look at the reaction objectively and consider their interactions over the last year, Hermione took a deep breath and considered that maybe, just maybe, he had been pleased to see her. Perhaps more so than he was comfortable with, and that was why he had reacted so poorly. And he had walked in on her surrounded by people chatting to her warmly, while his arrival had gone unnoticed, then he'd been largely ignored. And she was looking very well, having spent the summer with her closest friends, while he looked...

"It's so good to see you, Professor Snape." She whispered, just about managing to catch up with him as he exited the hall. "I missed you over the summer, you know."

She squeezed his arm and turned away before the blush overtook her face. She knew she had sounded nonchalant, but her face would always betray her. Snape hadn't really reacted at all. But then that was better than him shouting at her for her audacity. She'd take it.


Sorry this chapter is a bit anticlimactic after the last one, but it needed to be transitional. Next one is better ;)