"Why are you in a mood this evening, Hermione?" Severus asked from his spot at the kitchen table.

The question surprised her. She hadn't realized he paid attention to anything she did. She cursed herself for underestimating a spy and taking his lack of … communication to mean he was unobservant. Of course he wasn't. She wondered if he ever truly was, his time in a coma aside.

She had stayed past just ensuring his dinner was ready today, because she didn't want to go home. She was … not irritated necessarily … with her roommates. They were sticking their noses where it just didn't belong. They got along, but she wouldn't say they were friends as she and Ginny and Luna were.

So, she made herself look busy here in the kitchen as an avoidance tactic. Evidently he noticed. She shouldn't be surprised. He probably noticed more than she realized. She tried to ignore that it made her feel good that he noticed her mood was any different from yesterday. Or any other day since she'd been coming here.

She'd been noticing lately that him noticing anything about her made her feel good, and she wasn't sure that was a beneficial path to go down. She didn't see how it was going to end up with her being anything but frustratedly alone.

As if she had a choice, though.

She also had been noticing she was going out of her way in the morning to do something to get him to notice her. Her hair, make up, a nice pair of shoes, or subtle but nice perfume. (She knew anything heavier than subtle would annoy him.) She hadn't even paid attention until the past week or so.

She felt so foolish when she realized what she was doing! Severus Snape was the last wizard she needed to develop feelings for. Too late, obviously.

She had no idea when it happened. He'd never really been anything but short with her, but the way he'd looked at his yard the first time she'd bargained with him to go out there. Well, she'd felt good. He'd liked it. He hadn't said so, but she could tell.

He tried to be gruff with her when they were working on his exercises, but she sensed it wasn't because he believed she was deficient. There was something else at play that she hadn't figured out yet. She'd found no evidence he was drinking or using drugs. She looked for evidence every morning that he harmed himself or anything after she'd left the night before. She never found he had.

Then, he wasn't doing much of anything. He feigned reading, but she noticed mornings the bookmark never moved much from day to day. He didn't read his mail. He didn't play the guitar she noticed in his living room. (She'd dusted it, so it obviously hadn't been played or even picked up in some time.)

It made her so sad. She wanted to make him whole. She wanted him to let her in. She wanted to be the one to help make him whole.

Pathetic.

That wasn't going toward answering his question, though.

Did she want to answer him? She wasn't sure. He hadn't in weeks really initiated a conversation with her. Not like this. Oh, he'd brought up an article he read at breakfast or a football score, but he was asking her a personal question.

On the other hand, maybe if she told him why she didn't want to go home, he'd ridicule her or something to make whatever these feelings were for him diminish. They certainly weren't going away on their own. They were too subtle for that to happen, she suspected. These weren't the  heart-hammering, love at first sight feelings.

"My flatmates. I have been trying to study and they've decided for the past week to have company every night until well after one in the morning. It makes it difficult to do anything - even sleep - when I don't know who's on the other side of my door. They don't seem to understand why my safety is important to me. Coupled with my taking my job seriously, and that I prefer not to show up looking as if I partied the night before on a regular basis. Well, it's just annoying."

"Mm," he said with a nod. He showed no sign of ridiculing her, though. Hmm. Just in case, because it was rather nice to think he cared about her mood. It made her feel warm inside. He should be making her feel nothing, inside or out, damn it!

"I'm sure it sounds ridiculous to you. Then, maybe not. You didn't grow up surrounded by siblings or anything either. At least at Hogwarts there were other places I could go when my flatmates were being insufferable pains in my arse."

"My, they have gotten on your bad side, haven't they?"

He was no doubt laughing at her, but that was okay. It felt good to talk about it. She couldn't say anything to Harry. He knew them, so she wouldn't risk anything getting back to them. Accidentally, he'd never do it deliberately. He'd also offer her the room at Grimmauld Place she'd stayed in before again, and she didn't want to be tempted. She was finally on the verge of sleeping decently. Grimmauld Place would not be a continued step toward that end, she was sure of it.

"Yes, well. It seemed like a good idea at the time, an improvement over the Black residence for certain."

"What are you studying now? You have completed your training, haven't you?"

"I checked out some muggle books on physical therapy. I want to be sure I'm doing everything that I can for you."

"I am pleased with my progress."

She wasn't sure that was exactly true, but the attempt at praise was appreciated. And there went that warm feeling spreading. Damn him!

"I'm glad that you are, Severus, but I want you better than just progressing."

"Understood."

"It doesn't help that one of them tried to set me up with someone the other night."

"Oh? And that did not go well?"

"No! I wasn't at all prepared, they just sprung it on me. So I'm sure I sounded like an idiot."

He hadn't been at all to her liking either, which hadn't helped. So she had probably come across as being the magical equivalent of a stuck-up bitch. Did they really think she'd like someone like that? She was pretty sure he didn't even know that Binns was dead the entire time he'd had him as a professor.

"I'm not sure that you could sound like an idiot if you tried, Hermione."

He was complimenting her? She was doomed. And that really didn't make her as happy as having these feelings should make her.

She threw the cloth into the sink and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"They seem to think that there's something wrong with me because I'm over twenty and not engaged or courting, or whatever antiquated magical society calls it."

He scoffed and she arched a brow at him.

"You laughing at me doesn't help the situation."

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at them. You're right. If you get much older you'll be viewed as an old maid."

"Not helping, Severus."

"Well, Hermione, if you let me get a word in edgewise you'd hear that I am not agreeing with them. It's about what you want in life, isn't it? Not everyone gets married fresh out of Hogwarts. As you saw by Lupin and even Black, I wasn't the only exception to that. So, you need to decide if going against the norm, because it is the norm, is worth it to you."

"How do I know?"

"Do you like what you do?"

"Yes," she said. "I really do. Ron questioned my ability to be a healer, but I really do like helping others. Using my knowledge, all of it, to help get them better."

"Would you like giving it up?"

"No."

Truthfully, she'd questioned herself when she'd decided to pursue being a healer. She had no idea where the idea even came from, because it had not been something that even crossed her mind during her time at Hogwarts. She supposed those months on the run changed something. Changed her priorities. Her view. Her.

"I think you have your answer. At least for now. You'll know when you meet the right one, Hermione, because you won't have to choose. He will accept you for who, and what, you are."

She scoffed. She couldn't believe she was taking advice from Severus Snape. Had he even gotten laid in her lifetime? Not that that was an accurate way to judge his ability to offer her advice. But affairs of the heart, he wasn't exactly known to be an expert.

"I just feel … defective."

"You're not defective. Wanting knowledge and not being a mindless twit of a sheep is not defective."

"It feels like it."

It really did. That was part of her problem. She felt as if she was doing something wrong. God, even Neville was dating and actively … looking. Even. That wasn't a slight in Neville's direction. He was a competent wizard, a good man, and attractive on top of knowing plants like nobody's business. Much like Severus' chosen expertise of potions, herbology was not a subject many took much time to educate themselves in.

"I know."

"How did you do it?"

"I stopped listening. I had to. I was, of course, a bit preoccupied with other things to particularly care what people thought about me and my marital status and lack of offspring. You don't think I know what people said, say, about me? I know. Let them think what they want."

"I don't want to be alone forever, though," she mumbled.

"Most don't," he said with a soft sigh.

Did he? Did he still love a dead woman? Had he ever gotten close to anyone else? Why did she care? And not in the feeling sorry for him sense of caring. She cared. She wanted to be the person he got close to.

Pathetic.

Talk about the perfect example of the unobtainable man.

Here he was.

"Anyway," she said, realizing she'd really gone into his personal time staying this late. "I should go. I didn't mean to stay longer than usual today. I just really wish I had my own flat. My own space. Or at least people who understood me better. They're nice enough, and I know that they think that they are trying to be helpful. I just don't want their help. You know?"

"I do," he said.

She knew he wasn't being cheeky either. He truly did understand. She imagined it was the reason he had kept this house. One of them anyway. His own space. It was one of the things she'd grown to really like about him. He got her in ways no one else did, or ever had. Not even her parents really. She just wasn't a people person.

She liked people, of course. She didn't want to be completely secluded. She just preferred them in small doses. And not annoying. And not overly boisterous. And not setting her up on dates with people that were not at all her type.

Okay, maybe she didn't like people much after all?

"Are you still studying?"

"Yes, that was the plan."

"Your books are at your flat? Or are they in that bag of yours?"

"I have them with me." The idea of leaving them somewhere she wasn't would never occur to her. The glint in his eyes told her he knew that. Had he been joking? Teasing her? How … oddly exciting to think.

"You could stay here until it's time for you to go to sleep if you wish to. I'll be in my basement seeing to some things for a little while, but you know your way in and out."

"Oh no…"

That would be intruding way too much, and she knew he already viewed her mere presence here as a complete imposition.

"You were just wishing for a suitable environment to study in. I'm offering it to you."

"Yes, but at your expense."

"I can go up to bed early if you were to get truly bothersome."

She snorted softly because he'd been surprisingly … pleasant around her after the first few days. Those first few had been … bad, as if he was testing her. She would not cave. She wanted to help this man. What was more, she knew - even that first day - that she could help this man. She wasn't exactly sure how, but she wanted to do her best to see to it that the Severus Snape leaving her care was better for it.

Not just physically either.

And if they were friends when she finished her assignment? All the better. Though her heart these days was saying it wouldn't be good enough. Her head, though, knew that she would accept what she got to be able to talk to this man.

Her boss was surprised she'd lasted this long. She was aware that he'd gone through quite a few healers prior to her requesting the assignment. She was pretty sure there were some bets as to her failure, and just how badly she would fail, by those she entered training with who still weren't finished.

She couldn't help it that she was an overachiever!

And here he was offering her use of his living room. She'd love to see the faces of the previous healers who'd tried to work for him at this turn of events.

"If you're sure you wouldn't mind."

"I wouldn't have offered it if I thought that I would."

No, he certainly wouldn't have. He didn't say things he didn't mean. At least not anymore.

"Well, I might just take you up on that then. I should go get something to eat."

"You can have some of mine," he said.

"Oh, but that's for you."

"Which you bring me and cook. Unless my company is the issue, and if it is then I can take my leave."

"No, not at all. I just wasn't expecting you to make the offer at all."

"I wasn't raised in a barn, Hermione."

"Nor did I ever expect that statement to come out of your mouth."

"Yes, well. Sit, eat, and study to your heart's content. You know where everything is, obviously."

And so she did.

She sat and ate dinner with him. After she cleaned up, she took her book and sat in the living room with him. She read and he read, going to the basement a few times.

It was somewhat nice, as evenings went. They talked a few times about inconsequential things, more it seemed to fill the complete silence with something. An acknowledgement of the other's presence. It wasn't bad, though. He didn't even tell her to shut up or leave. She was the one who realized that she had well and truly overstayed any polite welcome issued to her.

And that started a routine for them. Unspoken as it went, but she no longer rushed to leave as soon as she was done making his dinner. She stayed.

Some nights they talked while eating about what he'd read or heard about happening in the muggle world. Never the magical world. He never asked, and she respected his boundaries. As much as she was bound and determined to get him back to the magical world where he belonged. She knew it wouldn't happen overnight, and it wouldn't happen as a result of her prodding him. She firmly believed that Severus Snape did belong in the magical world. It would take time, she knew. It might take longer than her time with him would span. She knew that, too. He probably felt very used.

She couldn't blame him.

Some nights she read, some nights they played cards, some nights they watched the telly. Some nights he did retire upstairs to his bedroom long before she knew he was going up there to sleep. She didn't get a sense on those nights that it was her, or anything she'd done, but that he just didn't wish to be social. She didn't stay as long those nights. She never saw anything moved or out of place the following mornings after those nights, so suspected he didn't go downstairs again once she'd left.

Some nights they talked. Some nights they said very little.

It was oddly nice. And comforting. It was also quite real. Despite their avoiding the topic of anything magical. She really hadn't expected him to be at all congenial to her, so it was a nice turn of events.

And it was making her fall more and more in love with him.

Weeks went by and their conversations got freer, but she still felt as if she wasn't reaching him completely. He was holding something back.

Probably several somethings.

She was his physical healer not his mental one, so she couldn't expect him to unload on her. (Truthfully, she probably didn't want him to either.)

Of course, the magical world didn't treat mental issues. They didn't even seem to think they existed, much to her chagrin. It was one of the things she planned to change. Hoped to anyway.

So people like Severus who had done horrific things throughout his life were left to deal with those memories by his own devices.

Granted, some of those things were done in a hugely misguided attempt to belong while some were when he was acting as a spy. From her understanding and research anyway. The testimony about him while he was in his coma was both horrific and heroic. Anyone who thought acting as a spy for the Order compromised little more than sitting around talking was hugely mistaken.

She didn't have romanticized ideals about him being some perfect person. She wasn't infatuated with someone she believed to be a Bryonic hero. She knew he'd done bad things for misguided reasons. She didn't think he joined Voldemort to be a murderer. She knew he called Harry's mother a hateful word. The glimpses she'd gotten into the man told her he hadn't meant it, he'd been hurt and embarrassed so lashed out. She couldn't blame Lily Evans for not forgiving her friend, but she had accepted Draco's apology and he'd called her that many times over the years.

Regardless. She thought he'd more than paid for those bad things he'd done and said, though.

And, well, because people didn't stop to think about what he'd been through, the things he'd done, he was left to suffer. He was left to his own devices, and something told Hermione he didn't have very good coping skills.

She tried, but he would never offer much. She'd get glimpses, glimmers of things he'd done and how he felt while doing them, and now having done them. He was efficient and practiced at keeping his walls up, though. She didn't push, but she encouraged and tried to gain information and get him to talk by phrasing things in different ways. He always seemed to catch on though, which she was not at all surprised by truthfully.

His mind was what she was pretty sure made her fall in love with him. It was so intriguing to meet someone who had read more books than she had. Who had so much information in his mind. Ron and Harry thought he was a pompous git at one point, but she was fairly certain of the wizards they met who thought a lot of themselves, he was one who deserved to.

There was a reason Albus Dumbledore had chosen him to promise to kill him.

Not that he said these things. No, he didn't and wouldn't. Nor could she read him, despite her efforts (that he usually thwarted). She was pretty sure he thought she believed she was being clever.

She admired that about him in some ways. She thought she was too easy to read. That was the primary reason she was so frustrated with her flatmates. They knew she wasn't looking to get involved right now. She really wanted to focus on her career. She was hoping she could start others thinking about the mental health of the magical community. She couldn't do it by herself, but it had to start somewhere!

Couldn't they see how many people were suffering from things that weren't physical? Best to ignore what you don't know or what you deem making someone weak.

She knew he wasn't happy. She didn't think anyone needed to be particularly smart to know that.

She suspected he did not expect to make it past the war, and was none too pleased that he'd been saved. She looked regularly even this long into their association for indications or evidence that he was trying to take matters into his own hands. She'd seen no prescribed muggle pain killers. She'd seen no evidence of illegal narcotics in his home or of him using them. (He didn't leave his home that she knew of, but she still looked for signs on his person despite none being on the premises.) She had never seen any signs he'd cut or tried to harm himself. He had scars aplenty, but none were recent or fresh. He used a straight edge razor to shave with, so clearly if he wanted to take his own life he had the tool available to him every day.

(And she wasn't sure why the idea of sitting on the edge of the tub, watching this man shave with a straight edge razor was utterly fascinating to her. She did not get a thrill from watching her father shave, but Severus was so precise and particular. She just couldn't help but imagine he would be in this daily task, too. And his hands. She had an attraction to those hands, watching him do anything with them. The one or two times he'd assisted her with chopping vegetables or fruit in the kitchen, she'd been positively entranced.)

She knew though that he did not wish to be here. Here meaning alive, not necessarily his home. Of course, she had no doubt he didn't care to be at his home either. She could tell by the almost lackadaisical way he participated in his therapy. He had checked out probably before the war's end. Was it the night he killed Dumbledore? Or was it the first time he had to let a Hogwarts student be punished in the name of his role? She suspected the problem was that he didn't know where he belonged any longer in this post-war world. What was there to do for a former spy who everyone on both sides loathed?

He went through the steps, but she knew he wasn't trying as hard as he could be to get better. She'd expect someone like Severus Snape to push himself to the limits. To the point that she would have to caution him to step back, not take things too fast. Instead, he did just more than the bare minimum. Enough, she'd think he was trying, but only just that. She wouldn't be able to accuse him of not trying this way.

She noticed that he rarely, if ever, opened let alone answered any of the mail he received. She knew there were quite a few letters from Harry mixed in with others from whom all she had no idea. She didn't snoop, and wasn't paid to go through his mail. Even when she sorted through his study, she'd boxed everything up without looking deeply at things. It was clear the room hadn't been used since before the war's end, so any bill that might have been in the stack of papers on his desk was long past due by the time she came along. She just liked having somewhere to sit where she could hear if he needed something while resting. The bookcase in there was just an added bonus. She assumed he opened his non-magical mail, because he still had things like running water, electricity, and trash pickup.

It was with this in mind, wanting him to see that there was life after war. A life for him after war, that she decided to take a chance one afternoon. He'd been, mostly, cooperative with her since his first trip to the backyard with her. He seemed to recognize that if she suggested something, she truly believed it was good for him. That she wasn't out to hurt or embarrass him.

"No lunch," he asked when he came down from his rest.

He'd balked almost violently the first day or two she'd suggested a respite after their morning exercises before lunch. He'd accused her of thinking he was a child or an invalid. Neither of which was true in the least. However, healing was taxing, and she knew his body while in a coma until months ago would still need to rest while they worked muscles that hadn't been used in months.

One thing she knew (and he did, too, now). They were both willful people. If he'd been at full strength, she might have been concerned he'd cast a spell on her or something to unhand him. He hadn't, though. She hadn't taken that to mean he couldn't either, merely that deep down, he'd known she was right. And she was a healer where he was not.

It would be ingrained in him to listen to her instructions. Granted, she was certain he didn't always follow those instructions. The thought of how many times he'd taught class fresh from a round of torture, with or without the cruciatius as part of it. Well, it was better she didn't think about that.

Overall, he was a polite man who took education seriously, so would presume someone who completed their training knew what they were talking about.

She knew he didn't always sleep when he went upstairs before lunch, but she tended to work him harder in the mornings than in the afternoons. He was still healing from the effects of the poison and everything else, so needed rest. He was also the most abrasive in the mornings so she needed a break sometimes, too.

"Actually, we're going to try something new today."

She said this, hoping it wasn't a mistake, but she had to get him out of this house! He wasn't doing it on his own that she was aware of. He just couldn't stay holed up here. It wasn't healthy.

"Oh? Osmosis? Or is it hide and seek?"

She smiled. She couldn't help it. His face was straight, no hint that he'd attempted a joke, but she was coming to know that was just how he was. Some would call it a dry wit. She wasn't sure it was that, or he was just so used to occluding and having no emotions to display.

"While both are valid options. Neither today. It's called we're going to walk down to that fish and chips place I've seen when I've gone walking."

"I cannot…"

She knew he'd say this. Also knew that he hadn't tried!

"You haven't tried! Do you think I'd suggest it if I didn't think that you could make it that far, Severus?"

He glared at her. A familiar stern gaze that nine years ago would have ended up in her looking away. She wasn't that witch any longer. She'd fought on a war. She'd flown on thestrals and dragons. She could withstand his glare. He thought she'd cave, but she would not. He should have learned that by the laying down after morning exercises battle. Sitting here by himself, seeing no one but her, was not good for anyone!

"Fine," he spat.

"Wonderful," she said, clasping her hands together. "Is this what you wish to wear?"

"What?" This was spat with a sneer. "Am I too common for you?"

She scoffed. He knew better. She knew that he did. He was trying to irritate her. Poke at her so she'd change her mind on this idea. He didn't want to go. He agreed, but he would do what he could to make her decide not to.

"Please. I just don't want you to be any more uncomfortable than I'm sure you will be walking outside with your cane."

She knew the need for the cane was a sore spot for him. He didn't want a physical sign that might make others think he was weak.

As if.

And it was weakness over perceived advancement in age that seemed to be his achilles heel.

"I'm good."

They made their way out the front door and she kept her steps slow so that he wouldn't feel rushed.

"How much of this is as you remember it?"

She asked the question when it was clear he was, in fact, going to walk with her and not turn around and go back inside. She was worried he might. She really thought he could do more than he gave himself credit for. Again, as if he'd just given up. He was content to let her put him through the paces with his therapy, but he wasn't doing anything on his own time to better himself.

"From my childhood, you mean?"

"Yes," she said.

"Nothing."

That sneer was there again, but she sensed it wasn't directed at her this time. She wasn't trying to push, not really. It was a logical question to ask, though, since he'd grown up here.

"Really?"

"They were nice houses when my parents moved in here. The mill closing down led to most people moving away. Some had saved for a rainy day and stayed while they found other work. Some bothered to learn other skills that they could use elsewhere. My father was not one of them on either count."

"Oh," she said.

What else was there to say? She didn't know much of anything about his childhood. Aside from the fact that she got the impression it wasn't at all pleasant. So his father had lost his job? How sad. That he told her this much was rather astounding.

"The park where I'd met Lily was relatively safe at the time. A better part of town. I didn't frequent there at night much."

He gestured with his head in the direction she knew there was a park from her times trying to familiarize herself with the neighbourhood. She wanted to know what was around his house. In part to see if she had to set wards or something he didn't already have.

"Not anymore I take it?"

"No, not unless you wear the right colours, or are looking to make a transaction of some sort."

"I see," she said. "Why did you keep it?"

This was a question that had been bothering her as she cooked in his kitchen and did things around the house. He obviously had put no effort into its upkeep. It was clear he loathed the place, and likely the memories that came with it, but he stayed. She didn't think it was whimsy that had him doing it either.

He shrugged. "Better the devil you know…"

"But it's your home."

"That I lived in for less than two months out of the year, at most, until now. I wasn't planning on living long enough to question my sanity in keeping it. Honestly," he said, stopping here. She didn't push. She suspected if he thought she was trying to, he'd quit talking. She liked hearing him talk. He talked to her, not at her. Said things she didn't get the impression he would tell just anyone. She took that to mean he trusted her. That and his voice was wonderful to hear no matter what he was talking about. "Albus asked me to. He thought it sold the story of my … pining better."

"I suppose," she said, nibbling on her lower lip.

So did that mean he hadn't truly been pining for a dead woman the past twenty years? Someone else's wife? Her best friend's mother? If so, that painted things in a bit of a different light, as far as her feelings being completely misguided. If she wasn't competing with Lily Potter, that made her feel infinitely better. She wasn't sure why, other than if he'd loved her for twenty years he clearly had a type.

And Hermione wasn't it.

Of course, the chance of him reciprocating those feelings was another matter entirely. That made the warm feeling the realization he might not still love Harry's mum caused dwindle a bit. It was still there, though.

It always was these days.

"Who did you know?" he asked after a moment's silence between them.

She appreciated the break from that train of thought. This walk was supposed to distract her from her thoughts of him, not create more of them. Like how nice it would be if they were taking this walk not as a recuperating wizard and healer.

"Who did I know what?"

"A user. You know one."

"Oh, yes. A muggle friend of mine. She lived next door to us. We are still friends, I guess, more or less. As much as I can be with someone I haven't seen more than a few weeks of the year since I turned twelve and not at all since 1997. Her mum was an addict. She'd get so embarrassed when I'd come over and see her mum strung out. Prescription painkillers at first. Eventually, the doctors caught on and she had to go elsewhere. As we got older, she started coming over to my house exclusively. Even if I went to her door, we ended up at my house. I never told Mum or Dad, because she said she had nowhere else to go and her dad was all right. She just liked having somewhere to be when her dad was at work and her mum was … bad. What gave me away?"

He chuckled lightly. "You have checked my nail beds, fingers and toes. You are always discreet, but you knew what you were looking for. Once upon your initial visit to me I could understand, but you've done it more than once."

"Oh, yes. She got very crafty when she had to find things illegally."

"They always do if they're trying to hide it."

"I guess so. Your father didn't use drugs, though."

She didn't know that for a fact, but she got the impression he was an alcoholic, not an addict. She was surprised he brought this topic up at all, truthfully.

"No, it was a rough crowd around here when I returned from Hogwarts on breaks. Father, well, he could chew peppermints or drink vodka instead of whisky and bullshit anyone into believing whatever he told them. Well, without Mum to provide any arguing testimony."

"And you couldn't?"

"No. I wouldn't be here if I'd tried that. Mum, for all her faults, truly wanted me to get out of here alive," he said with a snort.

"I see. I'm sorry, Severus."

"For what?"

She shrugged. How to explain it without sounding as if she had a Don Quixote complex.

"That there was no one to stand up for you. My friend, Heather is her name, she knew she at least had her dad and us. Her mum wasn't abusive, she just wasn't there. When her mum was having a bad night, she'd spend the night with us with no questions asked. Like I said, I never told Mum and Dad, but I think they knew. I don't know if Mr. Mulhaney told them, and it really doesn't matter."

"Heather was lucky to have you."

"I know. She knows that, too."

"Do you still talk to her?"

"I've seen her. We aren't close. She thinks I'm some rich snob who got sent to a hoity toity boarding school. I can't really correct her misinformation."

"I suppose not."

"I'd like to be. I liked her, but then I don't know. Maybe knowing those things about her childhood wouldn't translate well into an adult friendship. I'm sure she's trying to move past it. You know?"

And with her parents no longer living in the area it would seem weird if she just showed up out of the blue. So, she did nothing, which probably wasn't the right thing to do either. She really didn't know, and it wasn't as if she'd been knitting sweaters twenty-four hours a day for the past nine years either.

"Mm," he said.

"You never tried?"

"Tried what?" he asked.

"What you could buy with those transactions."

"Mm, no."

"Why not? Not that I'm encouraging it, but if you were that miserable…"

"Well, for one I had no money, and I wasn't going to go to jail for shoplifting or stealing something. My father wouldn't have bailed me out. He wouldn't have allowed my mother to do so either. And then where would I have been? No, I had one option if I wanted out of this hell hole. Walk the straight and narrow. I fucked that up I guess, right proper."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Sure, he wasn't exactly wrong, but it wasn't anything he couldn't recover from. He had recovered, really. He'd changed sides and, in her eyes, the guilt he obviously carried twenty years later was probably worse than any other punishment he would have gotten. He hadn't used the killing curse on anyone. From her research he'd never killed anyone but Albus Dumbledore. That wasn't to say she didn't think he was a saint prior to his changing of sides, but she didn't get the impression he'd been maiming and raping people left and right. He was an informant, though she knew when he was called to the Dark Lord toward the end of the first war and the second. The fact that he felt guilt, remorse told her he wasn't a horrible person.

"And yet, I am still here in the same hell hole, Hermione."

"You are, but you chose to stay here. Even if you didn't choose to, you aren't in the same place you were twenty years ago or even two years ago, Severus. Where you go from here, from this day forward is up to you. Only you."

"Spoken like someone who has always been told they have a bright and unlimited future ahead of them. The sky's the limit, eh, Hermione Granger." There was a hint of anger in his tone here, but mostly disbelief. As if he found it hard to believe she thought that was true.

"You're right. I have. I've come to realize while at Hogwarts meeting Harry, Neville, and, well, you that not everyone had the same upbringing I did. I knew not everyone had the same family life I did. I wasn't that idealistic, but that someone was abused, kept in a cupboard, or told that they couldn't do things. It was completely foreign to me."

"Lucky." He didn't sound upset here, which relieved her.

"I can admit that. However, that doesn't change the fact that the future is yours, Severus. You don't have to stay in that house. You don't have to stay in Britain for that matter. You can go anywhere. Do anything. You know enough about muggle living that you could live absolutely anywhere and hide yourself if that was your desire."

"With what?"

"Oh, don't play that card with me. You can't tell me that you didn't have a bit saved up in the event things went tits up and you had to get out."

"Excuse me?" He wasn't truly offended, she could tell when she glanced at him. There was the hint of a smirk that told her he was amused if anything.

She chuckled softly. "Don't act so shocked."

"I just never thought I'd hear that expression coming out of the Gryffindor Princess' mouth."

"Yeah, well. Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

"You don't know me as well as you think you might, Hermione. A few months as my healer …"

"You're right," she said, interrupting him.

She didn't want him to say anything mean or hurtful that would make her regret suggesting this walk today, and talking to him. He was talking to her like a person, not a student or a healer.

"I'm sure I don't. I still can't imagine you not doing something to prepare for something catastrophic."

"I was prepared to die. I had no future. I had an expiration date, no shelf-life, and I knew that when I made my deal with Albus twenty years ago."

She scoffed. She did not believe him, but she let it go. Who at the age of twenty assumed they were going to die? Yes, there was a war, but her experience at Hogwarts told her that young people thought they were invulnerable. Herself included. There were times she rolled her eyes at some of the things they'd done, and counted her lucky stars they had survived. And then she felt guilty, because people she cared about hadn't. It was a slippery slope. So, she preferred just not to think about it much. Severus Snape was nobody's fool, though, and she firmly believed he had some way out. If Voldemort had won, would he have run? What about the Dark Mark? Could he have been found that way? Not everyone responded to the summons' this go around from Hermione's understanding. Were they discovered? Were they killed? Or had Voldemort not bothered to worry himself with his defectors until after he'd won?

"Well, if it means anything, I'm glad your shelf life and expiration date have been extended, Sir."

He scowled. "I am no longer your professor."

"I wasn't addressing you as my professor, I was addressing you as someone who has done something that earned my respect. And you did."

"You still don't need to address me as sir."

"Noted. No disrespect meant."

Silence and then a barely audible, "I know."

Finally, they arrived at the place she'd seen. It was small and obviously old, but it smelled delicious.

"My treat," he said when she reached for her billfold.

"Oh, no, really," she hadn't invited him to get him to pay for her lunch.

"It was good to get out."

She almost made him repeat himself, but refrained. She was practically giddy inside from that admission. He agreed with her! He hadn't hated it! Oh Merlin. She'd kiss him right now, but she knew that wouldn't go over well.

"Thank you then," she said instead.

They ate in relative silence. He ate rabidly. Walking this far was probably the most actual exercise he'd gotten in over two years. Walking up and down stairs, while it counted, wasn't the same.

They made their way back to his house when they'd finished eating. No further conversation really beyond small talk regarding the weather and people they both knew. He didn't seem as if he particularly cared about the people he asked after, except the professors at Hogwarts. Months, though, and he hadn't asked about anyone until today. She took it as a good sign.

"Care to sit outside while I weed?"

"I think I might actually."

"You know," she said. "If there are things you wanted me to plant, you could tell me and I could shop for them."

"Whatever you'd like, Hermione. This is the most care this yard and its gardens has seen in probably forty years."

"You didn't?"

"Not very well as you saw when you dug the gardens up."

"Well, now that I've done the hard part, maybe you can keep it up," she hoped he would.

It was why she did these things she was doing. She wasn't trying to take over his space, but if she made it so it didn't seem like such a daunting and insurmountable task for him. Well, maybe he'd garden or whatever.

"Anyway, come out whenever you're ready."

She went out the backdoor then, sighing softly as she looked up at the sky. She wanted to get him talking. Today was a start, certainly. She thought that if he could unload some of what he was carrying he'd improve. It wouldn't be immediate, she knew. Something, though. She knew Filius would love to see him. Horace Slughorn, while not teaching, would accept an invitation, too. He clearly wasn't ready for that, so it was on her shoulders. She just hoped she moved him in the direction of wanting to return to the magical world.

And bring them closer in the process.

She was done denying it. She wanted to get closer to him. And for him to want her to get closer.

"Damn you for being so stubborn," she muttered before walking in the direction of the area that needed weeding today.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com