The Front Door

Harry Potter decided to skip Cannon practice that day, and instead ventured over to Hogwarts again, the temptation too potent to ignore. He decided to fly over--it was relaxing for him to fly... wasn't that the thrill of Quidditch, anyway? The flying? Who needed a group of people, two homicidal balls, and an irritating golden ball to enjoy flying?

He landed near the front door, and dawdled over to Dumbledore's office--taking his time, savoring the aura of his former school, wishing that he could be back there as a student. Harry knocked on Dumbledore's office door, and winced at the hoarseness of the voice that permitted him entrance.

Harry entered, and smiled at the Headmaster who was scribbling something on a pad of paper he quickly covered. Overlooking this suspicious movement, Harry sat down in the chair he had frequented numerous times--"Hello, I have a question to ask of you."

Dumbledore's eyebrows arched, and he said, "Well, don't keep me in suspense!"

"I am playing professional Quidditch as you know--but I hate it!" Harry laughed aloud at this. "It's ... pointless... I want a job where I do something to help others, as I was telling Hermione earlier. I want to make a difference in lives, like you do or Hagrid does or Professor McGonagall... I was wondering if there were any openings here?"

The old man's face crinkled into a smile, and he paused pensively. "Funny thing you should say something like that, Harry... I've been debating over something, and you've made up my mind--a decision favorable towards you... but I don't want to tell you now. Continue to play Quidditch for a while, Harry, and don't be skipping any more practices... I'll contact you when the time is ready."

Harry was annoyed by such enigmatic behavior, but he nodded and stood up. "Why the secrecy?"

Dumbledore shrugged apologetically--"Can't tell you... but I've been considering making some changes in my life as well... I'll owl you..."

Hermione walked down to the library the next morning, wondering if she would find Severus waiting for her--or if she would find another message like the one given to her yesterday. She didn't see the familiar stoic figure of the Potions Master outside the library, or inside when she checked. She saw Alex standing by the bookshelves, dusting cautiously, and she approached him--"Alex?"

He turned and smiled. "Yes?"

"Any messages from Severus today?"

Alex shook his head. "No, not today. I did see him walk by around six this morning, however. Is there a problem?"

"You're up at six?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Alex grinned sheepishly. "I've always been an early riser."

"I assume!" she responded, and proceeded to sit down at a table, her thoughts occupied by Severus Snape.

Alex sat across from her, and she heard, vaguely, him ask how the project was going.

"Oh, it's going well... we haven't found the counter-potion yet, but we're working on that..."

"And you're searching...?"

"Oh... Snape Manor, well... actually it was formerly known as Slytherin Manor or something like that... but Severus inherited it. There are a lot of rooms..." She babbled, not really paying attention to the conversation.

"So this counter-curse? What do you plan on doing with it, anyway?" Alex asked her, and she looked at him suddenly.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to tell you that..."

"I think I know--it involves you-know-who, doesn't it?" he said, staring at her with an inexplicable expression clouding up his eyes. "Isn't it going to reduce his power?"

Hermione felt very fervently about this situation she was in--and the fervent feeling was negative, so she just nodded simply, standing up--"Yes, yes... I think I should go search for Severus... it's been nice talking to you..."

Alexander smiled at her, yet the smile seemed to be lacking candid warmth, and he replied, "Yes, you too. Are you busy for lunch all this week? I'd enjoy eating lunch with you..."

"Er--- get back to me on that one... owl me..." Hermione responded, and left abruptly. There was something not right about that Alexander Lockhart, something... She continued walking, and didn't even want to wait to get to the Forbidden Forest to apparate, so she took a broom from the broom closet near the front door, and hopped on it--fleeing from the creepiness, from the uneasy feeling she was experiencing. She landed in Hogsmeade, dropping her broom off in the shed that was Remus Lupin's. He lived in Hogsmeade now, working in a pet shop--a somewhat suitable occupation.

She apparated to Snape Manor, and landed before the vandalized front door. It seemed that her surroundings were much more dismal and suppressing than normal, and she ran into the house, slamming the door behind her. Her heart pounded in synchronicity with her feet that were leading her to the west wing--the first time she had ventured up these stairs on her own. She tried to pacify herself, to regain composure before he saw her looking so flustered because of some stupid summer librarian, but she couldn't. So she ran some more, to the room she recalled working on last. Hermione opened the door, but there was no one there--she ran to the next room, and opened it--no one. The door after that--she ran inside, and then stalled her velocity because of the haunting picture that glared at her--another horrible, awful depiction of tortured Muggles--this one of a man whipping a women, and she stared with large eyes, with large, irate, angry eyes--men were awful...

The door slammed suddenly, and she screamed and began to sob for the second time that day--the darkness of the room and the ugliness of that picture finally getting to her, penetrating her assumed tough exterior--she leapt towards the door, and groped for the handle--trying desperately to turn it, to let herself loose of this captivating tunnel--but it was locked. She sank to her knees, tears slipping down like the rainwater from the slanted roof--and she kept turning the handle, but her hands were so sweaty that they slipped off... she heard some banging on the other side, and she knew that it was Alex coming to capture her, coming to torture her like the man on the picture... she retreated, defeated, crying openly--heavy sobs...

The door came open, and she saw it was Severus, and she felt relieved--but she wasn't relieved of this pain-stricken hysteria, this bubble of panic she was drowning in. He kneeled down, and gathered her to him in a comforting, soothing embrace, and she closed her eyes and attempted to gather her breath. "You stupid, silly girl," she heard him saying, in a voice that seemed as relieved as she had been. "You frightened me, you stupid child!"

His hand caressed her hair tenderly, and she sensed that he was enjoying the closeness as much as she was, and she knew his mumblings were just reassurances for him more than anything. 'Had he been as scared as I was?' she wondered. Her ragged, rapid breathing calmed down, and she felt his heartbeat reduce. Hermione prayed this moment would last forever, but he finally pushed her away, reluctantly it seemed, and looked at her with adoring eyes, "What was that?" he asked simply.

Feeling abashed, and not sure whether or not to tell him the truth--to mention Alex might not be a good thing to do, especially during such a nice exchange. "I was--startled..." she responded lamely.

"I'll say," he retorted. "You're not going to tell me what frightened you so much?"

"That picture..."

"Just that? I know you..." he said, and then looked embarrassed for having admitted that such a relationship existed, and continued--"You've got tougher skin than that... there's something else you're not telling me..."

She just looked up at him, not sure what to say.

Severus, noticing her incessant shivers, took her hands in his and spoke solemnly to her--"Listen... I don't know what reason might be preventing you from telling what has reduced you to such a convulsive state, but ... I beg of you... discard that reason and tell me so we can find a solution,"

I hate seeing her like this, Severus thought, rubbing her hand with his thumb absentmindedly. He looked at her expectedly:

Some inexplicable expression took over her cherubic face, and she began to talk--"I woke up this morning and went to the ... library... you weren't there..."

Severus looked away, feeling overwhelmingly responsible for this traumatic experience, and he saw she was flushed and flustered, but she continued--"I went... to talk to... Alex... and he said you left no message and that he'd seen you leave already... I sat to wait for you... trusting you would... come... prepared fully to yell at you here, if you didn't show... Alex sat... and he started to talk to me... I was preoccupied, you see, and he asked... asked me questions about this... job... what we've been doing here, and I answered... I thought he was just curious... than I saw that he had a strange... creepy look upon his face... and I suddenly feared for my life, I thought it was odd and suspicious that he was asking these questions... I left quickly and arrived here, paranoid, that... he was behind me... and I came into this room... saw the picture, the door slammed... it all seems rather silly to me now..."

Severus felt outraged--"It's NOT silly, not at all! Don't say that..."

He wanted to give her another hug, feel her against him again, but he'd become self-conscious once again about his appearance... 'she would be disgusted,' he thought. 'Now that she's recovered.'

I've always wondered about him... he's always seemed strange..." Severus commented honestly, recalling strange behaviors that he'd ignored before.

Hermione looked around nervously, and said, "But why would he ask me those questions? He seemed to know the answers--seemed to be confirming answers actually... he answered one of his questions before I could," She looked at him with luminous eyes--"I don't want to face him again..."

He noticed suddenly that he was still holding her hands, and felt deep self-loathing--'Stop acting so pitiful... she probably thinks me as desperate for human touch--and maybe I am!' Severus let her hands free and asked, "Do you feel safe returning to Hogwarts?"

She shook her head firmly.

"Where would you feel safe?" He asked, resisting the urge to hold her, calm her fears, and destroy Alexander Lockhart. "With Harry? Your parents? Another friend? ... Leaky Cauldron? Where?"

She seemed to be involved in a mental battle--she looked up at him, and spoke hesitantly," Well... actually, I think... I'd feel most safe... with you actually."

Boom--his heart nearly did explode, his pulse exhilarated, and he nodded dumbly--feeling accepted for nearly the first time in his life except when he had become a Death Eater. He spoke, "Are you sure? Seems to me, I'm one to fear as well..."

Hermione scooted closer to him, and he wondered why? - "When I was younger, when I was a little girl... you're not so scary anymore... in fact, I've grown accustomed to you... in fact, I really enjoy your company... Am I your equal?" she asked, an intrepid question coming from a former pupil.

"You're more... you're above me in all areas... you're a ... magnificent woman... human being," Severus smiled, a smile foreign to his face and he noticed how she'd blushed at the word 'woman'.

"Smile more often," She commanded. "It looks nice."

"Believe me, if I could stop smiling I would have... it's hurting my cheeks," he commented, chuckling. Hermione giggled, but her expression of happiness faltered as her eyes rested on the portrait behind him. He stood up, frowning, and helped her up as well. "Let's leave," he said to her, placing his arm around her should without thought--feeling it was an acceptable gesture--almost a fatherly one, and besides--she wanted to stay here, with him. His bottle of confident was full. Hermione leaned against him, but he told himself it was for support and nothing else.

How strange this is, she was thinking. But it didn't feel strange--it felt familiar, nice... yet the truth was the situation was strange. She was enjoying herself fully, despite it all, feeling quite secure. Severus was trying hard to look forward, with an impassive facial expression--she kept looking up at him, delighting in his discomfort. But he wasn't going to give in by averting his eyes to her--he wasn't going to betray himself so soon. Oh, Hermione would crack him--she knew, she could see it in his eyes and his actions, that what he felt about her was the reciprocal of what she was feeling now.

It was hard for her to believe that it was still morning--the darkness of the West Wing, and the darkness of this occurrence taken into consideration. But it was indeed not yet noon--which was apparent when they exited the double doors that enclosed and hid the West Wing from public scrutiny.

Hermione felt light-hearted and beautiful right now--she felt that she was the most desirable woman in the world, and because of this man she rested her head against. She wondered where he was leading her--and soon she found herself in the dining room... or a dining room, a place like this might have numerous.

She sat down in the chair he pulled out for her, and smiled as he sat in the chair diagonal from hers. Severus studied her with his shadowed eyes and said, "Do you feel like working today?"

"I want to go outside," She said, abruptly, and looked at him curiously.

He looked back at her, and said, "You want to go outside? I don't know if this experience has affected your sense of hearing, but it's raining outside."

Hermione smiled coyly at him (Did she do that on purpose? Did she know what a smile like that did to a man?) and stood up. "Come on, it'll be fun," she urged him, tugging his sleeve in a feeble attempt to yank him to his feet. He obliged to her request, but was definitely not going outside in the rain.

"If you think I'm going to frolic around in the rain..."

"Not frolic," she remarked. "We'll walk."

Severus shook his head, and said, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm going to remain firm... what are you doing?"

She had taken his hand in hers in a delicate yet unyielding grip and looked up him with those luminous eyes, seeming to display through her pupils some indistinct emotion--"Come on!" she ordered him as he'd heard her do to Weasley and Potter many times before, but he found it didn't agitate him as it once had. Hermione headed towards the stairs, dragging him along--he uttered no protests, as a sojourn in the rain was worth it for such an intimate moment. He expected her to relinquish his hand (heart) as soon as she saw he was following devoid of any reluctance, but she didn't. Severus wondered if she fully appreciated how romantic this situation was--if it was intended?

He scowled--of course not, she would be disgusted if she knew what you were thinking. But when she side-glanced at hi and he caught sight of her grin, his doubts diminished and he was determined to enjoy this--milk it for all it was worth, as he'd heard on Muggle television once. Besides, she feels safe with you. But then, was that a good thing? Then he'd really feel awful about these feelings he had for her.

The rain wasn't light, nor was it pounding against the earth. It was heavy against the top of his head, but his clothes remained relatively dry and intact. Severus found himself musing about what the rain would do to Hermione's clothes, but tried to coerce the thought from his mind. She feels safe with you, he reminded himself.

He saw where she was heading, but she stopped and looked at him--"Are there any other places ..."

"Let's just go there..."

"I don't know..."

"I want to go there... do you mind?" he asked her, wanting to confront the gazebo and the lake before the silence about the matter escalated anymore. Besides, there was some protection from the rain impairing his tailored cloaks.

Hermione nodded, and averted her eyes--she unclasped his hand, and headed hastily towards the path--then towards the gazebo when it appeared--looking quite welcoming in Severus's eyes.

When they were both seated, Severus remarked--"Now was that worth it?"

Her hair was damp and frizzy--but instead of frowning down upon it as he once would have (in such a hypocritical manner, when he took into account his hair), he found it charming. Hermione shrugged, and looked vaguely towards the lake--and he looked there as well--watching the way the raindrops accumulated into the mass of water. Severus felt a shiver when he realized this was the way it had all begun--the way the lake had formed, that is, because of raindrops gathering together in a pit of dust. And from a pit of dust and a lack of sunshine--a pleasant lake.

He felt her eyes upon him, and he felt uneasy. Severus spoke--a movement that surprised her because she jumped slightly--"Why are you studying me?"

Hermione stood still a moment, and he did also before glancing at her. She was looking quite desirable against the white wood and in the shadows of the corner--as darkness was to be expected in a rainstorm, all the natural light was hibernating. The rain drizzling behind her only enhanced the beauty emanating from the librarian.

"What is someone supposed to say to a question like that?"

"The truth."

"Well--you... you were just... there... my eyes just landed on you..." she stammered, looking and sounding as though she was back in Potions, under his cynical watch.

"It makes me feel nervous when people study me--I think that they're thinking about my ugliness," he commented, openly.

"I wasn't. I don't think you're ugly," Hermione remarked softly. "I think you just don't take care of yourself."

Severus looked down at his hands which he entwined subconsciously in the buttons of his outer cloak--"Do you ever wonder why I don't?"

"Yes."

"Well I'll tell you. People hate me, Hermione. They hate me after they get to know me well. If I have an ugly appearance, if the first thing they think when they see me is 'ugh' than that'll make the painful process of their curiosity turning to hatred go much quicker. It's easier to hate someone who looks awful."

"Hey!" Hermione said, indignant. "That's ... something... why would you believe something like that? I don't hate you."

"You did."

"But then I got to know and understand you! ... here, look at me--You gave me good reason to hate you, do you disagree?"

Severus shook his head; "I was just facilitating my life a bit by making you hate me from the start."

"That's pathetic!" Hermione said, in a dynamic one note away from a shout. "I can't see why you would... expect people to hate you."

"They all did," he muttered. "My father, my step-father, my class-mates, and the ones who didn't... who didn't hate me... well, they all left. Eventually. The only one who stayed behind was Dumbledore and even he didn't like me until I had done him some favors, until I had returned to his side as a spy."

"Why are you griping then? You wanted them to hate you..."

"No, I didn't," Severus said solemnly.

"You expected it, so naturally it was going to happen..." Hermione seemed tense all of sudden. "Don't say stuff like that."

"What, Miss Granger, you can't handle the truth?" he mocked her.

"No--I can't handle the fact that despite your age and your apparent maturity, you would moan and whine like a child about your lack of friends--or people hating you. I can't help but compare you to Harry... Harry whose been loathed by hundreds at one time because they thought he was attacking students with a basilisk... Harry whose been on the run from all of Voldemort's supporters since day one... I've never heard him complain... and then me, I don't have many friends either. I annoy many people, you included at one time. But I kept my head up, I didn't pity myself, I didn't wallow in my grief. That's disgusting."

He gawked, thinking that if had the ability to blush this would be the time for it. The day Hermione Granger would render him speechless seemed a day that would never come, but alas it had snuck up on him. But what could he say? Severus, feeling very low and repugnant (and pathetic for more reasons than one--pathetic because he felt that for her to think him ugly without cause would be unbearable--pathetic because he had to explain his actions to a Gryffindor--pathetic because he didn't want her to think he was pathetic) and feeling that it was necessary that she not think him disgusting for too much longer, asked, "What can I do to regain your respect?"

Hermione stared at him, apparently shocked by his humble statement, and said--"I still respect you, I've just found something I don't respect very much. We all have our faults, you know, I have big ones... I've found another one of yours, that's all. That's the great thing about us Gryffindors, in case you were wondering."

They sat in a slightly awkward silence, and Severus watched the raindrops splatter into the lake--it was a strange feeling to be seated next to her observing the rain--but a strangeness he welcomed. He supposed what she said, or implied rather, was true: Slytherins were incapable of the 'forgive and forget' concept--once a flaw was found in one's characters (one other than a Slytherin, that is) that person was to be regarded in low esteem. Maybe he had taken a step forward by allowing himself to... fall (if that was the appropriate word) for this young Gryffindor. Hermione, unable to bear the silence he supposed, finally blurted out, "I don't know anything about your family."

"I don't know anything about yours," he pointed out, as a decoy to get away from the topic of his past--for all his family belonged in the past.

"My family's boring--I want to know about you," she enunciated solidly.

He glared at her slightly, but acquiesced to her wishes. "I'm literally a bastard--don't look so shocked, I'm sure you've heard Weasley use that word many times before--usually in the same sentence as my name. My mother conceived me before she was married--and was married a few months after my birth to a man named Joseph Snape--who wasn't my father, so in a sense I'm not a Snape. But as it goes so nicely with my first name... My mother's name was Carla--she was a wonderful person. She died though, when I was in my fifth year. My ... Joe didn't even care to notify me that she was sick, and she certainly didn't have the heart too--we were very close, my mother and I, and I hated Joe and he hated me in return. So she died, and all of sudden I was confronted with the loss of my mother in school. There's my family."

"What happened to Joe?" Hermione asked him softly, candidly interested.

"That git got murdered by a Death Eater..." Severus said, his voice trailing off as voluminous quantities of incidents filled his head. His eyes narrowed, as he recalled a certain occurrence when he'd been fleeing from Joe--this particular time he'd run into the West Wing despite his mother's many chidings not to venture back there and he'd discovered the room with the two trunks. He bolted to his feet suddenly, and looked at Hermione with astonishment. "I've totally forgotten!"

She had followed him to the doorway at the very end of one of the twin corridors in the West Wing--and had followed him up the creaky and dubious-looking staircase, thankful to feel solid ground beneath her feet. And now she stood next to him, looking down at two trunks--the complete furnishing of a concealed little room with only a window providing poor light because of the current weather conditions. Hermione looked at Severus with a befuddled expression, but he took no notice of her--a fact which offended her deeply. She had already confirmed that Severus was romantically inclined towards her--and now she wanted his full attention, which wasn't so much to ask, was it?

He sank to his knees, and fumbled with the opening of one of the trunks, and revealed to her an assortment of papers. Severus looked over to her, and mumbled an explanation--"This was where I had discovered the potion... I looked through all these papers however... and I ..."

A spasmodic action later, all the papers were flooding the wooden floors, and Severus was examining the trunk. He starting spewing out different charms and incantations--trying to reveal any messages the trunk might hold. He looked up at her helplessly a few moments later--looking so vulnerable, allowing himself to be seen so vulnerably by her... she crouched beside him, and took the trunk from him. Remembering a few tricks from those dreadful Nancy Drew books she'd once read, she made some quick calculations--and unless those calculations were erroneous, the bottom of the inside of the trunk was false. Or in plainer words, there was space beneath the "bottom" of the trunk and the actual bottom.

She explained this theory to Severus, who nodded at her and murmured--"That's logical."

They plied off the boards with a crowbar Severus summoned from somewhere in the house ("You kept Muggle instruments in your house?" Hermione had questioned; "I guess I had a Muggle-born uncle who stored these away long ago."), and neither had been surprised to find an envelope with 'counter-potion' inscribed upon it. In fact, the moment had been rather anti-climatic with all the other events that had happened, and the rush in which the secret compartment had been discovered.

Severus was staring at the envelope that he held in his hands, and Hermione spoke fragilely--"Well, now, that's done. . ."

She didn't want it to be done--did this mean that this sanctuary she'd been occupying would no longer be available for her? (The sanctuary being any place in which he was also.) Severus was too proud to admit of any feelings, and too proud to admit that he wanted to continue to spend time with her.

"Now we have to begin the potion," he remarked simply, but looked at her with a complicated smile.

"We?" she forced out.

"Yes, we. Didn't I tell you at the beginning you were involved now? And that you were going to assist me in the brewing of the potion?" Severus told her, slipping the envelope into some incognito pocket. He held out his hand to her--she accepted, and was greeted by an impetus of emotion that sizzled throughout her body for only moments--he stared at her, mesmerized, and she felt uncomfortable. Hermione tried to smile at him, but what came out was nothing more than what felt like a half-attempted grimace. He gracefully pulled her to her feet, and she wanted more than anything for him to just reveal the way he felt--she certainly wasn't going to. That was the man's job, Hermione was certain.

"Yes," Hermione conceded, and then began to go downstairs--having enough sense and tact to know not to ask about this room. When she didn't hear footsteps following her, she turned to see Severus looking at the other trunk--and turned as he bent to pick it up... A vulnerable moment she felt he would not have liked her to witness. "Where are we going?"

"Back to Hog---where are we going?" He sounded confused.

The incident with Alex came back in an inundation so weak that she scarcely remembered the fear she'd felt--In fact, her cheeks burned at the memory of how dependent she'd been on Severus for solace--why, that was the very thing she'd criticized many women for doing. Well she would make amends.

"Oh... that," she said in a nonchalant tone. "Don't worry about that... I'm okay now. We can go back to Hogwarts. I'm okay, really."

"Oh, I believe you," Severus said sarcastically, indicating that he most definitely did not. "That silly little break-down earlier was just negligible in comparison to your maintenance of your pride and dignity."

Hermione gawked at him, but before she could say a word he broke in again with a retort that hurt her feelings deeply--"Don't do that Miss Granger, it's highly unattractive."

She wore her emotions on her face apparently, as Severus attained a remorseful countenance--Ron also told her she didn't have a poker face. Hermione glared in defense of protecting her extirpated senses of self-confident and esteem--she wasn't going to let him see how much power he had over her. "Sorry, professor," she said instead, applying a touch of hostility to her voice. Hermione walked down the hall a bit--noticing smugly that his footsteps faltered.

Why were they being so cruel to each other? Why had he initiated this?

Severus answered Hermione's latter question in his mind (with no knowledge of course that she had asked that question--he was still ignorant of the fact that she found him as attractive as he found her)--Why am I doing this? He interrogated the deepest chambers of his person--and discovered the most obvious answer: Because you're afraid that this camaraderie will end now that this search has ended. You're afraid that you'll go back to Hogwarts and the two of you will behave as you once did--you scaring her, and her loathing you. So you're putting your wall up now. And the mention of Alex had pierced him in an open wound.

He reached out to stop her movements by touching her shoulder--she faced him, and he saw pain in her eyes--"Forget that," he muttered, wondering how she'd reduced him to such a state. It was the intenseness of the day--it was affecting both of them, distorting their perspectives, marring their ability to rationalize. "Stay here tonight," he said in an apathetic tone--or as apathetic as he could muster as this point- it seemed to him it sounded like a bit of a plea. "Even if it was just nothing, or just an overreaction or any other excuse your mind can think up, I would feel ceaselessly careless and irresponsible if I let you return to your quarters in Hogwarts tonight--if that bastard were to do something to you..."

Severus saw relief in her eyes, and he felt complacent.

"Are you hungry," he asked tactfully as he led her away from the stealthy West Wing. Knowing the answer beforehand, he continued--"What would you like to eat?"

"What time is it?" Hermione asked, looking around for a clock or some indication of the hour of day. Her eyes landed on a piece of furniture that had been blasted thoroughly in his highly destructive rant so many years ago, and he could see something inside of her--he could see her mind calculating... but decided to ignore that for the moment and answer her question.

"It appears to be four o'clock... Considering neither of us has had lunch, a nice time for dinner," Severus commented, and stopped as she whirled around to look at him: eyes enthused, yet shrewd.

"You should cook."

"Why would you assume I can?"

"Well... I think ... expect that a Potions Master who is adept at reading recipes and instructions requiring time managements and a watchful eye would be just as adroit at culinary processes. Have you ever tried to cook?" she asked him, her naivety clearly shown now though he couldn't deduct why.

"Perhaps... but as there is no food here...in Snape Manor, as there is no food..." he stumbled over his words, his eyes too busy impressing this image of Hermione for later admiration for him to do much else, least of all verbalize. "I can't cook," he concluded firmly.

"Well... what were you thinking we'd be eating then, as there is no food here, as you pointed out so eloquently?" Hermione teased him, her smile conveying the lightness behind the jeer.

"I don't know, exactly," he said, pushing her faintly in the direction of the grand staircase. He didn't enjoy being up here in the living quarters of his house--though what he'd done at Snape Manor could hardly be called living. Though what he'd been doing his whole life could hardly be called living. Severus decided to formally introduce Hermione to the house, as she would be ... spending the night.

"This is the dining room..." Severus nodded at the table that awaited them at the foot of the staircase.

"How thoughtful of you to point that out to me," Hermione replied, quickly.

"Quality retort," Severus said, approving. He continued to walk through the door that led into one of numerous hallways--he decided to leave the library for last, and entered through the French doors directly ahead of him into the Ballroom. "Ballroom," he echoed his thoughts.

The Ballroom was a room Severus had remembered being filled with multifarious people when he was a young lad--Momma was one for socializing, he recalled, and she had thrown a few parties a year. It was a well designed room--half of it full of impractical, yet attractive marble tables and the other half with wooden floor to get the lovely acoustic sound that reverberated when a dance was being done in synchronicity. There was also a little pit for the string quartet that Momma hired. He glared at the room, recollecting all the times he'd been excluded--the work of Joseph Snape. Severus led Hermione out, after watching her examine the tables that he hadn't touched--Momma had simply cherished them.

He showed her the women's lounge and the men's lounge, and she'd scoffed at the indignity of it all--segregation was something she disapproved of wholly. The formal dining room containing a long table with the ability to seat thirty-six people comfortable, and forty-six if elbow-bumping was to be permitted. The entertaining room, which was placed appropriately as the first room after the hall in front of the main entrance. Severus brought her back into the Servant's quarters and the kitchen, anticipating more negative reactions--he wasn't disappointed. Into the study next, which meant venturing all the way back to the east end of the first floor.

Then into the library--where Hermione gasped, but not because of the quantity of books, but because of the extremely poor condition of the library as a whole. The room had never had any carpeting--that would have been quite tasteless and convoying, but it now had a layer of books to atone for the fact. She crouched down to examine several pages that had flown out of various books during the highly regrettable incident in which he'd too much Voldemort in him. Severus was disgusted and appalled himself--how could he have ruined such a wonderful collection of books? And how could be so gauche as to show what remained of this once competent library?

"I... you've let this sit for so long?" Hermione asked indignantly. "I can't believe that you would be so cruel to something so... so..." Her hands flew up in the air and made bewildered circles. "How can you find the word that embodies the meaning of a library?"

He stood in a respectable silence--for the books and for her, and she continued--"Forget food! We have to clean this up..."

And she started picking up books--and Severus knew he had a long and tedious task before him. Splendid.