Survivors

CHAPTER 12

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

When Hermione walked in to the Great Hall the next morning, she looked immediately at the staff table and found Severus sitting at his usual place. He gave no sign that he had seen her, in fact did not even look up from his plate. She'd thought he would play it that way. But she was at least glad that he had showed up. And she was prepared.

She walked purposefully up to the table, greeted the other instructors who were present as she passed them, gave Remus an extra squeeze on the shoulder, and then sat down, not in her usual seat beside Remus, but a few places farther down. Next to Severus. She glanced at Remus to make sure he wasn't offended. He nodded in understanding and gave her a small, but encouraging smile. Satisfied, Hermione pulled her chair up to the table and said, pleasantly, "Good morning, Severus."

"Mnghm," he grunted, keeping his eyes fixed on his eggs Benedict.

I knew I should have had breakfast sent down again. Coming here was just asking for something like this to happen. Now I suppose she will want to engage in chit-chat.

Hermione helped herself to toast and eggs, propped up the Journal of Magical Inquiry she had brought with her so that she could read it while she ate, and proceeded to ignore him.

Ah, perhaps it is an apology she's after. Well she can sit there until she turns blue in the face, she won't get one.

Hermione silently ate her meal, looking at the article in front of her. It was entitled "The Dual Strain Theory and Intent". She couldn't really concentrate on reading it, though, because she was too distracted by Severus' physical presence. They weren't sitting close together as they had at the Leaky Cauldron; such proximity wasn't even possible with the big throne-like arm chairs which the professors sat in. But she was still aware of practically every breath he took. He had stopped eating now, letting his fork rest between his fingers (those long, pale fingers with blackened nails) and his plate. He leaned forward a fraction of an inch, his forearms now resting on the edge of the table. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to be reading over her shoulder!

She hurriedly re-fixed her gaze on the article. "...simple charms such as those in the Leviosate group also require intent, while such clearly devastating spells as the Sempras can wreak considerable damage even when used incautiously..." She finished up slowly, sopping up the egg with her toast, picking the crumbs off the table and dropping them carefully onto her plate. When she couldn't draw her breakfast out any longer, she pushed her chair back. "You can borrow it if you like," she remarked to Severus, and moved the journal over to stand before his plate.

He started to protest, "Oh, no, I wasn't--"

"Just drop it on my desk or something when you're done," she said, and without waiting for an answer, left.

Snape scowled and looked around to see if anyone were watching them, but there were only three students sitting at the Ravenclaw table engrossed in a game of Exploding Snap, Professor Vector, and Professor Sprout left in the room, the others having already finished and left.

Now what is she up to? I swear, she is more puzzling than De Prue's Third Conundrum. And the most beautiful-- Oh, now stop it! She's not beautiful at all! Her hair is a disaster and her forehead is too broad and she wears glasses when she reads and her mouth is too big... All right, yes, I admit I do find her attractive. Now what was that about the Sempras...?

xOxOxOx

Hermione was on her way to the Burrow. She meant to pump Arthur for information on the trial; he had been there merely as an observer, so he would surely be able to tell her more than Minerva had been willing to divulge. She also wanted to see Ron again; his mother had guilted him into staying there through Christmas, and it wasn't often that one could pin Ron down to stay in one place.

They were expecting her, so she flooed into their kitchen.

"Hermione!" Molly exclaimed, trotting over from the sink where she had been blow-drying the dishes with hot air from her wand. "Come over here, you've just got some soot in your hair, there you are, dear. How are you? Are you getting enough to eat at the school? Look at you, you've turned into a lovely young woman--"

"Mother, it's only been three days since you saw her," Ginny remarked drily from where she was sitting at the kitchen table, supervising a bushel of apples that were peeling themselves.

"Yes, I know, but we didn't really get a chance to talk, did we, dear?" She beamed proprietarily at Hermione. Hermione knew that Molly had been adamantly against her and Ron's break-up, and was still hopeful that the two of them would end up together.

Hermione smiled back. Maybe she could get some information out of Molly as well. "No, we didn't," she agreed, and added more soberly, "I'm awfully sorry I left so abruptly."

"It was very upsetting," Molly tutted sympathetically. "It was just awful, Hagrid bringing up... well, you know." She patted Hermione on the arm and led her to the table.

Ginny snorted. "He only said what everyone else was thinking. Snape's a murderous traitor, and it was about time someone said it to his face. I don't get why you left right after him, though." She frowned and looked at Hermione.

Molly glared at her daughter, then turned to their visitor with a kindly look. "Don't mind her, Hermione, dear. I understand completely. But let's not dwell on such unpleasant subjects." She pushed open the kitchen door and leaned out. "Ron! Hermione's here to see you!" She beamed at Hermione again. "He's been so looking forward to seeing you again."

"Mother, Ron and Hermione have been broken up for over three years," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Molly gave her another withering glare, then smiled sweetly at Hermione. "So, 'Professor'," she said, winking, "how do things look from the other side of the desk?"

"I actually have a lot more respect now for my professors," Hermione honestly admitted. "I actually defended Severus when he placed half of the fourth-years in detention for a week."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at her mother as if to say, 'See? What did I tell you?', but didn't say anything, just twirled her wand to make an apple peel spiral off.

"Oh?" Molly said, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that Hermione had brought up Professor Snape right away again.

"And I used to think it was a lot of work to write three feet on a subject, but just imagine how much more work it is to read twenty such essays! All full of so many mistakes you get a headache from the grammar alone!"

"Then why assign them?" Ginny asked smartly.

"Because it's the best way to prepare for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Especially in History of Magic, where there's no practical part to the exams. You've got to know the facts, but you've also got to be able to write a decent essay."

"Hermione!" Ron burst into the room, all six feet two of him, and smothered Hermione in a hug where she sat at the table.

"Ergh, it's good to see you again, too, Ron," Hermione said into his shoulder.

"So what brings you to the Burrow?" Ron asked, releasing Hermione and pulling up a chair.

"Oh, you know, seeing you all the other night made me realize how long it's been," she said vaguely. "I thought I really should stop in and see you again."

Molly raised her eyebrows at Ginny, giving her her own 'see what did I tell you' look.

"There is actually something I wanted to discuss with Arthur, too," she admitted. "Is he around?"

"He's at the office today, but he'll be getting off early as it's Christmas Eve. Should be home shortly after four," Molly informed her. "But now you have me curious. What is it about?"

Hermione had the feeling it would be better not to mention Severus for the third time in five minutes, so she said only, "Oh, just something I though he might remember from a few years ago. Do you think I can come back later on?"

Molly frowned. "Of course, but don't tell me you're leaving right away again. You've only just gotten here. Surely you'll stay for lunch, at least?"

"I had wanted to go into London today, do some last-minute Christmas shopping," she said tentatively, looking at Ron.

"Perfect!" he exclaimed, taking the cue. "I need to go in to the store today anyway and lend a hand. We can Floo in together, then you can go do your shopping and we can meet up somewhere for lunch. Sound good?"

"Brilliant," Hermione said, relieved. What she wanted to discuss with Ron was definitely something that needed to be done as far away from the Burrow as possible.

...xOxOxOx...

After checking out Ron's Rarities and Rummage, where she bought a 'Toujours Blanc' French lace tablerunner for her mother (guaranteed never to yellow) and an antique model car for her father's collection (it would obey voice commands), she went into Muggle London, where she headed straight for the Godiva chocolate shop in Covent Garden. They had a particularly divine gift box of assorted truffles, and she bought one for each staff member. Then it was back to Diagon Alley to send her purchases back to Hogwarts by express owl, and she just barely had time to nip into Spick and Spark to select a present for Ron before she had to get to the restaurant where they had agreed to meet for lunch.

"So, you able to get everything?" Ron inquired, once they had been seated.

"Not quite; I'd like to go to Waterstone's this afternoon," she said, referring to the grand bookstore.

"Books again." Ron grinned.

"I've always done well by books," Hermione said. "Oh, and this is for you." She produced a large box wrapped in silver and red foil. "Happy Christmas!"

"Hermione, you shouldn't have," Ron gulped. "I mean-- I didn't--"

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Hermione said, realizing that he hadn't gotten anything for her. "It's just something you might find useful."

Ron unpacked the box to reveal something that looked like a cross between a food processor and a toaster oven. It was labeled 'Kwik Kitchen Kit'. Ron looked like he didn't know what to say, which he probably didn't.

"It'll cook twenty-three simple meals for you. All you have to do is put in the ingredients," Hermione explained happily. "I know you don't like to cook, so this way you don't have to go out to eat all the time."

"Oh. Thanks, Hermione," Ron said, putting the appliance down under the table. "You were always thoughtful like that."

"You're welcome. So how's business?"

"Haven't a clue, to be honest." He shrugged with a genial grin. "You know I was never very good with books and numbers and things. Fred and George recommended their accountant, but I'm not so sure I like the way he juggles the books. Literally. He's got this trick where he'll take all the accounts books and make them fly around to spell out 'fog', but somehow I think he's always one short when they come back down. And he can't bloody spell to save his life; it always comes out 'fug'.

"Ron, he probably does mean fug. That's the Latin root meaning to run away. You're probably right about him making books disappear."

"Oh yeah? Funny, I always thought he was referring to the weather."

Hermione smiled. Good old Ron. They ordered their food and chatted some more about Ron's recent travels and some of the current seventh-year students who had been first years at Hogwarts during Ron and Hermione's last year there. From there the conversation moved easily to their former professors, and it seemed that Ron had just been waiting for an opening to ask, "So what's up with you and Snape anyway? Lupin said you had taken him on as some sort of charity project. I didn't want to say anything right there in front of him, but are you bloody out of your mind?" Ron's voice escalated in pitch and volume such that diners at nearby tables looked in their direction and frowned.

"I know what everyone thinks about him. You all made that perfectly clear at the reunion, which by the way I thought was simply disgraceful. The way everyone was so rude, and especially that no one stood up for him when Hagrid got up. Not that I blame Hagrid," she sighed. "Poor man." She picked up a forkful of lasagne and put it into her mouth.

"Hello, earth to Hermione!" Ron goggled. "Weren't you there? Didn't you hear how he insulted Bill and Lupin first? And what Hagrid said was true! He did kill Dumbledore! I don't care what the Wizengamot says, Harry told us what really happened, or don't you believe that anymore?"

She swallowed. "I do, but it's not like you think."

"Oh, and I suppose you know how it really is. What, did Snape tell you something like he thought Dumbledore was really a Polyjuiced Death Eater?"

"No," Hermione answered calmly. "He was supposed to kill Dumbledore."

"Duh, on You-Know-Who's orders!"

"No, silly. On Dumbledore's orders." Hermione felt very smug at that moment.

"Excuse me?"

"Dumbledore made Severus agree to kill him. He was about to die anyway. Remember how his hand was all withered and black during our sixth year? Well, it was from a curse he'd incurred when he destroyed the Horcrux in the Gaunt ring. Impossible to heal. And not only that, it was creeping up his arm. It would've destroyed all the tissue in his entire body eventually. And," Hermione sighed, "he was just old. He was a hundred and fifty-three years old. Even for a wizard, he was pushing the limits of longevity. His body was tired, he was tired, and he knew that if Severus killed him, that would give him a tremendous boost in Voldemort's eyes. It would guarantee that Voldemort never questioned his loyalty again. Or at least long enough for Harry to get the rest of the Horcruxes and for Severus, hopefully, to betray him to Harry. Which is what happened." She took a sip of her drink, feeling quite superior.

Ron looked irritated at Hermione calling Snape by his first name, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. "So you're telling me that Dumbledore sacrificed himself for the cause."

Hermione looked him straight in the eye. "Yes."

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

"Yes," Hermione agreed solemnly.

Ron thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. Finally, he said, "It could have gone terribly wrong, though. Suppose that Harry never would have found the Horcruxes."

"He had me." Hermione sat up a little straighter, as if affronted that Ron would question the efficacy of her research.

"Suppose that he would have given up the whole thing as a lost cause. He nearly did when the Death Eaters were able to retrieve Hufflepuff's cup before we did."

"You didn't let him, did you."

Ron's ears went red. "Yeah, well, suppose that Snape had turned out to be evil after all and helped Voldemort against Harry?" Ron looked triumphantly at Hermione, certain that he had found the weak point in her argument.

"Dumbledore trusted Severus. And so do I."

"Damn, Hermione, would you stop calling him that? It's bloody annoying!"

Hermione looked down at the remains of her lasagne. She wanted desperately to be able to talk to Ron about her and Severus...not that there really was a her and Severus, it was more like a her thinking of Severus in ways that would probably cause Ron to have a conniption fit. But it was important to her that Ron understand, and also that he not feel like he was the last to know if something really did develop between the two of them. She felt she owed that to him. "He's really not that bad," she said quietly.

"Not that bad? What is your definition of bad?"

"He's been hurt, Ron," she said earnestly. "Most of what he says is just him pushing people away before they can hurt him more."

"And that's not bad?" Ron snorted.

She sighed. "I just hoped that if he saw that not everyone hated him, that he'd make more of an effort himself, which would make more people react to him positively...or, at least not negatively."

"And we can see how well that's worked," Ron sneered.

"It has had an effect," Hermione said tentatively, still not looking at Ron.

"What effect?"

Hermione swallowed. "I...think I like him, Ron." She raised her eyes a little to see what Ron's reaction was.

"You mean, you think he has some likeable quality," Ron tried to qualify her statement, giving her a hard look.

"Yes. And...something else."

"Hermione, what are you telling me." Ron's voice had a threatening undertone.

"Now, don't get all fussed, it's not like there's anything going on, we only kissed once--"

"You kissed Snape?!" Ron yelped, setting the dishes on their table a-clattering.

She tried to placate him, casting nervous glances at the other customers, who again were looking at them somewhat askance. "I told you, there's nothing going on."

"You call kissing him nothing going on? What are we talking here, a peck on the cheek?"

Hermione blushed and looked down.

"More?" he screeched. "Were tongues involved? No. Scratch that. I don't want to know. I do not want to know." He leaned across the table toward her, speaking in a low, urgent voice. "Merlin, Hermione! What are you thinking? Snape!"

"I wanted you to know, Ron, I felt I kind of owed it to you. I mean, I do still think of you as my best friend."

"And so, what, you want my blessing or something? Cripes, that's stretching the bounds of even our friendship."

"You don't mean that, do you?" She looked troubled.

Ron ran a hand through his shaggy red hair and exhaled loudly. "I suppose not," he sighed. "Is he good to you, at least?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer that. Technically, he hadn't been. "We're working on it," she said evasively.

"Does everyone know? Lupin, the other teachers?"

Hermione shook her head. "Like I said, there's really nothing going on. We've mostly been avoiding each other."

"That sounds promising," Ron muttered drily.

"Oh Ron, I'd really like it if I could count on you, for someone to talk to, if I need it."

"Only spare me the gory details, all right?"

"Yes, thanks, Ron," Hermione said gratefully.

"Oh, and Hermione? I don't think you should be mentioning any of this back at the Burrow. Mum'll have a heart attack and Ginny'll probably haul you right off to the St. Mungo's."

...xOxOxOx...

"Well, Hermione, it's nice to see you again so soon." Arthur settled back in his armchair. Molly had guaranteed them exactly fifteen minutes of non-interruption before she served dinner. "I was sorry you had to leave so quickly the other night. I understand, though, it must have been upsetting to be reminded of Harry and all." He busied himself with adjusting the buttons on his cardigan.

"I also went to support Severus," she said. "It's so unfair how everyone is still treating him."

"He doesn't make it any easier, you know," he sighed.

Hermione shook her head. "That's not the point. I mean, the Wizengamot did rule that he was innocent. How can people still go around believing that he killed Dumbledore on Voldemort's orders? Didn't it ever come out that Dumbledore was the one who had him do it?"

Arthur looked surprised. "How did you know about that?"

"I had a little chat with Dumbledore's portrait."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm sure you can appreciate that a portrait cannot be called to testify in a criminal hearing. And the only other person who knew of that agreement was Severus himself, and he refused to testify in his behalf."

"He did? Why?"

Arthur shrugged. "Only he can answer that. I would venture to guess that he was feeling so miserable about having done it that he didn't care what happened to him at that point. We also only found out about it from the portrait after the trial."

Hermione's heart went out to Snape on hearing that. It must have been so lonely, knowing that he had done such a terrible thing, even with the extenuating circumstances. "So why wasn't he convicted then? If he really did kill Dumbledore, and no evidence was brought which might have lessened the blame?"

"I didn't say that." Arthur looked at Hermione sharply. "He was most definitely cleared of the charge of having used an Unforgivable Curse, which would have carried a mandatory term in Azkaban. As it was, he was actually convicted of the lesser charge of culpability in a death, and it was decided that the time he had already spent on remand constituted a just punishment."

"But I don't understand," Hermione said, frowning. "He did perform the Killing Curse. Harry told us."

"Of course, Harry couldn't testify at the trial anymore," it seemed to pain Arthur to point out, "but the surviving Death Eaters who witnessed the incident were more than happy to tell their stories of Snape aiming his wand at Dumbledore and uttering the incantation, and they all agreed that the telltale green beam did strike Dumbledore directly in the chest."

Hermone seized on an idea. "Were they testifying under Veritaserum? It seems likely that they would have lied in order to get back at Severus for betraying their Lord."

"I'm sure they were questioned under Veritaserum at some point, although whether it was used during the trial, I cannot say. I'm only telling you what I remember seeing and hearing as a spectator. But I believe that what they told was true, since Malfoy corroborated the story."

Draco Malfoy had defected from the ranks of the Death Eaters following his botched assassination attempt. He had been so fearful of Voldemort's wrath that he had begged, and received, protection from Harry himself. Malfoy certainly wouldn't have lied to put Snape in prison. He had always admired Snape and had in a certain way taken the same life path. Hermione wondered if a similar incident at some point in the past had been what caused Dumbledore to put such faith in Snape's loyalty. She, for one, knew that she could trust Draco with her life. She had.

"So how could the Wizengamot have come to the conclusion that Severus didn't perform the Killing Curse?" This was the one point which just didn't make sense to Hermione. The rest of it was falling into place, but how could he not have performed the Avada Kedavra if he had clearly performed the Avada Kedavra?

Arthur shrugged. "I wasn't privy to their deliberations. It was a bit of a sensation that day when the judgment was passed down. Maybe Minerva can fill you in."

"I already tried asking her," Hermione said with a pout. "She's hiding behind some oath of nondisclosure."

"Then I don't know what else to tell you. It is puzzling, but in the end unimportant. Now, how about we go in to dinner? The smell of that glazed ham is driving me batty!"

...xOxOxOx...

Christmas morning. Hermione awoke to the fleeting memory of a delicious, if naughty, dream. Severus had been in it, and her body was still tingling over it, but she couldn't recall any of the details. Gone. She sighed happily and sat up, now eager to see what presents had been left for her by the house-elves. There was a small pile at the foot of her bed, and she grinned in delight. She had been able to hand her own presents of chocolates and a couple of extras for Remus and Hagrid to the house-elves after her late return from the Burrow the previous night, so that they could be distributed to their recipients as well. For Severus, she had ordered a subscription to JMI, which he would be informed of at breakfast by owl post. She wouldn't be there, however, as her parents were expecting her for brunch at nine, and they would exchange their presents then, too, as was their family tradition.

Now, however, she set about unwrapping the gifts from her wizarding friends and colleagues. There was a pink Everfragrant blossom in a tiny pot from Professor Sprout; a tin of Kringle's gingerbread from Professor Flitwick; a fifth of scotch from Professor McGonagall; two tickets to a football match in which her boyfriend's team was playing from Angelina; a book from Ron (he must have rushed out and bought it yesterday afternoon); and a picture frame from Molly with the note 'so you don't lose sight of your loved ones'. Hermione could easily figure out whose picture Molly hoped she would put in there; it would probably end up being one of her parents, though.

...xOxOxOx...

What am I going to do with an Everfragrant? Does Pomona really think I am about to place a pink flower in a prominent position on my desk? These Kringles are rather nice, however. An assortment of teas from Minerva, and...chocolates. From Hermione. I hope that this isn't some sort of sign of affection from her. I will have to find out whether she gave them to everyone on the staff. I wonder why she didn't come to lunch and dinner yesterday. Probably making some childish point because I didn't talk to her at breakfast. Well it's too bloody bad if she doesn't like it. That's the way it has to be. I can't entertain the possibility of 'more'. It would be too difficult, too intrusive. I suppose I cannot hope that she won't show up for breakfast again this morning, however. It is Christmas Day, after all. And for the sake of representing Slytherin House, I shall have to show up as well. Perhaps I can position myself between Arcanum and Vector, so that she can't sit next to me. Bloody meddling woman! Why can't she just leave me alone!

Snape arrived in the Great Hall ten minutes after breakfast had begun, hoping that all the other staff members (well, Hermione in particular) would have already taken their seats, allowing him to arrange himself as far away from potential embarrassment as possible. However, when he got there, he saw that Hermione had not yet arrived. Fortuitously, however, there was a single seat available between Professor Sprout and Professor Vector, which he silently slid into, ignoring both the startled looks the two witches gave him and the Yuletide salutations offered by the other teachers.

Not thirty seconds after he had sat down, an owl flapped in through the high mullioned windows and dropped a card into his coffee. He snapped it up with a scowl and hastily turned it over.

To Prof. S. Snape:

A year's subscription to the Journal of Magical Inquiry has been reserved in your name by Prof. H. Granger. Please allow up to six weeks for the first issue to arrive.

Best wishes,

U. Dinglethorne

Subscriptions Manager

He glanced right and left to ascertain whether either of his neighbors were trying to poke their noses into his mail, but Professor Sprout was chatting with Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Vector was mopping up coffee from where she had spilt it down the front of her robe.

Chocolates and a gift subscription. It seems she is trying to ingratiate herself into my life. Enough is enough. I shall have to put a stop to this once and for all. It will make for an unpleasant scene, but that cannot be avoided.

This time, every time the door opened, it was Snape who glanced up, as stealthily as possible, to see whether it was Hermione entering. It never was, and it wasn't until Professor Sprout, a notoriously slow eater, pushed her chair back and bid Snape a Happy Christmas on her way out, that he realized he had actually sat there for a solid hour, worrying his stomach on the way to an ulcer, for something that wasn't going to happen. Hermione had not come down to breakfast. He didn't know what annoyed him more: that, or the fact that he had wasted so much time dreading her appearance. For, certainly, it had been dread that he had been feeling. Not anticipation. Certainly not. He left the cold remains of his coffee in his cup and stalked back down to his lair.

...xOxOxOx...

It did not escape Severus' notice that Hermione did not show up for lunch, either. Once again safely ensconced between the Herbologist and the Arithmatician, he nevertheless was growing increasingly piqued by her continued absence. He recalled what Lupin had said about her worrying that he, Snape, was ill, and now wondered himself whether she was ill. If so, surely Lupin was taking care of it. Snape leaned forward just enough to catch a glimpse of the Defense instructor, who was smiling and chatting with the Headmistress. Neither of them appeared to be in the least concerned by the fact that Hermione wasn't there.

He sat back in his chair and scowled. Not only was she able to ruin a meal by her presence, but she could do it by her absence as well. And this was a particularly delectable spread.

Pomona actually made a stab at small talk, perhaps encouraged by the fact that he had chosen to sit beside her for two meals in a row, but he merely grunted in answer and generally refused to hold up his end of the conversation, and she quickly retreated. He did wonder about the presents, though. Finally, steeling himself, he turned to her.

"Pomona," he said stiffly, feeling like an utter fool, "I forgot to thank you for the...plant."

"Oh!" she started, completely taken aback that he had actually initiated a conversation with her. "Why-- You're welcome, Severus. I gave one to every member of the staff. Just a little something to brighten up these winter days. The Everfragrant, you know--"

"Yes, a remarkable species," he interrupted her, recognizing the telltale signs of runaway chatter in the offing. "Filius's Kringles are certainly a perennial favorite, wouldn't you say?" He politely awaited her reply.

Somewhere, one of my ancestors is turning in his grave at this flagrant display.

Pomona blinked twice. No, three times. The shock of Severus Snape asking for someone else's opinion sat deep. "Oh yes," she said upon recovering, "just the thing for a little nosh. And I think I could get used to Miss Granger's-- I mean, Hermione's, I just can't seem to get used to her being a professor-- her chocolates. Muggle, I believe, but just heavenly."

So the chocolates were for everyone. The subscription, too?

He found himself actually feeling disappointment that Hermione hadn't singled him out for anything special, and that made him even more annoyed. "I suppose, if one has a taste for such confections. Anything else?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Anything else," he hissed impatiently, now too cross to bother with subtlety. "What else did you get?"

Pomona looked at him with round eyes, clearly at a loss as to what to make of the fact that the Potions Master was acting like a six-year-old child, demanding to know what she had gotten for Christmas. However, she obediently recited, "A bottle of scotch from Minerva, tickets to a football match from Angelina, a hat from Diane--" Here she nodded at the Care of Magical Creatures instructor on her left, who was also listening in. "--and...and a book from Remus." She stared at Severus in a defensive manner. "That's all."

Snape narrowed her eyes at her. Was she really not forgetting a second gift from Hermione? He didn't want to come right out and ask, as that would have drawn too much attention to the point of his inquiry, so he let it go at that. That probably was all. It would have been a bit too much for Hermione to distribute chocolates and subscriptions to all the professors. The subscription must have been for him alone, based on his evinced interest in the article the previous day. Well, that was all right then, he thought grudgingly. A subscription to a serious journal could be considered thoughtful, but not significant. But that still didn't answer the question of her whereabouts. Remembering the issue which she had loaned to him, he decided to return it to her this afternoon. Not as an excuse to check on her, of course. Simply as a matter of courtesy. And to remove from his presence any and all reminders of her.

...xOxOxOx...

Snape stalked up the stairs of Gryffindor Tower, with every step gaining a firmer conviction that he should turn around on the spot and retreat as quickly as possible.

What in the world am I doing here? I'm starting to act just like her, seeking her out in her quarters on flimsy pretenses...Oh ho! That must be just what she is hoping for! She is staying away in order to lure me up here. Oh no you don't, Miss Granger!

He hurriedly turned heel to go back to the staircase when he heard a male voice call, "Severus! What brings you to our corner of the castle?"

Lupin! He's probably in cahoots with her, been lurking around just in order to catch me out and make fun of me.

"None of your business, Lupin," Snape spat over his shoulder, already at the top of the steps.

"If you were looking for Hermione, she's not here," Lupin called after him.

Snape stopped. He snapped his head around in Remus' direction. "I was just going to return this periodical to her, if you must know," he said coldly.

Remus closed the distance between them, his hands in his pockets. "Is that the one with her article on the Goblin Laws?"

Snape frowned and looked at the magazine in his hand. "She's been published in here?"

"Oh yes," Lupin replied matter-of-factly. "Several times. And not just in there." He stood next to Snape now and leaned over to look at the cover. "No, that's the most recent issue. She hasn't got anything in that one. Interesting article on the Dual Strain Theory, though. Did you read it?"

"Yes, I--" Damn, he almost tricked me into a conversation. "That doesn't matter," he muttered. "Here." He thrust the magazine at Lupin. "You can give it to her when she returns." Where is she, anyway? I'll be damned if I'm going to ask.

Lupin kept his hands in his pockets. "Oh, no, I'm sure she'd prefer it if you returned it to her in person." He managed to make the suggestion sound perfectly innocent. "She should be back before dinner. Just went to her parents' for the day."

"Hrmgph," Snape grunted. Parents. Hermione had parents. Parents that she actually visited on holidays. Some people's lives were apparently still intact.

"I'll be sure to mention that you were looking for her, though," Lupin said cheerfully.

Snape gave him the darkest look he could muster, turned his back, and descended the stairs with as much spite in his step as he could.

He was just crossing the Entrance Hall when the main doors swung open, letting in a swell of cold air and a well-bundled witch. She threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing a tangle of brown hair. Sudden indecision gripped him. Continue toward the dungeons? Give the journal back now? He who hesitates loses his initiative, however, and as soon as Hermione's eyes lighted on him, she smiled. Not in an overexcited manner, but warmly. With perhaps a little shyness. Or was it nervousness?

"Severus, how nice to see you. Have you had a happy Christmas?" She walked toward him, shaking out her cloak and hanging it over her arm.

"It has been similar to every other Christmas," he stated stiffly. That was in fact a broadly true statement.

"That's nice. I'm just back from my parents'." She ran a hand over her hair, pulling it back from her face. "Hoods always put it in a rat's nest," she said ruefully, then silently berated herself for talking about her hair to him.

"Mm," he said noncommittally, running his eye over the mop on her head, which did look more tangled than usual.

"Oh, I see you've still got the journal." She pointed at the periodical in his hand. "Enjoying it?"

"I was just going to return it to you." He held it out to her.

She took it with her free hand. "I'm uh...just on my way up to my room." Obviously, Hermione, she thought, rolling her eyes to herself. Brilliant. "Do you want to come up? Maybe you could tell me what you thought of that Dual Strain article."

"It was...interesting," he conceded.

"Do you have any particular opinion in the Single versus Dual Strain debate?" She seemed genuinely interested, not just making small talk.

"I...admit I tend to favour the Single Strain Theory."

"Really?" She took a step toward the stairs leading up to Gryffindor Tower. "Come on, tell me while we walk. I need to change out of these wet boots." She inclined her head invitingly toward the stairs.

Severus leaned his upper body barely perceptibly toward the stairs, but it was enough for Hermione to be certain of him. She started walking, talking over her shoulder. "I admit I'm tending toward the Single Strain Theory myself, but I'm no expert..." Without looking back, she listened for the sound of his boots on the flagstones following her.

Great Merlin, but she's getting good at manipulation. That was rather an elaborate plan, planting the journal before me yesterday, opened to an article she knew would grab my interest...(How did she know that?)...Then luring me upstairs like this.

"The Dual Strain Theory has its points, of course, but it just doesn't make sense to me that there would be two distinct strains of magical energy with measurably different physical properties," Hermione was saying as she marched upstairs. "I mean, wouldn't they require different wands then? Or different methods of tapping into altogether?"

Snape lengthened his stride to catch up to Hermione, then slowed down again, keeping one step beneath her. "A point which has been convincingly argued by DeVenefice."

"Oh, what was that in? I'm not really up on the issue, I just read whatever I happen to pick up."

"A lecture I attended a few years ago," he replied vaguely, taking clinical note of the curve of her bottom as it moved beneath her robes. "Perhaps he also published it somewhere, I must admit I also haven't had the time to keep abreast of the field." Or do much of anything but sit around feeling sorry for myself. Pathetic.

"What do you keep up on, then? Other than Potions, of course."

"This and that. So you have also published in that journal?"

Hermione paused, as much to catch her breath as anything. One would think that after all her years of running up and down these stairs, her cardiovascular system would have reaped some benefit. "A couple of things," she said modestly. "I think the last one was this summer. 'Revisiting the Goblin Laws of 1760'. I don't expect you'll have read it." She grinned impishly.

Snape had stopped on the step below her. He took note of the fact that their heads, or more specifically, their faces, or more specifically, their mouths, were now at very nearly the same level. He would just have to lean forward a little bit--

Hermione had also noticed that fact. Her heart started pounding, and not just because of the stairs. She studied the wedge of his face visible between the two sheaves of black hair curving down from his scalp. She'd never been this close to him before, not in good light anyway, and now she could see the two little lines between his eyebrows, engraved there by his continual scowl. Also the fine, faint whitish lines on his cheeks, possibly scar tissue, that gave his face a drawn appearance. She noticed him studying her, too, and suddenly felt very self-conscious. Added to the fact that her last attempt at kissing him had not ended very well, she decided that now was not the moment, and asked rather abruptly, "Have you published anything recently?" She turned quickly, feeling her cheeks burning, and continued up the stairs. "I'm sorry, but I don't really pay much attention to the world of Potions."

Well, now, she's darted away like a scared rabbit. It seems I have put her off me after all. Of course, that's what I wanted to do. So why does it feel like someone has snatched away my breath?

They had arrived at the entrance to Hermione's rooms, a simple bound oak door. She undid the wards and went in first, leaving the door open for Severus to follow her. "Have a seat wherever," she said lightly, "I'll be right there." She disappeared through another door, lighting the fire in the grate with a flick of her wand as she passed it.

Severus remaining standing near the door, which he closed, and looked around. The stone floor was covered with a woven blue-and-green rug with a vaguely floral design. The walls were all clean and dry, and the white cement between the stones was immaculate. A piece of modern magical artwork hung on one wall, flowing like a two-dimensional lava lamp. Before the fire stood a comfortable-looking yellow sofa, flanked on either side by matching armchairs that invited one to swing one's legs over the side and lean back with a good book. A desk before the single large window looking out over the Forbidden Forest supported neat stacks of papers and bundles of parchment. Several items of furniture were devoted to housing the small library that Hermione had accumulated. A square table was tucked against one wall, with a blue tablecloth over it and three chairs around it. The Everfragrant was set in the middle, the Kringle tin beside it with the lid half-way off.

Does Lupin spend time in here? Most certainly he does. Does he sit at the table? In one of the armchairs? Does he even have a favorite armchair? Or do he and Hermione sit together on the sofa with his arm around her the way they sit during Quidditch matches? Although they have both assured me that there is nothing between them, I do not like the memory or even the notion of his hands on her.

Snape's chest seemd to constrict as he came to an icy realization:

I do not like Lupin putting his hands on Hermione. Not just because it is revolting to me to see Lupin putting his paws on any female, but because I want to put my hands on her.

At that moment, Hermione returned, her hair pulled back in a loose bun and her feet ensconced in thick fuzzy black socks. She had removed her outer robes and was now wearing a periwinkle blue shift that hung loosely down to her ankles. A yellow cat with nearly as much hair as she slunk in behind her and eyed Snape with suspicion, then jumped up onto the nearest armchair and hunkered down to watch the proceedings.

"You can sit down, you know," Hermione said. "Can I get you some tea? I'm chilled through to the bone."

While she went to a cupboard and set about making tea, Snape sat down heavily on one of the chairs at the blue-decked table.

Of all the bloody nuisances. And? What is to be done?

Absently, he conjured himself a cup and his own preferred blend of black tea. He had just finished filling the cup with steaming water from his wand when Hermione set down a tray on the table.

"Oh," she said, a little flustered on noticing his cup. "You've got your own."

Snape started out of his reverie. "Yes," he agreed, realizing the social faux pas he had just committed but refusing to admit it. He did take a squeeze of lemon from her tray, though, now watching her with guardedly predatory eyes.

Hermione sat down on the chair opposite him. Going well so far, she thought, better than any other encounter they'd had thus far. Just keep it up, don't scare him off. Keep it light and friendly.

"You were telling me about some of your recent work?" she prompted, stirring sugar into her tea, the butterflies in her stomach being set aflutter by his penetrating stare.

"Was I?" He seemed preoccupied.

So if she is not trying to make anyone jealous, what is she up to?

Hermione lifted her cup to her mouth, hiding behind it for a moment. As the porcelain rim touched her lips, she recalled the feeling of his kisses there, the taste of his breath in her mouth. She swallowed. "Do you have any special projects that you're working on? Research?"

He briefly considered being evasive, then answered flatly, "No."

Leave it to her to dig out all of my weak points. Not that there is any lack of them.

Hermione blinked, feeling that she had embarrassed him yet again. "Oh. I just thought...you used to do a lot of experimentation. Invention."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did I?"

"Yes, well I just assumed...I don't know if you ever knew it, but Harry got your old Potions text in our sixth year."

"I do recall something of the sort."

"It was full of your notes, improvements on the recipes and procedures. Even some new spells."

"I dabbled."

"You were brilliant! I mean, I always thought Harry was cheating by using your notes--not that we knew they were from you, he probably wouldn't have used them if he'd known--" She stopped short, fearful that she was about to provoke an anti-Potter rant.

"No." Snape allowed himself a smile. "He probably wouldn't have."

She breathed a mental sigh of relief and continued, "So he kept trouncing everyone at Potions, even me."

"Imagine that," Snape said wryly.

Hermione allowed herself a quick smile back at him. "It did get up my nose."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You always wanted to be the best."

She was the best. Truly brilliant in her research and methods, both in her schoolwork and in tracing the Horcruxes. Such a waste that she chose to devote herself to a dead subject like History of Magic.

"And I always was," Hermione said cheekily, "until the half-blood Prince anyway."

Snape's face became momentarily hard again. "I haven't heard that term in...decades."

Has it been so long? And at the same time no longer than that?A world removed.

Hermione, caught up in her own role in the story, missed the subtle change in his demeanor. "I was the one who figured out it was you," she said proudly. "I found a picture of your mother in an old yearbook, and then your parents' wedding announcement in a back issue of the Daily Prophet."

"Ever resourceful." Instead of being complimentary, though, his voice had a bitter edge.

Now she noticed that something had displeased him. It must be something about his parents, she thought, or that he thinks me nosy for poking about in his past. "The point is," she continued hastily, getting back to her original argument, "you were obviously brilliant at Potions when you were in school. Well, you still are, otherwise you wouldn't be teaching here. So I just assumed, I mean...that you would have continued, making improvements on old methods, researching."

Snape sat back in his chair and ran his fingers around the rim of his cup. "I did. For a time. Then I got caught up in...events...other things took priority..."

Again, Hermione was eager to move him past the unpleasant memories, especially now that she was more certain than ever what at least some of those memories were. "And now? I mean, now you're-- you'd be free to dabble again, as you call it."

"Now...it's been too long. I am no longer the same man I was then."

There is no spark of creativity. No lust for knowledge. No desire to design new ways of inflicting physical pain. I've seen enough of that to last many a lifetime.

Hermione once again felt an overwhelming sadness, both for the man before her and for the potential that had been lost to the wizarding world.

They were both silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Hermione wanted desperately to say something positive, to comfort, but she held back, fearful of pushing too hard again. Then, abruptly, Snape cleared his throat and sat up straight. "Well. I should be getting back."

To what? Emptiness? Darkness? Brooding?

"Oh," Hermione said, trying not to show her disappointment. "All right. Thank you for coming up. I enjoyed talking with you."

He nodded curtly, evaporated his cup with a wave of his wand, and stood.

She followed suit. "Um...maybe we could do it again sometime? You know...just talk." She accompanied him to the door.

"Perhaps," he allowed.

She stood by him at the door and hesitated a moment. "Severus...?"

He looked at her then and saw her asking, hoping, searching for a sign.

'She's waiting for a sign,' Lupin said. It would be so easy to give in, both to her and to my own inclination, but it would be no more than an illusion, a momentary indulgence. My past has already ruined my future. I have destroyed enough. I don't need her misery adding to my own. Since when am I so scrupulous? What would be the difference between this and my transactions in Lurker's Lane? She said herself that she is an adult. She's been warned and would only have herself to blame. Because she would be hurt in the end. But she also said that she believes that I am an honorable man.

Hermione saw only Severus' frown. Was he annoyed at her for holding him up? Apprehensive that she might try to kiss him again? Although she wasn't about to throw herself at him, she also didn't want him to think that she had entirely given up. She reached out and took his hand gently. "Happy Christmas."

And then it was simple and natural. Hardly considering what he was doing, Severus leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek, the smooth curve of her skin soft beneath his lips. "Happy Christmas," he repeated in her ear. Then without looking at her, he opened the door and walked out.