Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Snape grabbed her just as the brilliant green flames whisked Hermione away. She screamed, but it was choked off immediately by a mouthful of soot. Her flinch, as his hand caught her shoulder, almost hurled them both out of the nearest grate rushing past. Instead she hit the wall.

Coughing, choking, her eyes watering and stinging, and knocked half senseless to boot, Hermione was still aware of when Snape shifted his hold on her, his arms wrapping around her, holding her arms to her sides.

Finally the nausea-inducing view of blurry grates rushing past ended. She tumbled out facedown onto the cold, tiled kitchen floor of Grimmauld Place. Snape was definitely still in tow, landing on top of her and knocking the breath out of her for the second time.

For a moment the warm length of his body was pressed against her even closer than it had been in the Floo. Then he scrambled off her, but not before she felt something stirring against her rear end.

'Interesting... No! Absolutely not. Think of Ron...'

A fresh bout of coughing interrupted her train of thought. Every breath she tried to take fuelled more hacking and wheezing – it was almost as if she was still in the Floo Network, where there was more soot than air.

Hermione was dimly aware of a hand touching her back, and then of a brief touch of something hard. The point of Snape's wand, she realised, as she stopped coughing. He'd done something to clear her airways. Now she was merely gasping for breath.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, grimacing. Soot left a foul taste in her mouth, coating her teeth and tongue. It also still stung her eyes. Moving also reminded her of how bruised and battered her body felt. She'd be black and blue for days... if not for magic, she mentally amended, drawing her wand to deal with her various aches and pains. And to clean the soot from her eyes, mouth and clothes, using Evanesco instead of Scourgify – she had no wish for a mouthful of bubbles to replace the soot.

Climbing to her feet, Hermione ignored the helping hand Snape offered. She hoped he'd had to heal bruises of his own. Bastard deserved them; he'd caused them by tagging along in the Floo. Stupid man. They'd been lucky to reach Grimmauld Place in one piece. Floo travel was meant to be individual for a reason!

"Miss Granger, I am sorry..."

"You're sorry?" she hissed. "Good. You should be, pulling a stunt like that."

"I did not intend to accompany you through the Floo," Snape said, his voice tightly controlled. "My apologies for that as well."

That he hadn't initially been apologising for the Floo fiasco reminded Hermione that there was something else to be angry with him about. And hurt. He didn't trust her.

"If I didn't trust you, I would not have made you my Secret Keeper."

"I suppose," Hermione conceded. "But you don't trust me unconditionally."

"Miss Granger..." Snape hesitantly took one of her hands in both of his. "Hermione," he continued, using her first name for the first time. A sign of trust, perhaps? "I have never trusted anyone unconditionally..."

'Except Lily,' Hermione added mentally, feeling a surge of resentment for Harry's dead mother. Snape had obviously been badly burned at some point, and even if Hermione didn't know the full story, she guessed it had something to do with his childhood love.

"...Now that the Dark Lord is dead, perhaps things can change, but is it reasonable to expect me to change the habits of a lifetime so soon?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment. Perhaps it was too much, too soon for him. All things considered, it was a wonder that he trusted her enough to make her his Secret Keeper.

She pulled her hand out of Snape's grip and walked over to the kitchen table. One of her Self-Inking quills was there, discarded on top of a draft of a Howler she'd been composing to Rita Skeeter before Snape had called. Hermione tore a blank scrap of parchment off that draft and picked up the quill. She wrote down the secret, careful to keep her handwriting legible.

Wordlessly, she offered him the parchment. He'd shown trust in her, now it was time for her to trust him. Specifically, to trust his choices in whom he socialised with. Her handwriting could be traced; it was on file at both Hogwarts and the Ministry, thanks to that Muggle-born Act.

Snape took it, his fingers brushing hers. She stifled a gasp at the contact; it somehow made her heart leap more than his grip had. He glanced at the parchment, before looking back up at her.

"Thank you," he murmured. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Hermione gaped, unable to believe her eyes. It took a few incredulous blinks until she comprehended what had happened. Harry had Apparated downstairs, landing right on top of the unfortunate Snape.

She dropped her head into her hands, only raising it when the urge to laugh passed. "Harry, this is exactly why I told you not to Apparate indoors!"

Harry straightened his glasses, frowning up at her. "Wha...? Oh!" He sprang to his feet. "I'm so sorry!" he blurted, helping Snape up. "Are you all right?"

Snape's reply was limited to a rather feeble glower. Hermione would have been worried if not for the fact that it was still powerful enough to make Harry avert his eyes. In doing so, Harry saw something; he bobbed down again, a scrap of parchment in his hands when he stood.

Parchment with her handwriting on it. The secret. Shit.

"Give that here!" Hermione yelped, snatching it out of Harry's hands. Snape reached for it as well, his reflexes still dulled by his encounter with the floor.

Hermione passed the strip of parchment to Snape, who pocketed it.

"Did you read it?" Snape demanded. "Potter! Answer me."

Harry had, judging by the guilty flush in his cheeks. "I...I won't tell anyone."

Snape sneered. "Idiot boy! That is not an issue."

"I know I can't tell anyone where you live! I meant that I won't tell anyone that Hermione's your Secret Keeper. I'm not stupid."

"Not that stupid, perhaps, Potter. Actions speak louder than words, and your actions are imbecilic at best."

Face contorting angrily at that insult, Harry opened his mouth. Before he could say anything he'd regret, Hermione intervened.

"What's done is done. Harry can be trusted, although I know you'd rather he didn't know."

Snape turned his attention to her, crossing his arms. "It is not just a question of trust. Potter's 'skills' as an Occlumens aren't worthy of the name." He shot Harry a contemptuous look.

"I've had Auror training since then! I've improved..."

"I'm not an Occlumens," Hermione reminded Snape. They both ignored Harry.

"Irrelevant. Such information cannot be extracted in that way from a Secret Keeper." He scowled at her. "Regardless of whether Potter can be trusted with your safety, I do not want him as a visitor."

"Obliviate me, then." Harry sounded like a kicked puppy.

"Tempting," Snape drawled. "But your ability to resist the Imperius curse is legendary. As such, I suspect any attempt to modify your memory would rebound off your thick skull."

Harry frowned, but said nothing. Hermione suspected that he didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted by that backwards compliment.

Snape looked down his nose at Harry. "I will hold you to your word, Potter. That you will tell no one. Not even Weasley is to know, do I make myself clear?"

"Ron wouldn't do anything to endanger Hermione."

"Not intentionally," Hermione murmured. "Remember what the locket did to him while we were camping? Ron's just not strong-minded enough."

"But you're going to be visiting him, aren't you?" Harry pointed at Snape. There was an undertone of jealousy in his voice. "What are you going to tell Ron?"

"While I'd rather not lie to him, the truth is out of the question." She avoided looking at Harry. She knew from painful experience that his loyalties lay more with Ron than her.

"What he doesn't know will not hurt him," Snape affirmed.

True, but Hermione was well aware that keeping secrets was not conducive to a healthy relationship. But even if Ron was strong enough to share the secret with, she doubted he would feel comfortable with her spending time with Snape. Nor would he appreciate accompanying her even if Snape approved, as Ron wouldn't be joining the Snape Appreciation Society any time soon.

The front door banged open, starting the portrait of Sirius's mother off. Hermione could hear Ron's voice competing with Mrs Black's shrieks as he wrestled her curtains closed.

"There'll be awkward questions if Ron sees you. I'd better go."

"Thank you," Snape murmured, then shot a glance at Harry as if suddenly aware that they had an onlooker. He turned back to her, and sneered, "I suppose I can't stop you from calling at my home whenever you please."

It took Hermione a second to interpret that. She was welcome to visit at any time?

"Well, you do have quite a collection of books I've yet to acquaint myself with," she retorted for Harry's benefit. After all, she really didn't want to put up with a sulky, jealous Harry if there was any way to mollify him.

"You in there, Hermione?" Ron bellowed from the hall.

Hermione dashed up the stairs, reaching the door at the top before Ron could open it. Once through it, she pulled it closed behind her as nonchalantly as she could, shielding her hand with her body as if the door had swung shut by itself.

To her surprise, it wasn't just one redhead waiting in the entrance hall.

"Oh! Ginny, I didn't realise you were here too," Hermione greeted her hopefully loud enough for Harry and Snape to hear her.

"Not surprising with the racket he made," Ginny snorted, poking her brother.

"Hey! It wasn't my fault someone oiled the front door. It used to be stiffer."

Hermione stifled a laugh with her hand, coughing into it to cover up her amusement. Ron had been the one to oil the door, but pointing that out wouldn't earn her any favours. Still, she couldn't resist exchanging a knowing look with Ginny.

"Never mind that, anyway." Ron pulled Hermione into a hug. "The Burrow's empty," he whispered into her ear. "Mum and Dad have gone to visit Aunt Muriel. C'mon, it'll be just you and me."

"And I'll be keeping Harry company." Ginny smiled sweetly when Ron blanched.

"Look, Ginny, don't push it. I'm turning a blind eye on what you're doing, but I could just as easily keep my promise to Mum and Dad."

"Come off it, you want to get laid too much for that," Ginny scoffed.

Hermione hoped that the occupants of the kitchen couldn't hear this, or at least that Snape had left. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye whenever she next saw him. Just in case Snape was still around, she'd better drag Ron off before either sibling said something more embarrassing.

"Whoa! Her-MI-oh-ne, you're eager! Wait until we get to the Burrow!"

'Too late,' she thought, her cheeks flaming.

*

Hermione escaped Ron's love nest in the Burrow just before his parents returned. While Molly's reaction to her presence might have been interesting, she had no desire to subject herself to a lecture she wouldn't get from her own mother.

Not that she would be lectured by her mum anytime soon. Hermione supposed that she was fortunate not to be disowned after restoring their memories and bringing them back from Australia. Her parents hadn't appreciated her keeping them in the dark, or of using magic on them without their consent. They were no longer on speaking terms with her.

While her parents hadn't thrown her out of the family home, she didn't feel comfortable there. For the last month, Hermione had been staying either in the Burrow or in Grimmauld Place – when Snape hadn't been living there. Ron would doubtless have preferred her to make the Burrow her permanent home, but Hermione found Mrs Weasley's presence stifling. Hence her departure before the Weasley matriarch's return.

Besides, she had put off the check up at St Mungo's – the one Snape had insisted on – long enough. Although that wasn't the reason she gave Ron. If he knew she was going to hospital, he'd only worry. And if he knew the reason why, he'd blame himself for not getting her out of Bellatrix Lestrange's clutches sooner. No, Ron was under the impression she was going to Grimmauld Place to remind Ginny to Apparate immediately into her bedroom.

Except it was high time that Ron grew a backbone and cut the apron strings. If Ginny got back in time to save his – and her own – skin, it wouldn't be Hermione's doing. Even if this meant that she'd be in for hell when she next saw Ron, it would be worth it; if their relationship was to survive, he had to be his own man.

*

Hermione had estimated that she wouldn't be at St Mungo's for long, despite not making an appointment. While she normally despised taking advantage of her association with Harry and exploiting her own fame, she couldn't resist the opportunity to avoid sitting around in a hospital waiting room until the cows came home.

Indeed she was seen almost immediately, as soon as the Welcome Witch realised that she wasn't just a Hermione Granger lookalike. But it was not a short and simple check up. Hermione had anticipated being at Grimmauld Place for lunch; instead, she was discharged from St Mungo's after dinner. What she had thought would be a straightforward check up turned into a whole battery of tests, and then a series of treatments to neutralise the Cruciatus after effects lurking in her body.

Snape had been right. Hermione shuddered to think what would have happened if she hadn't undergone medical treatment within six months of prolonged exposure to the Unforgivable. Aches and pains in cold weather would have been the least of Hermione's problems had Snape not advised her to seek medical attention. Hermione shook herself. The health professionals knew now. And Snape deserved a thank you. In person.

Which had nothing to do with all of those books of his that she'd never read.

*

In retrospect, Hermione considered herself fortunate that she didn't Splinch. She had intended to Apparate into Snape's sitting room, but her determination to read those books of his had messed with her destination.

She ended up behind a bookshelf. Luckily for her it was the one forming a door in front of the stairs, so she hadn't ended up inside a wall. It could have been worse, too, if she'd been thinking more about the man himself instead of his books. Hermione doubted Snape would have appreciated her doing a Harry and landing on top of him.

Hermione was about to open the bookshelf-door when she heard Snape's voice.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"When Sirius and Remus were still alive, the only thing they told me about my mother was that I have her eyes. I want to know everything about her. What she was like, what she liked... and you were her friend. You know these things."

Hermione peeked through a gap in between the top of a book and the shelf above. Snape was sitting with his back to her, only the top of his head visible over the high-backed chair. Harry was standing in front of him, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"I...I wouldn't ask, but... I threw the Resurrection Stone away. I've tried to find it, but I'd have more luck finding a needle in a haystack. Accio doesn't work. Now you're my only hope."

"The Resurrection Stone? As in, the Deathly Hallow?" Snape sounded incredulous. Hermione realised that he knew nothing of Harry's possession of them.

"Yes," Harry wailed. "I had it on the night I defeated Voldemort," ...Snape flinched at the name... "and I used it to summon my parents and Sirius and Lupin to keep me company, and then I threw it away. I could've used it to talk to my mum!"

"Do not regret it, Potter. If the living are meant to talk to the dead, the latter become ghosts."

"Will you tell me about her? Please?"

"I suppose I don't have any other choice, now that you know where I live," Snape grumbled. "I'm certainly not giving you any more of my memories. That was bad enough when I thought I was mortally wounded. Speaking of which, why do I have those memories? I do not recall getting them back, yet I have none missing."

"I made sure the Healers put them back when you were in St Mungo's. No one else saw them, I promise."

"For the love of... Stop fidgeting, Potter."

The chair behind Harry scraped across the carpet to hit the back of his knees.

"Sit," Snape ordered, when Harry failed to take the hint. "I will tell you about Lily, on the condition that what I share goes no further. You are not to tell every Tom, Dick and Harry this time."

Hermione only just managed to stifle a gasp. Her legs were shaking; she sat down with a bump. She held her breath, hoping that Snape hadn't heard her. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Logically, she knew it wasn't possible to be heard without an amplifier of some sort, but the thought that she was discovered made her feel as if her blood had turned to ice.

If Snape found her, he'd think she was eavesdropping. That would ruin her hopes that he would eventually trust her unconditionally. In fact, he'd probably cut all ties with her.

She had to leave. But she couldn't. He'd definitely hear her if she tried to Disapparate: while she could do it quieter than most, there was still a distinctive crack. It was a wonder neither Snape nor Harry had heard the pop of her arrival.

What could she do? She couldn't retreat upstairs so that she didn't eavesdrop, even unintentionally. For one thing, Snape was sure to have creaky floorboards. For another, it might give him the wrong idea if he found her in his bedroom.

She was stuck. And, to be honest, she was curious.

'Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb...'

Hermione refocused on Snape's voice. She'd already missed some of what he had said in her panic.

"...she was human. I loved her, yes, but even I am well aware that she was not perfect. How could she be, when she chose your father?"

"Please leave my father out of this." Harry's voice was strained. Hermione could no longer see him – there were no gaps to peek through lower down – but she imagined the strain of remaining civil also showed on his face.

"Potter, you wanted to hear what I have to say. You cannot pick and choose what I tell you. It's either all or nothing. Well?"

"Go on," Harry choked.

"I understand that there are certain home truths about your father that you would rather not contemplate. Personally, I would rather ignore him entirely, but you want to know everything about Lily. My account would not be complete without mentioning James Potter." Snape sounded as though he was speaking between clenched teeth.

"But... I know what happened. I know that she chose him, and that my father may have been a bully, and I'm sorry about that, but he did improve. Remus and Sirius told me that."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. 'Oh, Harry.' What had she told him about using reliable sources? Just because her advice had pertained to essays didn't mean it was irrelevant to anything else.

"Oh, did they indeed?" Snape sneered. "The only way in which your sainted father improved is that he was careful to make it appear to Lily that he had. The only reason that worked is that she believed his word over mine by that point."

"No, that can't be right. He saved your life."

"Sirius Black's attempt on my life happened before my friendship with Lily was sundered. Think, Potter. What does that tell you?"

"Be...before? No, my father can't have... He can't have been like that." Harry was sniffling as if he was trying to resist tears – and failing. "My mother would never have fallen for him if he was."

"Here, Potter."

Hermione had to resist the temptation to push a book out so that she could see. It soon became clear what Snape had offered Harry: a hanky or a tissue, as Harry blew his nose.

"Lily fell for your father because he was a different person with her. As I was, I guess... she had that knack. The ability to bring out the best in people."

'Nothing to do with the fact that by all accounts James Potter had been rich and handsome?' Hermione mentally slapped herself. She had been brought up not to think ill of the dead. But then she had made an exception for Voldemort, so why not slip a little more?

True, Lily Potter died a martyr, protecting her son... but she shouldn't be held on the pedestal Snape kept her on. Even if he had admitted that she wasn't perfect, he was still deluded. Obsessed with an unrequited love. And that couldn't be healthy.

'But how can I help?' Broaching the subject with Snape of moving on from Lily would probably expose her eavesdropping. Unless she only used knowledge that Harry had already revealed to the wizarding world? No. Any interference might make Snape retract further into his shell. Helping him was something to do in the event that he trusted her unconditionally. Not before.

Hermione really did slap herself when she realised that she'd been lost in thought again. She froze as the baritone rumble of Snape's voice stopped. Had he heard her? She breathed a sigh of relief when he carried on talking.

"...she was a very talented witch all around. The brightest witch of her age."

"Like Hermione?" Harry's voice still sounded a little raw, as if he was recovering from a cold.

"Yes. Although more of a natural with Potions. She was also far less of a know-it-all, and did not regurgitate books when answering questions in lessons."

Hermione flinched. That stung. It also proved the old adage that eavesdroppers deserved whatever they heard.

"Sir... Severus... something that's bothered me ever since I saw those memories... Why did my mother never forgive you? I...I know calling her a Mudblood was horrible, but she pushed you right into the Death Eaters' arms."

Hermione hissed through her teeth. So that was why Lily discarded Snape like a used tissue... She put the knowledge aside for future consideration; the conversation was still ongoing. She didn't want to miss anything this time.

"I never deserved her friendship. I certainly did not deserve her forgiveness."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Saint Lily clearly had clay feet if she didn't do such saintly things as offer forgiveness.

"But... if that was me in your shoes, I'd have done the same thing. A bloke's got his pride!" Harry protested. "And if it'd been Hermione, she'd have forgiven me. After she slapped some sense into me, true, but friends stick together, no matter what!"

'You tell him, Harry!'

"You were both in Gryffindor. Lily and I had been growing apart ever since we were sorted into different Houses. If not for summer holidays spent at her home, our friendship would have died long before the OWLs."

"The Sorting Hat's got a lot to answer for," Harry snorted. "Imagine if Tom Riddle had been sorted into Hufflepuff!"

Snape chuckled. "You have her sense of humour." He sounded wistful. There was an uncomfortable, tense silence before Snape spoke again. "You are not your father. He never expressed remorse. You have – on his behalf... Although not for your own misdeeds."

"I...I never..." Harry spluttered.

"School rules exist for a reason. As do societal ones. Such as not stealing. Need I say more?"

Hermione winced. The same could be said for her. All the more so, as Harry hadn't actually stolen anything from Snape.

"But unlike your father, you had no ulterior motives to save my life. You..." Snape cleared his throat. "You are more your mother's son, regardless of how much you look like James Potter."

"Thank you, Severus... Ever since I found out that... that my dad was not, well, not the perfect person that Si... that some people made him out to be, I only had the idea that my mum was decent to cling to. It...it's a relief to know that I'm more like her. And to hear that from you means a lot."

"Potter, don't mention it," Snape muttered.

Hermione felt the sting of jealousy stirring. Snape was letting Harry call him 'Severus'. Although to be fair, he hadn't given him permission... and Snape had started to call her by her first name, while Harry was still 'Potter' to him. She'd have to try calling him 'Severus' the next time she talked to him.

A clock tolled the hour.

"It's getting late," Harry remarked. "Could... could I visit again sometime?"

Snape grunted. "I don't suppose I can stop you."

Hermione tuned out Harry's effusive thanks. That meant that Lily's spectre would be continually dredged up for Snape. How on earth was she going to prevent herself from attempting to get him to see sense before he was ready?

She dimly noted Harry's voice call something. The whoosh of him Flooing away brought her back to the here and now. Her breath caught in her throat. Why hadn't she Disapparated when she had the chance? Now she was stuck here, and Snape was sure to find her. Unless she was lucky enough for him to drop off to sleep in his chair?

There was the distinct sound of liquid pouring, which prompted her mouth to ache with thirst.

"Cup of tea, Hermione?" Snape enquired mildly.

"Yes, please..." Hermione answered automatically, before she covered mouth, muffling a horrified squeak.

'Oh, shit.'

*

AN: Many thanks to Kribu, Septentrion and JunoMagic for betaing.