Chapter 5

"What is this?"

Hermione's tetchy demand failed to the wipe the smirk off Draco's face. It was the morning of the Hogsmeade trip, and somehow, she knew the Slytherin's presence outside the Gryffindor common room had something to do with her.

Overhearing many whispering comments of her fellow Gryffindors, Hermione's face burned red. She fled past Draco without a word, but he merely laughed behind her and easily matched her pace.

"Trying to give me the slip, Granger?"

"You're delusional."

"You're my date for the day. Or did you forget our agreement out by the lake?"

"Agreement!" Hands balled at her sides, Hermione turned in her tracks. Noticing they were attracting even more attention, she continued in a forced whisper. "You used me to tease Dennis. I never agreed to anything!"

"I told you you were free to back out if you wanted to go with Denny-boy so badly... but you remained silent instead."

She could not find words, her incredulity was so strong.

"So in not refusing, you in fact agreed. Admit it, Granger. You want to be stuck with me all day..."

Releasing a growl of irritation, Hermione fled again, determined to exit through the Entrance Hall doors.

Arrogant smirk finally fading, Draco rushed in front of her path and said, "Look... just have a drink with me at the Three Broomsticks to keep appearances. If my presence still pisses you off, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

Hermione crossed her arms. "What 'appearances'?"

"I don't want to disappoint the rumor mill we've instigated...all right, I've instigated...this whole week. Besides, don't you think we both could use a bit of positive PR?"

"Ugh, FINE. But you are going to tell me more about your joining the Order... and I don't see how this will improve my reputation."

"Every witch wants a bit of arm-candy now and again..."

Hermione slowly turned to look up at him. She didn't say a word, or snort, or laugh in his face. She merely looked at him with both eyebrows lazily raised, and somehow it made him feel like the idiot he knew he'd been acting.

"I'm done," Draco said simply.

"Bout time."

---

A dark figure remained completely still and silent, hidden behind a pillar in the Entrance Hall.

This figure had overheard a few teasing snippets of conversation, but he had witnessed so much more... and didn't enjoy one moment of it.

Wheels were turning, connections had been made, and with each passing day, Severus Snape was beginning to think less and less of Miss Granger.

As he watched the young woman accept Malfoy's offered arm, Snape realized that for the first time in a great number of years, the remembrances of his judgmental accusations to Mrs. Snape back in 1983 did not bring him pain.

He felt validated.

---

"You can let go now," Hermione's voice droned while she blankly looked straight ahead.

The two of them had suffered a painfully long walk from the castle to the streets of Hogsmeade. Neither Hermione nor Draco flinched at the varied reactions their combined presence had instigated. Some laughed, many gasped, and a few idiotic girls appeared on the verge of tears.

The more radical these reactions grew, the wider Draco's smirk stretched.

Hermione feared that if she rolled her eyes one more time she'd go cross-eyed.

Pretending he hadn't heard her demand, Draco turned his head this way and that, as if the sight of High Street's shops and pubs were the most exquisite thing to be seen.

Hermione yanked her elbow out of his hold. "I'm fully aware of what you're doing, you know? I won't fault you for trying to make an impression on them, but please don't insult my intelligence."

Draco smirked innocently, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Who, exactly, is this 'them'?"

"Hmm... every witch and wizard with a brain who remembers your family's malevolent and never ending support for Voldemort."

Hermione kept walking, fully aware that her comment had stopped Draco dead in his tracks. After she had put a full shop's length between them, she turned around to gaze at him impassively.

The scowl directed at her was expected.

"We're even," she announced loudly. Pointing at the Three Broomsticks across from her, Hermione challenged, "You owe me a drink for this stunt."

---

Hermione had entered the Three Broomsticks alone, much to the detriment of the present students who had hoped to witness something intriguing.

Aware of the eyes on her, Hermione had marched to the back of the pub with her chin up, carefully removing her cloak to drape it over the back of her chair. When Madam Rosmerta's smiling face caught her attention, Hermione pressed her lips together, covertly waving two fingers in dismissal.

Rosmerta winked once and passed her table by.

Draco eventually entered, not surprising Hermione in the least. He sneered at the nearby students who dared to look at him too long. One sixth year actually jumped from his stool, apparently under the impression Draco meant to have his seat.

Once the Slytherin had located Hermione, he effortlessly edged his lean body between the crowds and kicked out a chair from her table.

Draco eyed the bare surface of their table with one eyebrow raised. Hermione smirked in response. As if on cue, Rosmerta appeared at Draco side, asking him if he wanted to open a tab.

"Two glasses of wine... er.... please."

"Ah... Well, I think we have..."

"Red. Merlot."

Rosmerta clicked her tongue, snorted, and then went to fetch their order.

After a few seconds of unsettling silence, Draco met Hermione's critical stare and demanded, "What?"

"You don't drink here very often."

"Here?" he scoffed. "I can barely remember the last time I visited this..." His scathing opinion on this 'low-class' pub died on Draco's tongue. He hadn't immediately recollected his last visit because it hadn't been one of a customer. Unfortunately, this memory came much later than it should have. Sitting up straight, Draco eyed the various occupants, as if he'd discern a vigilante among them.

"Katie never came back by the way."

Draco grimaced, dropping his chin. Both hands clenched into fists as he sullenly looked at her through his lashes and whispered, "Her medical expenses are taken care of..."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak.

"Indefinitely." The apples of his cheeks reddened.

Hermione nodded with a shrug. After tapping a rhythmic tune with her index finger, she looked off to the side and said, "And I don't care for red wine."

"Then buy your own damn drink."

Something within her warmed. Maybe it was his sour face, a sight she hadn't seen in such a long time. Or perhaps the grumpy crossing of the arms. Draco suddenly looked like first year all over again, and Hermione couldn't help the unexpected laughter that erupted from her chest, loud and void of mockery.

Draco regarded her with surprise, mouth opening to say something, but Rosmerta interrupted them with their drinks. Clearing his throat, he reigned in some of his affected composure. Raising his glass in the air, Draco said, "Cheers."

"What are we cheering?"

"To your newfound celebrity... as if such a thing could rise any farther. I suppose a team-effort was needed?"

The deep voice and sarcasm issuing from behind Hermione's chair was unmistakable. She gulped her mouthful of wine too quickly and paid for it with the hysterical coughs that racked her lungs.

"Care to join us, Professor?" Draco drawled, waving at an empty chair.

"I don't imbibe on patrols, Malfoy."

Hermione couldn't tolerate sitting silent any longer. His presence at her back was too close for comfort.

Carefully rotating in her seat, face flushed from her near choking, Hermione braced her body weight by clutching the back of her chair. There her hand found itself directly beside Professor Snape's. Cheeks burning when their knuckles touched, Hermione spoke as if she hadn't noticed. "Forgive me, Professor, but what was your comment referring to?"

Professor Snape tilted his head to one side very slightly, his hair falling forward as he looked down at her. Face indifferent, he held her gaze for three long seconds before answering, "It appears, Miss Granger, that your personal life has elevated from the trash of the Prophet to the gossip columns of Witch Weekly.

Snape moved to the side, presenting Hermione with a view of the window facing the main street.

Pressed completely against the glass was a well-known reporter from said magazine, busy camera attached to her face.

"DRACO!"

"What are you yelling at me for?"

"You arranged this circus, didn't you?"

"I arranged our... date... but I did not call the rags. What do you take me for?"

"This. Is. Not. A. Date!"

If Hermione needed any other reason to leave right this minute, said reason sauntered up to their table, drink in hand.

"Hermione! Draco, Professor Snape," Lavender Brown squealed with forced good humor. "Is this seat taken?"

Clearly not expecting an invitation, Lavender pulled up a chair.

Caught off guard, but not adverse to a bit of entertainment, Draco leaned back comfortably with a sardonic grin. He charmingly teased the girl, forever smirking, while she laughed with revolting exaggeration.

Hermione felt ill and said so, blaming the wine.

Professor Snape was still patrolling by the time she left. He had fled from their table the moment Lavender had directed an overtly flirtatious smile his way, but remained in the pub to torment the remainder of the students with his fearsome presence.

Hermione welcomed the opportunity to be alone. She contemplated finding her friends, but dreaded hearing their opinions about her dat...outing with Malfoy. Other than Ron, none of them had taken the rumors sincerely. She doubted they'd react as strongly as the redhead, but they would be reproving nonetheless.

It's not as if any of them had asked to spend the day with her!

Hermione tsked at the thought.

She and Ron weren't speaking to each other, so Hermione certainly did not want to spend the day with him. And Ginny and Harry were perpetually glued to the hip, one of the few couples at Hogwarts whom the Marriage Enhancement Act did not negatively affect. In fact, the two of them were foolishly engaged scant hours after Voldemort had been destroyed. Hermione knew it had been coming, but she couldn't help thinking that Harry's proposal had been a tad bit impulsive.

Neville and Luna weren't taking the new law well at all, however. Socially inept and naive, the two of them had enough trouble making friends, never mind dating. The idea of being required to find a spouse within the next couple of years was traumatizing, to say the least.

And then there was Dennis...

Hermione's face flamed red. Whenever she thought about the younger Gryffindor, her thoughts unwillingly traveled to the photo of Professor Snape. Hermione didn't enjoy these remembrances because thinking of the photo forced her to contemplate the wizard in a less than platonic manner.

Hermione didn't know if she should be angry with herself, with Dennis' cursed camera, or his careless spell casting.

A sudden realization struck her. Who knew what Dennis had been up to with that horrid camera of his! Its existence was already appalling enough, but now with the new law... Hermione needed to advise him quickly before Dennis found himself in serious trouble.

After a bit of uneventful window shopping, Hermione smiled at the friendly face she met. Standing upon a dais in front of mirror, Ginny waved at Hermione excitedly, beckoning her inside Gladrag's Wizardwear.

A tailor simpered and fluttered about Ginny's ankles. Taking in the sight of Ginny's dress, Hermione stated, "This one's beautiful."

"But?"

"Er... How many dresses do you need in green?"

"Harry likes green; it matches..."

"His eyes. I'm aware." Hermione fingered a seam at Ginny's back, evaluating the quality of the material. She inhaled when her hand was unceremoniously slapped away by the tailor.

"It also matches his mother's, does it not?"

Ginny focused all of her attention on her reflection. "Go on. Try with all your might, but I won't let you ruin my happy mood."

Hermione sighed. "I'm not trying to do anything of the sort. Just concerned. I'm your best friend..."

"Then act like it."

"I am. I'm worried."

"About how many green dresses I'm buying? Have you been reading the papers lately? I would think you have more pressing issues on your plate."

Crossing her arms, Hermione chose to ignore Ginny's defensiveness. She could understand from where it stemmed. Hermione politely asked the tailor for a bit of privacy, but at pointedly being ignored, she rudely cleared her throat in a superior manner that finally sent the woman on her way.

Voice soft, Hermione continued, "I'm worried about how much money you spend... Harry's money."

"That's a spiteful thing to say."

"For the last time, I am not trying to hurt you ... or judge you. Harry's always been extremely giving; lord knows how it drove your brother mad. But this is..."

Ginny whirled around and looked down her nose at Hermione. "Not that it's any of your business, but once we get married, it will be my money, too!"

"All the more reason for you to spend wisely," Hermione replied calmly.

"Just because your parents lost their dentistry practice in hiding, it gives you no right to lecture me on money management!"

A sharp ache tore through her. Hermione gave herself a moment to control herself and nodded once in departure. "Now that was spiteful."

---

Alone once again, and this time determined to remain that way, Hermione made her way to the deserted end of Hogsmeade.

She needed a real drink.

If any of the students had witnessed Hermione Granger's solitary entrance into the Hog's Head in search of a knock back, and had come away from the image with surprise, said student must have been reading the Prophet and not The Quibbler.

Hermione had seen, done, and experienced so much worse during her year on the run.

There was no bell above the door to signal her entrance. The aged, rusted hinges creaked loudly in her wake. Catching Aberforth's eye, Hermione smiled warmly and was gifted with uncharacteristic attention and a clean glass.

One... two... three large gulps sailed down her throat. She spun on her stool, covertly taking in the clientele over her shoulder.

A brooding, black-robed wizard seated alone in a corner caught her attention.

"I don't imbibe during patrol's," indeed!

Delicately wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Hermione grasped her pint and headed straight towards Professor Snape's table.

She wasn't pissed in the least. If she had been, paranoia would have taken precedence, not bravery. Hermione simply recollected the wizard's uncharacteristic actions that night in the corridor. It also wasn't lost on her that many of his odd... reactions...had occurred whenever the two of them were alone.

Not looking at him directly, soft smile upon her eyes, Hermione pulled a chair out from under his table and eased into it. In her peripheral vision, she caught the wizard's instinctive jerk. She also sensed his apprehension.

Bringing the mug to her lips, Hermione swallowed languidly, a faint click on her jaw was audible. At length, she finally dared to meet his eye.

Professor Snape didn't say a word. Instead, he leaned all of his body weight to his one elbow braced upon the armrest and cocked an eyebrow in silent question.

Hermione kept the mug against her lips, hoping he didn't detect her smile.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miss Granger?"

Clearing her throat, Hermione calmly placed her drink upon the table and completely tucked in. "Yes, in fact there is."

"You have my undivided attention, to be sure."

His sarcasm brought about the desired effect. Hermione's confidence significantly lowered. Aware that her face fell, Hermione followed the movement, looking down into her lap while speaking softly, "Honestly, Professor. May I ask a few... questions... about the new law?"

What in Merlin's name was wrong with her? Hermione had spoken about the Marriage Enhancement Act to a good number of students by now, but for the first time her eyes burned and throat tightened. Maybe this reaction was the result of the wizard she was speaking to? Either way, this emotional display unwillingly spilling out of her was downright embarrassing.

She doubted her face could blush any redder.

In her visual attempt to compose herself, Hermione had never noticed the tight clenching of Professor Snape's jaw.

"Very well," he conceded.

Hermione threw herself into her chaotic thoughts. "From what I can gather, I'm required to accept a proposal by my 22nd birthday... Accept, not submit. Does this apply to all who await their 22nd or are just the females?" There was no mistaking her degree of disgust.

Looking off to the side, Professor Snape appeared to contemplate something before he answered. It crossed Hermione's mind that he truly did not want to have a conversation with her.

His baritone voice broke the silence, easing her worries.

Cool and straightforward, he said, "Unfortunately, that part only applies to witches. While men your age may submit proposals, young witches cannot. Strangely enough, all witches and wizards my age must submit proposals to five witches or wizards within thirty days of the New Year."

"You speak of yourself with such criticism, as if you're ancient."

"Age regardless, I feel it."

"Well, you certainly don't look it."

That distinctive eyebrow of his was quick to reprimand her.

"Forgive me, I meant it as a compli..." She interrupted herself with a cough, swigging from her mug. "As much as I love being a witch, I'm continuously astounded as to how barbaric the wizarding world can be."

"Indeed."

"And what if none of the witches accept your proposal, for one legal reason or another, what then?"

Momentarily caught off guard by her question, Professor Snape regarded her with pursed lips. Drumming his fingers upon the table, he said, "I would then be required to submit another five the next month, and each month after until I am accepted."

"And what if multiple witches accept your proposal within the same month?"

Snape growled suddenly. "Patrolling aside, Hogsmeade trips are intended as an indulgence for instructors as well as students. I cannot recall the last time I allowed you such an obscene amount of questions!"

Hermione didn't react to this scolding like she would have in class, and for this reason it unknowingly caused the man a measure of disconcertion. Her very being, from the way she sank into her seat to the clutch of her mug, showed that this comment cut her...deeply. Face gathering itself into forced indifference, she muttered, "Forgive me. I truly did not mean to disturb you... on end."

"Sit down."

His words...his demand...was unmistakable.

She'd fled a fair number of steps towards the exit without comprehending he had spoken. Expression widening, Hermione slowly rotated on the spot.

Professor Snape leaned across the table, bracing his weight upon his elbows and held her gaze through strands of limp hair. He then cocked his head to the side, waving at her empty seat. "... please."

Her disbelief had her legs moving on their own accord.

"To answer your previous question, Miss Granger... In the unlikely event multiple witches vie for my hand in marriage, I will gain the option of choosing among them." Finishing the contents of his tumbler, Snape looked at her critically. Harshly.

His top lip practically curled in distrust.

"Professor...?"

"I must admit, I can't help but wonder why you're not only wandering about your own... but also choosing to sit across from a less-than-favorite instructor on your nineteenth."

He'd remembered the date of her birthday. Just when Hermione thought her level of astonishment could not rise any further...

"I refuse to explain away my knowledge. After all these years, I cannot deny how much I know about you students... as much as I would like to." He nastily sneered that last part.

"May I be blunt, sir?"

Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

Flushing, Hermione clarified, "May I be forward, sir?"

Professor Snape readjusted himself in his seat and nodded once, feigning boredom.

"I've... enjoyed speaking to you...like this. And thank you."

"For?"

"Answering my inquires and remem...acknowledging my birthday. You are the first."

"Your friends have forgotten?"

"I'm fairly certain they haven't. If history repeats itself, I'll have another 'surprise' party awaiting me in the common room."

Snape didn't say a word. Instead, he raised his glass in the air, tilting it as if in silent cheer. The effect was ruined by his empty glass and Aberforth's hasty approach to their table.

"Another whiskey?"

Snape nodded. "And this young lady will have another... Butterbeer?"

Snape's repugnant expression was met with one of her own.

"Mead."

Just when Hermione had thought her day could not grow any more...interesting...her assurance was challenged to an unknown degree. A witch approached their table, her stance close to Professor Snape's seated form. It took him a moment to notice the woman's presence and another awkward second to recognize her.

He paled, glancing quickly at Hermione from the corner of his eye.

While the woman was a fair number of years older than Hermione, it could also be argued that she was still a good number of years younger than the Potions master himself.

Finely tailored robes around her womanly figure, Hermione took all this in, wishing she was anywhere else but here. But realizing she couldn't just get up and leave without appearing rude, she decided to focus on the singsong voice that had been fluttering about.

"... yes, far too long, Mr. Snape!" the witch squealed. "Three years, if I'm not mistaken? I know you'd been very busy at the time, but your sudden departure was heartless! Well...never mind that now, hmm? The war is over and I hope our friendship can begin anew..."

Hermione did not know this woman, but she would never judge someone unfairly simply because her own insecurities emerged in the face of the witch's beauty and confidence. In fact, Hermione had been so determined not to appear spiteful that she tolerated the witch's deliberate disrespect much longer than she would have otherwise.

So lost was she in these thoughts that Hermione never noticed the growing distress of the man across from her.

"May I buy you a drink?" the witch dared to ask.

Gathering himself, brow furrowed, Professor Snape responded, "No, thank you. Perhaps another time. As you can clearly see, I am busy."

"Oh! I do apologize. I must've been distracted by your presence."

"Yes...well..."

"Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Finally perceiving the disgusting amount of insincerity in this woman's manner, Hermione found herself returned to solid ground. Sitting very calmly, hands upon her mug, Hermione already had a knowing smirk prepared.

Snape cleared his throat in discomfort, fully turning his eyes to the seated woman and said, "Miss Hermione Granger... I'd like you to meet Miss Madeline Greengrass."

Neither woman knew if it had been intentional or an accident, but Miss Greengrass' countenance flamed while Hermione's smile became one of pleasure. This witch had approached their table with the anticipation of being greeted as a valued friend, seeming to expect Professor Snape to direct the introduction towards her attention, not the other way around.

"Miss Granger," the witch repeated archly, following the man's unblinking gaze. "Ah, yes... I believe I see your face every time I sit at my morning paper... whether I want to or not."

Hermione was unmoved at the woman's veiled insult. "I have no say in the matter."

"Miss Granger," she repeated again. "I cannot say I know any Grangers... my loss, to be sure. Your family...?"

"... are Muggles, yes."

The witch smiled widely, directing it towards Snape.

"Muggles! How adorable. Of course, I should have known that, shouldn't I?"

"Indeed," Snape interrupted. "Unless you ignore the very paper you sit at each morning."

"Oh, Mr. Snape!" Miss Greengrass giggled, touching the backs of her fingers to her lips. "You're so severe. But I'll agree with you there. As I said, reading articles of the same three individuals day after day has grown... exhausting."

"And speaking of names," Hermione said, "shall I assume you're related to...?"

"Daphne Greengrass is my niece."

"Ah."

There was nothing else Hermione could say. The atmosphere stifled them. Miss Greengrass refused to leave while Professor Snape either deliberately ignored her expectation for an invite or simply wasn't aware he should offer one.

On the verge of laughter, but mindful not show it, Hermione met the woman's stony face. "Well... it was very nice meeting you, Miss Greengrass."

"Indeed, good to see you again," Professor Snape added, sincere but quiet.

Miss Greengrass almost jerked, hiding her reaction by squaring her shoulders. Throwing her thick, black hair over her shoulder, she was able to send a vicious look at Hermione without Snape noticing.

"I cannot begin to explain how pleasurable it was to see you again, Mr. Snape. My address is the same. There! You have no excuse not to keep in touch."

"Good day." Gruff and uncomfortable, Snape would say no more.

Once the witch had left the pub, Hermione felt responsible to fill the silence and said, "She's very beautiful."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter."

Ugh! Why was she still sitting here, tolerating such behavior? Merlin knows she had given this an honest effort. Why Hermione had bothered...or wanted...to sit with the wizard wasn't completely clear to her, but if he wasn't going to make an attempt at polite conversation, then there was no point.

Hermione downed her second pint of mead. The wooden legs of her chair protested against the floor as she stood up from the table.

"And where do you think you are going?"

"Oh, honestly, Professor! It couldn't be any more clear I'm leaving... sir. Unless, I'm required to attain your permission first?"

"Watch your tongue, girl."

"No."

"What...?"

"This isn't the classroom! You're not getting paid to make me cry. Thank you, again, for answering my questions...and for the drink...but I'm not grateful enough to tolerate your bad manners in exchange."

She stood painfully straight, calming her breathing while looking the man directly in the face. Expecting her words and defiant manner to inspire rage, Hermione nearly lost her footing when it never came.

Professor Snape crossed his arms, his entire being once again awkward and said, "You're welcome."

Her courage was thoroughly depleted. Hermione fled, at a loss for any other reaction.

---

"Miss me?"

Halfway through her trek back to the castle, a cocky voice descended on Hermione, catching her unawares.

Impatience reaching its peak, Hermione cursed under her breath.

Draco heard it and laughed. Walking backwards beside her, hands in his pockets, he said, "I should be angry with you, you know?"

"I doubt that."

"You never told me it was your birthday."

"I didn't want you to know."

Her arm was seized around the bicep. Draco forced her to turn around and face him, his grip firm but not violent.

"Hey!"

"I have been trying, Granger. I don't expect you to suddenly like me...I'm not even certain yet if I like you...but the war is over. Or haven't you noticed? We're not kids anymore and the bullshit has grown old."

Hermione stopped struggling against the arm restraining her, heeding the sense in his words.

"Besides," he continued, "I think Order members are required to get along."

"Why did you join the Order?" The way she asked this question told him she wouldn't consider a truce until he answered.

Draco clenched his teeth. A petulant scowl was very close to forming.

After a few seconds of expectant silence, Hermione made a disgusted sound.

"Fine, Granger!" Unwilling to allow her to turn away, Draco tightened his hold once again before she'd managed to completely pull her arm free. Fingers tight upon her wrist, he tugged lightly, tangling her legs.

This time they both cursed, tumbling to the ground.

Aware of how ridiculous this must have looked to anyone who'd witnessed it, Hermione covered her face with her hands, suddenly driven to uncontrollable laughter.

"Alright," Draco said, quick to push himself back up and straighten his robes.

"Alright."

But Hermione was still lying in the grass, laughing freely.

Unable to hide his grin, but still conscious of preying eyes, Draco hissed, "Knock it off, already!" He helped her rise from the ground.

Hermione gradually settled, wiping at her eyes and patting dirt from her robes. Draco took advantage of her distraction and blurted, "I'm spying."

Nothing else would have sobered her so quickly. She looked up at him, processing this information as shock, horror, and then denial crossed her features.

Draco nodded, unsuccessfully forcing a cocky grin. "For the Order. Alongside Snape, of course. Don't look so surprised! How else do you expect the missing Death Eaters will be caught?"

Hermione wildly shook her head. "You shouldn't be telling me this!"

"You asked."

"If Minerva didn't release this information, there's a reason it isn't common knowledge to the Order. You shouldn't be speaking of it!"

"You. Asked."

Hermione resumed her trek, pace quick as if she could flee from this unwanted truth. A little worried, Draco followed her.

"How could she do this?" Hermione questioned, speaking more to herself than him. "Just when the worst seemed to be over for good..."

"You know the Aurors are sacks of shite. They couldn't find their own fingers up their arses..."

"I don't want to hear any more."

"Get a grip, Granger. So far it's not that bad... and Snape's been doing this long enough. It's instinctual for him."

Anger flared in her, hot and suffocating. "It shouldn't be."

---

Later that evening, Snape absconded himself in his office, drowning his senses in tedious grading.

Her face... her words... He could not get Hermione's image out of his head. How she'd scolded him, from the way she'd carried herself to her sharp tones, it reminded Severus so much of Mrs. Snape. Just when he had convinced himself that it would never happen, the separate images of these women were beginning to meld. If he hadn't been sitting in the chair, voluminous robes draped about, the witch might have noticed his unceremonious arousal.

Why had she approached him in the Hog's Head? Did she really want to have a conversation with him? Or was she acting a part?

As much as Snape wanted otherwise... he couldn't allow himself to trust her. The young woman's sudden...interest...was painfully suspect. Each witch now seemed to flutter and bat their lashes at every eligible wizard who came their way...why not her?

Snape covered his face with a groan, recalling Miss Greengrass' attempts. The woman's intentions were abysmally clear. Already one to flirt, Severus was still taken aback by how daring she'd acted in front of a stranger.

And rude.

It didn't surprise him though. When he had been celebrated among pure-blooded society as the Dark Lord's right hand man, he'd suffered her fawning attention.

Now, Snape could only assume the article detailing his fortune ignited Miss Greengrass' ardor once again.

Issuing a snort of disgust, Snape glanced at his clock and scowled. He and Draco had a meeting this evening, and the little shit was late.

Draco...

The young man's very name drove Snape mad. What was the boy up to with Miss Granger? More importantly, whenever he espied the two of them together, why did it seem like the young woman enjoyed the idiot's company?

Her uncontainable laughter still rang in his ears, tormenting him.

Determined to locate the arrogant bugger, Severus threw open his office door with a snarl. A presence on the other side, hand raised as if to knock, forced him to step back in alarm.

She gasped at the same time Snape yelled, "Miss Granger!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You did no such thing."

His top lip curled as he was forced to watch that familiar corner of her mouth rise into a smirk.

Snape hated that smirk.

It angered him so because whenever he saw it, he envisioned dozens of inappropriate, filthy things he could do in removing it.

"What do you want?"

Unperturbed by his irritation, Hermione held a note out for him to accept. "The Headmistress asked me to give this to you."

Schooling his features, Severus took the folded parchment. More and more her presence disturbed him. He stared down at her, not blinking, hoping to regain control.

As if she suddenly remembered something, her good humor drained away. Meeting his intense glare, but unaware of the reasons behind it, she said, "Professor?

"Miss Granger?"

"I don't think I ever...thanked you...for the sacrifices you made... continue to make."

Before he could respond, she interrupted.

"I know, I know! It's none of my business. You don't want to hear it..." She waved her arm through to the air, insinuating the endless reproaches he could have given her. "But I-I had to let you know."

At a loss for words, Severus opened and closed his month. White-blond hair flashed in the corner of his eye. Taking advantage of the distraction, he brushed passed her, bellowing down the corridor, "MALFOY!"

The Slytherin jerked. Turning around guardedly, he looked at Hermione with suspicion and said, "Yes, sir?"

"Did you forget we had a meeting?"

"I...no, sir. You looked... busy."

Relieved, Draco approached the two of them.

Snape turned to Miss Granger, tempted to direct his ire at her. Something in the way she looked at him killed the reprimand on his tongue. Swallowing, he remembered their earlier interaction and said, "Thank you for bringing me the Headmistress' note, Miss Granger."

Clearly dismissed, she turned away.

---

Due to Malfoy's unpunctual stupidity, Snape was forced to drag the young wizard on his rounds. The Dungeons may have been empty, but the Potions master refused to discuss Order business where someone might overhear them.

The topic Snape chose to discuss instead was careless, but he truly couldn't help himself.

"Honestly, Draco... a Muggle-born?"

"You sound surprised?"

Recalling the boy's longstanding prejudicial attitudes, which Draco had never refrained from vocalizing in abandon, Severus challenged, "I would have thought you'd never stoop so low..."

"They tend to be very pleasing on the eye, wouldn't you agree? Forbidden fruit and all."

Snape released a groan of disgust in response to hearing the young woman spoken about with such vulgarity.

"Even you have to admit, Professor, Granger is very easy on the eyes. Not beautiful, but..."

"I refuse to admit anything to you, especially regarding a Muggle-born," Snape spat. This boy's attitude reminded him so much of what his own had been at that age, inspiring total repugnance in every one of Snape's word.

Draco laughed dismissively at the same time a loud crash issued from a nearby classroom. Snape spun around, immediately noticing a door ajar. He flung open the door, intending to find a student out past curfew. After a thorough...albeit brief...search, Severus judged the classroom empty.

Pulling the door closed behind him, Snape returned his attention to Draco and this wretched conversation. "I doubt you'll find Miss Granger receptive to the idea of becoming one of your conquests."

Draco tsked insultingly. "Look, I'm not out to ruin the girl. She amuses me. And as far as the rest..." Draco let the thought trail off with a sumptuous wave of his hand. "Hard to find fresh meat at her age."

Severus stared hard at Draco, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Oh, come on! You can't honestly tell me it surprises you that she's still a virgin?"

"How the hell would you know something like that...never mind. Don't you dare say another word to me on the subject. I've already been a part of this vulgar conversation longer than I feel comfortable with."

Before turning away, Severus gave the young man a few needed words of advice. "Before you go around tarnishing young ladies' reputations, remember the damage the last few years have inflicted upon yours. Miss Granger is far too intelligent a creature to trifle with you; you'll see that in time. But until then, keep in mind that the name 'Malfoy' is no longer a favorite at Hogwarts nor at the Ministry."

"Did you just threaten me?"

"I'm trying to help you, you idiot child! But you've never recognized encouragement, even when it was staring you in the face, have you?"

---

Too afraid...too crushed to move, Hermione remained still and silent in the abandoned classroom.

Why... why had she followed them?

For many reasons, she had almost allowed herself to believe that Professor Snape was actually interested in her. His actions and mannerism had told her as much.

All the same, she couldn't understand that disappointment in his eyes whenever the wizard looked at her...until now.

Hermione knew she shouldn't have fled, but she couldn't bear to listen to any more of Professor Snape and Draco's conversation. The repulsion behind the wizard's words... She couldn't remember the last time she had felt such pain, such hurt.

He's disappointed that I'm a Muggle-born...

---