Chapter 2

A/N: This is an immediate continuation of “Man to… Man?” and I suggest you read that story before you read “Something To Talk About.” MtM was written from Severus’ POV, but this story is from Hermione’s POV.

Thanks, once again, go to the wonderful slytherinlaurel. I bow to anyone willing to take my work raw.

Disclaimer: I will say this once. My initials are not JKR. End of Story.

Chapter 2

Drawing her feet up under her, she tucked them so that they rested on her robe. Her eyes turned to the same fire he was watching. It was going to be a long morning.

It wasn’t long before Hermione’s thoughts slipped along familiar routes. She was in the midst of several important projects, and her mind rarely allowed her much time before it forced her attention to her academic priorities.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands went to her forehead. She had been making the Blood Thinning potion for Professor Snape’s third years. And she didn’t remember completing the final steps. It took quite a bit of conscious effort to steady her hand and move it away from her face. A few deep breaths helped calm her pounding heart. If she had ruined the potion, he was sure to have said something – or at least, she was sure he would have let her know just what he thought of her wasting precious ingredients.

She looked over at him again. His head had tipped back and his eyes were closed. Something deep inside told her that was a good thing right now. Why, she didn’t know. It just was.

“It appears, Professor Snape, that I owe you another apology. The Blood Thinni--”

His hand rose to stop her. “The potion cooled and is now bottled. It was practically done before you…” and here he paused again, “lost track of its progress.” It surprised her more than she’d ever admit to see a small upturn of his mouth.

An earlier thought came sweeping so quickly into her mind that she didn’t have time to stop its beeline for her mouth. “If I may sir, how did I end up here? And where, precisely, is here?”

“It is difficult, Miss Granger, even for a Potions master of my experience, to bottle a potion while there is someone slumped practically in the fire.” His voice was stiff and metered. “And you are in my office’s sitting room.” He paused, again.

Hermione had always thought that he thought through everything he wanted to say and edited it, spun it, and rethought it before he allowed the idea out of his mouth. The dramatic pauses he indulged in seemed to be the more thorough bits upon which he was chewing. From the length of this pause, whatever idea he was working on must be particularly brutal.

“Madam Pomfrey would have needed to treat you for an incredibly stiff neck if you had slept on that bench any longer, so I brought you here while I bottled the potion.” A thoughtful silence preceded a scowl. “I had a visitor as I was putting the bottles away. The Headmaster thought it would be better if you stayed here instead of wandering back to your tower.”

“Headmaster?” She wondered why the Headmaster would even know that she had fallen asleep here. Had he been Professor Snape’s visitor?

He must have seen her confused face, because he answered her unasked question.

“Last night’s ‘humanoid demon’ came in search of you. It appears that you missed dinner, and an…” and he frowned just slightly, “an appointment. Mr. Weasley was apparently a little upset to learn you had left the classroom. He then went to the Headmaster, concerned, of course, about your ‘disappearance’.”

Hermione found herself silently disputing his assumption that Ron had been concerned for her. “And the Headmaster, being the Headmaster, knew exactly where I was.” The words came out as a whisper, but of course, he heard her.

“I have no doubt.” His eyebrows rose. There was something he wasn’t telling her; but then, when did this man ever tell anyone the whole truth?

She shook her head again. Sometimes she couldn’t understand Ron. There were times that she even wondered if she still liked him at all. “I’m sorry for getting you caught up in this, Professor. I’m sorry he came down here and made such a nuisance of himself.” It wouldn’t have been the first time that he had made a fool of himself by rushing in blindly, and she doubted it would be the last.

“He did indeed make a fool of himself, but it was not here.” His voice had turned hard and sharp as the finest dagger. When she looked at him, puzzled about what he meant, she could almost see the anger boiling in his eyes; it was certainly there in the set of his jaw.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer her for a few moments. His hand swirled his glass around while he chewed on his thought. When he did speak, his tone had taken on a very staccato measure. What he told her then was shocking and disturbing. What surprised Hermione more was Snape’s admission that he had defended her.

He defended her, protected her.

As he was nearing the end of his story, she noticed that he stopped short of saying something that he obviously didn’t want to tell her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Why, sir?” She looked at her hands, which were resting on her drawn up knees, confused by Severus Snape’s behavior and dismayed by Ron’s.

“Why, Miss Granger? There are many reasons why, and they are none of your business!” And that was all that needed saying on the matter, apparently.

He had gone back to staring at nothing in particular, clenching his jaw and swirling his drink. This lasted for a bare few minutes when he suddenly stood up. He was half way out of the room when he heard Hermione’s frustrated sniff. Barely looking back, he conjured her a soft, green angora throw that settled itself over her legs and shoulders. “I’m sure that when an appropriate hour arrives, Miss Granger, you will find your own way out.”

The door slammed behind him, resounding within the small confines of the room.