Five

A/N: The writing of this fic is buzzing right along. I finished chapter eight last night and am raring to go on chapter nine, so I ought to be able to keep up the daily updates for a while. Honestly, I'm having so much fun, the fic is practically writing itself. Oh, and if you wonder when this bus pulls into Lemontown, chapter eight gives us a good start. ;)

Thank you for reading, and sloppy kisses to those who have reviewed. No beta, so any mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: They are not mine, I only take them out to play.

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It seemed that Wednesday would never come. Then when it finally arrived, her classes dragged on and on. At last, she was free and practically skipped on her way to meet Harry.

She'd worn a feminine floral print sundress with a rust colored cardigan hanging unbuttoned over it. The color brought out the slight copper tint to her eyes and hair. She'd even worn a little makeup, though she kept a light touch with it.

Harry was more casually dressed in jeans, a polo shirt, and a light jacket. He had a knapsack full of books slung over one shoulder, which Hermione thought was a nice touch.

Walking with Harry, she tried to prepare him for what he was about to see.

"I'm telling you, it's not like he looks a bit like Snape, he looks identical. It's going to be a shock."

"I'll be fine, Hermione. I am an Auror after all. We have to hide what we think constantly."

At last, they were walking through the door with the little bell heralding their arrival. Steven was alone behind the counter, and when he saw her smiling at him in greeting, his entire face lit up. It made it especially astonishing when he caught sight of her companion and his expression dropped into a slight scowl.

Refusing to do anything but soldier on, Hermione strode up to the counter and introduced her friend from class. Steven nodded at Harry brusquely, but neither offered his hand nor met his eye. Instead, he seemed strangely fascinated by Harry's knapsack, staring at it through the introduction.

Steven's gaze softened slightly as he dragged his eyes off of the book bag to look at her, but his manner remained short and his voice was nothing like the warm tones she was used to.

"The reading room is in the back. You and your friend may make use of it. I have work to do."

As Hermione and Harry walked past the counter, she could have sworn Steven reached his hand out as if to touch Harry's knapsack before the scowling man yanked his hand back.

Once they were ensconced in the small reading room, after Harry had taken the folklore book out of his bag for pretense's sake, he gave her a hard look.

"That isn't a Muggle who looks like Snape, that's Snape," he hissed.

Sneaking a peek out the open door of the reading room, Hermione could see Steven still standing at the counter. He was glaring at some paperwork in his hands, but he didn't seem to be actually reading it.

"Look at him," Harry whispered. "Even as a Muggle, the man still hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, Harry. He's just..."

"So jealous he can't see straight?" Harry murmured, and then giggled at her. "No doubt now that he fancies you. I swear that man could scowl for England."

"How do you know it's Severus?" Hermione kept her voice low. She didn't want Steven, or Severus, or whoever he was to overhear them.

"Aside from the obvious? Trust me, Hermione, I know, but I don't want to explain it here. Pop round after the two of you have dinner and I'll explain then. What I want to know is how the man got turned into a Muggle, and why he can't remember anything."

At that precise moment, there was a soft explosion from the other room. The two friends peered out of the open door to see that one of the fluorescent bulbs in a fixture hanging over the counter had exploded, raining glass down over the countertop and onto the floor.

"Fucking hell, not again!" Steven snapped loudly. "Bloody electric system."

Shaking bits of the thin glass from his hair, Steven strode towards a small broom closet near the reading room.

"So, what did you think about those legends of the Woodwose, Harry?" Hermione asked in a normal tone of voice.

"Great hairy brutes, weren't they?" Harry easily caught the bait. No wonder he was such a good Auror. "What I don't understand is why they carried a staff when they were big and strong enough to drive people away by hand."

That was enough folklore to get Steven back out to the counter where he began sweeping up the glass with a broom and dustpan.

"Harry," she whispered, "I don't think Steven is a Muggle at all. He was out there, seething with emotions, and then the light bulb exploded. Remind you of anything?"

"Of course it does. I wasn't the only Mugglborn that had strange things happen before I knew what was going on. So, he hasn't gone Muggle, he's just forgotten he's a wizard. Damn, Hermione. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Harry. We'll figure something out. Right now, I'm going to go see if he's all right."

With stories about braving the dragon in its cave running through her head, Hermione left the reading room and warily approached Steven.

"Steven, what's wrong?" she asked softly.

"It's just a broken light bulb, I assure you I can manage." Setting the broom against the counter, he turned to face her. "Listen, Miss Granger, I'm afraid I will have to cancel our date this evening. Something has come up."

"But I was so looking forward to it," she said with all honesty. "If you can't make it tonight, perhaps tomorrow evening?"

"I don't think so, no."

This would never do. The poor man wouldn't even meet her eye. With all the bravery in her gallant heart, Hermione stepped up to him and took both of his hands in her own. He blinked at her, his expression openly showing her his unhappiness.

"Steven, what's wrong? Please tell me."

He blinked again, and then the scowl fell back across his face. He attempted to take his hands away, but she held firm.

"I cannot go to dinner with you. Perhaps your young friend would escort you," he snapped.

"No, I don't think so. His wife is at home alone with the kids, and she's my friend too. I don't want to get her miffed at me because I kept her husband away for too long."

"His wife?"

The scowl melted away, and now the strangest expression came over his face. Hermione decided it was a mixture of confusion and hope with a dash of yearning. The frog in her chest rolled over again. Releasing his hands, Hermione put both her palms on the sides of his face and tugged his head down until their foreheads were touching.

"I don't want to go to dinner with Harry. I don't want to go to dinner with anyone else. I want to go to dinner with you, Steven."

Then she kissed him. He was too shocked to respond much, but his mouth immediately softened beneath her own and when his lips parted with a soft gasp, she took advantage shamelessly and slipped her tongue into his mouth. After a moment, she released him.

His eyes were huge and filled with heat. His lips remained open slightly as he gazed at her. His mouth closed and he swallowed so hard she could see his Adam's apple bob with the motion of it.

"Hermione, I'm a complete ass. I've behaved terribly to you and your friend. Can you please forgive me?"

"On one condition."

"Yes?"

"You take me to dinner. If not tonight, anytime is fine."

He smiled at her then, and she realized that she'd missed that smile terribly.

"I'm free tonight...if you wish," he said softly, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Good. Steven, I get the idea you aren't much-used to...er...dating."

A soft, self-deprecating snort and he shook his head slightly. "No, Hermione, I'm not at all used to dating."

"I've done it before," she said, and then grinned at him a little. "I'll guide you around the curves, I promise. But you have to learn to tell me when something is bothering you. I'm not a mind reader."

"I will try."

The look he gave her was so affectionate, Hermione wanted desperately to kiss him again. She held back. This was all so new to the man, she didn't want to go too fast and risk unsettling him again. He must have seen her glance at his mouth, because he leaned toward her, and for a second she thought Steven would kiss her. He wasn't quite that brave yet, but he pressed his lips briefly to her forehead. It was a start. She'd have him snogging before too long, she was certain of it.

He escorted her back to the reading room, where he offered his hand to Harry and apologized for his earlier lack of manners. Even as emotionally overset as he had been, there was certainly nothing cowardly about the man.

When Steven turned back to his clean up, after taking another confused look at Harry's knapsack, Harry goggled at her.

"You kissed Professor Snape!" he hissed, and then he grinned at her.

"No, I kissed Steven," she whispered back.

"Same thing," he said with a shrug.

"Harry, what the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Hermione. All I've learned from the Aurors about memory issues is that we are never to try to do anything about it ourselves. We're to take the victim straight to St. Mungo's."

"We can't do that with Steven. He'd freak."

"That's not the only issue, though that's bad enough. With memory stuff, you have to be careful not to do much to try to jog the memory. It's often best to let things happen naturally. Too much too soon can throw the victim into shock, even into catatonia."

"We can't simply leave him as a Muggle. It's not right."

"I agree. But we have to be careful, and we have to move slowly. For his sake. It's dangerous, Hermione. He hasn't recognized you at all?"

"Not a bit." She sighed and stared at the open folklore book. "We're going to need help. I don't think we can handle this on our own."

"Can you talk to Minerva tomorrow? She might have some good ideas."

"I'm free all day tomorrow. But is that wise? She really cared for Severus. I hate getting her hopes up when he might never remember who she is."

"Nonsense. Minerva will be thrilled he's alive. She won't care that he's living as a Muggle."

"I expect you are correct."

Worried that their continued whispering would be misconstrued by the touchy man at the counter, the two friends returned to talking about chapter four. Peeking occasionally through the open door, they could see that Steven seemed to have returned to normal. He'd cleaned up the mess from the shattered bulb and cheerfully assisted the trickle of customers who came into the shop.

When they'd decided they'd pretended to study long enough to look good, Harry took his leave. Steven bid him goodbye pleasantly enough, though Hermione could see him glance at her friend's bookbag again. What was that about, anyway? She supposed Harry would fill her in later, but it was difficult to wait patiently. At least she had her date with Steven to distract her.

When Marta arrived to take over the counter, Steven tucked Hermione's hand in the crook of his arm, much like he had the first evening they had met.

"Shall we?" he asked softly.

"Oh, yes."

Arm in arm, they walked through the door of the shop.