Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: JKR owns it all.

A/N: Many thanks to my lovely beta Rhiannon for her great work and support.

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Hermione arrived at the Brighton residence, eyes gleaming. She nearly skipped along the beach up to the house – the sun was shining, the water sparkling, and there was nary a cloud in the sky. She had bags of bottles, books, and bustiers, and it was a good day.

She made her way up onto the deck and opened the screen door. There was a nice breeze mulling through the house, slowly making its way from one side to another. She walked down the hallway to the kitchen, dropping her bags on the floor as she went to the fridge to reach for the lemonade. She heard some of the bags tip over, but no matter. It was a wonderful day. How horrendously optimistic is that? she thought, smiling, wrapping her fingers around the glass of ice-cold lemonade.

A brief flash of light in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She frowned and walked over to the counter opposite her. A crimson box sat on the pine countertop, gleaming with sparkling silver dots and tied with what appeared to be...

"Oh my God, is that unicorn hair?" she asked aloud.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," a lazily seductive voice drawled.

Hermione's hands, previously engaged in untying the strands of hair, froze. She knew that voice. Had been mesmerized by it for years. Had longed to hear it for ... only God knew how long. Please let it be him. Please don't let me be imagining things ...

She slowly turned to face the adjoining sitting room. Resplendent in a white cuffed shirt, black cargos, and My God, are those Birkenstocks? she thought, sat Severus Snape. His hair fell in waves that framed his face, and his hands were clasped behind his head. His skin was still pale as ever, but he looked ... relaxed.

Her body was frozen, but her mind was racing a mile a minute.

"How did you... " she started.

He chuckled and released one of his hands from his head, holding a gold key between his fingers. "Minerva," he said simply. He nodded towards the box on the counter. "Go ahead. Open it."

Her hands were shaking by now, her heart was racing, her mind spinning as she opened the crimson box.

Why is he here? What is in this box? Why would Minerva give him a key? Why would he want to be here? Is he coming back to England ... oh please, God, let him come back ... does he still love me? Is he here because he loves me or...

The last piece of paper gave way to reveal a simple white box. Hermione looked up at him briefly, and was shocked by the angered, pained expression that seemed to be on his face. Pain? Anger? Am I reading him correctly...?

She opened the box. There was a small note on top - Archie told me you were desperate to have these. Use them well.

She looked up at him, shock registering on her face as she removed the card to reveal two small glass vials of black and red powder. "Are these ...?"

"Aglaophotis and Orielibos?" he asked, getting up out of the chair. "Archie told me you were ... desperate ... to have them."

"He didn't say that he'd tell his friend ... Oh my God, you're his contact in the Mediterranean?"

"I don't know whether to award points or take them away right now, Miss Granger."

"Why don't you call me Hermione?"

"This is a business transaction," he said simply, his countenance revealing nothing. Damn his ability to hide whatever he's feeling. Is he feeling anything?

He sighed and continued. "Seeing as how Minerva and Archie both beseeched me on your behalf, I could hardly refuse the request. It was too ... intriguing ... a challenge."

"Did these come from Neville's greenhouse?"

Severus laughed, a deep roar that made her heart clench in nostalgia. She'd always been able to make him laugh when they were working together ... or talking together, or...

Stop it, Hermione. He said he's here for business. He is not here for you. God, why did you let him come if it's only here for business?

"Alas, no. I have distant relatives – no, distant doesn't quite explain it enough – extremely far removed relatives in the Arabian desert who control the supply of these herbs. They are very stringent with whom they allow to have them," he said slowly.

"And they let you have them?"

"No, they let you have them."

"But Archie said ..."

"It was easy enough to discern from his description who he was trying to procure the herbs for. In addition, the family would never allow the herbs to be released into society if they did not know the exact name, background, and profession of the person who would be using them."

"I don't understand. They're a Light herb ..."

"Have you not learned by now that even the best of magic can be used for evil purposes?" His piercing gaze silenced her.

"Of course," she muttered. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"So I thought." It looked like he had wrung his hands for a moment, but Hermione decided it was just a natural twitch. He's so controlled. How does he do it?

His eyes met hers, and for a moment she thought she saw a flash of pain in them.

"Well, now that I've delivered the herbs, Miss Granger ..."

"Don't call me Miss Granger!" she exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer.

"What?" He looked at her quizzically.

It's now or never.

She looked at him straight in the eye and walked towards him. "How can you do it?"

"Do what?" Is it just me, or does his voice sound strangled?

"Act like there was nothing between us."

"I can because there obviously was nothing between us."

"How can you say that?" she yelled. "I loved you! I loved you and you left!"

"Do not speak of that day, Hermione!" he warned, his voice dangerously low. "You did not care for me enough to come after me."

"You didn't care for me enough to tell me why you left! I had to hear about it from Minerva! Minerva! And then, I heard about it months after the fact ..."

"The Ministry kept it quiet," he said, irritated.

"You could have told me!"

"No, I couldn't have!"

"You were stupid, Severus. Stupid. And a coward."

"DON'T CALL ME A COWARD!" he shouted, walking towards her at full force, shoving her against the counter. "I acted in my own self-interest. I see now that I was wise in doing so." He turned away.

"Why?" she screamed, tears slipping out from her eyes. "I haven't seen you in a year, damn it, a year! Don't you think ..."

"What I think is irrelevant, Miss Granger," he sneered.

"I missed you," she said insistently.

"Like hell you did!"

"Who are you to tell me what I'm feeling?"

"Yes, who am I to tell you, when the evidence is laid right here before me?!" He shoved her shoulders and walked into the sitting room. She followed. Oh God not again. Don't let me lose him again...

"What EVIDENCE?" she shrieked.

"You did not know I was coming; therefore, I can safely assume that that piece of evidence over there has been purchased for a different gentleman. Your pathetic attempts at clinging to me are wasted when there is obviously someone else in your life." His eyes glittered. Hermione attempted to search their depths, but he shook her by the shoulders. "You are making a fool out of me and a mockery of yourself. You have your damned herbs. Find your cures, publish your findings, reap the wealth and fame. And live in your self-serving hypocrisy," he finished, and Apparated away.

The tears were streaming down her face. What piece of ... oh no ... She slowly turned around in the sitting room to see the bag from Paris – spilled out onto her hardwood floor – the bustier exposed for all to see.

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"Here's the key, Severus. I trust you'll be able to dismantle the wards and let yourself in."

"Why can't I just Apparate in?" he asked, turning to face his friend.

Minerva grinned. "She's just like you, Severus. She doesn't allow anyone to Apparate onto the premises except herself. And me, as well," she added as an afterthought.

"A nice gesture," he said snidely.

"Yes, considering that it is my house." Minerva smiled.

"As this is your office? Territorial, aren't we?" Severus asked, gesturing to the vast expanse of office surrounding them. He had been shocked when he arrived at Hogwarts to speak with Minerva; the office of the Headmaster (or Headmistress) had changed so dramatically since his last time here. With Albus.

Whereas Albus had favored simplicity and traditional Anglo-Saxon furnishings, Minerva's tastes tended towards the lush traditions of the Scottish Highlands. Her penchant for tartan robes and rich colors were obviously displayed in the spacious office. Tartans, plaids, and tapestries – all bearing different Clan patterns – adorned the walls. Several House Cup trophies danced above the fireplace – all Gryffindor House Cups, Severus noted – and the smell of coffee, incense, and old tartan wool simultaneously flooded the senses. He felt quite out of place for many reasons, not the least of which was the Birkenstock sandals he was wearing.

Minerva had yet to notice the sandals. When he had arrived – with the herbs, no less – her jubilee had been nothing short of explosive. She was a powerful witch, and had long become so accustomed to the shows of her power when in high emotion that she didn't notice the swinging of lanterns and glow of her hands. Yes, Severus thought. Powerful indeed. Minerva McGonagall was one witch you did not want against you.

"Yes, territorial," Minerva said, and winked.

Oh, gods, spare me Minerva in an excited mood. She's far too much like Albus for her own good ... all those innuendos and meddling ...

"At times I wished I was as accomplished a Legilimens as you, Severus. I'd love to see what goes on in that head when you mentally vacate the conversation."

His attention snapped back. "For my sake, Minerva, I'm very glad you are not."

She guffawed. "So, you're going to take the herbs to Hermione?"

"She is the reason I procured the herbs in the first place."

"She'll be overjoyed to see you."

"Again with your assumption that every Order member values my happiness above all else," he snickered, trying to cover the emotions raging within him.

"Hermione's a kind soul," she said softly. "Now, off with you, my boy."

"Such a kind dismissal."

"Would you rather I called you a ...?"

Severus did not stay to hear Minerva's baiting innuendo, and practically hurtled himself towards the fireplace.

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He Apparated onto the beach by the Brighton shore minutes later, gazing around, taking in the surroundings. There was a plethora of lawn, miles of beach and water, and a quaint white cottage situated the perfect distance between the two.

Hermione was there. If she wasn't, he would wait.

He'd been waiting a long time.

He walked up the steps of the wooden deck nervously, taking out his wand. He attempted to pool all of his concentration into dismantling her complicated and elaborate wards, smiling wickedly as he realized that a few of the wards were identical to his. She spied on my wards last year, did she? Sorty little minx ...

He took out the key and entered the house, wand out, trying to detect her presence.

She wasn't there.

Ah, well. Where's a chair...

He made his way down the hallway and into the sitting room, deciding to poke around a bit before she arrived. After all, all I have is time, he thought. He first walked into the kitchen. First things first. He pulled a small crimson box out of his pocket, muttering a charm to enlarge it to its full size. He set it on the counter, tilting his head to look at it. A crimson, silver-starred box with unicorn hair tied around it in a bow. A bit ... feminine ... for his tastes, but his dear distant cousin had insisted on it. Oh, you love the woman! Azar had exclaimed.

She was four or five times removed from him on the family tree, but she was his favorite relative, a petite woman a few years his junior. Azar had dark, sparkling eyes that came to life even when she discussed the most boring of subjects. And a wide variety she could extrapolate on, too! She was just as intelligent as Severus, with a knack for charms and a taste for coffee. She had married a man in charge of Columbian coffee, and Severus got his dark roast exclusively from her.

Yes, Azar had been thrilled when Severus had come for herbs. She was one of the few people he knew who actually delighted in his presence. Minerva would be another, he thought wryly. Shaking his head, he glanced around the kitchen. Fairly standard. He walked over to the sitting room, sparsely decorated, full of whites and creams, pale colors. Calming colors.

The elaborate marble fireplace caught his attention. Proof of Minerva's ownership, he thought, looking at the elaborately wrought stone. The mantle, in particular, was stunning – or would have been, were it not so cluttered with photographs. Hermione's photographs. He looked up at the framed pictures – both wizard and Muggle – which were full of predictable faces. Harry, Ron, the Weasleys, Minerva ... they were all here. My God. She has that ... his confidence left him as he saw a silver frame, pieces of glass missing, silver bits chipped off the edges. How did that happen? he wondered. Inside the frame was the picture from V-Day ... of when she jumped into his arms ... of the first time he kissed her. He'd kissed her on the cheek, but the picture didn't show that. It had been taken the moment before, when she jumped into his arms. In this photograph, they were forever captured in the anticipation of a kiss.

"Is it always to be like that?" he wondered aloud.

He turned away from the mantel, fighting back emotion. Why had he not come to her before? He loved her. He loved this cottage already. It was Minerva's, yes, but the photos ... the meticulous living space, the odor of brewed dark roast ... everything screamed Hermione. She needed him. He sank into a large lounge chair next to the fireplace, holding his head in his hands. What would he say to her? What had he expected? She would want a reason and ... he didn't know if he could give her one. All he could do was apologize. Severus Snape, apologize! But he was ready to do it...

The screen door to the deck clanked open. He sat up, startled. She's here.

Attempting to make himself look as relaxed as possible, he swung one his ankle up to rest on his other knee, and leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head. He knew how to cover his emotions, he knew how to steel himself against things. He'd appear relaxed, calm, smooth, collected, and...

She walked through the hallway leading into the kitchen. She didn't look to her left – she didn't see him yet. She had dropped a bundle of bags onto the floor. L'Ruelle de Deeses? My, my, aren't we full of surprises. He smiled; quirking an eyebrow. She had her back to him in the kitchen. She looked lovely. White capris, sandals, a pink tank, wild curls. She looked spontaneous, happy, unbidden. His heart swelled. One moment. He'd say something in just a moment...

She pulled a pitcher out of the refrigerator and was pouring herself a glass of lemonade.

The rustling of bags startled his attention away from her. Severus glanced over to the large grouping of bags, some of which had contents now spilling onto the floor. What is that...

Bloody hell. I'm a fool.

The most appealing scarlet bustier he'd ever seen in his life had freed itself from the constraints of its bag. The Deeses. Well, well, Hermione.

His expression hardened; his thoughts in a flurry, his emotions raging with anger. Minerva never said anything about Hermione having a man in her life. A lover, it would appear ... well, of course she wouldn't tell Minerva everything.

She's found someone else.

His heart constricted with a pain he hadn't thought possible.

Control yourself.

He closed his eyes, allowing the pain to wash over him in floods. If he had controlled the Cruciatus for so many years, he could certainly control this. A woman's love was fickle. Well. He was here on a business transaction. He was here to give her the herbs.

She'd noticed the herbs.

"Is that unicorn hair ...?" she was asking aloud, unaware of his presence.

Steeling his mind and heart against her, Severus relaxed his features and sank back in the chair. "Ten points to Gryffindor," he drawled.

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