Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and any quotes and plots you may recognize are those of William Shakespeare.

The Burrow was stuffed with well-wishers who had come to celebrate Ron and Luna's engagement. Once again, Snape found himself forced to be congenial. Sighing, he longed for his days as a spy where he could be as antisocial as he wanted and was never expected to attend functions such as this. But then, of course, that would mean he would still have to answer to Voldemort; that thought was enough to make him shudder. The Weasleys and the Trio were loud, annoying and rowdy, but at least they weren't apt to torture him physically on a whim. No, their torture was of a different sort. Unable to deal with the noise and the crowd, he slipped unnoticed out the back door for the solitude and silence of the garden.

The young Weasley engaged, he thought with a smirk. Since Potter was already married, it would now only be a matter of time before the last member of the Trio followed suit and succumbed to domestic bliss. He shook his head. He didn't understand the fascination with falling in love and pairing off for all of eternity. Being in love did nothing for a man but turn him into a fool and would eventually break his heart. Besides, why would any man want to spend the rest of his life tied to the same woman when there were so many out there to sample? He was content having meaningless affairs when the mood struck. Sharing a bed with a woman was one thing; sharing his life with her was out of the question. He couldn't fathom the existence of The Perfect Woman, a woman so exceptional, possessing all the qualities he desired in the opposite sex wrapped up in such an exquisite package that he would toss out all his existing beliefs and throw himself at her feet, professing his love to her for all time. And until he discovered that such a creature existed, he would continue to live life as he had been, content in his bachelorhood.

He looked up and spotted a group of men heading toward the door. Not wanting to socialize, he ducked into the shadows of the shed.

Remus, Harry and Ron paused at the door as Remus looked around and then whispered something to the younger men before they strolled out into the garden.

"I think I am going to be sick," Ron said, his hand clutching his stomach.

"Me too, mate," Harry agreed.

"Is it really a surprise? I mean, look at the way they fight," Remus said with a shrug as they walked closer to where Snape was hiding.

"But Hermione? In love?" asked Harry, sounding as if someone just told him Santa Claus doesn't exist.

"With Snape?" Ron looked even more peaked.

Snape barely stifled a surprised gasp at that revelation. He slid deeper back into the shadows and listened to the conversation.

"You're certain that's what Tonks said?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Remus assured them. "I was stunned at first as well. It isn't as if Hermione ever showed any outward signs of feelings other than enjoying the one-upmanship that is their twisted friendship."

"Are you sure she wasn't drunk?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Quite the opposite," Remus insisted. "In fact, Tonks said that Hermione was quite upset after Luna's party. Whatever Snape said to her that night had her in tears. She admitted that she cared very much for him, but that she would never say anything about her feelings for fear of being ridiculed and scorned."

"And with good reason," Ron said.

"If Snape ever found out, there would be no end to his mocking and sneering. It would become a sport to him, and he'd do nothing but torment her with no concern for her feelings at all," Harry said, sounding angry at the thought of Snape hurting his friend.

"That's why Tonks said Hermione never spoke of her feelings before," Remus continued. "And she swore Tonks to secrecy."

"So naturally she told everyone," Harry said with a laugh.

"Not everyone," Remus answered. "Just me. But we thought you should know so that you'd lighten up on teasing her for being single for a while. Give her some time to get over this."

From his vantage point, Snape could see that Harry and Ron looked properly chastised.

"I hope this doesn't get around to Snape," Harry said, watching a garden gnome run through the roses. "I would hate to have to kill him now that the war is over because he hurt Hermione."

"Who would ever tell Snape that?" Ron asked. " Besides, he wouldn't believe it if he heard."

"That's why Tonks told Hermione to get over it," Remus explained. "Hermione is better off with someone else, a man who would appreciate the emotions she was offering. I have known Severus a long time, and never once has he said anything favorable about romance, marriage or love."

"'Mione should be with someone who would love her the way she deserves to be loved," Ron declared.

"And not cut her to shreds every time he opened his mouth," Harry added.

Ron sighed. "I don't get it. What could she possibly see in Snape?"

"He's a challenge. And some women are attracted to the tall, dark and snarky," Remus said with a shrug. "I hope Ginny, Luna and Tonks can talk some sense into her this weekend."

"Maybe we can try to set her up with Percy," Ron offered. "They seem to both have an affinity for the rules."

"I think he may be a little too pompous for 'Mione," Harry said. "But you may be on to something, mate. Maybe she just needs to be shown that other men find her interesting."

Remus nodded. "Yes, maybe that is just the diversion she needs to help her put her feelings for Snape in perspective."

"I think it's time to start making a list of our single mates," Harry said.

"Let's talk more about this tomorrow," Remus suggested. "We better get back inside before our women begin to suspect we are up to no good."

"Aren't we?" asked Ron with a grin.

The three laughed as they walked back inside.

Snape walked out from his hiding place, staring at the door. He couldn't believe what he had just overheard. His first reaction was to think that it was a trick, but upon reviewing the events, he didn't believe it was staged. After all, none of them were in the kitchen when he decided to come outside for a respite from the crowd, so they couldn't have known he would overhear them.

Leaning back against the shed wall, he thought over what was said. Hermione? Loves me? Why? What would someone like her want with a man like him – a reviled ex-Death Eater who murdered Albus Dumbledore? Granted he had been exonerated, and she had never held his past against him. Nor did she judge him for it. But he was not the type of man to inspire love in anyone, especially someone as brave, intelligent and beautiful as her. Beautiful? Yes, it was true. She had grown out of teenage awkwardness into a confident, attractive woman. A woman who apparently thought him so callous as to vow to never bare her soul to him for fear of his reaction. Her friends were afraid he would scorn her if he found out. I probably would, he admitted. But it would be because of his own lack of comfort in dealing with emotions, and not because of the woman confessing them. She would rather suffer in silence than tell me. Am I really so cold? While he had no intention of ever turning nice, he thought that Hermione understood that their battles of wit were his way of extending an offer of friendship, or the closest thing to friendship he was capable of, toward her.

But do I want her to love me? He enjoyed their sparring matches, and they worked well when brewing or researching together. She didn't annoy him as much as most people, probably because she was more level-headed and intelligent than most of her counterparts. But love? He didn't know if he could say he felt anything close to that. He cared about her, that was true; it wasn't as if he wanted harm to come her way, but that was still a long way off from love. A picture of her in that dress from Lovegood's party flashed in his mind, and he remembered the initial attraction he felt when seeing her. All right, so it isn't love, but lust is a start, he thought. Maybe he would suggest dinner and explore the possibilities. Of course, this meant he'd have to rein in his snideness toward her. And, most likely, take some ribbing from the likes of Lupin and Bill Weasley for his earlier comments.

When I thought I would die alone, I didn't think I would live long enough to be married, he justified with a shrug.

And speak of the lioness.

He watched as Hermione crossed the yard toward him. Giving her an appraising glance, he found that since she had progressed from her teens, she had grown into her body and moved with a grace and confidence that had been lacking in her school days. True, her hair was still as bushy as ever, but who was he to criticize in that department? Her skin was flawless and pale, but from natural coloring more than lack of sunlight. The Muggle clothing she wore showed womanly curves he hadn't taken notice of before when she was just Miss Granger, Sparring Partner, and not Hermione, Potential Date. But more than anything, it was her eyes that drew his attention. They were the eyes of someone who understood suffering, loss and sacrifice because she had been through it too. Though at times, they sparkled with laughter or glinted with mischief, he had noticed that they dulled with some unmentioned feeling when she thought no one was paying attention.

It was that, more than anything else, that made him decide getting to know her on some other level might be worthwhile, if for no other reason than to learn the cause of such sadness.

She stopped before him. "I know that you would rather be surrounded by first years than eat with the Weasleys, but Molly sent me to tell you that dinner is ready."

He studied her for any signs of her affections, but she was doing a good job at keeping her emotions hidden. He decided to encourage her.

"As true as that may be, I thank you for your pains nonetheless," he told her.

A look of confusion crossed her face. "My pains?"

"Your effort," he said, trying not to sound too impatient. He thought her smarter than this.

"I know what it means," she snapped. "I just have no idea why you said it. After all, if it would have been painful, I wouldn't have done it," she assured him before turning and heading back inside, slamming the door behind her.

Author's Notes: Any of the biting wit that you may recognize are lines inspired by/modified from Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing."

Many thanks to Zafania and Tjwritter, who suffered through the first draft, and to Logical Quirk, who made sure I didn't make more mistakes.