Hello! Well, firstly, my sincerest apologies for not updating sooner. Life was, well, life. I had this chapter in my hard drive for over a month, but I didn't have time to edit until just recently. Please forgive!

And… yes well, last chapter was slightly dramatic, wasn't it? This update is a little shorter (and less dramatic, maybe?) but sets a little bit of necessary scenery.

Many, many thanks once again to everyone who left a comment on the previous chapters.

Disclaimer: No I do not own Harry Potter.

Rating/warnings: Please note the rating. This story is rated M for language and sexual content. There are also mentions of violence.

Chapter 7: Elizabeth

Hermione shot bolt upright in bed, sweat plastering her hair to her face, the echoes of her scream dying in the silence of the room. She fumbled for her wand desperately, whispering "Lumos" when her fingers gripped the familiar wood. Her voice was rough and grated, as though she had been screaming for a good long while. Perhaps she had been. She hoped that the strength of her wards kept most of the noise contained… it wouldn't do for her neighbours (some of them Muggle) to think that she was being murdered in her sleep.

The small light at the end of her wand was wobbling in time with the trembling of her hands. Somehow it was comforting, to not be completely in darkness, to be armed. Gradually getting her breathing under control, Hermione muttered an incantation and the lamps in her bedroom flared to life. With an effort, she twisted her body to plant her feet on the cool floor.

Still gripping her wand tightly, Hermione pressed her eyelids shut. She ground her feet to the tiles, willing the dream away.

The hiss of snake. The cry of terror and pain.

The thump of a fallen man. Blood, blood everywhere.

Coal-black hair, pale skin, dark eyes. The raspy shadow of a familiar baritone.

Look at me…

Hermione choked back a sob and wrapped her arms around herself, rocking side-to-side to push the memory away. It was not an unfamiliar nightmare. She had had it before, many times. But this time… it had taken on a whole new dimension of terror.

She hadn't spoken to Severus in two days, not since their last meeting. Not since the searing kiss that they had shared, the melting desire that she had felt in his arms, the feeling of absolute rightness to be pressed against his lean frame. After Severus had Disapparated, the first emotion she registered was absolute shock. Had this really happened? But one hand pressed to her swollen lips, the delicious throbbing of desire between her legs, the shock of curls that had erupted from her once-neat braid… proof enough that something had indeed happened.

The next thing she felt was righteous anger. How dare he? How dare he leave her like that? He played her body like a fucking instrument and then he left? Was he sadistic?

But the next emotion that replaced the anger, which washed over her as soon as Hermione had Apparated back into her apartment, was relief. Bone-deep relief. She had completely lost control of her senses. Hermione Granger would never have kissed Severus Snape had she been in her right mind, not sweetly shaken with alcohol, not nervous after a stressful day, not tingling with awareness that she was in the presence of a man she found ridiculously attractive. Alright, yes, she wanted to kiss him. Yes, the kiss was amazing. Yes, he made her want to rip off her underwear and shag him senseless.

But. He was Severus Snape. Some part of her never could forget that he was her teacher - the snarling, sulky, sneering man who never had a kind thing to say to anyone. True, it was a necessary mask during his time as a double agent, but that nailed home the reality that she hardly knew what his real character was. Was he acting with her, too? Was his seduction of her a skilled manipulation of her obvious fancy for him?

She was Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger never lost control like that.

Hermione heard a soft purr and started out of her thoughts. Crookshanks leapt onto her rumpled duvet and rubbed his squashed face onto her thigh affectionately. With a soft cry, she picked up her familiar and hugged him tightly in her arms. The half-Kneazle kneaded her chest with his large paws and purred loudly. "Oh Crooks… you always know when I need you."

Truth be told, she rather liked the Severus Snape she was starting to get to know. He had been surprisingly open with her, talking about his past like they were friends. He was fiercely intelligent and had bantered with her about Potions with an expertise than none of her friends could ever aspire to. He had cared for her after her encounter with the Dark curse with an intense protectiveness that she found strangely breath-taking. He seemed to be perfectly happy for her to take the lead when they had worked together, no complaints at all – which was rather different to her experiences with many others, Harry and Ron included.

Sure, her best friends did what she asked them to do… with not before a whole lot of whining.

Yes, truth be told, she rather liked the man she had kissed two days ago. That was unusual. Normally 'liking' was not a prerequisite for the 'kissing' in Hermione's recent history.

Crookshanks purred and rubbed against her face again, his large front paws pressing against her face insistently. Hermione couldn't help but giggle fondly as her familiar made himself comfortable on her seated frame. She hugged him to her like a large, furry hot water bottle, soaking up the comfort he was offering with desperation.

The dream… Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take deep had not been the first time she dreamt of witnessing Severus' near-death by Nagini's bite. But before, he wasn't Severus, was he? He was Professor Snape, the man whose motives everyone thought they knew, only to be proven wrong at the end. Her emotions back then were mainly filled with guilt that all of them, members of the Order who were meant to support each other, had turned their backs on Severus Snape during the time that he had probably needed them the most. But now…

Now the dream made her feel… terrified, regretful. If he had died that day, she would have never have known what it would be like to wrap her arm around the crook of his elbow. She would never have been privy to the generous nature he tried so hard to hide. She would never have discussed Alchemist's Quarterly with him, laughing at his sarcastic (albeit accurate) commentary on the latest Potions research. She would never have been able to hold him close, breathe the smell of herbs and parchment from his silk waistcoat…

She would never have been able to kiss him, to feel the fire that his fingers left on her skin, his breath on her neck, the firm body beneath her hands, between her thighs…

The sudden thrum of arousal almost robbed Hermione of breath. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding and gently let Crookshanks down onto her bed. Whispering a simple Tempus Charm, Hermione saw that it was already half past six in the morning. She was meant to meet Ginny for breakfast at nine, so there was little point in trying to go back to sleep. Hermione wiped a hand over her sweaty face and grimaced.

Perhaps she would feel better after a shower.

"Ah… isn't it lovely to be without the husband and squalling child, sometimes?"

Ginny Potter smiled at Hermione as she poured them both some strong black tea. Hermione tried to smile back but only managed a weak upturning of her lips. The shower earlier that morning hadn't really helped her to feel better after her awful nightmare and subsequent self-analysis. She really ought to see that therapist that Severus recommended… but of course anything that reminded her of him at the moment just seemed bloody awful.

"You're looking a little peaky, Hermione." Ginny's worried face hovered over hers, pressing a cup of tea and a saucer into her hands.

Hermione winced. Trust Ginny to notice that she was feeling a little off. "I slept badly last night."

Ginny studied her carefully. "Ah – and not in the good way, I'm guessing."

"No." Hermione tried to smirk, but failed. "Bad dreams... again."

Ginny nodded sympathetically as she stirred sugar and milk into her tea. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione was silent for a long moment. It took a few sips of tea and a deep, deep breath before she could say, "I dreamt about the time in the Shrieking Shack… you know, during the Final Battle."

The red-haired witch pursed her lips. "Snape?"

Hermione nodded, trying to hide her expression behind her tea. If she crumbled just a little bit, she was afraid that she would start crying.

"It's only natural that the dream affects you like this now." Ginny said, waving her wand to pile freshly made pancakes onto a plate for Hermione.

Did she know? How could she know? Hermione stuttered."W-what do you mean?"

Ginny gave her a strange look. "Because you work together now, of course. You hadn't seen him in years and then he shows up and you spend all this time together, and you're getting to be almost friends … I think that it's perfectly natural that you start seeing everything that you witnessed of him before in a new light."

Hermione put down her tea cup and picked up her fork silently, ruminating over Ginny's words. Poking her pancakes half-heartedly, she noticed a sprig of thyme nestled in the butter that her friend had placed in the middle of the table. In a flash her mind filled with her the scent of herbs… the smell of parchment and cauldron fire… the feeling of absolute triumph at having him in her arms… and then the horrible feeling of abandonment at his hurried departure…

Her face crumpled as she gave up all hopes of maintaining a pleasant façade that morning. Hermione laid down her fork as gently as she could with her trembling fingers before burying her face in her hands and allowing hot tears to leak from her eyes.

"Oh dear." Hermione felt soft arms encircle her shoulders gently as Ginny crouched beside her. "It's alright now, Hermione. It's alright. It was just a dream."

She let herself sob quietly for a few moments, allowing Ginny's calm voice to sooth her. "Ginny... Some- something happened earlier this week." Hermione forced herself to meet her friend's eyes.

Ginny's gaze was soft. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She swallowed. How does one put something so thrilling, so desperate, and so heart-breaking as that passionate encounter into words? "I- we… we kissed."

"What?"

"Oh Gin. It was magical." Hermione felt fresh tears pool at the corner of her eyes as the words rushed from her mouth in a mad tumble. "I think I'm mad for saying that, but it's true. It was amazing. I've never been kissed like that in my life."

Ginny looked at a loss. "Wait – you kissed Snape?"

"Well maybe Severus kissed me, it's not really clear. But Ginny… the way he looked at me… it was like I was the answer to every question in the world."

"Severus. You call him Severus."

Hermione blushed furiously. "Well, yes." It was surprisingly easy to think of him as… Severus.

"You kissed Severus Snape."

"Or he kissed me – I told you…"

"Holy shit!" Ginny stared at her for a few long moments before her mouth fell into a sly smile.

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably under her friend's astute gaze.

"So… what did he say?" The red-haired witch prodded.

"Say? Ginny, there was no talking involved, believe me."

"That hot, huh?" Ginny's smile became positively predatory.

Hermione's face blushed so brightly she thought she might catch fire. "If you must know, yes it was that hot. We were like fumbling teenagers!"

"Oh sweet Merlin, Hermione! Bloody, fucking hell! Tell me everything!"

Hermione acquiesced willingly, reliving that explosive kiss in her mind was one thing, talking about it out loud was another thing entirely. By the time she had finished, Ginny was using both hands to fan herself.

"Wow! Who would have thought grumpy Professor Snape had it in him!"

"Oh, Ginny… I was seconds away from begging him to take me right there! It was humiliating when he just… up and left me!"

"Wait – what?"

"He Disapparated… very suddenly."

Ginny made a face and gently tapped her ear with her wand. "Sorry, I must be going a little deaf from James' screaming fits. It sounded like you said he suddenly Disapparated."

"He did." Hermione tried not to let her face crumple again, but it was a lost cause. "He really did. One minute we were snogging like hapless adolescents and the next minute he was standing a metre away and staring at me like I was a bloody Thestral. And then he Disapparated."

And then she burst into sobs.

"Oh, Hermione… don't cry." Ginny Summoned a large handkerchief and pressed it into her distraught friend's hands. "It's Snape… he's not exactly Mr Social Graces."

"But he used to be a spy! For two decades! I thought that gave him nerves of bloody steel!" Hermione wailed, blowing her nose on the kerchief.

"Well, I figure he mostly used his nerves of steel to pander to the requests of murdering sociopaths, or to terrorize schoolchildren, not to seduce intelligent, beautiful witches."

Hermione sniffled. "That's part of the problem, really. I don't really know anything about him besides his… history, but I feel like I want to. And I never want to get to know men whom I want to… you know…" She gesticulated to form a vague approximation of coupling with her hands. It looked rather like she was trying to knead air. Ginny sniggered. "Anyway, I thought you hated him… because of what he did when he was Headmaster at Hogwarts."

Ginny's expression sobered immediately. "Hermione, that was a long time ago… and now I'm just so glad to finally understand the hell that man had to go through that year. We did hate him then – me, and Neville, and many of the others – because he always seemed to be around when we got into trouble with the Carrows. And… and he would just stand there and smirk like he really enjoyed seeing us get punished." Ginny twisted her face in an uncanny imitation of the Snape smirk. "But now we know that he was there to prevent the really shitty stuff from happening to us. And looking back, when the Carrows were in a really terrible mood, Snape would take over the punishments himself! We thought he enjoyed giving us detentions… but really, those detentions in the dungeons probably saved us from being tortured to death by psychopaths."

Hermione hugged Ginny tightly, more tears leaking from her swollen eyes. Poor Ginny. Poor Neville. Poor, poor Severus.

He had always worked so hard to protect them. But who protected him? No one.

Squeezing Ginny's hand, Hermione tried to articulate one of the things that bothered her immensely about her dealings with Severus. "I just… well. This is really hard to express… so, please don't judge…" She took a deep breath. "Okay. Mostly, I just sleep with men, and then we part ways in the morning and all's well, and sometimes we see each other again, most times we don't. There's an understanding. The problem is… I just don't think I can do that with Severus. I think he deserves better. But that doesn't make me want him less."

Ginny's eyebrows knitted together. "Hermione, does it always have to be just sex?"

"What are you talking about?" Her mouth dropped open. "You mean, a relationship?"

"Some people have them, you know."

"A relationship? With Severus Snape?"

Ginny crossed her arms. "And why not?"

"Because it's Snape!"

"I thought it was Severus now." Ginny remarked wryly. "Okay, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"No, I mean seriously." Hermione was at a loss. "You're suggesting I embark on a relationship with Severus Snape. Are you crazy? He was our teacher. He's twenty years older than me! He's a freaking war hero!" The pitch of her voice started rising with each word.

"Okay, firstly – he was our teacher, the past tense is important. Secondly, you're a witch, he's a wizard – twenty years is nothing. Thirdly, you're a war hero too."

Hermione fell silent for a moment. "I haven't had a relationship in a long time, Gin."

Ginny sat down beside her friend and put an arm around her shoulders gently. "I know, love. We both know there's a reason for that, and you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm just saying that maybe… if you want to move on from whatever is making you afraid of having someone special - I mean really special - in your life… maybe now is not a bad time to try something that is more than a one-night stand."

Hermione chuckled despite her still relatively gloomy disposition. "You're taking this all very calmly. Me and Severus Snape? I thought you would admit me to St Mungo's for confessing any of this."

"Well, it's not so very mad, Hermione." Ginny magically refilled both their teacups and leaned back in her chair, appearing to consider her next words carefully. "The man we all knew as Professor Snape… well, that was a mask, wasn't it? The cruel sarcasm, the sardonic humour, the hatred of all things Gryffindor... With everything we know now, I think we can all admit that he is loyal, brave and smart as hell. Coincidentally, you are also all of these things. Of course, I don't know him very well beneath all the scowls and black wool, but you do. Or at least, you're starting to. And if you like him… then, well, it's not so mad, is it?"

"I never said I liked him." Hermione shot out automatically, wincing almost immediately with how juvenile that sounded.

Ginny had a good grace not to roll her eyes. "You didn't, but I think it's fairly obvious. If you didn't like him, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You would either have Apparated after him and shagged his brains out, or you would have moved on and found yourself another bloke. And since you've done neither, I think we can safely assume that you like him."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "And they call me The Brightest Witch of our Age."

"Some of it must have rubbed off." Ginny winked.

Both of them were quiet for a long moment. Finally, Hermione sighed. "Please don't tell Harry any of this. I know he's your husband- I just…"

"You don't have to say any more." The youngest Weasley interrupted, smiling at her friend. "It stays between us. Whatever you want to do, it's your decision and I'm here for you no matter what."

Hermione returned a watery smile and started on her pancakes. They were delicious. She began scooping dollops of cream and jam onto her pancakes with renewed vigour, to Ginny's amusement.

"Ginny…" Hermione paused thoughtfully, her mouth half-full of chewed up pancake. She swallowed quickly and continued, "Hypothetically speaking… strictly hypothetically… what would you do if you were me and you wanted to… reach out to Severus?"

And maybe get another kiss, Hermione's libido supplied unhelpfully.

Ginny pursed her lips, tapping her fork on the side of her plate. "Well, you know Harry and I met when we were both very young, and there was a lot… well, there was a lot of messing around before we figured out what we really wanted from each other. So I would say… if you think you know what you want from this man, don't play games. Just tell him how you feel."

"Right. Got it."

Hermione left the Potter's house feeling equal parts relieved and confused. On one hand, she felt much better having confided in Ginny about her ridiculously heated encounter with their former Professor. But at the same time, what her friend had suggested to her went against all the rules that Hermione had set about men in the past years since breaking up with Ron.

First rule – don't get attached.

Second rule – don't forget the first rule.

Hermione flopped into the armchair in her sitting room. It was Sunday and she couldn't rouse the motivation to go to work and be reminded of the case that she wasn't allowed to be working on. Instead, she listlessly Summoned a book from the shelf. Holding it half-heartedly in her hands, she leaned back into her armchair, her pleasantly full stomach making her feel slightly sleepy. Ginny had spent the rest of breakfast interrogating Hermione about all her recent dealings with Severus Snape. In fact, the rapid-fire questioning from the red-headed witch gave Hermione an insight into Ginny's journalist-mode that she slipped into for her work at the Quidditch mag.

I'm not even his type, anyway.

What a ridiculous notion. How do you even know he has a 'type'?

Remember that quiz…?

Wait, you showed him that quiz from Witch's Weekly? Hermione!

Yeah, but I plied him with wine first. Oh, and I told him you cut it out for me…

Sweet Circe. Thanks a lot, Hermione. Now I'll never be able to look at him in the face…

And you think I should?

Why not? He had wine with you and let you quiz him about his love life! He's obviously completely batty about you!

Oh Ginny, you have a wonderful imagination.

Sighing, Hermione couldn't help but stare at her fireplace. With a rush of heat to her face, she remembered the time that Severus had Flooed unexpectedly to her apartment. Although he had caught her in a compromising position, he had barged in so suddenly because he was worried. Worried about her… that she might be in danger. Over her past weeks of working together with the enigmatic wizard, it was obvious that – although he was not 'completely batty' – that he did care about her.

But then… why hadn't he contacted her since that night? Why did he leave her so suddenly, her mind still reeling from their kiss?

Nibbling her lower lip, Hermione put the book aside before dropping her face in her hands with a groan. It was useless. She just couldn't stop thinking about him, and not just because of that kiss. Oh, she did want to run her fingers over his back and broad shoulders. She did want to press against him and make him hiss with pleasure. She did want to taste the fresh mint of his breath on her tongue. She definitely wanted all of that. But deep down, there was a yearning for more – she wanted them to continue their conversations about Potions and the 'foolish wand-waving' of Charms, she wanted to talk to him about her academic future, she wanted to have tea with him by the fireplace…

She wanted him to look at her the way he always did at the start of every meeting – his dark eyes filled with something almost like wonderment. Although the rest of his face would remain impassive, through his eyes Hermione thought she could tell how pleased he was to see her.

Just tell him how you feel.

But how? She didn't even know how to contact him. When they last met, he said he would get in touch with her. But of course, that was before they snogged like randy teenagers in a public alleyway.

Wait.

He had already given her access to his home via Floo! After her unfortunate experience at Nott Junior's flat, she had been preparing to shakily Apparate home when Severus stopped her.

"Miss Granger… Hermione." In the dim lighting, Hermione had hoped that he couldn't see her blush at the obvious warmth in his tone. "Potter was right. If you are unwell this evening, you should seek help immediately. It is possible that remnants of Dark Magic can linger and cause… discomfort later on."

"Oh." She had said, frowning. "Well, I'm sure I'll be fine." At the look on Severus' face, she added quickly, "But yes, I will talk to Harry if I feel any, uh, lingering discomfort."

Severus stared at her for a long moment. It was long enough that Hermione felt that she may as well take her leave, no matter how kind or empathetic he was being. Being the sole object of Severus Snape's attention was a rather intense experience.

"Wait – Hermione." Appearing to make a decision, Severus dropped his wand into his hand. "Your wand, if you please."

Without even pausing to think about it, she had whipped out her wand and was holding it casually in front of her. Severus scowled at her quick acquiescence. Hermione knew that he was about to berate her for listening to him so readily, so she cut in before he could began speaking.

"I trust you, Severus."

His open mouth gaped for a moment before he seemed to collect himself enough to close it. Almost stiffly, Severus touched the tip of his wand to hers and muttered an incantation under his breath that she couldn't catch. "My home is Secret-Kept, Unplottable, and heavily warded. But if you wish to seek… assistance from me at any time, you can now do so by Floo. Hold out your wand, say my name as you step into the Floo, and you will be taken directly there."

The tips of both their wands flared and Hermione felt gentle warmth bathe her wand hand. Her heart was thudding loudly. Sure, she had provided Severus access to her own home, but she hadn't expected for him to do the same for her. She knew and accepted how private he was. For him to trust her like this… well, it was almost unbelievable.

"Thank you…" Her jarred brain functions had only been able to produce those two words.

Hermione looked up at the dark depths of his gaze. The edges of his eyes crinkled in the way she had grown to really like, and she smiled in return.

"Anytime, Hermione."

Hmm. Anytime? Like… now?

Well. It was Saturday. Saturday was a day for socialising, right? Hermione shook her head roughly and released a long breath. She was being completely mad. Best to just read her book and forget all about this. She was off the case and there was absolutely no need to contact Severus Snape. By rights she should be angry with him for kissing her and then leaving her like that.

Yes, it was best to be rid of that crazy idea. Hermione thought, opening her thick tome and snuggling deeper into her armchair.

Twenty minutes later found her standing in front of her fireplace, wand in hand, and nervously adjusting the folds of her sundress. It had taken only about thirty seconds for Hermione to discard the book (gently, of course) and run to her cupboard, casting off the comfortable but slightly too-casual jeans and oversized shirt that she had worn to meet Ginny. Fifteen minutes was all it took to wreak havoc on her usually neat bedroom as she pulled out blouse after skirt, trousers and dresses, dismissing each outfit either as 'too fussy', 'too serious', or 'too obvious' until she had settled on a yellow sundress beneath a casual set of dark robes and a pair of pale green earrings. The yellow brought out the deep amber of her eyes (previously stated by her informal fashion advisor, Lavender Brown), and the earrings were meant to be a subtle (or not-so-subtle) nod to the former Head of Slytherin house who she was trying to impress. Two minutes later, she had a light sheen of lip gloss on – no lipstick, on the off-chance that there would be the opportunity for more snogging later – and had wrangled her hair into a slightly more tamed version of the rat's nest that she had gone to Ginny's with. It took two and a half more minutes to work up the courage to stand in front of her fireplace, trying not mess up her lip gloss any further with excessive lip-biting.

Her head was still buzzing with the adrenaline rush that had followed her decision to Floo over to surprise Severus, but now that the high was dampening down, Hermione was beginning to feel anxious. What on earth was she doing? What if he didn't want to see her? What if he was… busy?

Hermione threw back her head and groaned loudly. She was being ridiculously rash and impulsive. Back at school, Harry and Ron had been the impulsive ones, always leaping into danger with little thought for the consequences, whilst she had been the level-headed one, the one who went to the library to research their options, the one who made lists. This was completely unlike her.

But to tell the truth, it was thrilling.

Her mouth opened before her brain had fully decided what words to form. With a tone of more confidence than she felt, Hermione tossed the green powder into her Floo and called out –

"Severus Snape!"

The whirling sensation of travelling by Floo rarely caught Hermione off-guard in the past years, but this time, she felt her stomach churn uncomfortably in the few seconds it took to travel in that curious Wizarding way. Abruptly, she felt as though a brick wall was in front of her and she almost cried out, until as quickly as she had felt its presence, it melted away. It was almost like pushing her trolley through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters again, she thought detachedly.

Hermione stumbled across the fireplace with a yelp, managing to right herself in time to avoid crashing into a low coffee table piled with books. In the seconds it took to calm down, Hermione couldn't help but gasp at the shelves and shelves of books that overwhelmed the cosy sitting room. There were so many books. This was heaven. Her fingers trembled with the urge to caress their worn spines, but she caught herself at the sudden sound of boots thumping on the floor.

"Hello?" She called out, her nervousness rapidly building once more. "Severus?"

"Hermione?"

She turned quickly to the doorway, her heat thudding loudly in her chest. At the sight of him, a part of Hermione wanted to sob in relief. It was that damn nightmare, reminding her of the time that they had almost lost him. Severus Snape stood at the door to his sitting room, mouth slightly agape, carrying a teacup and saucer. He was wearing his usual shirt and waistcoat with black trousers, but lacking the billowing robes. Hermione felt a strange shudder run through her at the sight of him without the armour of his dark Wizarding regalia. Now she could see properly his broad shoulders and long, lean frame. Her fingers itched to touch him.

But she didn't, because she caught Severus' face flickering from an initial expression of surprised joy to one of panic. Quickly enough, he settled into his usual impassive countenance, and if not for her work at the MLE making it necessary to hone her skills at reading faces, Hermione might have missed the escaped flashes of emotion. Suddenly she didn't know what to say.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Severus left his teacup and saucer floating in mid-air as he came over to her in long, leggy strides. Again, he sounded worried. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

Hermione tried to play it cool, but she knew without a doubt that a ridiculous smile was creeping over her face. Wait, wasn't she supposed to be angry with him? Be angry, Hermione! "No, no, I'm fine. I just came to…"

A soft tinkling noise from behind Severus made Hermione whip her head around, wand dropping back into her hand before she had fully made the decision to arm herself. Severus turned as well, holding out an arm to stop her from flinging off a spell at whoever was coming.

Hermione's expression had frozen on her face at the sight of somebody standing at the door. It was someone she didn't recognise. A woman - somewhere in her middle years, judging from the small lines on her face, although she wore them well – also carrying a teacup and saucer. She wore a neat blouse and a pair of loose trousers, and her light blonde hair was simply styled to sit just above her shoulders. Unlike Hermione, her hair was straight and smooth, and also unlike Hermione, her figure held soft curves at hip and breast.

Blonde. Curvy. Mature.

She didn't look particularly surprised to see Hermione. Instead, she smiled kindly, lowering her teacup and speaking in a gentle alto voice, "Well, hello. You must be Hermione. My name is Elizabeth."

"Hi." The greeting escaped before Hermione could stop it slipping out of her mouth. To her own ears, her voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. She could feel colour rising to her cheeks.

Oh gods and demons. What am I doing here?

Blood was pounding in her head in a way that drowned out everything else around her. She couldn't bring herself to look at Severus.

"I am so, so sorry. I didn't realise I was interrupting. I should go. I'm sorry." Hermione knew she was babbling but she couldn't help the words from spilling out. Her voice was trembling and she absently cursed herself for sounding so weak.

She turned away from both of them abruptly, realising suddenly that she had tears in her eyes. Dropping more Floo powder into her shaking hands, Hermione stumbled over to the fireplace and watched the Floo roar green once again.

"I'm sorry, I should go." She managed to gasp out.

The last thing she heard before rushing into the Floo was Severus' voice.

"Hermione, wait!"

"Hermione, wait!"

Severus Snape stood in front of his fireplace, mouth still half-open.

She was gone.

He turned to face his visitor, his other visitor. Unlike him, Elizabeth wore an expression of absolute calm. Lifting her teacup to take a sip, she murmured. "Well, that was interesting."

Severus stared at her. She smiled, not seeming to mind that he was uncharacteristically out of words. Seeing that he was still unable to formulate a response after a few moments, Elizabeth's smile widened.

"She seems lovely, Severus."

Well. That's it for now! What do you think is happening?

I'm sorry for having to leave it there… well, not really. Well, maybe a little bit. :D