3 and 1/2 weeks previous (1 week post battle of Hogwarts):

Hermione sat, unblinking, on the couch in front of the warm fireplace in the corner of the library. Her mind drifted, unbidden, again, to that night. She saw herself, on her knees, blinking back tears, frantically wracking her brain to conjure a flask, receptacle, anything, to help Harry catch their professors tears before her mind registered she had flasks in her purse. Finally catching up to her thoughts, she pulled out the flask with a quick accio, and watched Harry collect her former professors memories via his tears. Task over, her mind drifted back a few months…

(2 months previous to the final battle):

She had been startled out of her deep, dreamless sleep. HARRY! her mind instantly poured cold water over itself, and made her body leap off its cot. Taking less than 2 seconds to familiarize herself with her surroundings- she realized she was still in the tent, Harry on watch, no Ron to be found (or thought of at this point, she reminded herself). Harry was on watch, she remembered, and tried to settle back to sleep. But something was off. Something didn't smell right? Feel right? Her sleepiness fell off around her with that last thought, and she peeked out of the tent, determined to find Harry sleeping or just herself being paranoid and ready to return to the semi-comfort of her cot in this protected tent.

But to her horror, Harry was not standing sentry at the tree. He was not safe in its branches, nor hiding among its concaves. She could not feel him inside the shelter of her wards. Was that what had woken her? Had she felt him shift the wards as he left? Had he left her alone? She fought down her panic like a case of indigestion. Rational thought, she thought. Maybe he went to relieve himself, she thought. Maybe—all of a sudden, she saw a shift so slight to her wards, so slight if she hadn't been looking in just that place in just that time, she would never have seen it. Harry? But no. This tasted different. Smelt familiar, like an itch she had been longing to scratch, but sweeter, like a dream she had all but forgotten.

She knew instinctively that she had been revealed to whatever was lurking. She was being watched, even as she was watching. But, as she had learned early to trust her instincts as a witch, instead of relying on what others expected of her, she tasted the intentions of her watcher. No malice, no cruel intent- it was curious, studying her as she would have studied for a test at Hogwarts. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Curious, she sniffed the air. Whatever it was, it was just as curious as she.

The second she dropped her fear to indulge in her curiosity, she suddenly felt a relaxing sensation, and had an immediate urge to seek out this new sensation to her wards- knew instinctively it was not here to harm her, even in Harrys absence. She knew she would have to make the first move. She briefly thought of grabbing Headmaster Black's portrait to see if he had any advice or insight (as he had not led her astray so far, surprisingly. But then again, Slytherins always did have their OWN interests at heart, so she reasoned that if she and Harry were on the wrong path, Headmaster Black would let it immediately be known, as he had no interest as his future as kindling under the Dark Lord's tenure at Hogwarts).

As she made up her mind to step out of the tent and closer to the blood wards she had drawn up, she knew instinctively it was not Ron. She would know in a heartbeat if it was Ron. Not because of anything magical, but because this was a more powerful attack on her magical senses. She burned. She could taste the power, the aura of a magical signature she had not tasted or smelt since her time at Hogwarts. As he stepped from the shadow of the majestic oak she and Harry used as their sentry tower, she placed the scent at once— so his voice was only a slight surprise for her.

"Ms. Granger. Indeed, a fortunate surprise. I had hoped to still find you here after I sent Potter on his quest for a most valuable item." Her heart and breath froze for an instant of time where her mind frantically calculated whether or not Snape would be received as enemy or friend. In the end, her rational mind won out, after realizing he could have killed her easily anytime before now if he had already breached her wards.

As her eyes made him out of the darkness and trees in the midnight moonlight, a mere shadow amongst the forest, he moved towards her, hands up in an act of supplication, and slowed as he got within 10 feet of her. "Ms. Granger, I come in peace" he said, slowly coming into the light of her Lumos. "My wand is in my robes; and if you stay calm, there will be no move to use it."

She had pulled her wand instinctively, but was now wavering between thought of "What the FUCK are you thinking? He KILLED Dumbledore?!", and "He has no reason to show himself. He could have killed me in my sleep as easily as he breached my wards better than a snatcher could do when I was 2 feet away." The last thought won out, and she cautiously lowered her wand. Truth be told, she was so so tired of the fight. If he managed to trick her into a nefarious plot, then she wasn't a witch worth making it to the end of the war. But her gut still told her otherwise, that she should hear him out, no matter the consequences.

He stepped into a moonlit patch between the oak and her tent and smirked in a way so familiar it was comforting. "Hello, you infuriating Know-it-all," he said, in a voice she was certain she had never heard from him before—if she wasn't mistaken, it had a hint of familiarity and gladness to it. Her breath wooshed out in a huff, and after a moment she smiled.

"Hello Professor. Funny meeting you here. Out for a constitutional this lovely evening? Or has everyone's favorite Slytherin Headmaster been keeping you informed of our plans? If it makes it even, we've been listening to news about you on the wireless. Seems you got a promotion in our absence. Are congratulations in order, of is there another reason you've come?"