This was stupid. Absolutely stupid.

Her toes were already freezing as, in her exhausted state, she had forgone her socks, but couldn't bring herself to care enough to turn back. She did have enough sense however to throw on her robe; a quite soft little thing, though the chill of Grimmauld still seemed to permeate her skin as if she were bare.

Crossing her arms, she huffed as again she cursed the cold night air and her very un-Hermione-like behavior. Although it was nearing the end of May and only a few weeks away now until summer, the nights would still get down to borderline freezing.

She was a planner, a thinker- unlike her Gryffindor counterparts, she didn't like to act on impulse.

But tonight, it seemed to be necessary.

Although his room was only a few doors down from hers, her effort it took to not render one sound ended up making it quite a long trip; the floorboards and rails creaked endlessly throughout the ancient decrepit house, and if Sirius's mum heard…she shivered, frowning at the thought of the old witch's shrill shrieking. She didn't particularly want to hear that at three in the morning to be perfectly honest, thankyouverymuch, and she was positive the other occupants of the house felt the same.

One occupant in particular was going to be absolutely and undoubtedly irritated with her in just a few moments. She thought again of how thoroughly idiotic this was. He had to be sleeping.

Of course he was.

'It is three in the ruddy morning, you daft cow,' she thought to herself bitterly.

As she slowly crept by Ron's room she could quite clearly hear his guttural snores. Even through the thick, wooden door it sounded as if she could be sleeping in the same bleeding room. No wonder she couldn't sleep!

But then, could he?

She stopped. Maybe she couldn't do this. Shouldn't do this.

This was…risky.

He was, after all, a man- a very grown man. He was not some teenaged boy that would be delighted to see her, waiting up for her in the dead of night to sneak around and hide from the others.

She was quite sure he would be the direct opposite of delighted, in fact.

She wasn't sure that word had ever been in his vocabulary; except, she thought, when perhaps he had antagonized poor students.

What was she even doing? This was highly inappropriate-

Suddenly, her toes had landed on a noisy piece of floor board, squeaking almost as loud as Ron's breathing. She stopped, her eyes widening then scrunching closed. She pursed her lips and held her breath, waiting for any signs of life from the other residents. Counting to ten and opening one eye, she breathed a sigh of relief. Silence.

'Wait…perhaps that isn't a good-'

Ron's door slowly opened, and before she could cast a quick disillusionment spell he spotted her.

She first saw his bright, messy hair, then his face. He peeked around the wood.

"Hermione?" he whispered. "What you doing?"

"Um…," she watched him rub his eyes, watching her skeptically, "I was just…going downstairs for some tea…maybe read a bit…couldn't sleep, you see, and…"

"Alright, alright. Try and get some sleep though, yeah?"

She smiled ruefully, "Thanks, Ron. I'll try."

Obviously, he wouldn't know he was the source of her restlessness. But at least he was still concerned when it came to her, as much as they hadn't worked out after the battle.

He turned, yawning, closing the door softly behind him. Within a few moments, she heard his loud breathing once more. It made her quite jealous. How could so many men fall asleep as soon as their head hit the pillow?

She thought it might be awkward, living with him after they opted being just friends was a better decision. To her relief though it wasn't so terrible; Ron seemed to be his usual cheerful self, though it had taken a few weeks for him to come out of his despair at his brother's death. He had even begun writing another witch he had met at a quidditch match. She was happy for him, truly.

She also thought it might be strange sharing a home with both Harry and Ginny. It was obvious they would be engaged and possibly buying their own home soon with the money Harry's parents had left him. Hermione didn't really blame him for wanting a different house than the dreary, grim one Sirius had grown up in. Molly was even encouraging it, dropping hints to Harry every so often. It was very rare for Hermione to stumble upon one of them without the other.

'Luckily,' she mused as she tip-toed by their door, 'they have enough sense to put silencing charms on their room.'

Molly didn't approve of them sleeping together while they were still unwed, but Harry had simply told Hermione that what she didn't know, wouldn't hurt her. Hermione had merely told him to be careful.

'Perhaps I should take my own advice.'

She crept by Remus and Tonks' room, then Molly and Arthur's, then Ginny's empty one. Besides him, the rest of the Weasley's and the Order slept downstairs.

She wasn't sure if she liked living with almost every member of the Order. Sometimes it was too loud and she felt almost claustrophobic. But besides the Weasley's and perhaps most of the Hogwarts professors…her, Harry, and a couple others had nowhere else to go for the moment. Unlike her, Harry and Ron didn't plan on going back to school for their missed seventh year and instead planned on joining the Auror program straight away, as Kingsley had generously offered them positions they couldn't refuse. Kingsley had offered her a position at the Ministry as well, but Hermione had balked at the idea of theoretically not graduating from Hogwarts. Her parents were still in Australia with no memory of her existence. Kingsley, the now Minister of Magic, had suggested they stay in hiding for a couple of months until Voldemort's remaining followers had been rounded up and shipped off to Azkaban. They had briefly debated shifting everyone to the Burrow, but quickly realized that, no matter how many expansion charms they used, it never seemed big enough to house everyone.

So, for the time being- at least, until September- she was stuck with the Weasley's. She wasn't even sure still what she wanted to do with the rest of her life as she hadn't had much time to think on it with the war occupying most of her thoughts and emotions. She supposed- or hoped, rather- that she would figure it out as she went along this school year. Maybe she could apprentice under one of the professors this year…or perhaps she could be an arithmancer, or possibly a mediwitch.

One thing was for sure- she did not want to be an auror; she'd had enough action in the last year for an entire lifetime.

Her thoughts came to a halt as, finally, she had reached his door. For what felt like an hour she knew it had only been a few minutes since her possibly poor and regretful judgment.

She raised her fist, then halted, thinking how knocking was possibly the least intelligent thing she could do right now.

Trying the knob, she abruptly realized it had been locked. Apparently, he still didn't trust anyone. Of course, she didn't blame him while they were living under the same roof as George Weasley. The same as Ron, he was quite depressed after the passing of Fred, and still was sometimes, but his pranking had come back in full swing within the past week.

Slipping her wand from her sleeve she whispered, 'Alohomora.' She tried again. Still locked. She tried another spell and this time the lock clicked. Holding her breath, she turned the metal handle gradually, slowly stepping into his domain.

It was almost pitch black, there were no windows, but after a moment her eyes adjusted. Immediately in front of her was a dresser, to its left was a desk stacked high with his books and some parchment and quills. An old, small wing-back chair sat in front of it that he must have brought up from the Black library, as it looked familiar. Besides another small nightstand to her left, there was nothing really else to his small room.

Her eyes landed on his bed. She immediately saw his form, facing the wall with his back to her. She watched the covers rise and fall with his light breaths. She crept closer still; her foot falls soft on the wooden floor. Finally, finally, she was here.

Now that she was next to his bed, she now saw the duvet had slipped down across his waist and that he was shirtless. Her face suddenly burned. Even though she was simply staring at his back and nothing…too private…she had still never seen his bare skin before. The stern professor kept himself and his body quite closed off from the world.

'Oh Merlin, I never thought he might sleep…naked.'

She swallowed. 'Well, now what.'

She reached out a slightly shaking hand, gently grabbing the covers and slipping them down. She closed her eyes, and as she figured the cover was down far enough, slowly opened them.

She breathed a sigh of relief. He was wearing pants!

His breathing suddenly paused, and she stopped, waiting.

He shifted slightly, but didn't change his position. She saw his body gently rise and fall with his breaths again, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

For a moment, she simply studied him. His shoulder length, black hair fell nearly to his pale shoulder blades, which stuck out sharply against the shadows. Quite the contrast, that. But she supposed his dark hair and pallid complexion complimented his personality rather nicely and was reasonably fitting. His spine stuck out somewhat, and she was suddenly struck with how thin he was. Now that she thought about it…the poor man rarely came down for one of Molly's meals and if he ever did, ate scarcely.

For a moment she thought about running her finger along his back, but stopped herself at the ridiculous thought.

'More ridiculous than being here?' she thought.

It was a risk, she knew. She wasn't even sure why she wanted to come to him, and now, at all times. Talk to him? She never really had since before the battle. The rare times she saw him, he would find subtle ways to touch her; any time he handed her something their fingers would make contact, and, unlike the others, he didn't pull away as if burned. Any time he would try and get around her his hand would rest against the small of her back. As far as she knew he never attempted to touch…anyone, even if trying to maneuver himself around a cramped kitchen. And then there were his…observations. Almost every time she did see him, if she happened to glance his way, he was already looking at her with contemplation. And once she caught his gaze, he would quickly look away with what appeared to be a…slight pink staining his cheeks.

If she didn't know any better she might think the professor…fancied her.

At first she had written it off as her imagination. 'I mean, it's Professor Snape!' she told herself. 'If he even were to fancy anyone, why would it be me? I'm nothing more than one of his annoying ex-students…not even ex if he continues to teach this year! Also one of Harry's best friends to boot…not even that pretty…'

She was interrupted from her deprecating thoughts by Snape moving once again, and this time, he turned. Hermione's eyes widened. 'Oh.' He was now lying on his back.

'Goodness this is strange. I never thought I would be looking at Professor Snape's nipples but well…here we are.'

She thought they were quite nice though, flat and dark in color. He didn't have much hair on his chest but then, that was okay with her. He wasn't muscular but she figured lean and sinewy was a better word. She rather liked his top half. Her mind then helpfully supplied the words bottom half and she flushed deeply. While studying his torso, she hadn't even seen his dark eyes watching her.

"Herm…Miss Granger?"

She had nearly jumped a mile.

He was now sat up slightly, most of his weight leaning on his arm.

"Professor Snape! I…I'm sorry I'll just…go…must've been…sleep walking…"

He watched her curiously back out of the room, her hand reaching behind her searching for the handle. Once there, she turned and almost ran back to her cramped room, the other people sleeping be damned. She almost made it, until she felt fingers gently clasp around her wrist.

"Granger, are you alright?"

She swiftly turned, her eyes wide. As much as she was surprised he had followed her, and how quick he had been, it didn't compare to how floored she was that he had actually asked her such a question.

"I…fine…I just…um," her eyes fell, "was about to head downstairs…and then-"

"You're lying," he stated. His eyes searched hers probingly, looking her up and down.

He was so much taller than her; she had never realized while in school but with him right in front of her…

"What were you doing in my rooms? Some childish prank George Weasley put you up to?"

"No! I…"

"Miss Granger, if you do not explain yourself this instant I am not above using legilimency."

Oh gods. 'Great job, Hermione. You've done it now. You can either tell him or have him search your mind. No escaping this one.'

Before she could utter any excuses he was delving into her mind. He was quick, as she didn't even have a chance to block him. He retreated, reeling back from her.

For a while they simply gawked at the other, neither knowing what to say. Hermione stared at her feet, while Snape studied her once again. Finally he spoke.

"I am not returning to Hogwarts as a professor."

"No? Oh, well…I am disappointed to hear that, sir."

"Indeed?" he asked her, one eyebrow raised.

"You were always quite the challenge to impress, Professor."

He was silent for a moment, and she almost figured the conversation was over until he muttered, "Severus."

"What?"

"You may now call me Severus. I am no longer your professor, so I see no reason to keep the formalities."

"Oh! Then, um, Hermione, then." She smiled up at him shyly.

There was another awkward pause.

"Hermione…being as it is a bit cramped in this…lovely…abode…would you…permit me to take you out to dinner tomorrow evening?"

She grinned. "I think I would like that Severus."

A/N: Yeah...just a plot bunny that wouldn't leave me. Wasn't really sure where I was going with it. But hey! First story in a few years! Hope everyone's been doing good! :)