Author Notes: We all know I love to mess with timelines, press boundaries, and play wicked games with our favorite characters. This is going to be another one of those stories.

Summary: It started with dysfunction from the beginning. Severus Snape, clear-minded and pragmatic, had no one to turn to for this dilemma. Perhaps the detestable witch who passed the laws would have an idea. He was alone. He was a prisoner to his own isolation. It could kill him if he didn't attempt to ask for help.

Obviously, Severus doesn't die. Or at least a physical death. Self-isolation and boxing up old ghosts have a terrible habit of coming back to bite you quite literally in his case.

Hermione hadn't minded the break in her schedule as she paced toward the apothecary for some ingredients. The granola bar she was munching was an oddity in Diagon Alley, but over the years, no one seemed to clamor over Harry Potter's friends, so no one would care to notice.

There was little to note over the many years of peace. Everyone was happy in their own rite. Life held a hum of contentment that lingered over the survivors. Say for the few. Hermione was pleasant, intelligent, and determined, but she was fiber in the latter group. Nothing gave her contentment. The witch was maniacal in her task to right so many wrongs, sometimes to her own detriment.

All of this, she fully acknowledged and agreed to without question. Molly, on occasion, would ruin a pleasant dinner to remind her of her flawed thoughts. No, she was particularly fine with them. There was no need to fake contentment.

Brushing her fingers off on her skirt, she walked into the shop and waved to the older man behind the counter. It was routine. She was fond of routine. The same ingredients every month. The same conversations and even the echo of smiles they gave each other. Everything was managed to perfection, just as she liked it.

Hermione lingered as she thumbed through the different herbs while humming. Swaying to the unknown song in her head, she snagged a jar and then another. It was the substantial arm the raced in front of her to take the last item on her list that shook her from her mind—the last jar.

"I'm in need of that," Hermione spat and turned.

Her eyes grew just a smidge as they touched on the form she wasn't expecting.

"You can return for the resupply," Snape hissed as he pressed it into his bag.

"I spend one of my lunches every week to run errands. This isn't in my schedule to return, Professor," Hermione huffed.

"Schedule," he grimaced. "Unfortunately for you, I must confiscate this ingredient."

Hermione breathed and found a bit of patience. It wasn't often she crossed paths with Severus Snape. No one likely had in years as he lingered on the edge of society. Harry, for lack of a better word, coerced him to come to the Burrow the first year after the war. That went over like blasted-end skewers at an eight-year-old's birthday party.

"I highly doubt you need that ingredient since Hogwarts is out on holiday," Hermione insisted.

Severus's eyes glinted as he narrowed his vision at the witch. "As acute at observations as ever, Miss Granger."

Hermione groaned and tapped her heel tip on the floor as she crossed her arms. "Professor, I am requesting you to please return my ingredient. I require it this evening."

"You're brewing dreamless draughts?" He mused as his expression continued to pinch.

"Yes."

"Then you will be disappointed," he insisted and pivoted on his feet in a flash.

Hermione groaned and paced after him reaching for his arm. "Snape, please," she halted her tongue as he snagged up her wrist.

"Never touch me without permission," he growled as his body towered over the short witch.

Hermione's eyes bulged as she examined the usually even-keeled wizard, snarl with his teeth. She avoided his gaze as her cheeks bloomed with color. "My apologies," she whispered.

The Potion Master tossed her arm aside before striding off to the counter to pay. Hermione was genuinely mortified. She understood his reaction quite clearly; boundaries were her favored way to live as well. When he had finished paying, Snape glanced over at Hermione and softened his expression momentarily before whisking out the door with his robes billowing after him.

That deflated her whole afternoon. Not only was Hermione low on an ingredient she lived by, but she had also offended someone. The end to her work day couldn't come soon enough. Maybe she could seek solace in a book. It wasn't until Hermione cleaned off her coat and slid off her heels that she noticed the rapping. There was an owl with a parcel waiting at her window. Odd.

Retrieving the item and handing the dark owl treats, she set the box on her dining table. Her flat was tiny in comparison to her fiances, but Hermione enjoyed the tight quarters. There was nothing she needed beyond the single bedroom flat.

Untying the package, she snagged up the note and chewed the inside of her cheek.

Miss Granger,

I had a managed to brew ample draughts last month. I apologize for my flared temper and the disregard for your needs. I do intend to use the ingredient for a vital objective, but I hope these suffice your needs.

S.S.

Such an odd wizard. Hermione pulled open the box to see more than enough potions to last the coming weeks. This was vastly more than she would have brewed off that one jar of ingredients. Something didn't feel right about the apology. In fact, nothing felt right about the whole situation.

It was two days later that Hermione found herself wandering into Flourish and Blott's to renew her reading content. Not that it would be difficult for anyone that knew her or of her to see that's where she would be at least once a week.

Honestly, if Hermione had to be forthright, it was the only way she felt a hint of how she used to feel. The wonder and lustful pull of tomes filled with knowledge. It excited her to have a new book, and she often would buy several and force herself to read only one new one a week. It was a form of control and making the fantastic tingling feeling linger.

Today, however, wasn't about drooling over the new publication of Ancient Runes and the History They Reveal. No, today was about finishing up her collection of anything related to Moon phases and magic. The law she passed was fantastic and a stride in the right direction, but it lacked the knowledge base. Before she would transfer departments at the end of the month, Hermione wanted to be sure there was a hardy selection to fall back on.

Her eyes focused as her small digits stroked the spines. The witch was looking for one particular volume, but it seemed to be misplaced.

A skillful hand reached out and took the next book she was debating over. Hermione pivoted and scowled in the slightest before noting who broke her boundaries.

"Professor, we truly have to cease meeting like this," Hermione murmured with the hint of a smile.

Snape thinned his lips and set the book against his arm. "Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

"Afternoon, I see we both have an unusual interest in lunar cycles," Hermione voiced as she shifted on her heels.

He nodded and slightly ducked his chin to view the witch with ease. "A brew I'm attempting requires a bit of research," he conveyed.

"I wanted to thank you for the potions. It was incredibly thoughtful," Hermione mumbled.

Severus grunted and thinned his lips. "Did you manage to learn to become an animagus before or after your bill was written?"

It was an odd question. Quite deliberate and had the appeal of being on his tongue longer than a passing muse. Hermione twitched her nose and pressed her hair from her shoulders. "I had previously obtained that knowledge. Is there something I can answer for you in regards to animagi?"

"Yes," he responded.

Hermione licked her lips and could feel the wave of difficulty breaching their short conversation. "How can I help?"

"To be accurate, you claim that animagi cannot be turned during the full moon in the presence of a werewolf with a bite?" Severus questioned.

Hermione bounced her head. "Yes, I've witnessed it. As long as the animagus is in their animal form, the lunar magic used for such makes werewolf bites ineffective."

"And to be certain, it doesn't alter due to the animagi's form?"

"That is correct. As long as lunar magic is summoned, a werewolf cannot infect the animagi," Hermione murmured and suddenly felt cornered.

He knew all of this. Hermione was positive he knew all of this, and she felt baited into a trap. No, Snape may be odd, but he'd never play coy. Maybe it was loneliness?

Snape hummed and nodded. "Would you spare some time for dinner? I have a few notations I would like to go over in regards to lunar phases and magical sources."

Did he just ask her to dinner? Hermione couldn't hide the bright textures of her cheeks while finding her tongue. He could be telling her the truth, but she highly doubted he wanted her input.

"I will have to check my schedule," Hermione voiced.

The Potion Master took a step closer. "I would genuinely appreciate your remarks."

Hermione felt hunted. She couldn't cease the increase in her heart rate nor the feeling of shock as the bookcase pressed against her shoulder blades. He was in front of her, causing the short witch to crane her neck in an unusual manner to see his face.

"I, it, my schedule," she fumbled as Snape set the book aside.

"Understood," he mused.

He didn't block her escape. Snape's arms remained at his side. However, Hermione felt if she bolted like her instinct was telling her to do, he would follow. The amount of plotting this pragmatic man was doing couldn't be seen as he arched an eyebrow.

"I must," she didn't finish as his expression tightened.

"Tonight?" He pressed.

Hermione ticked at the possibilities and regarded her cautionary warning in her mind. "I have dinner with Harry and Gin tonight," she lied.

The Potion Master twitch his nose as it scrunched. "I'd much rather you be truthful."

"You've cornered me in a bookshop," Hermione retorted.

"You're free to leave when it suits you," he remarked.

Hermione motioned to squeeze by, and Snape cleared his throat. "Tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night," Hermione conceded and bounced off without a book in hand.

Her nerves were shot, and she had to walk off the shaking from adrenaline he caused. What was Severus Snape up to that he was insistent on her presence? What caused her to be so nervous about his intentions? This was not in the schedule.

Harry sipped his drink after Hermione had bustled through the fireplace and sat down to explain the oddity of her afternoon. Saturday was usually a time that she utilized for herself, but after her explanation, it was apparent the witch was frazzled.

"He boxed you in?" Ginny questioned while feeding Albus with a bottle.

Hermione shifted in her chair and huffed. "Not truly. I could have left, but he loomed."

Harry scratched his chin and shrugged. "Well, do you think your fear was in your head? I mean, he has a long history of tormenting you."

The curly-haired witch twitched her nose. "I mean, it could be possible," Hermione admitted. "But it felt very within the moment. No faded memories out to sabotage me."

"Maybe he's lonely? He does keep a fair distance from everyone," Ginny offered with a contorted hint of empathy.

"I thought so too," Hermione agreed.

"He never was one to be sociable," Harry added. "He may not know how to be forward about his request for a meeting of minds."

Hermione took her nail to her mouth and grimaced at the subconscious action. Why did this make her so nervous? "Harry, it was so odd. I haven't felt my nerves bolster to attention in years. Are you positive he isn't doing something, well, unusual?"

Harry scratched his chin and bounced his shoulders. "To be honest, Hermione, we haven't exchanged letters in about three months. He had been caught up with a project, and I don't interrupt or intrude. The fact that he asked you to go and review his work, er, it's shocking."

"Could it be something to do with animagi? He was insistent on his questioning," Hermione said.

"It could be," Harry agreed. "What if he's working on a potion to create a better way to become one?"

"Or," Ginny interrupted. "He's lonely for an intelligent mind and knows Hermione's work. I don't doubt with how off the norm Snape is, he would impose his own project to assist. He was never vocal about his achievements to assist others."

Hermione eased and rocked her head. "That's true. This means, whatever he is working on, it cannot be disguised, so he had to ask for a quiet setting. Alright, I feel much better about this."

"I know you have little love for him, Hermione, but just remember he's broken too," Harry sighed.

"Mummy!" James called from the other room, and Harry stood.

Harry disappeared to assist the toddler from his crib after his nap, leaving the witches. Ginny rocked as she set the empty bottle down. "I want to believe Harry when he says Snape has changed, but in case he hasn't, don't forget about keeping your guard up," Ginny whispered.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You think he's hiding something as well?"

"Call it witches' intuition, but I don't think it was random that he found you in Blott's. Whatever he wants, it isn't just to go over notations," Ginny grumbled.

"I'll be safe about it. Keep the coin in your pocket?" Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded as Harry returned. "Alright, who wants lunch?"

"I could use a cuppa and some lunch," Hermione agreed.

Her unscheduled afternoon with the Potters went into the evening. It eased her a decent portion until she was alone in her flat. Should she prepare for the worst or hope for the best? The witch still hadn't decided as she climbed into bed. Severus Snape. What was he up to?