Entry tags:

at the edge of the world, gift fic, ss/hg exchange

At the Edge of the World - Part Two
Summary: They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone. Hermione's always been a smart woman; can she figure it what she's about to lose before it is too late?
Rating: PG
A/N -Originally posted here, At the Edge of the World was gift for scatteredlogic from the Winter 2008 sshg_exchange. Original Prompt: Hermione has been working with Snape for a few years (author's choice of profession) and realizes that she's falling for him. Before she decides what to do about it, he begins dating someone else (again, author's choice). Hermione has to take action before she loses her chance. How she does it, and how he reacts is up to the author.

The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowlings, I don't own any of it. "Edge of the World" is the title of a song by the band Runrig, written about the St Kilda archipelago in Scotland, and I have shamelessly appropriated it for my fic.



At the Edge of the World - Part Two

Enid Lynch.

Hermione rubbed her temples in the hope of relieving some of the pressure from a threatening headache. She didn’t have time to deal with a headache — she had work to finish before she could leave for the evening, and she had agreed to meet Severus to discuss his request from the night before.

The one where he asked her to help him figure out how to court Enid Lynch. The completely insane request that she had somehow ended up agreeing to consider.

As if she would know what sorts of things would attract another woman. She had told him as much, still utterly gobsmacked and barely able to form a coherent – if shrill – sentence. “I have every faith in you,” he replied.

And then he had done something so sneaky, so underhanded, so Slytherin...

He had thanked her for listening to him and said that if she would at least think about what he’d asked, he would be most grateful. Then he had reached out to grasp one of her hands and gently squeeze it, said her name in that smooth voice of his, and told her that he hadn’t had many friendships in his life, but he liked to think that he could call her "friend." He had looked so sincere and, for just the tiniest moment, vulnerable.

Her agreement to consider it came tumbling from her lips before she even realized what she was saying. Severus, being Severus, had seized upon the small victory, said goodnight and disappeared out the door before Hermione could find a way to backtrack.

"I got played, plain and simple," she muttered under her breath as she tidied up her desk for the night.

Even knowing it was probably just a ruse designed to play on her soft heart, Hermione knew she wouldn't tell him she had changed her mind.

She had always been a sucker for a pair of sad eyes.

Crookshanks' fluffy, flat face and deep brown-gold eyes came to mind, and Hermione smiled as she remembered her long-gone friend. He had been a good cat, sweet and affectionate in his own, cantankerous way. Loyal to his dying day, but perfectly willing to express his displeasure with a growl or a sharp swipe of his claws. Much like Severus.

Her lips twitched as she realized that she had inadvertently compared her friend to her old familiar. "I doubt Severus Snape would be half as willing to endure a belly rub and a cuddle just to cheer me up."

"You'll never know unless you ask, Miss Granger."

Hermione started, nearly knocking her "out" basket off the top of her desk. Severus stood in the doorway of her office, looking annoyingly amused.

Embarrassment made her tone sharp. "I'm getting you a bell."

Severus merely smirked and tilted his head toward the empty lab outside her office. "Your entire staff has left for the weekend, so I thought you might be close to being done. If not, I could probably find something to keep myself busy for a bit longer."

"I thought we agreed to meet at my place in half an hour?" She stood and crossed the small room to retrieve her down coat from the hook next to the door. Severus had been carrying his own coat and began to pull it on.

"Actually, I did some thinking after I left you last night -"

"You've changed your mind?" she interrupted, relief apparent in her voice.

"No, I haven't. As I was saying, I thought it would be more practical if we convened at my cottage this evening."

Curiosity warred with the desire to try to alleviate some of what was sure to be an awkward evening with the comfort of her own, familiar home.

"I will, of course, be willing to provide dinner if you will agree to the change in venue."

Satisfy your curiosity, get a free meal, listen to him for a bit, and then tell him no. What can it hurt?

"You cook?" Hermione asked with an obvious tone of disbelief as they made their way through the mostly deserted building.

"It may have escaped your notice, Miss Granger, but Hirta is not known for its four-star restaurants. Yes, I cook, as I had no desire to live off of pot noodles and crisps for the past decade."

Severus' cottage was located on the outskirts of the community, the farthest residential building from the center of the complex. Hermione suspected that had been a deliberate choice on someone's part. The wind and bracing cold had made conversation impossible during the fifteen-minute walk. By the time that Severus had opened his front door and ushered her in, Hermione felt as if she were nearly frozen.

His cottage was a twin to hers, architecturally speaking. They shared the same floor plan, as did almost all of the one-bedroom residences, but that was where the similarities ended. She favored dark colors and lots of shelving for her books and photos. Severus' living room was filled with comfortable-looking seating, lots of light and a fireplace that sprang to life the minute they walked through the door. He had bookshelves of his own, but they weren't the focal point of the space.

There was also the most delicious aroma in the air.

She sniffed appreciatively as Severus hung up her coat. "What smells so good?"

"Pot noodles and crisps," he deadpanned.

Dinner was actually a succulent roast with new potatoes, onions and carrots, followed by coffee in the living room. She was still cradling the warm mug between her hands, trying to come up with the best way to tell him that she wasn't going to help him, when Severus stood and held out his hand toward her.

"It's time to start."

Hermione looked from his hand to his face. "Start what?"

Severus smirked and offered his hand once more. "The time to back out would have been before you ate the dinner I so diligently prepared, Hermione."

Damn it. He was getting far too good at that, using her name at just the right moment to throw her off.

She set her mug on the coffee table and reached for his hand. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Severus."

His name was barely past her lips before Severus hauled her off the couch with enough force that Hermione ended up momentarily plastered against his chest. She regained her footing and glared at him. "What was that?"

Severus released her and took a step back, his expression suspiciously blank. "I apologize. I must have miscalculated the amount of effort required to move you. This way."

Hermione stared after his retreating form for a moment, speechless, then hurried to catch up. "Did you just imply that you thought I was fat?" She realized where they were before he had a chance to formulate a response. "Why are we in your bedroom, Mr. Snape?"

He continued across the room, walking around the large bed that dominated most of the floor space and completely ignoring her first question. Severus pulled open the closet door. "Have a seat. This could take awhile."

The only seating option in the room was the bed.

Any other man and Hermione would have assumed they were up to something, the entire "courting of Enid Lynch" nonsense notwithstanding, but this was Snape. Still, when she did lower herself to perch on the edge of the mattress, there was barely an inch of her rear in actual contact with the duvet. One wrong step in her direction and she would be off the bed and ready to lay down some ground rules in a heartbeat.

Get over yourself.

She did feel a tad ridiculous when Severus turned to say something and ended up smirking at her careful balancing act, but he kept his thoughts to himself on the matter.

"You still haven't told me what it is we're doing in here."

"I would have thought that was self-evident. I'm obviously attempting to seduce you -" Shock kept her immobile, fingers digging into the bedcover while her brain debated fight or flight, run or react. Severus stepped into his closet, then came out carrying several shirts, which he placed on the bed next to her. "By luring you into my boudoir to ask for your opinion of my wardrobe. Isn't that how all the great Lotharios began? By offering themselves up for 'honest criticism' and ridicule?" He continued to pull more clothing out of the closet.

I am not disappointed. I'm not.

"You want my opinion on how you dress? Why?"

She heard the sound of hangers returning to a bar, deep in the closet, and then Severus reappeared, empty-handed. He leaned against the bedroom wall. "I am not unaware that my ... style has remained virtually unchanged for the past several decades, and that I was not what one would call 'fashionable' even then. Fabrics and colors that served me well during my tenure at Hogwarts are not exactly eye-catching or attractive to the opposite sex."

"I wouldn't have said 'unchanged.' I haven't seen a single frock coat since I arrived on the island," Hermione teased.

"I'm delighted that you find this so amusing." He sounded anything but. "However, your amusement is only illustrating my point. I want the witch that I desire to find me desirable in return, Hermione."

"I wish you would stop doing that." Hermione mentally berated herself for letting that slip out. Especially when Severus arched his brow inquisitively.

"Doing what?"

She would rather pull out her own teeth than admit that the way he said her name could make her stomach tighten and tingle in a not-completely-unpleasant manner. "Stop putting yourself down like that. Don't deny it," Hermione rushed to cut him off, seeing the mutinous expression on his face. "Ron used to do the same thing, put himself down all the time, until I realized he was doing it so that his friends would rush in and tell him how great he was."

Severus looked aghast at being compared to Ron Weasley, as well he should. "That is not - I would never -"

"I don't think I've ever seen you at a loss for words before." Hermione made herself comfortable on the bed, drawing one leg up under the other, but careful to keep her shoe off of Severus' bedding. "I'm sure that wasn't your intent," she offered, generously.

Her fingers toyed with the material of his shirts, and Hermione realized that contrary to what she would have assumed - if she had bothered to really consider the matter before now - they were rather soft, and not all of them were black or white. There were greens and blues, and even one dark shade that could have passed for eggplant in the right light.

"Look, do you want someone to like you because of your clothes, or because of you?"

There was still a trace of annoyance in his face, but he continued to lean casually against the wall. "What I would prefer is for someone to - to use your rather simplistic word choice - to 'like' me. Period. Nearly fifty years of being myself has netted me two psychotic overlords, a plethora of deranged and/or narcissistic associates and an appalling lack of long-term romantic entanglements. I don't see anything wrong with attempting to stack the deck in my favor at this stage of the game."

She lifted the sleeve of one of the shirts up and smiled. "I think you already have, at least a bit. I wasn't kidding about the frock coat. Well, I was, but I was serious, too. The Severus Snape I remember from Hogwarts wouldn't have been caught without his full armor, much less be seen wearing something as scandalous as purple."

"It's aubergine."

"It's nice." Hermione looked at him, really looked at him. "I think you're fine just the way you are. Any woman should be proud to be associated with you." She felt it would be best if she didn't voice the rest of that thought - that if Enid Lynch couldn't be happy with Severus as is, she didn't deserve him.

Severus looked as if he didn't believe her. "You can't honestly expect me to believe there isn't anything about me that you would wish changed, if given the chance."

"If someone had asked me that fifteen or twenty years ago," she snorted. "Then you were the great bat in the dungeons, and you could intimidate the living heck out of me. You were quite often rude, almost always abrasive and I don't think I remember ever seeing you smile. Really smile, not that sneering thing you used to do whenever Malfoy or Parkinson managed to answer a question without resorting to sticking their noses too far up your bum."

Hermione stopped playing with his shirts and offered him a soft smile of her own. "You're different now. Don't get me wrong, you're not Mister Perfect, but you smile once in awhile, and I'm pretty sure I even heard you laugh last month when Mortimer managed to hit me with that botched charm."

She thought his lips twitched upward, ever so slightly. "You were a most unflattering shade of puce until well after lunch, if I remember correctly," Severus offered.

"It was a horrid color," she conceded. "My point is, if you were to suddenly start wearing bright colors and the latest styles, or offered toothy smiles and casual compliments, you wouldn't really be you."

Looking at him, standing there as he listened to her speak, Hermione realized just how badly he seemed to want companionship. If there truly was anything she could do to help him find it, it would be selfish of her not to try.

"If you're still set on dating, don't try to change yourself. That will only end in disaster because eventually you'll just end up reverting back to the Severus Snape we've all come to know and - tolerate.

"Instead, we'll focus on other things. Date ideas, topics to avoid over dinner, certain opinions you might want to hold off on expressing until at least the second date, things like that."

There was silence for a moment, then Severus pushed away from the wall. "You're the woman, and in this case that makes you far more knowledgeable than myself. Until Saturday next, then?"

"What's the 24th?"

"You and I are going on a date, Miss Granger."

-8-

As dates go, Hermione had been on better.

Well, one that was better.

She smiled at the memory of that first, perfect real date with Ron. The war was over, the Wizarding World had been saved, and suddenly Hermione and Ron were just two teenagers, newly in love. He had waited weeks to ask her out; she had begun to worry that he'd never work up the nerve. She had bought a new dress for the evening, and he'd shown up in a suit borrowed from one of his brothers. The restaurant had been overpriced, the food mostly tasteless. They got caught in the rain on the walk home, and she'd been shivering so hard she thought her teeth might crack by the time Ron took her hand and pulled her close enough to press his lips against hers. Hermione could have walked on air when she finally said goodnight and disappeared into her parents' house. Ron had tried so hard to orchestrate the perfect evening to impress her, too hard, and all Hermione had needed to make it the most perfect night of her young life was to be in his arms.

All right, the best and the worst date I'd ever been on, simultaneously.

Her afternoon with Severus been nothing like that first date with Ron.

The plan had been that Severus would handle the details, organize the entire thing as if he were planning a real date, and afterward Hermione would offer her critique.

She hadn't expected that he would actually want her to spend the afternoon with him.

She hadn't expected that she would want to.

Severus had arrived in the middle of the afternoon and refused to tell her what they were doing, merely urging her to bundle up for the cold and snow. When they stepped out her front door and Severus wrapped his arms around her, Hermione thought she detected a trace of warmth that had nothing to do with her coat, scarf, cap and gloves, and everything to do with him.

She didn't know which was more unsettling, the Side-Along Apparition or the unexpected, tingling warmth.

He had brought them to the water, near a snow-encrusted outcropping of rocks that overlooked the ocean. They had stood in silence for several long moments, marveling in the raw beauty of untouched nature.

Before the chill had a chance to become too overwhelming, Severus led her to a large, flat, weather-worn rock. He unsheathed his wand and, with a determined word, blew the light covering of snow from its surface. A flannel blanket had been produced, along with a basket of food and a Thermos of hot cocoa.

Hermione liked that he'd asked her to cast the charms necessary to keep them warm, saying that he wished to defer to her expertise even though she knew full well that he was more than capable of doing an adequate job of it himself. She thought he scowled, just a bit, when she told him so, pointing out that Enid would probably appreciate similar sincere flattery over trite compliments about her appearance or some other nonsense.

After that, there had been a long, nearly uncomfortable silence as they nibbled on the finger foods Severus had packed and watched the waves beat against the rocky shore far below where they sat. Hermione had wondered what she could have said to offend him so.

Eventually, he spoke, gesturing toward a door-shaped opening high in the rocks. "What do you know of the Mistress Stone, Miss Granger?"

She had been ashamed to realize that even after six years on Hirta, she had never bothered to visit the local landmark. "Not much, really. I've heard of it, but I don't think I even know how it got its name."

Severus had smirked then, turning to face her briefly. There had been a hint of amusement in his face, a warmth in his eyes that had made her catch her breath. "If only we had a witness so that I could have proof that my little know-it-all doesn't actually know everything."

It was the shock of being called his anything that kept her from immediately protesting the annoying nickname, and by the time she'd found her voice, he had returned to contemplating the rocks.

"From what I understand, there was an old custom amongst the people who used to live on St Kilda. When a young couple wished to marry, the man - for it is almost always the male who ends up doing something rash and dangerous in these sorts of stories, is it not? The young man would come out to this place, and climb out onto the rocks to stand in that opening. He would balance precariously on one leg, with most of his body hanging out over the gully below, in order to prove himself worthy of the affection of his lady love, his mistress."

Severus had turned to meet her eye once more. "Hence the name, I'm sure."

"Well, that seems a bit reckless. I would think it would be difficult to get married if you've plummeted to your death."

"It would put a damper on the engagement, yes." He'd given her one of his Snape smirks, and Hermione had laughed in reply. The earlier awkwardness disappeared as if it had never been, and the rest of the afternoon had passed in pleasant conversation and amusing anecdotes until there was no more cocoa left in the Thermos and Hermione's warming charms were threatening to fail.

As they had packed away their trash, Severus had asked her if his "date" had passed the test.

"Definitely earned an 'O.' Have you thought about how you're going to approach her?"

Severus had stared at her for a moment, his expression oddly blank. "What do you mean?"

"You can't just tell someone that they are going on a date with you." Hermione ignored his grumbled "It worked well enough with you."

"You said you wanted my advice on how to get the girl. Do you want my help or not?"

His lips had twisted into his familiar scowl, but Hermione thought she saw a hint of mischief behind his eyes and in the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Please, Professor Granger, continue with your lesson."

"Fine, Mister Smartypants. Show me what you're going to do. Ask me out. And don't half-arse it, either. Make it good."

He'd reached for one of her hands, gently pulling her glove from her fingers. "As you pointed out, it would be unwise to simply make my intentions known without first making the effort to see if my advances might be welcome. I would want to attempt to nurture a - friendship between her and myself. If we could not be friends, then how could I ever hope that we would be happy with anything more?"

Her hand had been grasped between both of his, warm and firm. "Then, once I had reason to believe that she could find me as appealing as I find everything about her ... I would take her hand, like so, and look into her eyes." She'd actually held her breath as Severus leaned forward and compelled her to meet his gaze.

"There are those who might think that I have a way with words, that I always know exactly what to say, but not now, not in this instance. You - the thought of spending time with you, of getting closer to you, it can strip me of those words. What I would like to say, were I able, is that I would be honored if you would join me for dinner, grant me a chance to enchant you, as you have enchanted me."

It had been too cold to melt into a puddle, but Hermione had thought it to be a near thing. Then he spoiled the moment by releasing her hand and smirking. "Well? What do you think? Too flowery?"

The next few weeks seemed no different than the last few years - on the surface - but to Hermione there was something off, something that she just couldn't put her finger on at first.

They continued to meet for lunch several times a week. They had even been joined by Enid Lynch four or five times. Her presence unsettled Hermione.

There was nothing wrong with the older woman; she seemed nice enough. Intelligent. Attractive, but not so pretty as to make an average girl feel inferior.

Watching Enid and Severus talk over chicken and Yorkshire pudding in the mess tended to make Hermione's stomach feel like it was full of rocks. It wasn't that they excluded her from their conversations — to the contrary, they both made a point to ask her a question if she was quiet.

It wasn't long before Hermione realized that she didn't want to share what she considered "their time," didn't like the how Severus looked at Enid when she said something witty, didn't want to think of what his new friendship would lead to.

Hermione was jealous.

"Hermione? Hello, Earth to Hermione. Sorry to interrupt, but I've finished documenting the Lyndgrove experiment. Did you need me to do anything else before I took off?"

Aware that she'd just been caught woolgathering, Hermione looked up to greet one of her staff, flicking her gaze toward the desk clock to see just how long she'd been off in her own little world. "That should be it, Mortimer. In a hurry to start your weekend?"

"Oh yes. Megan from Human Resources said she'd meet me for dinner tonight, if I promised her a dance at the party tomorrow. You going to be there?"

She opened her mouth to tell him no, that a Valentine dance really wasn't her cup of tea, and froze.

Severus will be there.

With Enid.

Yes, but not with Enid. Not yet.

"I might pop in for a bit, just to say hello to everyone outside the labs. If I don't see you, have a good time tomorrow night."

"You too, Hermione!" The gangly lab assistant disappeared from view, and Hermione hurried to pack up her things and follow suit.

-8-

Someone had outdone themselves.

The mess had been transformed into an obscene confection in shades of white, pink, red and purple that would have rivaled Albus Dumbledore's most sugar-coated dream.

Hermione quickly shrugged out of her coat before she could change her mind. She carefully hung it up next to the door, running her hands over her hair. A grimace crossed her lips as her fingers encountered wind-tossed, fly-away curls instead of the carefully crafted chignon that she had left the house with.

At least she managed to keep from falling into a snowbank on the way to the party. Someone had thoughtfully cleared the paths in the complex of most of the snow, but Hermione's heels were not really meant to provide adequate traction on a frozen pathway.

They did make her calves look fabulous, though.

That thought cheered her and wiped the scowl from her face.

It took a few moments to find Severus, hidden, predictably, in the corner farthest from the dance floor. He was seated at a small table with his back to the door. The silk of her dress brushed against her legs as she made her way through the packed room. Mortimer stopped her once to introduce her to his date from Human Resources, and Hermione waved to several others as she ducked between bodies.

She was nearly upon Severus when she saw who was with him.

Enid looked radiant. Her blond hair was up in some sort of complicated arrangement that Hermione would have never been able to manage, and it seemed to sparkle under the soft lighting. Enid's makeup was flawless, and her dress - what Hermione could see of it - was extremely flattering to the older woman's figure and coloring.

It was almost enough to drive a woman to drink.

An excellent idea.

Hermione detoured to the bar that had been set up for the evening and asked for something fruity that packed a punch. Chilled glass in hand, complete with a little wooden wand skewering a maraschino cherry and an orange wedge, she finally made her way to their table.

"Is there room for one more?"

Enid smiled broadly, immediately agreeing, and Hermione felt a twinge of guilt for wanting to dislike the other woman.

She really was a nice person.

Too nice? Perhaps she's hiding some horrid character flaw.

And perhaps you're grasping at straws.

Hermione took a huge sip of her drink and settled into the seat that Severus had pulled out for her. He returned to his own, and there was a moment of awkward silence.

Hermione drank some more.

Enid broke first. "I was just asking Severus what drew him out here to St Kilda in the first place."

That earned a raised eyebrow from Hermione. "And what did he say?"

Enid began, "He said -" but was interrupted by Severus.

"I said I was looking for somewhere that I belonged. I was looking for a home."

Hermione turned to face him fully, her head tilted to the side inquisitively. "Did you find it?"

He met her eyes with his own and for a moment Hermione could have believed he was talking to her, and her alone. "I think I have now."

Before she could swallow around her suddenly dry throat, he had turned and smiled at Enid, asking her what she thought of the islands. Hermione didn't hear the other woman's answer; she was too busy draining the last of the liquid from her glass.

The small talk continued, and Hermione eventually found herself drawn into it. She even laughed several times when Enid shared some of the horror stories from her prior job. At one point Severus disappeared to fetch refills for all three of them. By the time he reappeared with drinks and a plate of finger sandwiches, the earlier tension had vanished.

Until the music switched to a particularly upbeat and catchy love song. Enid's eyes grew wide with excitement and she stood. "Oh, I love this one. Severus, will you dance with me?"

For some strange reason, Hermione had expected him to say no. As she watched them merge onto the dance floor, she couldn't help calling herself a fool.

Her glass was empty by the time they returned, and Hermione's head felt a bit wobbly. Fully aware of her limitations when it came to alcohol, and equally aware of the fact that she'd already passed them, Hermione wisely decided to stick to water for the rest of the evening.

I should just pack it up and go home.

Severus tapped the back of her hand with his finger, and she quickly looked up.

"Are you feeling all right?"

She forced a smile to her lips. "Peachy. Perhaps a bit much to drink, but these things are so tasty." She finally realized the third chair at their table was empty. "Where did Enid go?"

"She said she wished to freshen up. Would you care to dance?"

Her instincts told her to say no. Her mind fairly screamed "Warning! Red Alert!" at her. And her rebellious lips very clearly said "I would love to."

Which is how she found herself on the edge of the dance floor, wrapped rather closely in Severus' embrace, swaying to some slow tune that Hermione barely even heard. The urge to rest her cheek against his chest was strong. She hoped talking might make it easier to clear her head, so she leaned back to look up at him.

"She calls you Severus."

"She does."

"You let her. You don't let people call you by your first name."

"I allow you." He said it as if it should explain everything.

"No, you don't. Not really. We've been friends for years now, and a majority of the time you call me Miss Granger and I call you Mr. Snape. We only use first names when we're trying to get a reaction out of each other."

He turned them, using the momentum to pull her closer. "Why is that, do you think?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking." Hermione adjusted her hands, resting them against his chest. "Would you really let me call you Severus on a day-to-day basis? It wouldn't seem - weird to you?"

He smirked down at her, and Hermione thought she felt his fingers flex against her waist. "I admit it might seem odd at first, coming from your lips when I've learned to anticipate the usual tart - and often mocking - 'Mr. Snape' from you."

She smiled back, unable to help herself.

"No one else would dare to tease me as you do, Miss Granger."

Hermione finally gave in to the urge and closed the small amount of distance between them to rest her head against his chest. "Blame my youth; it gave me an appetite for danger, and other than Mortimer in my lab, you are the most dangerous thing on the island."

His chest rumbled beneath her ear, and Hermione realized he was quietly laughing.

Far too soon, the song ended, and Hermione took a reluctant step back. Then another, until they were no longer touching.

Enid was waiting at the table, drink refills in hand. "I saw you had gone empty."

Hermione tried to find some hint of jealousy in Enid's face, but could detect nothing of the kind. As a matter of fact, she almost appeared to be glowing.

Severus held out a chair for each of them.

"I want to propose a toast." Enid held her glass of wine up, leaving Hermione no choice but to follow suit or look somewhat petulant. "To friendships, and new beginnings."

"Hear, hear."

She quickly echoed Severus' smooth baritone, then politely took a sip of her drink.

"And with that, I'm afraid I'm going to have to call it a night. You two enjoy the rest of the party. I'll see you both Monday for lunch?"

Hermione nearly choked when the fruity iced alcohol went down the wrong way. She hadn't been expecting Enid to stand up and say goodnight out of the blue like that. "You're leaving?" she coughed.

"Oh yes, I've got to be in the lab in the morning, and I'm expecting a phone call tonight so I really need to get back to my place."

Then she was gone, leaving Severus and Hermione alone in a room full of revelers and tacky heart decorations.

"I - I thought you two - Didn't you come together?"

Severus shook his head and set his glass down on the table. "No."

"But, you arranged to meet her, then?"

"Again, no, Miss Granger. I admit that I suspected she would be here, but I did not know for certain until I arrived and saw her."

Things were not adding up the way they should, not in her slightly drink-muddled mind, at least. Perhaps if she were completely sober, it would all make sense, but for now, Hermione felt like there was clearly a missing piece to the puzzle.

"So, why did you come then?"

"Sometimes, you just have to take a chance." He reached over and took her mostly full glass out of her hand. "I think I'm just about done celebrating for the evening. What about you?"

If Severus was leaving, there wasn't really a reason for her to stay. "I'll probably head home myself."

He stood and offered his hand to assist her out of her chair. "I'll walk you home."

The feel of his fingers, warm against her palm, made her breath hitch. "You really don't have to, you live on the other side of the complex from me, it would be completely out of your way."

"I must insist, Miss Granger. It's dark, the paths are slick, and I refuse to take no for an answer. I will see you safely to your door."

-8-



Part 1 / Part 3