Teapaper

              The howler came first thing in the morning the next Monday, borne by some large bird that Hermione couldn’t quite make out- definitely NOT an owl. ‘Meet me at the Starbucks on Elderberry. Bring another book for the same woman as last time. Ten o’ clock. Don’t be late Granger.’ His voice had snarled before the howler shredded itself straight into her morning coffee.

               She’d huffed out an incredulous laugh when the bits of paper had surprised her lips when she went to take a rather large and fortifying sip. Surely, he didn’t charm the bloody thing to dump RIGHT in her coffee? Though, hearing Severus Snape say ‘Starbucks’ hadn’t been on her bingo sheet either so that sort of nonsense wasn’t out of her realm of possibilities.

               Dumping the ruined drink right down the disposal, Hermione cast an augmented Tempus charm and set about getting dressed, this time choosing another sweater dress with an oversized turtleneck at the top and deep enough pockets to stick her wand in to. It was in black if she remembered correctly. Not her favorite color, but the deep shade had a certain charm now that she couldn’t deny, especially with how cozy the garment was. She chose a plain velvet choker that she didn’t remember the color of to accompany the outfit.

               The trouble began when she went to pull a brush through her hair and it caught in a snarl, snapping her already brittle patience in two in less than a second. Removing the brush, she felt around her head and deemed the hair too long once again. Fetching the electric clippers, she ran them over her head until it felt only about two inches long all over.

               Not much makeup could be done by feel, but mascara was one of the things she had mastered along with lip gloss and so she put those on as well. Pretty wasn’t the goal- she’d thrown the idea of out not long after the Yule ball with Krum- but looking put- together certainly was. Three times Snape had come around now and while her hackles weren’t raised yet, her nerves were certainly shot, and her mind was a tangle of stuck together spaghetti.  Hermione was damned if she was going to be showing any of that.

               Downstairs she picked out a book for the mystery woman, same author as last time and made her way out the door just as her wand buzzed to tell her it was nine thirty.

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               Hermione hated Starbucks for the most part. The endless crush of bodies in the always tiny stores triggered a couple different flavors of panic depending on the day. Today was no different and Hermione felt trapped, standing alone in the line in her personal darkness while she could feel the people around her moving around and going about their day. Even covered up with the huge sweater she wore she felt too naked and uncovered. Vulnerable.

               Making her order for a simple vanilla latte Hermione asked to be pointed to an empty seat from the girl behind the counter.

               “There’s, erm, a windowsill available if you like? All the chairs are taken right now sorry.” The young girl behind the counter answered awkwardly.

               “Would you mind pointing me to it? I know its busy.” Hermione asked as her hands closed around the hot cup of coffee.

               “Sure! Let me just-“ With no warning there were suddenly hands on her arm tugging gently, sending pain ricocheting through Hermione’s body. She gasped and leaned heavily on her cane as she went with the girl, struggling to act as normally as she could. They’d only made it a few steps when another larger hand closed around Hermione’s upper arm.

               “I have her from here.” The velveteen voice cut through the echoes of her own internal screaming.

 The shopgirl squeaked and left immediately.

               “I see you haven’t lost your touch.” Hermione nearly smiled as the constant new pain ended abruptly after the girl had let go, now only the aftershocks bounced around her body like a ball across a floor.

               Snape all but dragged her to the window seat and gracelessly pushed her down to sit.

               “Stay. I’ll be back.” He ordered. Hermione balanced her cane between her knees.

               “Woof.” She murmured quietly and took a sip of her drink before cringing. So much sugar and it still tasted burnt.

               She sat alone for what felt like quite some time while Snape made his way through the queue. Her coffee half gone by the time he sat beside her.

               “So… Starbucks. Not the Leaky?” This time. she began the conversation.

               “Much like you, I dislike the public attention I get on the other side of town.” Snape answered smoothly.

               “Hm. The other side of town. I like that.” She smiled wanly “Makes it sound so simple when you say it.”

               “It’s too early in the day for you to act maudlin on me. Not when I haven’t even given you reason yet.” Snape snapped at her.

               “Yet? Promises, promises. I do like a good sad day.” Hermione laughed.

               “I wish to study you.” Severus said abruptly, cutting off her laughter.

               “So did St. Mungo’s. They also wanted to give me a LOT of nice... drugs. As you can see, I’m not locked up in the Janus Thickney.” Hermione said in answer. “Are you also offering drugs?”

               “I’m offering a better shot than Mungo’s would ever be able to even dream of. It goes without saying that whatever I do- It won’t be orthodox.”

               Hermione sat quiet for a moment. It was not lost on her that there was no pain accompanying his words like the acute pain the Healers had caused trying to talk her in to letting them treat her. Sharp, knife-like stinging had ricocheted from her eardrums to her brain as they’d tried to talk- no, yell, over her screaming.

               “You aren’t doing this out of the kindness of your heart.” She stated.

               “I bore my own pains for doing good Granger, why should I care about yours? If anything, it’s made you the perfect martyr.” Snape answered quickly, sounding almost insulted.

               “Then what do you want?”

              “Other than a good puzzle, solving you has a good chance of bringing me prestige, therefore power and money. Things that I would find to be incredibly useful at this point in my life.” Snape murmured quietly as some loud patrons made their way past.

              “I would have expected you to want to disappear.” Hermione hummed as she thought about her answer.

              It was a tempting, terrifying offer. The week she had spent in the Janus Thickney ward had been more than enough to convince her that she would never be going back there. At first, she’d thought she’d woken up at night when her eyes opened to darkness, she’d felt safe then relieved that the war was over. Then, the pain had started the second the mediwitch had begun to remove the cuffs and told her what was going on. Hermione didn’t think she stopped screaming for the next six hours as the healers had tried everything to dull the pain before they finally left her alone, having exhausted all their ideas.

               It had taken one of the mediwitches at the end of her patience grabbing her harshly and rolling her to the side to clean her up as she’d pissed herself in yet pain again for any kind of breakthrough to happen.

 “That didn’t hurt this time. What did you do?” Hermione had grunted, pain no longer building upon itself for the moment.

“Honestly, I got frustrated. I can’t take much more of you screaming. I’ve been here with you all day for the last three days.” The mediwitch had answered with a sigh as she let Hermione flop back on to her back.

               Sighing into the paper cup Hermione steeled herself to answer. Her heart began to flop in her chest as if searching for a way away from the terror she was about to invite upon herself.

               “I’ll want to see your work before I ever try a single cure.” Hermione bargained; her hand twitched in her lap at the very idea. Snape let out a long-suffering sigh.

               “I- that’s acceptable.” He agreed.

               “You’re different too, you know.” Hermione said, swallowing nervously while changing the subject.

               “What?” He sounded skeptical.

               “You told me before I was unrecognizable.” A disbelieving huff of air came from her side.

               “I assure you I am very much the same.” Came the snarled reply. She felt him stand up and leave.

               Hermione sat there for a while longer, back pressed against the glass, unwilling to move and be inserted back into the fray of people just quite yet as her body vibrated with nervous energy. She wanted to run, disappear, as she had suggested Severus had wanted to do. She was tired of being brave, almost as tired as she was of the way life had changed for her.