Just a little one-shot that popped into my head this morning and wouldn't go away. Slightly AU because Snape should have survived, dammit. And I was watching Deathly Hallows this weekend and his death hit so much harder with Alan Rickman's being a few short months ago.

Anyway, enjoy!

I don't own Harry Potter.

Hello Again

Hermione sat against the wall of the tent, the cloth scratching roughly against her heavy winter coat. She and Harry had just returned from Godric's Hollow, and the events of the night weighed heavily on her mind.

Harry was sleeping soundly inside the tent, tucked away in his bunk and drugged to sleep with the last remaining dredges of Dreamless Sleep that Hermione had had stashed away inside her little beaded bag. He twisted and moaned constantly despite the influence of the potion.

Every noise Harry made set Hermione's teeth on edge. She had cleaned and bandaged a nasty snakebite on his arm, but there was no telling whether or not the snake was venomous. She expected Harry to writhe and scream at any moment, venom coursing through his bloodstream and sizzling his veins. But for now there were only faint moans.

She had had to cut the locket off him with a carefully placed Severing Charm as well. The locket and chain had been almost fused to his skin, and the blood-red marks on Harry's skin haunted her. She was sure that they would scar, that they would never stop reminding Harry of the war even when they were both middle-aged with the war well behind them. If they even made it that far.

Hermione rummaged through her bag, looking for her small collection of potions. It hadn't been much to begin with, but recently it had dwindled down to almost nothing. She needed to refill her stash, but she had no access to any potions and it was much too dangerous to slip into Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, for obvious reasons.

She gave up and summoned the potions into her hand instead, setting her wand on the spongy forest moss beside her as the vials flew into her grasp. Harry's wand was carefully hidden away in her jacket pocket, snapped cleanly in two but for the tiniest thread of phoenix feather. It must have been her Confringo; it had to have been. She wanted to cry at the mere thought of telling Harry that she had accidentally broken his wand. They needed their wands more than anything here. Especially here, all alone and on the run in the middle of the forest.

Hermione began sorting the vials, examining each to determine how much of each potion was left. They were out of Dreamless Sleep, Pain Draught, and Dittany; she had used the last of them on Harry just moments ago. They had barely any Blood-Replenishing Potion, Bruise Paste, Wound-Cleaning Potion, Pepperup, Burn-Healing Paste, or Murtlap Essence. However, the bottles of Antidote to Common Poisons, Calming Draught, and Wideye Potion were nearly full. Regardless, they were in trouble.

Hermione's thoughts flashed to the dark, brooding Potions Master. He still resided at Hogwarts, having taken over as Headmaster after his murder of Dumbledore, and she knew that he kept his potions cupboard well stocked. If only she could get into Hogwarts without being seen and sneak a few vials from his stock. And as long as she ran into McGonagall or Flitwick rather than the Death Eaters, she might be able to pull it off.

As Hermione gathered her potions vials into a separate bag and checked on Harry, making sure he was asleep and relatively calm, it struck her how dangerous this idea truly was. If something happened to her – and there was a high chance of that – Harry would be left alone without even a wand to defend himself with. She scribbled a note and left it beside his bed, informing him of where she was going and instructing him to stay where he was. And if she had not returned by nightfall, he was to assume the worst.

She tucked the note under the pieces of his broken wand and the locket and slipped out of the front flap of the tent. She knew Harry would be furious when she returned, but it was all for the best. And if she didn't return . . .

She adjusted the wards around the tent swiftly, tightening them to allow no one entrance but her and Harry. Then she made her way into the Forest of Dean until she was sure that she wouldn't wake Harry and Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. It was only then that she threw Harry's Invisibility Cloak over her.

The sun was just coming up over the Black Lake, casting golden light onto dark waters, as she slipped through the gates. She knew that she had breached the wards, and someone would certainly be coming to investigate the intrusion to the school at any moment, but she could only hope that she could reach the Headmaster's office before any of the staff reached her.

She hurried along toward the castle doors, trying to walk as lightly as possible so as not to make enough noise to draw attention to herself. If she could only get inside the castle –

The tip of an unfamiliar wand touched the junction between her shoulder blades ever so gently. Hermione froze, just managing to choke down her squeak of surprise and fright. The wand jabbed hard into her back at her abrupt stop.

"Well, well, what have we here?" came the silky, drawling voice of Hogwart's resident Potions Master and presiding Headmaster, and Hermione felt her heart fill with lead. "A foolish student wandering the grounds before dawn? A lone member of the Order of the Phoenix come to fight? Or" – and Snape paused for a moment as though considering something – "Harry Potter, come to turn himself over to the Dark Lord? He had a Cloak of Invisibility much like this one, and only he would be so foolish as to forget that such cloaks are all but useless after a fresh snowfall."

Hermione glanced behind her and – sure enough – a trail of footsteps began at the gate and led to where she was standing. She let out the tiniest sigh as she turned to face the dark wizard, standing stern and foreboding with his eyes fixed directly on her despite the cloak and his ebony wand pointed threateningly at her chest.

"Well?" he demanded gruffly with a jab of his wand. "Reveal yourself."

Hermione did not remove the cloak, knowing that if she would be utterly foolish to reveal herself to him in the middle of the grounds, even if he was a Death Eater and had murdered Dumbledore right before Harry's very eyes. Certain that he was about to send her straight to Lord Voldemort's sitting room, she whimpered as quietly as she possibly could, "Please, sir."

Snape straightened immediately, one hand grasping blindly for her shoulder. When he found it, his hand tightened painfully, and he began to march her toward the large wooden doors of the castle.

He took her on a winding, roundabout route to his office, cutting through tapestries and hidden passages that she wasn't sure even Harry knew about. Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

Snape seemed to hesitate for a moment, his hand clenching Hermione's shoulder painfully. He hissed, "Lily," to the gargoyle, and it sprung aside immediately to grant them access to the Headmaster's office. But Snape didn't even stop there. He dragged her past the portraits of Hogwarts's past Headmasters – all fast asleep at the moment – and through a door at the back corner of the office.

Hermione found herself in a large sitting room, decorated with comfortable armchairs and sofas and an ornately-carved cherry wood coffee table.

Snape ripped the Invisibility Cloak from her body and threw her roughly onto the couch behind her. His wand was once again pointed directly at her as he bit out, "This was very foolish of you, Miss Granger. Why are you here?"

Hermione sunk against the plush cushions in fear. "Please, sir, I – "

She didn't know what to say to the stern man standing before her. Fury set his dark eyes afire; his eyebrows furrowed angrily.

Finally, in a voice that sounded stronger than she felt, she asked, "Are you going to hurt me?"

The Headmaster collapsed in an armchair situated directly across from her. His wand was still in his hand, but it was no longer pointed at her and he now looked decidedly less threatening. "I have yet to decide."

She stared at the man sitting across from her, and for the first time she realized how absolutely horrid he looked. Snape had never been an attractive man – his hooked nose, greasy hair, and cruel disposition had assured that – but he looked worse than ever. His long and unkempt hair hung lankly around his face, which was more sallow and thin than Hermione had ever seen. His eyes seemed sunken into his face, emphasizing the bruise-like bags under them; his cheeks were hollow. Lines were etched deep into the skin around his eyes and mouth. He looked like a man haunted – whether by ghosts of his past or present, Hermione didn't know.

Without thinking, Hermione blurted, "You look dreadful."

"Your opinion is not appreciated, Granger. Now answer me: why have you come to the castle?"

Hermione pulled the small bag of potions from her pocket. She had left her beaded bag with Harry just in case she didn't return. He still wouldn't have a wand but at least he would have something.

She dumped the measly collection of potions vials onto the cherry table between them.

"We need help. Harry and I" – she ignored the way Snape's face tightened when she said her best friend's name – "have been on the run, and I'd collected a few potions to take with us in case anything came up, but – " Hermione held up the empty bottles of Dittany and Dreamless Sleep when her words failed. Something about sitting in the same room as Snape and still being alive was stunning her into near-silence.

"And Weasley?"

Hermione felt the familiar pain settle into her chest, but she hardened her gaze and steeled her voice. "He is no longer with us."

The older wizard actually looked surprised. It was the first time Hermione had seen such a vulnerable expression on the man's face, and she had an absurd urge to laugh. "He's not – he hasn't – Weasley isn't dead, is he?"

Hermione's eyebrows rose in response. "No! No, he's just left us. I suppose life on the run wasn't all he expected it to be." Her face settled into a glare. "I don't know what he expected, but I suppose it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Snape rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn't holding his wand. Hermione noted that even his hands looked thinner than usual. Perhaps he wasn't eating. His normally impeccably tailored robes were looking a bit loose.

"What made you come to me now?"

"Well, I wasn't coming to you, exactly. I was hoping to run into Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick rather than you, but I remembered how well you stocked your potions cupboard and I was just hoping to nick a few supplies without getting caught," Hermione admitted in a rush, still clutching the empty vials in dirty fingers.

"McGonagall and Flitwick no longer patrol the castle. As I stated before, it was incredibly foolish for you to come here tonight." Snape had returned to rubbing the back of his neck.

"I didn't have a choice anymore," Hermione whispered as she dropped her chin to her chest. "There was no other option. We barely escaped from Godric's Hollow – I can't believe we did, really. Harry was – I left him to come here after giving him the last of the Dreamless Sleep – I didn't know what else to do. . . ."

Snape's gaze was suddenly sharp. "Godric's Hollow? What were you doing in Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione stared at him across the sitting room. She searched his eyes, trying to find a hint that she could trust him, but she found nothing but cold onyx. He met her gaze evenly, finally raising one impatient eyebrow when she didn't answer.

"Harry thought that we might find something we've been looking for." There. An answer that was vague enough to not truly be an answer.

Snape's eyes narrowed in irritation, but Hermione thought that he must have understood. After all, if he was truly loyal to Voldemort she couldn't tell him anything, and even if he was on their side he shouldn't know too much about what the Golden Trio was involved in.

After an impossible silence, Snape sighed. It sounded rough, pained somehow. "What do you need?"

Hermione's eyes shot up to meet the Headmaster's. He looked conflicted, but determined. "Oh, thank you, sir! I've just used the last of the Dittany, Pain Draught, and Dreamless Sleep. And we definitely need . . ." She trailed off and just handed him the small collection of vials that had been scattered across the coffee table.

Snape took a look at each vial before standing and exiting the room. He returned a few moments later, his arms carrying an assortment of potions. He listed them off as he set them on the table between them. "And an ample supply of this nutrient potion," he finished, placing a large bottle of a forest green potion before her. He eyed her critically, looking as though he were fighting some sort of internal battle. Finally, he asked through gritted teeth, "When was the last time you had a proper meal?"

Hermione shrugged, surprised that the man had even asked. She watched as he stuck his head in the Floo and called for some dinner. He still looked torn, as though every moment he spent with her – every decision he made concerning her – was a battle all its own.

He set a tray before her a moment later, and the scent of the roast chicken and mashed potatoes made her almost frantic with hunger. She dug in without a second thought, aware of the way dark eyes watched her as she ravenously devoured her first proper meal in weeks.

When she had finished, her stomach churning slightly at the sensation of being full after starving for so long, she met Snape's gaze. "Thank you, sir. You didn't have to –"

"I could have poisoned that, you know," Snape remarked dryly, still watching her intently.

Hermione noticed that the ebony wand had disappeared back into the man's robes while she had been eating, and felt significantly relieved. "Yes, but if you had intended to harm me, you would have done it a long time ago. Certainly before you handed over your potions."

A hint of a smirk touched Snape's lips, making Hermione smile in response.

"That's what I thought."

"As though I would hesitate to take them back after the deed had been done," Snape replied. His dark eyes flickered down to her hands as she began to put the full vials back into her bag.

A dark thought returned to her as the Dittany clinked against the vial of Antidote to Common Poisons – a dark thought of Harry all alone back in the tent in the Forest of Dean, writhing in pain as venom coursed through his body, as Hermione dined on roast chicken in the Headmaster's cozy sitting room.

"Um, Professor, it's just – well, while we were in Godric's Hollow, Harry was bit by a snake. I didn't see any evidence of poisoning, but I can't be sure that the snake wasn't venomous. Do you have –?" Hermione stammered her way through her explanation. Snape had already given her so much, and he was supposed to be one of Voldemort's most loyal followers. He had murdered Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake.

Snape's face took on a peculiar expression. "This snake – was it the Dark Lord's snake? Nagini?"

Hermione hesitated a moment before nodding. "It was waiting for us."

Snape didn't look at all surprised to hear this. Rather, he responded, "The Dark Lord has left Nagini in Godric's Hollow for a while now. He expected Potter to venture that way eventually.

"The fact that Potter was bit by Nagini makes me almost certain that Potter is not in any danger, although Nagini's venom is quite lethal. The Dark Lord would not have Nagini kill him; he wants to do that himself."

"So Harry hasn't been poisoned?" Hermione asked hopefully, the dark thought dissolving in her mind.

"I very much doubt it. Nevertheless, I will give you an antivenin to take back with you. It never hurts to be prepared," Snape said as he wandered back through the same door he had disappeared through earlier. The potion he returned with was a bright, sickly green.

Hermione slipped the antivenin into her bag as well, looking up at Snape gratefully. Snape merely looked perturbed.

"Did the Dark Lord come to Godric's Hollow tonight?" he asked quietly, his voice grave. When Hermione nodded, he motioned for her to stand. "Then it is time for you to take your leave. I will be called soon."

Hermione pushed away the thought of the man being subject to torture at the hand of Voldemort. It was painful to think of anyone being treated in such a way, especially this man who had fed her and aided her – probably all against his better judgment.

She snatched the Invisibility Cloak from where it had been discarded on the floor, and prepared to throw it over herself when she was suddenly overcome with a strange urge to hug Snape. It certainly wouldn't be a welcome gesture, so she kept her distance from the man and wrapped her entire body save her head in the cloak.

"Professor Snape, thank you for all of this. I know you didn't have to do any of this, and I truly appreciate it." His face was beginning to close off and settle into the cold mask she was used to seeing, so she threw caution to the wind and stepped closer, still careful to keep from touching him. "And thank you for all that you've done in this war. It can't have been easy, but I hope that it eases your mind to know that at least one person believes in you and respects you. Even though we can't possibly be in any contact, know that I'll be out there hoping that you're alright."

Snape's face hardened into the familiar scowl. "No one can ever know of this, Granger," he confirmed, and grabbed her shoulder to lead her out of the castle. Hermione noticed that his grip seemed gentler this time, even if it was by the most infinitesimal degree.

When they reached the gates, Snape opened them and pushed her through. "No can can know – not even Potter, especially not Potter. Do not ever return."

Hermione watched as he turned and trudged back toward the castle, his black robes and heavy cloak cutting a foreboding figure against the white snow. But she had no time to ponder the strange encounter she had just had with Severus Snape. She had to return to Harry.

With a crack, she appeared back in the Forest of Dean, just beyond the wards of their small campsite. She gave the wards a moment to recognize her magical signature before slipping through them. The tent immediately shimmered into view, and she noticed with a pang that Harry was huddled outside the entrance in his jacket and two heavy blankets, peering cautiously and expectantly into the brightening morning.

When he saw her, he jumped to his feet, abandoning the blankets to run and throw his arms around her. Hermione could feel the anger in his hug and knew she would have to face his infamous wrath soon, but for now she simply hugged her best friend in return. She was cold, nauseous, and relieved to be alive, but above all she was incredibly confused at everything that had just transpired in the Headmaster's little sitting room.

Hermione finally pulled away from the hug and ushered them back into the tent, where it was at least slightly warmer. She dumped her new collection of potions onto Harry's bunk so that he could see that she had been successful.

"How?" Anger, worry, and confusion warred in his emerald eyes. "How could you have possibly pulled this off?"

"Sheer luck," Hermione replied with a grin, a sly grin behind which hid all the secrets of her visit to the castle. "And look – I even nicked some chicken from the kitchens."

Sheer luck. And a little help from the Potions Master.

oOoOo

Hermione fully expected that she would not see the Headmaster of Hogwarts for months to come, but it ended up only being a single day. She had been fast asleep in her bunk when a dark figure had entered the tent.

"Granger," the figure intoned in a deep voice.

Hermione sprung to her feet in an instant, reaching for her wand but realizing that Harry had it to patrol for the time being. She held one hand out uselessly in front of her, maintaining a defensive position, until she recognized the figure.

"Professor Snape?" she inquired in confusion, straightening. "Where's Harry?"

"Where is your wand?" he countered, a question that Hermione had fully expected.

"Harry has it because he's patrolling right now. Now, like I asked, where is he?"

Snape still looked stern, but he quickly began rummaging through his robes. "Off on a treasure hunt with Weasley. We do not have much time; they will return any moment."

Hermione's heart stopped. "Wait, Ron is here?"

"Yes, and he will be here in the tent any moment, so we must hurry," Snape snapped impatiently. He removed a tiny object from his pocket which, when returned to its normal size, turned out to be a rather large parcel. He handed it to Hermione.

Hermione lifted the edge of the parcel and peered inside. It was filled with an assortment of food – real food. She looked up and met his dark gaze with grateful, teary eyes. "Professor, you didn't have to –"

"It should last you three for a short while at least. I hardly think I will be returning any time soon, so attempt to make it last," Snape interrupting, stopping her grateful response instantaneously.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered.

"Then don't waste your breath," he growled in response, turning to leave.

Hermione immediately noticed his stride lacked its usual alacrity and confidence. "Are you alright, sir?"

Snape turned back toward her with a raised eyebrow. "I am fine, Miss Granger. I have certainly survived worse."

"Not because of me, though," she cried, and threw her arms around him. Snape stiffened immediately under her touch.

"Unhand me this instant," he bit out, his voice tense and uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Hermione jumped back in embarrassment, her cheeks pinking as she looked at her feet, at the parcel now lying on her bunk, at anything but the wizard standing in front of her.

The unmistakable sound of Harry and Ron traipsing through the forest near the tent broke the awkward moment. Snape jumped into action, disillusioning himself and disappearing out the tent flap and into the thick darkness of the night. Hermione watched him go, her feeling a strange mix of gratefulness, respect, and irritation towards the man for being so mysterious and infuriating.

Just then, Ron burst through the tent flap, holding the blackened, smoldering remains of Salazar Slytherin's locket. He grinned across the tent at her, and Hermione was so infuriated by this simple action that she launched herself across the tent and planted her fist firmly against Ron's jaw.

"How dare you!"

oOoOo

Severus Snape sat in a dark pub exactly one year after the Final Battle. Exactly one year after he had been attacked by Voldemort's bloody snake. For much of the final year of the war, he had looked back on the morning he had spent with Hermione Granger with regret at his own stupidity. But now, he looked back on it with nothing but gratefulness, for the very antivenin that he had placed in her possession that December morning had been poured down his throat and into his open wounds as he lay bleeding out on the dirty, gouged wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack.

He took a sip of his scotch and looked around the pub. It was a Sunday night, so the room was relatively empty but for the regulars, who sat at the bar staring miserably into their glasses. The darkness of the room made it difficult for Severus to make out the bartender bustling around behind the bar, much less the door or anyone who happened to venture through it.

The door swung open, the sound barely discernable through the Muggle music that was drifting through the room. Severus didn't even look up from his drink, even as the unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke reached his prominent nose. He hated the scent; it reminded him rather painfully and bitterly of his good-for-nothing father, but he ignored it in favor of another sip of scotch.

Much of the wizarding world was gathered at Hogwarts tonight, attending a huge anniversary ball in the Great Hall. Severus had received an invitation by means of a beautiful snowy owl several weeks ago, but the crisp piece of parchment had immediately been cast into the fire. He didn't want to celebrate anything.

The Dark Lord was dead, but his memories of the war certainly weren't. And although his name had been cleared by Potter's inane little speech during the Final Battle, the general unease that most witches and wizards felt toward him had not subsided. He had played his part well, and it took a lot more than a jury to convince the public that he was a different wizard than the one he had pretended to be for much of his life. Not that he minded much.

Severus was just preparing to rise to refill his scotch when someone suddenly slipped into the seat across from him. He glanced up to see Hermione Granger, all dressed up with a tight scarlet dress and a face full of makeup. A cigarette dangled from her fingers. She had clearly just returned from the ball.

"Hello again," she said with a crimson smile.

He stared at her for a long moment before he finally asked, "Do you want anything?" with a slight nod toward the bar behind him.

"Whatever you're having," she replied easily, and Snape meandered to the bar to obtain two scotches.

He placed the drink before her as he snatched the cigarette from her dainty fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the edge of the table. "Don't smoke, Granger. It's revolting."

"I hate it," she replied unexpectedly, staring at the ashtray where the glowing cigarette had died. "But it makes me feel alive in the strangest way."

She met his gaze then, and Severus could see the emptiness in her hollow amber eyes. He understood exactly how she felt, although he didn't know how to tell her.

"It's nice to see you again, Professor. I keep having nightmares of frantically trying to save you as you bleed out, only to realize that I'm too late or I've forgotten my potions. It's nice to see you looking alive and well." Hermione smiled again, but Severus could see the pain that flashed across her face as she made her confession.

He forced a laugh. "And I have nightmares about what might have happened had I not given you that antivenin."

She downed the scotch in one go, surprising Severus, and met his gaze evenly. "I know it's the sodding anniversary and all that, but let's not talk about the war."

He quickly finished his own drink and stood, taking her hand and helping her out of her chair. "Shall we?"

And they made their way from the pub and into Muggle London, where there were no scars and no signs of the war that they had both somehow survived just one short year ago. After all, it did not do to dwell on the past and forget to live.

Hope you liked it :)