For all the times he saved me

She had woken up on his couch, covered by a blanket, not knowing where she was or how she had gotten there. She remembered the rain, the street, and there had been a man. But who? The answer came to her the moment she sat up, thankfully holding a nice hot steaming cup of coffee. Unfortunately she noticed the coffee before the man holding it.
“Thank you so…” And her jaw dropped. “If you would be so obliged, kindly raise your jaw off my floor, thank you.”
Her mind was reeling, her logical brain refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing. Severus Snape? Playing nice? Oh Hell no! He scowled down at her and pushed the cup of coffee into her hands.
"I suggest you drink that, it contains a potion to help with your arm. You seem to have lived up to your title, Oh Wisest Witch of your Age. You have splinched yourself. Or at least, you failed at failing apparently. It’s a scrape. Now finish that drink and get out of my hair. I have done enough babysitting for one lifetime.”
He turned on his heel and practically ran out of the room. Of course. That's the snarky git we all know and love. She finished her coffee and, leaving a note of thanks, she left. Christmas would be spent with Harry after all.

Three weeks later Hermione was sitting at the breakfast table she and Ron had shared for years. This would be the last time they would ever sit there as a family. They had an appointment to sign the divorce papers in an hour. Ron was fumbling around in the kitchen, supposedly making coffee, but probably making a mess. This would be her last day in the house, but she didn’t have anywhere else to stay yet. She didn’t want to impose on Harry any more than she already had, and her money wouldn’t last long enough to stay in a pub or hotel. But that was a problem for later.
“So… I was thinking.” Ron said in between bites of his bagel. “I can take a sabbatical from Quidditch right, and stay home with the kids until you get everything ready. What do you think?”
WHAT? She almost choked on her coffee. “Y.. You?” she managed. “Yes, and I talked to mum. She would help me, she promised.”
She waved her hand, trying to get her coughing fit under control, and croaked out a fine. Thinking about it a little, it was the logical thing to do. Rose and Hugo needed a stable environment, and she was anything but stable at the moment.

“Thanks Tom” She called at the retreating back of the pub owner. She closed the door to her room silently. The room was filthy, tiny and horrid, but it was the best she could do right now. As she looked around the room the loneliness gripped her. It was really over now. Everything she had been, she had stood for, and she had worked for, ever since the end of the war, had gone down the drain. She had written off her entire five-year-marriage with one signature. And the kids. They had cried when she left. It had broken her heart to see them like that, but she knew it wouldn’t be for very long, and they would be better off with Ron and Molly at the moment. She had promised them she would floo them every day. Or at least, she had promised Rose, Hugo being too young to get any of it. She threw herself down on the bed. The tears she had shed on that first night were the only tears she would ever shed over this. She was strong. She would get herself back on her feet as soon as she could, and get her kids to live with her again. She hoped.
Tapping. Tapping? Yes, tapping. Her ears tried to tell her something which her sleep-addled brain was quite reluctant of passing on to her. Quite insistent tapping. Door? No. Window? Yes, the window. Bird? Bird. Bugger. She groaned, getting up as slowly as she could. She liked sleeping, and the bloody bird had interrupted her. Bloody, bloody bird. Ooh, pretty bird. She’d made her way to the small window in the corner, and she’d come eye to eye with a large black owl, which seemed to be rather annoyed by her belated response. It tapped the window again.
“Oh shush. I’m on my way aren’t I?” She opened the window, after a lot of jiggling the latch about, and the blasted bird pecked at her fingers. Ouch. Blasted thing. The bird would’ve huffed indignantly if it had been capable, she just knew it. It shoved it’s foot towards her, and as soon as she had untied it, the big bird flew away again.
“And to think I thought it pretty” she muttered. She frowned as she recognized the seal. Hogwarts? What did Hogwarts want? She hastily tore open the envelope, and read the letter. Then she read it again. Huh? Wait… Huh? She read it again. A job? A job…. A job!!! She squealed and ran out of the room to get her reply posted at the owl post office down the street.

Does she know? Could she? Would she be able to deduce he had something to do with her new job? Naturally, if it got out, his reputation would be ruined, but somewhere deep inside him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Would she find out he had talked to Minerva for hours? That he himself had to come back, because otherwise Minerva just wouldn’t take her on? Which was bull shit, and he knew it, but he had done it anyway. Would she hear about it? And if she did, how would she react? But he did what he had to. When the insufferable redhead let slip he had the kids now, and Hermione had left his house that morning, he knew he had to do it. Right? Yeah sure, he would’ve done it for any old student of his… He downed the glass of fire whiskey in one go. Oh hell. This would prove to become very inconvenient.