Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other piece of JK Rowling’s empire. I just write the fanfic.

Author's notes: The real story ended when Snape closed the door. This piece picks right up at that point, because it was originally part of the story. It's too serious for what I was going for, but it does resolve what happened with poor Hermione. Basically, I figured this piece was good enough to let people see, but not good enough to be in the final cut. ^_^

Deleted Scene: But What About Hermione?

After locking the door securely, Snape turned to his bed and started to unbutton his collar. Something was shining on the bed...moving closer, he realized it was Minerva’s house crest pin. She never went anywhere without it tucked away somewhere on her robes. Surely she’d be wanting it back. Sighing, he unlocked the door and headed out to the female faculty quarters in the western wing of the school.

Minerva McGonagall had just let her hair down for the night when she realized that she had lost her favorite pin. Must have left it with Severus, she thought – a bit vaguely, as it was quite a bit past her bedtime – and, not bothering to relock her door, she set off towards the eastern wing of the school.

He had just about gotten to the bottom of Gryffindor tower when he spotted Hermione Granger – of all people – sitting on the cold stone floor and poking her wand at...what were those, photographs? More out of habit than anything else, Snape slid silently closer until he was towering above her, then spoke.

“Miss Granger, whatever are we doing out of bed at this hour?”

Hermione jumped about a foot in the air. When she landed, she scrambled to hide the pictures. There were way too many to hide, though, and Snape plucked one from her hand. It was a picture of Ron and Harry playing chess. She’d apparently burned the faces out with the end of her wand. Under normal circumstances, Snape would have laughed, or at least smiled appreciatively. This was, however, far from a normal night.

“Miss Granger,” he sighed, handing her the picture, which she hastily stuffed into her robes, “What you must understand about friendship is this: your friends may do stupid, ridiculous, embarrassing things to you. They may tease and torment you. You may not like it, but only your true friends care enough to bother you when you need to be bothered. Do you understand? Don’t take yourself so seriously.”

Don’t take myself so seriously? Who is he kidding? wailed Hermione’s mind. This was too much. Absolutely too much. Arching an eyebrow as she must have seen McGonagall do a hundred times in class, she said, “Does this mean the wedding’s off?”

Snape nodded resignedly. Yes, he’d deserved that. No, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “I’ll add that to the running total of point deductions you’ve earned for this little late-night excursion. Now get to bed before I decide to start counting by the minutes you’ve been out of the dorms.”

She hesitated a moment, then muttered, “Thank you, sir,” and scampered back to Gryffindor Tower without a look back.

Snape turned to resume his journey to find Minerva standing there. She must have heard all of it, and she’d know in a heartbeat that he was talking about her. The embarrassment!

“I – I was just –“ he stammered.

“Coming to return my pin, I hope,” she said, holding out her hand. He dropped it into her palm.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping she would understand. This was what he had been unable to say after the party. She simply nodded and left as silently as she had come. Snape had the strangest feeling of being back in school and having to decode a mischievous teacher’s cryptic lesson. A lesson in...love? Perhaps. But not the kind on which Valentine’s Day thrives.