Harry couldn't believe it. After everything Snape did, there she was, lying on a bench with her head cradled in the bastard's lap, looking happier than he'd ever seen her.

This can't be right, the saviour of the wizardly world argued. Hermione would never do something like this.

And yet, even after rubbing his eyes raw underneath round glasses, he could still see them sitting comfortably on the bench. Snape's hair falling limp and greasy over Hermione as he leaned down for a - I'm gonna be sick - kiss, their forgotten ice-cream cone falling and rolling down the slope.