Severus listened to the apprentices as they talked. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration professors had taken to sitting with them, too. He wasn't sure why, other than he supposed it was easier to sit with another who knew no one else either. Not to mention, Professors Bergman and Laurent were younger than he'd been expecting.

Correct that, the American apprentice seemed to be doing most of the talking.

To Hermione.

He had no explanation for the bold statement he'd made to her while in her mind. He'd felt her trying to push him out and he wondered when she'd had the time to learn any occlumency. Then he shouldn't be surprised that she had. Likely she knew about Potter's failed lessons with him and attempted to learn so that she could in turn impart the knowledge onto The Boy Who Lived.

Stupid.

He'd made the comment without completely thinking of how it might have sounded, not liking the fact the wizard closer to her in age was so obviously flirting with her. She hadn't seemed offended, though. She'd evidently enjoyed his company, too, or she wouldn't have wanted to extend their time together earlier today by taking him to lunch. By sharing something personal to her.

Four younger siblings that he babysat on his breaks indeed.

There was no mother in the picture, though he hadn't told the others of that fact he didn't think. He knew having access to his file. His mother had gotten involved in a gang at a very young age. Evidently, so had the father but he'd gotten out (violently) once Kenny came into the picture. The mom had not despite having children.

From his history, she disappeared about the time he got his letter. It seemed the family believed her merely to be missing and not dead. Living on the streets under the influence of drugs for this long, though, Severus knew the odds weren't good she would ever come back. If she was even still alive. He had doubts about that. Judging by one of the (obviously) amateur tattoos he'd seen the Arithmancy apprentice sporting, it appeared his mother had tried to initiate him into her gang before getting his letter. Being magical just may have saved the young wizard's life (and those of his brothers').

He'd seen them swimming earlier. It had been so long since there'd been apprentices here, not to mention young faculty (other than him) that he'd forgotten what it was like.

Different.

No longer students but still young and relatively free. He was surprised to see her in a bathing suit, assuming she would want to keep her scars covered. He'd felt a bit like a lech when he looked, afraid she'd catch him ogling her. What he'd seen, though, was certainly enticing.

They were lucky.

Carefree.

Something he'd never experienced. He had glanced at the faded tattoo on his left forearm, running his index finger over its outline, remembering exactly what it was he was doing when he was their age.

She seemed so sincere about wanting to see his father's first issue Batman. He wasn't even sure what inspired him to admit to owning such a thing when someone other than her could have heard him.

When he'd first come to and realized that she'd been helping Poppy care for him he'd been somewhat put out at the idea. What would people think about a former student, one of the Golden Trio at that, assisting him in his convalescence? And yet, as he listened to her read from various books and journals for potions and other academic subjects he'd realized that there was no one else who would have been able to help Poppy care for him.

He wouldn't have allowed anyone else to do so.

Most wouldn't have bothered. Those that might have been bothered would have had an ulterior motive.

Only one was intelligent enough to hold a conversation with him and read from those sources and understand what she was reading. Only one would assist him out of sheer want to do so with no tricks up their sleeves as far as wanting something from him in exchange.

Her touch when she'd tended to his bandages or wounds, or seen to more personal matters such as sponging him off when cleansing charms were no longer making a difference, had been steady, soothing, and caring.

He had no idea what she did with her time away from him. She'd stayed close to Hogwarts for the most part after the final battle, but he knew she didn't sleep or take breakfast there and that she'd gone somewhere for a week or so after sitting her NEWTs before returning the day before. He wasn't conceited enough to believe she returned all those weeks explicitly for him, but she hadn't had to sit at his bedside.

That he did know.

In fact, her friends probably hated her doing it, if they even knew. He'd never admit that he rather missed their conversations, which was why he'd made the offer for her to assist him with brewing this evening.

He was not a social creature by nature. No longer serving two masters and burning the candle at both ends wasn't going to change that. So, integrating himself into their doings wasn't in him. Extending himself to Longbottom wasn't going to happen.

The Norwegian? Maybe. Severus hadn't decided on him yet. Getting close to someone from Durmstrang probably wasn't wise for him so soon after Riddle's defeat.

The Swiss professor? He doubted it. He seemed a little too simple for Severus' tastes.

He hoped Hermione, and even Longbottom, would be willing to join him in sitting in on the first few Defense Against the Dark Arts classes to see what the new professor's teaching style was like. Yes, Riddle had been defeated and no imminent threat existed, however, if the past few years had taught him anything it was that Moody was right.

Constant vigilance was key.

They could not allow the witches and wizards of the future to leave this school not knowing what they could potentially face and be unprepared to defend themselves.

When Minerva had reported to him that Hermione had achieved ten Outstandings on her NEWTs (she did not take one for Divination) he had been impressed yet not surprised. This after missing her entire seventh year while on the run from Riddle and working to keep Harry Potter alive. He had no idea what those ten months on the run entailed, but he assumed it was no tea party.

It was known by then that Messrs Potter and Weasley were joining the aurors without sitting their NEWTs. Neither of them would be apprentice (and therefore professor) material anyway.

Severus had told Minerva that she'd be a fool not to snap her up and offer her whatever apprenticeship she wanted so that she'd continue to call Hogwarts home far into the young witch's future.

Filius had been the one chosen to try to keep Miss Granger in their family. Minerva had not asked Severus, perhaps assuming (incorrectly) he'd say no. Hiring two additional apprentices was Minerva's attempt at making the offer even more enticing. Prior to Professors Bergman and Laurent's arrival, Severus was the youngest professor at Hogwarts and had been for years.

Minerva felt it would be difficult to sway a witch or wizard in their twenties who was a war hero to stay in remote Scotland without some fresh blood. He wasn't sure if Hermione or Longbottom were interested in being social, but if today was any indication (and the fact the three apprentices were apparently up late the night before) Minerva had made the correct choice.

He finished his dinner and followed the group of them out of the Great Hall.

"You coming up, Hermione?"

He rolled his eyes at the Arithmancy apprentice's invitation. He sighed, bracing himself for a change in his plans and to be brewing alone. It was nice to think about. He was certainly no stranger to disappointment and being second best.

His witch surprised him, though.

"Actually, I'm going to help Professor Snape with some brewing this evening," she said, glancing toward him on the steps leading to the dungeons. The other apprentices were going upstairs, presumably to return to their rooms. He was going downstairs to the dungeons and his office.

"If you'd rather not, Apprentice Granger," he said.

He was looking forward to spending some time with her without the others around, but he wasn't going to take her away from forming friendships either. That may not be a priority to him, but he knew he was unusual in that.

"Not at all, Professor. I've been looking forward to it since you mentioned it," she said.

She sounded so sincere, which he wasn't sure how to take. Had she really been looking forward to spending time with him? He nodded simply, unwilling to think about why that simple sentence made him feel warm inside in a way he hadn't in many years (if ever), and continued his descent toward the dungeons.

"All right, we'll see you later then," Severus overheard the American apprentice say.

He didn't have much of an accent other than obviously being American. Severus had encountered a few different accents while visiting Ilvermorny over the years depending on where various students came from. This one, though, didn't have a twang as he'd heard from those from the south or anything. He'd never been to Chicago, never having reason to go further east than Massachusetts the times he'd been there.

"Professor Snape," she called and he paused when he got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Really, Apprentice Granger, you are not under my tutelage. If you'd rather…"

"I meant what I said, Sir. I've been looking forward to it."

"Very well," he said, unwilling to look too closely at why he was glad that was the case.

Once in his lab he told her what potions they would be working on. In addition to the infirmary here at Hogwarts he also supplied St. Mungo's as well as the healer in Hogsmeade. They were very anxious to get his potions back in stock, having to use potions not made to his strict specifications during his absence and while he healed.

"Did you enjoy the rest of your day then?" he asked once they were both at a place in their brewing they could talk.

Her head shot up, eyes showing her surprise at the question quite plainly.

Gryffindors.

"Yes. I hadn't realized the lake was that cold even in August."

He chuckled softly at that.

"Yes, I suppose it was a little warmer than the last time you were in it, though."

"Not much," she said with a slight grimace.

Stupid.

Bring up a painful memory, Severus.

Real smooth.

No wonder Black and Potter called him Snivellus.

Twenty years later and he still didn't know how to talk to a witch without bringing up a time when she nearly died. Maybe he should mention Dolohov to add some levity to the conversation while he was at it.

He grimaced.

Stupid.

Thoughtless.

 "It was nice, though," she said, surprising him out of his self-pitying thoughts. Obviously she wasn't privy to his internal dialogue. "Tomorrow I'll get busy again, but I figured one day wouldn't hurt."

"What did you do after you sat your NEWTs?"

"Why?" she asked, glancing at him. She smiled a bit, not her usual smile though. This one was almost cheeky. And was he imagining that glimmer in her eyes? "Did you miss my insufferable company, Professor Snape?"

Was she flirting with him?

Impossible.

Teasing more than likely.

"I will say that your bedside manner is more appealing than Poppy's," he drawled.

"You'd better not let her hear you say that or she's liable to hex you the next time you need her services."

"Well, hopefully with Riddle gone I won't have many occasions to visit her again."

"I hope that is true, Sir."

"So?"

"I was closing up my home."

"Your parents' home?" He was sure he'd been told her home had been destroyed. Did they have a second home that no one had been aware of? If so, why hadn't she just sent them there instead of removing their memories?

"No, Sir. It burned down around the time of Bill and Fleur's wedding, I'm not sure when exactly."

"Understandable," he said.

He knew now that it was after Bill and Fleur's wedding that the three of them had begun their hunt for the horcruxes.

"So, in between testifying, studying, and sitting with you I visited that solicitor you referred me to and purchased a house near Hartlepool. I didn't know at the time Filius was going to offer me an apprenticeship or I may have put off purchasing and just rented a flat or something. Harry would have let me live with him, of course, but I couldn't take advantage of his kindness endlessly and I really didn't want to live there full-time anyway. Staying there a night or two isn't so bad, but that house gives me the creeps. Anyway, I spent a week or so there after sitting my NEWTs and accepting Minerva and Fillius' offer just to relax a bit and close it up. They don't even know my real name, you know? It was nice being somewhere for a while where I wasn't Hermione Granger, best friend of The Boy Who Lived or the brightest witch of my age. Or I suppose as you say an insufferable know-it-all."

He grimaced at the last moniker, deciding not to say anything about it. She had, of course, at one time been insufferable. In truth, though, his criticism was because he saw a lot of himself in her when he had been her age.

Of all the things he regretted having to do as a result of his role of spy it was the fact he could not show favoritism to this witch who, even as a muggleborn with no formal education about magic, out achieved her peers from the moment she set foot on Hogwarts grounds. She deserved a mentor, someone who understood the drive to accumulate knowledge. Instead he'd had to treat her worse than gum on the bottom of his shoe because she was a Gryffindor and Harry Potter's friend.

Okay, the last part may have been his own biases rearing their head. As careless as he believed the younger Potter to have been on more than one occasion the past seven years, he knew that Harry Potter was not James Potter.

And yet when he'd been on death's door, she'd stayed.

Poppy told him during her week-long absence from Hogwarts that the young witch rarely left his side other than when the healer had made her get some sleep. Oftentimes, Poppy said she'd get around that directive by feigning sleep in the chair next to his bed, her head resting against his leg. (And that admission had made him blush in a way he hadn't thought possible for him.) Poppy had known the witch wasn't sleeping, but on those instances let her stay for some reason. She hadn't explained why and he hadn't pressed the issue. Even when he'd returned to his quarters she'd helped him. He'd balked at that, but he couldn't deny her help had been appreciated on more than one occasion.

The fact of the matter was.

She'd stayed.

She'd read to him.

She'd talked to him.

She'd cleaned and tended to him.

She'd nursed his wounds.

The Gryffindor Princess had chosen to aid the Bat of the Dungeons.

"And your neighbors?"

"There's only one I've met, and I informed her that I work at a boarding school out of the country so am not home regularly except for a month or two during summer. I didn't want her to worry if she didn't see me for days on end. I also told her my brother would be by once in a while to collect my mail so if she sees Harry she won't call the authorities on him."

"Advisable course of action," he said.

If she'd told him about purchasing a home he didn't recall, so assumed she had not. He did not have that problem in Spinners End because his neighbors had long ago learned to stop paying attention to what happened at the Snape household. Calling the police on his father only resulted in more brutality later so they'd stopped not wanting his mother, or him, to get killed.

He did recall, of course, offering her the name of someone he knew who could assist her in setting up an alternate identity. He understood why she wanted one and he couldn't deny it was advisable for her to do so. Presumably, Potter and Weasley knew where her home was and could find it if trouble found them and they needed a place to hide safely. Severus had no idea what name she chose. She hadn't told him and it wasn't his place to ask.

"I feel sort of guilty," she said softly, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"About?"

"Taking insurance money that really belongs to my parents who I know are, in fact, not dead. I sold their practice, too, and invested that money so if I am able to return their memories and they want to come back or expect the money…"

"I never met your parents, Apprentice Granger, but I know you, and like to think I've gotten to know you better over the past few weeks."

"Yes," she agreed.

"Your parents won't be upset. In fact, I suspect they'd be glad to see you did something so responsible. Many your age would not have thought to invest in a home."

"I bought a car, too. I thought it'd look strange if I didn't," she said with a shrug.

A car did not seem unreasonable in his opinion. It would seem rather necessary living amongst muggles as she apparently had chosen to do. "Did you buy an expensive car?"

"No, I mean, it's nice, but obviously it will last me for years as long as I keep it maintained, but it's not a Mercedes Benz or anything."

"Right," he said.

He was vaguely familiar with the brand she mentioned. German, he believed. It'd been years since he paid attention to muggle automobiles.

"I bought some new clothes."

"Apprentice Granger, now you're reaching. While I understand it, there's no need to feel guilty. You saved your parents' lives. Clearly by the house being destroyed you know that. Where were you supposed to live? Again, I don't know them, but by what you've said they treated you well and you had quite a nice upbringing."

"I did."

"They would not be upset."

"I hope not," she said, biting her lower lip as she was prone to do when she was thinking. Or nervous.

"So, what do you think of your fellow apprentice?"

"Other than Neville, you mean?"

"Yes, other than Mr. Longbottom, though I can admit he does seem gifted with plants. Pomona was wise to make him an offer."

"He is," she admitted.

"And Mr. Wright?"

"Kenny is nice. It's nice," she said, smiling with a look in her eye he wasn't sure he liked being there.

"What is?" he asked, noticing after a moment that she'd said it's nice not he's nice.

"Having another muggleborn to talk to."

"Ah," he said.

"I mean, I knew Colin, of course, but not enough to talk to him about things like movies or comics. I really don't know anything about him today other than his love for photography."

"Right," he said. "Things are a little different now, too, aren't they?"

"Yes! It was the same with Justin and I guess some of that is my fault. I didn't want to get to know them. I wanted to fit in."

"You were also a little busy keeping Mr. Potter alive."

"Well, yes, there is that. I realized when I was home alone for the week, though, that I kind of miss the muggle world."

"Mm," he said.

"Tea?" he asked when they were at a point where they were both waiting for their potions to simmer.

"I would love some, thank you," she said and seemed completely sincere in her enthusiastic acceptance.

How odd.

He called for an elf to bring them some and they each took a seat in his office.

"Are you having second thoughts about leaving it behind?"

"No, not really, but I'm not sure I will ever be able to completely leave it behind."

"And you think that's bad?"

"I don't know."

"The residence I maintain away from Hogwarts is in a muggle neighborhood."

Granted, it was his childhood home that he abhorred the memory of, but he'd been too busy the past going on twenty years to worry about finding anything else. He could now, though, if he chose to. He wasn't sure if he'd choose to live in the magical world. The anonymity of the muggle world appealed to him, he imagined as the aftermath of the war continued that would only get more true.

Their trip to Diagon Alley was his first time in the wizarding world since Riddle's defeat. He realized, later, that she'd probably interpreted his lack of enthusiasm of taking her to get robes to be a reflection on her and his thoughts on her company.

Untrue.

He wasn't sure if he was ready. He still wasn't sure he was ready, but he knew going with Hermione Granger was one of the better choices he'd made.

It was one thing to have Harry Potter's support.

Yes, he was the overall hero of their little tale in upcoming history books, but Hermione Granger was the brains of the operation. Everyone who knew either of them knew this to be the case. She'd willingly been seen with him and even accompanied him away from the wizarding world.

"Right," she said with a slight nod. "Of course. Um, Spinners End, right?"

"Yes," he said with a slight hiss of disapproval.

Not that she knew it, but the reason she knew it. If there was anyone he'd trust with his whereabouts away from Hogwarts it was this witch. She'd proven while visiting him in the infirmary that she could be silent at times he wasn't in a sociable mood. She didn't seem to run and tell anyone of their conversations. As far as he could tell she had indeed been discreet with the memories he'd given to Potter who had shared them with her

"It's okay to embrace both worlds, Apprentice Granger," he said. "Accepting that you're a witch does not mean your past and how you were raised no longer matter. Wanting to keep a foot in the muggle world does not mean you are not embracing your place in wizarding society."

"You don't think so?"

"In fact, I think it might be what the wizarding world needs now," he said with a shrug.

"What do you mean?"

"To counteract the muggles are idiots who need to be destroyed rhetoric. Who better than you to lead the way into the future and show them that muggles are in fact not just necessary but can be our friends? Not to mention the whole pureblood rhetoric is just craziness. There are so few left that inbreeding is truly going to start becoming an issue. A strong muggleborn witch or wizard like yourself could very possibly rejuvenate a bloodline."

"I'm not sure I want that sort of pressure, Professor. Or someone to think of me, and others, as little more than a broodmare."

"Not immediately, of course. And not as a campaign you embark on full-time. I'm not suggesting the magical and non-magical worlds living in peace and harmony. I just think you can help permanently close the book on that which Riddle started. Change isn't going to happen overnight, but you can certainly help move things along. And no one would mistake you for a broodmare. Ever."

"I suppose," she said. "Do we have a Muggle Studies professor this year?"

He scoffed, shaking his head in the negative. It was the one subject Minerva felt was quite important this year yet could not find anyone she wanted to hire. There'd been a couple letters of interest Severus knew, but no one truly qualified or without a suspicious background.

"Minerva is still working on that. No one is knocking her door down to take the position held last by a sadistic Death Eater knowing that her predecessor was likely a victim of the Dark Lord said Death Eater served."

He winced, trying to break himself of the habit of calling the bastard that any longer. Sadly, it was not easy to do. He'd get there eventually, hopefully by the time he had to be around people regularly. As much as he was loath to admit it, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger worked very hard to gain him his freedom without any binds and restraints placed on his person (literally or figuratively). His task now was to prove that the past twenty years had been somewhat of an act. He was never going to be an overly nice person, but he could show that he wasn't inherently a mean and nasty one.

"Oh, right, I suppose," she said, nibbling on her lower lip. "Neville said Umbridge looked good compared to Alecto."

"Indeed," he said with a grimace.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought her up. I know you had no choice."

She set her hand over his, squeezing lightly. He couldn't deny the gesture was pleasant. Her touch was pleasant. He'd thought that at lunch when she'd done the same thing. He wouldn't fool himself into thinking he'd welcome or accept anyone's touch.

It was her.

"No one blames you, Professor. Everyone knows."

"Not everyone believes," he replied dryly, not looking at the spot she was touching him in case she'd take that as a sign he didn't like it.

"Those who matter believe."

"Nice to think so."

"You have the rest of your life to prove it and I know that you will. Not that I think you need to prove it."

"I appreciate the sentiment."

"It's not just sentiment, Professor. Do you think I would have sat with you as I did if I believed you were truly a foul person."

As much as her words pleased him. He wanted this witch to like him. He, however, could not let her forget a few things about his past. If she was going to like him, truly have affection for him as he hoped to earn, he had to expose all of his warts.

"You do know I took the Dark Mark willingly, Apprentice Granger? That with quite possibly very few exceptions I know more about the Dark Arts than any in the wizarding world now that the war is over."

"I do, Sir, and I know that in my last year you were the best professor we could have had to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. I only wish I had the opportunity to learn more from you. The only other one who came close was Remus. I knew you were trying to prepare us, you knew what was coming. It was just too little too late."

He stared at her for a moment before lowering his eyes to her hand still resting on his. Was she for real? Did anyone this good truly exist? Lily would never have forgiven or believed in him. He didn't know why it had taken him twenty years to come to that realization.

He'd at least been overall decent to Lily. Yes, looking back he realized his behavior even before the day he'd broken their friendship irrevocably had been questionable, bordering on obsessive. No one seemed to understand all that Lily had meant to him at the time.

He'd had nothing and no one. He'd come from nothing and may as well have come from no one.

She had been the only good thing he'd had and, yes, he could admit he clung to her. That she'd fallen for the charms of James Potter baffled him to no end. The only one worse would have been Black. As much as he was loath to admit it, Potter had at least loved her, something Black wasn't capable of with a witch Severus didn't believe.

This witch, though. He'd berated, insulted, humiliated, and bullied her. He'd intentionally given her subpar grades. Yes, she needed to learn that there was life and knowledge outside of a textbook, but to think what he could've done with her mind if he hadn't been living the life of a spy.

Yet, she seemingly forgave him all of it. Not just forgave him but was able to look past it. The two didn't always go hand and hand in Severus' experience.

She'd asked him to accompany her to Diagon Alley to get her robes. She hadn't asked Longbottom or met up with Potter and Weasley. She hadn't rescinded the invitation after staying up late with her fellow apprentices to go with them instead. She had given up spending time with those same fellow apprentices to brew with him this evening. He knew there was no romantic interest for her toward Mr. Longbottom. The American apprentice, though, and the Norwegian professor. Both had eyed her with interest more than once, and less than subtly.

She hadn't replied to his comment about her paramour learning of the password to her quarters, so he had no idea what her status was with Messrs Weasley or Krum. He hadn't thought Mr. Krum was a possibility, but the Norwegian professor made him question that. The talk during their sixth year had been about Granger and the youngest Weasley boy. He took that to mean her interest in Mr. Krum had dwindled once the distance, stardom, and constant traveling (and possible womanizing) had a chance to become an issue.

"Would you still like to learn?" he asked.

"You know I would, Sir."

"Severus," he offered. He'd refrained from doing so earlier, but he could no longer sit here and listen to her address him as her professor.

"All right, Severus," she said, seeming to think on it as she said it. He enjoyed the sound of his name coming from her lips. "And, please call me Hermione."

"As you wish," he said with a polite bow of his head.

He glanced at his watch, realizing it was time they went back to their brewing. He stood and she did the same, seeming to recognize this as well. She set her tea cup and saucer on the tray it had been brought to them on and then after a glance at him to ensure he was, in fact, done, did the same for his things.

"Thank you," he said.

"What did you mean with that question, Severus?" she asked once they were back to their stations and working.

"Well, I was going to offer you an opportunity to learn under me. An apprenticeship of sorts, without the official title. I don't think Minerva, or the Board of Governors, would allow me an apprentice so soon after recent events and you would not assist me in teaching classes. At least not this year. I would have you assist me with my brewing as we're doing tonight. Once I'm comfortable with your abilities I will have you take over stocking the infirmary's stores. I'd have you assist me in ingredient collecting, whether that be at an apothecary or finding them by our own devices. If after some extensive teaching you have learned to make a potion realizing you do not have to follow a book's instructions word for word you wanted to try your hand at bettering or creating a potion I would allow you time, space, and ingredients to do so."

"Oh, really? That sounds wonderful."

"Around your actual apprenticeship, of course, and I expect you to be honest with me as our endeavor progresses if it gets too much."

"I'm sure it won't."

He scoffed. He was sure it wouldn't either, but he had to say it.

"As I said I'd like to hone your skills, get you to use that mind of yours instead of merely following the instructions blindly thinking that no improvement could be made. You seem to have an incredible memory and ability to retain that which you read. That's a fabulous skill, but just as muggle medical practices have improved over the years so can potions. I'd like to get you to the point that you can see in your head what each step actually does and if it, in fact, brings out the best end result in the potion."

"I'm not sure if that's an insult or not, but I understand."

"It's not meant to be. I know you are familiar with my potion's book."

"I am," she said.

"You mentioned it the other day. I was able to retrieve my copy last year."

"How?" she asked.

"One of the benefits of being Headmaster. While I used it in my youth when I was a student here, it was actually the property of Hogwarts. So, I called it to me. As Headmaster the school gave me what I asked for."

"That was very clever, Severus," she said.

He looked at her for a moment, trying to suss out any sarcasm or insincerity but he could find none. The smile on her face seemed to match her words.

"I was also thinking perhaps you'd have some interest in learning to duel."

"Sir?" she said, eyes darting up to meet his.

"I thought we'd taken care of that."

"Habit," she said. "You would teach me that?"

"I would."

"I would love that." Her eyes were positively gleaming and he took pride in the fact he, Severus Snape, had put that look there. "You've never worked with anyone before if my information is correct."

"You wouldn't be wrong."

"Then I'm truly flattered and humbled that you think I'm capable of sharing your gifts with, Severus."

"Not at all," he said, turning toward the shelves behind him when he realized that the heat he felt on his neck and face was not from the potion he was brewing but instead due to a blush. He was almost forty years old and blushing like a school boy because a witch said he'd flattered her. He sighed, running a fingertip along the nearest shelf and then turned back around once he felt he'd sufficiently collected himself.

Silence.

One of the things he enjoyed about her was her ability to realize not every second had to be packed with nattering incessantly about the weather or the latest quidditch match.

"This isn't because I sat with you, is it, Sir...Severus?"

"What?" he snapped. He hadn't meant to sound as harsh as he had.

"Well, I don't want something…"

"Nonsense, Hermione. I wouldn't commit to spending my time, sharing my knowledge, with you merely as a repayment for helping and sitting with me."

"Okay."

"Though I'm sure it put Mr. Weasley out that you did so much."

She snorted softly at that.

"Putting it mildly, I presume?"

"Ron is…" she shrugged to glance at her potion. She should be done by his calculations so he was pleased to see she obviously had come to the same conclusion and collected vials to portion it out. "He's nice enough, but he's not nice enough."

"Did your year away lower your communication skills, Hermione?"

She laughed softly.

"No. It's just," she said and sighed, eyeing the potion, vials, and then him. She got a look in her eye that he recognized as determination. He'd seen it in his own eyes looking in a mirror over the years when he'd wanted to give up. "Do you have something stronger than tea?"

"I do," he said, hoping he didn't sound as hopeful as he thought he did.

"Would you share?"

"I would be happy to, with you," he said, putting his potion under a stasis as his was not quite done yet. He helped her with her potion, pleased to see that it was perfect in color and consistency. Not that he'd expected any different from her with a headache potion.

They cleaned up and then she followed him without question or complaint to his office and from there to the doorway that led through a short hallway and eventually the entrance that led to his quarters.

"You are well hidden here, aren't you?" she observed.

"Yes. I'm not even sure Minerva knows how to get to my quarters without using the floo."

"Mm," she said.

She wasn't dismissing him, he realized. She was observing, taking in her surroundings. He ensured the fire was sufficient for an early August night and then made his way to the dining area that he had, which had never been used as long as he'd had these quarters. He assumed Slughorn had used it plenty of times during his tenure which was why it was as opulent as it was.

"What's your poison?" he asked.

"What are my options?" she asked.

He glanced up, smiling slightly as she was intently perusing his bookshelves.

"Ogden's, butterbeer, brandy, rum, wine, and I think I might have some muggle whisky if that's your preference. Really, the sky's the limit obviously living at Hogwarts so if I don't have it, name it."

"Um," she said, joining him in the dining room. She looked over her choices. "What are you drinking?"

"I hadn't decided yet."

"Well, this wine was what we drank last night and it was delicious, but I'm not sure I want to drink an entire bottle myself."

"Mm," he said with a nod. "I'll send it to your rooms when we're finished here if there's any left. I'm afraid wine is not piquing my palette's interest tonight."

"Okay," she said. "That's more than agreeable, Severus, thank you."

He opened the bottle of wine, pouring a bit into a glass, swirling it a bit before smelling it. "Do you want something while it breathes for a bit?"

"Sure," she said.

He poured them each a snifter of brandy, much less for her than him since she was wanting wine and it wouldn't take more than a half hour or so for it to be ready for drinking. He set the bottle of wine and a glass to go with it near a chair in front of the fireplace. Like the dining area he couldn't recall it being used by anyone in well over a decade. Unlike the dining area he knew it had been used during his tenure as a Hogwarts professor.

"So, Mr. Weasley is nice enough?"

She smiled, but this one didn't quite meet her eyes and he wanted to put that sparkle back in them.

"I just, it was one thing to like him here at Hogwarts. Who really thinks of a future when they're eleven and twelve? What kind of wizard will this person grow into being?"

"Understood," he admitted.

These were things he hadn't really had the chance to suss out himself regarding Lily. He hadn't had the chance because he'd been so bitter and hateful, unable to see the facts.

"I learned things the past year that I'm just not sure, you know?"

He tamped down the elation he was feeling. That would not do.

"Explain," he prompted.

"Well, for one, he expects someone like his mother."

Severus scoffed at that.

"I'm not a maid and have no plans on living like one for the next one hundred thirty years or more. Yes, of course, if and when I have a husband and a child or two I will cook and clean. However, I would expect my husband to at least clean up after himself. A partnership. I'll cook, you do the dishes. I'll clean the bathroom, you do the laundry."

"Right," he said.

It was a foreign concept to him (and most in the wizarding world), but he understood the idea.

"And my children will not be coddled. I will love and cherish them, of course, but as soon as they're old enough to learn chores they will do them. I'm not talking scrubbing cauldrons, but picking up the living room, cleaning up after the dog, and putting their folded clothes away on their own. Things like that. Age appropriate, of course. If I have a son, I will teach him about cooking and cleaning the same as I will teach my daughter."

"And Mr. Weasley does not agree?"

"We haven't talked about it specifically, but it's clear after spending time with him on the run as we did, no. He wants a maid. Harry helped on occasion, but he was as hopeless as Ronald truthfully so I ended up doing most of it out of necessity. He's eighteen years old, why am I still picking his dirty socks off of the floor? He expects he'll become an auror and I'll have seven babies and keep house all day with no career."

"What a waste," he murmured.

"I think so, too," she admitted. "I haven't come this far, learned everything that I have to be a housewife. Not that there's anything wrong with being one."

"I take no offense."

"Thank you. And, well, he left us, you know?"

"I'm sorry?"

"While hunting the horcruxes. The locket, Salazar Slytherin's locket. The bits of the soul were not … pleasant or kind to anyone handling them. The locket seemed especially evil. I'm not sure if it was one of the earlier ones created or if it was just because it was something you could wear. It fed off your doubts, negative thoughts."

"Ah."

"It seemed to be worse for him. Maybe because he was a pureblood? I really don't know. It is one of the things I'd like to research when I have time. He left for a couple of months so it was just Harry and me, which we made do, but…"

"He betrayed you."

"Yes! Forget me, though. I wasn't important. He betrayed Harry!"

"And now?"

She shrugged.

"We kissed the day of the battle and I pretty much hid myself here all summer, trying to distance myself from that. Him. What he thought it'd mean. I knew immediately it didn't mean the same thing to me that it did to him."

"Mm," he said.

"I was just glad to be alive! I didn't think I would survive. You'd survived. I was overjoyed that I could help you, Severus. You have no idea. Even before Harry told me about your memories."

"Thank you," he said, knowing that was inadequate.

"And, well, I'm just not sure I can trust him after everything that happened with Lavender either."

"He did seem to rather flaunt that in your direction," he agreed. And he knew firsthand how painful it was to watch someone you thought you loved cavorting around with someone else.

She scoffed.

"I have to be able to trust who I'm with. I know I'm not perfect. I know I'm not anyone's dream witch, but I will not stand for less than complete faithfulness. I'm not sure there's anything lower than cheating. I'm just not sure he's capable of fidelity. He likes attention. He got so little of it from his family, no offense to them, but it's the truth. I'm not suggesting they didn't love him, but he got lost in the shuffle a lot especially with the only daughter coming a year after him. I could really care less about being a war hero, getting an Order of Merlin, or anything else that comes with being Harry's friend and involved in the war as a result of that friendship. Ron relishes it. He wants it. I'm sure if he and I had gone to Diagon Alley earlier today he'd have found a way to draw attention to us."

He nodded simply in understanding. He didn't want attention. Far from it. He'd love it if his name wasn't even a footnote in textbooks and information about the war. Okay, that was perhaps untrue. He didn't want fame or attention, though. His role had been important, and he didn't think he was vain in wanting that recognized. His role, not him.

"Well," he said, not sure what to do from here. It seemed she wasn't in love with the Weasley wizard. That was, he had to admit, a relief. "I'm confused," he said. One thing she'd said threw him a bit.

"And you're admitting it?"

"Impertinent witch," he said with a snigger. "You mentioned picking his socks up. Is he living with you?"

"Oh good lord, no. I'm not sure I could live with someone without being married. I put down very strict rules before we left on our hunt. Friends, the three of us, nothing else. I didn't want that complication. The locket did it for us, though. It fed on his insecurities. I wanted Harry over him. I meant during our time on the run, he refused to pick up after himself."

That relieved him more than was probably appropriate.

"Tell me about your year," he prompted.

She'd finished her brandy by now and was onto the wine.

They both talked about their years. It was odd for him to do so, and so openly. It was refreshing to discover that someone else hadn't had it so easy either. It made him feel less alone, more a part of the whole of something.

Before he knew it it was well after midnight.

And if he saw Lucius, Narcissa, or Draco Malfoy in the next little while he'd probably hex them knowing they'd allowed harm to come to his witch. He realized, of course, they had no choice. He knew that, but it didn't lessen the feeling inside to punish those who'd harbored her torturers.

"I really should get you back to your quarters, Hermione."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed if his ears weren't deceiving him.

She had, in fact, polished off the bottle of wine as they talked.

"I have to write to Harry and Ronald, too."

"Why?"

Her lips curved up into a smile that betrayed her amusement at his question. Oddly, he didn't take offense to it. He knew she wasn't laughing at him. "Because I've been here two days now and haven't even told them that I arrived safely."

"Ah," he said, though he didn't quite understand the need. He'd never felt accountable to anyone. He'd never truly had a friend who cared about his well-being. Not even Lily. Maybe his mother his first year or two here as a student, but he didn't recall that being the case.

Was that how things normally worked? He guessed he'd never really paid attention to what his Slytherins did with their personal time.

"Have you done anything to change your quarters?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm just wondering if you changed anything now that your servitude and the war is over."

"Oh, no, not really. Maybe eventually. Is that your way of suggesting I'm living in squalor, Hermione?"

"No, of course not. I just see nothing personal, Severus. No pictures, nothing."

"I don't really have any personal things. My books, I suppose, but not like you are talking about."

"Hmm," she said.

"It hasn't really been my focus."

"I suppose you have been rather preoccupied."

He chuckled softly and that clearly surprised her.

"Yes, I'm capable of laughing, Hermione."

"Until this moment I don't think I ever saw evidence of it, but I'm glad that you can. And you should do it more often."

"I'd give the same answer as far as why I haven't that I did for having no personal items on display."

"I know. Well, your face looks rather fetching when you do so."

She stood then and he watched as she walked to his kitchen area with her now empty wine glass and the snifter he'd given her earlier. She returned a minute later empty handed and walked toward him.

"You don't really have to walk me to my room, Severus. I didn't mean to keep you up so late."

"You didn't keep me up late, Hermione, and what kind of wizard would I be if I allowed you to walk through the dark halls unaccompanied?"

"Can I help you with brewing tomorrow?"

"If you'd like. I'm sure you have other people who'd like you to spend time with them."

"I don't want you to think I take your offer lightly or for granted."

"I'm not a slave driver, Hermione. This is as you have time."

"And I have time tomorrow."

"Very well," he said, standing and walking with her to his door. He opened it and led her a different way through the hall then they'd taken from his office. This led to the main hallway.

"I will ensure as of tomorrow that the floo from my office is connected to your shared sitting room. I don't foresee Messrs Longbottom and Wright taking advantage of that."

"I think you're safe in that assumption. That would be very kind, thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he said. "I'll have it linked as Apprentices Common Room."

"Thank you. Of course that means I won't get the pleasure of you walking me back to my rooms again."

He glanced at her then, unsure if she was serious or teasing. The look on her face seemed sincere and she, as he knew from the years as her teacher, tended to wear her emotions and feelings on her sleeve. She'd also claimed to find him fetching a moment ago.

"All you have to do is ask."

"Good evening, Isaac," Hermione said in greeting when they'd reached her quarters.

"Good evening, Hermione. Professor Snape," he said with a polite bow of his head. The lion was still gone from the portrait. Or had come and gone again. She supposed that was a possibility.

"Will I see you at breakfast then, Severus?"

"You will."

"Will my spot be changed once the students arrive?"

"I highly doubt it."

"Oh?"

"We don't really have assigned seats beyond Minerva getting the seat center of the table. Usually the deputy sits next to her. Otherwise, it's sit where you want. Yes, the apprentices usually sit at either end, but it's been a while since there have been any and even so it was under Albus' time as headmaster so Minerva can do as she pleases. I suspect if anything Professor Bergman would move elsewhere so that you three are at the end and I'm one spot over."

"Hmm," she said with a slight frown.

"Truthfully, I loathe sitting next to anyone. It's one of the reasons I took so many meals in my quarters. I'd come when Albus required it of me and no more frequently."

"I see. Well, I'm glad that I'm acceptable company then. I just hope I'm up to the task of keeping good enough conversation with you all year so that you don't regret it."

"I'm sure that's unlikely, Hermione."

"Well, good night, I appreciate the escort home."

He bowed his head a bit. "Anytime. Good night, Mr. Van Amburgh."

"Same to you, Professor Snape."

Severus stepped away from the entrance so that she could give her portrait her password. He paused briefly to ensure she actually entered her rooms safely before heading back to his in the dungeons.

Severus heard the Bloody Baron's chains as he got to his door and whispered the password.

"Good evening," he said to the fellow member of his house.

"Professor Snape. I look forward to what Slytherin will be this year with your undivided attention."

"It will be an interesting year," Severus admitted.

"I was worried for a while that you were going to repeat my mistakes."

"You no longer are?"

"No, not only didn't you but you have more than atoned for that which you felt responsible for. You have represented Slytherin House well."

He was talking about Lily. Did the Baron think he was going to murder Lily Evans? Had he been that far gone? That obsessed? God, he had never entertained the idea, even when he'd found out Lily was pregnant with the child that turned out to be Harry Potter.

"I'm glad that your concerns were found to be invalid," he said simply. What else could he say?

"As am I," the poltergeist said. "Now that new Gryffindor you…"

"That will be all," Severus said quickly, cutting him off from saying more. He was not ready to discuss Hermione with anyone, least of all a bloody ghost.

"She is a pretty one."

"Baron, I said that will be all."

"Very well. Good night, Professor."

Severus sighed heavily as he made his way into his quarters for the night.

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com