"Is there anything else then, Sir?" Hermione asked. This was the last night of her first year she'd be assisting him. There were a couple of days left of the school year, but he'd insisted there was nothing for her to do after this night.

She'd scrubbed cauldrons. She'd organized his store rooms. She'd dusted shelves. She'd swept floors and cleaned off the tables in his lab one final time.

She had no idea if he used them during the summer or not. He must. Rumour was that he made the Wolfsbane potion, which was a monthly occurrence. He'd never admitted it, and she'd seen no evidence he did, but she couldn't think of any other potions masters out there who would do it. He had assisted Professor Prins in the creation of it years ago according to her research.

She'd tried asking, but to this point had been shut down. Bearing Madam Prins' advice, she'd quit asking.

The first few weeks of their … project had been odd to say the least. It was clear that he didn't want her here. That he was looking for any excuse to tell her to get the hell out of his lab and never return. She had no doubt she was even here because of Madam Prins.

She'd kept her mouth shut, asking questions that were only absolutely required for the task he'd given her each particular evening. Those first few sessions she'd done little more than scrub cauldrons.

Eventually, he'd let her assist with potions. Chopping or stirring came first. It was about March he'd let her do the headache potion Madam Pomfrey needed on her own. He watched as she worked at a table, but didn't intervene.

That table had quickly become her table. After that evening of headache potion, she'd come in to find supplies ready for her with no instructions. They would talk about the ingredients he'd set out for her and what she thought they were for.

More than once or twice she'd been wrong, but the past few weeks or so, she hadn't been. Sometimes he'd throw in an ingredient that didn't belong with the others. Obviously an attempt to test her. Now that she had caught onto that possibility, she was far more capable of answering. And sounding confident doing so.

"This arrangement is adequate for you, Miss Granger?" he asked once he confirmed everything around the lab was as it should be for a hiatus. He hadn't said much tonight, which meant she hadn't either. She took her cue from him. Some evenings, he seemed … chattier than others. (Those were usually the nights they had good discussions about ingredients and potions.)

"Um, yes," she replied.

What else was she supposed to say? It took away from her studying some, but she was still learning. And, honestly, since talking with Madam Prins she'd taken a look at just how much work she was doing. Shorter essays meant she didn't feel quite so pressed for time. Not feeling as if she had to answer every question professors posed meant she didn't feel the … urge to read so far ahead. She still stayed a chapter ahead, but no more. She actually read a couple of fiction books during the Easter holidays.

"You would like to continue it next year when you return?"

"Oh, yes, Sir," she said. Would she!

She hadn't expected that. She had no idea what brought on the offer for him to join him if it wasn't Madam Prins. Had the librarian told him what she'd said about him? He was, in fact, brilliant. She wasn't sure she wanted him to know she thought that, though.

"All right. Whenever you've settled in then after your return, you may make your way down here."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Your assistance has been tolerable. I hope you have an enjoyable summer."

"You, too, thank you."

He gave a soft grunt, as if her wishing him a good summer was unusual.

"Do you have plans?" She asked the question as an afterthought. Curiosity, she supposed, as to what the man did with his free time.

"Plans?"

"Yes, for the summer?" Surely he did things.

"No," he said simply.

And didn't ask about hers. She could take a hint.

"Well, good night then, Sir. I will see you in September then."

"Mm," he said, resuming whatever it was he was doing. Inspecting her dusting job no doubt.

She sighed a bit, wishing he wasn't as prickly. If it had been Professor McGonagall she was working with outside of class, she was pretty sure she'd have tea with her!

"Oh, there you are," Harry said once she got back to their common room. He looked as if he was waiting for her. Not totally unusual, but he was one of a few who knew she went to their potions classroom after dinner some evenings.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

"Um, I know my mum knows how the postal service works and everything, but," he shrugged, handing her what appeared to be a letter.

She opened it, revealing an invitation to his birthday in July. She glanced up at him.

"I wanted to be sure you actually got it."

"Oh, Harry, thank you. I'll talk to my parents."

Harry had been the only one she'd gotten to be real friends with. She knew at first he couldn't stand her, the same as everyone else. She'd helped him, though, with a more than difficult Transfiguration assignment. He'd gotten an Outstanding, and it hadn't been her work he'd gotten it with, just her coaching, talking it through together. That had been in January, shortly after they returned from Christmas holidays. Since then, she wouldn't say she was swimming in friends, but Harry, Neville Longbottom, and Parvati Patil had been nicer to her. They sat with her at meals even. More oddly (and likely importantly), they talked to her at meals. With them doing so, others did, too. Even Ronald Weasley was being nicer to her. She never thought that would happen! And people came to her to ask for her opinion on things. It was so odd.

"I hope you can come." He sounded so sincere. How could so much change just from helping him with an assignment?

"I'm sure it'll work."

She wasn't actually sure how she'd get there, or what she'd get Harry. She considered him a friend, but they weren't that good of friends that she knew much about what he'd want for his birthday. His mum was muggleborn she knew, but they lived in the Potter home. So, maybe something muggle? She'd have to think on it. Thankfully, she had nothing but time on her hands between now and July thirty-first.

"Great."

She'd been surprised the next day when Harry and Neville invited her to join them in their car for the Express ride home to London. She was a little jealous of both wizards, truthfully. Neville was a natural in Herbology. It sounded as if his grandmother wasn't overly fond of his goal, but his dad had apparently told his mum to mind her own business. Evidently, his grandmother could be a bit … overbearing and scary, so Neville had been shocked when his father so staunchly supported him and went against her.

His interest in Herbology gave him an interest in potions. He wasn't as quick with them, though. She'd found since formally being assigned as his partner in January, that given the chance to suss out the purpose of the potion and each ingredient. Well, he actually did all right. Their first few potions together. She'd had to really curb her need to finish fastest and just do the steps for him. Madam Prins' words had come to the front of her mind, though, reminding her that she wouldn't be doing this wizard any favours. So, she'd bitten her tongue and let him help her make the potions.

Professor Snape seemed to treat her … differently then, too. Almost as if he'd assigned Neville as her partner to test her. She wasn't sure why. If it was some sort of … experiment, she wished he'd just said so.

That thought paved way to the idea that experiment or not, she'd learned so much assisting him evenings. Even the nights she scrubbed cauldrons she learned things, like which ingredients worked better in a pewter cauldron versus copper. (And were, therefore, easier or harder to clean.)

She gave a small smile as she watched the scenery speed by out the window. Maybe this would turn out okay after all. She'd vowed to give it to the end of the year. Her parents would have let her stay home at Christmas holidays if she pushed for it, but they encouraged her to at least finish out her first year. That was how they were with anything she'd tried to this point: finish what you committed to.

She was glad she had. What a difference six months could make!

***

Erik slid his arms around his wife's waist. They were at King's Crossing to meet their grandchildren and great grandchildren getting off the Express. Them being here was nothing new, so no one found it odd.

That was their excuse anyway.

They were both here to see young Hermione get off the Express.

"She'll be back," he whispered into his wife's ear, kissing her temple.

"I know."

"You do? She told you?"

"No, she didn't have to. She and Harry found their way to one another. And from there…"

"Yes," he said with a nod. "If it means anything my younger self hasn't complained about her since well before Christmas."

She scoffed a bit. "That's exceedingly good to know."

"You were right."

"Mm. I'd make you repeat that, but you'd just take it back."

"You were. I've tried over the past few months, to think of something else she could have done. I'm sure Minerva or Filius could have found something. Minerva still likes her, despite not being her head of house, so I suspect anything they did would have been more social than educational. And Filius. Well, I think he would have seen her as a first year and treated her as all the other ones, no matter what she's shown she's capable of."

She nodded, sliding her hands along the backs of his at her abdomen. Some would say her hands weren't those of a lady. She had blemishes and scars. She'd likely have calluses if he didn't remove them for her. He didn't care, but it made him feel good doing those little things for her. They were her hands, though, and she always knew precisely how to use them. This was no exception. She appreciated his words. Her touch told him that without her having to say a word.

"How many are coming home with us?"

She snorted softly.

"You will say too many," she whispered.

"I would never say that."

"Erik Prins, you cannot lie to me."

"Well, only to you."

She turned in his arms then. "Our kitchen table will be full in the morning."

He tilted his head and she slid her hand through his hair when he did that.

"Magnus is going to stay the night with Lauren and Jacob is doing the same with Timothy and Simone."

Simone and Lauren were both three years old, and that was about their limit any more for extended stay visits with children. Any younger than that, they were welcome for an overnight, but they both found that they just weren't built for newborns or infants anymore. They'd both said in a pinch, but with so many to step in that didn't happen.

"No wives?"

"No wives."

"You will like that?"

"I will," she admitted. She didn't begrudge their children and grandchildren getting older. She couldn't stop them even if she did. She had no unkind words about the spouses of any of their descendents either. She loved, though, when one of them wanted to "come home" even if it was just for the purpose of bringing a child or two to them to stay a week or two.

"I was thinking maybe we could convince them to help us cook fish…"

He chuckled. "Ulterior motives. Yes, we can work on showing the girls how to fish."

"Excellent."

To anyone else, he would perhaps sound as if he was grumbling in complaint. His wife knew full well that wasn't the case. He truly loved that their home was one their grandchildren and great grandchildren wanted to stay in. Not only that, but that their parents (and their parents) allowed them to. If they'd been living in their original time, there was no way in hell he would ever leave a child or grandchild of his alone with his father. He wasn't even sure he'd allow them to be alone with his mother. Understanding why she was the way she was, didn't mean he believed she was a good mother.

"You are truly all right?"

"I am. I don't know why I needed to see her get off the Express."

"Proof she finished the year as she was supposed to."

"I suppose that was it."

He leaned in then, finding her ear. "Proof there was no sorcerer's stone or anything."

She nodded then. It went unspoken. They hadn't said much of anything about … things since Halloween 1981 had passed without incident.

"Shall we get home then so we can ensure we're stocked up for a dozen children?"

"Yes, let's."

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com