She gasped and he looked at her through the curtain of his hair.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

She was stroking the cover of the book now, as if the book itself held answers for her. She looked confused but not as if she was going to flee or run to Albus and tell him a professor had toyed with her memories.

That was good.

"Miss Granger," he said simply, knowing surely she did understand.

She wasn't dumb. She even, unconsciously or not, recognized that the book he'd presented to her was the key.

She may not understand why, but she knew the memories were real. He didn't remove the memories from her mind completely, just clouded them so when she got to Hogwarts she wouldn't recognize him as the man she'd encountered here and there over the years. He wouldn't expect a five-year-old to recognize he was the same man she saw when she was nine or ten anyway. Though, their brief talk of bats when she was five had been … enjoyable.

"You played with my mind," she said, eyes wide.

"I did not. Never! They were always there."

He would never have risked her mind in that fashion. Obliviating someone was nothing to toy with, and he very rarely had time to do more than what he'd done. He supposed, in truth, he liked that there was the chance she would remember him when she got to Hogwarts.

"But why?" She scrunched her nose, furrowing her brow as she did.

"A variety of reasons. Most importantly, I'd like to work with you on occlumency."

Okay, that being most important was a lie, but she didn't know that and likely never would realize it wasn't the truth. He'd known all along he'd have to have a reason for doing this that she'd accept without question.

"Occlumency!" Her face brightened and then it went blank again as if she thought it was a trap. "Me, Sir?"

She frowned, biting her lower lip. Her eyes, though, brightened again as she apparently thought of him teaching her something.

"Yes. Your partner in crime was abhorrent, but you I think would be able to grasp the art."

"Really?"

She sounded so hopeful. It was amusing and gave him hope that she'd actually try to learn and in turn teach The Boy Who Lived To Be A Pain In His Ass.

"Indeed. And perhaps after practice you can impart some of what you learn onto Mr. Potter. It would be helpful I'm quite certain."

He let the idea rest there, allowing her to pick up the gauntlet of being Potter's tutor in something else if she so desired. He had no doubt she already acted as tutor in many subjects for both Potter and Weasley.

"Oh, yes, of course," she said, nodding as if she understood his request. Just like that she'd seemingly forgotten her line of questioning as to why she had these memories to begin with.

"Has he told you anything about our lessons?"

He was prodding, wondering what Potter ran back and told his cohorts about how pathetic Severus had been.

"No, Sir, only that you grew frustrated that he couldn't grasp it."

"Show me," he said.

She was watching him closely and nodded in agreement. With a murmured "legilimens" he was in her mind. The memories of the night he had discontinued the lessons with Harry Potter right there for the taking. He was out very quickly, not looking for or at anything else. He nodded then unsure why exactly he cared if she knew of his childhood.

"When shall we start?" she asked, sounding excited and he had to bite back the chuckle that threatened to escape.

Of course she was excited to learn something few knew and he was a known expert in. That excitement seemed to override her confusion as to why she now was in possession of memories she hadn't recalled only a few moments ago.

"Tonight? I have no detentions or meetings. Say eight o'clock?"

"Okay, sure. I mean yes, Sir," she said, smiling widely at him.

She pondered the book she still held in her left hand. She ran her right index finger along the cover and the letters there. A smile tugged at her lips. The kind she bestowed upon Potter and Weasley when she was happy with them.

"You gave this to me."

She seemed to just now realize the copy of Arthur Miller's The Crucible had been a gift to her from him in the past.

"Yes," he said simply.

"I know I said thank you then, but I thank you again, Sir."

He gave a curt nod.

"I can't wait to read it again, I'd forgotten all about it!"

He snorted none too softly at her enthusiasm.

Silence stretched between them. He wondered what she was thinking, but refrained from invading her mind again. He really had no need to and if he wanted her trust he would have to earn it and not plow through her mind at every turn.

"Anything else, Miss Granger?"

He arched an eyebrow at her to highlight the question. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but her seeming acceptance of the memories she'd just regained access to threw him a bit. He'd expected a typical teenaged reaction, a tantrum or something. Especially considering the memories were about him, her greasy git of a potions professor.

"No, Sir."

"I'll see you at eight o'clock then."

"Thank you," she said, walking to the door. "Sir?" she asked, her hand resting on it.

"Miss Granger?"

She took a deep breath and then exhaled it sharply. She dropped her shoulders a bit and shrugged. "Nothing, Sir."

She left then, leaving his classroom suddenly very quiet and rather lonely.

She hadn't been sure what she was supposed to tell Harry and Ron, so told them she had detention. Neither friend was pleased, but she didn't think Professor Snape would want anyone to know that he was teaching her privately. If she told Harry, he would get upset about it and be less likely to let Hermione teach him after she gained some experience herself. If she told Ron he'd have some criticism of Snape's character that had nothing to do with Hermione being given the opportunity to learn occlumency. This was something she knew she couldn't perfect just by reading about it.

The lesson had gone surprisingly well, she realized in bed later that night. She'd read about occlumency, of course, but she hadn't been able to practice it. So she had some knowledge, pitiful as it may have seemed to her professor who had been practicing the art since before she was born.

She turned onto her side, blinking as she willed her mind to unwind from the day. Crookshanks nudged his paw against her hand in a soothing manner, he always knew. All of the sudden she had years worth of … memories of Severus Snape appearing in her life randomly and from what she could tell without any reason. There were more than a few, too. He'd never been anything but polite to her even. In some of them he'd been not just polite but kind.

Why?

She reached for the copy of The Crucible . She couldn't even remember losing it. That wasn't unusual, she had so many books that one going missing could take a while to notice. When had he removed it from her collection, though? She couldn't recall when she last read it.

She remembered when he'd given it to her, though.

December 1991

She had no idea what drew her out to the backyard. It was chilly and quite late, but for whatever reason she was drawn there. It took her a second to recognize the figure standing there.

"Professor Snape?"

To say that she was surprised to see her rather cranky potions professor standing in her backyard was an understatement. How did he even know where she lived? What was he doing here?

"Miss Granger," he said, his tone not quite as formal or brusk as she was accustomed to from him.

"Is everything alright? Harry!"

"As far as I know, young Mr. Potter is just fine. As is everyone else from Hogwarts."

"Oh, okay then," she said.

Harry was okay. Ron and the Weasleys were okay. That was very good news. The confusion was back.

She drew her lower lip under her front teeth, a habit her parents had been trying to break her of for as long as she could remember. What did one do when your potions professor appeared in your backyard for no apparent reason?

Manners, Hermione, manners. Extend him the same courtesy you would any other visitor to your home. Remember all that your mother has taught you.

"It's cold, Sir. Did you want to, that is, would you like to come inside?"

"Your parents wouldn't approve…"

"They're not home," she said quickly, cutting off his protest. "A meeting with other area dentists. They'll be there for hours."

"Sounds enthralling," he jibed.

"Yes, well," she shrugged, not knowing what else to say. She had to admit she liked being home alone once in a while. She was surrounded by people the majority of her time at Hogwarts so some solitude was most welcome.

He hadn't moved from the spot and hadn't said anything more. Was she supposed to beg? Go out to him? She had no idea.

"So, then, did you want to come in? I can put on some tea."

He seemed pensive, regarding what she had no idea. It was tea not the Inquisition. Maybe her parents not being home gave him pause, but he was her professor. They wouldn't object to him being in their home.

"Very well," he said finally with a decisive nod.

She could feel him watching her in the kitchen. He was seated at the table that didn't usually seem so small. Not that he was an overly large man, but even seated in her kitchen he seemed to command attention.

"Did you have business in my part of town then?"

"Not particularly," he said shortly, offering nothing else.

"Okay," she said, bringing the tea tray to the table. Once the water boiled she could bring the pot over, but at least the cups and biscuits were here now.

He set a package on the table, tapping it with a fingertip. She'd never seen him this way. He seemed almost nervous or uncertain, neither of which was a word she'd ever thought to associate with him before now. He was the epitome of confidence and being collected, at least to her. Even amidst exploding cauldrons he retained that air about him.

"Oh, did you have a party to go to?"

"A what?"

He practically sneered the question. She supposed parties weren't his thing.

She nodded to the package on the table.

"The gift, Sir." It wasn't a ridiculous question.

"Oh, no, it's not a gift," he said quickly.

"All right," she said, nibbling on her lower lip again as she pondered that remark. It was wrapped as a gift would be. Complete with ribbon, though there was no bow. Certainly that implied it was a gift.

"The clerk misunderstood when I said I was buying it for someone and presumed it was a gift."

"I see," she said, though she didn't really.

She stood at the sound of the water boiling, preparing the tea before returning to the table.

"I'm not sure how you take yours," she admitted.

She did know how Professor McGonagall took hers, as expected considering she was her Head of House and they'd shared tea more than once since her arrival at Hogwarts.

He slid the wrapped package toward her, lifting his hand from it to prepare his tea. Two sugars and just a splash of milk she took note.

"Well," he said, regarding her as he took a sip of his tea.

"I'm sorry?"

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"You got me a gift, Sir?"

Now she was thoroughly confused. She hadn't gotten him anything. She hadn't gotten any professor other than McGonagall a gift. Was she supposed to? She had no idea what the expectations of such things were.

"It's NOT a gift," he sneered.

"Of course, Sir," she said, setting her hand on top of the package. She slid her cup out of the way so she could focus on opening it.

"I saw it as a sale item while shopping for other things and thought you might enjoy it."

A book! He'd given her a book!

She flipped it over to reveal the cover.

"The Crucible, Sir?"

"Yes, have you read it?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Salem," she said almost reverently.

"Again, I thought you might enjoy it."

"You thought I might enjoy a little light reading about people of my race being burned at the stake?"

"And how many times have you read Hogwarts: A History, Miss Granger?"

She blushed then. Was there anyone who didn't know?

"Quite right," she admitted.

They sipped their tea quietly. She was still puzzling over him giving her a not gift. He was at a bookstore and thought of her? Was it Flourish & Blotts? That seemed quite strange. Yet excitingly exhilarating. She wasn't sure she liked that feeling.

"Thank you, Sir, I look forward to reading it then."

He nodded curtly.

"Have you read it?"

"I have. It's a fictionalized account, of course, but when I was younger I wanted to read everything I could about my kind."

She nodded, brightening slightly in recognition of that mindset.

"As do I," she said, excited to meet someone who felt the same way. So many looked at her strangely that she wanted to learn all that she could.

More silence. Not exactly uncomfortable, but it was clear neither of them knew what to say. She imagined if she was a Slytherin this wouldn't seem like such a problem.

"I don't have anything for you," she murmured.

"Again, Miss Granger, it's not a gift so there is no need to feel as if you must reciprocate."

"Oh, but…"

"And if you tell anyone I got you a gift, I will hex you."

She giggled then, trying to stifle it to no avail.

"You find that funny?"

His tone suggested that he was surprised she found it funny versus scary. Professor Snape could be scary, of course, but he'd never hurt her. She knew that and while he'd upset her she'd never been scared of him.

"Well, yes, as you've already pointed out I'm quite familiar with Hogwarts: A History and know that as a professor you can not purposely harm a student, or put them in harm's way. So that would rule out hexing me."

He snorted.

She stood then, going the short way to the living room and the bookcase there. It took her a moment to find the book she was searching for as her parents were possibly close to being as voracious readers as she was. So new books were put on the shelves regularly. She plucked the book in question off the shelf and returned to the kitchen.

"What's this?" he asked, brow raised to accentuate his question.

"A book," she replied dryly.

"Don't be obtuse, Miss Granger. It's not becoming in the least."

"Well, you gave me a muggle literature book, so that led me to believe you have some familiarity with the literature I grew up with and read when I'm not attending Hogwarts.."

"I do."

"An American friend I met when I went with my parents to one of their conventions…"

"Does this have a point anytime soon, Miss Granger?"

"Sorry. He recommended this author and I thought maybe you might enjoy it. I just finished it not long ago as did my parents and it was quite good. It's not about witches, though."

"You're giving me a book?"

He looked incredulous. Had no one given him a book before? She found that difficult to believe.

"Well, sure. My parents both read it before I came home for the holidays so it would just sit here collecting dust otherwise."

She pushed the book toward him. He took it, carefully avoiding his hand coming anywhere near hers she couldn't help but notice.

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

"His dad went to law school with the author. The guy I met I mean, though it doesn't sound as if they were closely associated or anything."

He finished his tea and the lemon biscuit he'd taken to go with it. She wouldn't have pegged him as a lemon biscuit man, but she'd set them on the plate as an afterthought. They were, in truth, up there with her favorites when she wasn't in the mood for chocolate. Not many others chose them, though. Her mom bought them for Hermione and would send the remaining ones to Hogwarts with her when her break was done.

"What will you do for Christmas then, Sir?"

"Much the same as I do any day," he shrugged.

"Oh," she said simply, having no idea what that was.

Did he have a family? A home? He must have that at least because she didn't think that professors stayed at Hogwarts over the summer months. Then what did she know?

"It's a great time to catch up on things I get behind on during the fall."

"I suppose it would be."

"Thank you for the tea, Miss Granger."

"You're welcome, Professor."

He stood then clearly preparing to leave.

"You can use the front door," she offered, wanting to be polite.

"I didn't want your neighbors to think anything."

"They wouldn't."

She brought the tea tray to the sink area and walked him to the door. She noticed he held the copy of The Firm she'd given him. She liked that thought.

"Happy Christmas, Professor," she said as she opened the door for him.

"Happy Christmas, Miss Granger."

He nodded politely, whispering something that left her wondering why she stood there with the front door open.

September 1996

"So when did he take the book back, Crooks?" She stroked her familiar's back as she thought through the memory.

Had he read the John Grisham book she'd given him? Did that lead to him reading others by the author? He had written a few by now she knew and all seemed popular.

"I don't understand, Crooks," she whispered. "He doesn't seem the type to randomly pay anyone, least of all me, visits. What was the point?"

There were several visits, too, spanning really her whole life. As a child they'd been brief. Ten minutes or so, in passing. As she had gotten older, though, the visits lasted longer. They were still not very long, but long enough like her first Christmas as a Hogwarts student where they'd been able to share tea.

Was she missing something? There were so many, it was hard to focus on any detail she maybe should have paid attention to.

"He gave me a gift, Crooks," she murmured as Morpheus finally claimed her for the night.

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com