Dear Professor Snape:

I appreciate your quick response as I know you are a busy man. I brought the Pulsatio to California, but I fear it was too late. The Slayer had already offered up her own blood. She managed to survive somehow, barely. The vampire in question survived as well.

I will hang onto the potion for a little while to ensure the threat is gone. Once I'm assured that it is, I will return it to you via owl. Fortunately, Beatrice seems to be not just loyal but as if she's bonded to me and those that employ me don't fully understand the bond between a witch and their familiar. (Can I have two? I've never heard of such a thing.)

May I ask, how is Hogwarts healing? And you, Sir?

If you do not wish to extend our correspondence I understand. As you may or may not realize I have been rather out of touch but I find myself curious as to how things are progressing post-war beyond what the Daily Prophet reports that is.

I don't begin to believe that without me it won't progress well. I know in your eyes I'm insufferable and overly eager. I did make the acquaintance of people during my time in the magical world who I came to care for and respect. You included.

I did read your editorial response to Tawny Spears' ideas on improving gillyweed in April's Potions Monthly. Yes I know, the editorial was not you (wink wink). I am familiar enough with your acidic tone that I could almost imagine how much red ink you went through reading the original article and then penning the response. Your secret is safe with me! (And I completely understand why you may not yet be ready to publish under your given name even in a letter to the editor, but I do hope to see it in print again sometime, Sir.)

Before I ramble too much I will close. I'm off to help Buffy and her friends research. Remind me one day to tell you why I hope never to see another snake in my life! (I assure you I'm not being cheeky or tactless and am very aware that your sentiments likely aren't too far off from my own on this subject.)

Regards and Respectfully,

Hermione J. Granger

Hermione sighed as she sealed the letter, sending it with an intercontinental owl from Sunnydale. (Why she was surprised a town its size had a thriving magical community she wasn't sure.)

She was beginning to get a little suspect of the Watchers Council. Oh, Lydia was good overall. She, like Hermione, was born to research. It was what was being done (or not done) with her research that was making her question things.

Maybe Albus fucking Dumbledore's subterfuge for years was just making her suspicious. (Yes, she was still livid about everything that hadn't been said and the half-truths that had been. This continued anger was indication to her that she was not ready to return.)

Or finding out that the Watchers Council had a temperature controlled storeroom full of generations of slayers blood yet no one had offered any to Angel when he was dying and it was clear Buffy was going to offer the vampire her own blood.

He was a vampire, they don't assist vampires. Yada yada. She understood it, but she didn't agree with it.

It wasn't as cut and dried or black and white when it came to good and evil she was learning. They had to know, too, ultimately this slayer would think with her heart and offer her own blood to Angel. It was obvious, despite his curse that accompanied his soul making it impossible for them to be together, that she still loved him.

Maybe they'd wanted her to. Did they want her dead?

Where her eighteenth birthday test had failed to give them the outcome they may have desired this should have ended with that happening. Except by some miracle Angel stopped just in the nick of time. Hermione liked to believe it was because ultimately, even delirious from the poison and near death, he knew it was Buffy.

Angel managed to pull the chains Buffy had used to shackle him to the wall at his mansion when he'd returned unexpectedly from the hell dimension he'd been in. He'd escaped, seemingly because he knew the Slayer, Buffy, was in trouble and ultimately saved her life just six months ago. She'd described him as more animal-like than man. Somehow, though, he'd known she was in trouble. As logical as Hermione was, the romantic in her (and, yes, she could admit even she believed in romance) liked to believe that he truly had known or sensed she'd needed him. No one would really know, she supposed.

One thing she did know, though, she did not think the Watchers Council should have access to Pulsatio.

Professor Snape had been implying that it could assist with torture. She read between the lines. How much information could they get out of someone if they heard their comrade go through excruciating torture to the point of death, only to "discover" their comrade was not in fact dead and their life was in their hands. Diabolical. Hermione knew it wouldn't work on everyone, but it would work on some. It was a risk a torturer could take and think they had a good chance either way of it working.

Once assured there would be no more attempts on Angel's life by Mayor Wilkins she'd return it to the potion master.

"Do you have a friend we're not aware of, Severus?" Minerva asked when Hermione's owl delivered a third letter. He assumed that this was the return of the Pulsatio.

He glared at the headmistress with a huff before turning his attention to Beatrice who was looking at the bacon and toast on his plate with interest. He broke a piece of each off, setting them on his empty side plate, tapping it with a finger. The owl went to work while he opened the package. The smell of fresh fruit hit him full force and he had to admit even full from a Hogwarts breakfast, it smelled delicious.

Dear Professor Snape:

I am returning your potion to you. As a thank you for trusting me as you obviously did by giving it to me without question, I thought that you might like some freshly harvested avocados and olallieberries. I'm also enclosing some Kohlrabi. I'm unsure if this is something that you'd eat, but I know the peel can be used as a potion ingredient. I hope you will accept these small gifts as a token of my appreciation for your assistance without question as well as your discretion. Most anyone else would have wondered why I was wanting to reverse the effects of Killer of the Dead and many would've turned my letters over to Rita Skeeter for a monetary reward.

I haven't heard from you after my previous letter regarding your well being or that of Hogwarts. I promise that I will take the hint and not pester you further. I just wanted to get the potion sent back to you where I know it will be safe.

I hope that you enjoy your summer holiday. If there's anyone I can think of who deserves to be able to do that it's you, Professor.

Be well.

Regards and Respectfully,

Hermione J. Granger

He eyed the contents of the box with wary interest. The avocados were the ripest he'd ever seen, just in time for him to go home for the summer where he could make some guacamole. He picked up one of the olallieberries from the box, placed it in his mouth, and found himself savoring the taste.

The food at Hogwarts was second to none, but there was something about farm-fresh produce as these berries and the avocados appeared to be that could not be beat. The olallieberry he knew had a very short timespan for picking. The Kohlrabi was of little interest to him from a culinary perspective, but the peel had medicinal purposes. The elves would certainly put the remainder to use. Like the avocados and olallieberries it was fresh. He knew what he'd be doing with his evening.

Severus glanced at Beatrice who was looking at the olallieberry on his plate with interest.

"You won't like it," he whispered.

He did break off one of the smaller pieces from the second berry he'd chosen and set it on his side plate. He gave a low chuckle as Beatrice mouthed the berry and then spit it out.

"I told you. To the owlery with you or back to your mistress," he murmured. "I have nothing to return to her."

The owl squawked but left the Great Hall without further ado. He stood then, returning to his lab in the dungeons. He took the Kohlrabis from the box, eyeing them with admiration before starting his day.

It was well after midnight that night as he lay in bed that his mind turned to the witch who'd sent him fruit and a hard to find in London fresh item that was good for potions. Sleeplessness wasn't a foreign occurrence to him.

Post-war sometimes he forced himself to remain awake because the nightmares were awful. There had been no nightmares tonight. Unless one counted his mother's voice internally scolding him for not thanking the witch for her generous gifts or acknowledging her previous letter.

He sighed when the thought wouldn't leave him that his mother would be disappointed in his rudeness. He had been raised better. He just never until now had to display the manners his mother had imparted on him. For years he was able to get away with being rude and dismissive. It was a given, expected behaviour from him.

Dear Miss Granger,

Evidently I have more of my mother's Prince upbringing in me than I realized. It was not nightmares about that blasted snake keeping me awake tonight. (Had it been anyone but you I would most certainly have taken offense to your snake reference in a previous correspondence. As it is, I know that you don't have it in you to be that flippantly cruel. Without reason at any rate.) It was the thought that I had been given a generous gift, certainly one more than a potion returned to me intact warranted, that has me writing this well after midnight.

I am not experienced in personal correspondence so we'll see how this goes.

Beatrice tried an olallieberry but it was apparently not palatable as she spit it out. I tried telling her! She is a lovely creature, unusual for this area but I suspect you are already aware of that. As to whether you could have two familiars. It's not something I've researched myself, never even having one. However, I do not see why two very different creatures could not connect with you in such a fashion. If anyone could go against the grain and have two it would be you after all.

He paused in writing with a sigh here. He'd said thank you. Should he continue? What he'd written so far was more than sufficient. And yet… he found himself wanting to write more. He was curious.

Hogwarts perseveres. It always has and always will. Reparations were completed in a timely fashion and were more than sufficient. I'd like to say I don't notice any difference but as someone who has spent nearly thirty years in this castle, I notice.

As far as myself. I guess the same could be said as what I just stated above regarding Hogwarts. I will persevere. I survived the second war most unexpectedly, and between you and me (and perhaps the late hour) I imagine it will take some time to come to terms with the fact that at close to forty I am my own man.

Finally.

So, how am I?

You asked the question so I assume you want a truthful response. I have never pulled back punches with you, and I shant now just because this is a different form of communication and you are no longer a student of mine.

I am surviving.

I sleep when I can. Some nights I long for Dreamless Sleep but will not go that route, I've come too far to turn into an addict. I teach my classes and tend to my gardens (work and personal). I write, as you've cleverly noticed, and read. I take the time on occasion to sit by the Black Lake and commune with the squid.

One day I imagine this short list of things that I do will seem dull and tedious to me, but as of this moment after years of little time to call my own I am enjoying it.

I leave for home in a few days for the summer. The avocados you sent will be coming with me and I will putz around in my very muggle kitchen, make some fresh guacamole and perhaps some salsa with diced avocados in it. I will sit in front of my telly, watching an old Doctor Who episode that's sure to be airing on the BBC while imbibing in a muggle beer and some chips and salsa. Doesn't that sound ordinarily boring and dull?

I am glad the Slayer survived. I have never met one personally, but have read some of the lore surrounding them. I can admit to being interested in how much is based on fact as the books Hogwarts offers on the subject seemed to be mostly rooted in folktales. I can also admit to being intrigued as to what it is you're doing that you're mixed up with slayers, vampires, and apocalypses because I know you're not working for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures based on the numerous articles the Prophet and (more reputable) Quibbler have posted seeking information on your whereabouts over the past year or so.

Did essentially seven years at war not squelch your need for action and adventure?

In closing, I find your correspondence neither tiresome nor pestering in nature. Beatrice is a tolerable companion when she waits for a reply from me. Make of that what you will.

Sincerely,

Severus T. Snape

He sealed the letter and confident thanks to the late hour that he would encounter no one in the walls with the exception possibly of Filch he made his way to the owlery to send the letter on its way.

He returned to his room, hoping between the unexpected walk and easing his feelings of guilt at not returning the witch's letter with one of his own, he hoped that Morpheus would be his friend tonight.

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com