Severus was up early this morning putting the finishing touches on a potion that had simmered overnight. Just as he'd finished bottling it up he heard a tapping at his lab's door.

The most frustrating part about his lack of voice so far was his inability to bid people "enter" when they knocked on his door. This meant that he either had to open the door for them with his wand or walk to it and open it. As it was early to the point no one should be wandering the castle he walked toward the door cautiously.

He scowled at the owl that greeted him by flying into his lab. Thankfully he'd had nothing brewing and had finished bottling or the potential of owl feathers or dander would have sent his day into a bad one. This was a potion that wasn't replaceable in a few hours' time. It took weeks to prepare, and it was due soon. He was ahead of the deadline, but not if it were to get contaminated and he had to start from scratch.

The owl dropped a letter onto his table and flew to a bookcase, peering at him before moving on to preening his feathers. Severus watched the owl in consternation for a moment. The audacity of the bird to make itself at home in his lab! He was obviously exhausted and more than just slightly well-traveled. Severus summoned some water and treats for it.

He walked to his table then, scowling. This was not Beatrice but he recognized the handwriting nonetheless. The nerve of her. What was so urgent that her owl couldn't wait a couple of hours for breakfast like they usually did?

Professor Snape,

I apologize for the urgent owl, but brewing potions is not part of my job description nor have I seen equipment to do so where I work. As it is, even if I had the means to do so, I do not have enough time to return to my office, make a batch, and return to California. 

Could I trouble you for five doses of the strongest hangover potion that you have? I looked at the local apothecary, but what they were offering was complete rubbish. I have been assured that after three hours' rest the owl will be able to return to me in California. If you are suspect of this time frame, as I admit I am not at all familiar with round-trip intercontinental owl travel, please use another owl from Hogwarts owlery who meets the travel needs.

Appreciatively,

Hermione J. Granger

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing from the letter to the owl in question who was now, in fact, sleeping. He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. There was no way it would be acceptable to send the owl back out for such a trip after only three hours rest. Whoever told her that obviously wanted payment for a round-trip owl.

He shook his head.

What did she think this was?

Who did she think she was dealing with?

And yet, as he felt his scowl decrease at the gentle sounds of the owl settling himself to sleep. He realized logically that she would not trouble him for his strongest potions merely because of a night of debauchery. If anything she would not want to admit to anyone, least of all him, that she'd overindulged. Good witches with proper upbringings like Hermione Granger didn't do things like that. He snorted at that. Of course they did. He'd met many in his lifetime who did, but they weren't this particular witch. She didn't pretend to be one thing while behaving in a different way.

In some ways that was the part that was most mystifying to him about her. He'd never met anyone before who was truly what they seemed. And nothing else. No hidden motives. No hidden skeletons. It was off putting.

Yes, initially she'd been tedious and tiresome, adding hours to his grading time. However, as she'd gotten older (and gotten busier working at saving Potter's life) she'd become a little less so.

Did she even drink? He'd never seen any indication that she did while a student here beyond the normal mischief students got into.

California.

She'd mentioned it in previous letters.

If she was in California he wondered if this had something to do with the Slayer. The witch certainly did get around. Then again, he only presumed she was based out of London. She could have relocated to California. Or anywhere for that matter.

Regardless, as he had a few minutes to calm down he believed that she wouldn't send an owl across America and an ocean merely to get some hangover potions from him without good reason. He knew this to be true of this witch, unless of course, she'd changed drastically in the past year and a half. Somehow he doubted that was the case even if he hadn't seen her in eighteen months.

The idea of an intoxicated Hermione Granger was somewhat amusing, though. So much so, in fact, he chuckled to himself as he sighed and walked to his private stores. Not as amusing as her turning herself into a cat her second year for certain, but good for a private chortle  nonetheless.

Lord knew that he had to take his laughs where they came from.

In his personal storeroom, he grabbed five vials of his strongest hangover potion. He had to chuckle at her description of the local offering being rubbish. He'd have to research to see who the proprietor was and who he contracted with.

The tip for potential new business alone earned her a few vials of hangover potion. These particular potions in his private stores did not get used nearly so often anymore. Contrary to what many thought, he was not a drunkard. He had hardly imbibed since 1980.

He couldn't afford to!

He kept it on him in case he was in a position in his role as a spy to have to drink. Anything more than two drinks he downed some to keep his wits about him. Intoxicated people could develop loose lips. He could have ended up dead if that happened to him. People thinking that he was under the influence had netted him information he wouldn't have been privy to if they suspected that he was sober.

One of many things he was glad was behind him. He had an example to feed off in his father as to how a drunkard should act, but he hated doing it because he swore never to be like that man. He hoped going forward he could be as different from him as he could be.

Miss Granger,

Hangover potion? Really? Not to mention your owl nearly ruining a potion that took me weeks to finish. If he had, it wouldn't be a hangover potion that you were in need of!

I'm of the mind to think that you are wasting my time now. I have sent what you requested, however, on the off chance that it is indeed necessary.

Might I suggest the next time you have such a request that you make it in person? I find it difficult to believe with all of that knowledge you've acquired in that brain of yours that you do not know how to make and use a portkey. You could send your patronus from the gates, while you are disillusioned of course, and I would meet you. I only make the suggestion to save the wear and tear on owls simply due to your having imbibed too much.

I shudder to think of someone not me getting your request and sending this owl back on its way after three hours! (If you paid for round-trip owl service, get your money back and do not leave the postal service office until you have gotten it. No one in their right mind would suggest three hours was sufficient after such a trip.)

I believe I deserve an explanation,

Severus T. Snape

He boxed up the letter and potions, making his way to the owlery to find a fresh owl. The owl she'd sent was still sleeping in his lab. If he came back to it ruined she would do more than explain things to him the next time he saw her. Assuming he ever heard from her again.

Pretty to think about such a threat, however, unless he put a tracker on Beatrice he had no idea where the witch was to make a meeting occur. If she knew he was irritated, she likely wouldn't come to him! And really, why would she?

He found a suitable owl and sent the items on their way, sighing softly. He glanced at the sky, it was approaching sunrise. Time to get on with his day. He scoffed with a shake of his head.

"Hangover potion indeed," he muttered.

Hermione was in Rupert Giles' flat when the owl arrived. The look on his face at the owl perched outside his window was pretty priceless. He and Buffy were the only two of her group of friends who knew exactly what Hermione was. The rest just thought she was someone from the Watchers Council sent to help once in a while. It helped that she was from Britain she supposed.

They'd apparently had a bad experience with a couple of watchers not Giles because she and Giles had to assure them the first time they'd met Hermione that she was not a watcher. And was not evil or out to take Giles' job. Though Giles had assured her that he thought she would make for an excellent watcher if she ever did desire to get back into the thick of things again. While there was only one slayer at a time, there were potentials like Kendra and Faith who knew in advance of their status and were trained so if they did get called they were able to step right into the role. Those girls needed good watchers, too, he'd mentioned.

She chuckled as she read Professor Snape's short and to the point reply. She set the box containing the hangover potion vials on Giles' desk. He was probably right. He deserved some explanation rather than her just requesting this potion. When she'd seen the quality of the potions at the local store. Well, she hadn't even thought of anything beyond the fact he'd be bound to have some in his stores.

"These will help Buffy and anyone else who might have been affected by the beer. It's a potion so you'll need to…"

"Mix it with water or something so they don't know they're drinking a potion."

"Right," she said with a slight smile. It was easy to forget this man had some magical knowledge. She wasn't used to that with muggles. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound like I'm talking down to you."

"It's fine. I realize you must not encounter people in the non-magical world that know all that frequently."

"You are correct."

"A good friend of mine could have gone to magical school. I believe that was the plan at any rate. He got his letter I believe you call it and everything."

"He did?"

"Yes, that would have been about 1966 or so I suppose. He didn't want to go. He, unfortunately, enjoyed the dark side of magic."

"It can be very enticing."

She didn't know that firsthand, but she could imagine it was tempting. How else would someone as intelligent as Severus Snape get sucked into it? She knew he didn't have a great childhood but he was no Tom Riddle when it came to abandonment and abuse.

"Quite. The Halloween many in the town turned into their costumes Buffy and I told you about? The poisoned band candy?"

"That was him? Your friend?"

"It was. Ethan Rayne is his name."

"Well, I'll have to research him when I get back," she said, excited to have something new to research that was more fun than just work related stuff and memory magic. Sometimes she needed a break to look into something for pleasure, too. 1966 or so would make him about Lucius Malfoy's age. Now that would be interesting, to meet someone who had dirt on a young Lucius Malfoy. Not that anyone needed help keeping Lucius in Azkaban for years from what she'd read in the Prophet.

"I appreciate your coming on such short notice, Hermione. I realize you're not at my beck and call…"

"I'm happy to help, Giles. I like Buffy if you haven't noticed, I'm her friend and I'm on your side."

"I'm starting to come around to that fact."

"Good," she said, smiling widely. She liked knowing she'd earned this man's trust. She got the impression he didn't give it easily. She got the impression he thought he was being punished by being sent here over being promoted to the watcher of The Slayer.

"Did you want to stay another night? You're welcome to, of course. Talking about home is no hardship."

"It is nice to talk to someone who wants to hear what I have to tell them for a change, but no, thank you. I really do need to get back. I was in the middle of researching some magical readings that were coming in from Morocco."

"Morocco?"

"Can you believe it? I never know where they're going to send me next. I sometimes wonder what they did before they hired me! Airfare had to cost a fortune to get someone to all of these places. I'll probably be heading there in the next day or two once I have a better idea of what I'm looking at or for."

"Well, good luck to you, Hermione, and again, thank you." He picked up the box containing the hangover potion after they'd shaken hands. "And thank your friend, too."

"He's not…" she started to say and then stopped. There was no use explaining. Giles didn't really care who Severus Snape was to Hermione. He was just glad that she'd gotten something that would help his Slayer and the others affected recover quickly. "I will tell him."

And, in truth, she kind of liked thinking that Severus Snape might be her friend.

She activated the portkey the Council had given her and arrived back in her flat. When she'd left Sunnydale it had been close to four in the morning. It was now noon.

She sat at her desk and quickly penned a letter to Severus Snape. He was right, her request for the potions had been a little abrupt and to the point. Hangover potions was probably not something he'd expect her to ask for either. He probably thought that they were for her!

Professor,

If you do not have rounds tonight, I could meet you at the gates at eight o'clock and accompany you back to your quarters to explain the need for the potion I requested. If your quarters are unacceptable to you, we could meet at the Hog's Head. My thought was privacy with little chance of anyone overhearing us. I will apparate to the gates at eight o'clock tonight unless I hear otherwise.

Regards,

Hermione J. Granger

She sent the letter with Beatrice and decided to lay down for a bit before she got ready for her evening.

Showered and dressed appropriately for a cold drafty castle she double checked to ensure no owl had come, or that Beatrice hadn't returned with a letter Hermione missed. It would be well after sunset when she arrived so she wasn't overly concerned with being seen, but even he recommended disillusioning herself so he seemed to understand she didn't want to be seen.

She pictured the grounds just a bit away from Hogwarts' gates where she knew there was a bit of tree cover. She took a deep breath nervously and then apparated to a place she hadn't been since the final battle over a year and a half ago.

She disillusioned herself immediately upon arriving and made her way to the gate. She wasn't sure what her reaction to seeing him was going to be. The last time she'd seen him he'd been lying rather helpless in a hospital bed. She hadn't liked seeing him that way.

He was her professor, larger than life from the moment he'd first introduced them to potions. She was one of the only people who seemed to understand exactly what it was he'd done for literally everyone. So, she'd sat with him, read to him, fed him, and even sometimes gave him a sponge bath when the nurses insisted cleansing charms only went so far but he was having none of anyone getting near him.

He'd let her near him.

Why?

He stood on this side of the gates, obviously having heard her arrival and now the sound of her trainers on the ground.

He held the gates open for her, wordlessly allowing her to pass onto Hogwarts' grounds. She wasn't sure she'd ever get over the images of all the death that had happened on these grounds. A piece of her soul had fractured, she was certain, at the sight of so much damage to the castle as a result of the battle that had been fought here. She gave a soft shudder in response and he merely nodded as if he understood.

Maybe he did.

They walked silently into the castle and down to the dungeons. Once they got near her old potions classroom she was out of familiar territory. She'd never had any reason to know where his private quarters were. He stopped in front of a painting of a garden and fairies and touched the frame, which resulted in it moving to reveal a door. She stared for a moment. Was this some sort of trap? He scowled at her and she nipped at her lower lip as she regarded the painting closer, looking for some trick of the light or her eyes that this was the painting that guarded his quarters.

"Fairies? A garden?"

He gave a soft scoff but she heard it as he allowed her to pass through before closing the door. The lights came on as they entered his sitting room. He snapped his fingers, pointing at a whiteboard.

WHO WOULD THINK TO LOOK FOR THE DOOR TO MY QUARTERS BEHIND THAT?

"Of course, quite right," she said with an amused chuckle.

Now that he mentioned it, she couldn't recall ever seeing the painting before now so she imagined he had some sort of spell on it so people didn't even notice it to begin with. She knew he was a private man, but there had to be more to it. Safety, fearing for his life probably were in there, too.

What a lonely way to live.

She removed her hat and gloves, sliding them into the pockets of her coat before removing it as well. Coming back from California and needing them was a rude awakening!

"I'm glad you received my owl and that this evening was convenient for you."

MY CURIOSITY WAS PIQUED, he wrote on the whiteboard.

She swallowed.

Could he not speak? Her eyes met his and he smirked slightly, as if he knew what she was thinking. He might have, but not why. His voice, as cruel as it could be, was also positively sinful. At St. Mungo's his neck had been wrapped so thoroughly she hadn't expected him to be able to speak.

Now, though, eighteen months later. She hadn't realized.

Severus ensured the fire was sufficient for a November evening. He whispered for Wizzy, his personal elf, and asked for a tea service to be brought.

He regarded the witch as she took in his quarters while he did this. He'd received her letter earlier in the day and just about destroyed it at the gall of her inviting herself to his quarters. The Hog's Head would certainly be more appropriate of a meeting place. And, yet, he couldn't speak very loudly and she obviously did not want to be a part of the magical world at this time. Aside from correspondence with him evidently.

Odd as that was.

He hadn't truly expected her to show up here explaining her need for the hangover ption to him. Five vials seemed excessive, which was the reason he'd done it without question, truthfully. One he would have assumed was for her. Five, though? Unless she'd changed ways and had a plethora of friends. He suspected there'd been a reason for the request.

So the more he'd thought about it after setting it down and recovering from the potential inappropriateness of her request. The more it made sense for her to come here.

His quarters offered them privacy, he had no paintings in his rooms that would report his activities to Minerva or anyone else nosey enough to ask.

That had surprisingly been at Albus' insistence not his.

Albus had not wanted to know when he got summoned or if he had floo conversations with death eaters that might reveal things that others should not know. He also wanted any conversations the two of them had to be private. Minerva either didn't know or hadn't changed anything.

He hoped it was the latter, that she thought Severus had paid enough of a price to be free of spying portraits for many years to come. He had no doubt that one day he would have to return to the position of Headmaster once Minerva was ready to move on, either taking retirement or just deciding to move on from Hogwarts.

He gestured to the tea service when Wizzy returned with it and she nodded, walking towards it to prepare a cup to her liking and then a second one to his. He raised his brow at this.

"I made it for you at St. Mungo's a few times if you recall. Plus, I'd observed you preparing your tea more than once in the Great Hall over the years."

He nodded, taking the cup from her which was made exactly the way he preferred it. She sat then, taking a sip of her tea, which was followed by a heavy sigh.

"There's no way I can sum up the past eighteen months that I've been working. So I won't even try. The hangover potions were for the Slayer and a few other college students who had their beer drugged by someone. It turned them into Neanderthal-like people. Buffy and four of the others had been drinking the beer for like two days so were pretty heavily affected versus others who just drank one night. I owled you after the first night. We thought she'd stop, but she didn't. Muggle pub, I couldn't use magic to stop her. She's the Slayer, she could kick my ass even in that state so trying to bully or force her to leave wasn't going to work. I just wanted the potion to help her recover faster. I made sure her watcher, Giles, knew to mix the potions for the other four with water or something."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome. I'm not going to break the Statute of Secrecy, but she's a hero, Professor. She got her heart broken, put herself back out there only to get used, which is not that unusual for freshman university girls from what I have come to find out nor was she the first notch on this particular users bedpost. I didn't want her to suffer anymore than she already has. She doesn't deserve to be in pain. Is drinking going to solve her problems? No, but everyone has the right to unwind and that was all she was trying to do. She wasn't out to get rip-roaring drunk and dance on tables topless. I also know that she doesn't do that often, drink I mean. Or sleep around for that matter. Before that one time there'd only been one other time. Both sadly ended rather disastrously. She was just miserable and wanted something to make her feel better. The beer led to the four guys talking to her, led to her feeling better before the drug took effect."

"You like her," he whispered.

"I do," she said simply. "How can you tell?"

YOU HAVE THAT PROTECTIVE LOOK ON YOUR FACE THAT I HAVE SEEN NUMEROUS TIMES OVER THE YEARS AIMED AT MESSRS. POTTER AND WEASLEY. I LIKEN IT TO MOTHER BEARS WHEN SOMEONE OR SOMETHING IS STUPID ENOUGH TO COME BETWEEN HER AND HER CUBS. I IMAGINE THERE ARE MANY WHO DON'T NOTICE IT, BUT THOSE OF US WHO OBSERVE DO, he wrote on the whiteboard.

"Well, I'm not sure that I'm as fierce as a bear. I just know that since I've known her she's stopped bad things from happening, like world-ending bad things, several times already."

SO THEY ARE TRULY REAL?

"How are you doing that?" she asked, gesturing to the board.

He shrugged. Of course she would want to know. Interestingly in the past eighteen months no one else had asked him that question. They just seemed to take for granted that anyone could do this. Not so. He'd handwritten the request for the board. IT IS MAGICALLY CONNECTED TO MY MIND.

"But it doesn't write everything you think! You'd be sacked for sure if it did."

He chuckled and he noticed she blushed profusely as if just now realizing what exactly she'd said.

INDEED, the whiteboard wrote. I AM A WIZARD AFTER ALL. I TELL IT WHAT TO WRITE. I CAN EVEN TELL IT TO DO THIS.

"Ah," she said, seeming to grasp the concept at any rate. "And to answer your question. Yes, they are real."

HOW DID YOU GET INVOLVED?

"They came to me shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. I was … not too happy. I wasn't going to be allowed to sit my NEWTs, they were talking of making me do a seventh year. I didn't need to take a seventh year. I was ready to sit my NEWTs. I spent almost ten months hiding and hunting, got captured and tortured for their war and they thought they could tell me what I was and was not ready for and that I'd sit back and take it. Instead of offering to help me get my parents back I was threatened with time in Azkaban if I told anyone what I'd done to them."

WHICH WAS? He knew they were gone, that she had sent them away. She had not told him what exactly she'd done.

"Altered their memories. Removed all memories of me, of them having had a child, gave them the mental push to move to Australia."

I SEE, he wrote, staring at her.

She had truly done that and they were … functional? To say he was impressed was an understatement. She wouldn't have been eighteen yet at that point. Depending on who she'd asked for help he could see why they'd threaten her, they wouldn't want young wizards or witches thinking they could do that and get rid of their families.

"So, the Watchers Council approached me one night at a diner I went to growing up when I was lonesome for my parents and quite irritated with the magical world. I'd saved my parents' lives. No one else seemed to give them a thought despite muggles being attacked almost nightly. Never mind I spent over nine months literally starving in an attempt to get those bloody horcruxes and ensure Harry survived. I was tortured for their war. All the while I was basically helping to have Harry offered up for slaughter. I need something, though, and I get threatened with Azkaban! They, the Council, said they'd help me with my NEWTs and I'd be helping the world without having to get my hands dirty. They also said they'd give me access to all their texts on memory magic to see if I can help my parents."

DID YOU SIT YOUR NEWTS? He didn't think she had, he was certain Minerva would have told him. Then perhaps Minerva didn't know.

"I did, but they have held the results until I'm ready to return to the magical world. I knew the Ministry getting them would lead to them wondering where I was and I don't want that yet."

AND? There was more. He could tell.

She shrugged, nibbling at her lower lip. She was clearly thinking of either how much to say or what to say. Interesting. What could possibly be on the witch's mind?

"I'm not so sure they have the Slayer's best interest in mind the majority of the time. It's been almost a year and a half. At first I absolutely thought that they did. I helped research a whole bunch of things. There's an eighteenth birthday test where their watcher drugs them, basically removing their slayer abilities and they are then put in a position to fight an enhanced vampire."

OH he wrote accompanied by a slight frown. He could have said the word, but the idea that an entity would do that surprised him. Why after all he'd been through he wasn't sure. That seemed as if they were setting the girls up to fail once they turned eighteen. He could see why that would get Hermione's hackles up.

Especially if she liked this slayer.

She told him then an incredulous story about a vampire with a soul; how he'd been cursed with it, how he'd lost it again after they'd made love only to have it returned again moments before Buffy, the Slayer, had to send him to a hell dimension. She hadn't known that was the result, though. She'd spent months believing that she had killed the man she loved.

The witch who restored his soul was untrained and barely seventeen. That gave Severus pause. He didn't know the spell, but clearly it wasn't common to do or people would resoul vampires all of the time.

She told him how he'd been returned and how they worked to defeat Mayor Wilkins. Finally, he could understand now why she'd made the comment she had about snakes in a previous letter. And then he'd left. He'd left not just Buffy but Sunnydale entirely

She told him about the few months between Angel's departure and now.

He could tell that she needed to unload. He was surprised at how easy it was to listen to her talk. When she was talking about something she was truly passionate and knowledgeable about, she was rather beautiful and not difficult to pay attention to in the least.

He understood her doubts, too.

I CANNOT ADVISE YOU, MISS GRANGER.

"I know. I didn't really come here for that. I guess I just needed to talk about it. Your asking for an explanation made me realize it was time. I just don't know if they're truly the good guys. I need to decide for myself. Even if you had just told me they were evil and I need to leave I'd need to think about that. I help people. It's not just Buffy, there are people all over the world that I go to help or research things for. So while I'm wondering of their true … purpose, I'm not sure I can just walk away. I am helping."

DO YOU THINK ANYTHING YOU ARE RESEARCHING IS DOING ANYTHING BUT HELPING BUFFY OR THE WORLD?

"No," she said with a slight shake of her head. She'd clearly thought before answering the question. He was very glad to see that. "Not that I'm aware of."

THEN, MISS GRANGER, YOU NEED TO DECIDE IF BEING EMPLOYED BY A PERHAPS MORALLY GREY COMPANY WHEN IT MEANS YOUR EFFORTS GO TOWARD KEEPING A NINETEEN YEAR OLD WOMAN ALIVE AND THE WORLD A SAFER PLACE IS WORTH IT.

She stared at the words on the whiteboard for a while.

"It's why I returned the potion to you. When I found out they'd had Slayer blood and did nothing I didn't want them to have something like that. I would imagine it would be a useful potion to have if you were torturing a witness. Make them think their friend or fellow comrade is still alive so they'll answer questions."

YOU ARE THINKING LIKE ONE WHO HAS EXPERIENCED WAR. I AM ONLY SORRY IT WAS ON MY WATCH THAT YOU LEARNED THOSE LESSONS, came his written reply.

She nodded and stood then, walking to him and clutched his hand with hers.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sir."

OH, BUT I DO, MISS GRANGER. I'VE NEVER BEEN A KIND OR GOOD MAN BUT MY TREATMENT OF YOU…

"I've chalked it up to you being a spy. You couldn't have shown any leniency or favoritism toward the muggleborn Gryffindor who was giving your godson a good competition toward being top of our class. I know my first year or two I tried way too hard, and I'm sure my submitting extra inches with every assignment grew tiresome. The teeth thing," she shrugged. "It hurt. I won't lie and deny that it did, but I like to think if circumstances had been different you wouldn't have said it. I know you've been on the receiving end of insults and know what it feels like. You saved our lives a few times. You healed me. You didn't expel me when I set your robes on fire or stole ingredients from your stores. I like to think that makes up for a mean-spirited comment when you yourself were likely stressed, Sir."

He stared at her a moment, her hand resting over his lightly but it was warm against his skin. He hadn't been touched by a human in this fashion in … well he couldn't remember when. The healers at St. Mungo's or Poppy did not count either.

"Severus, please, you are no longer my student, and we are talking more as contemporaries," he whispered and she gave a questioning look to him speaking. "I have very limited vocal usage. I'm hoping that will change with time."

"Me, too," she said and blushed.

And he couldn't help but wonder what that was about. He went over what they'd said and could find nothing worthy of getting embarrassed about.

Unless.

Hmm.

Interesting.

Could it be?

Impossible.

"And Hermione, please."

It was after midnight when he noticed the time, only because the fire in his fireplace was dwindling. He couldn't recall the last time he spent more than a few minutes let alone hours talking to someone.

Okay, she'd done most of the talking, but really she seemed to know the newsworthy pieces of information about magical Britain. He, on the other hand, wasn't sure he'd get tired of listening to her talk about the various demons, spells, and locations she had researched. Some he'd read about in books but he'd never had occasion to get first hand accounts regarding them. Some he'd never heard of in his life. She'd been around the world for this job and it sounded like other than extracurricular things she didn't have many expenses.

Whoever had selected her for this position had chosen well. A more passionate researcher he wasn't sure existed except perhaps himself.

Of course her desire (Severus was still unsure if it was a weakness or not) of wanting to protect all nature's creatures came out when she admitted to him that Buffy had told her about a werewolf hunter who was a chauvinistic pig. He evidently didn't stop to realize, or care if he did realize, that werewolves were humans all but three days a month.

She'd admitted to meeting up with him on a recent trip to Sri Lanka when she knew he'd be there trading the pelts he'd harvested that full moon and hexing his bollocks to the size of pistachios. The hex would dissipate and return his bits to normal size in about a month she'd said. It would happen again anytime he tried to harvest a pelt. Severus clenched his legs in response to the story.

He couldn't help it.

She was friends with someone who loved a vampire and went to school and was friends with a werewolf. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, and yet Remus when taking his wolfsbane potion had been productive.

He used his wand to tend to the fire.

"I guess it's good that you're good at wordless casting," she said.

"Indeed."

"I should let you go, it's late."

I WILL WALK YOU OUT, HERMIONE.

"Oh that's not necessary. Really. I'm not going to wander around where I don't belong or anything."

SOMEONE COULD SEE THE GATES OPENING ON THEIR OWN.

"Oh yes," she said, biting her lower lip as she seemed to think on that. "Then I accept. Thank you, Severus."

She put her outer gear back on while he did the same.

"So you don't think it's wrong to stay with this job even though I'm not sure I agree with their policies?"

I THINK ONLY YOU CAN ANSWER THAT, BUT YOU ALSO HAVE TO EAT AND KEEP A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD WHILE YOU'RE FIGURING OUT WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. IF THEY WERE PLOTTING THE END OF THE WORLD, I'D SAY YOU WERE WRONG. IT SOUNDS LIKE THEY DO THINGS YOU DON'T AGREE WITH, BUT THAT COULD PROBABLY BE SAID FOR EVERY EMPLOYER IN THE WORLD. LOOK AT ALBUS.

They left his rooms then and walked in silence out of the castle and to the gates, which he opened and stepped outside with a disillusioned Hermione so anyone out wouldn't wonder why he opened them.

Suddenly he felt hands at his forearms, clutching tightly and then she was pressed against him for a brief moment while she kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Severus. I hadn't realized how much I needed to talk to someone who knows me, understands how I am. I appreciate you listening very much. Good night," she said.

"Good night, Hermione," he said, knowing that while she was no longer touching him she was still right next to him because he smelled her. Something floral yet earthy. He found it rather calming.

He felt when she left his side and waited for the pop of apparition before returning onto Hogwarts' grounds and to his quarters for the night.

What an oddly interesting evening. Whoever would have thought he'd spend five hours with Hermione Granger and wish it could have continued even longer?

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com