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CHAPTER 1
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April 2007

Severus was always restless at midnight.

He couldn’t remember the last time an evening of any kind left him ready for sleep earlier than the quiet hours of the morning, and midnight was the peak of this mania. Since the war ended, his life changed in many ways, but the insomnia always remained. The only place that calmed his mind was looking out at the glassy surface of the Black Lake. Though Severus had not been Headmaster of Hogwarts in a decade, the magical privileges of the castle never left him. After stepping down, he had returned to his position in Potions, but he was still able to manipulate hallways and doors, creating pathways for himself alone. The castle allowed him to reach his desired location on these mysterious grounds. Abandoning his wingback chair in the residence where he lived during the months he taught at Hogwarts, he stood facing the door that usually led to his bedroom and willed his mind to clear.

Like Apparition, or even Occlumency, the power of the Headmaster or Headmistress to manipulate Hogwarts required a strong sense of mental integrity. The witch or wizard in question must be able to differentiate the magical threads coursing through the ether and tether themselves from one location to the next. The added magical permissions allowed that theoretical tether to then transform into something more, something tangible.

When Severus was done with the ritual, he exhaled and reached for the doorknob. The door, which should have led to a spartanly decorated bedroom containing not much more than a four-poster bed and dresser with the necessities of human clutter, instead led to a stone hallway, long and chilled, but not entirely unpleasant. The dark passage beckoned to Severus, and he walked in without fear; he was used to these anomalies. Down deeper into the passage, the air chilled further, and Severus found himself exiting the castle onto the Hogwarts grounds. The air of spring was pleasant, and the sound of frogs became more apparent as Severus walked through the grounds to the lake.

The nocturnal world always quieted Severus’s wandering mind. It might have been because no judgment could be found from the flora or fauna regarding his late-night visits. Once Severus settled himself on the ground near the lake– Oh, how his longtime colleagues and the students would find this image of Severus in the long grass disconcerting and uncharacteristic in comparison to the staunch professor they thought they knew– he was able to unpack his thoughts and decompress.

Severus spent most of these nights processing the war, or to a lesser extent, the trivial annoyances of his current life. Sometimes he brought his pencils and small sketchbook with him to capture his view, using a floating candle for light that he’d pilfered from the Great Hall as a student decades ago. He had forgotten the glasses he had taken to wearing, however, so sketching tonight was out of the question. Most nights, though, he simply enjoyed the stillness and the quiet. After half an hour or so of peace, a rustling in the foliage about 10 meters away sent his senses into overdrive. A woman emerged from the shadows. He noticed her slight build and closed-off body language in silhouette, but she was definitely not the shape of a student out of bed for a late-night bit of adventure. He was on his feet in moments, wand held defensively in front of him.

“Who’s there? Reveal yourself immediately,” Severus said at a volume where he was sure the woman could hear but not loud enough to cause alarm if it was Minerva or Pomona. Though Severus doubted either the current Headmistress or head of the Herbology Department would be awake and about at this time. And as it looked, this woman did not fit the physical build of either of his colleagues. This witch stood resolute with a small frame and well-proportioned physique. Her wand slightly raised and glowing, and then relaxed upon hearing his voice.
“Oh, Professor Snape, you startled me. I apologize. It's Hermione Granger– that is Professor Granger now– Apologies for startling you, all of this is very new, and I needed a walk to clear my head,” she prattled

Hermione Granger? Why was the golden girl of Gryffindor skulking around Hogwarts grounds? Severus lowered his wand and tried to look imposing and disinterested.

“As deeply as I care to know the inner workings of your psyche, I don’t quite care about your comings and goings. It is my rotation to patrol the grounds, and I suggest you make your way back to the castle before you are lost or hurt. It has been quite a while since you’ve been in residence, but our rules for wandering for guests and students alike have not changed,” Severus uttered the easy lie, hoping to extricate himself from this situation quickly. He hoped the Granger girl would be on her way shortly, and he could continue his quiet contemplation. Instead, as he spoke and approached closer, he saw the firm set of her jaw and realized she did not intend to leave.

“I believe you misunderstand, Sir, I am neither a guest here nor am I certainly not a student and have not been in some time, as you recall. I am the newest member of Hogwarts faculty, and Headmistress McGonagall assured me that Hogwarts faculty are more than welcome to traverse the grounds. If I disturbed your patrol, I offer you my apology, but I assure you, Professor Snape, I am more than allowed to be here.” Hermione sniffed and turned her attention back to the lake, arms folded defiantly, and did not give him a second glance.

Curious. Severus did not know what to make of this information, nor the interaction as a whole, and decided that extricating himself from the situation was in his best interest. Miss Granger did not look up or say anything further when he swiftly departed, and the only evidence Severus could see when he reached the passage door was a dim glow of wandlight, no bigger than that of a firefly at this distance, still by the shores of the depthless lake.

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When Hermione Granger woke the next morning, the air coming through the open window of her new apartments at Hogwarts still held the soft wind of early spring and the dampness of dew. Luna and Ginny had helped Hermione decorate most of the weekend, and the three relished in acting like they had as girls again. They unpacked boxes, hung art, and shelved books amid intermittent snack breaks and two nights spent sleeping on the floor of Hermione’s new cozy sitting room. All three insisted on an upgrade to their sleeping bags, which Hermione obliged, of course. As a show of her new position as Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, she upgraded her sofa to a cozy, much larger sleeping pad fit for three women in their late twenties.

This regression to girlhood was necessary for Hermione, she mused later when her friends had departed. The year had been tough for her, to say the least. She and Ron had split up in January after almost a decade together. Though if Hermione admitted it to herself, they had given up on the relationship much earlier. The split was mostly amicable, but Hermione moved out of their shared London flat almost immediately, opting to give Ron space. She crashed on Luna’s couch for some time and made countless lists of what to do with her life now that she only had to account for herself and her familiar, the ever-reliable Crookshanks.

The answers to most of her questions emerged quickly after a lunch with Minerva McGonagall, who asked Hermione to leave her position with the Ministry of Magic and take over as the Professor of Transfiguration and Head of House for Gryffindor so that Minerva could focus on her duties as Headmistress. The older woman confided that handling all three roles was taking their toll, and after the war and her years wearing too many hats, she needed assistance. Hermione’s years of experience teaching advanced transfiguration to Aurors in the Department of Magical Curse Breaking, as well as her Mastery and apprenticeship obtained shortly after the war, had made Hermione the obvious choice. Minerva needed a successor, and Hermione needed a change. Who was she to say no? Once everything was finalized, Hermione agreed to move to Hogwarts in April to assist with NEWT-level tutoring and shadow Minerva for the remainder of the school year and summer. This fall, she was to take over in earnest, but until then, she will have to fill the quiet in preparation.

The quiet, however, had other plans last night, and once Luna and Ginny left to return to their lives– Luna to her finally clean apartment, and Ginny to not one but two mop-haired toddlers and a very tired husband, Harry– Hermione stared at the ceiling of her empty apartment feeling like she had made a thousand mistakes and moved too fast with this entire endeavor. Her mind swirled with unhelpful thoughts; how she had failed her family, her friends, and the Weasleys, especially Ron, by closing herself off and running away. She couldn’t help it! She had wanted more from this life than what had been in front of her. She had settled so comfortably after the war, only branching out in her academic pursuits, but remaining entirely predictable in her personal life.

Suddenly, last year over Christmas, something had snapped, and Hermione couldn’t take it any longer. She sat Ron down immediately and confessed all her feelings of listlessness, and he calmly obliged. Now, in her new surroundings, she was feeling similarly stifled, only by fear of the unknown instead of fear of the predictable. That is what led her outside to the lake and the encounter with the ever-enigmatic Professor Severus Snape.

Some things never change. Snape was his typical standoffish self, though she certainly knew he had lied about patrolling the grounds. His business was his alone, and she was quite honestly, too burnt out to care about her former teacher’s comings and goings. She brushed off his brusque remarks and rude departure almost immediately, not giving it a second thought. She would no longer stand to not take up space. He may have been teaching at Hogwarts longer, but this was her home as well now, and she would treat it as such. Hermione remained by the lake for an hour or so more without any disturbance until the light jumper she threw on before leaving no longer shielded her from the spring cold. Returning the way she came, she saw no one and expected that Professor Snape had returned to, well, wherever he went after he finished whatever scene he’d made. Hermione had never really considered his personal quarters, and did not care to now, so she put him out of her mind and returned to try and get some hours of sleep.

Now sufficiently rested as she could expect, Hermione took care of her morning tasks and made her way to the staff room, omitting breakfast as she had opted for more sleep instead. It was Easter Holiday break for the students of Hogwarts, and the students would return the next day, but Hogwarts staff were expected at an all-day meeting to discuss an initiative Headmistress McGonagall intended to launch in the fall regarding inter-house relations between students.

After the war, relations between muggleborn, half-blood, and pureblood families was strained to say the least, and being a small community already, the Ministry of Magic, now under the supervision of Kingsley Shacklebolt, spent a great deal of effort forming task forces to discuss how best to reform the relatively small community of wizarding Britain. The result was a series of focus groups, retreats, and events across the wizarding United Kingdom focused on empathy and connection. These events became even more popular when the likes of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy began their work with the task force. Hermione had not herself attended the various offerings, but was key as a contractor doing background research for how to reshape the community and heal the trauma of Voldemort’s reign. She relied heavily on Muggle researchers who established Ubuntu in Rwanda after the horrific genocide that had occurred not long before the Second Wizarding War ended. The research and practice were deemed invaluable, and Hermione suspected her work on that project was one of the reasons Minerva had asked her to join the Hogwarts faculty and staff as well.

Headmistress McGonagall hoped to establish a mandatory set of co-curricular activities across all seven years at Hogwarts focused on community and connection. Hermione thought this was a wonderful idea and was eager to begin on this project, which had its first brainstorming session today.

Hermione entered the staffroom, which had a section with a small kitchenette, where she poured herself a scalding black coffee and sat at the chair closest to her. Professors Flitwick and Sprout were already at the table and greeted her with amiable surprise when she finally sat, inconveniently at the same time, Severus Snape settled in the chair directly opposite her. Both looked up at each other, Hermione in surprise, and Professor Snape in mostly indifference
Hermione was sure either annoyance or minor surprise crossed his face momentarily as well. Neither had a chance to move seats before Minerva swept into the room, beginning the meeting immediately.

“Alright, heads of house, I thank you deeply for agreeing to spend the morning on this ambitious project–”

“We didn’t have a choice, Minerva dear, your instructions were quite insistent.” Professor Sprout interjected.

“Yes, yes, well–” Minerva continued, “You’ll notice Miss Hermione Granger has joined us at the table today. Hermione will be taking my place as both Transfiguration Professor and head of Gryffindor House beginning this September, and so I hope you all will be welcoming to our newest faculty member!”

Flitwick and Sprout both joyfully offered their congratulations, while Snape merely raised an eyebrow while crossing his arms. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Minerva had looked directly at Snape when she had mentioned being welcoming.

Hermione took a wordless cue from Minerva to say a few words of greeting, “Thank you for the warm words of introduction, Minerva and I know I have some quite large shoes to fill. I hope to start this position with humility. I will definitely be asking many questions about your best practices as I learn in this role!”

“No one doubts that you will be asking many questions, Miss Granger,” Snape drawled quietly, bringing Hermione’s welcome to a halt as she stared back in minor disbelief at his cutting words so early into her time here. She had expected at least to be ignored, but she supposed their encounter the night before had something to do with his pointed interest. Was this some sort of character test? She was not up for games anymore, and she certainly was not going to tolerate this indignant behavior.

“Professor Granger, if you would, Professor Snape,” Hermione retorted resolutely, looking him straight in the eye from across the table. Hermione would not look away, and locked eyes with his fathomless depths

Minerva interrupted their staring contest enthusiastically. “This is exactly the behavior we mean to work to disengage among the students, and though Hermione and Severus did not intend to, they have created a worthy test case for exploration. We cannot show the students proper camaraderie to the students unless we have it amongst ourselves first. Severus and Hermione, Filius and Pomona, you will each be partnered together. For the remainder of the spring and throughout the summer, you will spend time together weekly getting to know each other. I don’t care the manner in which you decide to spend your time, but it must be together. If you do not have any ideas, they will be provided to you.”

Hermione stood from her seat, a bit frantic to turn the tide of this absurd thought pattern.“Headmistress McGonagall, with all due respect, that was not my intention, and I don’t think Professor Snape–”

“Minerva, this is beyond the pale. I have research to attend to this summer, I do not think it would be wise to divert time and attention to–” Snape also stood to add, speaking pointedly over Hermione as if she did not exist

“Enough! Both of you. This is a valuable use of your time. DO your research together if you must, but find a way to co-exist, but this decision is final.”

Minerva sternly put the topic to rest, and both Snape and Hermione sat down awkwardly, avoiding the curious looks of their colleagues. The rest of the meeting passed without incident except that Hermione noticed Snape would not meet anyone in the eye and opted to bore a hole into the table in front of him. At the first sign of dismissal, he swept dramatically out of the room without a second glance, and Minerva cracked a smile. Hermione looked up at her mentor helplessly.

“Do you really think this is wise, Headmistress? I don’t think Professor Snape is particularly fond of me, and if we are to work together–”

“Exactly, Professor Granger, if you are to work together, then Severus must get used to you as a colleague and not a student. He also must accept you as a Gryffindor, a muggleborn, and the rightly monikered ‘brightest witch of her age,’” Minerva sighed as Filius and Pomona exited the staffroom, dropping some of her authoritative exterior. “He must see you as more than your shared past, Hermione, and though I know this will be uncomfortable, it is for the best, for both you and for Severus, whether he is aware or not. Severus Snape is a good man, and since the war, though fully exonerated, he has made no attempt to enter back into any sort of society. It is time we changed that.”

“While that is a noble task, and I see the merits for the students, I do not think I am the right person for it, Minerva.”

Minerva approached Hermione and put her hands encouragingly on both of Hermione’s shoulders. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Hermione sighed.

“Then please, at least try. If we can mend the two of you, we can show the students a united front between Slytherin and Gryffindor heads of house, and what a bastion we will create if we succeed.” Minerva’s smile was contagious, and Hermione could feel herself melting in agreement.

“Alright. I am hesitant, but I will try.” Minerva beamed back at the younger witch and withdrew from the room. “That’s my girl,” she praised, and walked out, leaving Hermione to stew about her next move in silence.

Chapter Text

Severus paced his private office furiously, feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. He ripped off the long buttoned frock coat he habitually wore, almost sacrificing several buttons to his rage, and flung it on the wooden desk chair. The chair and worn cherrywood desk had been his constant companions since he began teaching. It seemed like he had been in this position for an eternity with no end in sight, and the thought made him spiral. The room was too warm, and the previous conversation too stifling. He rolled up his sleeves for good measure, exposing an intricate weave of tattoos up both arms, magically swirling and roiling like a petulant Atlantic tide.

The tattoos travelled from his wrists, up his forearms, and across his entire chest and back. To an outside observer, the craftsmanship alone would have surely taken days. The only stagnant area of skin remained his greatest regret: the Dark Mark, permanently marring his forearm. He looked down at the ugly scar in disdain. Not that he could see the tattoos very well anyway. His damned eyesight had been going for the past several years, and he angrily slammed his hand on his desk, disturbing the reading spectacles he was now forced to wear.

This would not do. He had been researching his most pivotal project for over 3 years now, and his progress was undeniable. He could not jeopardize it all now, after coming this far. He had work to concentrate on, and time to do so, for the first time in his life. He would not give up this peace of mind for Hermione Granger, straight off one crusade to save humanity and onto another. He would not let this witch waste his time. As his magic flared in frustration, the castle took notice, and a glass of firewhiskey, neat, appeared on the edge of the desk. Severus paused and smirked slightly, pulled out of his bleak mood momentarily to acknowledge the kindness.

“Thank you, old girl,” Severus said and lifted the glass to his lips. Perfection. Slightly calmed, Severus sat and scrubbed his hand over his face, considering how to extricate himself from this annoyance. The room warmed slightly, a sure sign from the castle that someone was approaching. Severus sensed a tingling from the wards of the potions classroom as someone walked through the room to the door of his private office. A firm knock on the door broke the silence, and Severus walked to the door and opened it, revealing Hermione Granger. Severus glared in annoyance.

“To what do I owe this disturbance, Professor Granger?” He stood angled into his office with the door barely open, hoping Granger would take no invitation of any sort of conversation from this interaction.

“Professor Snape, I am as aware as you that this is not an ideal situation,”

“You always had a knack for observance.”

“I wish you would just give me a moment, so that we can discuss the best plan of action. How would you like to set up our–er, time together?”

“I do not wish to.” Snape stared back at the insufferable woman blankly, and Hermione returned his gaze.

“I don’t think I understand, Sir. With all due respect, the Headmistress said–”

“I am well aware of what the Headmistress said, Professor Granger, and I plan to countermand her request.”

Granger paused, and a brief look of hurt flashed across her face. Severus tried to ignore the small part of him that felt sorry for the girl. She wasn’t a girl anymore, though, was she? She had grown while she was away, which was apparent from the confident demeanor with which she now comported herself. Her hands were on her hips, and her stance was as immovable as a dueling position. Snape shook himself out of the inadvertent profiling as Hermione coolly responded.

“It’s in neither of our best interests to refute her. I’ve already spoken to the Headmistress, and she will not be swayed. By all means, waste your energy doing what I have just done, or I can save you the trouble and let you know that Minerva is quite adamant.”

Severus projected his disdain through crossed arms, and the motion led Granger to focus with almost laser precision on the tattoos of Severus’s arms. Remembering that he had forgotten to don his outerwear before opening the office door, Severus snapped, “Very well, Thursday at 8:00 pm and no later. Bring work. I will not tolerate idle chatter.” He shut the door in her face and waited several moments to hear Granger depart before he exhaled and relaxed. As the rest of the day stretched before him, the trivialities of grading and his research took his attention elsewhere. He put thoughts of the future aside and spent the rest of his day as he preferred: in solitude.

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Across the castle, Hermione was at war with herself, indignant over the condescension she received from Snape but fascinated by his unexpected appearance. Who was this man underneath his buttoned-up exterior?

Hermione collapsed onto her sofa in mental exhaustion. It had taken the better part of half an hour to navigate not one but two trick staircases and find her way to the door of Professor Snape’s private office, and once she arrived, by the mandate of Minerva and not by choice! , she reminded herself, she was met only with derision. She had to admit that she still sought Professor Snape’s approval in some backwards way, and to be constantly brushed aside like a student was tiring. It wasn’t like she was looking for the man to praise her or compliment her; she just wanted to be acknowledged as a person, a colleague. He did not have to like her, just acknowledge she wasn’t a twelve-year-old know-it-all anymore.

Hermione also realized this must have been the first time in her life she had not seen Snape in his tightly buttoned coat. She was unprepared for the shifting tattoos on her former professor's forearms and how the art escaped from under his clean white Oxford shirt. She did not get a moment to glance, but she also believed there was similar ink lingering around the man’s collar and neckline, which were usually hidden under the coat as well.

So curious. Hermione thought to herself. Severus Snape seemed like the last person who would ever have an interest in tattoos, let alone so many. Then again, as a former Death Eater, Snape would have had to have taken the Dark Mark. Perhaps it wasn’t so far off the target for him, but Hermione was struck by what she had seen all the same. A thousand questions swirled in her mind, and she tried to tame them as she returned to task. She had plenty of work ahead of her; important work. She did not need Snape’s proclivity for unique body art distracting her from her new role at Hogwarts, and all the work to be done preparing for her NEWT-level students. They were the priority, she reminded herself, and she swiftly made her way to her office desk to prepare for the week ahead. Once the students returned, she would not have the time to think of Snape until she was scheduled to meet him on Thursday evening.

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The week progressed slowly, and Severus found himself lulled by the familiarity of the students and their predictability. Contrary to what many might assume, Severus liked the cadence of teaching and was often very satisfied with the students and their work when they had the wherewithal to pay attention and put in the effort. He preferred his first-year classes most and enjoyed watching the students with ambition discover the intricacies of potions. They watched with rapt attention as Severus demonstrated simple maneuvers and techniques, and their questions were often the most insightful and the least weighed down by preconceived notions.

On Tuesday afternoon, following a particularly attentive group of first-year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, Severus even found that he smiled to himself as they departed. This group was interesting, and at first pairing, he worried the difference in personality would be a sure sign of failures ahead, but he found that the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins actually balanced each other nicely. The Slytherin students encouraged the Hufflepuffs to be bold in their decision-making, while the Hufflepuffs discouraged the Slytherin propensity for unnecessary risk. In this way, Severus did believe Minerva had a valid point about encouraging more mixing between students of different houses, but he abhorred the methods that affected him. He put Granger out of his mind; she would not take up any more space than necessary, mental or otherwise.

After decades of teaching, there was very little new to observe, and perhaps that was why his mind continued to stray to the witch. Otherwise, Hogwarts was much the same as it was when he first began teaching, with the exception that since becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts after the death of– after he had murdered– Albus Dumbledore, Severus could feel every inch of the castle as if it were a part of his central nervous system. Dumbledore had never shared the deep power that coursed through one’s system when they became Headmaster of Hogwarts, but the first night of his tenure in the hallowed position left him sapped for energy akin to a Cruciatus Curse hangover. He remembered it bitterly: waking up on the floor of his quarters, shaking, covered in a cold sweat. After he clawed his way to the bathroom, though, he found several Muggle and magical remedies had appeared on his bathroom counter. His mind swimming, Severus immediately searched the entire quarters and spent almost an hour meticulously resetting his wards, only to feel a presence.

Subtle as a caress, there was a new awareness that coursed lightly through the rooms and halls. He realized with genuine shock that this sentience was the room. No, it went deeper. Severus remembered his shocked realization: though it was obvious Hogwarts was more than mere walls of stone, this place had a soul-like quality and an uncanny ability to communicate. There were no words exchanged, but similar to a brush of Legillimans, the castle seemed to project a soft and tentative welcome. With the remaining strength Severus could muster, Severus whirled around his bedroom like a madman, slammed into place his Occlumency protections, and hesitantly reached out in his mind to locate the interloper. What he felt was a magic that was strange, old, and unlike anything he had ever encountered. He was immediately fascinated. The magic swept back in curiosity and projected, indescribably, its identity. This was the castle itself, welcoming him as Headmaster, and for the first time since his mother was alive, something cared about his well-being enough to take care of him.

Severus rarely felt kinship, but from the moment he became Headmaster, he did not feel so alone in this place, which is why, after the war, after his gruelling exoneration, he had opted to return. During his stay at St. Mungo’s recovering from the last Battle of Hogwarts, Severus felt lonelier than he had ever felt in his shameful existence. The blood on his hands did not seem permanent. He had been a tool of deception and ire and treachery for so long that waking up alive in that hospital bed had been more agonizing than the scar healing on his neck. He had often wished for death, but not as vehemently as in those first few weeks. He returned to his childhood home at Spinner’s End and retched at the shell he had built and called a life. At least at Hogwarts, his magic echoed throughout the walls. At Spinner’s End, it drowned in deafening dust and silence. The only path he could see forward was to return to Hogwarts. It wasn’t a path per se, but he might be able to cobble an existence there.

Severus worried the connection with the castle had been broken for good, as he certainly would no longer be returning as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Upon his return, however, the soft whisper of a friend comforted him, and it was the first and only time he allowed himself to cry since the night in the Shrieking Shack when he believed his life was well and truly over. Minerva had been named Headmistress in name, but it seemed he still held the magic of the place. He had meant to ask her so many times over the years as they built an at-first-uneasy acquaintanceship, but there never seemed to be the right words, and she never let on that she felt anything other than admiration for the castle as a home and place, not… an entity. He knew in some recess of his mind that it was his duty to tell her of the continued connection, but the idea of another duty-bound conversation made him immediately defiant, and protective of the one post-war glimmer of kinship he had– and so, he did what he knew how to do best and remained silent.

The chime of the clock in the Potions classroom shook him out of introspection just as the third-year Slytherins and Ravenclaws made their way into the room and to their desks. Severus slipped his mask of indifference back in place and stood imposingly in front of the group of still chattering students. Though his demeanor may have softened towards his students, he still expected his pupils to be in form and ready to work when they entered this space.

“Yes, yes, welcome back. Now that you have all lost focus for long enough time to perhaps forget what I expect of all of you, we will refresh our memories with a brief examination on the Antidote for Common Poisons, which you should have read in your text while you were away.” The groans throughout the room alerted Severus that the third years likely had not been as attentive as he would have liked. He had decided not long after beginning his teaching post-war that it did none of the students any good to let them suffer all the time, and he felt generous.

“This will be an oral examination done in pairs. You will each dictate the proper steps for this potion to your potions partner, and they will do the same to you. You will then discuss the best way to brew this potion and combine your answers into the best of both. Begin!”

The students looked moderately more confident, knowing they didn’t have to make it through this particular examination alone, and Severus smirked as the castle cast a slight cushioning charm to his chair as if in approval.

You’re going soft on me, old girl. He thought in his occluded mind. But then again, so am I, it seems.

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Hermione moved about her first week at Hogwarts with relative ease. Being back at Hogwarts felt like being home for the first time in ages. Though the pace was at times exhausting and so different from her Ministry office job, Hermione reveled in the academic cadence of life and took to the students immediately. She was grateful that time had put distance between herself and the reputation of Gryffindor’s “golden girl.” The first few years of her post-war life had been a complex mix of thrilling and horrifying. Her fame brought with it debilitating scrutiny, and though this had been the case during the war as well, she was all too aware after the fact how much Hogwarts and her Muggle upbringing shielded her from the worst of it. Working towards her apprenticeship in Transfiguration and then employment at the Ministry had been a shock to her system, which caused a deep want for obscurity and anonymity. She forced herself into reclusiveness.

There seemed to be only so many times that reporters would be willing to camp out at all hours just to watch Hermione commute to and from work, then perhaps to the pub afterwards for one modestly sized glass of Sauvignon Blanc before being dropped of chastely at the door by Ron, who would then Apparate away, only to appear in her floo moments later (having travelled back to her more discreetly). Hermione was very thankful when the press and, in particular, the gossip magazines like Witch Weekly, realized that though talented in her field, Hermione was rather, well, boring. The most exciting thing she had done in years was move back to Hogwarts last weekend, and The Daily Prophet only wrote a modest article about the change of position in the middle of the magical business section, as if it was such an inevitability that it barely warranted a note. Hermione, on the other hand, felt she had moved deeply out of a comfort zone she had spent years cultivating.

Hermione felt deeply anxious about her new position. She also recognized within herself a damnable need to prove to this particular place that not only did she belong, but she would thrive as a faculty member of Hogwarts. It was one thing to teach Aurors how to break some curses they should already know how to break in the first place, and quite another thing to fill the shoes of Minerva McGonagall. She had to be exceptional, or there was no use in trying to turn around her life at all. If this job were to be her new purpose, she would throw her entire soul into the endeavor. Hermione decided to do what she knew best as a beginning measure: she spent hours reading as many past lesson plans as Minerva would let her have and absorbed all she could from watching her mentor in action. Hermione loved observing Minerva’s teaching techniques throughout the week. Minerva was firm, caring, and particularly impressive during demonstrations. She soaked in the familiarity of working with her mentor and made it through the majority of the week relatively unscathed.

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When Thursday evening crept upon Hermione, she felt almost settled as she gathered her first stack of assignments from her NEWT-level students and made her way to the private office of Severus Snape. Only as she reached for the door to the Potions classroom did her nerves settle. Hermione did not want any sort of confrontation tonight; she just wanted to get this over with and make it to tomorrow night, when she planned on having drinks with Ginny, Luna, and Harry to celebrate her first week back at Hogwarts. The door swung open almost immediately, and Severus Snape stood imposingly on the other side of the door.

“Professor Granger,” Snape acknowledged, with an annoyed look that made her feel like she was imposing on him when he had chosen the time and location. Snape walked across the classroom to the potions ingredients alcove. She had never noticed a door in this area of the classroom, but Hermione suspected that Snape had a rather strong Notice-Me-Not charm on the door. It opened to a spacious, low-lit office, and, she noticed, looking deeper into the room, an open archway that led into an even larger private potions lab. Hermione itched to explore the space, especially the towering bookshelves in Snape’s office, but she could not imagine a better way to make an enemy of this ornery man than to invade his space. Seeming to read her thoughts, Snape noted her curiosity almost immediately.

“By all means, Professor Granger, peruse the shelves, as long as you do so quietly and do not remove anything from these two rooms. I am in the middle of brewing and would prefer not to be disturbed.”

Hermione hesitated, knowing Minerva would expect some sort of report of at least the first meeting. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think the Headmistress intended us not to speak for the entirety of our meeting. She will likely ask–”

“I do not remotely care what you decide to tell her, Professor Granger, but I will be continuing my potion, and I would like to do so in peace. Feel free to regale the Headmistress with my actions; I know you will leave nothing out, to be sure.” Hermione bristled as Snape stalked away through the archway and into the private lab. Hermione followed him down a short flight of stairs, placing her papers and satchel on a bench opposite what looked to be a rather intricate and expensive potions set up.

“Well, can I at least help at all? What are you brewing? It hasn’t been so long since I’ve been in a lab, and though I won’t pretend to be a Master at the subject, I am a capable pair of hands.”

Snape glided around the table, robes billowing with a flick to clear his way, and quirked an annoyed eyebrow. “I am content working by myself, Professor Granger. You may use the time as you like.”

Hermione decided not to press the matter, but did set up at the bench lab table across from Snape’s table so that she could observe him whilst grading her students’ work. Snape had a large pewter cauldron half-full of an unknown black substance that looked viscous and shiny. She also noticed that he was carefully extracting minuscule Boomslang scales from a pristine skin with tweezers under a free-standing magnifying glass. This technique was not something she had observed, and she itched to ask what Snape was making, but thought better of it when she observed his concentration. Hermione instead contented herself with sneaking glances at his progress in between grading her students’ work and trying to glean from observation what Snape could possibly be concocting. The evening passed in relative silence, though Hermione noted that both she and Snape tended to mutter under their breath when frustrated. The act seemed human to Hermione, and she almost felt disappointed when the clock chimed the late hour.

Snape did little more than glance up at the alert and with a brief, “Goodnight, Professor Granger, I trust you can see yourself out.” He continued his work.

Hermione hummed in slight frustration but said nothing further as she gathered her materials. Snape did not acknowledge her departure, and Hermione was left feeling the weight of her own insignificance.

She trudged back to her quarters and was grateful for the lively greeting from Crookshanks, who waited patiently as Hermione dropped her satchel on the ground so that he could conduct a thorough inspection.

“Oh, Crooks, I don’t know what I expected from tonight, but it could not have gone more horribly,” Hermione said as she sat on the floor and twisted her fingers through Crookshanks’s tail. The part-kneazle gave her a side-eyed glance that seemed to indicate what she inferred as “don’t let the bastard get you down.” For the thousandth time, Hermione wished her familiar could speak and then realized how utterly lame that thought must make her. She groaned and lay prostrate on the cold hardwood.

Chapter Text

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CHAPTER 3
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Granger arrived late for breakfast, and rather in a huff about her tardiness, Severus noticed. The frazzled witch swept into the Great Hall the next morning, and an interesting panic radiated off her already flustered countenance when Hermione noticed there was no other seat available except the one directly to the left of Severus. Usually, he tried to sit at the end of the head table so that his left-handedness was uninterrupted by whatever oblivious staff member foolishly waved their limbs (in what Severus internally considered to be right-handed supremacy).

He could not count the number of times his utensils had almost gone flying or his copy of the Daily Prophet was smacked into submission, but he was lagging after a particularly sleepless night, and rather than be elbowed by Hagrid for an entire meal, Severus took a seat one down from the clumsy (albeit well-meaning) half-giant, leaving the only open seat between Hagrid and himself. When Granger sat unceremoniously and went for the now lukewarm coffee carafe in front of her, Severus felt momentarily smug that she would not be enjoying what now must have been black sludge in the cup in front of her. Since becoming Headmaster, the castle knew Severus’s preferences, one of which was a piping hot beverage, and his cup never dipped below a pleasant drinking temperature. He watched Hermione take a sip of her own cup and grimace.

As the meal progressed, Severus became lost in a particularly intriguing article involving the newest use of morning dew and silverdust concentrations to reveal ancient writings on an area of Stonehenge. Granger took a sip of coffee, made a small squeak of pain, and almost dropped the porcelain unceremoniously, causing Severus to look up, frustrated that his concentration had been broken.

Her morning cup must be ice cold, pity. Severus thought with slight satisfaction and tried to ignore the disturbance. He reached for his teacup and sipped. As soon as his lips touched the porcelain, Severus felt a deep vibrating tingle across his lips. He immediately and abruptly stood with the cup in his hand, examining every inch of the porcelain and casting a diagnostic spell. The first thing he noticed was a smear of deep, dusty mauve lip stain on the rim, but otherwise, there was nothing amiss with the beverage or receptacle. Realizing the stain must have come from Granger’s lips, Severus whipped his head to the woman next to him, whose hand was touching her lip. Her cheeks colored, and she looked away quickly. She paused for only a moment, then recovered.

“Professor Snape! I’m so sorry, I’ll call for a new cup. I picked up the one to my right without thinking–”

“It’s no matter, Professor Granger, I was taking my leave. Though I do wonder, if you are so unobservant as to miss which cup is your own, I can only imagine what you have missed in the professional areas of your life.” His frown deepened as he studied the perfect mauve lip stain on his coffee cup. Had his mouth settled on the lip stain she had left without noticing? He tried not to find the intimacy of the moment distracting. He glowered deeply to hide his surprise and departed for his first class, leaving Hermione sitting rigidly at the table.

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“Don’ think anything of it, Hermione!”

Hagrid’s words jolted Hermione out of her shock and mortification and reminded her she did have some allies at this table. “I me’self once went to grab a pasty and knocked an entire cup a’oolong hot as day all over the table when I was sitting next to Snape! I thought I was going to catch on fire from the sight of him, but then he hid behind that Occlumencin’ mask of his and helped me clean up all the same. No harm, no foul.” He patted her hand reassuringly, and Hermione smiled weakly back.

“Thank you, Hagrid. It’s been such a week, and I wasn’t paying attention. I just need to find my footing.” Especially with Professor Snape, it seems, she added to herself. What in the world just happened…

Hermione absently touched her lips again. The tingling had subsided for the most part, but she felt off-kilter, and not just because she was running late this morning. Her magic felt like it had slightly shifted. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly how, but the feeling disconcerted her. She walked to her classroom in a daze, ignoring the feeling that she was moving in the wrong direction, and she tried to put the sensation out of her mind.

When Hermione reached her desk, she saw there was no missive from Minerva on her desk, as she had expected there to be. Maybe Snape was successful in his persuasion of the Headmistress, and there would be no more meetings. That would relieve some significant stress, Hermione mused. But in the pit of her stomach, she felt strongly like giving up this partnership, as one-sided as it was, would be to admit defeat. That wasn’t the reputation she was trying to build.

Moreover, the tingling in her lips had moved lower, to her chest, in a way that no longer felt psychosomatic, which was deeply destabilizing. She was sure someone must be playing some sort of sick trick on herself and Snape and she couldn’t shake the dread that built in her gut at the thought of someone jinxing or charming them. She would have to spend her free period at the end of the day in the restricted section of the library searching for the cause of this inconvenience. Hermione had watched Snape cast a diagnostic spell on the teacup, so she knew it was not poison, but that left her at a loss.

Hermione pinched her nose in annoyance; what could she even search for? Likely minor jinxes or perhaps a student prank? Hermione spent the next few minutes before her tutoring session writing a short letter to George Weasley to see if Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes sold any teacups that produced the effects she was feeling. If a student was pulling a prank, there was a high likelihood that the product they used was of George’s design. If it were something more nefarious, though, the answer would be in the library.

Thankfully, the tingling she had felt subsided., Her sixth-year tutorial students put the incident out of her mind, with their insatiable need to learn heightening their frenzy to prepare for their final year at Hogwarts. Hermione would see this group through their NEWTs training next year. Minerva had hand-picked this group of students so that Hermione could oversee them, and the young teacher was so grateful. Not having gotten the privilege of a normal seventh year at Hogwarts, Hermione soaked in the feeling of youthful nerves and anticipation that her five students exhibited. Advanced Transfiguration was common and NEWT-level classes were usually much larger, but Minerva had asked Hermione to tutor this small group specifically, as these students hoped to go on to Mastery after their time at Hogwarts, grade willing. Penelope Patil, Ravenclaw and younger cousin of Padma and Parvati Patil, sat raptly in her seat as Hermione explained that for the last six weeks of classes, tutoring sessions would almost fully surround human transfiguration, and that the students would need to find a willing member of the class or from their group of friends to practice this difficult task.

“The request cannot come lightly, as you’re all novices. I can’t warn you enough that casting incorrectly may lead to, er, lingering effects.” Hermione smirked as she watched Hester Chambers, a Hufflepuff, cringe and go red.

“Professor Granger, side effects like what?” She squeaked nervously.

“Like tails and ears and the lot! Blimey, can you see Fawn with an actual tail!” Daniel Alashe interjected, gesturing to the prim Slytherin, Fawn Avery, who was absentmindedly picking a perfectly manicured nail. She tossed her sleek brown hair over her shoulder and sniffed haughtily in response to her boisterous Gryffindor classmate.

“Daniel, that would only happen if I agreed to partner with you, which I wouldn’t even do upon threat of certain death.” Fawn’s pointed gaze and sharp sneer made Daniel’s smirk deepen.

“We all know Slytherins have a bit of a death wish, though, don’t they, love?”

“Alright, that’s enough, the lot of you,” Hermione said, hiding her own smirk. She closed her teaching text loudly to add some gravitas, spooking Antony Jones, another Gryffindor, nearly out of his seat, likely because he had been busy mooning at the back of Fawn’s head. Hermione had noticed that though Antony barely spoke two words to the Slytherin girl, he spent much more time studying her than his transfiguration text. Hermione stifled a giggle, and the class calmed, but not before several remarks from Fawn and Penelope about “Gryffindor courage” and the absence of it.

Before time was up, Hermione saw Minerva lingering in the doorway, smiling as well, and Hermione wrapped up the Friday tutoring session. The students filed out excitedly, discussing their studies and Hogsmeade weekend plans while bidding their Headmistress hello. Minerva walked to the desk where Hermione stood.

“Aren’t they a lively bunch? They’ll pull you off topic given any chance, but I do enjoy them. Though don’t breathe a word of this to any of them, Mr. Alashe in particular. I will never hear the end of it.” In response, Hermione chuckled.

“I certainly haven’t been bored.” Hermione gathered her materials to head to the staff room for some peace while grading, and Minerva followed.

“Speaking of lively, how was your first meeting with Severus? Productive, I presume?”

Hermione hesitated, choosing her words. “It was… Yes, it was very productive. I feel like I’m getting to know Professor Snape’s character as a colleague.” This wasn’t necessarily a lie, Hermione maintained. She did feel like she knew more about Snape’s character, and none of it was particularly welcoming to her. She found his work intriguing, of course, but he would not be sharing any of that information or scholarship with her, so she would maintain neutrality and try to busy herself while she was forced to spend time in his presence. Easier said than done, you swot. She thought to herself. She was dying to know what he was working on, but asking Snape what he was brewing again made her feel ill.

“That’s not a bad start, I suppose,” Minerva responded. “But I do hope throughout this experiment that you will put those two great minds to work together. I’m certain you are being generous and that Severus shared next to nothing with you because he’s a stubborn fool, but that young man has a brain that could rival the founders, and he chooses to languish in his dungeon in solitude. It’s a bloody shame!” Hermione was taken aback by Minerva’s candor, but recovered quickly.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Headmistress.”

“Yes, you will, and so will he, if I’ve a mind to tell him,” Minerva replied, determined to land her point.

“Please, Minerva, let me handle it from here, for my pride's sake? Professor Snape sees me as a nuisance, and likely still a student.”

“I doubt that, Professor Granger, it’s been many years.”

“Nonetheless, I’d rather handle the matter myself. I have, er, a research question he might be able to help me on, and I’m hoping that might break the ice, as it were.” Hermione thought back to the teacup and the tingling aftereffects.

“Splendid!” Minerva replied with enthusiasm, “I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands.” The Headmistress bid her goodbye, and Hermione felt confident she had placated the situation, at least for a while.

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Severus spent his Friday evening as he spent most of that day: in an odd haze. The day had gone well enough, but the morning had been concerning, to say the very least. Severus had pocketed the empty porcelain cup after this morning’s incident and had spent his free moments casting every diagnostic spell he could remember, and more diagnostics of a Darker proclivity he had looked up in his private library during his free period. The result was the same every time: this was a normal porcelain teacup, no different than any other cup that was used in the Hogwarts kitchens. He could probably track down the maker’s extended family for all that he knew about this object now, but none of the information explained the almost-electric current that remained buzzing through his body for an hour as an aftershock of this morning’s incident.

Severus did not like things that seemed out of his control. After years of doing the bidding of other megalomaniacs who thought themselves his master, he spent most of his waking energy controlling his surroundings and expecting every outcome. This anomaly, and the person with whom it was associated, made him unsteady. Severus opted to skip dinner and decided instead to head directly to the restricted section of the library, knowing it would be deserted and quiet. He felt no magical presence in the room through his bond with the castle and entered without his usual performance of panache, which is why he almost tripped over a trolley full of dusty tomes and fell on his arse at the sight of Hermione Granger.

“Professor Granger,” He sputtered hopelessly, “You should be at dinner, what is the meaning of this–” Granger cocked her head curiously and Severus could feel that he had not masked his surprise. He deployed his Occulmency shields immediately and felt relieved at the emptiness that flushed over his body. Granger must’ve noticed the change in his demeanor and was ready on the defensive.

“Sir, with all due respect, the restricted section is for all faculty. I had a research question that needed answering.” Severus scanned her books and noticed the titles all pertained to cursed objects and their effects. He had spent time with these particular books many years earlier when a cursed necklace appeared in the hands of Katie Bell. If his suspicions were correct and Granger was also researching the teacup from this morning, he might not be so delusional after all; something unexplainable had happened. Severus’s jaw ticked in frustration.

“We will pursue this topic during our weekly meeting. Note the books you find relevant and have them sent to my office. We will continue in six days' time, and I would ask you to present what you have found.” Granger looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on her, and she blurted,“You felt something from the cup as well! I believed it to be a curse of some kind, but I’m so perplexed that I haven't felt any aftereffects or… results by now. All my diagnostics of myself came back negative, though I have a mind to ask Madame Pomfrey to run a more thorough exam, but I’m meant to meet friends in an hour in Hogsmeade, and I don’t want to be late.” Seveus stopped her with a hand.

“I have run such a spell on myself with no results, and can do the same with you. It will only take a moment.” Severus wasn’t sure why he was offering; the woman could easily go to Poppy and be late for her meeting. What did he care about her schedule?

“Would you? That would save me quite a bit of time and anguish.” The eagerness in her eyes had never left from childhood, it seemed, though the amber eyes looking back at him were deep pools. Severus shook himself.

“Well, we would not want that, Professor Granger. I will cast a diagnostic spell with an additional detection for Dark magic detection or after effects, and to do so, I will need to touch your right wrist with my hand, and my wand will touch the center of your forehead. Do you permit me to do so?” Severus saw a slight hesitation, but Granger stepped around the trolley of books and nodded her consent. Severus nodded curtly and released his hand from the cuff of his right wrist, where he kept it at all times. It was not lost on him the intimidating stance he held in front of this woman, who had arguably seen him at his worst and most destructive. Severus couldn’t understand how Granger could have seen him as a Death Eater for all those years and let herself be in a vulnerable position with him. He could kill her if he wanted. He could cast an Unforgivable and she would be weak to his whims. Instead, she looked at him calmly. Damn that Gryffindor courage.

Severus lifted his wand to her forehead as he touched his index and middle finger to Granger’s inner right wrist as lightly as he could.

“Ostende Malifica,” Severus whispered, but as soon as he touched the pads of his fingers to Granger’s wrist, white light burst in front of his eyes, and the room pitched itself into darkness except for the beacon of blinding light between himself and Hermione.