A/N: I tried not to make it too AU. It's believable. Yeah.
She had potential. Potential as potent as the potions she masterfully concocted just last year – but she didn't harness that potential. Instead, she bound herself into a simple weave of comfort and familiarity, wrapping herself in safety. The only difficulties she had to face now were the criticisms from her parents and friends. Yes; she has heard it enough times by now, she knows she really could have done so much better!
She hid from the cruelties of the world, behind the objects which had hidden her so well over the past 18 years. Behind the tall tomes Hermione felt safe – safer than she ever had during her escapades with Harry and Ron. How could they live with a constant fear for their lives? What would be wrong with living a life of comfort and safety, even if it meant declining a prestigious invitation to the Auror training program?
In the library, Hermione was hidden from the outside world. Concealed in a tight cocoon of warmth and books;glorious, glorious books. Much like Harry, she had never felt at home anywhere except in Hogwarts; even living with her parents no longer felt right. So when Madam Pince retired and the head librarian job opened up, it was hardly a choice worth debating.
It was a lonely job. Her friends were the biographies of famous witches and wizards; her family, the seven volumes of Hogwarts: A History. Occasionally she would chat with Ginny, who was now a seventh year, when she stopped in the library, but those visits were growing scarce. The library was seeing less and less visitors as midterms had passed, and sometimes Hermione would spend half her day staring at the particles of dust that glimmered in the sparse lighting.
The most active part of her day was spent shelving books. She thought it would be natural to despise such a mundane task, but strangely, it was the part of her job she enjoyed the greatest. The rest of her day was spent at her desk, either reading or checking books in and out and waiting for the off-chance that a student might ask for help finding a book.
On one particularly uneventful day, Hermione decided to crack open a volume on complex potions. The pages were delicate and torn, and the colorful stains that decorated each page emanated a familiar smell – a smell that reminded Hermione of times with Harry, Ron, Neville, Snape…mixing the polyjuice potion in her second year, carefully stirring together ingredients during her N.E.W.T. Potions exam….
"I do believe there has been a misplacement."
Hermione's neck snapped up from the old book at the sudden sound of the deep, silky voice and her eyes met those of Severus Snape.
"..S-Sir?" she stammered, startled.
"The Restricted Section, Row G." He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow in impatience. "I doubt there is anyone who has checked out this particular text. You must have shelved it in the wrong area."
She sat there for a second, just gaping at the man. Not only did he startle the living daylights out of her, he had transcended his boundaries of condescendence by implying that she, head librarian, had done something as juvenile as misplace a book. It was no matter, however; Hermione was actually quite glad to have something to actually help someone with, barring all insults.
"Let's go look, shall we?" Hermione said quietly, leaving her book of nostalgia behind as she walked swiftly towards the Restricted Section. As she came upon Row G, a realization dawned upon her.
"Oh, Professor," she said, chuckling and turning to him. "I'm so very sorry. I just realized that I actually took this book out for myself today…"
"You took out Gilbert Strong's Potion-Making for the Decidedly Dedicated?" Snape interrupted, slightly narrowing his eyes.
"Just to look….I'm obviously not talented enough or have any reason at all to actually create these potions," she spat, a little too bitterly. She could feel his pupils piercing into her as they locked eyes, but she wasn't going to back down.
"Why did you do it, Hermione?"
It was startling to hear her first name escape her previous professor's lips; but as she should have realized, he was right to address her as an adult now instead of a student. But none of this reasoning clarified such an odd question.
"Do what, exactly, Professor?"
"You know what. I'm sure you've heard this question enough times." His intense gaze relaxed, and Hermione suddenly understood what he was referring to. The same question she always got – why she didn't become something greater.
"I don't think that concerns you. But if you must know, I'm very happy with my job as head librarian. The book is on my desk, you are welcome to pick it up on your way out." She began to walk quickly in the opposite direction before Snape spoke.
"Hermione, I don't believe you are."
Hermione stopped abruptly in her tracks and turned slowly to face Snape. He stood there, less menacingly than normal, with his arms folded. Hermione was trying to come up with a nice way to tell him to bugger off when he began to speak once more.
"I'm actually in need of an assistant." His facial expression was very calm. "Else I wouldn't have bothered to delve into your personal matters, which I could care less about."
As she stood there, halfway turned at Snape and halfway turned to the side, dust particles lazily circling her body, Hermione's thoughts began to race.