Author's Note:
Given that this story takes place two summers post war, Hermione is 18.
Making her of age is both the Magical and Muggle worlds.
"Filthy Mudbloods in my house! Vile creatures! They all deserve to—"
Yanking the curtain as hard and quickly as she could, the only female child of the Weasley family silenced the portrait of Mrs. Black in the front entry. "That's quite enough of that, Madam!" she exclaimed.
Unfortunately, while the screaming oil canvas had been covered, the cause of her tirade was still arguing loudly with the Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even though the room they used to brew was on the fourth floor, everyone, down to Kreacher who had been retrieving some old rags from the basement, could hear them.
"At least the young Master could silence the Mudblood, but no, he allows her to—"
"Kreacher! That's enough from you as well," Ginny reprimanded him as he emerged from the basement steps.
The senile house-elf looked only partially abashed, for he had to obey her because she was his master's wife now. Obedience, however, did not mean respect.
Watching the elf sulk off to the kitchen, Ginny sighed. She never expected Kreacher to like her or even really tolerate her once she and Harry married earlier that spring, but she had hoped he would be a little less wary of her.
With the end of the Tom Riddle's reign of horror, defeated by Harry with the Elder Wand, there was finally peace in the world she held so dear. She finished her Hogwarts life alongside many older 7th years whose lives had been interrupted by the war. In the fall of that last year Harry asked her parents for their blessings and proposed to her on one lovely autumn evening. The trees were like fire, as bright as the witch's hair, and the air was crisp, but not cold.
There was so much celebrating in the common room after the wedding that the Ravenclaw tower sent a complaint to Professor Flitwick. The worst that happened was some removed contraband and a new rumor about the Ravenclaw head of house's interest in Muggle Brandy.
Smiling to herself at the memory, Ginny began to climb the stairs to the room where the elevated voices were coming from. She was tired of being the voice of reason between these two, and she in no different words told her husband that if this continued another week she would toss all of their supplies into the park across the street for every Muggle and sundry to see.
While it was the summer, she didn't understand why they couldn't brew at the school. All Harry said was that the Headmistress banned them from the dungeons during the break. And so, having a functional and protected lab already set-up from the war, they came to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Turning the corner for the third floor landing, the yelling abruptly stopped. Shaking her head, Ginny hesitated only a moment, not waiting for the shouting to continue again.
That conversation with Harry was last Tuesday and today was Sunday of the new week. She was resolved to keep to her plan of chucking out their supplies come Tuesday. So when she arrived at the door to the work room, opened it and entered, the sight within was not what she expected.
How many times had he told her the bicorn power would not work with this amount of diced spotted mushroom? For the last three days, this argument had been a constant sound in the lab. Each day his apprentice kept coming back with some new reference and theory why the pairing would work. And frankly, the weary spy was done entertaining this nonsense.
On one hand, seeing his apprentice so impassioned brought him positive emotions because he appreciated her ideas. On the other, she was driving him crazy. This was why he finally yelled at her, calling her a know-it-all. Unfortunately, the only effect it had was making her more determined to win.
He had not called her that name since waking up so many months ago in the Hogwarts infirmary and seeing her face. Explaining right away, she told him that Madam Pomfrey and herself worked together to create an antivenin with the Basilisk fang she and the youngest male Weasley had retrieved from the Chamber of Secrets. He had called her the name as his first words after her tale. She had the decency to be abashed and yet managed to shyly smile.
That was over a year ago, long before she had approached him about an apprenticeship. Even in that she had surprised him; it was downright blackmail, albeit not very good blackmail, but he was willing to play along. Basically, the Gryffindor brain had found a stash of illegal potions in his storage while she had helped brew the antivenin. Madam Pomfrey, usually a neutral party, joined in the blackmail, taking the young woman's side. Witches.
Recalling to other times he had seen this young woman on the defense, he thought of when she defended him with equal ferocity. In fact she was the one who led the search to bring him back from the Shrieking Shack. What little he remembered was of her calling his name as she tried to stabilize his body.
He also thought about when the witch came to his defense again holding off Aurors until the Headmistress arrived to denounce them as unwelcome.
"He is an injured professor and patient of this institution, who nearly died protecting Harry Potter—a student! You will not be taking him anywhere, Auror Garmin!"*
He never did properly thank her for that, even though he suspected it was her way of making amends for the way she treated him that year, her house traits being the key evidence for that gesture.
But as time went on, he recovered in the hospital over the last of the summer days, and the know-it-all bookworm stayed to help patients. That September brought the start of a new school year after the magical wards were recast and walls had been rebuilt. She of course enrolled right away to finish her 7th year. In between her classes, she would deliver potions she brewed, or drop off books for the Potion's Master. Occasionally the latest Ars Alchemica or Daily Prophet, or even more rare she would sit next to him for a few hours at a time. Mostly while he was asleep.
Once he was on his feet she was there again, offering her help. He did not gracefully send her away the first time. Truth be told, he was harsh with her several times and in doing so she vanished for two weeks. When she quietly re-appeared in his private lab doorway one cool evening, she was carrying a folded object and a small paper bag.
"Enter," he growled out.
"Sir, I um, I brought your items that were left in hospital wing." Her nervousness was evident in her tone, so much that the former spy looked directly at the young woman searching for deceit. When she looked away and blushed, she muttered something about, "Madam Pomfrey asked me to bring them. Have a good day sir."
As she fled the room the man sighed and made a mental note to write her a letter thanking her for her assistance. She had lost her confidence around him it appeared and if he was honest, he felt rather bad about it.
Ironically, no good deed goes unpunished, for it was shortly after his letter the girl slithered her way into an apprenticeship with him. She had managed to take a page from his own house and while, not perfect in her attempts, the older Slytherin was impressed.
In addition to her traditional apprenticeship roles—such as prepping ingredients, cleaning and polishing tools, taking dictation, research projects and brewing with her master—she had started her own habits with him. At first he was unsure what the motive was behind her making him tea each morning when she arrived for her instructions. She knew how he liked his tea without him having ever told her. She also started reorganizing his student storage closet, starting with a proposal for a new layout. The more common ingredients went in alphabetized order on the lower shelves and the less used ones toward the top shelves.
Thinking even more about her odd habits that seemed to revolve around making his life easier, he noticed she had stopped asking so many questions. This came as a relief to him because his neck and voice were still recovering. But even that behavior didn't quite prepare him for the revelation that his apprentice was harboring feelings for him.
What had been a quiet day of brewing turned into fruitless research. In a moment of strong frustration, the Master yelled out in an unusual force at his apprentice. She tried to make herself small in the work room and didn't speak to him much after his outburst. It wasn't her fault, and unfortunately at the time she was the closest thing to belittle. Eventually she finished her task and with a quiet 'good day' left for her classes.
It wasn't until the Headmistress entered his office later asking what he had done to his apprentice that he realized just how much anger he had taken out on the poor girl. She was able to work with his snarky, surly and terse side, but that outburst in the lab earlier was not something she had encountered before.
"Severus, she thinks you hate her. She came to my office, beside herself, thinking that you were going to dismiss her," she explained.
"It was simply a misunderstanding Minerva, I will speak with her about it," he said hoping to placate the Headmistress.
When Severus heard a small sigh come from the Scottish woman, he knew he was in for more than just a simple "word of advice". Setting down his quill, he leaned back from his desk, pinched his nose and took the bait. "Out with it, Minerva."
"I'm not quite sure how to say this, Severus, and you and I have never spoken about Potter's mother or matters of the heart in this manner," she began, unsure of how to approach the subject. She nodded to herself and then sat down in the office chair across from his desk. "Severus, are you aware that Miss Granger went back to the Shrieking Shack for you, alone, that night when the battle was over?"
"I was aware she was the one who found me, yes, but I did not know she was alone." Suddenly he felt a rush of anger at the young woman for being so foolish.
"She also volunteered to make the antivenin and to be your help during recovery." She did not want to say nurse because of the connotation that he was that feeble at the time.
"I am also aware of that—Minerva if you are trying to say something speak plainly like the Gryffindor you are and stop beating around the bush."
She looked him in the eye, nodded, spoke her words and with a final token of advice left the shocked silent man to think over this new information.
"Severus, she is in love with you. I could not tell you for how long, but knowing her I suspect it's been longer than since the spring. I would gather a guess since her 6th year."
The woman did her house proud with her bluntness, then had added softly, "I realize this probably never occurred to you as a possibility and I highly doubt anyone beside Poppy and myself have even noticed. She hides it well, and while I'm not telling you this to scare you away as her Master, I felt you should be aware. You don't need to treat her any differently I suppose, but maybe consider the fact that, oh goodness, that you are worthy of love," she tried to explain.
Whatever the Headmistress had come to tell him about his apprentice, this was the last thing he expected. Not since waking up alive in the infirmary had he been this shocked.
"I doubt she will ever tell you herself, she's very logical and I expect that since she has held her affection so close already she would never try to overstep her boundaries," Minerva explained. "I won't let you dismiss her over this and I know you are the most pious of men so I am not concerned in that regard as your superior. I'm simply going to finish with this: consider what you say."
The man sat in a stunned silence, unaware that his employer and friend had left a long while ago. This information was not something he knew how to label, cull or even organize in his head. Where previously there was a neat file called Hermione Granger, now it was a cluttered mess.
It took him weeks to be able to organize that mess and when he did, it was as Minerva suggested, an observation. Once he had explained his frustration that day he lashed out he noticed she was more relaxed and even comfortable around him. He never mentioned Minerva's visit and the apprentice never brought up that day to her Master.
Over the next six months Severus observed his apprentice and began to see things he had passed over before. Such as the care she took when she added the sugar to his tea; two scoops exactly, or the way she carefully used his silver scales and cleaned them to his standards each time, and even the way she read his books: respectful to the writer and their owner.
Then, about three months into his observations there was an accident, nothing major, but his head hurt for days. A tincture he had been working on went foul, emitting a noxious colorless odorless fume. His head hit the corner of the work table as he passed out from the fumes. Not until he awoke later to the sight of his apprentice in tears trying to shake him awake did he begin to see more than simply her gestures towards him.
She tried to hide her crying and to pretend that it was simply the fumes that now smelled vile, but Severus could see she was trying to shrink in on herself and make herself small. All this while trying to help him into a seated position, banishing the tincture, flooing the resident healer and getting him some water and a cool compress.
He didn't say anything, he simply watched her. If she had noticed him following her moves she didn't give any sign. She was attempting to remain calm, but the subtle shaking in her form revealed her. It also briefly crossed his mind: this was the first time she had touched him since being released from the hospital wing.
Once Madam Pomfrey arrived, healed the gash, which he found out had bled a significant amount over his face, he was sent to his rooms to rest. Catching himself in the mirror, even he started; a sight of beauty indeed for his apprentice to find. It was no wonder she was so beside herself. The heroic witch had saved the Half-Blood Prince one day, only for him to die another.
He didn't see Hermione until the next day for her scheduled tasks. She looked how he felt, but she tried to hide it. Her hair pulled into a messy bun, shadows under her eyes and a weariness that could only come from night terrors. An idea, perhaps an experiment, came to mind.
"Miss Granger, please sit a moment," he said, gesturing to a desk as he came around to the front of his desk.
She smoothed her uniform skirt and sat gently into the chair, letting her heavy bag lump onto the floor.
Leaning back on his desk, arms folded, "I apologize that you had to find me in such a state yesterday. I'm sure it was a shock, given the last time you saw me in such a manner. I am grateful for your quick actions and I find myself once again in your debt."
"You don't owe me anything!" she blurted out. Suddenly turning beet red, she looked down at her folded hands. "I was concerned, yes," she looked up with eyes full of concern and affection, "there was just so much blood and I thought you had been attacked."
Severus' heart stilled slightly looking into her eyes, she bore the weight of her emotions in them.
"Will you be alright, sir?" she continued.
He nodded, "While I will not be brewing for a few more days as a precaution since concussions can affect your magical imbuing of the potion, I am doing fine."
She visibly relaxed and then amazing him more, she smiled, "I'm glad."
Recalling those days and the obvious nature of his apprentice's affection, once properly observed, the Master was more directed in his interactions with her. In one manner he was subtlety encouraging of her hopes, allowing her more into his quiet moments, in another he had difficulty reconciling if he was, as Minerva said, 'worthy of love'.
Worthy of her love.
So now, on the 4th floor of the London house, as his know-it-all apprentice stood hands on her hips, hair defiant around her, eyes bright with defense, the one-time Headmaster came to a conclusion. He needed to shock her into silence. For both his sanity and that of the entire house he needed to put an end to this "discussion". Argument over, case closed, the Master has spoken kind of silence.
So he decided right then to stop her tirade of points and counter points and references in the only way he knew would be effective.
Stepping into her personal space he lifted his hands to gently cup her face on either side and kiss her, his eyes drifting shut.
The silence that filled the room was wonderful. No yammering. No kvetching about which method was better. Just her lips, her soft lips that trembled lightly. Her body had gone rigid in shock, but after a moment of being held captive by his kiss, her shoulders fell and her hand softly found his elbow and to his researcher joy, she began to kiss him back.
If Severus had to name this moment, bliss would have been an appropriate choice. That is until the newly minted Mrs. Potter entered the room.
Pulling away reluctantly Severus turned to the red-headed witch and waited for whatever tirade she was going to lash at him. A side glance showed Hermione had a flushed face, swollen lips and a glossed over gaze firmly directed at his shirt buttons.
When the former Miss Weasley didn't say anything Severus cut the dense air with, "Either out with your thoughts, Mrs. Potter, or out of the room with yourself."
Later that evening when it was just Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter alone in the kitchen, Ginny explained what she had witnessed upstairs.
The mortified silence of her husband that spanned the time after the recollection until Ginny finally spoke once more could have carried a man to the moon.
Author's Note:
I wrote this story with the idea of a theme of people or creatures becoming silent.
A very grateful thank you to kci47 for beta reading this for me and catching all those pesky commas!
* Auror Garmin is a nod to Caeria's amazing story Pet Project. I can never sing enough praise about it to all my SSHG friends.