One never expects to be old enough for a school reunion, yet they sneak up on people all the time.
The passage of time is a funny thing. One second you feel as if it has been ages since you attended your classes, ate meals with your friends, and slept in your dormitory every night; the next feels as if those experiences happened only yesterday. At some points, you still feel like a young child getting, clueless as to what life has to offer and to what you're supposed to be doing with you life; at others, you feel wizened by the world.
Five years had passed already since I attended Hogwarts Academy, and I couldn't tell if it felt more like five seconds or fifty years. As I leaned my head against the window of the car winding up the long drive of the school grounds, I thought back on my years there. Seven years living inside of a bubble, a dream essentially, with my closest friends and greatest rivals.
With people I wished to forget, and people I knew I never would.
It was on those people and my experience that I was dwelling when Hogwarts suddenly burst into view.
Hogwarts Academy Five-Year Alumni Weekend took place in the early fall, during a weekend where the current students were away. Former students were invited back to the old stone castle that housed the school, sleeping in their dorms - or, if related to a wealthy enough benefactor, in one of the guest houses at the edge of the school's property. The fifth year reunion was always the biggest and the most important, for it marked the first return to school for all of us. It also marked the point in time where the school could begin to ask us for donations.
Boarding schools are expensive to maintain, you know.
The lawns in front of the castle were covered with a large white tent, a few people milling about underneath it as I stepped out of the car. I grabbed my suitcase from the back and made my way toward the front steps of the main castle, wondering how I would find my friends in all the hubbub. Luckily, they found me first.
"Hermione!"
I saw Ron first - it was hard not to, considering his height. His red hair and goofy smile were a comforting sight. Harry - tall, but not quite as tall as Ron - stood next to him, his glasses and black hair in equal disarray. I felt myself smiling as they ran toward me.
Harry reached me first, Ron right on his heels.
"We haven't seen you in ages! How's America been? How's your family? What's Harvard like? Why haven't you visited?"
The rapid fire questions, while intrusive, were oddly comforting. These two boys - and their incessant badgering of questions - felt like home. In this moment, I regretted moving to America to study. It's not like a lack of opportunity existed in Britain, or Europe in general.
As they kept going on and on about life back here - Harry's relationship with Ron's sister, their jobs, their weekend football league - I looked around the grounds at all of the familiar faces. Hogwarts was known for its small class sizes - I knew everyone in my entire year, and most outside. Every face held familiarity, every name came right to the forefront of my mind, everything came rushing back. Even those I hated. Hogwarts was a home, a family, regardless of how much I liked everyone or what was experienced within its walls.
Realizing how much I missed everything…school, my friends, Britain, even the people I didn't like…
Interrupting whatever Ron was trying to say, I burst forward and pulled the two boys into a tight hug. They both just chuckled and accepted it.
Why did I ever leave this place?
Seconds later, though it seemed like much longer, a deep cough split the three of us apart.
"What a…charming display."
Of course.
Now I remembered why I left.
Professor Severus Snape.
People joke that every so often, a student develops a crush on a teacher. Usually it's when you're young and don't know any better, and passes by the next school year.
So when in the beginning of third year, my fourteenth birthday a mere fortnight away, I began to see Severus Snape as more than just my surly, awkward chemistry instructor, I didn't think anything of it. I figured it would go away in a few months, maybe a year.
It did not.
As time progressed I found myself more and more fascinated by him. His intelligence was unmatched by anyone I had ever met, and that itself was a huge draw. Watching his hands completing experiments in class had a captivating, almost hypnotic effect on me. And his voice was legend around the school - silk and smoke and dark chocolate and sin.
When word came out that the rumors of him previously being a spy for the Crown, having defected from the government of an Eastern European threat to security, were actually TRUE, I was forced to add skill, bravery, and courage to the list of things I found admirable about the man.
When I realized I found his striking features attractive rather than off-putting, as everyone else did, I knew I was doomed.
At fifteen I began to go out of my way to try to get his attention. I could not explain why - I was fifteen, no one knows why they do anything at that age - but I desperately wanted him to notice me. It was small things at first.
Saying hi to him whenever I walked by him in the halls was the first step. No one ever did, except those in his own house who wanted to suck up to him or avoid getting into trouble. So whenever I saw him in the halls, I would smile and wish him a good day. He ignored me at first, then after a month or so just moved on to looking at me strangely when I greeted him.
The first time he said "good morning, Miss Granger" back to me, I felt my heart burst inside my chest.
I became a woman obsessed. I found ways to stay after class: asking questions I didn't really have, "dropping" my bag and losing my supplies, taking a long time to clean up after an experiment (though he and I both knew I was the first one done and it was done perfectly).
By the time I was a fifth year I knew I was well and truly fucked.
He was all I thought about. He haunted my dreams. I did anything and everything I could just for him to spare me the slightest bit of attention - nothing inappropriate, illegal, or uncouth, but everything within my mental power as a teenager. On top of that, I was working myself into an early grave trying to impress him in classes.
My work paid off when, on my sixteenth birthday, Headmaster Dumbledore told me I was being taken on as Professor Snape's assistant.
The next two years until graduation passed both as fast as a flash of lightning and as slow as molasses. I spent three nights a week with Professor Snape in his lab - prepping experiments, copying notes, annotating articles, and even assisting with his own personal research. I learned he was meticulous in his work (which I predicted), that he had a personal library to rival any collegiate institution, he had a biting wit and sarcastic sense of humor, and he hummed when he read. He took his tea with just a splash of cream, preferred dry red wine over all other kinds of liquor, and hated being proven wrong.
He also threw things when really, really incensed.
He granted me permission to call him Severus when in private toward the end of my final year, and encouraged me to further my scientific research post-graduation. During class he acted as if nothing was different between the two of us, but every once in a while I saw him smirk or roll his eyes in my direction when a student was particularly obtuse, and I would receive random books and articles in the post that could only have come from him. We shared jokes, and stories, and thoughts, and dreams, and fears.
It was as if he liked me.
I was valedictorian of our graduating class, and gave a speech about camaraderie and resilience and pride and all that typical rot. At the small reception after the ceremony, I went up to him to thank him for years of inspiration. He kissed my hand - like a true gentleman - and told me to keep up my studies and to keep the school posted of my future success.
And that was that. Nothing more. Until halfway through my first year at Oxford.
He was the guest professor of a scientific research seminar I was taking. He seemed to really blossom teaching university students who truly wanted to be there. But there was no indication from him that he knew me, or that I was special to him. None at all.
I ran into him at a pub halfway through March. He was sitting alone in a corner, nursing a glass of wine and reading a book in some language I didn't know. I was a couple shots deep already and feeling bold, so I walked over to his table.
"Why have you been ignoring me?"
He didn't look up. "Miss Granger, I was not under the impression that I needed to pay any of my students any sort of preferential treatment."
I felt stung. "I just thought…"
"Miss Granger, while you were my student in the past as well as the present, I owe you no sense of allegiance. You are currently just another faceless character in my seminar. You are not special to me, nor have you ever been. Now would you Kindly leave me to my drink and go."
I stood, anger and hurt pulsing through my veins. His cool, casual dismissal of me, after we had spent years working together, felt like he stabbed an icicle into my heart. Everything ran cold.
"I can't believe I ever admired you, you heartless bastard. I can't believe I ever fell for you. Go to hell, Severus Snape." I turned to leave before he could respond, not wanting to see his reaction.
I barely made it outside before I collapsed crying in the street. The next day, I withdrew from Oxford. A week later, I told Harry and Ron I wanted to apply to do medical research in America, and moved to Boston three days after that. In September, I began at Harvard and remained there ever since.
I loved Severus Snape, and because of him I ran away.
"How lovely to see the three of you…back together."
His voice still sounded like velvet and smoke, and I resisted the urge to shudder as it washed over me.
Surprisingly, Harry - who had always disliked Severus - spoke first.
"Lovely to see you again, Professor. It's a true joy to be back."
Ron chimed in. "It's nice to be back, Professor. Feels like just yesterday we were driving you up the wall, eh?" He smirked, his boyhood charm still evident.
I couldn't bring myself to look at the man, so I spoke to the ground. "Good morning, Professor."
If Ron thought something was off about how I greeted the man - meekly instead of confidently, as was my norm - he didn't say anything. "Hermione was just about to tell us about America. She's been living there for the past few years, did you know?"
At this, I let myself look up at him, just to gauge his reaction. His eyes widened in surprise for a split second; I doubt anyone else would have even noticed. But in an instant his features settled back to cool detachment.
His hair was longer, tied back behind him, and looked cleaner than the last time I had seen him. He was also wearing glasses, which was new. He looked so good I could cry.
"Is that so?" He seemed to make the sentence last a minute, incredulousness seeping into his question. For some reason, that is what got my blood boiling again, and I stood up straight as I faced him head on.
"Yes sir, I've just graduated. I'll be beginning a PhD program at Yale University in Connecticut in a few months. But I don't see why that is any of your business. Now, if you'd excuse me, I would like to catch up with my friends, as I have not seen them in a very long time. Good day, sir."
With that, I dragged Harry and Ron back into the castle, once again walking away from Severus Snape without bothering to see his reaction.
Just inside the entrance hall, however, we were interrupted yet again.
"Nice one, Granger. He's been in a foul mood for months now. It's nice to hear someone tell him off."
I forgot how much I disliked Draco Malfoy's voice.
Draco was Professor Snape's godson, and he was a right bastard in school. He made fun of my hair, my teeth, my accent, my clothes on weekends, everything about me. He was foul and cruel and made me cry on numerous occasions.
And, apparently, in the five years since I had seen him, he had apparently taken it upon himself to "reinvent" himself, and try to become a kinder, more understanding person. Which I guess I appreciated. That's what happens when your father is arrested for corruption, I guess.
"Um…I actually was hoping to run into you three. I wanted to apologize. For everything during school. I know I was terrible and cruel and horrid, especially to you three, and I know I can't change what I did, but moving forward I really want to be a different person. Do you think we can try to start over?"
I heard Harry and Ron answer, but just barely. I could sense that Severus had re-entered the entrance hall, and was standing still near the door. Was he listening in on our conversation?
"So, party tonight? I'm in one of the houses. Think of it as a peace offering. I donated the money myself, thought it was a good thing to do. I didn't want the house, but Godfa-Professor Snape insisted. But I have the space, and I think it would be…nice."
Harry and Ron answered for me - the boys could never turn down a good time. We were going to Draco's party.
The party was very loud.
The second we walked in, the music enveloped us. Someone handed me a cup of something, and Harry and Ron went to talk to Dean about some football thing. I did what I typically did at parties - stand with my back against a wall and watch for a bit, until I see someone I truly want to talk to. It usually worked well for me.
Except this time, I was cornered by Gregory Goyle.
Gregory had always had a weird fascination with me that was beyond my comprehension. It didn't surprise me that he found me not five minutes after I arrived. What did surprise me was his size. He was twice as large as I remembered, and while he was large and dumb in school, I had never really been afraid of him.
At this point in time I was.
"Been hoping to get you alone. You got real pretty since school, Hermione."
"Uh..thanks Goyle." I looked frantically around for Harry or Ron, but couldn't find them.
"You can call me Greg, you know. I have a feeling we're going to get to know each other well this weekend." He took a step closer to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and letting his finger caress my neck. His breath smelled like cheap tequila, cigarettes, and dried beef.
I wanted to cry.
"Oi! Goyle! Crabbe got something stuck on his head, help him out!"
I had never been happier to hear Draco's voice. Goyle sighed, winked at me, and walked away. I stood frozen, even as Draco walked up to me.
"You okay, Hermione?"
I just blinked.
He put a gentle hand on my shoulder and led me to an empty room in the house. He left for a second, but then came back with a glass of water.
"I'm sorry about that. He's been talking about you non-stop for weeks, I should've known he'd try to corner you. You can hang out here, if you want. I'll make sure he stays out of your way."
I took a sip of water; it felt cool running down my throat. I could finally find my voice.
"Why are you doing all of this?"
Draco sighed and sat up against the wall opposite me. I realized now we were in a spare room of sorts, narrow but not cramped.
"Living in the shadow of a manipulative bastard is hard to do, especially when you idolized him for years without realizing the consequences of that."
He sighed again, taking a flask out of his pocket and taking a sip. He held it out to me, and I took a sip as well.
Which is how I learned Draco has excellent taste in gin.
"I want to start an organization. Helping children get a better education, maybe even adults who couldn't go to school for some reason. That's part of why Godfather insisted on giving me the house. He's acting as my sponsor now that Father is in prison. He thinks it'll be nice to have my name freely associated with a school."
I mulled that over. The Draco wanting to help people seemed so different from the Draco I knew, it was hard to combine the two into one person.
"I want a clean slate, and that means with everyone. I wronged a lot of people in the past. It's hard to make up for all of that, but I figure just being nice to people here is a start."
I took another sip from his flask when he offered it to me, and then another. Soon, we were both just freely talking to each other, as if we weren't childhood enemies. We both seemed to forget the party was even happening.
"So why did you go to America?"
I sighed. I felt obligated to be honest with Draco, but didn't want to tell him about how I felt.
"I just needed to escape. Get away from everything for a few years."
He just nodded, thankfully.
I smirked. "Did Crabbe really get something stuck on his head?"
Draco laughed and looked back at me. He had a nice laugh, and nice eyes. It was shocking, for some reason.
"Yeah, but what Goyle doesn't know about me putting the bin on his head won't hurt him." This time, it was my turn to laugh.
Draco was not his godfather. Not by a long shot. But he was being nice, and he was pretty, and I was tipsy and lonely. So when he leaned forward to kiss me, I let him.
It was a nice kiss. Sweet, even. It made me smile.
Nice kisses don't keep you up at night.
I fell asleep at the house - not in Draco's bed, but on a couch. Ron slept in the chair next to me, and I was thankful for the sight of his familiar form to act as a buffer between me and Draco. I couldn't tell if Draco actually liked me, or if he was drunk and caught up in the moment as well, but I didn't want to find out. He and I quietly snuck back to the main castle, catching up with a few other stragglers, and got changed for the brunch out by the Boathouse.
The Bruch was the main welcome to Alumni Weekend, even though it was the day after everyone arrived. The Boathouse used to be a functioning boathouse, but was renovated in the 1900s to be the guest house for important visitors to the school who didn't want to stay in the castle for some reason. Or it was the Headmaster's summer home. Or something like that. I didn't remember.
The atmosphere walking down to the event was cheerful, though I kept thinking back on my kiss with Draco. After we kissed the one time, we both went back to the party and went our separate ways - him talking to Blaise Zabini, and me being dragged into conversation with Hannah Abbott.
I hoped he didn't think anything came of it.
I told Harry and Ron about it because I told them everything…well, almost everything. But they took it fine, and I told them nothing was going to come of it. I didn't want anything to come out of it. They just nodded.
However, I should've counted on their inability to keep their mouths shut with alcohol nearby.
"So, Malfoy, do we gotta invite you to family dinners now or what?" Ron's voice - three beers deep - carried across the lawn, and everyone stopped and turned.
"What do you mean, Weasley?" Draco seemed unfazed, but everyone was still staring.
"You and Mione, of course. Heard you hooked up last night. Is that a thing or what?"
Time moved in slow motion. The glass I was holding fell, shattering on the patio. Harry shoved Ron, eyes wide. Draco still looked put together, but a muscle in his eye twitched, betraying his annoyance.
Then, out of nowhere, Severus punched Draco in the face.
I didn't even know Severus was there.
"You little BASTARD." Severus' voice rang out across the lawn. Draco, ever the self-preserving type, started running back toward the castle - or just away from the boathouse, and Severus left hot on his tail.
I just stood there frozen. Shock and confusion warred inside me hard enough that I couldn't think to be angry at Ron for what he said.
"Mione?" Harry's voice was small, breaking through the glass bubble I had somehow encased myself in. I blinked. Everyone was looking at me. Whispers passed through the crowd. I could see, in the distance, Severus shouting at Draco.
I ran.
The Boathouse was unlocked, meaning someone out there was looking out for me. I slammed the door, rushing up the stairs to the small, spare bedroom on the topmost floor and slamming the door behind me. I sat with my back against the wall opposite the plain wooden door, too shocked and stunned to cry.
What seemed like possibly hours later, footsteps pounded up the stairs. I figured it would be Harry or Ron or maybe even Draco, but it was worse.
It was Greg.
"Well what's a pretty little thing like you doing all by yourself?" He leered at me, but I didn't have the energy to fight back.
"Just go away Greg."
He stepped into the room, holding the doorknob with his left hand like he was moving to push the door closed. "Now I don't think I will, Hermione. I think I-"
He couldn't finish his sentence, because he was pulled from behind out of the room by an unseen force, dragging the door shut with him. I buried my head in my arms again. I dully recognized what sounded like flesh hitting flesh, then a heavy set of footsteps receding downstairs. Then silence.
I thought I was alone at last, until I heard the door creak open again silently. And this time, it was Severus in the doorway.
"Come to berate me?" I asked, not hiding the hurt in my voice. He just slid into the room and closed the door and locked it behind him, sitting on the foot of the bed.
"Or are you still going to ignore me? That works too, I'm used to that." He continued to say nothing, and I just stared at the door in silence. We stayed like that for ten minutes.
"Congratulations, this is the longest you've actually willingly spent in my presence in probably our entire time of knowing each other. I'm impressed. You can leave now, I'm sure you hate being up here with me."
"Hermione." The way he said my name was almost like a whispered prayer.
He had never used my first name before, not even when I told him to.
I turned my gaze to him. He was still staring at the wall, refusing to even turn toward me. "What, Severus. What do you possibly want from me." He didn't flinch at my use of his name. He never technically revoked the privilege.
"Draco likes you, you know. Has for years. That's part of the reason he was such a brat to you in school. He never knew how to show affection properly. I blame his father."
I tore my gaze from him and back to the wall. "If you knew he liked me, why did you punch him when you found out he kissed me."
"I-" He paused. I snorted and buried my head back in my arms.
After another ten minutes, he spoke again. "Why did you leave Oxford?"
The retort was quick on my tongue. "I don't know, why did you act like I was less than nothing to you while you were there?" I was greeted by silence. "That's what I thought." I buried my head again. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone. I'd say my weekend was thoroughly ruined, and I don't need to deal with you ignoring me to my face on top of it all."
I waited, but didn't hear the door open.
"I was scared."
I thought I imagined him speaking, but when I looked up I saw he was finally looking at me. There was…something in his eyes that I couldn't place, but it burned and pinned me in place.
"I was scared that I was falling for a student, an underage student. Someone in my care. In all my years of teaching that had never happened, and I didn't know how to handle myself because of it. So I told myself that after you graduated, I would distance myself.
"I wanted you to go and experience life after graduating here, distance yourself from your time here. Maybe find someone more your…equal in everything. I didn't expect you to be in my class, and when you were I panicked. And I lashed out to push you away.
"And then you left…" At this, his voice broke, and I was floored. Severus Snape didn't cry.
"I didn't know until a few days after we spoke at the pub that you withdrew - I ignored my mail that weekend, I was too busy berating myself for how I spoke to you. And then you were gone. I had no clue where you were. I looked you up. It was like you vanished. I didn't know you were in America until yesterday when Mr. Weasley mentioned it."
He paused, and then added in barely a whisper, "I thought I pushed you away forever."
He sighed and pushed forward. "Draco had an inkling of my...feelings for you. Whenever he brought you up it felt like a dagger in the heart, and I guess he began to notice. I convinced him it was petty anger that you left my class without any form of courtesy, and he bought it. But when I heard he kissed you, I snapped. I knew it wasn't personal, but it felt that way. I...lost control." He hung his head, signaling the end of his explanation.
I was stunned by everything he admitted. I couldn't think, couldn't speak, could barely breathe. He turned back away from me to stare at the wall again. I felt a dry lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow.
"Why did you come up here." My words weren't really a question as much as a demand for an answer.
"I needed to see you."
"You saw me yesterday."
"I needed to see you alone."
"You had me alone with you as your lab assistant for years. You could speak to me alone that night at the pub. I don't get what is so special about now. Is it because I kissed your godson? Do you need to know it was a drunken mistake for your own peace of mind before you go off and ignore me again? What's so different about this moment right now?" He was silent again, and it pierced me like a knife. "I see. Nothing is different. I hoped this eased your conscious, Snape."
He winced when I resorted to his last name. At least it got a reaction.
I stood from the wood floor and brushed the dust off my pants. "Thank you for your hospitality, sir, but I don't think I will be staying for the rest of Alumni Weekend. I'd say write if you need me, but you never do, so I don't feel the need to waste my breath. I hope you have a good life." I made my way toward the door.
A hand on my wrist stopped me before I could turn the knob. His touch lit up every nerve in my body. My pulse jumped. I needed him to let go before I broke.
"Please let me go, Severus." I hated the break in my voice, how weak I sounded, but there was nothing I could do. This was already painful enough. I closed my eyes against the tears threatening to escape.
"No." My heart froze. I heard him stand and take a step closer to me, almost pressed against my back. "Not this time, Hermione."
One tear slipped down my face, followed by another. "What do you want from me?"
His hand loosened from my wrist, instead moving to my shoulder and turning me to face him. "I-" he began, but stopped, seeming to second guess himself. Instead, in one swift move, he placed his hand at the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to his.
Draco's kiss was nice, but this kiss - Severus' kiss - was electrifying.
It felt like my body was being warmed from the inside out, lights going off behind my eyes, fireworks setting off at every nerve. His lips were soft and pliant, and when his tongue swept against the seam of my lips I couldn't help but moan in response, opening up to him.
This. This is what I had been yearning for since I was a student. It wasn't hyped up in my head, the imaginings of a schoolgirl crush. This was a life-changing, head-spinning, showstopper of a kiss that I never wanted to end.
But end it did, with him peppering soft kisses against my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids, and slowly pulling back until his forehead rested against mine, his thumb tracing circles on my cheek. My body was humming with electricity.
"I want you to stay. Here. With me. I want to take back all of the torment I put you through and the way I treated you and I want to be with you and I…I want you to stay. Please, Hermione. I don't…I don't think I can go on if you don't."
I thought back to what my life had been like the past few years, once I left and went to America. I studied with some of the brightest scholars in the world. Conducted my own research. Managed to impress not one but two Ivy League schools.
And I did it all while so, so very lonely.
Did I want to be alone again?
I couldn't form the words yet, so I pulled him back down to another kiss, this one more heated than the first. His hands worked their way under the hem of my shirt, and my skin burned where his hands met my back, my sides. Somehow, as his mouth moved from my lips to my cheek to my neck, I managed to undo the buttons of his shirt and remove his cravat, feeling hot, hard skin and muscle as my hands worked up his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me as close to him as possible, backing us up until we fell onto the bed.
I don't know how long it took for the rest of our clothes to come off, but it was too long. My skin burned wherever he touched me. When I finally felt him inside me, I knew what it was like to truly feel, to truly be engulfed in emotion and sensation and feeling. When he moved, every cell in my body came alive with fire.
I learned that day how much I love fire.
Hours later, we were still in bed, my head pillowed against his chest, his hands playing idly in my hair.
"If I stay, would you push me away again."
That was the fear in the back of my mind since his lips touched mine for the first time, the one I managed to push away with pleasure and desire and carnal want. But now, in the afterglow, it made its way back to the front again.
"I don't think I could if I wanted to. I've…I've loved you for a long time, Hermione."
I looked up at him, and the pure emotion in his eyes made it impossible for me to doubt his words.
He loved me.
This man, this intelligent, hard, brooding, moody, passionate man. Who could make me laugh and cry and want to throw things in the same moment. He really, truly loved me.
"I love you too, Severus. I have for years." I was beginning to think that it never was a crush, even back when I was fourteen and naive. That I could never have felt something so small for so monumental of a person.
"Hermione, I…" he broke off, as he had so many times earlier. It seemed that talking openly about his emotions was not an easy task for him. "I didn't expect this to happen, and I don't…have…anything for this moment but…"
I furrowed my brow, waiting for him to continue.
"I don't want to ever be without you. I've lived that way for five years, and I don't think I could do it again. Stay. Not just in Britain, but here. With me. Forever."
My heart stopped. I thought I must be hallucinating, because this was not how this was playing out. "What do you…" I began to ask.
"Marry me, Hermione."
I buried my face in his chest as the tears began to flow and nodded. I didn't trust my voice. I kept nodding, until I felt his hand in my hair, stroking it soothingly.
"Thank you," he whispered; again, it sounded like a prayer.
—
"We should go down there. It's been hours. They have to be looking for us."
Severus and I had yet to leave the small bed on the top floor of the boathouse. The sun was just barely beginning to set, another day of reunion gone by.
"It's been an emotional day, Hermione. Nap first, then dinner. We will see everyone then." I nodded against his chest, closing my eyes.
"Severus?" I asked, seconds away from sleep.
"Mmm?"
"What about my program at Yale?"
He chuckled. "I have some connections at Oxford."
I laughed. So he did.