Chapter Three

He didn't know when he'd become such a trusted member of society. Maybe it started when his whole bloody past had been printed on the front page of the Daily Prophet for everyone and their mum to see. Maybe it was when he was exonerated of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, after spending months in Courtroom Ten, fighting for his freedom.

Maybe it was a year after he began his post as the Head of the Division of Research to Contain and Regulate the Dark Arts, when he'd published his research on a new shield that could block the Cruciatus Curse.

He still wasn't used to it.

Somewhere, somehow, in the last eight years since the end of the war, one of the most despised men in the Wizarding World was now respected and trusted, and he hadn't fully appreciated it until the Aurors were on their way to southern India in search of the origins of Deathfire.

While they were scrounging around in that overcrowded country, looking for any clues that could lead to the murderer of four wizards and one witch, Severus Snape was in Greece, heading for a very little known, underground establishment in the center of Athens, where only one witch resided.

He'd had to disassemble wards of stunning complexity before the wooden door materialized in thin air. He opened it, slamming it shut behind him as he made his way down a narrow stairway. Torches sprang to life as he trudged down the steps, their light wavering and unsteady. He muttered curses underneath his breath the entire way.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he reached the last step, but he was more than glad to be standing in a wide expanse of room at last instead of narrow passageway. The room had been carved out of earth underneath the city above, wooden panels magicked against the walls and doors to keep out the underground creepers. It was a large room, sparsely furnished but well lit.

In the corner, on a mound of fine, richly colored silk pillows, sat a witch. She had dark, mocha skin and waves of black, glossy hair. Her legs were crossed and her eyes were closed, but as his dragonhide boots echoes against the floorboards, her eyes opened to reveal slate grey irises.

She studied him for a moment, but he paid no mind. He was not here for a friendly chat, and had no interest in her opinion of him. Her emotionless expression slowly morphed into one of amused intrigue as a feral grin began to split her features.

"Severus Snape," she spoke in a rich, Hungarian accent. "It has been years since you last stepped through my door. The last time I heard your name, it was from a traveler who mentioned you had your throat torn out by a snake."

He felt his lip curl reflexively into a sneer.

"Velonica," he nearly spat out at her.

She laughed, a rich sound from the back of her throat. "My, my, Snape, you don't sound pleased to see me. After all we've been through, and you have such a tone towards me? What is your qualm?"

Reaching into his cloak, he retrieved a blue vial and tossed it to her. She caught it gracefully, holding it up in the air to let the light dance off the crystal. Then, she uncorked the vial and placed it against her nose, inhaling the contents with a big whiff.

Anyone else would have been chastised for inhaling the fumes of an unknown substance, but Snape knew better. She knew exactly what she was doing.

When she looked back up at him, her eyes were narrowed to slits. She slowly lifted herself off of the mound of pillows, her grin disappearing to be replaced by a look of suspicion. He reached for his wand reflexively as she glided over to where he stood, carefully studying his form. She circled him once, taking everything in with stony eyes, before stopping a few feet in front of him.

"Why have you brought this to me?" It was a deadly whisper.

"Five are dead as a result of that poison," he replied, fingering his wand in his robes.

"I do not sell this to any of my clients," the witch retorted, her once playful tone completely gone. "I have only disclosed the ingredients of this poison to a select few of my apprentices, all of whom are dead. Except you."

"I did not brew this." His voice was a low growl.

"Not even for your precious Dark Lord?"

"He was your precious Dark Lord as well, witch."

"Tsk, tsk. You speak to your Master this way?"

"You haven't been my Master for almost thirty years."

"Nevertheless, Snape, you are where you are now because of me."

Silence fell over the room as they both glared at each other. His knuckles were white from the grip he had on his wand.

"Are you an Auror, Snape?" she questioned, breaking the silence after several tense moments.

"No."

"Then why are you here instead of your Ministry's lapdogs?"

"I remember how you value your…privacy."

"My privacy?" The dark-skinned witch barked out a laugh that held no mirth. "Then what is she doing here?"

Velonica's eyes settled on something over his shoulder. His eyes widened, and he spun on his heel toward the entrance where a lone figure was standing. Something clenched in his gut as his eyes met those of the witch standing at the entrance, who was watching him with an expression of bewilderment, fear, and…hurt.

"Hermione…"


Three years ago

Hermione sighed softly in the lift that was lowering her down to the Atrium. It had been a long day. Three months ago, she'd been promoted to Head Unspeakable of the Division of Charms and Transfiguration Theory and Research after Helen Grouse retired to the countryside. Not only was she the youngest Head of any division in the Ministry, but she had also been promoted faster than anyone else in almost three centuries. Her determination and dedication to her work had been proven priceless as she'd made her way up in the ranks, and she'd been a natural choice for Grouse's position.

However, running a whole division was tiring. Her feet were aching despite the cushioning charms she'd placed on her boots, her hair looked frazzled from the latent magic clinging to her body from the charmwork she'd been demonstrating to her team that day, and all she wanted right now was a hot dinner and cold beer. That's why she was on her way to the Atrium to meet up with Harry. They were going to Grimmauld Place to pick up Ginny and go out for drinks.

She skimmed the piece of parchment in her hand one more time. It was a letter from Charlie. Since her visit to Romania, they corresponded through owl every other day. He told her about his research on the new Hungarian dragon he'd started training, and she wrote back about the life of a Head Unspeakable.

This Acid-Breather is a doozy, Hermione. If it weren't for the charm you taught me last year, I'm nearly positive all of us would be dead from the fumes that come out of its mouth. It's absolutely ghastly and downright fatal if you stick around too long. One whiff of the stuff and you're in a trance so deep you don't even realize he's about to chomp your head off! He's a git, this one. Nearly tore Wei's arm off the other day!

The lift stuttered to a stop at the Atrium floor, and she stepped out quickly, immediately searching for Harry while pocketing Charlie's letter. The area was crowded with witches and wizards on their way home after a long day of work, ready to return to their families. She frowned as she scanned all of the faces, walking slowly through the crowd to try and find her best friend.

A few minutes passed before she finally found him, her eyes landing on a mop of messy black hair. Harry was standing nearly halfway across the Atrium, dressed in his Auror's robes. She smiled, picking up the pace to make her way over to him. It wasn't until she was halfway there that she realized he was speaking to someone. She slowed down, and finally came to a halt in the middle of the crowded room when she realized who he was talking to.

Severus Snape stood across from Harry Potter, draped in solid black robes tailored specifically to his frame. His hair was the shortest she'd ever seen it, still in uneven tufts. She was beginning to think he cut it himself. What surprised her most was that the two wizards were speaking amicably with each other. She couldn't detect a single hint of rage or unpleasantness on either of their faces.

They looked like…friends, having a good chat.

Had she missed something?

She watched them talking, completely engrossed in the conversation she could not hear. Harry was talking now, gesturing with his hands as he told some kind of story. Snape was watching him and listening intently with a hint of interest on his face.

It still amazes me, she admitted to herself silently. Severus Snape was still alive. He was healthier than he'd ever been, Head Unspeakable of his own Division, and slowly becoming an icon in the Ministry. She'd heard whispers of his work on creating counter-curses for the Unforgivables. If he succeeded, he would once again become a hero to the Wizarding World.

It would be one year next week since he'd joined the Ministry in the Division of Research to Contain and Regulate the Dark Arts. Being a fellow Unspeakable, she'd expected to see him more often. That had not been the case. In the last year, she'd only seen him a couple of times down the hallways, making his way to places unknown. She'd attempted to catch up with him a couple of times in order to express her thanks for the umbrella, but she never managed to keep up.

Heat flooded her cheeks as memories of that rainy day one year ago flooded her thoughts. Her fingertips tingled.

At that exact moment, Snape's eyes darted from Harry and landed on her in an instant. Her breath hitched, and she was sure he could see her burning cheeks from where he stood. Her heartbeat began to race. Was he going to be mad that she was staring at him? She hadn't meant to stare, but she couldn't help how intriguing this new Snape was. How had he found her so quickly in the crowd? Was he…was he smirking at her?

She hadn't thought it was possible, but her cheeks flushed to an even deeper shade of crimson.

Harry seemed to notice that Snape was no longer paying attention and turned to see what he was looking at. Upon seeing Hermione, he waved at her and motioned for her to join them. It nearly took all of her willpower, but she managed to tear her eyes from Snape's bottomless depths and turned to smile at her best friend, rushing over to them. She was met with a warm hug from Harry.

"I've been waiting for you, Hermione," Harry said when he let her go. "Were you rushing? Your cheeks are a little pink."

"Yes!" She lied a little too quickly, and she could practically feel Snape's smirk burning into her back. "I was running a little late."

"No worries, you're here now. I was just talking to Severus here. We bumped into each other and started chatting."

Severus.

Harry Potter was referring to Snape by his first name.

She had definitely missed something.

Hermione finally turned to face Snape. She hadn't been in such close proximity to him since the day in the rain nearly a year ago. Now that he was finally within her grasp, she found that her tongue felt too heavy to speak.

"Miss Granger," he greeted when she said nothing. "It has been…a while."

His voice, was the first thing that came to the front of her mind. It was rough, not at all like the silky baritone from her school years. It was still deep, although significantly softer, and held absolutely no venom. Slowly, this was surprising her less and less. It seemed every time she showed up, he had a smirk on his lips.

He was a completely different person, and she was finding herself completely and utterly intrigued.

"Mr. Snape, it is good to see you," she managed to get out, smiling when she realized she could speak without stuttering in his presence. "How do you like it here at the Ministry?"

"It suits me well enough." He almost seemed amused. Could he tell she was nervous?

"That's good to hear." She smiled genuinely at him. "I've heard talk of your research around the office. Are you really working on counter-curses for the Unforgivables?"

"Actually, it's a shield for the Cruciatus curse."

"Amazing! A shield? How close are you to completing your research? Do you have the incantation down? Have you incorporated the Crystal Magnetic Theory into –" A hand on her shoulder cut her off, and she turned to see Harry looking at her with a broad smile.

"You're doing again, 'Mi," he chided playfully.

She glanced over at Snape and saw that he was smirking at her with a knowing look in his eyes.

"I…I'm sorry, Mr. Snape," she said with a tight smile, honestly disappointed she wouldn't be able to pick his brain about his research. She found it quite fascinating.

"Do not apologise. You can come by my office at any time if you would like answers to your questions."

She should have been surprised that he was actually agreeing to answer her questions, nevermind the fact he was also inviting her to his office. However, she was beginning to suspect that this was the new normal.

"I will definitely take you up on that offer." She didn't think her smile could get any bigger.

"Actually, Severus," Harry cut in, "you could join us this evening. Ginny, Hermione and I are going to the Three Broomsticks for some drinks, and it would be my pleasure if you'd join us."

Please say yes.

That was the first thing Hermione thought after Harry's proposal. She couldn't quite explain it, but something about the man standing before her was drawing her in. During her school years, she'd respected him to no end. Even during the last year of the war, when they'd all been on the run, she had racked her brain over and over again for signs of Snape's innocence. Everything about the entire situation had seemed off, and even though her trust in him had taken a severe blow, she'd never fully believed he was a traitor.

Now, five years after the war's end, she was looking into the eyes of a different man. From the limited amount of time she'd already spent in his presence, she'd already noticed the significant differences he displayed from the professor of her school days. He was practically amiable, but behind those bottomless depths, she could sense the strength of the spy that had protected them all those years ago.

Wait, when had he started staring at her so intensely like that?

She was frozen to the spot. Snape's eyes were locked on to hers. He looked as if he was searching for something from her, but she couldn't quite figure out what. Did he want her approval to join them? She smiled at him, nodding once, ever so slightly.

Snape smiled. It was faint, the corners of his lips barely quirking upward, but it was a smile.

"I think I will."

-x-

"You are nervous."

The atmosphere changed. A moment before, the pub had been so noisy she could barely hear her own thoughts as she waited for the round of drinks she'd just ordered. In an instant, the noise had faded to a soft, distant buzz as a nonverbal Muffliato was cast, followed by a faint Notice-Me-Not charm. She almost jumped at the sudden voice in her ear, but managed to keep her cool as she glanced across her shoulder to see Snape taking the barstool next to hers.

There was amusement in his tone, as well as curiosity.

She bit her lip, trying to formulate a response. She couldn't bloody well lie to the most talented Legilimens in Great Britain, now could she?

When she took too long to respond, his eyes glittered with mirth.

"I can practically see the cogs turning in your head, Miss Granger. The brightest witch of our age has been left speechless by a simple sentence? My, how the times have changed."

She frowned.

"Are you here to mock me, Mr. Snape?" They'd only been at the Three Broomsticks for half an hour, and hadn't shared many words. Harry, Snape, and herself had Apparated directly to Hogsmeade to meet Ginny. From there, Snape and Harry had been in deep conversation about Ministry matters and cooperation between both of their departments, while she caught up with Ginny about the children.

Two rounds later, it had been her turn to grab the drinks, so she'd made her way to the bar. Had he followed her to criticise her? To make fun of her? Had she been wrong about how much he'd changed since the end of the war?

If her confusion hadn't shown before, it definitely did when he chuckled.

"Of course not. I am only teasing you. You are very tense right now."

Teasing her…

He was teasing her.

Her cheeks grew warm, and she came to the conclusion that this man was going to be the death of her.

He was right, of course. She was nervous. This man, who she'd been so curious about for almost two years, was now directly in front of her and she had no idea what to say. She wanted to know more about him, and even though it seemed like he wasn't out to purposefully antagonize her, he still gave off a dark vibe. Severus Snape was no tame puppy, and she was sure of that.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"You are apologising unnecessarily once again. Also, drop the formalities. I am no longer your professor, and we are equals at the Ministry. You may call me Severus."

Had it been that easy for Harry?

Her cheeks were on fire now.

"Then you must call me Hermione." She offered a weak smile.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Hermione?" This time, there was no amusement in his tone, only curiosity.

"I…" Her eyes moved to the countertop.

"You avert your eyes. You cannot finish your sentences. You didn't seem this tense at the Ministry. What is different now?"

She worried her lower lip with her teeth once again, trying to find the right response.

"You…" She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Might as well come out with it.

She looked back up at him. The mirth had left his eyes, and he watched her with expectancy.

"You're here, sir – Severus." Her brow furrowed at her slip. "You're here, having a drink with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, the banes of your existence. You talk to Harry like he's an old friend, you offer to answer my questions as if you'd never called me an insufferable know-it-all in your entire life, and you…look so different. It's iall/i so different. The last time I was this close to you, I thought you were dead."

His face had become expressionless, and she wondered if he was Occluding. Had she upset him with her words? They were all true, though. This new perspective of the man was throwing her for a loop, and she didn't know how long it would take for her to get used it. She felt outrageously guilty, though. Hadn't she mentally screamed at him to join them for the evening?

"You and Harry Potter never were the banes of my existence. Harry is not an old friend, but in a distant future, he may well be. I offered to answer your questions because I value anyone who is truly interested in my research, and I am certainly not dead."

She flicked her eyes up back to his face, unclear on what he was trying to tell her.

The longest moment of her life passed before he slipped off the barstool. She thought he was going to leave after her outburst, but instead, he took a step closer to her. He began to roll up the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt until they were at his elbows. Then, with palms up, he displayed his bare forearms to her.

Her eyes immediately snapped to the faded scare of the Dark Mark, barely discernible against his pale skin.

"I used to be a man under a great deal of stress, fighting for times of peace like the one we have now. I had no reason to trust anyone, therefore I had no reason to like anyone. I kept my distances by using my sharp tongue to build borders, and if I hurt you in any way, I apologise. The Dark Lord is dead now, and I no longer have my burden to bear."

Something clicked, and she reached out and grabbed both of his exposed wrists, running her thumb over the faded Dark Mark. He was apologising for his actions during her school years. He was bearing his wrists to her to prove that he was no longer a Death Eater – he was a man who answered to no one.

He was his own person. A different man.

She felt so stupid for being nervous, and felt hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

He glanced at the hold she had on his wrists, lingering on her thumb absentmindedly skimming over his scar. When he looked back up at her, there was something different in his eyes. He seemed…content.

"I find that the people I ignored in previous years aren't as bad as I made them out to be," he finished, and his lips quirked up into a now familiar smirk.

A new beginning.

She smiled brightly at him, blinking back the tears that had threatened to spill and squeezing his wrists reassuringly.

"You have no need to be nervous," he murmured. "You'll find I'm much more approachable than I was six years ago."

She ran her thumb over his scar one last time, finally becoming aware of her actions and releasing him. Her cheeks burned fiercely, and she turned to face the bar once more. She was sure she heard him chuckle lightly next to her.

"I'm sorry I set your robes on fire in my first year," she blurted out after long moments passed. She feared she would faint from embarrassment, but he'd apologised to her, and she found herself needing to return the favor.

"I knew it was you." His eyes glinted with amusement. "Minerva owes me ten Galleons."

She turned her head to look at him. He hadn't sat back down, but was leaning casually against the bar, facing the opposite direction. He was looking right back at her.

She heard the sound of rain falling in the back of her mind.

"Thank you for your help with the rain…"

Just then, the sound of the pub came rushing back as the Muffliato was cancelled and four pints were slammed down on the counter in front of her. She wasn't sure if it had been her imagination, but as Severus turned around to grab two of the pints for her, she thought she heard him respond, "Thank you for not running away."