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Chapter 4

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She had nowhere to go.

After packing up all her belongings, excepting the furniture and muggle books her parents had bought for her, Hermione apparated to a spot just outside of Hogsmeade and sat down on her trunk to have a good cry. Her mother had disowned her, Harry and Kingsley had betrayed her and she was going to be forced to marry a probable stranger in the near future. On top of it all, she had nowhere to go. The Burrow and 12 Grimmauld Place were out of the question. Harry's words had cut her deep and she didn't want to risk bumping into him or Ron just yet.

Ron… Hermione knew she had to contact him soon. In just under seventeen hours they would both receive an owl from the Ministry that would render their engagement null and void. At the very least she owed it to Ron to tell him herself. He'd be mad no matter what, but if he found out she'd known about it and not gone to see him… Hermione sighed. It would make their childhood battles look like innocent wand sparks.

An afternoon breeze cooled the small forest alcove Hermione was sitting in and she pulled her grey blazer out of her beaded bag. Slinging it over her shoulders, Hermione buried her hands in her pockets to stay warm as she worked out what she was going to do for the night. The fingers of her left hand brushed against something solid and Hermione wrinkled her nose. Slowly, she withdrew a book from her pocket. When did that get in there?

Running her fingers over the faded leather cover, Hermione felt rather than saw the once embossed title. It was unreadable, all but erased from the book by years of repeated study. She flipped the book open to the cover page and gasped when she read the title. A History of Cross-Discipline Magicks.

It was the book Snape borrowed from Professor Vector. The one he'd told the Arithmancy Mistress he had lost and would have to replace for her. There wasn't a doubt in Hermione's mind that her former Potion's professor had slipped the book into her pocket while they'd been waiting at Vector's door and made up a story to cover for why he no longer had it. But why?

Turning the page, Hermione ran her finger down the index out of habit. Introduction to Cross-Discipline Magicks, Charms: the Chameleon of Magick, The Art of Arithmancy, Potions: There's more to it than you think!, Transfiguration and its Tricky Uses… the list went on and on. There was even a chapter on how Divination could be used to discern the best place to harvest potions ingredients and an entire section–nearly half the book!–devoted to the suggested practice of combining Muggle sciences with potions and arithmancy. Hermione quickly flipped to that section and began reading, her eyebrows rising steadily as she lost herself to the ideas proposed within the text. Before she knew it, she'd accio'd a notebook from her bag and was scribbling down her own insights and ideas as she carefully flipped through the book, all thoughts of Snape and why he'd given it to her gone far, far away.

So involved in the book was she, that Hermione hardly recognized when afternoon turned to twilight. She was squinting at the small-printed words and rolling her shoulders every time she switched to take notes in the notebook, her handwriting growing larger and messier as the sun set. The once cool breeze turned bracing and Hermione's teeth chattered as she hunched further over the book, too preoccupied to remember to cast a warming charm.

She was just sucking on the end of her quill, pondering the potential of using chemistry to increase the efficacy of the Wolfsbane potion, when the book was plucked from her hands.

"Hey," she jumped up to confront the offender but immediately bent back over as her thighs cramped in protest. "Ah, ow… give that back, please."

A thin, ebony wand flicked in front of her face and the pain in her legs immediately disappeared. Her relieved "thank you" was cut short by the person who stole who book.

"If I had known you hadn't the sense to read the book indoors, Miss Granger, I wouldn't have loaned it to you."

"P-professor Snape?" Hermione gasped, standing straight and wincing only slightly as her back twinged in protest. How long had she been sitting there?

"In the flesh," he drawled, smirking slightly as he proffered the now-bookmarked and closed tome back to her. Hermione clutched it to her chest with one hand as he waved his wand and levitated her trunk behind him. She unconsciously fell into step with him as he headed back down the trail, conditioned to follow her former teacher from years of getting in trouble with Harry and Ron.

"Now," Snape said. "Can I presume by your luggage you have decided to take one of the offers up at Hogwarts?"

"Not exactly," Hermione mumbled, keeping her eyes on her shoes.

"Hmm?" Snape stopped and turned to face her.

Glancing up, Hermione found herself caught once again in Snape's too-dark gaze. One of his eyebrows was arched just-so and before she knew what she was thinking, Hermione found herself spilling her guts to him.

"I have nowhere to go. This morning I was ready to start making decisions about my life, ready to finally move on from simply recovering and start making a choice about… well, everything. Then Ronald proposed–he wants to make a family with me. Who says that? Who starts the rest of their future by asking someone to make a family with them? It's not that I don't want a family, mind, because I do, but seriously… I'm more than a broodmare. Not that I'm saying Missus Weasley isn't absolutely amazing, because she is, I just want more from life than a Quidditch team of children and a library of household spells.

"Then I show up at Hogwarts and get every apprenticeship offered to me except the one I actually want, followed up by Kings–grrr–The Minister and that sodding arsehole, Harry Potter–Merlin help his soul if I should see him before I get a chance to cool down!–Can you believe they think I'd be perfectly happy holed up in the Department of Mysteries? They think I'd thrive down there! Who can thrive in a world where you can't have friends or family or… or… or anything other than a job? N-not that I have a family anymore be… be… because my mother disowned me and now I have absolutely nowhere to go and t-tomorrow it won't matter that I haven't been able to decide what to do with my life because a m-marriage law is going into effect and, knowing my luck, I'll probably get stuck with some Pureblood prick like Malfoy who expects their wife to be as functional as a pretty statue!"

Hermione was breathing heavily by the time she ran out of things to say. Her finger was jabbed into Snape's chest, poked between two ebony buttons on that maddening frock coat. For a brief moment, she contemplated flicking one of them open. Just because. It would be good to see her ever-calm-and-collected former professor just a little bit mussed. But then she shook her head, came to her senses and realized that not only had she accosted Snape's person for the second time that day, but she'd also dumped all of the baggage that had accumulated through the day–the last decade, really–onto the poor man.

Chagrined, she curled her finger away from those buttons and slowly, slowly lifted her gaze.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, stepping back.

Snape caught her elbow, much like he had just that morning, and pursed his lips into a tight, thin line. He inhaled slowly and narrowed his eyes.

"What apprenticeship were you not offered?" he asked evenly.

Hermione blinked. "W-what?"

He blinked back. "You said you were offered every apprenticeship except the one you wanted. Which one is that?"

Thanking Merlin for the fading light of day that was hopefully hiding her blush, Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I-I was just venting."

That annoying eyebrow ticked upwards and Hermione swore Snape grinned at her. "Well, I assume Minerva offered you one, and Septima," he held up a hand and began ticking fingers off. "I already know Filius offered to duel anyone who refused him the right to offer you an apprenticeship. Pomona, Poppy, Hagrid–although we both know your forte isn't Care of Magical Creatures."

"Hey!"

He held one finger, his pointer, aloft in the air as if proving his point. "That just leaves–"

"You," Hermione gasped, mortified.

It took her several moments to realize the deep, rumbling sound emanating from her former professor was laughter. Mouth gaping open, Hermione was about to snap at him for making an already bad day worse when his hand convulsed on her elbow and his laughter dissolved into dark chuckles.

"I was going to say Aurora, but I can't see you staring at the stars for the rest of your days, can you?"

"No," Hermione agreed, shaking her head.

"Well then," he said, releasing her elbow and recasting his levitation spell on her trunk. "If you're going to consider a potion's apprenticeship, you'd better stay the night at the castle so you're up early enough to impress the resident Master with your brewing skills."

"What on earth will I brew tomorrow morning?" Hermione asked, feeling as though Snape was a thousand miles ahead of her in the conversation.

He grinned–definitely grinned–teeth flashing predatorily, and strode purposefully up the road towards Hogwarts. "Coffee, of course."

Thanks so much for reading! I'm really excited for this little story.

Blessings.