Chapter Two – There's No Place Like Home

Disclaimer: All the characters that you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling. All other characters are mine. This story is purely for fun, and I don't make any money off it. Unfortunately, the story isn't mine ether: this is in response to Wormey's 'Heir Challenge'. Go to her page if you want to read the requirements! Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

Hermione continued to live and work at the Leaky Cauldron for the few weeks that preceded the beginning of term. She existed in an almost dreamlike state, excelling at everything she did and enrapturing everyone she met. Tom was delighted with the change in her, even going so far as to offer her a raise. Hermione politely declined.

The day before she was to board the Hogwarts Express, Hermione took a daytime trip to Diagon Alley. The young witch spent a small fortune on potion ingredients, multicolored ink and quills, a large stack of parchment, an impressive pewter cauldron and, of course, enough books to fill a small library.

But as she lay there that night, staring at the full moon through the thin fabric of her curtain, an anxious knot began to tighten in her belly. What's wrong with me? she thought. I have all my equipment, my books. I've always excelled at anything that I've done. Hogwarts is like a second home to me. Why do I feel so nervous?

The answered followed just as quickly as the questions had.

Severus Snape.

Hermione hadn't seen the Potions Master since the day she had graduated from Hogwarts over two years before. For months following her rejection she was reclusive and antisocial, locking herself in her room and burying herself in her studies to avoid pining over the dark wizard. It was as if she'd been slapped by the Dark Lord himself when she looked around herself one day, at the world that had been passing her by as she mourned her unrequited love. Everyone had a career, a family, a life. All of her closest friends, who had long since given up on her, had made the best of their years at Hogwarts and become invaluable to the wizarding society. She was the witch with the highest expectations attached to her name, and she had become nothing. She was a disgrace. And it was all his fault.

Unwilling to allow the memory of a man she once loved to continue to dominate her life, Hermione pushed the Potions Master from her mind and emerged into the world, a painted butterfly breaking free from its prison. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never fully commit herself to anything equal to her level of talent and skill. For the next year and a half, the most sought-after witch of her time worked a string of low-income jobs, making barely enough to sustain her lifestyle.

But I don't love him anymore.

Hermione's stomach clenched tightly as the thought appeared in her mind. Of course she didn't love him anymore. It had been two years. There was no room in her heart for the man who had no room in his bed. She had barely spared a thought for the man in the past year and a half. He had been buried deep down in her psyche long ago, too deep to ever emerge.

But how would she explain the reason why she longed to go back to Hogwarts? Why she had accepted no lovers, never had a boyfriend … remained a virgin? Truthfully, Hermione didn't know how she would react to the Professor, or how he would react to her.

He had his chance, Hermione thought angrily. If he wanted me, he should have taken me when I was willing.

Satisfied, Hermione rolled onto her side and closed her eyed. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't dislodge the thought of the Potions Master from her mind.

.x.

The following day, Hermione was to board the Hogwarts Express. Most of the teachers had already arrived, but Dumbledore had permitted Hermione to arrange her affairs before beginning her job. Later that afternoon, she boarded the train after having bade Tom a tearful farewell. He watched her load her trunks into the muggle taxi and grinned inwardly. There was so much more Hermione Granger could do working at Hogwarts than waitressing in some backwater pub.

The journey there was hardly eventful, with the exception of a few minor disturbances. To Hermione's delight, both Professors McGonagall and Sprout were also aboard the scarlet steam engine, though they didn't get much time to catch up before the students began to cause trouble. Somehow, a group of second year wizards had managed to transfigure their Chocolate Frogs into living frogs (a feat for which Professor McGonagall was proud), which kept rallying together to try and kidnap the rest of the Chocolate Frogs from the trolley cart. Not once did Hermione think of Professor Snape.

When they arrived at Hogwarts a little after dusk, Hermione wanted to take her trunks straight to her rooms and set up, but an eager house elf insisted that she instead attend the beginning of term feast. Hermione had nearly burst into tears when she saw the tiny creature attempting to lug her trunks down into the dungeons. She cast a quick floating charm on them before skipping off to dinner.

Dinner wasn't much different from the usual feast, with the students being sorted into their houses and the singing of the school's anthem. She did, however, take an appreciative note of the height difference. She was so accustomed to sitting at the Gryffindor table, chatting contentedly about Quidditch and timetables. Now, she was sitting here among her professors—no, colleagues, she had to remind herself—trying to pretend she fit in, and had been teaching there for years. The mysterious absence of the Potions Master made the adjustment far more easy than she had pictured it.

After Dumbledore had turned the yawning and contended students in for the evening, Hermione wished the other professors a friendly 'good night' before heading down to her own room, which was conspicuously located in the dungeons. She was pleased (and a little distressed) to see that all of her things had been put away for her.

Hermione paced around the room slowly, touching the stone walls for texture and pausing every now and then to listen for any sign of a draft. After a few moments, she noticed a second door, which seemed rather out of place for private quarters. Deftly, she entered this second room and was a bit surprised to find that it was, in fact, a laboratory. Bookshelves lined one side of the wall and ingredients, the other. Her cauldron had been placed in the center of the room's only table like a decorative vase. There were four working counters, two on each side of the table, which separated the shelves from the main working area. Hermione shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth. The dungeons really were drafty. The rumors were true.

The witch turned and was about to leave when she spied a second door, opposite from the one that led to her room. Curious, she pushed it open and stuck her head around the door to examine its contents.

Oh, my God.

There, clad in nothing but a pair of boxers, stood her former Potions professor. He didn't seem to notice her as she watched him move about his room, cleaning and organizing stacks of parchments and bundles of quills to ready himself for the beginning of term. He growled deeply and Hermione watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, the muscles across his abdomen tightening as he contemplated to what extent his labs would be damaged by foolish first years. Her eyes remained locked on his chest, lean and toned from years of physical labor, tracing the path between his pectoral muscles. They followed the clearly defined path all the way down his abdomen where his pelvis engraved the telltale 'vee' to that sacred place between his legs. Hermione gulped.

In that vulnerable moment he looked up and saw her standing there, blushing furiously and looking as if she might faint. His dark eyes widened in surprised by remained unreadable. He strode towards her and placed his hand on the door, staring down at her from an impossible height.

"Err—professor—" she stammered.

"And I expect, Miss Granger, that you have a perfectly plausible excuse for breaking into my private quarters after hours."

Hermione flushed indignantly. "I'm not a student here anymore, Professor Snape! I—I was just coming to introduce myself—"

"I believe I have already had the misfortune of being graced with the knowledge of your existence," he responded tonelessly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I wish to be left alone."

Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut and Hermione could hear him placing wards on the room. Angrily, she stomped back to her room and made sure to slam the door – hard.

She stood there for a moment, silent, still, her heart racing in her chest as anger stacked up inside of her. The witch let out a small shriek of frustration before removing her clothing rather violently and tossing it into a messy pile in the corner, climbing into her four-poster bed.

"There's no place like home," she grumbled angrily.

There you go, everyone! The story's starting to get under way now. How'd you like that sexy Severus? Rawr. Very rawr. Please view!