One Ring to Bind Him

Sometimes Severus thought he'd suffocate with the weight of the manure shovelled his way after the end of the war. He was supposed to have been buried six feet under or inside the masonry of Azkaban, not get an offer to continue as Headmaster. There were even rumours of an Order of Merlin for him. He hated Harry Potter for that, for scrubbing away all the soot covering him from the war, shining him up. Almost as much as he hated Hermione Granger for going back for him in the Shrieking Shack and saving him.

When he entered the room her mother had shown him to, Hermione barely nodded at him from where she bent over a worktable, scoring patterns with a lattice into what looked like a sheet of clay. On a shelf beside the door were displayed rings, pendants and earrings, mostly in silver. Donning dragonhide gloves, she moved to a kiln and removed a tray with silver pendants and placed them on the counter next to it, then sat down at the worktable and began burnishing a ring.

He moved to her and looked closely, his eyes narrowing at the runes inscribed on the ring and murmured to himself, "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all …"

"… And in the darkness bind them. In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie," Hermione said, completing the quote. "I wouldn't have taken you for a Tolkien fan."

"I was raised among Muggles, Miss Granger. Don't take me for a Weasley."

"Never." Her lips quirked briefly, an expression that seemed to say, I'd give you a full smile, but I know you'd just scowl at me. He'd seen that expression often when recovering. "In any case," she said, "this is just a hobby of mine, jewellery-making, hardly anything danger—"

"On the contrary, Miss Granger, don't be dense. You're a witch." He crossed his arms and peered down on her. "If I gave your mother all the ingredients for Polyjuice, and directed her in every step, what would she get?"

"A bloody mess."

"Exactly so. Contrastingly, any craft done by a witch or wizard—knitting, weaving, metallurgy—has magical potential. You're playing with something dangerous by adding runes to these. Did you just think they'd make them pretty? Have you given any of these away?"

"Not yet. I suppose you came here to turn down my proposal."

"Oh, yes, your proposal to start a post-graduate course of study at Hogwarts. Want an opportunity to be a perpetual schoolgirl, do you?"

"Beauxbatons is starting such a programme—so is the Salem Institute. There's a need for a sort of university-level wizarding education. I don't think I'm being unreasonable—unless it's just any proposal from me you'd reject out of hand."

He tapped his lips with a finger. "I admit rejecting you has its allure. But actually you'll need to direct your proposal to Headmistress McGonagall—I don't intend to remain at Hogwarts. I'm just here to ask for my old Potions book back. The Brat-That-Lived-Twice told me you had recovered it from the Room of Requirement."

"Oh. Oh, all right." She went to a drawer and pulled out his book, then rose on tiptoe and took down one of the rings. "I made this with you in mind."

She put it into his palm, where the silver seemed to burn into him. Runes for health and long life were inscribed around the outside.

"Trying to curse me?"

She shook her head and curled his fingers around the ring, covering his hand with both of hers. "It wouldn't be such a curse, if you'd just …" Her hands tightened on his, as if wanting to impress her wishes on his flesh like the patterns on her clay. She stared at him, bit her lip, then shook her head slowly. "Oh, never mind, you're impossible. Where will you go?"

He meant to tell her as far away as he could get from the lot of them. He intended to hurl the ring across the room. Instead, he said softly, "I don't know." He disengaged his hand from hers. "I can't accept this."

"Won't. Harry wants—"

"I don't bloody care—"

"To know you better, the friend of his mother, and I want to know the man who grew from the boy—the absolutely brilliant boy—of that book. Please, don't disappear."

"You're playing with a very dangerous toy with this new hobby of yours, Miss Granger—"

"Hermione."

"Fortunately, I do have some books on artificing and magical metallurgy. Even one on runes and their effects on same …"

"I'd love to borrow them. And discuss them with you. Perhaps over lunch."

He looked at her a long moment, then put the ring on his finger. "Perhaps."

The smile she gave him made him feel … lighter.

lifeasanamazon - Prompt: Hermione, somewhat battered by her experiences, finds an unexpected talent in something practical - maybe something unusual like forging metal - and immerses herself in her work (with the full support of Harry and Ron). She makes something that catches Snape's eye. Is it worth giving up his customary truculence for? Can he learn how to make and keep a friend?