"Hermione! You're back! Um, hello Professor." Neville rose from a bench under the large wych elm that marked the Southern end of the Hogwarts summer gardens, smiling awkwardly as he saw Snape and his apprentice trudging back up the path from the apparition point.
Snape turned toward his apprentice. "I have some things to see to for our work on Monday. If I may have my bags, Gr - Hermione?" He cleared his throat awkwardly as he returned to the use of her given name.
"Oh, of course." She dug into her purse and began to pull out miniaturized bags. They'd stayed in Selfridges for another hour after tea. Snape had been as fascinated by the shoe department as she, which was a fact she found oddly disturbing. She thought he might have spent too much time around his godson. The man had bought four pair of black boots. She glanced at Neville and saw his eyes widen in appreciation as she pulled at least ten shrunken bags out of her tiny purse and handed them to her mentor.
Snape mumbled his thanks before tucking his bags into his shirt and jean pockets. "I need to prepare the lab for our work on Monday. I will see you at dinner tonight. Longbottom." He nodded to the dirt-covered man and continued his way up the path.
Hermione plopped down on Neville's recently vacated bench. "We bought out London today. I'm knackered."
"I'll say. How long were you at it?"
"What time is it? We left just after nine."
If possible, Neville's eyes became even more saucer-like. "You've been shopping in Muggle London for eight hours and Snape hasn't imploded?" He shot another glance at the disappearing back of the Potions Master. "Did you dose him with a calming draught first?"
She giggled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Nope. He was totally into it. Or as into it as you could ever imagine Professor Snape being. He was decidedly...companionable. We even had tea together and conversed. Like adults." She shook her head in bewilderment. "He's actually been quite conciliatory since I started my internship. It hasn't been bad at all."
"Well if anyone could get along with Snape, I suppose it'd be you." He shrugged.
"What d'you mean by that?"
"Ron actually said it the night before we left Grimmauld. You two are a lot alike, really. All books and studying and seriousness. And woe betide anyone who pisses either of you off." He flushed as he realized what he'd just said. " I mean, not that you're nasty like he is."
Her smile soured a bit at tht. "I can be, though. I still don't think Marietta has forgiven me for fifth year. Though the spots did clear up. Eventually."
Neville breathed out a half-laugh. "Right." He'd actually been thinking of Umbridge's sojourn with the centaurs. He'd hated the woman as much as anyone, but he still couldn't believe Hermione had actually given the woman up to the creatures. He shot a glance at his friend again. She is muggleborn. Maybe she didn't realize those myths about the centaurs were actually true. Hell, even wizards didn't always believe it. Dumbledore hired one as a teacher, for Merlin's sake! He'd already received some rather dire warnings from Pomona to avoid venturing too far into the forest unless Hagrid accompanied him. "Just be careful that you don't pick up all his bad habits, yeah? I'd hate for your students to say 'Granger' with as much fear as they say 'Snape.'"
Hermione was tempted to laugh it off until she saw that Neville was serious in his cautionary statement. "You have a point. Poke me if I start heading that way, yeah?"
His smile was genuine when he reached out to drape an arm over her shoulder. "Just don't hex me if I do!" He leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree and looked at the fading light through its leafy branches. "So you get any good loot when you and Snape were out today?"
"Did I ever! But this might be the best." She tugged down the left side of her denims and showed him her tattoo under its protective kitchen wrap.
Neville stared at her a full thirty seconds before asking, "What potion was I making the last time I blew up a cauldron?"
She blinked. "What? Amortentia. Why?"
"Just making sure you weren't some polyjuiced version of yourself. I can't believe you got a tattoo! Is that a plum branch?"
"Cherry. My parents have a cherry tree in their garden. The branches always shaded my window in the spring. Every Easter break I'd go home and it'd be blooming right outside my bedroom window. It's the scent of my childhood." She shrugged, realizing that her explanation was inadequate at best. Her tattoo summed up so much more than a nostalgic longing for a childhood that had ended far too early. It was a rebellion against her role as the rule maker, a temporary leave taking of responsibility, an edgy decision that few would ever know about. And it was pretty. It made her feel pretty. It was a mark - not that she didn't have enough of those already, thank you dear Bellatrix - but it was one she had chosen for herself and one she would wear with private pride.
Neville smiled a bit. "I like it," he said. " Prunus avium . Their symbolism is rather bittersweet; fragility and beauty in one. The ones we cultivate here are used in a few potions, I think. And Pomona prefers them as a tea base."
Hermione sighed. She knew Neville would understand. "I don't really want to advertise that I have it."
"Of course not. Not very professorial."
"Gods, could you imagine if I had gotten it someplace visible? Minerva would have conniptions." She giggled a bit at the thought.
"Minerva? Try Snape!"
"Professor Snape, Neville. And why would he care? He has a tattoo."
Neville made a little noise of distaste. "Yeah, but he kinda regretted that one, didn't he? At least yours won't burn on occasion and call you to the side of an insane overlord."
She grimaced. "Point taken." She rose and brushed off the seat of her pants. "Come on. Dinner's soon and you've got to scrape some of that mud off of you, yeah? I can tell I'm going to spend most of the rest of the night hauling my new goodies around the lab." She mentally rubbed her hands together at the prospect.
"You know, 'Mione, I think you're almost as excited about new equipment as you get about textbooks."
"Oh, Neville, you know me so well. If you weren't already taken I'd nab you in a minute. Ron's a lucky bloke."
"'Couse he is. Let's go in. I'm half-starved. Pomona had me digging Chinese Chomping Cabbages this afternoon. I swear half the dirt is from diving to get away from their mouths!"
Arm in arm, the laughing friends made their way into the castle.
✿HG/SS✿
When Hermione and Neville entered the Great Hall that evening, they saw that the table had a rather large bouquet of flowers at its center.
"Hermione, my dear!" Minerva said once they'd stepped into the hall. "We were wondering when you'd arrive. You never said you had an admirer!" The older woman practically burbled as Hermione sat down at the table.
Hermione groaned. She'd moving to Hogwarts would remove her from the reach of her mystery admirers. "Is there a card?" she asked with some trepidation.
Minerva merely plucked the small pink florist's envelope from the flowers and handed it to the younger woman.
"Wherever you are, I will always love you. You looked beautiful getting on the train, your hair flying in the wind. He will never be enough for you."
Hermione made a face and returned the note to its envelope. Minerva cleared her throat delicately. "Well, aren't you going to tell us who they're from?"
Hermione shot her a sidelong look. "From one of the nutters Rita Skeeter set on me after the fiasco at the Ministry Ball. As the only unspoken for female hero, I seem to have attracted the attention of some rather desperate and mildly unhinged wizards. And a few witches." She handed the card to Minerva. "This one is one of the most dedicated. He's convinced I'm dating Severus - thank you again, Rita - and believes that dear Master Snape is just not good enough for me." She caught Severus' eye over the blossoms on the table and shot him a sardonic glance that said you see what I have to deal with? " I'd rather hoped that moving to Hogwarts would mean the letters and flowers stopped. It seems I was wrong."
Snape spoke up then. "Has this - wizard? - made any threats against your person?"
"I don't know if these are from a wizard or a witch, but I'd guess the former. He's certainly a bit obsessed and his notes have gotten creepier in the last few weeks, but no. He hasn't made any threats."
"He mentioned seeing you at the station, Hermione." Minerva said it with some concern
"There was a crowd, Minerva." Neville said. "And it made the papers, thanks to Rita. I get some letters too, but not nearly as many as Hermione. It's creepy, how all these wizards are after her and they don't even know her."
"The price of celebrity," Severus said sardonically.
"Just so." Hermione said, ignoring his sarcasm. "I've been through this before. It always dies down. I should probably start filtering my mail. There have been a few howlers with screaming proclamations of undying love. Not the kind of thing I enjoy with my breakfast."
"I'll see to it, dear," Minerva said. "What would you like us to do with the floral gifts?"
"I suppose if the owls don't detect anything harmful you can distribute them among the professors. If this person , animal, mineral, or vegetable, has decided to resume his gift-giving, there will be a bouquet every day."
"Well that's very generous of you, my dear." Pomona chimed in. "Would you mind terribly if I took this bunch? The hydrangeas are sweet, but those white ones are Brazilian plume flowers. Rare and difficult to cultivate, but very useful in wizard pox poultices. I might be able to do something with these in the tropical greenhouse."
"Be my guest, Pomona." Hermione waved her hand at the flowers, indicating that the witch was welcome to them before splitting her roll to butter it.
Dinner passed without further mention of the flowers or their mysterious sender, but they remained on the table as a worrying reminder that, even at Hogwarts, Hermione couldn't escape her own "heroism." So much for the normality of starting my adult life , she thought to herself as she poked at her salad. To a certain extent she could understand why Harry had chafed under the attention that followed The Boy Who Lived everywhere he went. She mentally shrugged. At least I don't have a crazed megalomaniac trying to kill me or my friends.
Her thoughts turned instead to the work that she would be doing over the coming week. She had a large number of potions to brew, but if she kept six cauldrons going at once she should be able to finish inside of a week. She'd need a few hours to go through the stores and make sure all of the necessary components were in order, but she suspected that Snape had acquired all that she'd need far in advance of his return to Hogwarts that summer. She sighed. It was going to be rather a boring week in the laboratory.
She did have her private lessons with Minerva, Filius, and Pomona to look forward to, and by August she would be able to add Professors Vector, Sinistra, and Babbling to her growing list of private tutors. It was going to be a busy summer!
Perhaps she could convince Minerva to work with her on a few advanced Transfiguration techniques. While not officially a part of her apprenticeship curriculum, she'd been rather intrigued with human transfiguration. They'd only just brushed the basic theory in seventh year, but she thought she might convince Minerva to work with her on the side and perhaps even try her wand at animagus transformation. It might be worth it to ask
✿HG/SS✿
"Oh, my dear! I don't think we should add any more responsibilities to your plate just yet, do you? Hasn't Severus given you enough work already?" Minerva's eyes twinkled at Hermione over the tea service the next afternoon.
Hermione regarded the biscuit selection as if the decision between shortbread or Jaffa cake were the most important thing she'd do all day. "He's been very dutiful in that respect, Minerva. But I'm living in a castle with some of the greatest academic wizarding minds in Europe. I would be a fool not to take advantage of that!" She bit into her Jaffa cake with relish.
"I should have known you'd be asking for extra work before the week was out," Minerva said with an indulgent smile. "I'll make you a deal, Hermione. Come to me again after the winter holiday. If you feel you can add twice weekly lessons on human transfiguration to your plate after your first semester of teaching, then I'll take you on. I'll urge you to consider it carefully, though. Animagus transformation is not to be taken lightly, and once we begin training in earnest, you will have a difficult time of it. Many wizards and witches never master the skill, try as they might."
"I understand. And even if I'm only gaining a theoretical knowledge of advanced transfiguration, it will still be well worth it. Thank you for even considering it."
"Of course, my dear. No one will ever accuse you of allowing the grass to grow beneath your feet. Now tell me, how is your work with Severus going?"
"Well, we've barely begun! But it's going well, I think. He's certainly thought through the curriculum enough. I finished all the books he assigned - he just sniffed and handed me more! I'm swimming in potions theory, which is a lot more fun than I've just made it sound. And he was very receptive about some suggestions I made about technique in the lab. He's using some Muggle kitchen tools to prepare some of the ingredients now."
"Yes, Neville told me of your little excursion to London yesterday. I can hardly believe you convinced Severus to go." The older witch's eyes widened in mock astonishment.
Hermione laughed. "It was his idea! Honestly, the man is a champion shopper. No dithering or dawdling like some I could name." She fake coughed out the name Draco into her hand and sipped her tea with a smirk. "He just cuts a swath through the store and leaves a Snape-shaped hole in the wall and a handful of pounds on the counter. It's impressive."
"Hm. Perhaps you inspire him, dear."
"Perhaps," Hermione replied with a grin. "We spent quite a lot of time in the music store, actually. I had no idea he was a fan."
"Oh, he always was. He used to play Muggle records on a phonograph in his room when he was a student. Drove his head of house mad! Wretched stuff, it was. All the bands had the oddest names. Pink Lloyd and something about Deaf Leopards."
Hermione snickered. "I think you mean Pink Floyd and Def Leppard. I had no idea Severus liked rock. I'll have a bit of a collection of the older stuff myself. I'll have to see if we can compare notes."
"Now that's a conversation I'd like to see."
"You have a point. I can't really see him debating the merits of Led Zeppelin over Queen with me, can you? At least, not while sober."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Hermione, but I'll take your word for it!" the older witch laughed. "I'm just glad to hear that Severus has been treating you well. He's less anxious now that He Who Must Not Be Named is gone, but he did have a hard time of it for a few years. It's nice to see him able to pursue his interests without the proverbial sword of Damocles hanging over his head."
Hermione murmured her agreement into her teacup. "Though the Ministry has been rather annoying, I understand. They want the formula for the potion he concocted to use against Voldemort so they can make their own. He's refusing to give it to them."
"As well he should!" Minerva said with vehemence. "Not only is it his proprietary creation, it is also a dangerous thing to give the Ministry to use with impunity. I'm glad he's standing fast on that one. Be warned, my girl, they will try to get it through you."
"He's already intimated as much. It helps that I know nothing about it, so I have nothing to give them. Not that I would, of course!" Hermione added hastily.
"Of course. Now, as much as I've enjoyed our tea, I believe you have precious few hours of free time before we put you and Neville to work again tomorrow! Go out and enjoy some of the summer sun while it lasts. You'll be wintering down in those freezing dungeons soon enough!"
Hermione stood and surreptitiously brushed the crumbs from her skirt, then stepped forward to brush her lips against her former Head of House - and now friend's - cheek. "Thank you for the tea, Minerva. Can we do this again next week?"
"I'll be very upset if we don't."
✿HG/SS✿
It was nearing ten when Hermione knocked on the door to Snape's quarters that night. The door opened quickly, exposing a rather relaxed professor in sleep pants and a bathrobe. She bit her lip to contain the smirk at the tattered and unbelievably fuzzy slippers on his feet.
"Granger. What on earth are you doing here? Have you melted a cauldron already?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Hardly. I came to give you this. I've finished setting it up for you." She held out the Diskman he'd purchased in London the day before. "I'll need to show you the spell to use it, though."
His other eyebrow rose to the same height of the first, giving him an expression of almost startled delight. "Well, that was quick. Thank you." He took the little CD player from her and stepped away from the door. "Come in and take a seat."
Hermione looked around his rooms curiously as she stepped inside. She had thought they'd be of similar size and set-up as her own, but was surprised to find them larger and airier than her own small quarters. His sitting room was easily twice the size of hers and could have doubled as a side wing of the Hogwarts library. She had to remind herself to behave and not rush headlong toward the towering shelves of books.
"Please refrain from drooling on my collection, Hermione," Snape said with some humor in his voice.
That gave Hermione pause. She could not remember ever hearing that kind of warmth in her mentor's voice before. All these changes in his demeanor were confusing.
"Sorry. It's just wonderful." She made a little motion with her hands for lack of a more definite gesture. "How do you ever bring yourself to leave this room?"
"Easily," he smirked. "At regular intervals I have to go out and acquire more books."
"A compulsion I understand all too well," she said with a smile. "Right. The Diskman."
"Take a seat." He gestured toward the brocade settee - green, of course - just as the kettle began to shrill. "I was just making tea. Can I offer you a cup?"
"Thank you. That would be lovely." Her voice sounded stilted to even her ears. It was painfully obvious that she'd interrupted a nighttime ritual for her mentor. An open book lay on the footstool in front of an overstuffed leather armchair near the fire. An empty snifter sat on a small table. And he was clearly in his pyjamas. Could I have called at a more awkward time?
She glanced at the well-worn book on the footstool. "You're reading Pratchett?" she said incredulously.
"What was that?" he called from the back of the room.
She rose and followed the clinking sounds into his kitchen. She was shocked again to find the room was much larger than her own kitchenette. He had a full kitchen with an ancient looking Aga, pots on the ceiling, and what appeared to be an old-fashioned ice box. He looked vaguely embarrassed to see her observing him putting cups and saucers on a tray in a kitchen that obviously saw regular use.
The Nessie ladle was standing on the counter next to the stove, looking not at all out of place next to a tea towel with a monster on it, shark pot holders, and a turtle tea strainer.
"My goodness. That's quite the collection," she said for lack of something better.
The sneer came back full force. "Back to the sitting room with you, Granger. Or do you always snoop around people's homes when they've invited you in?"
"Sorry, sir." She scampered back to the settee and frowned into the fire. Pratchett and impractically novel kitchen implements did NOT match with her understanding of Professor Severus T. Snape, Potions Master extraordinaire. They made him all too human for her taste. The next thing you knew, she'd discover he secretly danced around his rooms when no one was looking. Or sang in the shower.
Impossible.
"I um, was just commenting that you were reading Pratchett. Are you a fan?" she asked nervously.
"Obviously." He picked up the copy of Mort and dog-eared his page (Hermione tried not to wince) before setting it aside. He handed her a cup of tea before taking a seat in his chair.
She sipped at the herbal blend before setting her cup aside. He regarded her balefully as he allowed his own cup to cool. "Right," she said to break the silence. "The Diskman. Um, I've modified it to run off magical power like mine. It runs on basic latin: incipio, desino, incito, recedo ." She matched her words to wand movements, jabbing, then flicking her wand up, down, right, and left. "The incantation to power it on is expergisce orchestra compressa ." She moved her wand fluidly in three connected, but alternating loops.
Snape glowered at her. "Did you just wave your wand in a treble clef?"
"Yes." She blushed. "It seemed appropriate and it worked, so hush. Not every spell needs a bloody matrix to work, and this one was relatively simple."
"Not that simple," he muttered. If it were that simple, every dormitory would be filled with music day and night. "Do me a favor and don't show this to the students when they return."
She blinked at him. "Of course not. None of us would ever sleep if I did that."
"Exactly my point." He rolled his eyes and looked at the little CD player. With a flick of his wand, he summoned one of the discs he'd purchased the day before. Sibelius' third symphony flew into his hand, and he quickly located the open mechanism for the device and slid the disc in.
Hermione watched as he raised his arm and sneeringly traced the treble clef in the air, then jabbed and flicked his wand upward. He must have been casting nonverbally, because the room was suddenly filled with the sound of strings and horns. Loud strings and horns.
"How do you turn down the volume?" Snape shouted over the din.
" Mollesco!" She spiraled her wand downward and Snape quickly replicated the movement. He, swirling his wand thrice rather than once. The volume lowered to a more reasonable level. "Sorry. I probably should've mentioned that one too."
"Yes," he said tersely. He stopped the music. "I assume resonus and an upward spiral will have the opposite effect?"
She nodded. "And quiesco orchestra compressa to disconnect the machine from your magic. You don't strictly need to do so if it isn't playing, but it does mean that the player will stop 'listening' for your command."
He raised his eyebrow again. Clever girl. "Thank you, Hermione. I appreciate your efforts in modifying the machine or my use."
"You're welcome, Severus." They sat in silence for awhile, listening to the symphony play throughout the room. Her professor certainly had eclectic tastes in music - jazz, classical, and, if Minerva was to be believed, classic rock. She watched him as she sipped her tea again, and found that the man was nearly good looking when he was relaxed.
Shaking her head of such a strange thought, she finished her tea in an inelegant series of gulps and rose. "I should return to my rooms. Thanks for the tea!"
Snape looked up in surprise. "Of course. It's rather late. Have a good night, Hermione." He rose to see her to the door, but she was already wrenching the door open as though the hounds of hell were on her heels.
Snape shook his head. Hermione Granger had always been the oddest of pupils. After casting a thorough muffliato charm on his walls and floor, Snape summoned another CD from the pile on his desk. He jabbed and flicked his wand again, then swirled it upward in a fluid motion, grinning as the "Hole in the Sky" echoed through his rooms.
AN: My wonderful beta got back to me and helped me with the latin bits. Folks, I really stink at latin. So I updated the chapter with the new spells. And cut some ellipses. No other changes.
