Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Chapter 10

Minerva McGonagall had many admirable qualities. Although no longer young, her mind was still sharp, and both her power and intellect had been enhanced by a lifetime of learning and accumulated wisdom. Additionally, she was a fierce ally and a formidable enemy. Chief among her attributes though, in Severus's opinion, was that she had about as much fondness for wasting time as he did. One the other hand, she could inconveniently perceptive, therefore he both expected and hoped that their weekly meeting would be brief.

'I think that's all we need to cover today; thank you, Severus.'

'You're welcome,' he said, as he rose to leave, 'but Filius has really kept things on track this week, despite being affected more than anyone by Miss Granger's absence.'

'I'm aware of that,' she glowered at the implication that anything in the school might have slipped her notice. 'But I'm also aware you've had other concerns,' she replied. He was suddenly wary – Minerva didn't do small talk.

'So,' she continued, a little too casually, 'do you know how Hermione is getting on?' Damn! Why had he mentioned Her; he carefully framed his reply.

'I assumed she would have contacted you with any news. Do you know when she plans to return?' He attempted to deflect the question .

'She has not given me a fixed idea of when she will be back. I wasn't asking how she was, I was asking if you knew how she was?' He couldn't discern from her expression what was behind the question.

'She contacted me, yes. She wanted to ensure that the research continued in her absence.' Minerva's face softened.

'Poor lass. After what's happened, she must be terrified she's going to lose her mother too.'

'It has certainly contributed to her sense of urgency,' he agreed.

'And how are you finding working with her?' Severus considered the question.

'She's very bright, and very driven; collaborating with her is consequently both a pleasure and a frustration.' He thought for a further moment. 'She's not used to working with others of her calibre, so she has an annoying habit of stating the obvious.'

Minerva tried to supress a smile, 'Well, it's gratifying to know that that your modesty is as undiminished as ever.'

He looked coolly at her. 'You both came to me about this, remember? Why do you ask?'

'Just exercising my duty of care for my staff, that's all. You were extremely solicitous the other day and she seems to trust you.'

'What exactly is your point, Minerva?' he grumbled.

'Just that my responsibility extends to you as well, Severus. It's not good to be alone or isolated. Don't be hasty in refusing friendship – the real thing doesn't come along nearly often enough.' She held his gaze for a moment, then turned to notes on her desk.

'Well, it's about time we all got on with it, don't you think? That will be all, thank you, Severus.' With that he found himself dismissed.

He thought about Hermione as he walked back to his office. They had spoken the previous evening. As she hadn't been able to attend her father's funeral, Molly and Arthur had suggested having a memorial service. While she had appreciated the suggestion, she had some reservations, and their desire to help was becoming a little overwhelming.

'It's a lovely thought, Severus, but it would be like a funeral for one of those poor souls where nobody claims the body. There isn't anyone who shares any memories of Dad. It would just be me remembering with a lot of spectators.'

'There's no rush,' he assured her. He was sitting beside a glowing fire in his favourite armchair, with a glass of wine in one hand and the pendant in the other.

'No, but people are all being so kind and I don't want to be ungrateful.' He assumed she was sitting in her bedroom at the Weasley's home, but having never been there he found it difficult to picture her.

'Hermione, it's not about them. All these things – rituals and rites of passage - we have them for a reason, but it needs to be fitting. Doing something that isn't appropriate for you, or your father, won't help. I think there is merit in doing something, but there really isn't a deadline for this. Take time to think about it; you'll get there.'

'I know, but…'

'Hermione, really, I can hear the anxiety in your voice. If they're getting too pushy, I can speak to them,' he offered. 'They are your friends; they will understand, I promise you.' He heard her take a deep, settling breath. 'One step at a time, okay?'

'Okay,' she agreed.

'So, tell me one thing that would help right now.'

'Actually,' she said, 'I am getting cabin fever. They're all lovely, but it's quite claustrophobic at times. I'm too used to being on my own, but I'm not ready to come back yet – I couldn't face the pity. I just need a few hours breathing space – a distraction – oh, I don't know.'

'Well,' he began, not sure about whether to proceed, 'I have something to take care of this weekend – do you want to come with me? I'll even buy you lunch,' he offered. She barely hesitated before replying.

'What time, will I meet you somewhere?'

'I'll come for you, at nine-thirty on Saturday? And if you don't feel up to it, we can cancel, and the instant you've had enough, we can just stop. There's no pressure; I won't be offended.'

'Nine-thirty it is. Thank you, Severus.'

Despite his assurances, Severus expected every minute that Hermione would cancel, but Friday passed with no word from her, and Saturday dawned, overcast but dry. After breakfast, he made his way to the apparation point beyond the school grounds, and arrived outside the gate of the Weasley's home. Hermione had obviously been watching for him and opened the door as he came through the gate.

'I'll be ready in five minutes. Come in,' she invited him. 'Arthur and Molly have gone shopping, so I have the place to myself.' She turned and went back inside and he followed after her. He could see what Hermione meant – there was a definite Weasleyness to the place – sort of hovering on the edge of chaos, but not quite falling over the edge. The paving slaps were mismatched, the steps crowned by an old cracked cauldron serving as a planter and filled with bright dahlias. Once inside, he negotiated an assault course of discarded broomsticks, shoes and bags. Yet the place was spotlessly clean, and filled with the touches that made it a home. As he joined Hermione in the living room, he noted the vase of flowers, the family photographs, backdated issues of Witch Weekly and Arthur's collection of Muggle bric-a-brac jostling with well-thumbed books on dark oak shelves.

'How are you bearing up?' he asked.

'Oh, alright I suppose. I'm just full of feelings I can't express; like there's a scream building inside me but when I open my mouth there's no sound. I desperately want to talk to my mum, but I can't. I think that's almost the hardest thing.' She turned to him. 'Is it worse to be alone, or to have someone who's completely out of reach?'

Good question, he thought.

'It's very early days; there isn't a fast way through it,' he said. 'I know that's not very comforting, but it's the truth.'

'It's okay. I think I've heard all the usual platitudes in the last few days anyway. I appreciate the candour,' she said. 'So how do you get through it?'

'It's probably different for everyone,' he said. 'For me it helped to know that others had survived grief. They were all around me, functioning, even thriving; people who had lost children, parents, spouses.' He shrugged. 'It wasn't much to hold on to, but it kept me from giving up.'

'Anyway, today was supposed to take my mind off things,' she said with an attempt at cheeriness. 'You didn't say where we were going so I assume that there's no particular dress code. Will I do?' She was dressed in Muggle jeans, and a soft woollen sweater, and her was tied back neatly. She looked tired, but managed a smile as he appraised her.

'You will do very well,' he replied. 'We're just going shopping and it will be nice to have company.'

'Are we going to Diagon Alley?' she looked slightly anxious, probably at the prospect of navigating crowds of people.

'No, no,' he assured her. 'Actually, it will be just the two of us, if that's alright.'

'Okay,' she said, 'so what are you shopping for?'

'A new home,' he said simply. She looked taken aback.

'Oh! What about the house at Spinner's End?'

'I sold it. Or almost - the sale will be finalised in the next week or so, and I'd hoped to have somewhere to spend the winter break other than Hogwarts.' It belatedly occurred to him that, having previously refused her request to visit his home, that this might be significant for her.

'I had no idea,' she said. 'Are you sure you want me along?'

'Have I ever struck you as someone who gave invitations that I didn't mean?' She smiled and shook her head.

'Well in that case, I just need to get my jacket.' She went to fetch it from the rack in the hall. Her voice drifted back to him. 'So what kind of house are you looking for?'

'Guess, he challenged her, suddenly curious to see how well she knew him.

'Oh, gosh. It's hard to know, when I've never really seen you live anywhere apart from the school, and that doesn't count. Let me think.' She pondered the question while she buttoned her jacket, and picked up a slightly battered satchel.

'It will be in a magical community somewhere – but on its edges. Somewhere you don't have to conceal that you're a wizard, but you want your own space too.' She looked to him for a sign that she was on the right track, and continued when he didn't respond.

'It'll be in its own grounds, detached. You'll need room for a study; that will be your haven. Will you want to work on potions too – or is that too much like term time? Anyway, you would need a still-room or similar, and storage for ingredients. Oh, and you will want to have some common ingredients to hand, so a garden would be useful.' She had more or less listed his criteria; he was impressed and he told her so.

'So, have you any idea where we're going?' he asked her.

'Hmm… well not Godric's Hollow – too many memories. Probably not Hogsmeade either – not enough distance from Hogwarts – full of students and staff all the time. Probably somewhere further south – better weather and a longer growing season for herbs. 'Wimbourne? Mould-on-the-Wold?'

He really was impressed. 'You've pretty much got it, I think. The first one is indeed in Wimbourne.'

'How are we getting there? Floo?'

'Port key.' Severus produced a tarnished, misshapen teaspoon from his pocket. 'It's set for three viewing appointments. It's just about time,' he said, checking the clock on the wall. She grasped the proffered spoon and a few seconds later they were transported to the front garden of an ivy-covered cottage constructed of warm red brick. The weather here was slightly warmer, and there was a light, fragrant breeze. Severus turned and looked across fields of barley, ripe for harvest, and saw the outline of the Minster. The property didn't appear to be overlooked by anyone.

The sound of the front door opening drew their attention and they turned to see a wizard of middle years, neat grey hair combed in a side parting. He wore pin-stripe robes, of the style that had been favoured by Cornelius Fudge, but obviously cheaper.

'Mr Snape, I presume,' he welcomed them, his hand outstretched towards Severus. After a brief handshake he turned to Hermione. 'And, eh, is this – Mrs Snape?' Severus saw the colour begin to rise in Hermione's face, and quickly intervened.

'No, this is my finance adviser.' Hermione looked at him in confusion. He winked at her, and he saw her turn away to hide her smile from the now flustered property agent.

'Oh, well, I see. I'm Reginald Snipe, and I'm…'

'I know,' Severus cut in. 'Can we move this along. I have several other properties to consider today.'

'Well, please follow me and I'll give you the tour.'

The property had some promise, although the rooms were a little smaller than ideal. The garden was terribly overgrown, but it had a southern exposure, and with some work it could be a real asset. Severus questioned Snipe closely, especially about any magical features, which might not be apparent at first glance, and then asked for some time to walk round unaccompanied by the agent.

'So what do you think?' he asked. Hermione's opinion mattered more than he had realised.

'It's nice – if you have half the number of books I suspect you do, it might be a little cramped. And I'm not sure how well ventilated that cellar is. She went to the window of the main downstairs room. It has a lovely prospect. I don't know – I have nothing to compare it with.'

'Well it's certainly less depressing than Spinner's End,' he said. 'It's funny, I've got to this age without ever having a place that I felt was truly mine – a real home. I'm looking forward to it.' He turned to smile at her, and found her watching him intently.

'You promised me coffee,' she said.

They discovered a little coffee shop in the market town of Wimbourne, and then found a quiet lane where they could use the portkey without being seen to make it to their next appointment. Mould-on-the-Wold was a pleasant village in the Cotswolds, but the property itself was disappointing. The accommodation was more spacious, but was squeezed between other properties in the lane, and overlooked by those further up the hill.

'It's a shame that you couldn't have this house, in the other setting,' Hermione noted later when they were sitting down to lunch. Hermione hadn't been hungry but ordered a bowl of soup to keep him happy and swirled it around in the bowl with her spoon.

'That would have been better. Anyway, there's still another to look at, and I'm not destitute – I can afford to wait until I find the one I want.'

They arrived for their third and last appointment at two o'clock, and Hermione gasped as she took in her surroundings.

'I thought we were looking at three properties, or have you decided to bring me back early?' she looked around and pointed eastward. 'The Weasleys live over there, but it's an easy walk.'

'Nothing went wrong. This is where the third house is, but I want you to note that it's as far away as possible from the Weasley's as it can be and still be in Ottery St Catchpole.' She laughed at his feeble attempt to distance himself from the boisterous family of redheads.

'So where is it?'

He turned her around by placing his hands on her shoulders. There was a wrought iron gate set in a limestone wall. They entered and followed the uneven path, which emerged from an avenue of rhododendrons to bisect an expanse of lawn leading to a lime washed, thatched cottage. There was no sign yet of the agent, so they walked around the back. There was a small paved area separating the cottage from well-tended beds and borders, and a row of fruit trees against the wall which enclosed the entire property. To one side, there was a small stone outhouse.

'Oh, Severus, it's just beautiful,' breathed Hermione.

'Mr Snape?'

A small, neat witch was standing near the back door. Severus nodded and she walked forward to shake his hand. Her manner was warm, but she exuded a sense of efficiency. She led them through the house, detailing its features, and leaving opportunity for questions in every room, before leaving them to stroll round the house and garden unaccompanied. As soon as they were alone, Hermione whirled round to face him.

'Severus, it's perfect!' She was clearly excited. He had to admit that he had a good feeling about it.

'It certainly fills a lot of my requirements,' he replied.

'Are you going to buy it?'

'I don't know; there's a lot of places on the market. It feels premature to decide without looking at more, but they're looking for a quick sale. I don't want to miss out on something because I hesitated too long.' Again, he thought. He couldn't deny that Hermione's reaction was heavily influencing him, and he couldn't help but imagine her at home here.

When they were done, he thanked the agent, and they wandered slowly back to the Weasleys'.

'Thank you, so much. I didn't expect to enjoy today, but I did. Is that awful of me?'

'Not at all – today was just a temporary distraction. The world doesn't stop when we have a broken heart. Even when we're hurting, but we still have to navigate life. We couldn't cope with unrelenting pain all the time. Trust me, you're not forgetting about your father – the grief will return soon enough. The wound will never disappear, but the pain won't always be so acute, and the world will always be a little bit different because he's not in it.'

'I know, I suppose. I think today let me just step outside it all for a while.' They had come back to the Weasleys' and stopped at the gate. 'When I step in there,' she pointed at the house, 'I'll be back in it all again.' Her mood was becoming sombre. 'I can't seem to move forward – I feel stuck.'

'I take it you still don't know what to do about their memorial suggestion.'

'I just want someone to talk to about my dad. Actually, someone to talk with. I'm so frightened that' I'll forget them. There's already details I can't recall. If I forget them, it will be as if they never existed, and there's no-one who can help me keep the memories fresh.' Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of George Weasley at the door.

'Hermione, you're back. Hello Severus.' 'Did you have a good day?' he asked her.

'Yes, thanks. I've been well looked after,' she turned her head to smile at Severus.

The young man came down the path and opened the gate, reaching for Hermione's hand. He pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned, resting her head on his chest and tucking her head under his chin. Severus felt murderous, but nodded to George.

'Mmm,' she groaned. 'That's nice.' She turned to Severus. 'Do you want to come in?' she asked.

'The kettle's already on,' said George, still with his arm proprietorially around Hermione's shoulder.

'No, I think I've taken up enough of your time today already. I have some work to catch up with before Monday.

'Hermione, let me know how you are, and if I can do anything.'

'I will. And let me know what you decide about – your purchase,' she smiled, but he saw the fatigue in her face. Suddenly he felt like an interloper, and just wanted to get away. He turned to George.

'Nice to see you again, George.' With a final nod to Hermione, he apparated back to the school.