Yay! I'm finally back, and we are back on schedule. This chapter picks up right where Ch. 9 left off. As always, thanks to CMDRHill (JaneGlen) on AO3 for being my fearless beta

Hermione pulled out the Marauder's Map. Out of fairness, she did not always use the map on nights that she patrolled, but even so, most students obeyed curfew if they thought she would be walking about the corridors. Tonight, for whatever reason, everyone appeared to be in their rooms. She could see that Minerva was still in her office, which was not a particularly unusual sight even for the late hour. Severus was in the Potions lab adjacent to his classroom.

He was apparently as familiar with insomnia as herself. She frequently ran into him past midnight, and the other week they had stayed in the Potions lab into the early morning hours. Awake or not, it was doubtful he was looking for company. Regardless, Hermione decided to pay him a visit in the dungeons, where she found him to be hard at work and as charming as ever.

"The effect is wearing off," he said, barely glancing in her direction as he consulted his notebook. "Your sudden and uninvited appearance is barely rattling anymore."

"Good evening, Severus," Granger said, sitting atop of the table he was using. She sat a fair distance down from his work space and was unlikely to interfere. He gave her a long suffering look nonetheless before turning back to his book.

"I have to inform you that it is long past evening," he said as his eyes flicked across the surface of the page.

"So it is," she agreed. She seemed rather settled in her spot, leaning back on her hands.

"Was there something you required?" He asked irritably, moving to roll up his sleeves. As his hand fell to his left sleeve, he thought better of it. The Dark Mark on his arm had faded after Voldemort's defeat, but it still lay dark and ugly on his skin. Unsolicited companionship or not, Granger did not deserve to be confronted with something as repulsive as the mark. Besides, he would have to be insane to invite the condemnation from the witch, who was always rather free with her judgement of others. It was a trait they had in common.

He paused for a fraction of a second before continuing with his preparations.

"I have noticed that you have a peculiar habit of perching on surfaces that are not yours- a habit you seem to share with that orange menace," he said after a moment, reaching over to swat at her crossed legs with his book.

"His name is Crookshanks," Granger corrected. "I can move if I'm in your way."

He ignored her, making sure that Granger got the distinct impression that she was already in his way. Severus had no idea what had possessed her to seek him out in the middle of the night and on the weekend, no less, but he could assume that any lingering resentment she may have carried over his refusal of Occlumency lessons seemed to have dissipated. That is, if her incessant prattle was anything to go by.

"Is this a new research project?" She asked, peering over at the book, which he had left open on the table nearby.

"No, Granger," He said, wandlessly shutting the book before returning his attention to the papers and ingredients in front of him. "I'm not discussing this. Any queries or guesses or unrequested observations will be grounds for removal from your spot, am I clear?"

"It's my spot, then?" She teased, swinging her legs. His reticence to provide any information only seemed to intrigue her further, if her suddenly piercing gaze was any indication, but thankfully she heeded his words.

A moment later, Hermione caught him off guard yet again, "I wanted to thank you. You've helped me out quite a bit these last couple of months."

Now she had his attention. His brow furrowed as he looked at her. Her face shone with sincerity, but it wouldn't be the first time he had been on the wrong end of a joke.

"How so?" Severus inquired suspiciously.

She laughed. "Do you need a list of your own good deeds? I simply wanted to thank you."

He flushed, something that seemed to shock and please her in equal measures. Not wishing for either of them to dwell on it, he brought up something that had been on his mind.

"Care to explain the incident in the hallway today?" Severus asked mildly.

She stopped mid leg swing. "With the butter?"

"I was referring to Blackwell and Henry, our resident wrestlers. I assume the butter was uninvolved in the incident."

"Oh. Well, they were fighting when I arrived. Neither were willing to fess up to the cause of altercation." Granger shrugged. "I took points from both of their houses and started class."

"As I recall, you dropped a student on their face before threatening to take the maximum number of house points."

She blushed. "I didn't know that you were there," she said. "I didn't see you."

Of course she hadn't. He had heard the ruckus only in the last moments of the fight. By the time he had turned the final corner, Granger had her wand out and was giving a verbal lashing to the perpetrators. Not with the cool, vicious brutality that Severus would have, of course, but he could certainly appreciate her fierceness, as well as her flair for the dramatic. Something else they appeared to have in common.

"You seemed to have control over the situation," he gave her an assessing glance, "even if it was by slim margin."

"It certainly didn't feel like I had even that," she said, sighing. "I honestly don't know what to do with the students. I thought I was going to have a riot on my hands today."

"Should there be another riot in this school, your friends Mr. Longbottom and Miss Weasley would undoubtedly be involved in its genesis." Merlin knows that they had given him a fair share of headaches during his year as headmaster.

Granger still looked troubled. For someone so used to success, so accustomed to the idea of education being all important and all encompassing, the thought that some some students simply didn't care must be killing her.

"What did you expect, Granger? I told you from the first day that this was not the profession for you," he said.

Hermione was silent for a moment, head cocked. She was seriously considering his question, despite the manner in which he had asked it. "I suppose I didn't expect it to be this-"

"Futile?"

"Difficult," she said firmly. "I thought the hardest part of teaching would be teaching, but frankly it's everything else in combination that is most challenging. It's exhausting." She yawned.

Speaking of exhausting. He checked the time. It was well into the early hours of the morning, almost four.

"As much as I depend on your brilliant insights and constant presence to work, I'm sure I can manage for the next few hours on my own. Go rest, Granger."

Granger protested mildly, but she was clearly too exhausted to put up much of a fight. After she left, the room felt stiflingly silent, although their conversation had not been loud. He returned to brewing, but within the hour it was obvious that the potion would be fruitless. His patience withered with each passing minute, and he emptied his cauldron with perhaps more aggression than strictly necessary before he began cleaning up his station.

Severus added another page of notes to his book, underlining potential next steps. Today had been largely unsuccessful, but he would keep trying. He had known going into this that it would be a matter of trial and error, and certainly the most ambitious project he had ever attempted on his own. Finally, he tapped the book shut and warded it, so that no student or Granger could get into it when his back was turned.

Speaking of things Granger was getting into, Severus had little explanation as to why she showed any interest in him at all. Surely there were plenty of other people on which she could spend her time with. The ambiguity of the reason for her attention left him feeling rather suspicious of the whole thing. It would not be unlikely that Potter had asked her to keep an eye on him, nor would it be out of character for Granger to do so of her own volition.

Even so, it was unlikely that her motivation would make much of difference. He would simply carry on as he always did and keep his distance.

Severus was in a black mood. His coworkers, well acquainted with the increase in irritability and verbal lashings that occured close to Hallowe'en, had at least had the self-preservation to give him a wide berth. His students clearly lacked the common sense of their instructors and were penalized dearly for it. By late afternoon, all four houses had a drop of house points, and Poppy gave a firm suggestion that he take a walk.

"Get some fresh air. Clear your head," she said. Her deciding tone told him that it was not a point for discussion. He hadn't fought her on it, instead he had seized a basket and gone. He had been running low on moss anyways. It was one of the few plants that Pomona did not bother growing, but it was still rare for Severus to collect it himself. Usually, Hagrid was willing to collect ingredients from the Forbidden Forest, however Severus had likely hurt his feelings when he snapped at the half-giant over lunch. In fairness, Hagrid had nearly crushed Severus' foot when he went to sit down.

Severus muttered to himself as he stalked through the Forbidden Forest in the dark. While the sun had not quite set, the wide expanse of leaves overhead ensured that little of the fading sunlight filtered down to the forest floor.

A gnarled root, disguised under the shadows created by the light from Severus' wand curled around his leg as he stepped by it. He swore loudly, mostly on the off chance that whatever infernal tree was responsible would hear him.

By the time that Severus had retrieved the moss and started back towards the school, the sun had truly set, and the air was crisp and still. The moon, a perfect hemisphere, was bright. Severus muttered, "Nox."

He had just passed the Whomping Willow, which sat at the edge of the forest, when the shrubbery rustled behind him. Severus turned sharply, recasting lumos. The green-black leaves gleamed in the dim light, but not one appeared to move. Just as Severus was about to turn back around, two orange eyes appeared from the shadowy bushes. He took a cautious step back, and kept his wand lit.

Whatever animal was staring him, it didn't move. Severus, impatient, sent a probing spell into the foliage to push the creature out into the open. There was no movement. He didn't have all night to have a staring contest with some anonymous creature. He turned to go, but then he heard a very soft, "meow."

A cat?

A small black blur tumbled out of the leaves, headed straight at him.

He took another step back, unwilling to come in contact with an unfamiliar creature. As it came closer, he saw that it was indeed a cat. She was exceptionally small and matted, but appeared to be in reasonable health considering she had been wandering around the Forbidden Forest. A quick diagnostic charm verified this, as well as informed Severus that she was not an Animagus, nor under any sort of enchantment.

"Where did you come from?" He muttered, looking down out at her. He knelt down and offered his hand, which she obligingly ran her face and the side of her head over. He grimaced at the crusty grime, idly rubbing his fingers together at the displeasing feeling.

Severus stood up again, looking down at the cat, who gave a pitiful sneeze. He made a decision.

Turning on his heel, he called, "Come with me, cat." He continued on to Hogwarts, not checking to see if the cat was following him. By the time he was walking across the Viaduct Courtyard, he could hear the soft taps of paws trotting after him.

He heard another sneeze behind him.

The first thing to attend to when they reached the castle was her hygiene. With any luck, it would cure the sneezes.

Severus Snape did not suffer fools gladly. For this reason, he assumed that if he ever had a pet, it would be a sly, intelligent creature. As it so often seemed to happen for him, his assumptions about how his own life proved to be erroneous.

He watched from his armchair in resigned exasperation as the cat walked sniffed the saucer of food that the house elves had provided for her. She pawed at it experimentally. A piece stuck to her paw, and she panicked, scurrying around the room as though she could outrun it.

"You're supposed to eat it," he informed her as she passed by for the third time.

Her ears twitched and then without any warning, she pounced on his feet.

"More interested in a sock than in food, hmm?" He asked, pulling his socked foot out of her tiny teeth. "That shows a lack of self-regard that would be out of place everywhere but here."

Severus got up with a sigh and picked up the saucer of cat food. She padded over to him, winding around his legs.

"Now you want it?"

She meowed at him. Her large orange eyes seemed to have grown in size.

He stooped down and placed the saucer back on the floor.

Her tail flicked twice in annoyance.

He picked it up again and examined it. In every aspect, its appearance resembled cat food. Puzzled, he returned to his seat and set the food on the wide arm of his chair.

She immediately leapt into his lap and began eating at once. He felt a rare smile on his lips at the sight. Whether her preference had been born from stupidity or snobbery was anyone's guess. She begun to purr as his fingers combed through her recently cleaned fur. He felt idiotic. He should not be so pleased that a cat had chosen to eat her meal with him, but the feeling remained. It was not often that any living thing chose Severus' company. In that moment, both man and cat were satisfied.

It wasn't long before Minerva stopped by.

"I heard that you have a new familiar," she said, looking around the room expectantly.

He should have known. Minerva could sense a new cat within minutes. He was unsure whether this was a result of her abilities as an Animagus, or just her natural affinity for the animals.

The cat tentatively slid out from behind Severus' seat as though she could hear Minerva talking about her. He watched in disbelief as the cat almost shyly trotted up to Minerva, who immediately pulled her into her arms.

"Pleased to meet you," Minerva said seriously. She glanced up at Severus. "She's quite small, isn't she?"

"I thought she might be young. Still growing."

Minerva shook her head. "No, she's several years old at least. This is her full size."

They both looked at the cat, who yawned, sneezed, and then trotted back over to Severus.

"And she has certainly taken a liking to you. I hope you've started thinking of a name."

"Didn't she already tell you the name she calls herself? Or must I wait for it to come to me in a dream as she shreds my armchair to ribbons?" Severus asked sourly. He had not even decided if he was keeping her, and Minerva was ready to add the cat's name to the directory.

"Sarcasm suits you, Severus, but I'm afraid ignorance does not," Minerva said calmly. "You and I both know that she has found her home." She rose from her seat.

"Will you be present at the feast tomorrow evening?"

"It is … unlikely."

Minerva nodded, as though this only confirmed what she had already thought.

"Well then. Goodnight, Severus."

The Hallowe'en Feast marked the first holiday Hermione experienced as a teacher. The holiday also marked Hermione's first experience subbing for another instructor. Tonks had been called away handle something that she had brushed off as "Auror business," and Hermione was one of the few instructors with a free period during that time.

Hermione had never had the natural affinity for DADA that Harry had had, but she certainly had been more than proficient in the subject, and frankly it would also be a welcome distraction from Transfigurations. While a highly intelligent and worthwhile pursuit, there are only so many times the same introductory material can be taught without it becoming tedious.

In the spirit of the holiday, Hermione took a leaf from Remus Lupin's notebook and brought in a boggart. She had some apprehension about the exercise. After all, these students were not oblivious to the war that had been ongoing during their first year at school. Fortunately, the fears of the thirteen year olds in her class were not all that different from the fears she and her own classmates had had at the same age.

Spiders, snakes, dogs. One student had a fear of needles and nearly fainted when the boggart took the shape of a pair of long, sharp knitting needles. They clacked together as they moved in closer, points facing in his direction.

Shakily, he shouted, "Riddikulus!" The needles folded over each other like a large metallic pretzel, causing the students to laugh.

"I was worried Sleeping Beauty was going to pass out on us," a Slytherin said from the back. The rest of the boys in class hooted until Hermione stopped the demonstration to lecture on importance of respecting others fears and challenges. Once everyone looked properly admonished and bored, the demonstration continued with Morgan Rosier, who turned the boggart-as-lightning into fireworks.

The line of students dwindled as each one faced their greatest fear. Despite the everyone's nervousness, spirits were high, and the line moved fairly quickly up until it was Gemma McGuire's turn. Oliver Brisk called out his support from the back of the class where he waited with the rest of her friends. She trembled slightly as she stepped up in front of the boggart.

The second she did, the boggart collapsed on the floor, broken and bleeding. There wasn't time to see who exactly it was imitating, because it gave a pitious moan as it struggled to its feet. One look at Gemma made it clear that Hermione would have to intervene.

She stepped in between the student and the boggart, "Riddikulus!" She shouted. There was a sharp crack as the boggart dropped back to the floor, but not before it took a new form. Brown eyes, pert nose, bushy hair. The surprise on her face was mirrored on the boggart as it fell, mouth frozen in a surprised O. It hit the ground, its features now comical and entirely unfamiliar as a result of the banishing spell. With a sharp flick of her wand, the boggart returned to the trunk from whence it came.

Hermione turned around. The entire class stood in shock.

"Well," she said shakily, brushing her hands together. "That's that. Class dismissed."

Like her students, she was quick to leave the DADA classroom. Her Transfiguration class was scheduled shortly after, and she was hasty to leave the uncomfortable moment with the boggart. All the same, she took a few moments on her way down the corridor to collect herself and admire the decorations. The entire castle was remarkably festive, even for Hogwarts. Pumpkins were stacked around the halls and staircases, and the ghosts floated through classes without much thought to the disruption that they would inevitably cause.

Even ghosts weren't particularly fond of boggarts, so Hermione did not encounter any that day until her halfway through her Transfiguration lecture when Nearly Headless Nick made an appearance. His presence was punctuated by frequent and loud complaints about how the Headless Hunt continued to nitpick over a measly ½ inch, as well as stories of his days as a member of the royal court. Hermione tried not to roll her eyes at Nicholas's predictability. He tended to grow nostalgic around this time of year.

Hermione was already having difficulty keeping her students' attention. As it was Friday, and a holiday, they were particularly rambunctious. She might have been more forgiving if her Friday class was not her NEWT level class. As it stood, egging on Sir Nicholas and interrupting her with questions that they knew to be timewasters was unacceptable.

"Read chapters fourteen through eighteen," Hermione called as they stood up to leave. "I want a detailed essay on Human Transfiguration by next week."

The class groaned. "Don't you have just a little bit of sympathy, Professor?" Sage Kelleen said. "It's Hallowe'en! And Professor Snape already has us swamped!"

"You wouldn't have so much reading if you had paid attention in class, Miss Kelleen," Hermione said. "And if you have any complaints regarding the amount of work that Professor Snape assigns, I would suggest taking it up with him." The look she received was rather sullen, but nothing more was said to her. Hermione found that she had very little sympathy for the class. She had done more work as a student, and in fact, at Kelleen's age, she had been hunting for Horcruxes. They could handle an essay that wasn't due for a week anyway.

Septima had been right about reputation. Despite what Hermione's students' private opinions of her might be, they rarely said anything to her face, and with the exception of days like today, they were well behaved. As much as she might wish otherwise, she was well aware that their respect had come from evidence of her skill and not from any talent she had as a teacher.

While her students might have been restless throughout the day, Peeves was downright mischievous. He had begun to pick pumpkins up and lob them at students in the halls. By the time everyone had gathered in the Great Hall for the feast, orange pulp was splattered in corridors across the school and smeared across some of the students as well.

Minerva stood to give a brief speech before everyone tucked into their food was as magnificent as always, and the Great Hall was bright and warm. Several of the professors seemed rather jolly, but the whiff Hermione got of alcohol informed her that their moods might have been helped along. Tonks was notably absent, as was Severus, but everyone else seemed to be in attendance, even Lavender. Most of the ghosts were present as well. All in all, it was fairly typical Hallowe'en at Hogwarts.

Also in typical Hogwarts fashion, the unremarkable moment did not last long. It was not even an hour after the feast that Lavender and Hermione, heading back to their rooms, stumbled across an duel in the middle of a hallway.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hermione cried. All six students, including four first year Slytherins as well as a second and third year Gryffindors, froze. Wands pointed in every directions. "Put your wands away, and explain this at once."

There was some quiet grumbling, but they did as instructed.

"Consider house points to be deducted from both of your houses," Hermione said, irritably tapping her foot. "You should be ashamed, dueling on Hallowe'en," she added. Only about half of them looked properly shamefaced. "What were you thinking?"

"They weren't," Lavender commented dryly. "Brawling in the hall shows a great lack of foresight, something you will hopefully gain more of through your detentions next week," she gave a pointed stare to the group, who now truly shrank back in terror. Hermione felt both a little thrill at the successful teamwork between herself and Lavender, and pity for Lavender herself for evoking such obvious repulsion in her students.

Lavender's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor Brown," the Gryffindors muttered. The Slytherins were quick to follow suit. Hermione dismissed them all shortly thereafter, realizing that they were not going to be any more forthcoming towards the faculty about their disputes than she had been during her own time as a student.

"Something has to be done about this," Hermione said once she was sure that no students were in earshot. "It seems like there has been a fight every week."

"It will only be worse next week," Lavender said. "Quidditch season is about to start.

For once, Hermione worried that there might be some truth to Lavender's prophecy.