Chapter 10: Neither Wiser Nor Older

Severus wasn't a social creature by nature, but Arthur Weasley's birthday party presented an opportunity to gain intelligence that was too good to pass up. It would be his first social appearance, but he approached the event with the same ironclad determination that he'd brought to the most difficult tasks of his old life. Severus solicited expert advice from Draco. There was merit to the son's criticism that Lucius' taste suggested he'd run afoul of a gothic-seventies pimp uniform shop.

He'd taken a trip to the barber that morning, sacrificing a length of ebony hair. Draco was insistent that Severus get the cut, saying the long hair made him look like a "post-grunge pill head loser." The result was going to take some getting used to. It was still long enough that he could pull it back in a tie, but only just.

Draco forbid him black for the occasion, it not being a funeral or a wedding. Casual parties were difficult to dress for, more so than formal events. Jacket and tie affairs came with clear instructions, and did not require so much thought. With his godson's guidance, Severus chose a collared shirt in a pastel mint green, and over it he pulled on a charcoal vest. Draco instructed that he was to keep it buttoned and not remove it for anything.

The midnight wash jeans amused him, for they hugged his hips in what struck Severus as a fashion paradox. The denim fit him snugly as though it were tailored for him, and yet the rise was so low they still had to be held in place by a leather belt. He was fond of the belt's silver buckle; it was fashioned to look like a snake in a Celtic knot eating its tail. A rich emerald green tweed jacket went over the top and his good old black dragonhide boots were deemed acceptably 'vintage.'

After some thought, Draco selected black wool travelling robes for him, ones that Severus previously believed to be off limits due to the colour.

"Shall I fetch mice and a pumpkin?"

Laughing Draco shook his head. "Don't forget who's the Godfather in this relationship, Severus." Over a week's worth of constant erosion had worn Draco down enough that he was starting to call his Godfather by his first name.

"Right, well. Off I go. Looks like I'll be fashionably late." Severus cocked his head to the side, making no move to leave. "Is that still done?" He was dragging his boots, and he knew it. He wondered who would be there, regretting a dearth of inside information to go on beyond, "If they're a redhead, call them Weasley; should be easy enough."

There would be a fuss. He'd rather face certain doom at the hands of his enemies than a house full of people, especially emotional ones like the Weasleys. He was allowed to use Unforgivables if his life was in mortal peril.

Draco opened the door and steered Severus out of the house with a firm hand. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" was the parting shout.

Snape drawled, "That's quite the free license, Dad."

"Oi! Respect your fairy godson!" Draco shook a fist at Severus' back as he strode away, laughing.


Arthur Weasley was a man of simple tastes. He held one of the most influential positions in the Ministry of Magic, but he continued to cling to the patched together lived-in style of his lower class roots. It was with genuine pleasure that the Weasley patriarch greeted his guest at the door. "Severus! So glad you could make it." They shook hands with ease. "Please, come in."

Severus stood framed in the doorway, black robes hanging about him blocking the sun from entering the house. "Thank you, Arthur. Happy Birthday." From the couch, an elderly witch gasped, face blanching, as though she'd seen a ghost. In a way, Severus supposed she had.

The ambient noise in the room died down a notch as Snape stepped inside. Children stopped chasing each other to stare at the tall wizard cloaked in midnight looming in the doorway.

Arthur was oblivious to the shift in mood about him and continued with the usual social forms, "Let me take your coat."

Unhooking the clasp, Severus swung the heavy robes away from his shoulders. "I appreciate the invitation, Arthur."

"Would you like whiskey? Glass of wine?"

"Neither just yet, thank you. Where's Molly?" Severus glanced towards the kitchen, guessing it as the likeliest place for her to be found.

"She's entertaining the grandchildren, somewhere around here."

Severus had retained a hold on the package he'd brought with him: flat and most definitely book-shaped. It was wrapped in newsprint and tied off with green cord. "Many happy returns, sir."

"Oh, thank you! I guess I forgot to tell you that there's a strict no-present rule in effect for the event." Arthur accepted his present with evident delight. "I suppose I can overlook it this once. Shall I open it now, or later?"

"Whichever you like."

As Arthur ripped off the printed paper with a hoot of excitement someone stepped up to Snape's side.

A tremor of unease pierced Severus' inner calm as he recognized Neville Longbottom. The wizard had grown in height and confidence since Severus last saw him up at the castle, and his expression was too serious. "Hello, Professor Snape."

Headmaster was the proper title, but since Snape abandoned his position that day rather than risk a fight to the death with Minerva McGonagall, he'd forgo the correction. He hadn't wanted the cursed job in the first place.

Merlin, was Longbottom still afraid of him, after all of these years? Well, let's see if the snake-slayer can face his boggart. "Professor Longbottom!" For a fleeting moment Severus was afraid that Neville might refuse to shake hands.

But just like that, the ice broke. Severus clasped hands with a grinning Neville Longbottom.

"Well met, sir. You're a sight for sore eyes." Neville's gaze travelled down to his neck for an instant, drawn to the ragged pink scar that was part-way visible above his collar line.

"Is it excessively ghastly?" They released each other, and Severus ran a finger around the inside of the pale mint collar that did little to camouflage the blemish. "I could cast a glamour."

Leaping to reassure him, Neville flippered his hands. "Oh no, sir. This is the first time I've seen you, since the... Erm. Well." He looked around, perhaps expecting Granger to pop up and rescue him.

Taking pity, Severus helped the man out by simple expedient of changing the subject. "The memory you shared with me was enlightening. Thank you."

Neville's eyes shone with appreciation. "It was Hermione's idea. She's so thoughtful. When she asked I wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself. Really glad it was useful."

Granger's idea? Really. Severus probed further, hoping that he'd found the fount of knowledge he sought. "Are you two still quite close, then?"

"Oh, she comes around for a spot of tea a few times a year. I expect she'll be here later. She's been very busy lately, what with you and other projects she's been attending to. It is possible that she might not have time." He laughed, lowering his voice. "She usually brings work with her to these parties."

Seeking to steer the conversation back on track, Severus mused, "She always put a lot of effort into her little projects. Still writing twenty four inches when for every twelve assigned, I take it?"

Chuckling, Neville stepped backwards to let a red-haired pollywog pass. "The leopardess can't change her spots. Even now she takes care of all of us. Just yesterday she was telling me how she'd rescued a friend from a dangerous romantic entanglement."

Electrified fingers of shock traced down Severus' spine as the bit of information he'd hoped to catch leapt straight into his net. "What was her reason?"

Neville ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I believe there was a strong objection to the wizard. I've no idea of who, but she says during the war his whole family earned a bad reputation. I suppose if the bloke isn't in jail he must not be that bad. Maybe it was his track record with women that bothers her; she mentioned that he's divorced."

"If the witch likes this bloke, what was it to Granger?"

"It sounds like there wasn't much evidence of true affection on the wizard's part. She seemed to think he was only looking for a quick tumble, taking advantage of Luna's good nature."

There was no doubt now of whose affairs in which Granger was meddling. Before he could catch himself, Severus growled, "Take advantage of Mrs Scamander, exactly as Granger herself proceeded to do?"

"Luna's always been so giving, and when someone does something thoughtless, Luna turns it around on them, transforming the interaction into an intentional gift of goodwill on her part. Hermione's boasting about it tarnishes the shine of such a victory, but I don't mind telling you that she seemed quite sure of herself."

Exerting self control, Severus forced himself into the appearance of better humour than he felt, "Perhaps there wasn't much feeling on Mrs Scamander's side in this case."

"I doubt that. Luna's in love with everyone she meets. Hermione felt that she had to work quickly in order to keep Luna busy. You know Hermione, always so determined. I wasn't about to contradict her. I'm afraid Luna hasn't been herself even with such precautions." Neville shrugged.

Biting his tongue, Severus looked for some distractions of his own. "Arthur said something about wine. Is it in the kitchen?" On his way to hunt that glass down, he noticed his host seated in an armchair close to the fire, absorbed in the book he'd unwrapped: "How Things Work" by David McCauley. Like moths to a flame, several children had gathered close, eyes round as Arthur read aloud an explanation of just how it was that aeroplanes were able to fly without magic.


Molly Weasley was even more overbearing and opinionated than Severus remembered. After exchanging a round of bad ear-related puns with George, he'd mentioned that he'd recently purchased a home in Yorkshire situated near Upper Flagley. That was the invitation Molly needed to muscle her way into the conversation.

After George abandoned him in what might have been a speck of revenge, Severus suffered through a lengthy questioning on the state of the house, his plans for it, and the expected housekeeping arrangements. Nothing was below her interest, right down to the use of compost over manure in the autumn.

Helpless to escape the generosity of his hostess, he endured her rambling commentary. She'd lapsed into raptures over the grandeur of Ginny's situation in life and her perfect children. Harry was by all accounts an indulgent and attentive husband, although his work kept him away more than she liked. Mention of Harry's work as an Auror led to a suffusion of maternal pride for her son Ronald, who was a Senior Auror over Harry. She was quite certain that someday he would make Departmental Head.

Crooning in disappointment as only a Grandmother could manage she went on. And on. "I begged Ronald to come by today, but he is very busy. And then there's Hermione Granger. She's a Healer, did you know that? It was a disappointment for us that she and Ronald never managed to find one another - I blame her. Her studies were always more important, her career coming first. I doubt that she has ever really been in love."

Versed in the management of a Dark Lord caught up in the intensity of his own vision, Severus made the appropriate social noises so as to not suffer even greater tortures than he was now. "Is that so?"

"I am quite sure. She stopped dating a few years ago. Said that most of the wizards were just trying to use her for personal gain. She attracts journalists and opportunists like the boys did before they settled down. It is her own doing. She's so unapproachable. It's a real pity, because she'd be the making of the right wizard. She is pretty, although not in the classic mode. Thin ankles, you know."

Severus knew what it was like to be a living means to someone else's ends. A tool rather than a friend. Eventually tools break or outlive their usefulness. Was that why Hermione was so determined to know everything and be the best? A fear of being left behind?

Molly continued to natter on, "She is attracted to older men, I've noticed. Hermione might do for my second oldest, Charlie. He's handsome, always such a favourite with the witches. I long for him to settle down and move back home."

Wasn't Charlie Weasley gay? It cheered him to think that he knew something Molly Weasley didn't about one of her children, and the very idea of Granger marrying the last unattached homosexual Weasley was wonderfully pathetic. Aloud, he encouraged this line of reasoning. "Still taming dragons, is he? Granger would have a perpetually injured husband to use as practise, and Charlie'd not be able to stop her from bossing him about. Sounds perfect." He grimaced with the memory of the painful experience.

A mob of grubby Wee-sleys were gathering around them. "Gramma! Gran! Please, is there anything to do? We aren't allowed outside."

"Have you asked Granddad for a story?" Molly bent over to straighten one child's dress and wipe another's runny nose.

"It's his Birthday, Gramma. Mum says we're to leave him alone. She won't let us play hide and seek or tag inside or do crafts." The speaker was pouting at his grandmother, his little arms crossed over his chest. He was very fair, a prettier version of Draco at a similar age. Instead of grey, this child's eyes were violet.

Reaching out to pinch his pouty cheek, Molly smiled fondly at the boy. "Little Louis, always so thoughtful."

Seeing a way out of his predicament as repository for Molly's endless stream of self-important opinion, Severus leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire. "I could read to you all, if you like? What story do you fancy?"

Twenty minutes later, Severus was seated on a couch in the living room, away from the rest of the adults. He'd had to shuck his jacket and roll up his sleeves because the atmosphere had become quite close with children piled up like puppies on and about the sofa. He was reading from the classic, "Bartholomew and the Oobleck." Dr Seuss' story had enough plot beyond silly rhymes to charm even 13 year old Victoire Weasley, the older sister of little Louis.

His voice was increasingly hoarse, but he soldiered on. Internally he imagined his vocal chords respiring out their last in a noble speech, "It was a far far better..." As he turned the page, a shadow fell over the words and he looked up to find Healer Granger smiling down at him.

"Here Professor. This will have you singing like a linnet again in no time."

"Thank you, Healer Granger." He jockeyed the book into one hand, taking the offered handle of the mug in the other. As he breathed in the aromatic scent of spices, he found it difficult to look away from her.

Her regard was steady, and the softness in her eyes wore down the careful cloak of dislike he'd wrapped about him as protection against her charms. "Call me Hermione, sir. I am still off duty."

A small hand patted at his shoulder, a reminder that in spite of the dynamics of the situation, they were not alone. He lifted the mug in a silent salute and then directed his attention back to the book in his lap.

Fortified by the mulled wine, Severus finished his mission. The children paid him in awkward words of thanks, hugs, and a few grubby kisses that he hadn't the heart to refuse.

"You read very well. The children love you." Granger was still there, stubbornly hanging about like a burr on one's socks. She'd tucked herself into a chair across the room and had an open journal in her lap. She'd left her hair down and he found himself wondering how soft her curls might be. It was a shame they were attached to such a high-handed woman.

Annoyed with himself and intent on avoiding confrontation, Severus drained the last of the mulled wine, letting it warm his throat. "There are better storytellers."

Smoothing her skirt, she answered, "No one listening to you would find your timbre or diction wanting. I've never had the knack of entertaining little ones." A wistful, self deprecating smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"I am even less a babysitter than I am an elocutionist." He shifted with some discomfort, recalling that she was a child herself when he'd first met her. For him it was only what, 7 years ago?

She seemed to correctly guess the direction of his thoughts, for she commented, "You can't have forgotten how much trouble I was at school. I had a talent for getting in over my head, and Harry downright attracted trouble. Here I sit, living proof of your skill in keeping even the most difficult children safe. Even Neville survived in spite of his own efforts."

"I imagine, Miss Granger, that like everything else, if you took the trouble to practice, you would in time become an expert in any of your self identified weaknesses. Determination to succeed is your greatest strength." Did he just compliment her? He groaned inwardly. Well, perhaps she hadn't noticed.

Healer Granger didn't answer, but as he stood up to return the mug to the kitchen her eyes followed him. She fixed him with the attention that she usually reserved for a particularly complex problem, and it surprised him that as he passed her chair, she had yet to say anything. He could not guess what was on her mind.

Severus paused at the door, rolling his sleeves back down, and decided to use the opportunity. "What I want to know is if you also possess the wisdom to match your power. There are problems that even the great Healer Hermione Granger cannot remedy. What is more, there are problems that don't need fixing."

With that he pulled his jacket back on and stepped away, before he was tempted to tell her exactly what he thought of her deficiencies of character. He doubted she had any idea of just how much pain she'd caused in her fervour to save her friend from an unfortunate association.

No, he'd had more than enough of Granger's remedies. If he had his way, that mug of mulled wine would be the last time she interfered in his life, regardless of her intentions. He'd done what he'd meant to do. It was time to head out. He wanted some time to think alone before he spoke with Lucius, and so he headed to his new house in Upper Flagley - with no intention of following any of Molly's solicitous advice.


Severus threw off his cloak, waiting for the ringing in his ears to clear as he settled into the sterile peace of his empty parlour. The contrasting silence had a density to it, as though his ears were packed with cotton wool.

It was a relief to get away from that too close atmosphere. There was only so much of the Weasleys he could handle and he'd managed to suffer through three times what he expected was his limit.

Healer Granger's pleasant magnetism had him completely off balance. He wasn't used to hearing warm praise from anyone, and to hear it from her when he was still processing the extent of what she'd done to Lucius put him into an uncomfortable position.

Since that first day in his bathroom at Malfoy Cottage she'd thoroughly confused him. There were few traces of the overeager swot he'd taught. She'd grown into a lovely woman and it was refreshing to have a conversation over tea with a witch who'd had such an eclectic range of interests, for she was rich in experience and education. Still, she was off limits.

At his sickbed she'd declared that she would never look at him that way, a matter of Professional pride. That suited him: he was too disoriented to handle such attention, too vulnerable.

Toby's time with her had brought him to an alarming level of awareness of her grown-up charms.

When she'd quit as his Healer, that had stung, he would admit. Still, the revelation of the whole ugly business with Luna and Lucius revealed the true flaws in her character, cloaked in the outward appearance of virtue and competence.

Hermione Granger lost the last shreds of his trust when he saw the article in the paper. Granger's flagrant, willful misrepresentation of his own memories was absolutely unforgivable.

He fancied he was one of the few that recognized her failings for what they were. Healer Hermione Granger in her arrogance and conceit wielded a dangerous amount of influence under the banner of Good Intentions. He'd plenty of that with Dumbledore, and look how well it played out for him.

He would be well quit of Granger, and the sooner the better. Perhaps Lucius would be interested in escape. They could tour the continent, or perhaps explore someplace warmer and more exotic.

A knock at the door pulled him away from that pleasant occupation. He'd no servants of his own, so he was obliged to answer. Amusing how one became accustomed to help so easily. What would his father say if he knew his son craved the services of a butler?

When he pulled the door open, Miss Granger - for he no longer need call her Healer in his mind - pushed past him into the house. Rooted to the spot, he could only say her name with dismay. "Miss Granger."

The witch's agitation was obvious as she walked into the room, her eyes darting about as though she were looking for something and failing to find it, "Good evening to you, Professor Snape."

She'd not put on any outer robes and her dress clung to her, its thin floral print damp with the rain. Her back was to him, but he could see the comely figure that she'd kept hidden in Healer regalia. He'd already tasted a sample of her charms as Toby.

At a loss, Severus watched her in silence. There was a certain cruel pleasure in watching her struggle.

"This isn't what I'd envisioned, sir." She spun around and to his dismay, he found himself the subject of a remarkably tender gaze. Her eyes traveled over him, their warm honeyed brown resting on his hands, his lips, and at last meeting his own gaze.

He could not look away, consciously resisting a wild temptation to read her thoughts.

"I am out of my depth. I have researched the subject of love extensively over the years, and until recently I believed myself firmly encamped in rational opposition to popular notions of romantic attachment. You have turned my entire world upside down."

Gone was the cool and collected Healer. In her place was the passionate, bleeding heart of Hermione Granger, laid bare for his inspection. She was simultaneously alluring and ridiculous, dripping on the carpet a mere few feet away, her hands open, as though she meant to offer him herself as a gift.

"How does one begin to approach such a wizard, a legend, with expressions of adoration without sounding like a ill favoured heroine from a bad knock-off of the classics? Convention expects that I remain taciturn, modest, and retiring. My heart shuns such dissimulation, demanding instead that I tell you how very much I admire you."

Her fine-boned hand clenched in a fist, knuckles white with tension. "Spoken prose fails to fully express the height and weight of my feeling; in my mouth words lack the necessary depth. Poets use words with skill, but I have never practiced its application. Until you, I never thought I would want to make such speeches. I might throw myself into study immediately, but Luna thinks I should be myself. I believe you prefer honesty and happily that I have always tried to apply in abundance, for clarity."

Clearing his throat, Severus found his indignation overtaking his paralysis. He could end this by the simple expedient of asking her to leave. Morbid curiosity made him wait for her to explain herself more fully.

"My sense of decorum balked at coming here, unannounced and uninvited."

Shifting uncomfortably, Severus was reminded that they were alone together in the house.

"Indeed, I should not say anything of my feelings for you at all. I was your attending Healer and before that your student, although decades ago. Both relationships define specific expectations for interaction, boundaries if you will. I have struggled to stay within those socially defined parameters, but in this I have failed."

Severus hoped for a moment, when she closed her eyes, that her good sense would exert itself and stop this madness. She was acting so strangely that he wouldn't have been surprised if she was intoxicated.

She looked at him again, apparently having composed her thoughts, "My feelings for you have grown beyond sincere good wishes for your happiness and well deserved respect."

Taking a tentative step forwards, she continued to babble. "My own Amortentia, which I went through some trouble to revisit, is a combination of cut grass, spearmint toothpaste, and the smell of fresh parchment with dragon's blood ink."

The words that were coming out of her mouth were pure romantic drivel, but she seemed quite serious. There was no flushed heat of girlish desire in her cheeks or hint of jest about her eyes or the corners of her lips. The terrible hope that shone in her eyes moved him at last to put a stop to this.

"What does this have to do with me, Madam?" He was very still, afraid that if he moved that she'd latch onto him. He hoped that she'd perceive his discomfort, take the hint, and go away.

It was too much to ask. Undeterred, she stepped closer again, hands falling down to her sides. "This particular regard I hold for you is stronger than reason. I've fallen in love with you, Severus Snape, mind and magic, down to the ground."

Severus stared at the witch, aghast. This had to be a nightmare. In a minute, the alarm would go off and he could go do something less horrific, like show up late to teach potions, completely naked. But no, this nightmare was gripping, like living a disaster in slow motion, every painful detail highlighted and annotated by its author with references to be listed in Appendix B.

Taking his silence for an invitation to continue speaking, Granger paced back and forth in growing agitation. "Logically, I worked to convince myself that this is a bad idea. A relationship between Healer and patient is not ethical. I quit your case because I could not continue on in such an intimate nature harbouring these feelings in good conscience. Furthermore, you were my teacher. For me that was sixteen years ago, a lifetime away, so that not a convincing argument against such a liaison."

Real anger kindled within Severus. Did she think that he would actually welcome such an ouverture? 'I think I love you, but we have only enjoyed relationships that were defined by an imbalance of power, so it is wrong but let's give it a go?' No wonder she was still single. It was oddly flattering.

"The second obstacle is that my family won't be pleased with such a match. In time I am confident that they will appreciate your better qualities, and you have borne worse than the dislike of a pair of Muggle dentists."

She crossed her arms over her chest before she forged onwards. Classic Granger. Why not use three hundred words to express a thought instead of distilling it down to only the three most necessary?

"Thirdly, I have a reputation that I must maintain. Many people are going to object when it becomes public knowledge that I'm close, intimate even, with a former Death Eater. Such unrelenting prejudice infuriates me. You were exonerated, hell, I helped organise your defense ! The unfortunate fact remains that as a Healer in high standing, I could be subjected to censure for less. I risk losing everything I've worked for. It would take little more than an unsubstantiated accusation of insanity or suspicion of malign influence."

Any pleasure that he might have felt drained away as he became more and more offended. How was he to answer this ridiculous assertion of love? She was making it easier to refuse with every arrogant word that dripped from her lips.

"My research into the social conventions suggested that at the very least I should wait a few months before seeking you out, but I was afraid that something would happen, that'd you'd disappear and I'd have lost my chance." She lapsed into silence.

If only he had left tonight. Australia was nice this time of year. No, he was not going to retreat. He was no coward. This was his home, the foundation of a life he hoped to start anew.

She was looking back up at him, even though she was at least two feet away, she felt uncomfortably close. "Please. I think you're brilliant. You are everything in a wizard I never knew I wanted, neededin a partner in life. I think I'd be good for you too. Give me a chance?"

A tense silence stretched between them as Severus marshaled his thoughts. It was simple to compose a concise response. He wasted no poetry; he used words with the exacting economy of a butcher.

"I should be obliged to you for such lovely sentiments, but since you are so reluctant to give them I could never accept in good conscience. I do not return your love. I regret if my behavior at any time suggested otherwise, I would never lead you on in such a way. I expect that you will come to your senses and recover, in time."

"And is this your answer?" She sounded lost, her voice small.

"It is."

Gathering her wits, she turned and paced back and forth before inquiring, "I am categorically rejected, then? If so, I would like to hear your reasons."

Annoyed, Severus quipped, "I am sure that your superior intellect and list of clearly outlined logical rationale against this ill favoured liaison, as you have dubbed it, will offer you sufficient material to help you recover from the unaccustomed sensation of failure." He'd suffered disagreements with students over wrong answers on a test that felt much like this, he never yet yielded.

Too controlled, she asked, "Professor, have you fallen back into an uncivil mode of social interaction by reflex or design?" Did she jest?

"Miss Granger, you have expressed what I assume must be a confused passing fancy and framed it with a shoddily constructed insult. You have given me no reason to offer you courtesy in return. If that were not sufficient excuse for incivility, then I have others." He had not wanted to continue, but she goaded him to imprudence.

"And what might those be?" He saw her lower lip quiver, a sign of discomfort at last. It heartened him.

"Why would I oblige the witch who has stolen my oldest friend happiness? Do you deny that you have prevented Mrs Scamander from seeing Lucius Malfoy, in spite of an obvious attraction between the two?"

Granger was not ruffled by this accusation, "While Luna is enchanted with him, she is historically flighty. What is more, I observed Mr Malfoy most attentively, and I could not see that he treated her with any particular affection. It was a whirlwind affair, all fire and no fuel. In advising prudence, I have treated her tender heart with more care than I have afforded my own."

"So you admit that you interfered. Have you also intercepted Lucius' notes?"

"I did, and I have…." Hermione paused, composing her answer in discomfort, which pleased Severus. "I have collected all of Luna's correspondence, as she requested, and she will get them when she has time to attend to them. Some time apart would be good for them both."

"On what authority do you assume that your judgment of what is best for them is superior to their own? How dare you treat them like children!"

"Did you expect me to stand by and watch as she convinced herself that she was in love with the wizard who'd kept her locked in his basement as a child? She is going to get hurt. I can't ignore my entirely rational concern that a romantic association with Lucius Malfoy would turn my dear, trusting friend into a walking target. That makes her twice the victim."

Severus noted the symptoms of fear masquerading as cold reason. Her dilated pupils, the rising pitch of her voice, the stiffness of her spine. If he weren't quite so angry he might have retreated, but the last, most glaring point needed to be made. "Your interference in Lucius' affairs are not my only reason for wanting nothing to do with you. You contributed to that vile editorial besmirching Lily Potter's character. Have you an excuse for that too, Miss Granger?"

Angry, Hermione stepped forwards. "Lily Potter was a martyr, not a saint!"

Severus was shaking now, his blood boiling with the vitriol of unfettered malice. "Lily Potter was everything . She was ten times the witch you are!"

That insult hit home. Hermione flinched, as though struck with an arrow, and pain superseded the anger in her eyes. Did she withdraw? Of course not. She got in a blow of her own, worthy of any Gryffindor. "If that is the case, then why couldn't Lily find the smallest scrap of forgiveness in her perfect heart for you?"

Severus closed his eyes, controlling the urge to summon a terrible curse down on the infuriating witch, as well as a wilder impulse to end them both. Lily owed him nothing. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, even after placing his very soul on the altar in sacrifice to her memory.

Reaching deep to maintain a semblance of composure, Severus growled, "Miss Granger, you are not innocent of fault. Don't you dare judge her." He was no coward, so he opened his eyes once more, although it hurt to look.

Granger's eyes were red-rimmed with suppressed tears, and yet she'd brought this on herself. She had torn down any inhibitions demanded by the modicum of respect she'd earned from him for her minor part in his rescue. He'd faced down legions of weeping teenaged witches over the years and they repulsed him, but Granger's tears were different. They were ambrosia, feeding his ire.

Severus stepped closer, towering over Granger's petite form. Later he would pay for abusing his voice, for he'd lost his composure. He shouted, "You had no right! My private memories, which I gave Potter for the purpose of explaining his destiny, were not yours to reveal. You blackened Lily's reputation, knowing how I felt about her. Her son was your best friend! Is this the work of a supposed scion of good, the golden Princess of Gryffindor? Did calling into question the character of a dead woman satisfy your vanity? You aren't fit to lick Lily's boots."

Hermione's eyes were alive with emotion and no doubt well-organised rebuttals, and yet she managed to deliver her response with a controlled calm. "So, this is your true opinion of me. Thank you for your honesty. I had hoped this conversation would go differently. Perhaps it might have if I had not wounded your pride in my anxiety to be wholly honest." A flicker of defiance bled through into the last statement.

Oh, that was just the icing on the cake. Severus growled, "You have behaved in a high-handed and conceited manner with every turn, taking no consideration for the best interests of anyone but yourself. You have convinced me that you are the last witch I'd ever want to be associated with in any sort of intimate manner." There was a tug in his chest, akin to the sensation of a taut thread breaking. There was no going back now; even the most obtuse of people would understand.

Mouth hanging open in shock, Hermione stared back at him. It was too much to hope that she was rendered speechless, alas. After the echoes of his own words died out, she spoke in a colourless, soft tone. "I am left to be ashamed of what my own feelings have been. Forgive me, Professor, for taking up so much of your time. I bid you good evening."

Disarmed by her politeness, Severus watched silently as she placed her hand over her heart, bowed and then retreated from the house, and probably his life forever.

It didn't feel like a victory, but he told himself it was exactly what he wanted. Collapsing into a chair, Severus felt hollow, emptied out. He should feel glad to have such unpleasantness over with, but his inner turmoil was much more complex. How had he missed it? There must have been some sign. The Hermione Granger he knew was as subtle as Hagrid, for Merlin's sake. Or was she? She'd managed to hide things from him as a student.

Snatches of the disastrous conversation echoed in his ears, playing back like a painful series of clips left perpetually on random replay on Draco's iPad. The only remedy he knew that would make it stop was to drink himself into a stupor, just like his father before him. He wasn't proud of it, but the alcohol eventually took away that shame too.


He was still in a state of disheveled despondency when Lucius came to check on him the next day. He'd drank himself into oblivion, and was still pulling himself back together when Lucius handed him a sobering solution. "Drink this."

Severus stared at the phial, really not feeling ready to face reality. He was due for a bender. What right had Lucius bloody Malfoy to make any demands of him? "Fuck off."

"No. Now, either you drink this or I force it down your tender throat." Lucius' expression was grim, and even in this state Severus could tell he was not bluffing.

Growling, Severus took the potion and chugged it down. The blurry edges of his vision started to come into sharper focus and in three breaths his fog was gone, replaced by a blinding headache.

"Merlin's magical marbles, Lucius! Somebody had better be dying because I am not in the mood."

Lucius drawled, "No doubt. I take it that the party last night was not a grand success?"

Severus scrubbed at his eyes, trying to remember where he'd left his wand. "It was fine." He patted at the sleeve of his shirt, relieved to find his wand there in its holster.

"Then why was I rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn to play owl for Healer Granger?" The bastard stared down at him, not willing to play along with the lie.

With a heartfelt groan, Severus summoned a headache remedy.

Lucius' gloved hand intercepted the jar, plucking it out of the air before Severus had a chance to get near it. "Answer me."

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me." Lucius rattled the bottle in enticement.

"She quit as my Healer because she thinks herself in love." There, he'd said it aloud. He held out a hand and waggled his fingers. He doubly deserved those pills now.

Lucius was not shocked. Smug was a good word for it. As he was satisfied, he passed the bottle over. "I see. And your response?"

"I rejected her, naturally. She doesn't really know what she wants. It is merely a childish fantasy and she'd half talked herself out of it anyway." Using the last few drops of liquid from a tumbler he'd discarded last night, Severus swallowed two pills before moving to stand and look his old friend in the eye.

Lucius fanned a hand in front of his face, "I think I'm going to rummage for some breakfast. You need to go shower before the fumes coming off of you melt the glaze off of the windows. Salazar's tears, man. How are you even standing? Clear your head, because we need to talk."


Severus scowled at Lucius who sat waiting for him in the solarium, where there was entirely too much sunlight pouring in and not enough bacon.

"What is this?" He controlled his mouth before he said, 'shit.'

Lucius pointed to the empty chair next to him. "Sit. Eat first."

A bowl of some sort of gruel sat steaming, waiting for him. Poking at it with a spoon, Severus' first impression was that it wasn't wheat or oats. And there were bits in it. Tentatively, he blew on the spoon and took a small bite. It was the consistency of glue and had no flavour. It must be incredibly nourishing. He loathed it.

"You didn't answer. What is this?" He gestured to the bowl with the spoon.

"Amaranth."

"I'm not eating this."

"Severus. I am old enough to be your father, but you need not remind me of the fact so forcefully."

"Is this what you fed Draco?"

"For fuck's sake, Severus! Are you a wizard or not?! Transfigure your own Merlin-scorned porridge and get on with it. I swear on my Mother's grave if you don't I'll stun you, truss you up in scarlet ribbons and leave you somewhere Granger will find you."

"I'd like to see you try, old man."

Summoning the sugar and cream from the kitchen, Severus took some pleasure in guiding the two so that they flew close to Lucius' head on entering the room, missing by only a few inches.

Once the bowl was empty, he turned to see Lucius frowning at him as though he'd farted in the Queen's face. He wasn't about to ask what was on Lucius' mind. There was a thick envelope resting on the table next to Lucius' tea.

"What's that then?" Damn, Severus had cracked first. Score one for the old man. "You said Granger turned you into an owl. Let's see what she has to say."

His friend made no move to hand the letter over.

"Before I do, I feel it necessary to bring some things to your attention. I take no delight in any of this, but it appears that it has become necessary."

"First, you should know that without Potter and Granger, your trial would have likely ended completely differently. As you were dead at the time, officially, it was your reputation that was on the line. I understand that you've little use for the opinion of others, but in standing for your defense, those two preserved your legacy. Without them, you would have had nothing to come back to."

"Secondly, I don't think you fully understand how much Granger has done for you in the present. I can't take any credit for your rescue. Without her you would still be trapped and I none the wiser as to where you'd gone, as I'd been looking for you all these years. Dr Lundar was her contact, not mine. Granger took a sabbatical to rescue you and bring you back from the brink of death. She has worked countless hours, and you owe her your life at least three times over by my count."

Severus shrugged, "Well, that leaves me up at least one."

When Lucius looked at him in disbelief Severus counted the events out on his fingers, "Botched polyjuice potion, second year. Petrification, second year. Werewolf, third year. Department of Mysteries Battle, Dolohov nearly killed her. You were there for that one." He paused, frowning. "Why was she so intent on talking about Draco's role in my rescue?"

"She was concerned that you would be deeply unhappy with her involvement, I think."

Lifting the cup of tea to his lips, Severus processed this. "Hmm."

"That is my third point. She has been very careful of your privacy and guarded you nearly 24 hours a day on her own. Draco helped somewhat during the day, as have I, but she was there the entire time. That day you decided to announce your presence to the world, she was beside herself with the worry that you acted under the influence and would regret it later. When you could not do it for yourself, she tossed the Minister of Magic out on his ear."

"Fourth point. Healer Granger continues to hold me responsible for what that happened to her and her friends at Malfoy Manor. She doesn't trust me with reason. Luna was a prisoner in my home for months, Severus. She was still a minor. I made no effort to look out for her care and safety. Thank god for Narcissa. Hermione was also our prisoner, although for a much shorter time."

Severus was listening quietly. "I saw her scar."

"What you can't see is that Bellatrix tortured her for over an hour by Cruciatus, and under her knife. Bellatrix fancied herself an artist with that cursed blade. We stood by and watched Bella do it, and none of us dared to interfere. Hermione was catatonic by the time Bellatrix was done with her. She could still hear us, heard us squabbling over who would have the honour of summoning the Dark Lord. She'd protected Harry but could do nothing for herself."

"You've seen how she treats Draco? Twice the vinegar and half the honey that she has for everyone else, and it isn't because of their long history. She's forgiven him for that day, because he lied to protect Harry and she understands there was nothing he could have done to help her. On the other hand, she has always treated me with absolute courtesy but never crossed the line into familiarity."

"Ah ha! Too proud to gift you with her opinion. Sounds right." He was confident in his belief of her arrogance.

"She had a genuine right to call for my execution. Instead, she asked for leniency and given all that befell her and Luna in my home, I deserve no such consideration. In Liverpool my intimacy with Luna offended her greatly. Even so, she was the soul of discretion, treating the injury I'd done myself without embarrassing Luna. She has a vast capacity for compassion. I understand why you think her proud, but in damning her for arrogance you are letting your own prejudices cloud your judgment. You are guilty of the same crimes of which you damn her."

Severus stared at the letter, eyes unfocused. He had no idea of what to say to any of this. What was Lucius' point?

"This morning she admitted to me that she'd done everything in her power to separate us. She explained her reservations. She apologized." Lucius smiled ruefully, "Although threats on my person were made, should I break this fragile trust."

"And what say you?" He should feel good, that he'd accomplished something. He really didn't.

"After this I will be going to Luna. I plan to do everything in my power to erase any doubt of the depth of my love. My intention is to give her everything. Hermione's only request was that I give this letter to you to read first, and stay long enough to be certain that you were safe."

Anger rose in Severus, "As if anything Granger could say would put me in danger of that." He did have his pride, after all.

"You drank last night, Severus. You almost never drink that heavily. I'd say she isn't wrong about this."

His father had been an alcoholic, one who'd beaten his wife and son and spent the family's every penny on gin. The comparison stung. "I am not my father."

"I did not say you were. I said you were drunk. I leave it to your brilliant mind to examine it further."

Severus controlled his impulse to tell Lucius to fuck off. "Right. I guess I'd better start in. Where's my red ink?"

"You're kidding?"

"Never."


Professor Snape,

I have taken pains to ensure that you receive and read this letter, so do not bother with destructive magics. Unless you have access to the Sword of Gryffindor or fiendfyre, I very much doubt you will succeed.

Do not concern yourself for I have no intention of asking you to change your mind. I expect that the sooner we forget what happened last night, the happier we both shall be.

The matter that compelled me to produce this missive is simple. There are facts of which you have remained ignorant, and I must illustrate further so that you might understand more fully my character.

With regards to my treatment of Mr Malfoy and Luna Scamander, I may have grossly overstepped my duty as a friend. Mr Malfoy's manners towards Luna have indeed been quite pleasant, but never seemed to invite a deeper familiarity. You tell me otherwise. If you are correct, then I was wrong.

I wanted to be right and felt certain that I was doing Luna a service in separating them as soon as I perceived the danger. In failing to recognise Mr Malfoy's true feelings, I have indeed caused harm, and for that I have earned your censure.

I do, however, have reservations about them as a couple, ones that are both right and rational.

As you know, Luna was kept captive at Malfoy Manor for months as a political hostage. She was starved, weak, and barely herself when Harry and Ron came upon her in the dungeon. She was tasked to attend upon Mr Ollivander who was tortured within an inch of his life. The Malfoys never spared a thought for Luna's wellbeing or made any effort to help her. The formation of a romantic attachment seems unnatural.

In order to provide further context, it is necessary to mention my own experience with the Malfoys, although I expect it will offend you. I must be honest, and any further apology would be absurd.

When we were captured by Greyback, having fallen afoul of the Taboo, I was recognised almost immediately. I'd taken steps so that Harry was disfigured, but I'd not thought of myself, and underestimated the amount of exposure I'd received in the wake of the break in at the Ministry. Scabior and Greyback decided to take the lot of us straight to the seat of power, Malfoy Manor.

Draco pretended not to recognise Harry but could do nothing to shield me, and after Bellatrix saw the sword, she went mental. You have seen some of the souvenirs I retain from that afternoon, and I judge that your imagination possibly informed by experience will fill in the other gaps in this story adequately. Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy all stood and watched the proceedings. I shall never forget how Lucius rejoiced in catching Harry, and vied for the honour of summoning Lord Voldemort. If Dobby had not intervened, all would have been lost.

I digress.

Luna is the best of humanity. She retains purity and an innocent sense of wonder in spite of all she has seen. I have watched her have meaningful conversations with Giants, and persuade Grindylows to acts of kindness. Where others shy away, she rushes in to greet with an open heart. In short, I have seen her fall in love with a multitude of bizarre and monstrous beings.

She is a better person than I am, and I mistook her goodness for fallacy. Am I wrong to discourage my dear friend from entering into a serious romantic relationship with such a partner? He trails the spectres from the war I most wish to forget. Such a connection would blacken her reputation and lay her open to those who would seek revenge on the Malfoy family. Luna doesn't care what others think of her, but I have no wish to see her or her sons hurt, Professor.

What I observed when she was with Lucius alarmed me as I sensed that she was developing strong feelings for the wizard, ones that I could not imagine him capable of returning in equal measure. It is a failing of witches, that our minds jump from admiration to love, and from love to marriage faster than a Billiwig's sting.

When Luna left Liverpool she had every intention of returning to Hogsmeade, and Mr Malfoy's side. I contrived to distract her with duties and amusements, hoping that her fascination would fade.

In retrospect, I am ashamed that I went as far as diverting letters from Lucius, and made sure they would not cross paths in London.

I did openly express my own doubts about the wisdom of seeking out Mr Malfoy's companionship to her, for I did owe her that honesty. It was too easy to convince Luna that Lucius showed no sign of partiality to her on a deeper, more lasting level.

I believed this to be the truth. Lucius received Luna's affection as a starving man appreciates any scrap of bread, with a delighted indifference to its source or quality. The Malfoy family have been known to look out for their own interests, and Lucius would have much to gain politically through such a connection.

Draco had been quite unguarded in expressing his hope that his father might be able to produce another heir and take the pressure off him, as Draco isn't ready to settle down yet. I do wish Draco would have some sense - anyone might have heard him. He gossips and flirts too much, and gets intoxicated entirely too often.

Lucius has made strides in improving his reputation, but Draco's ill sense of timing and lack of propriety might materially damage that progress. Draco saves up his rudeness for me like a pensioner saves coupons in preparation for a grand feast, but I believe he is equally thoughtless with others.

The second, more serious charge you laid before me last night pertains to my part in the article published on Lily Evans Potter. Two years after the war was over, I was approached by an American who represented himself as a scholar documenting the history of The Order of the Phoenix. He came with good references and excellent credentials. He spent hours talking with me, and I'd been led to believe he'd already collected information from others within the Order.

History is decided by those who write the books and I'd hoped to influence him. It is particularly important to me that the accounts accurately report the hardships we suffered under the Anti-Muggleborn regime.

I also meant to clarify any confusion surrounding your actions during the war as you were not able to defend yourself. Even though the Wizengamot tried your case and declared you a hero above reproach, many were still entirely convinced that your performance as a Voldemort loyalist was too genuine. In my enthusiasm, I made a number of unguarded remarks. Alas, they have been brought to light at a particularly bad moment.

Lily Potter has been elevated to the status of legend, and you are correct - I possess no first hand knowledge of her. The quotes taken from that interview were out of context, yet the sentiment I tried to express remains true. Lily Potter was a wonderful woman and an amazing witch who sacrificed everything to protect her son from the most Evil wizard the world has ever known. Without her, we might well have lost.

Her failing was that she should have been a better friend to you.

A friend would make allowances for such an extreme provocation. One thoughtless word, one mistake was all it took to lose Lily forever. It was a tragedy.

If I'd never forgiven Ron or Harry for the hateful things they said to me, I don't think that we would have ever finished the tasks set out for us. I use my friendship with Ron and Harry as a yardstick, but do not mistake my meaning.

I am not in the same league as Harry's mother, nor do I expect that I would benefit from such a comparison. How could one ever measure up to the standard of such a figure? If asked to compete, I would lose before the rules were even set down.

Regardless, that fraud has been making a living off of the sensationalised works he sells to the papers, and in preparations for the Fifteenth Anniversary of the end of the war, The Daily Prophet has engaged him to write pieces on all of the figures of interest. Lily Potter's piece is a part of a series.

Yours was published on your birthday. I imagine that you could request a copy from the paper. I was not forewarned, nor did I give permission for my testimony or name to be used in such a manner.

I regret the pain that the article caused; my part in it was most unconsciously done.

If you are interested in another person's testimony on the subject of the liberties taken by the press, Harry would be happy to meet with you. He is unaware of the particulars of my involvement in your return and since you are so eager to be well quit of me, I implore you specifically not to mention my hand in the rescue. Neither my pride nor my vanity were on the line that day. I believe I only thought of you.

Please accept my best wishes for your future happiness and well being.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger.


Severus dropped the parchment on the table, feeling drained. It was too much to take in all at once.

"Well?"

He'd forgotten that Lucius was present and startled. "I have no idea of what to think."

Lucius stood, straightening his clothes. "Do I need to call Draco over?"

Severus made a face, "Please don't. I need to think. Alone."

"You will be alright?"

"I am perfectly fine. Healer Granger has said her peace. We are nothing more to one another than indifferent acquaintances."

Lucius stared at him in open disbelief. "Are you quite certain?"

Severus drew on his skill as an accomplished actor, pulling on a mask of composure for his friend's benefit. "Completely. Now, get out of my sight. I have other things to attend to. And if I'm not mistaken, so do you."

"Right." A smile that Severus hadn't seen in weeks lifted Lucius' face.

Love. So that's what it looked like. Severus had forgotten.


AN: Thanks to Havelocked, Coromandel, and ScarletDewDrops for beta help and to SnapeLove for alpha/emotional support.