A Child at the Door

by Poetsfall

Professor Severus Snape is living his life as Potions Master and Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. He is considered a hero by Wizarding Britain. While at a forced holiday in his home in Spinner's End his life takes a drastic turn when a letter arrives from a past lover with an unexpected messenger

13. Dumbledore's Spy's Caretaker

Chapter 13 -Dumbledore's Spy's Caretaker

It had been a particularly hard lesson to learn. To trust a Gryffindor was not something Severus was prone to do, especially after everything that had happened. But she wore on him down.

It began with small things like cleaning his quarters that hadn't been seen by a house elf for more years than he cared to count. She would brew some of the potions required for the infirmary and they were of the best quality, just like his potions. He would never see her do these things and she took care to not move anything from its place, so the only difference he saw was the dust was gone from his books, but the books were by molecule on the exact same spot. She had become good at the household charms, he would give her that.

There would always be a fresh plate of food waiting for him and a two fingers of firewhiskey. With them there would be the required potions for his pains. She had even developed a muscle relaxant potion that helped to battle the after effects of the Cruciatus curse for which he was silently grateful.

He had for many years thought of her as a know-it-all fact spouter, but it seemed she was that mostly in class and amongst her friends. With him she was silent and waited patiently until she deemed it appropriate to ask his report. Her presence was never overbearing and she was not as innocent or naive as he had thought.

At first he had railed at her about cleaning, moving his things, using his potions' ingredients, but every argument he came up with, he had to counter, all though he didn't admit it to her, for he found them untrue. She used the school supplies and as stated earlier she was careful to keep his things at their exact locations.

Every time he had yelled at her, she had flinched away from him, but calmly met his eye and said:

"Yes, sir."

Or

"Yes, professor."

It was, he found one day, more annoying than the schoolgirl Miss Granger. He could not stand this new, adult version of the very same bucktoothed girl which she also infuriatingly wasn't any longer. She had grown into her features, a graceful, small, but curvy and absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.

He was her teacher, he had to remind himself almost constantly. His change in perception made him more taciturn, but she was stubborn and would let nothing get between her and her duty. Still she would be there, even after the worst of insults.

"Why," he had once asked. "Why do you stand all the insults?"

She had looked at him puzzled then and then with a contemplative look on her face: a frown marring her beautiful face and her chewing her lower lip, something that drove him to absolute madness. How he wished he could make her stop.

"Many years of conditioning, sir," she finally answered and went on to say. "And knowing what the truth is, recognising and accepting my flaws and then working or moving past them. It is what you taught in addition to your subject, professor."

Her answer floored him. She seemed to be the first to catch that. The lesson of when to drop it and when to fight. He had not said much more to her for a long time after that outside giving of reports. He was not as caustic and she seemed less tense, but no less alert and they developed a companionable silence.