A/N: This chapter is dedicated to new follower, JenRH! Welcome to the family, and I hope you continue to enjoy the show!

-C

The routines came back easily, just as they did with every new term. Lydia fell into her lessons without thinking about it, the grading seemed to do itself after a little while, and the students buckled down within the first week of classes. Lydia was especially pleased with Cedric, who had done some work over the holiday that he wanted her to look at. He brought it in before his class was starting, and he asked if she could give him her thoughts, if it wasn't inconvenient.

He was bolder than she was, certainly. Braver, anyway, although she had been the Gryffindor. Lydia would never have had the courage to approach her teachers with her own work at his age. Although his ideas needed work, she thought as the students did their warm-up assignment, he did have some promise, and he was thinking in creative and interesting ways.

When the last student set down their quill, Lydia stood, setting Cedric's work aside.

"Let's talk about inversion," Lydia said. "The difference between inversion and reversal, which was a struggle for many of you at the end of the last term. Who thinks they have even part of the difference between the two?"

Many students raised their hands, including several who never volunteered. Lydia called on a Slytherin girl who spoke so rarely that Lydia couldn't recall the sound of her voice. The girl gave a clear, concise, and ultimately perfect answer. Lydia's surprise most have shown on her face, because the students exchanged grins, and a few began to giggle.

"We formed a study group over Christmas," Cedric said.

Lydia expressed how impressed she was, and she asked how they'd done it with everyone away on holiday. She realized quickly that this was Cedric's brainchild. He arranged a correspondence tree, a reading list, a study guide, and study groups in pockets all over the country.

After class, Cedric stayed to talk to Lydia about the work he'd shown her. He seemed nervous, which was not something she was used to associating with Cedric Diggory. Still, Lydia recalled her own nerves, showing the beginnings of her first theorem to her professor. This wasn't quiet as big of a work, but she knew first steps of all shapes and sizes seemed massive.

"There's still plenty of work to do, but I think you knew that. I suppose my question, Cedric, is what do you want out of life?"

He looked alarmed, and Lydia could understand why. Who ever knew at thirteen what they wanted out of anything? She assured him he didn't have to know for sure, or even have a guess. His face relaxed.

"I only ask because I think you'll have a lot of options. I'd hate to see you limit yourself so young when you have the potential, someday, to be quite a good and powerful bureaucrat, maybe even Minister for Magic."

Cedric looked stunned, and he said, "I don't know that I'd be much for politics, Professor Rowe. I don't think I have the necessary…ruthlessness."

Lydia thought it would be ideal if people in power had a little less ruthlessness and a bit more compassion, but she doubted her wishes would feel realistic enough to Cedric. Instead she said, "I think your competitive spirit more than makes up for that. My concern isn't so much about what you end up doing as much as it is concern that you don't waste time and energy on something you won't want to truly commit to. It's time consuming, Arithmancy, and it can be very isolating. You're such a social creature."

"I'm really not, professor. I much prefer my own company. I only have so many friends because…. Well, it's in the interest of a peaceful existence in my dormitory and common room."

She understood perfectly. He was begrudgingly popular, and he felt responsible for keeping disagreeing factions from causing trouble for everyone. She could see, too, how he reluctantly became poplar: attractive, charming, intelligent, talented and kind to everyone. Who wouldn't want to befriend him?

"Well, just remember, if you do choose to pursue these very excellent beginnings, you may find your path and priorities shifting when you're older, and that's alright. Just because you can do anything doesn't mean you shall try to do everything."

He thanked her for the advice and left her classroom. It felt eerily empty, and Lydia had the uncomfortable sensation that someone was watching her. She tried distracting herself by reading, marking, running equations, but nothing could take her mind away from the sensation of being watched. Unable to concentrate, Lydia packed up her things and headed for the staff lounge.

Lydia was surprised to find Severus there, sipping a very large mug of tea. He didn't look up, not when she entered, nor when she sat beside him. Instead, he was focused on a letter. He rested his hand on her thigh, though, to nonverbally acknowledge her presence.

"Isn't that one of Hagrid's mugs?" she asked. Severus hummed. "How were classes?" Severus grunted. "What are you reading that's more interesting than me?"

"Nothing."

"Then I guess I'll get my tea to go."

"What I meant, Lydia, is that nothing is ever more interesting than you, however this letter is more urgent than your attempts at conversation, presently."

Lydia looked over his shoulder, curious, and was surprised to see that it was all coded, and in blend of what appeared to be Latin and French. Who would write him coded letters? Former Death Eaters, she supposed, but why would they bother writing him anything that required their special code?

Lydia cleared her throat, and Severus slowly looked up at her. She didn't ask her questions, just waited for him to explain. After a long, long pause, he said, "Lucius."

She was still sour about the supposed gift he had sent her, so she had a hard time thinking Lucius had anything important to say, but the code made her curious.

"I didn't know you spoke French."

"I don't," he said, still not giving her any information about the letter. "Lucius thought it was important for me to learn…certain things. Most of what I know, I picked up in conversation and…"

"Eavesdropping."

He hummed. It was more French than Lydia had, but she didn't really want to press him. Instead, she watched him mentally decode the letter, and he hesitated for a moment before burning it.

"The war is over," she whispered. "So why is Lucius sending you coded letters?"

Severus hesitated again, not meeting her eye. He said, "History would have you believe wars are clean things that can be contained between dates, inside borders, abiding by rules. Wars are none of those things, and they never were."

"Are you saying the war isn't over?" she said.

Her stomach dropped, and she thought of the calculations she'd made years ago, in Sirius's house, calculations that told her the war would never end. Were the calculations right, or was she asking the wrong questions?

"I'm saying," Severus whispered, "that I don't think the answers are as simple as the questions. You know my…theory."

"About…?"

She didn't say Quirrell's name, just thought it. Severus inclined his head in a barely perceptible nod.

Lydia still struggled to believe Quirinus was in any way dangerous, but she knew Severus's theory. Apparently, he was talking to Lucius about it, in some capacity. Perhaps asking for the latest whispers, from their set, perhaps looking for other signs. She doubted he'd use Quirrell's name, or give specifics of his theories, especially not to Lucius, but if he was serious enough to be checking his old contacts, Severus must truly believe there was something in these theories.

"I need to meet with Albus," Severus said. "I'll be at dinner."

"Sev—"

"It's not just about the letter, Lydia. I would have met with him regardless. I will be at dinner. If you feel you need to talk about this later, we can talk about it privately."

Lydia reluctantly agreed, and she watched him go. She thought about making herself a cup of tea but decided to finish off Severus's massive cup instead. It was strong, over-steeped, and she found it difficult to finish for the bitterness. Still, she swallowed the last drops and went to dinner, expecting to find Severus already there. In fact, he was late for dinner, both he and Albus, and Lydia fielded a question from Minerva about what was taking them so long with a tight smile and a shrug.

When Severus did finally sit by Lydia, she wanted to ask him what the meeting was about, but he shook his head and glanced out at the students with an expressionless gaze. He wasn't even bothering to glare suspiciously at the Gryffindor table, so he must truly be preoccupied. Minerva leaned across Lydia and said to him, "Severus, I needed to ask you about having some mild burn pastes I can have on hand during lessons. I've had Seamus Finnigan burn off his eyebrows again."

"You'd think he wouldn't feel it anymore," Severus said. Lydia made a noise of alarm, but Severus said, "I'll whip something up. Not a large batch, mind, just something to tide them over until the hospital wing."

"That is more than suitable," Minerva said.

It was, Lydia thought, the most civil conversation she'd ever heard between the pair. She thought of trying to extend it, but she supposed it might just dissolve into their usual tone, so instead she asked Minerva how the first year students were coming along, generally. Severus's stiffness and Minerva's sad expression told Lydia that they could see quite plainly what she was really asking, but neither said so out loud.

"They are a suitable group with some measure of talent scattered throughout. Good, but not extraordinary, with a few exceptions."

"Miss Granger, I think you said?"

"She has an incredible talent, yes, and applies herself admirably," Minerva said with a nod. "Anthony Goldstein has some aptitude, although he doesn't appear to have much interest in the subject. And Draco Malfoy is, admittedly, a gifted student."

Not Harry. Perhaps he didn't take after his father in that way, Lydia reasoned, or perhaps he just hadn't found his feet in the wizarding world yet. James had all his life to pick up things and learn early. If he'd started from scratch, who's to say he wouldn't have been less brilliant?

"What is your assessment, Filius?" Lydia asked, and the Ravenclaw head of house perked up.

"Of the first year students? Oh, a wonderful group overall. Miss Granger is a definite talent. We have a few solid students in each house. Mr. Malfoy is the best in Slytherin, certainly. Miss Greengrass is also quite bright. Mr. Goldstein and Mr. Boot are excellent, and Mr. Finch-Fletchley is coming along nicely in Hufflepuff. Miss Bones and Miss Abbott are, of course, very good." This elicited nods from several professors, including Severus. "I believe Miss Brown would be quite good, should she apply herself, and Mr. Potter seems to have some raw material as well, although I'm not always certain he has confidence enough in his abilities."

Severus snorted, no doubt ready to say Harry was so far up himself, no one would be able to disentangle him, but Lydia trod on his foot. He held whatever snide remark he'd prepared in, and she knew she'd have to hear about it later, but she didn't care.

Charms. Like Lily. That had been Lily's favorite subject.

To her surprise, Severus did not take up his tirade against Harry after dinner. As soon as they were alone, Severus retreated to go through old notes, leaving Lydia alone with her marking and a warm tea. She thought of trying to distract him, but she thought it was probably about that letter again, and he would only close off if she tried to press. There was no point disturbing him.

The next day, Lydia dealt with her N.E.W.T. students. She was already seeing the signs of the impending exams, still months away. Dark circles, unkempt hair, even a boy with his shoes on the wrong feet. She wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed it yet, but she wasn't about to point it out in front of his classmates. She might catch him on the way out of class.

"Let's go over the theories for alchemical numeracy," she said. A few students perked up.

This lesson was always a hit, and for whatever reason, she had full attention whenever she taught it. Some of her quiet ones even began to participate. Lydia allowed the students to take the reins of the class, adjusting the pace of the discussion, determining the direction of the discussion, having a bit of fun with their schoolwork. Lydia popped in and out to answer questions, correct inaccuracies, and guide people back who'd fallen off down a side road and lost what they were meant to be discussing. It wasn't the typical educational method at Hogwarts, and it certainly wasn't her usual method of teaching, but it was one she enjoyed. In many ways, she considered it ideal, even down to how ideal conditions had to be for it to take off at all in the classroom.

At the end of class, students were disappointed they couldn't keep the discussion up, but Lydia reminded them that they could carry it into lunch, and even come in groups to her office to talk over parts they hadn't gotten to yet.

"Just remember," Lydia said, "that some of these theories were proven incorrect already, but that doesn't mean there isn't valuable information and ideas contained in them. Just like in fields like Divination or Astronomy, there can be as much value in studying what didn't work as in studying what did."

Her students filed out still chattering. Lydia gathered her papers, slipped them into her bag, and was going to spend some time in the staff room when she walked right into a small group of students going to other direction.

"Oh, I'm so…" She paused, momentarily stunned to see James Potter in front of her. It wasn't James, she reminded herself, and she forced a smile. "So sorry. I shouldn't be in such a rush."

"It's fine, professor," Harry and his friends said.

"Where are you all off to this morning?"

"We're just getting our things for Transfiguration," Hermione Granger said. "It's a fascinating subject, don't you think?"

The Weasley brother looked ready to roll his eyes, but Lydia just smiled.

"I think most of the subjects are pretty fascinating," she admitted. "That's a great thing about your first few years. You get to try lots of things and grow in a lot of directions. Savor that. You'll miss it someday."

"Do you ever miss it, Professor Rowe?" Hermione said.

Lydia couldn't recall ever being personally introduced to the girl, but she already quite liked her.

"Always," Lydia admitted. "I miss brewing regularly. I miss learning Transfiguration and Charms. I suppose I don't mind not having to do Defense or Herbology anymore."

"History of Magic," Ron Weasley moaned.

Hermione hesitated. Obviously, she wanted to say that History of Magic was fascinating—which it was, as a subject—but even she was not ready to defend the dullness of Binns's…droning.

"That's an interesting self-study," Lydia said gently. "Well, I won't keep you. I wouldn't want you to be late for Professor McGonagall's class."

"Have a lovely day, Professor!" Hermione said.

Yes, Lydia did like that girl. She waved at them, trying not to stare at Harry, who almost certainly got enough of that just walking the halls. She thought of how easy it was to think of James when she looked at Harry, and she shivered when they were out of sight. How simple it would be for his father's name to come out of her mouth if he caught her off guard. And then the questions would certainly come.

Reluctantly, Lydia was beginning to understand why Albus had advised her to stay clear of Harry. The more she was around him, the more opportunities she would have to slip up. The more she was near him, the harder it was to say nothing he wouldn't wonder about, and the easier it was for her to wish she could talk to him about something, anything of value.

Lydia finally sat down in the staff room, and she rested her head in her hands, feeling a twitch in her noise and a watering in her eyes. She wasn't going to cry, and she wasn't going to let this master her. She was taking steady breaths, trying to focus on anything but that longing and loss she'd felt when she realized it was Harry and not James, and then the door flung open. Lydia started, worried she'd see Severus or Albus or someone who might say they'd told her so. But it was Filius.

"Oh, Lydia," he said. He was smiling at first, but she must look as terrible as she felt, because his smile fell. "Are you feeling quite alright?"

"I…" She hiccoughed. "Sorry. I'm…just feeling a bit…." She shrugged. "Lonely, I guess."

At first, he seemed confused, but his concern melted after a moment, and he waddled toward the sink.

"How about I make us some tea, and I can tell you about the silly thing my second year Hufflepuffs came out with today."

Lydia wanted to protest, or decline, or something, but Filius was a hard man to say no to, because he was always so genuinely thrilled to offer whatever he was offering. And she had a feeling his generous spirit was tied to realizing just what group of graduates Lydia had belonged to, that he'd recalled that all her friends bar two were dead, so even if he thought of how Harry's presence was affecting her, he was trying to keep her from thinking about everything she'd lost.

The tea was well-brewed, and the story was harmless and amusing, and for a little while, Lydia was able to smile. But that sensation of longing hadn't faded, and as soon as she was alone again, the tears welled up all over.

A/N: So Lydia has a chat with Cedric about his future, Severus is conversing in code, Lydia gets intel from the other professors, and she has a run-in with the trio. Can I just say, I really want whatever the female equivalent of a bromance is to occur with Lydia and Hermione. Imagine them as adults, sitting in a café, discussing erudite things and then dishing out the gossip on their ridiculous friends. It'd be bomb.

Review Prompt: Imagine the conversation with the trio from Hermione's side of things.

-C