Chapter 9

"I'm fine," Hermione says for at least the fourth time. "Honestly. We barely know one another is there. I have my own bedroom and bath"—bath being a misnomer, as there is no tub, she thinks resentfully—"and I'm going to be spending most of my time in the library and in private tutorials. Snape and I will barely see each other."

"Don't you mean Professor Snape, Mione?" Ron smirks.

"Shut it, Ron."

"Merlin, Mione, I was only teasing."

"At least Professor Snape was willing to step up and save me from being given to Dolohov or Malfoy, which is more than I can say for some people."

Ron has the good grace at least to look embarrassed. "Mum would've killed me. And if Fred couldn't protect you, I couldn't have either."

Hermione sighs. "I know." She was hurt that he hadn't offered, but in the cold light of day, she understands why he didn't, and why she has no right to be upset with him about it.

"So he didn't, erm—"

"Not talking about it, Ron," she cuts him off.

"I only—"

"Nope. Not one word."

"But Mione—"

"Ron, I mean it. No questions. No jokes. No sarcastic remarks." She gets enough of those from her husband. "Talk about homework or your family or even Quidditch, if you must, but not about this."

"Okay," Ron says. "I get it."

Hermione turns to Harry. "Do you get it?"

Harry nods.

"Good. Then I'm off to see Professor Flitwick about my Charms NEWT. I'll see you two at dinner."

Ginny gets up and follows Hermione from the table, grabbing her arm when they reach the corridor outside the Great Hall. "That not one word thing doesn't apply to me, right?" Ginny asks, practically salivating.

"Honestly, Ginny!"

"Come on, Mione. Girlfriends tell each other this stuff."

"Okay, one thing," she says, and when Ginny leans toward her in anticipation, Hermione whispers in her friend's ear, "There's no sex dungeon."

Ginny grins. "Were you relieved, or disappointed?"

"Oh, my God," Hermione says. She hurries off down the corridor, the sound of Ginny's laughter following her.

It's after curfew and Granger still hasn't returned to their quarters. Severus gives up trying to mark fifth year essays, and starts pacing. Granger is no longer a student, so she doesn't have a curfew, but surely she understands that she is on the Dark Lord's radar, and she needs to be careful. He's not the only Death Eater in the castle, and the way his godson has been acting lately, Severus doesn't trust the boy not to do something stupid.

When the wards shimmer and she finally enters, he asks, "Where have you been?"

"Library," she says without looking at him, and heads for her bedroom.

"Granger."

She stops, turns in the doorway. She's got that mulish set of her jaw, as though she's about to tell him off, but she just looks at him.

"I would appreciate it if you would let me know when you're planning to return after curfew." Before she can remind him that she's of age and doesn't have a curfew and it's not the middle ages when her husband can tell her what time to be home, he adds, "As a courtesy. So that I will not worry."

This takes the wind out of her sails. "How should I communicate with you?" she asks after a moment. "Owl? Patronus?"

"I thought this might be the most efficient means." He holds a slim black journal out to her. The silver monogram in the corner reads HGS. "It's linked to mine, and whatever one of us writes, the other will see. They're charmed so that to anyone else, the pages will appear blank."

She nods, walks toward him and takes the journal, then starts toward her room again.

"Miss Granger."

She stops, turns to face him. "Yes, Professor?"

"I understand that you met with the rest of the staff today to plan your exam reviews?"

"Yes."

"When would you like to meet with me?"

"I, erm, I think I can manage the Defence exam without taking up any of your time."

"You probably can, with an Exceeds Expectations. I would have thought you'd want an Outstanding."

"In an ideal world, yes. But we're not living in an ideal world, are we?"

"No," he agrees. "We are not. Nevertheless, if you would like assistance with your Defence or Potions exam preparation, I am at your disposal."

"Potions?"

"You can work with Slughorn if you prefer, of course."

"But I'd be better off working with you."

"If you want top marks, yes."

"I accept your generous offer," she says. "In both subjects. Shall I make a copy of my schedule with my other tutorials on it, so you can schedule Defence and Potions at your convenience?"

"That will be acceptable."

"Thank you, Professor."

Severus, he almost says. It's ludicrous that they're married and not calling each other by their given names. She isn't his student anymore. Exam reviews aren't classes where she would receive a grade. He heard Minerva and Filius referring to her as Hemione in the staff room, so he assumes that they and probably the rest of the staff are now on a first name basis with her. He doesn't want to call her Miss Granger, which makes him feel like a dirty old man, and feels ridiculous calling her Mrs. Snape, since it's a name she never wanted. Granger is what comes out when he's not thinking about it, but it's too casual if she's going to continue calling him Professor.

But he doesn't say it. Instead, he watches her go into her insultingly tiny room and close the door.