"Were we also this small?"

Hermione watched the first-years from her place in the Great Hall, feeling slightly thrown off-kilter. It seemed like it was only yesterday when it had been her own bushy head beneath the tattered old sorting hat and the perspective felt decidedly different when watching it all from the teacher's table.

Beside her, Neville had been engaged in a guessing contest with Michael Corner about which house each student ended up in, but he turned to chuckle knowingly at her.

"You know we were," he said, nudging her with his elbow. "You were a bossy swot and I was a quivering nervous wreck." He grinned. "Sometimes I think that growing up was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I'll say..." She shook her head a little. "And I suppose we were, but was it really that long ago?"

"It's been twenty years to the day. If you blink, it will be Rose's turn." Neville patted her hand. "Don't tell me you miss it?"

"I don't…not exactly…" Hermione looked towards the Headmaster's seat, where Filius was perched atop a small stack of pillows. Although he lacked some Dumbledore's physical presence, he seemed very much at home in the position, smiling amicably down at the sea of uniformed children.

"Is it much different now?" she asked. "You know, without Dumbledore and McGonagall around?"

Neville looked out across the hall, where Cavan was reading the new student's names off a scroll. His voice was nearly drowned out by the Ravenclaws at the table furthest to their right, who were cheering a tiny girl with black hair and round spectacles.

"I miss Pomona most," said Neville, "but at least we still got Filius and Hagrid."

Hermione chuckled. "And Sybill," she added, "and I don't think Cuthbert will ever move on from this place. And Severus is still here, so I guess some things remain the same."

Neville shrugged, seeming indifferent.

"What?" She raised her eyebrows. "You still don't like him much?"

"Nah…" Neville shot a glance towards their very left, where Severus was sitting next to Catherine, the librarian. They weren't talking to each other and she seemed uncomfortable in her spot at the end of the table with only the Potions Master for company.

Neville turned back to Hermione, raising his voice again as the Gryffindors saluted their newest member. "I can't say he's my favourite person, but I suppose he's grown on me since we were kids." He snorted. "But my opinion of him was pretty low back then. These days at least he thinks to thank me when I substitute for him."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "You substitute his classes?"

"We all do that for each other when it's necessary." Neville chuckled. "So yeah. When he's ill and all that. I'm the one who grows most of his potion ingredients anyway."

"Right." Hermione frowned. "But what do you mean? Severus is ill?"

Neville shrugged. "Bloke has as much right to take a sick day as anyone I suppose, even if he's a mean old grouch. But there's no need to worry about me blowing up the Dungeons." He looked at her askance. "I've improved, you know. My potions skills have matured since we were in school."

Hermione smiled. "I believe you," she said, off-hand. In fact, many things about Neville had matured. The man beside her was very different from the tense and clumsy boy she had met on the Hogwarts Express. Much like Harry, he'd grown into a level-headed adult with a quiet, unassuming appeal. She had no doubt he would make a very good parent one day, if he and Hannah ever chose to have children.

"But even so, he hasn't changed much, has he?" Neville said. "He's strict and short-tempered and I know that Filius still receives a lot of complaints."

"From whom?" She lowered her voice a fraction, even though it made no difference in the general commotion. "And whatever for?"

"Oh, you know…" Neville sighed. "Usually it's the old Death Eater thing. With our generation becoming parents to children here, many of them remember the year when he was Headmaster. See that girl next to Teddy?" He pointed to a Hufflepuff whose light brown hair was in a long plait. Hermione nodded.

"That's Susan Bones' niece. She in second grade now and, well, it was a bit of a hassle to convince her parents to allow her in Potions in the first place." He shook his head. "Susan was abused pretty badly, you know…that year... The Carrows often targeted her for her family's resistance and…" He trailed off. "Well, you can imagine she had it pretty tough."

"I see…" Hermione's eyes drifted towards the Sorting Hat again. She supposed she should consider herself lucky that they had spent their last year away from school. Although they'd certainly had their share of difficulties on the run, at least they didn't have to contend with Voldemort's lackeys on a daily basis.

But it had been tough for everyone. That particular year must certainly have been a struggle for Severus and it couldn't have been easy for him to return here after what had transpired. Even if they'd have let him be Headmaster again, she doubted he would have wanted it and though he'd explained to her his reasons for staying, she had a hard time believing he had revealed to her the entire truth…

"He likes you, you know."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"What? Who?"

Neville smiled, nodding at the students lined up for sorting. There were only a few of them left now. "Cavan, who else? I noticed you were watching him."

"I wasn't…" Her gaze turned towards the man in green robes who was picking the hat off a curly-haired Slytherin.

Neville laughed quietly. "He's a decent fellow," he said. "Social and active. He loves Quidditch, but unlike Ron, he's pretty well-read. I think you'd be a great match."

She shook her head feebly. "I hate sports…"

"I'll be sure to let him know… Listen, Hermione, I hope you don't mind me asking, but…" He searched her face, seeming to test the waters. "It's just that you've been alone for some time now and I never got the chance to talk to you after…Ron, so I was wondering…" He trailed off uncertainly.

She sighed, knowing what would come. "Yes," she said, forestalling the inevitable question. "I'm over him. Completely."

"I'm glad to hear it." Neville leaned a little closer. "What exactly happened between you two? You were together for years. It all seemed sort of sudden."

"I know." Hermione picked up her dessertspoon, tracing patterns with it edge on the tablecloth. "I mean, I know it must have seemed that way, but really, it was a long time coming. Ron and I we…"

She cast around for the right words, thinking of how the romantic interest in one of her first friends had been largely founded in her own inexperience and need for approval and how she hadn't really known at the time that the unusually strong bond they had forged during the war wasn't really what they'd hoped it was.

So when normality resumed, and she started her healer studies and Ron went on to pursue his Quidditch career, the understanding between them that was founded in the fellowship of a common ordeal dimmed, and their differences in personality came into play in a way that made the truth painfully obvious: They bored each other to death.

That withstanding, it had taken considerable time before any one of them had shown the guts to do anything about it. And with Rose on the way, their future together had seemed to be carved in stone. In fact, it hadn't really occurred to her that she ought to reconsider her situation until that fateful day almost two years ago, when Ron was awarded Witch Weekly's 'Most Charming Smile of the Year'.

It was such a silly little thing. But it had shaken their relationship when Ron's success as a Quidditch player brought him the kind of female attention he'd always craved as a teenager. And even though he never wavered, it had been a wake-up call for them both. From then on, Ron grew restless and distant, wanting to enjoy his spotlight lifestyle, but she didn't, and preferred to spend her nights at home, alone.

"At the end we hardly ever saw each other anymore," she contended to say. "We don't share any common interest, apart from Rose, of course. But even with her in our lives we only seemed to talk past each other and over the years the wedge between us grew. When we didn't even look forward to the time spent together, we decided it was better to just be apart."

"But you're still friends?"

Seeing Neville's concerned expression almost made her laugh. "Yes, we're friends," she said with a chuckle. "In fact, we're on better terms now than we've ever been before. Ron has started dating a chaser from the Harpies just recently and I'm delighted on his behalf. Honestly. It's quite liberating."

Neville grinned, nodding at Hern, who had just taken his place beside Filius. "I'm truly happy to hear that," he said. "And I know someone else who'll be happy as well. It's high time for you to start seeing someone new."

"Perhaps, Neville." She rolled her eyes at the wheedling and put the spoon down as their dinner appeared in front of them. "Maybe. When I meet the right one…"

Neville's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Well," he said, so quietly that she almost couldn't hear, "you won't know until you try, will you?"

She figured she didn't have to reply to that, choosing instead to cast her eyes once again at the young professor who seemed to have taken an interest in her.

There was no denying that Cavan Hern was handsome and pleasant to be around. It baffled her that someone who surely could have had his pick amongst almost any woman he laid eyes on would choose to look at her, a boring bookworm so distinctly lacking in the elusive quality that makes men turn their heads…

She'd lie if she said she wasn't flattered.

Severus put his quill into the greying wooden ink holder on his desk and sorted yet another poorly worded first-year essay to the stack of corrected assignments. The flames in the fireplace were burning low and a raw chill had started to creep into the room, seeming to come from the shadowy corners where the light from the candles did not quite reach. It was nearing eight in the evening, his office hours were over, and a headache was slowly but surely creeping up on him from working in the dimming light. All he wanted to do was to crawl back to his living quarters and rest his eyes.

He had been farsighted even as a boy. But his father had thought that reading was for women and nancy-boys, and would strike him for being a whining sissy if he ever mentioned it. As such, his parents never gave him glasses, something Potter and his mates never failed to remind him of once he started Hogwarts. They laid into him about almost everything, but the remarks about his hair and face staining the textbooks with grease marks had got to him, making the whole damn thing a sore spot he had never quite recovered from.

But a life-long habit of reading in the dark had not helped his condition, and nowadays, he didn't stand a chance without his reading glasses. He still managed in the classroom, luckily. He knew the syllabus by heart and could distinguish most potion ingredients without reading off the labels, but the essays were a right pain. Especially since the student's handwriting only seemed to worsen with each passing year.

Severus sighed. He would just have to suck it up and let the little blighters wait to have their work returned. They would probably just thank him for it anyway.

He pushed the remaining stack of parchment aside and stretched his back. But as he did, the creaking chair made him miss the silent opening of his office door…

"Looking a bit peaky there, Snape."

He straightened sharply at the nonchalant voice, immediately pulling his glasses off his face. Hern.

"What do you want?"

Severus knew he was being rude, but he was not in the mood to cross swords tonight. Because surely, there could be no other reason for Cavan Hern to approach him other than to pick a fight. The former Auror had a way of unnerving him, and from the calculating glances they exchanged and the whispers in the corridors, it was clear that the dislike was mutual.

It didn't help Severus much that he had no idea what Hern knew about his affiliation with the Dark Lord and his sordid past as a criminal, but as far as he could tell, they managed to not get along in spite of Hern being oblivious. Nevertheless, why they could not leave each other well alone was beyond his comprehension.

Apparently though, Hern thought differently. He calmly walked around the room, eying the potion ingredients and clutter in the shelves with mild interest.

"There's no need to cut me off," he said, pausing before Severus' desk to perch boldly on its edge. "I only want a quick word."

"It's late," said Severus coldly. "I'm of a mind to call it a day."

"I can tell." Hern looked down on him, only a slight disdainful tilt of his mouth betraying his irritation. "But surely you have time for a friendly chat with a colleague?"

"Fine." Hating the way he sounded petulant, Severus averted his eyes and huffed. "So what do you want already?"

"Angel's trumpet," said Hern, tracing a path with his finger in the dust on one of the books that was scattered about. "Have you heard of it?"

Severus sneered. "Of course I have," he said. "Any first-year with the ability to read has. It's listed in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi."

"It's briefly mentioned." Hern wrinkled his nose as he brushed off his hands. "And it would be a far stretch to say that it's common knowledge. I assume you're not acquainted with any potions where it would be useful, are you?"

The question was asked casually, but the undertone of accusation made Severus instantly wary.

"It isn't used in regular potions," he said slowly, "at least not in any publication I know of. But if you distil the tropane alkaloids in the seeds, it's a fairly potent poison..."

"It is," said Hern, watching him. "A nerve agent. It causes a very nasty death. Grizzly, I'd say." He tilted his head. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Severus bristled. "Well, if you know that already," he barked, "why bother coming to me?"

"I assumed you knew more. You're the Potions Master, after all." Hern widened his eyes innocently. "You see, Hermione has asked me to look into it. There were several orders of it in the Infirmary's bookkeeping and she was worried she'd get blamed for someone else's…misconduct..."

"Hermione asked you?"

"Yeah." Hern shrugged. "And of course I offered my assistance. Who wouldn't for such a charming lady, hm?"

Severus' face felt stony. He was just about ready to hex Hern back to the third floor, but unfortunately, his wand was on the far side of the table. That, and perhaps he wasn't entirely confident in the outcome of a potential duel…

"I 'm sure you did," he said gruffly. "Now are you quite through with disturbing my work or was there anything else you needed?"

"I thought you were tired?" As he spoke, Hern leaned over to glance at the papers on Severus' circular desk. "But now that you mention it, there is actually something I've been meaning to ask…"

"Go on then." He gathered the essays together, putting them to the side so that Hern couldn't see his markings. He had no idea why, but even those felt too personal for disclosure, as though he just expected the young man to use any information he could get hands on against him. Maybe he was being silly, but there was something between them... An uneasiness he hadn't felt with anyone since his schooldays, when Potter and the Marauders were the bane of his existence…

"It's about her."

Hern studied him carefully, apparently anticipating some sort of reaction, but Severus was seasoned in the art of deception.

"About whom?"

Hern chuckled. "Hermione of course. You seem familiar. I was wondering how you know her?"

Severus frowned. "I was her teacher. What of it?"

"Right. I should have guessed." Hern's face brightened. "So you don't know her… privately or anything?"

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I mean, do you see each other in your free time?" Hern jumped off his desk, upsetting his quill so that its tip made a wet, red trail down the ink holder. Severus felt his lips thin, but Hern continued, unperturbed, "…do you know anything at all about her life? Like where does she live in summer, or who her ex-husband is?"

Up until then, Severus had been able to contain his temper, but this interrogation was the final straw. He stood from his chair, scowling. "That's none of your business, Hern," he growled. "If I knew I wouldn't tell you. I suggest you leave her alone."

"I see…." Hern watched him slyly. "But I doubt she'd want that. In fact, I've got an appointment with her on Saturday." He smirked. "She's going to help me go through the Slytherins' medical files…"

"Is she now?" They stood on either side of the desk, facing off as though poised for a fight.

"She is." Hern casually picked up a paperweight from the table, an old-fashioned brass compass.

Severus shifted. After Potter and his Order had killed off the Dark Lord, and with typical chivalry, Potter had presented him with it when he woke up in St. Mungo's twelve years ago.

Supposedly, it was a 'thank you' for guarding his path through the war –never mind that Potter had already saved his life form Nagini's bite. It was simple, without unnecessary décor, but at first, his relationship to it had been ambivalent. Yet, for unexplainable reasons, he'd kept it around, and over time, he'd grown rather fond of the dratted thing.

After all, it was Potter who had kept him out of Azkaban, if only by the skin of his teeth, and that was a fate worse than death if you had enough vices to carry around.

But he digressed...

Hern examined the compass with studied disinterest before boring cold blue eyes into Severus' own.

"You seem to have a bit of a… soft spot for her…"

There was a moment when he could not quite comprehend what had been said. It took several seconds for him to realise that they had arrived at the matter of the heart, but eventually, an icy chill went down his spine.

He had not moved an inch, but something must have betrayed him nonetheless because after a moment, a haughty smile made Hern's cheek dimple.

"Don't you?" he demanded.

He did.

How could he have let this happen? Once again, he longed for someone who didn't return the sentiment. He had been down that road before and knew that it wouldn't end well. In fact, he did not think he could take it one more time…

But even worse, his secret was out. He watched Hern's expression through the scant shield his greasy hair provided. Was he really that transparent? It had been many years since he stopped occluding his thoughts on a daily basis, but surely, he still had some control over his face?

Well, apparently not. But judging from Hern's knowing look, the pompous prick had a secret or two of his own. After all, doesn't it take one to know one, as the saying goes?

Severus tried to ignore the way something in his chest crumpled by that realisation. Deep down, he had known all along that they were rivals, but having the truth served like a gut-punch made it tangible.

This was just like with Potter when they were young. Because really, what did he have to offer anyone? He wasn't outgoing or handsome… A lifetime's supply of potions maybe? A decent sized, but heavily skewed library? Or –he almost snorted- his ramshackle house on Spinner's End?

He knew he wasn't what most women would want. A social pariah. Always quiet, shielding himself from past hurts and preferring to be alone so that others would not see his scars. His disposition was far from friendly, and although the years had softened his edges, they had not made him pleasant or sociable, but instead, he had to admit, rather dull. A far cry from the open, attractive, young Hern who always seemed to know what to say to make others feel well…

He forced his sweaty palms to rest casually on the table top. He could not afford to show weakness in front of this man.

"Your cards are showing, Hern," he said instead, with a calm he didn't feel. "It seems to me that you're the one who's smitten."

But the challenge did not appear to have the impact on Hern that he had aimed for.

"I am." Instead of seeming caught-out, he merely put the compass carelessly back down on the desk, making it topple down the messy stack of assignments and land on its side. He did not bother to set it straight. "And since you're not interested," he countered, "I'll be sure to let her know, so that I can get a…clear shot."

Perhaps that was for the best after all…

Severus felt both tired and rattled. He ignored the small victory it granted Hern and leaned forward to close the casing of Potter's compass and put it carefully back atop the stack of papers from where it came.

"You're twisting my words now," he said on a sigh. "I told you absolutely nothing."

"Perhaps not." Hern raised his eyebrows. "But I'm going to interpret it whichever way suits me. You know what they say, Snape?"

Severus shook his head. "What?"

"All is fair in love and war."

He was about to end the conversation by picking up his wand and throwing Hern out on his shitty, pretty head when a timid voice by the door made both men startle.

"Sev'rus…? Is something wrong?"

Rose was watching them with a frown on her little face, out of place in the tense atmosphere. Severus winced, pocketing his wand as subtly as he could manage and hoping to himself that murder had not been written on his face.

Without missing a beat, Hern walked around Severus' back, giving his shoulder a squeeze in passing, a bit too firm for friendly.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetie," he said kindly, crouching down in front of the girl and giving her a bright smile. "We're just talking about some grown-up stuff, don't worry. You probably know how old Severus here likes to act all grumpy."

Rose watched him sceptically, so he extended a hand. "My name is Cavan," he said. But if you'd like you can just call me Cav. I'm a friend of your mother's and I've heard a lot about you. You're Rose, am I right?"

She shook it cautiously, glancing at Severus as though to ask him if this was really true.

Despite his better judgement and a base desire to inform her that Hern was a conceited arse, Severus deigned the unasked question a small nod. He had not done anything that honourable in years –if at all- but it only left him a bitter taste in his mouth when Rose turned back to Hern with a smile.

"I know," she said. "You're the one who teaches flying. Mum said you used to chase villains, just like my Uncle Harry."

"That's right," said Hern. "Do you like to fly?"

"I guess." Rose shrugged, but the spark of interest in her eye was undeniable. "I've never tried, but Teddy says it's the coolest thing in the world. He's twelve already and he has his own broom."

"If you'd like, I can take you some time." Hern straightened in one smooth movement. "But it's rather late for you to be out by yourself, isn't it?" He glanced at his pocket watch. "Come here, I'll walk you home."

He extended a hand, but instead of taking it, Rose stepped into the room, away from him.

"Actually," she said, "Mum said I could visit Sev'rus before bed." She looked up at him, trust written in her lovely brown eyes. "You said I could, remember?"

Her loyalty was like spring's rain on the parched desert of his soul. Severus closed his eyes for the fraction of a second when all his resentment seemed to dissipate like the fleeting smoke from a missed curse.

"Of course, Rose," he said gently. "I remember."

But despite being touched to the bone, he could not help himself. When Rose looked away the next moment, he smirked wickedly at Hern, taking care so that she would not notice.

The spurned Defence Professor straightened with a benign smile on his face and said his goodbyes politely, but the look he sent in Severus' direction before he spun on his heel pledged bloody vengeance.

He stood there silently for a moment, watching the door where the man's perfectly tailored robe had just brushed through until a small hand entwined with his own. He bent his head to see Rose looking up at him expectantly.

"Come on then," she said, tugging on his arm. "You promised to make me hot chocolate."

"Right…" He sighed, picking his cloak from the leather armchair and tossing it over his shoulders.

If this indeed was war, his adversary was much better appointed and he knew he didn't stand a chance. He should probably just get used to that idea at once. He was through with fighting wars. He'd had enough of them for more than a lifetime and if he wanted his heart in one piece, he'd do well to remember.

But at least, it seemed, Rose was still on his side.