A/N

I was asked a couple of times how long this story is going to be. If anyone else is interested to know, I'd say we're probably about half-way now.

Also, if there were a house called Turtleuff or Snailindor, I'd be sorted there instantly. None of my stories are abandoned, but I'm so terribly caught up in work these days that I have very little time for recreation. I do hope though, that someone remembers this little fic all the same. If you got this far, then thanks a million for reading.

Even on sunny days, the brittle November light only reached the top of the thatched cottages in Hogsmeade and the streets below were cast in dark shades this late in the afternoon.

It was the time of year when people are always cold because they haven't yet remembered to put on enough clothes and Hermione huddled inside her brown wool cloak, longing for the warming effect of a well-brewed pepper-up, even though she didn't actually have a cold.

The bell on the door of Schrivenshaft's Quill Shop jingled as she held it open for Rose to pass beneath her arm. Surprising her, the girl squealed once outside, and jumped towards the outline of a tall man who was walking down the street, his shoulders hunched against the sleet and rain.

"Sev'rus!"

He stopped when he realised who it was and allowed Rose to jump around him in a sort of dancing hug.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she chirped, "it's finally snowing!"

"Er, I suppose…"

He looked up towards the grey sky –calling what fell on his face 'snow' was a far stretch, even for a five-year old– and then towards Hermione, seeming only mildly exasperated. She approached more slowly, taking in his heavy cloak and the brown paper bag beneath his arm with curiosity.

"Hello, Severus. You're looking a little…caught out. What are you up to?"

She looked up the street from where he had come, following the prints of his boots in the grey slush. "Honeydukes? What did you want to get in there for?"

"I ah, actually, I was…"

She blinked at him, not comprehending.

"Oh, all right," he growled, clutching the package a little tighter. "I was after some caramels."

"Caramels?" She grinned.

"Yes." He scowled. "Caramels. I've been craving them ever since you made me those homemade ones after I had the..." He broke her gaze. "Anyway. Now you know. Is your curiosity satisfied?"

She laughed. "Oh, but you have it bad. You'll have to watch out so that you'll not get addicted."

He shook his head at her. "It's a little late for that, I think. They can't really measure up to yours though." He watched her through his hair.

"Good for you, Severus." She reached out to touch his arm. I'm glad you enjoy them. We can make you more if you like."

She watched him fondly. "And I remember you from when I was in school," she said in a softer voice. "You didn't appear to appreciate life much back then. Now, at least, you're able to find pleasure in the small things." She grinned at him, askance. "It shows."

"What?" She had meant it as a compliment, but he gave a crooked grimace. "Are you trying to tell me I've put on weight?"

"No!" Her cheeks turned hot, despite the chilly air. "I mean, you did, but not in a bad way. At all. I think you look good. Great, in fact."

"Oh, well." He huffed and she could see the breath steaming from his nose and mouth. "It catches up with everyone, I suppose."

"I suppose…"

She could think of nothing better to say, too busy worrying over having given her cards away. To her relief, Severus seemed not to have taken much notice.

They watched Rose in silence for a moment as she ran back and forth in the sleet, trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue. The last of the students were leaving Madame Puddifooot's Tea Shop, huddled together and hand-in-hand, and a few of the kids from town were playing at a nearby playground. It was already growing dark.

"Are you going back home?" She waved a hand towards the edge of the village, where the Astronomy tower peaked up against the Scottish countryside.

He nodded, rubbing his gloved hands together and stomping his feet against the cold. There were several grey-white flakes on his shoulders and head, and he made no move to brush them off, but just allowed them to melt gradually into his hair, making it stick to his forehead and cheeks. "And you?"

She shivered. Her mittens were wet from before and her hair probably looked like a dead animal. "Home. I'm freezing." She hugged her elbows. "I wish we could apparate directly."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Severus straightened his back. "It's a little jarring, going through the wards like that."

She felt her eyes go wide. "You can do that?"

"I could," he said. "Ever since I was headmaster. But please don't tell Potter that. The Board would rather I keep a low profile because of my days as a…" He glanced at Rose. "Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, Hogwarts doesn't make such distinctions, but they don't have to know that."

"Is it wise to keep such things from them?" She frowned, finding it odd that he would choose to keep secrets while his position as a teacher was under supervision. "Harry is quite reasonable. I think you should consider telling him, at least then, they won't be surprised if they find out."

"I know." He cleared his voice, looking a little troubled. "Just forget I mentioned it. That isn't important anyway."

She was about to object to that, but he looked away dismissively, and nodded towards the road. "Shall we?"

"Sure." She sighed, turning her head. "Rose?"

"Coming, Mum!"

Rose had given up on catching snowflakes and was amusing herself with trying to glide across the ice and sleet on her boots. It was actually a little slippery and as Hermione turned back around, she unabashedly caught up to Severus to hook her arm inside his.

"You're going to try and pull me down with you now?" he grumbled, adjusting his elbow so that her arm pressed into his warm side.

"Stop being so grumpy, you git. I couldn't possibly manage that." She squeezed him back and grinned to herself at his muted grunt, at least until one of her feet slipped.

"Oh, tosh." They both staggered a little and she tightened her hold of him. "I wish there was a charm for slippery shoes. Didn't you use to make up your own spells?"

"That was a long time ago," muttered Severus, slowing his pace a little to accommodate her. "I can't think of one on such a short notice. Besides, I'm not really any good with charms. But I'll let you know if- ah!"

He startled as something wet hit him right between the shoulder blades with a splashing sound. He released his hold on her instantly and whirled around with a dark look in his eyes.

"That little sh-"

"Severus!" She smacked him, indicating Rose with her eyes. He winced.

"Sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry." Rose had caught up with them, but she had her eyes downcast, and looked a little dejected. "They didn't aim for you."

"What?" asked Hermione sharply, a shot of worry going through her. At the playground between Hogsmeade Station and Dervish and Banges, she could see the heads of three small boys peeking out from between the buildings. They were probably around Rose's age, or a little older, all of them too small for Hogwarts.

"Nothing." Rose looked away. "It's just someone from school. They were trying to hit me, Sev'rus, not you."

"Why would they do that?" Despite her better judgement and a genuine desire to keep calm for her daughter's sake, Hermione felt her voice go slightly shrill.

Rose rubbed her forehead over her knitted cap, as though she regretted having said anything. "They're teasing me," she mumbled. "It's just some boys. They pull my ponytail and call me redhead."

"Oh, no." Hermione reached out to stroke Rose's hair, but the girl pulled away, looking both sad and annoyed all at once. Hermione folded her hands in front of her instead, watching her from a measured distance, heart aching.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Rose," she said more calmly. "Why haven't you told me about this before? I'm sure I could have helped you."

"There's nothing you can do," she said sullenly, kicking some ice on the ground with her boot. "They're like that with some other girls, too. I didn't want you to make it worse if I told on them."

"I can understand that," said Severus cautiously. "I think the best thing you can do is try to ignore them."

He watched Rose through his hair as though he was preparing to be shot down, but there was also an air of determination about him. He looked for all the world like someone who had skin in the game, and with a pang, Hermione realised that his feelings towards Rose must be of the same nature as her own. The truth was that he acted more like an extra father for her daughter, than a friend, and despite the circumstances, she found the thought both comforting and appealing.

"I know it can be tough," he continued, "but don't let them get to you. You're worth more than that."

"What do you know?" Rose frowned. "You're an adult. They'll never dare to bother you."

Severus walked over to crouch down in front of her. Without hesitation, she climbed onto his back, locking her arms around his neck.

"I was teased in school as well," he said quietly. "I know many things about it."

"Really?"

Severus started on the path to Hogwarts and Hermione fell into step beside him.

"Really. They called me Sniv and did magical tricks to hurt me and humiliate me."

Rose's frown deepened and she chewed on her bottom lip. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't think that even they knew," said Severus. "At least not at first. Later, we became enemies and I did many things to them that I shouldn't have done as well. We fought all the time."

"Doesn't that make you just as bad as them?" she asked. "That's what my teacher says in school."

Severus nodded, casting a look in Hermione's direction. "You're probably right," he said in the same, gentle tone. "Maybe if I hadn't retaliated, they might have given up and let me in peace. Sometimes, the best thing to do is just to walk away when people are mean to you."

Rose looked unhappy. She was leaning her head on his shoulder, not minding that his hair was wet.

Severus sighed. "I know it's hard," he said. "I struggle to do it myself, I always have. But your mother is very good at it. And she got many friends out of that when she was young–good friends–and then it didn't hurt her so much that some people treated her badly. You see?"

"Mhm." Rose closed her eyes. "Your cheek is all scratchy," she whispered, ending their conversation. The frown on her face lingered, but some of the tension in her body seemed to have gone. Hermione breathed a small sigh.

They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the castle, Rose in deep though on Severus' back. When they reached the shrieking shack, Hermione could not help but peek over at him, starkly reminded of that day so many years ago. She wondered if he thought about it often and what he felt towards the place now, but he avoided both her gaze and the shack and all she could make out of his profile was that crooked nose of his.

There was a small flat part on the bridge of it and she could imagine his glasses coming to rest exactly at that spot. It looked nice, she decided, upon closer inspection, surprising herself with her own whimsy.

Yet the thought of him nearly dying was hard to shake. It had been a brutal experience. To be so young and watch someone she had known for years be slain in front of her very eyes. She still recalled the sound as his body hit the wall they hid behind, a dull thump of dead weight, and the scent of dust and blood as Harry knelt in front of the dying man.

He had been the brave one that day. It was another of her failures that she never thought to help their teacher. Harry did, however. He returned after the battle with a healer in tow, as ever ready to do what was right. She was ashamed to admit that the thought of helping Severus hadn't really crossed her mind that day. She had been too absorbed in Ron's loss, and Severus' death -or so she had thought at the time- had been just one more grief in a line that was much too long.

Now though, she couldn't think of anyone else besides Rose whom she judged as important to her as him. Despite her lingering guilt and the worrying new knowledge about Rose's social life, Hermione felt a new lightness in her chest.

There was something to be said about sharing the many joys and burdens of parenting and she hadn't realised until that moment that she had come to miss it deeply.

That, and she was falling for him. Hard.

"I can't believe the greasy git gave you detention."

No doubt, they were trying to be stealthy, hidden as they were in a nook by the Great Hall, but indignation made the adolescent voice carry further than was probably intended. Hermione gave Cavan a look and slowed her pace.

"Yeah, it was so totally unfair," said another student. "None of the other teachers are plain mean, like he is. If he has a bad day, all you have to do is drop your quill on the floor and he's at your throat at once."

This one obviously belonged to a girl, and Hermione frowned in concentration. She did not yet have full control of all the students' names as she only really came to know the ones that for some reason or other had to spend time in the Infirmary. The rest, she mostly picked up during staff meetings and from the numerous files in her bookcase.

"Wilson," muttered Cavan by her side. "Second-year Gryffindor."

"Right." She nodded. "And the other one? The girl. Bones, is it?"

"Also second-year." Cavan chuckled quietly. "Wonder who they're talking about, hm?"

Hermione sighed. "We can't have them slander a fellow professor like that," she said. "Points or detention?"

Cavan held up a hand. "Wait a minute," he said softly. "Let's just listen some more."

She conceded grudgingly, stilling her body to pick up on the quiet chatter.

"Maybe he has migraines," said the first voice and the boy, Wilson, chortled. "My aunt has them and she gets all moody and grouchy."

"I hope it's a lethal disease," said a third voice sullenly, and Hermione started. She knew this boy quite well, as he was both Harry's godson and a close family friend.

"That's Teddy."

Cavan gave her a measured look. He didn't comment, but moved closer to the corner, where the hem of a uniform peeked out together with a book bag that was tossed carelessly on the floor. She felt a stab of guilt for not putting an immediate end to the gossip, but for now, curiosity won out.

"The other professors don't like him either," said the girl. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "You all know about the boggart-thing, right? I heard it was a teacher. They hate him too."

"No surprise there," said the first boy, "but what do you mean, 'boggart-thing'?"

"Don't you know?" The girl snickered gleefully. "Apparently, someone placed a boggart in Snape's closet and he totally didn't know what to do about it. It's been all over the school for weeks, I can't believe you haven't heard already."

"What? I don't pay attention to every rumour about Snape." There was a prick of indignation in Teddy's voice. "I'd have time for nothing else."

"Well," the girl sounded slightly arrogant; she was no doubt enjoying being the one to hold all the juicy information. "The rumour says the other teachers are trying to get rid of him because he's so nasty. If we're lucky, Flitwick'll give him the sack."

"What's his boggart then?" asked the Wilson-boy in anticipation. "I hope it's really embarrassing. Was it shampoo? A giant toothbrush?"

The girl giggled. "You're not even going to believe it," she said, pausing for dramatic effect. "It's snakes!"

Mocking laughter broke out and Hermione felt her stomach sink. She knew about Severus and the boggart, of course, almost everyone in school did by now, but these kids were making light of the most gruesome wizard for centuries, too young and ignorant to know better. She had expected more from Bones, and at least from Teddy, who was well aware of Severus' story. At least, she noticed, he had gone quiet.

Wilson on the other hand, laughed loudly. "Who was the genius that placed it there?" he asked between snickers. "I want to buy them flowers, this is absolutely priceless!"

"They say it's Professor Hern," said the girl with fond reverence. "Isn't he the coolest teacher ever?"

"Ooh, but I know why you like him," said Wilson teasingly. "You're a girl and you're all in loove."

There was a smack, as though Bones swatted Wilson on the arm. "Shut it, Gavin," she grumbled. "Like you don't ogle the Matron whenever she is in the Library. I know you fancy her."

Hermione had just about had enough, and was on her way around the corner when the girl spoke softly once more.

"There are other rumours too, though…"

It was high time to intervene, but something about Bones' tone made her pause. It was a note of something more serious.

"What?" Wilson's voice still held traces of laughter, but the girl did not join in.

"They say he was a Death Eater," she whispered. "You know, one of…Voldemort's old assassins…"

"No way!" cried Wilson, his merry all but wiped away. "You're having me on. How come he's not in Azkaban then?"

Hermione felt Cavan shift behind her and she took a quick step forward, effectively fencing the students inside the little alcove.

"I think that's more than enough gossip for one night."

Three pairs of astonished eyes met her own and she placed her fisted hands firmly on her hips. "That's twenty points from Hufflepuff and ten from Gryffindor."

She gave Teddy, whose hair was now a pale blonde, a hard look. "And I'm going to talk to Harry about your nasty behaviour, Edward. It is not kind to slander others behind their backs."

Cavan, who had joined her side, pointed his finger at the girl. "And I don't appreciate you spreading unfounded rumours about me, Bones," he said sternly. "You should be grateful that Madam Granger decided to give you another chance. If I ever catch any of you in the act again, it's detention."

"Yes Professors." The kids all looked down on the floor, appearing suitably chastised. Teddy's ears had gone bright red and he pointedly avoided Hermione's gaze.

"Move along," said Cavan with a shooing motion. "Back to your Dorms. Find something useful to occupy your time. I'm sure you've all got homework."

They did not have to be asked twice and Cavan fell in to step beside her as Hermione started through the corridor.

"What was that all about," he asked her, sounding a little off-balance. "Is it true, what they said about Snape?"

"What?" Hermione realised she sounded more brusque than she probably should, but she was upset and a little angry, mostly with Teddy.

"They said he was a Death Eater in the war." Cavan watched her cautiously. "Is it true?"

"No, of course not," she said impatiently, continuing down the hall at a pace slightly above what was comfortable for talking. "He worked for Dumbledore, with intelligence and, I don't know, probably potions and the like."

"Oh."

She turned her head towards him, keeping half an eye on Hogwarts' treacherous steps. "You shouldn't listen to those kids," she said adamantly. "They're too small to understand it yet. It's an ordinary thing, really. Students make fun of their teachers all the time, and although I didn't participate much in stuff like that myself when I was young, I harbour no illusions. They're probably talking about you and me as well."

"Right." Cavan blinked at her, raising his hand slightly to ease her temper. She sighed.

"Sorry. It's not your fault and you don't need to hear my ranting. It just aggravates me that they're so flippant about it all. The war was horrible."

"I realise that." He watched her contemplatively. "Did you know that he is under supervision though? I caught him in the corridor some time back, with Harry Potter, of all people. Apparently, he is his parole officer."

"Sure." She waved a hand. "Harry is a close friend of mine. We went to school together." She chuckled. "Why are you so surprised? This is rather common knowledge."

He shrugged. "I hadn't known, is all. I suppose reading about it in the newspapers doesn't give the full picture. Remember I lived abroad for many years."

"Of course." She smiled. "Sorry. It's easy to forget about that when your English is flawless. You even have traces of a Cardiff accent."

"You've noticed, hm?" He seemed pleased. "Dad was from down there. It was even more pronounced when I was younger."

They had reached the Entrance Hall, where several students were chatting quietly along the stone benches that lined the arched windows. Hermione took a sharp left, heading for the downward stairs and Cavan followed, his sleek dark hair artfully combed away from his face. They passed a group of Slytherin sixth-years, all girls, and she could see them cast long glances after them as they went.

"You know," said Cavan quietly, "it requires a potioneer to handle that substance."

She frowned. "You're talking about the Angel's Trumpet now?"

"Yeah." He skipped a couple of steps to keep up with her. "Someone who's likely to also be a criminal. Your average grandma wouldn't purchase a thing like that."

She turned to him, incredulous. "You're not suggesting that Severus would do it, surely?"

"I don't really know him," said Cavan, watching her. "It seems to me he's the only one on staff with a history."

"If you did, you'd never say that," she said. "It's just not possible. Trust me on this one. He would never do anything to place his students at risk. He is very protective of them, even if he doesn't always sound like it." She slowed her pace a little, so that the impact of what she were saying would be clear.

"You know, he placed himself between me and a grown werewolf once. And if his boggart hadn't been Nagini, I'm sure that would have been it."

Cavan frowned. "Nagini?"

"The snake." She looked up at him, eager to change the topic. "By the way, did you find out anything? When you went to the Ministry, I mean?"

"Oh, that. No." He rubbed a hand over his brow, seeming a little distracted. "They're not too eager to start an investigation now. They're too busy worrying about the release from Azkaban early next year. It's quite a frenzy down there, actually."

"Oh, alright."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "But they did say that it was a good thing we reported it. You know, to avoid prosecutions against the school. We don't want to trade places with the Death Eaters, after all."

"Sure." She snorted a half-laugh. "But you learned nothing new about why it was forbidden then?"

He shook his head. "No. But I'll research it. I've just been so busy, but then you probably know all about my projects already."

"The duelling club?" She nodded. "I think it was a great idea. Although it was a little slippery of you to corner Severus like that. He couldn't really say no, now could he?"

Cavan chuckled good-naturedly. "Oh, come on," he said, "The old chap can take it. He is more than tough enough to deal with little me."

"Sure. Fine." She shook her head. "You boys just keep at it. Will you be starting up the club anytime soon?"

"No," said Cavan. "I've had to put it on hold until after Christmas. There has been some trouble with the gytrashes and my fifth-years are a little behind." He sighed. "Then there's the new project I've got myself involved in, and time just flies."

"Well, I know all about that," said Hermione. "What is this other project of yours?"

Cavan perked up. "A Christmas party," he said. "I'm arranging one for the staff together with Cormac. It'll be on the last weekend of term. Saturday." He smiled. "I'm counting on you to be there."

She nodded, only listening with half an ear, because her mind was on Severus again. Somehow, her thoughts always seemed to return to him.

What was it about him that caught her attention so? Enough to make her ignore the good-looking, kind, and generous Cavan altogether?

Cavan was charming, that was sure, and interested in her, that was also clear. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy spending time with him. He was pleasant and polite and he had not tried to approach her physically again since that awkward time in the Library.

But Severus…

It was a far stretch to call him handsome, but he was tall, and had broad shoulders, and strong thighs, and deep brown eyes that sometimes –if you paid attention– seemed like they held the full depth of his soul.

Although he did not hide himself quite as much from her as he had in the beginning, she still sometimes had the feeling that he was keeping things from her. But he was infuriating and sweet, all at once.

He didn't respond much to her advances, if she could at all call them that, and even if given indefinite time, she rather thought he'd never make a move when left to his own devices. It was both frustrating and a little unnerving. She was starting to wonder if his primary interest was in Rose, and it made her unjustifiably sad.

She supposed in the end, it would come down to her, if she ever got her act together. Oh, well. There was no rush. Maybe her chance would come during Cavan's Christmas party.

And speaking of Cavan… She looked up at him, suddenly realising that he had followed her all the way down to the Dungeons.

"Cavan? Where are you going?"

He arched an eyebrow, as though it was obvious. "I'm walking you home," he said, straight-faced. "Er, at least, that's what I thought I was doing. Where are you going anyway?"

She winced internally. Severus would not appreciate this. She should have tried to shake him off earlier, of course, but she had been too distracted by the gossiping students to notice what was happening. There was nothing for it now.

"Kitchens. I'm picking up Rose, she's having tea there with Severus tonight."

She looked away, careful to ignore Cavan's quite uncharacteristic and sudden scowl.

The kitchens were warm and quiet, and the clinking and bustling of the house elves had quieted down after the rush of activity that usually accompanied the evening meal in the Great Hall.

Severus looked up in anticipation when the portrait door opened, nudging Rose, who was munching quietly on a piece of cheese.

"Mum is here."

Rose smiled brightly, but Severus felt his face fall when another person entered through, close on Hermione's heels. He got up from his seat and straightened his coat.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked. She went over to stand beside him.

Severus nodded, watching as Hern took the seat next to Rose on the wooden bench.

"Sev'rus helped me with the geography quiz," said the girl, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "The capital of Germany is called Gerlin."

"Berlin," said Severus and Hermione together. "Napkin."

They exchanged an amused look as Rose wiped her face the proper way. Hern watched them with a small frown on his face.

"There were some students gossiping in the corridors, Severus," he said. "I suppose you can guess who they were talking about…"

He narrowed his eyes, unsure what Hern's point was. The students had always been spreading rumours about him and calling him names, this was nothing new. Regardless, he couldn't say he appreciated to know that Hermione had overheard any of that. Whatever they had said, it wasn't flattering, that much was certain.

"They mentioned something about your past," said Hern, watching him. Hermione frowned and he shrugged airily. "Anyway, we docked points and if it ever happens again, I'll give them detention. I'm sure you wouldn't like to have nasty rumours circulating."

"They'll do it anyway," said Severus, sure there was a hint at something here that he ought to understand. He had no idea what it could be, however. Most things about his past life had been widely spread in the newspapers following the Death Eater trials back in '98.

"So, Rose." Hern folded his hands on the table, looking down at the girl. "It's Saturday tomorrow," he said. "And the forecast is good, for once. I thought maybe you would like to join me on the Quidditch pitch and fly?"

Rose blinked and looked quickly in Hermione's direction, her eyes gleaming. "Yes," she squealed. "Oh, yes. Can I?"

Hermione gave a hesitant nod, her eyes flicking once to Severus, meeting his gaze. He quickly looked away to conceal his expression.

She sighed subtly. "Yes, I suppose you can." She glanced over at Hern. "When would-"

The man gave a radiant grin. "Anytime is fine," he said generously. "I usually go out to get some fresh air and exercise on the weekends anyway. I'm always feeling a little cooped up, spending so much time in my office. Being a teacher doesn't really provide the physical activity I'm used to."

Rose clapped her hands together. "Oh, thank you!" She jumped up and down, looking between them. "I'm so excited. I don't think I can wait. Oh! Mum, but I don't have a broom. Severus, do you have a broom? I've never seen you with one. Do you think we can borrow from the school?"

Severus grimaced. He had not expected her to include him in the shenanigans and the situation was quickly becoming awkward.

"No, I don't," he said uncertainly, keeping his gaze clear off Hermione and Hern. "But I'm sure you can borrow one…"

He cast a subtle glance at Hern, whose eyes had darkened. Rose was watching them and she faltered for a moment, looking between them.

"Not so loud," said a grumpy-looking elderly elf from the corner and her attention was broken.

"Sorry," she whispered, contrite. She was a little afraid of them.

Cavan grimaced, giving the elf a small smile. "They're a little less lenient with the staff than the students, I've noticed."

"Yeah." Hermione took Rose's hand. "But it's alright."

Rose watched the elf for another moment before she once again picked up speed. "Maybe I can borrow Teddy's broom," she said. "Do you think he'll lend it to me, Mum?" She looked up. "Oh, no matter, I'll use one from school, that's okay too. You think I can, Cav? I can't believe we're all going." She grinned. "And I can't wait to tell Dad about it."

Hern smiled at her, but Hermione must have noticed Severus' wariness because she tugged gently on Rose's arm, leading her towards the exit.

"Alright, young lady," she said, "I think it's bedtime soon. And you need a bath. I'm sure we can figure all of this out tomorrow." She shot Severus an apologetic look.

Cavan got up, giving him a smug salute on his way and they left in the manner they had arrived –together.

Severus watched the closed portrait hole in silence.

Apparently, Hern had decided to put in effort to befriend Rose, probably in an attempt to gain Hermione's favours.

He did not think that would be particularly difficult for the young man. For really, Hern was right, he was not much of a competition. A washed-out potions teacher, well used, and slightly fraying at the corners. Were he a book, he'd be in the five-sickle-box in Flourish and Blotts, quite possibly at the very bottom.

She on the other hand was brilliant. A warm, light soul. Caring and gentle. They weren't easily compared. It was no wonder he found it difficult to approach her in the way he really wanted. He had no idea how to deal with it all. All he knew was that once again, he was in deep trouble, and his heart was no longer his.

His best hope was probably that Hern would tire of teaching and leave the school for a better job before Hermione came to love him. But in any case, he was a bit too old for her as well, if he was going to be honest about it. However, he didn't see the need to point that out on top of everything else.

Times of stress were not easy on him since the war, his strength would never be quite what it used to be. And there had already been so much this term, with Hern and his inquisitiveness, and constantly being on guard against the Ministry, and at the same time hiding his feelings for Hermioine. He needed a holiday, preferably a nice and quiet one.

Everything was so much easier with the little girl. Her childish honesty gave him confidence because he knew that her affections were unconditional and unassuming.

He sat back down with a sigh and picked at some of the leftovers from Rose's plate, contemplating if he should put the dishes on the kitchen counter and brush the bread crumbs off the table.

It almost seemed like too much of a bother just then and were he in his own quarters, he would most likely have left them there. As it were, the grumpy old elf was already giving him a fixed stare.

But before he had time to clean up, the portrait slid open once more to reveal Rose's red, bushy head. This time though, she didn't bounce. Instead, there was something sad about the tilt of her bright eyes.

"What's the matter?" He frowned, casting his eyes around for the stuffed teddy she favoured these days. "Did you forget something?"

She came over to his chair, which brought her close to eye-level when he was sitting.

"You're not coming, are you?"

Her voice was quiet. She started to pick on the hem of his cloak, not meeting his gaze.

"Mm." He folded his hands in his lap, feeling keenly the guilt of letting her down, but also sorely aware that his presence at the outing would be unwelcome.

"No, I suppose I'm not."

She sighed and looked up. There was a tiny wrinkle over her nose, as though she were remorseful. "I only just realised. Can I see you another day instead?"

Silly girl. Did she not know that she could take anything she wanted from him?

"Of course, Rose. Anytime." He stirred to tuck some of her unruly hair behind her ear. "You can come down on Sunday instead, if you want."

She looked up, her tiny hand still making feather light traces on his shoulder. "Promise?"

He shook his head at her. "Yes, you sweet child, I promise."

Her mouth tilted upwards at one corner, ever so slightly. "Cross your heart?"

He chuckled and made a cross over his chest with his hand. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Apparently, that was all the reassurance Rose needed. She grinned full on and threw her small arms around his neck in a fierce hug before skipping towards the portrait hole with renewed vigour.

"I love you, Sev'rus, goodnight," she chirped, so carefree that it made his heart seize, and gone she was, without waiting for him to respond.

He was almost inclined to think she wanted to spare him the fluster of coming up with a sensible reply to that. But the thought, of course, was ludicrous.

She couldn't possibly know that she was the first person to ever say those words to him.