A/N

Four chapters left is my new estimate. It's impossible to know really because they keep getting longer than I expect. In any case, I've figured that a few of the things I had planned are better suited for a potential sequel. Or something. As always, thanks for reading!

After five nights with the Weasleys, Hermione's head was spinning from all the talk about Quidditch. But she had known all along that it was inevitable from the moment when she decided to accept the offer of staying at the Burrow over Christmas as usual. With both Ron and his girlfriend, Gwen, as professional players and with Ginny as game correspondent for the Daily Prophet, the topic rarely strayed far from everyone's favourite sport. Neither did it help much that Angelina was just as obsessed, and that the only way to silence all of the children at once seemed to be by entertaining them with lively descriptions of 'Dionysus Dives' and 'Wronski Feints' and 'Woollongong Shimmies'. Luckily, Molly, George and Harry seemed to value other things in life, and also to appreciate that Hermione felt the same way.

But for Gwen, that situation was probably a relief as it gave her some common ground with her in-laws. She was still new in the family, young –she didn't look a day above twenty-two- and rather shy. Like Hermione, she had come from a small family, with no siblings and only a couple of cousins, whom all had spent Gwen's entire childhood living in Austria. The introduction to the Weasley family must have been somewhat of a shock even though they were more than used to accepting new family members into their fold, and had greeted her with their usual bustling curiosity.

"Are you going directly to Hogwarts tomorrow, Hermione?"

They were sitting around the dining table on New Year's Eve, and Hermione had made sure to place herself between Molly and Harry, both to get easier access to the children's table, and for the company.

Harry watched her put her fork down and swallow her bite. "There are still a couple of days before the start of term. I imagine you're longing for some solitude by now, hm?" He grinned.

"Rubbish," said Molly from her other side. "Don't tell me you're going back to that cottage all by yourself?"

"Of course not." Hermione chuckled. "Rose is coming too. And I need to check on it in any case. I left the heating on in the kitchen and I need to turn it off. We probably won't be back until Easter."

Molly shuddered. "Isn't it dreary?" she asked with a dramatic frown. "It's so dark up there now. So far away. Aren't you afraid?"

"She does know how to apparate, Molly." Harry shrugged. "I think it's very charming. If you're into the whole picturesque, nature-y kind of thing."

Hermione laughed. "You're one to speak about dreary, Harry. You lived at Privet Drive your entire childhood." She nudged Molly's elbow. "Ottery isn't exactly the centre of the universe either, you know. But at least it's got some interesting people."

"Well, I live at Grimmauld now." Harry grimaced. "I guess you could say that the building is interesting…"

"I'll give you that, Harry." Molly smiled at Hermione around a sip of red wine. "How is life at Hogwarts then, dear? Filius doing all right? Severus? Sybill?"

"Oh, they're all well." Hermione tried to smile back, suddenly feeling a little shy. "As far as I know at least. I haven't really spoken with any of them since the end of term."

"They're spending their holidays at the castle?" Molly waved Arthur off as he tried to pass her the potatoes. "Terribly strong work ethics on those teachers." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I'm surprised. They've always been like that."

"Well, I don't think they particularly mind." Hermione shrugged. "Granted, Filius is in Bristol with his family, but both Severus and Sybill are at Hogwarts. Someone has to watch over the remaining students."

"The nutty fraud's still teaching, is she?" Charlie asked from the other side of the table. "And the vampire bat as well?"

"Oh, but Sybill is charming really," said Molly with a slight frown at her son's playful grin. "She's loyal and quite powerful with magic, you know. And Severus, I know you all think of him as nothing but a grumpy old schoolteacher, but I'll tell you, he is hands down the best potioneer I've ever met."

"I assure you," muttered Hermione, "I hold him in very high regard."

Harry gave her a sideways glance and a smirk. She huffed.

"He was still a git when last I saw him," said Charlie lightly. "Potions are for sissies anyway."

George, who sat beside him, snorted. Unless it sprouted smoke and fire and tried to devour him upon first contact, Charlie wasn't much impressed by anything.

"Just because you flunked."

"Well, you dropped out of school altogether." Charlie grinned. "You're not much better."

"And look where it got me," said George with mock sadness. His business in Diagon Alley was flourishing as never before.

"Yes, brilliant, I'd say," continued Molly as though she hadn't heard them. "And I know a thing or two about potions myself. He's always helpful should I need his advice. In fact, I wanted to visit him just after the children got home to get his help in modifying a remedy I'm devising. But he wasn't feeling well, so I was meant to come back later." She looked around the table with a wry laugh. "Then Christmas happened."

Hermione whipped her head around. "What? You mean he was ill again?" Her voice had gone slightly shrill and Molly sent her a puzzled look.

"Yes, I suppose… Again? What do you-?"

"Nothing," she hurried to say. "It's nothing, ah... I was a bit surprised, that's all…"

Molly nodded placidly. "I don't think you should worry," she said. "People catch the odd flu from time to time. He works with children, after all, and he's hardly a young man anymore."

She winced and glanced behind them at the smaller table in the corner, where little Albus had just sneezed loudly onto Rose's plate.

"And neither am I, I should know."

Hermione watched Rose as she calmly wiped stray snot from her fork and continued to eat.

"Yes, I know," she said, "it's just…" She turned to whisper to Harry on her other side.

"Harry, do you know anything about this?"

"What?" He shook his head at her. "Of course not. He's allowed a sick day now, isn't he? What's the big deal?"

"I suppose…" She sighed. "I don't know, I just…"

Harry chuckled. "You like him," he said evenly. "It's only natural for you to be concerned."

"Quiet, Harry. Please." She mashed her foot into his shin beneath the table and looked around surreptitiously. Luckily, everyone else seemed to have turned their eyes towards Ron, who stood from his seat to tap his knife against the rim of his glass.

"I have an announcement," he said proudly and Hermione felt her eyes widen. She knew Molly must have been thinking along the same lines as her, because her knuckles suddenly whitened around the stilt of her glass.

"I got an owl from my manager today," continued Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance with Molly. The relationship between Gwen and Ron was still fresh, but more interesting news would have been welcome. They both shook their heads fondly.

"I have been made captain of the national team." Ron grinned and Gwen looked up at him affectionately. "Starting with the match against Romania next month. I even get a say-so as to who gets picked out on the team."

"Congratulations, Dad!" Rose jumped up from her seat and ran to hug him around the waist and the adults raised their glasses, commending Ron for being a superb strategist and well suited to the task.

With everyone else distracted, Harry leaned closer to poke Hermione in the side. "Did you make any headway?" he asked in a put-upon whisper. "With Severus, I mean. I assume you two spoke at the party back at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, we did." Hermione rubbed a hand over her brow and tangled it into her bushy hair. "Sort of…"

Harry's expression turned serious. "What do you mean?"

She twisted up her face. "He tried to tell me something," she muttered. "And I think it was important, but we were interrupted and…" She sighed. "Well, I got the impression that there's something holding him back..."

"As in, from the two of you being together?"

"Well, we haven't exactly reached that point yet, now have we?" She grimaced. "I don't know, Harry. He never got that far, alright? But, yes, I think so."

Harry blinked and shook his head. "What? But why?"

"I told you. I don't know." She dropped her hand from her hair and started to twist her napkin around. "But it bothers me and I can't help thinking he's not really interested in me in that way."

It was an understatement. She had all but agonised over it, thinking about it from this end and that, and could only conclude that to save her dignity, she wold have to treat him as her friend and nothing more until he made a move in the contrary.

But Harry groaned at her. "Come on, Hermione." He almost hissed out the words. "It's all over his face. How can you possibly think he's not-"

"Listen," she said firmly, "it sounded like he was about to tell me that we're better off apart. And after, he ran for it as though he wanted to avoid me. It would be terribly awkward for me to make yet another move."

She looked away at Ron as he opened a bottle of sparkling wine. "I'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all…"

"Who's your friend?" Rose wriggled her way in between them and climbed onto Harry's lap. Hermione forced herself to smile.

"Severus is," said Harry below the sounds of celebration around them. "He's your friend as well, Rose, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's my Sev'rus too," confirmed Rose. She picked up Harry's wine glass to give it an experimental sniff. "Do you think we can visit him tomorrow, Mum? I wish we could."

"I know, but I don't have time tomorrow, Rose." Hermione took the glass from her hand before she could take a sip. "In the morning is the ice skating trip with your cousins and I have an appointment for work in the evening, remember?"

Rose's face lit up. "But then I can go see him in the evening, can't I? You don't have to babysit me, Mum, you know that."

"Right…" Hermione exchanged a wry look with Harry, but his grin quickly turned into something wicked.

"Oh, but that's a great idea, Hermione," he said in a silky voice. "Ask Severus to babysit her then. I'm sure he'd be delighted to."

She winced. "I don't know…"

"Yes, you do." Harry squeezed Rose's arms. "Want to help me send him a patronus message?"

"Harry!" Hermione scowled, but Rose broke into a delighted smile.

"Yes!"

"You should just ask him about it," said Harry over Rose's head. "This is a golden opportunity. In fact, I want you to promise me that you do. I'm pretty certain you've got the wrong idea. Severus isn't the kind of man to just-"

"Ask him what?" Rose looked between them, suddenly serious. "What did he do?"

"Nothing, honey." Harry stroked Rose's hair. "It's just your Mum who's being a little silly." He gave Hermione a sharp look. "Promise me."

"Oh, alright." She huffed. "If you insist. I guess there's nothing to lose but my pride…"

"Exactly." Harry grinned at her and lifted Rose up. He carried her to Ron's side again and put her down next to Gwen before patting Ron on the shoulder.

Hermione sighed. Rose was watching Gwen from the corner of her eye as the adults raised their glasses once more. Their relationship was still tentative. Gwen was friendly and sweet, but her shyness sometimes seemed to inhibit her, especially in front of Ron's only child. It was understandable, but maybe that made Rose a little shy as well, although she'd never had that problem with Severus, who could be even more reserved than Gwen. Perhaps they just hadn't had enough time on their own.

Hermione watched Rose shoot her a glance and turn back to regard Gwen with a thoughtful expression.

Sometimes children were just too perceptive for their own good.

Hermione had entrusted him with the location of a small cottage on the western shore of the Isle of Skye and his apparation made the salty air around him crackle.

He found himself standing on a snow-clad slope that lead onto the shore some hundred feet below in front of a low stone cottage with a wooden entrance painted in moss green. Light grey smoke rose from the chimney only to be carried off by a biting gust.

Severus' cloak whipped around him as turned around himself in a circle. He cast his eye on the moor and the dark, blue sea, and could imagine the deep green of the moss and heather beneath the snow and how the waves would break white against the sharp cliffs on stormy November nights. An odd, harsh call made him turn his head just in time to see a heron take flight from the rocky beach below. The beat of its wings were slow, almost languid, and it pulled its long neck back as it soared across the water.

This place…something like this was what he wanted, he realised. The weather was perhaps a little strict at times, and the ocean traitorous, but he was no seaman in any case and the chill of winter would not bother him. It was peaceful and quiet, all he could ever ask for, and he could sit at the window in the brightly lit kitchen with his tea and never have to duel a single thing again in his life…

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

He looked to the left a little to find Hermione watching him from the door. She was backlit by the warm glow form a fire and had her shoulder propped up against the wall. He inclined his head.

"Very."

"I was here on a holiday with my parents once," she said. "At Staffin. It's a bit north of here, on the other side." She waved a slim hand over her shoulder. "They used to travel everywhere. My Mum wanted to see the Mesolithic settlements."

"Really?"

She put her feet into a pair of clogs that looked like they had been yellow once upon a time and picked her way across the snow to stand beside him. She looked like she belonged here with her wild hair whipping into her face.

"But that wasn't even the most interesting. There are dinosaur footprints at the beach up there, did you know?"

He looked down at her, oddly soothed by her habit of unnecessary talking. "I had no idea."

"And see here." She pointed at the low stone fence facing the bay, where he could see what looked like tiny black and white fossils sheathed within the wall. "They are from the Jurassic. Over a hundred million years old. Isn't it fascinating?" She shivered.

She seemed…a little nervous perhaps. But he was a little nervous as well. When they last parted, he had been about to reveal himself to her, and he had barely thought about anything else over the holidays. But then he hadn't seen her since, and when Potter's flamboyant stag had galloped through his door the day before, that night had suddenly felt like it was a long time ago.

"I'll take you some time," said Hermione. "To Staffin, I mean." She smiled in a way that made his chest twist up. "But it's nicer in summer. Come inside, it's cold out."

He followed Hermione's example and left his boots by the door. Then he found a coatrack, one that looked like it was made out of driftwood, and left his cloak and jacket there. He didn't feel like he needed an invitation to use the sofa, so he sat down, taking in the comfortable fireplace, the small kitchen with white lace curtains, and the telly that stood on a low wooden table in the corner. To his left, stretching above the doorway to the kitchen, was a narrow staircase to the first floor.

"How are you, Severus?" Hermione brought a kettle out and placed a teacup in front of him. She watched him through the corner of her eye as she poured.

"Same old. And yourself?" He found it a little odd that she would return to platitudes after inviting him on a trip to Staffin just moments before, but he shook it off. It wasn't unusual that she would be the one to take charge of their conversations.

"I've been fine." She sat on a chair opposite him and made a mug for herself as well. "It's been some time since I saw you…"

The space between them was suddenly loaded with all the things that had been left unsaid. Severus watched his cup. It was hot; too hot to grasp as hard as he did now, but his hands had a high tolerance for heat.

"I meant to write to you," Hermione said quietly, "but the Burrow is a…busy place to live."

He cleared his voice. "I can only imagine…"

"Right." She seemed to gather herself as though preparing to take a leap, and he felt his shoulders stiffen.

"We were cut short last time." She folded her hands in her lap. "I felt that perhaps- That maybe you had something on your chest." She tilted her head and the light from the fire caught in her eyes. "Is there something I should know about?"

The heat from his cup became unbearable and he had to put it down. He didn't want to take the coward's way. He'd done that more than once in the past, and it never lead anywhere. What he wanted was to carve a path that they could follow together, but right then, he found he couldn't be pushed. The conversation with Potter was too fresh on his mind. He was taken too much by surprise.

"I- It wasn't anything important." He couldn't look her in the eye. "Don't worry yourself over that. It really wasn't important."

She shrugged, as though to say 'oh, alright', but the set of her jaw indicated that she had expected more from him. He swallowed.

"Where's Rose?"

"Bathroom." She smiled valiantly. "I asked her to change into her nighties so that you only have to help her brush her teeth. Oh, here she is now."

Just then, Rose ran into the room like a breath of fresh air and launched herself at his lap full-force. She secured her balance with a small hand on each of his shoulders.

"Oof!" His spontaneous smile seemed impossible to restrain. He wanted to crush her in a tight hug the way she would sometimes do to him and take in the smell of crayons and summer that seemed to cling to her even though it was the middle of the darkest winter and she might not have been drawing today at all. He would have done it too, had he not been so keenly aware of Hermione, who had stood from her seat and was watching them from the door to the kitchen.

"Hello, Rose," he said, and tried to put this tender feeling into his words instead.

"Sev'rus." She graced him with a radiant grin and pressed her forehead to his so that her flyaway hair brushed against his cheek. "I missed you."

He adjusted one of her pointy knees, which had wedged itself into his thigh. "And I missed you, you little firebolt. Did you have a good holiday?"

"I played with Aunt Ginny's kitten," she said in her clear voice, as though that summed everything up nicely. Severus chuckled.

"Alright. What else did you do?"

She pulled away and thought for a moment, fingering with the cuffs on his shirt. "We went on a sledge…Dad and Uncle Harry built a jump, but it was too big. Al went on it once, by mistake, and he fell off and started to bleed from his nose." Her eyes widened. "Grandma gave him cotton to put up his nostril."

"Did she?" He made his expression to mimic hers. "That's clever. She has fixed many a nose in her life, I'm sure."

Rose nodded. "Mhm. And then, Aunt Angie made soup. It had spices in it. I don't like them very much, but I'm not supposed to say that." She looked over at Hermione warily.

She was watching them with interest, seeming to take in her daughter's words as though they had not been given a chance to sit down and just talk during their family celebration.

"It's okay, Rose. You can tell him." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I just thought it was rude to say so directly to Angelina."

"I know, Mum." Rose leaned closer to Severus. "But it was James who said it first."

The words, whispered clumsily and very close to his ear, made him twist out of her reach. Rose giggled.

"I heard that. And it isn't an excuse." Hermione raised her eyebrows at them in question.

"Sev'rus is ticklish," said Rose triumphantly. There was a playful spark in her eyes that he hadn't been privy to until then.

"No, he isn't." Severus grasped both of her arms and struggled to keep his facial expression as neutral as possible. "You're delusional."

Rose giggled even more and squirmed so that he had to struggle to keep her off.

"He seems very ticklish." Hermione's voice was suddenly very close. "Now, if that isn't useful information…"

"I'm not, I- Ah, don't! Traitor!"

As he focused his efforts on fending off Hermione's attack, Rose managed to get access to his ribs. But he had to be careful not to jostle them too harshly, and he soon ended up with Hermione straddling his thighs with a firm grasp on each of his arms.

"No," he panted, "stop it. I surrender."

They both stilled and Hermione and Rose's giggles slowly faded, but instead of pulling off him, Hermione remained in place, watching him with an odd expression.

"What?"

He tried to straighten up a little, but he was too closely wedged into the cushions of the sofa and the movement only served to bring them closer. He could see every freckle on her cheeks and every spot of amber in her eyes, and her breath smelled of mouthwash, the extra strong kind that makes your tongue burn and your eyes water, and which, if he was to be honest, he probably hadn't tried more than once or twice in his life…

"I've just never seen you laugh like that before…"

Her voice was breathy. She looked him directly into the eyes and the moment suddenly seemed too intimate to share with a child nearby. After another heartbeat, she climbed to her feet and straightened her clothes.

Unsure what to do with himself, he turned towards Rose, who was perched on top of the armrest near his head.

"So are you looking forward to go back to school again?" he asked her. She looked down on him as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"I want to be on a holiday always," she said, tugging on his hair a little. "But I also want to be with you."

"Well, you can have him all to yourself tonight." Hermione checked her watch. "Oh, tosh. I'm late."

Rose straightened. "When will you be back?"

"After you're asleep, honey. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Are you aparcating?"

"I'm apparating, yes."

"To London?"

"Yes." Hermione smiled at her and shook her head. "I've already told you. We're going to the Leaky."

"We?" Severus cleared his throat. He had not meant to voice his question aloud, but there it was.

"Oh..." Hermione frowned. "That will be…it's Cavan, actually. We're going to-"

She must have seen his face fall because she faltered as well and fumbled with her boots.

"It's work-related, of course," she said quickly, "we're just going through some…" She sighed. "It's a long story, Severus. But I'll tell you all about it later, I have to go. I should have been there ten minutes ago…"

"Of course." He tried to brush off the crushing disappointment and stood to offer her a steadying hand. "Don't worry about it, we'll be fine." He turned to look down at Rose. "Won't we?"

"Sure." Rose gave Hermione a quick hug around the waist and waited patiently as she received a kiss to her nose in turn.

"Be good to Severus," said Hermione. "No more tickling. And go to bed when he says so."

Rose nodded and ran off, and Hermione leaned on Severus' arm as she struggled into her footwear.

"Thanks for this."

Her words were spoken softly –almost like a whisper- and he had to bend a little closer to her. "For what?"

"For coming. For taking the time for her." She smiled in that way that made her nose wrinkle up. "She really appreciates you, you know." His heart lurched threateningly when she leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "I do too. You are my closest friend, after all."

With that, she turned to leave. He held the door open for her and watched her go right until the crack and the flurry of her brown wool cloak accompanied her apparatiton.

Despite the easy way she still teased him, the ground under his feet felt somehow unsecure. Was this perhaps a hint that she regarded him as her friend, and only that? Was it wrong of him to want more when she had just told him she valued him next to, or even above, her other acquaintances?

He couldn't help but wonder if her tally included Hern.

He sank back into the sofa. Behind him, Rose came down from the first floor, dragging a small bag behind her. She stopped in front of him and poured an assorted collection onto the rug on the floor. A couple of dolls, some books, a variety of magical and non-magical animals, and a fire truck.

"You can be Lady Marian," she said, as though it was the most natural thing in the word. She held out the largest doll for him and picked up a plastic tiger. "I'll be Norman. I have wings and a horn, like a unicorn, and when I'm angry I…" She looked up at him and suddenly broke off. A small frown crept onto her little face and she moved closer to his knee.

"Why are you sad?"

He looked up from the doll, which seemed dainty and miniscule between his large hands. "I look sad, hm?"

"Yes." Rose put the tiger away and crawled up on the sofa next to him to rest her head on his upper arm. "You have a line on your face." She reached up to put her finger at a spot between his eyes. "Right there. It makes you look angry even when you're not. But right now it's mostly sad."

He snorted. "Is it now?"

"Sev'rus?" She leaned back a little to look up at him.

"Yes?"

"Uncle Harry talked to Teddy about you. I wasn't supposed to hear, but I did anyway…"

She trailed off and he put his arm around her shoulder lightly. "What is it?"

She bit her lower lip, as though she wasn't sure if she should tell him or not. "He said that Teddy did something wrong," she said eventually, "but then Teddy said that you were mean." She frowned. "Why did he say that?"

"Oh…"

He didn't really know what she was referring to, but chances were that little Lupin had made some sort of complaint about him. It wouldn't be the first time, and was probably also not to be the last. Lupin was too alike his father and reminded him of a past he would rather have forgotten about. Apparently, the dislike was mutual.

"I'm his teacher, Rose," he said, and felt ever so slightly like a hypocrite. "I try not to be mean to him, but sometimes I have to take points away or give him detention if he does not do his schoolwork properly. Do you think that was what they were talking about?"

"I don't know." She thought for a moment. "But if he says that you did something wrong and you say that he did something wrong, who is right then?" She sounded slightly anxious. "I don't understand…"

"I don't know either." He sighed. "But do you think that both of us might have been a little wrong each? Everyone makes mistakes sometimes."

"Even you?"

"Especially me."

Rose was silent for some time after that, longer than what was really ordinary for her, but Severus leaned back into the sofa, comfortable with avoiding his alter ego 'Marian' for another moment or two.

"Mum doesn't really like him," Rose finally said. The indecisiveness had vanished from her face and her little hand was playing confidently with the buttons on his shirt. "I don't mean that she doesn't like him, but she doesn't like him either."

He was appropriately confused. "Teddy?"

"No, of course not." She shook her head against his arm. "Cav."

"She doesn't?" he croaked.

"I don't know." Rose shrugged. "She always has to hurry when he's around…"

He felt very much thrown off guard by that and watched her in silence as she bent to the floor to pick up one of the books that had been in her bag.

"Read to me?"

She put it in his lap. It was the same one that they had read before, and their spot was marked neatly with a yellow Post-it. One of Hermione's.

"I might as well..."

He picked up his glasses and put them on his nose. It felt like a leaden weight had lifted from his chest and he held Rose tightly when she snuggled into his side.

"I talked to my old partner and he said that the French Ministry keeps tally on the suppliers that deliver to the British Isles." Cavan took a deep sip from his beer. "Usually, there are only two strains, one is muggle and synthetically produced, that's just the pure toxin. The other, the dried flower powder, is much more dangerous…"

The Leaky Cauldron was filled to the brim with Christmas music and holiday guests, the perfect place for a conversation best kept between two. Cavan had pulled her into a hug and declared his stay in France to be boring without her, leaving her flustered and a little shy as per usual.

But this time she had made up her mind. She knew she needed to get him out of the way. Even if Severus hadn't wanted to tell her what was bothering him, the way his face had paled when she told him who she was going out with was a message as clear as any. He always tensed up when Cavan came into a room, or even if only his name was mentioned.

And he just had to ask her, didn't he?

It almost made her smile. Yes, she had made up her mind, but first they needed to get the ever-annoying budget business out of the way. Truth be told, she had lost interest in the mystery as soon as the entries in the Infirmary's bookkeeping had stopped, but Cavan was still going strong.

"And why is it forbidden in Britain then?" She dipped a finger into the foam on her own pint and tasted yeast and citrusy hops.

"Voldemort used it in the war." Cavan scowled over his shoulder to where and elderly woman with purple hair was watching him with a scandalised expression. Many people still favoured the less laden 'you-know-who'.

"It's a nerve toxin," he continued in a more quiet tone, "so it's capable of killing a large number of muggles by poisoning, for instance, their drinking water."

"Right."

"It's…" He frowned and pushed a lock of wavy hair out of his eyes. "That way it doesn't really require someone who is familiar with potions to use it, but I do think…"

"Cavan!" she hissed, "don't tell me you're still thinking about Severus! Honestly!"

"I… no, I suppose not." He sighed and made a non-committal shrug of his shoulders. "It would have made sense if he'd had some connection to the Death Eaters, but… Considering who his boggart is, it's probably unlikely."

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" She huffed. "To what end? Did you expect to learn something incriminating about him?"

Cavan merely grinned with his annoyingly white teeth. "Boggarts are useful creatures…"

"Come on." She snorted. "Why would someone need a nerve agent in a school full of children?"

"Why indeed?" He raised a neatly groomed eyebrow. "It seems unlikely that it is supposed to be used there, doesn't it?"

She shook her head. "But why would anyone need it at all? Unless…"

"Unless they were planning to kill people off without anyone finding out who did it?" His eyes widened innocently and she nearly growled.

"But who would do something like that?"

"You do know what happens in two months' time, don't you?"

"Of course I do. The Death Eaters, but-"

"Avery, Malfoy, Rosier, Lestrange, Greyback. They're all coming out of Azkaban."

"Really?" She narrowed her eyes sceptically. "Their nails are clipped, their wings are shorn. They can't even use their wands."

"I know." He paused when their food arrived at the table. Their waitress gave him a sweet smile in parting and he winked at her before turning back to Hermione. "I'm thinking more about someone on the outside. Voldemort-" he peeked at the old lady with the purple hair again, but she was busy minding her own business. "Voldemort had many followers and not all of them were Death Eaters or snatchers…"

"I guess you're right, but who?" Hermione cut into her pie. It tasted greasy and salty after a week of being spoiled by Molly and she had to wash it down with beer. "Their children are supposedly reformed and the snatchers are all imprisoned or under surveillance."

Cavan grimaced at his own meal and put the cutlery down. "I don't know…"

They sat in contemplative silence for some time, until a sickly romantic tune on the radio made Hermione remember her mission.

"Listen, Cavan. About this-" She waved an arm between them helplessly. "There is something I want to get out of the way, but I don't know how to put it without being too bold."

"Yes?" He watched her, quite relaxed, but she had the impression that he knew exactly what she was hinting at.

"Okay. I'm ah-." She laughed a nervous little laugh. "I'm not looking for a relationship…with you." She winced. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." He grinned, and it actually seemed genuine. "I've kind of figured that out by myself…"

"Oh." Her fork scraped against her plate. "I thought… At the Christmas party you acted as though…"

"I know." Cavan shifted a little, seeming as close to shy as he could probably ever get. "He likes you too, you know." He scoffed. "Snape. Or perhaps I should say he likes you even more."

Her cheeks heated and she picked up her napkin to hide behind. "What?"

"I enjoy busting his arse about it, I suppose." Cavan didn't seem to notice her fluster. He drummed his nails against the tabletop and watched the people around them. "Always been a little competitive."

She gave a very unladylike snort. "So that's what all this was about? A competition?"

"I think you're very pretty, Hermione." He turned to look her in the eye and smiled. "And I enjoy your company. But…" He shrugged. "I suppose I'm not accustomed to being turned down."

"You're not saying." She shook her head, a little baffled. "I don't know if I should feel used or relieved."

He scoffed. "Why not just flattered?"

"Maybe…" She looked up at him, and the small smile that tugged on his lips. She smiled as well, and shrugged. "I suppose I could be..."

"Friends then?" He held out his hand.

She nodded and they shook as though they were meeting for the very first time.

She returned home just past twelve o'clock. Cavan had offered to take her, but she had laughed it off, insisting that she was a big girl and skilled at protecting herself.

The cottage was silent and dark apart from the kitchen, the only room where she had electrical lighting. She removed her shoes by the door and tiptoed into the lounge, where she could see the indistinct outline of Severus' head against the back of the sofa. There were only embers left in the fireplace.

She put in another couple of logs and blew life into them with the old bellow she kept in the copper bucket they used for firewood. Only when the flames licked against the sooty bricks inside the hearth did she turn.

Severus was fast asleep. He had untucked his shirt, opened the topmost two buttons and rolled the sleeved up to his elbows. On the coffee table was a cup of cold tea and an opened packet of her favourite shortbread, which she usually kept in the topmost drawer next to the stove. The thought of him taking liberties in her kitchen made her inexplicably pleased.

She pulled out a biscuit for herself as silently as she could manage and sank into the sofa next to him. He looked so calm. The fire crackled and she could feel the warmth seeping in to her body, both from the fire and from the man snoring quietly next to her.

She should wake him, she really should. But she didn't want to.

He would have a crick in his back come morning, and her neck would probably be sore as well, but she found it a small price to pay if she could steal a few precious moments of peace. She wanted him exactly like this. On her sofa, in her home, with her.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and didn't even notice when her eyes drooped shut.