A/N: Oh my gosh HELLO. Sorry for the delayed update but let's just say IRL it's been an absolute shit show of a week and I was very sad and therefore didn't wanna read about people being all happy and stuff. But we're back, I'm okay (or I will be), and I'm very glad to be bringing this next chapter to you all. My goal for the next chapter is not this coming Sunday but the next one, but that might be delayed. In addition to my own life and issues, it's a busy time of year for everyone and I want to make sure my betas have the time to take with this while balancing their own busy lives. But don't worry; the whole thing is written and I would not abandon it. We may just have to go to every other week if that's what's needed. I'll try to keep you posted, I wish there was a more central way to do that, but I do post updates on Facebook and Twitter.

Beta love to photon08 and aureliandreams and my alpha girl sleeplessdreamer927. Special thanks to thefrenchpress, deepshadows2, harleyquinn1317, and the very nice crowd on priv Twitter for the boosts of encouragement this week as I put myself back together while feeling v bad about this update being late. Sometimes we all need a little reminder that our mental health matters first. And that we're gonna be okay in the end. 3 so anyone reading this, that's my reminder to you too.

This chapter has no warnings. Enjoy your time following these silly lovebirds around and let me know what you think!

- Arabella


Chapter 5: All You Need Is A Light Jacket

Day 9

His owl landed outside her window early the next morning, an invitation to dinner that night secured to its leg. Hermione penned a quick reply accepting Severus' offer before sending the Black-banded Owl on its way.

Sleep had done her a world of good, and she woke with a clear mind and purpose, newly determined to keep her interactions with Snape as professional as possible. After all, she reminded herself as she got dressed, she wasn't his girlfriend in the traditional sense; she was his sugar baby. Sure, maybe for some people, one led to the other and they fell in love, but those relationships were the outliers. Rare exceptions.

That's still an outlandish thought , Hermione mused as she scrunched her curls with half a bottle of Sleekeazy's. Hermione Granger, sugar baby . She snorted at her reflection, relieved to find that amusement looked better on her than longing.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure what the difference was exactly between a girlfriend and a sugar baby. What could she expect? They would go on dates, she would accompany him to events and provide engaging conversation—they would not have sex—and in exchange he would give her enough money that in a month or two she'd be able to afford rent…and maybe some nicer clothes.

It sounded downright chivalrous when she said it like that.

"Have him take you shopping," Pansy said over breakfast, her mouth full of raspberry scone. She waved the other half of the pastry at Hermione like it was an obvious idea.

"Why would he do that?"

The Slytherin witch stopped chewing and stared at Hermione as if she were a seventh year still asking how flying worked. "Granger, do you even understand what a sugar daddy is?"

"I really hate that word," Hermione muttered as her cheeks turned red. She cast her eyes down, intensely focused on buttering her toast, and sighed. "He takes me on dates. I provide intellectual stimulation. He's less lonely, and I receive money. That's all."

"How much is your allowance?"

"My what?" Hermione scoffed, taken aback. "I'm not a child ."

Pansy threw a grape at her head. Hermione ducked, looking at her with her mouth hung open.

"No you halfwit, it's the money he gives you outside of your dates for things like clothing, nails, fun—"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I don't want to take advantage of him."

"You're not taking advantage of him!" Pansy shouted, the scone in her hand now forgotten on her plate. She pressed her palms against the surface of the table, collecting herself.

Hermione tried and failed to hide an amused smile. She half expected Pansy's hair to start crackling.

Pansy took a deep breath and continued in a calm, but firm voice. "Hermione, I know you like him, and I know that you'd like more from him, but until that happens, you need to treat this like it's your job. Because right now, it's the only one you've got."

Hermione scowled as she took a bite of her toast. "He does seem to be more comfortable with transactional relationships than anything else."

"Exactly. So let him pamper you. If he wants to spend Dumbledore's money paying witches for their time, let him. He's a grown wizard. I'm sure he will tell you if he doesn't want to do something." Pansy sipped her tea, watching the other witch over the edge of the cup.

Hermione couldn't hold her gaze, still embarrassed over the entire predicament. "I suppose I could use some nicer robes," she admitted into her porridge.

"And I'm sure he would like you to wear something pretty on your dates."

"I don't want to ask him for an allowance." She shook her head, nose scrunched with distaste. "It's too sterile."

Pansy sighed. "Fine. Then ask him to take you shopping."

Hermione snorted. "Severus Snape in the lingerie section. Can you imagine?"

When Pansy didn't answer, Hermione looked up at her. The other girl had a smug grin on her face.

"What?"

"I never said anything about lingerie."

Hermione blushed a deep red and didn't look up from her porridge for the rest of the meal.

~O~O~O~

She stood on the front steps of Grimmauld Place at five minutes to seven, trying not to bite her nails. Pansy had just painted them in a new coat of silver to go with her deep burgundy sweater dress. Tall, knee-length leather boots adorned her feet and several rings added a hint of elegance to the outfit. Hermione thought she was a bit overdressed for a casual dinner, but she knew when to choose her battles with her friend.

Severus watched her from the shadows across the street. He had Apparated just a ways down, not comfortable appearing right on Potter's doorstep (especially since that's where he correctly assumed she would be waiting), and even less comfortable not having the element of surprise on his side at all times. He did not like to be caught unawares.

As he approached, he took in her outfit, admiring the easy way she stood by the door frame as she waited. Her knit dress clinging to her curves, hair framing her face… And her eyes… Those big brown eyes. It was a simple tableau, and yet she was stunning.

It was juvenile, perhaps, for him to enjoy the possessiveness that came with seeing her standing there waiting for him (and looking entirely too good for him), but he smirked nonetheless. And then she extended her arms above her head, hands clasped as she reached towards the sky stretching her back.

Severus groaned. "She's trying to kill me," he muttered under his breath.

Steeling himself, he stepped out of the shadows.

Hermione's heart sped up as he approached. She tried not to give herself away with the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His sleek black hair fell around his face, moving rhythmically against his jaw with each footfall, his gait sure and strong. As he reached her, she could swear the smallest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Severus slowed as he approached the steps, his eyes on hers as he ascended them one by one until he stood just next to her.

Hermione watched as he withdrew a single rose from his cloak.

"To new beginnings," he said quietly, an echo of the time before.

Hermione glanced down, eyes wide at the offered gift. Her fingers brushed his as she carefully reached for the stem.

"And second chances," she finished.

She twirled the rose between her fingers, looking back up to find him watching her, his mouth pulled thin, uncertainty written all over his features.

"Unfortunately the gardens were all out of olive branches."

She smiled despite herself, and met his waiting, expectant eyes. "I suppose this will do."

A mischievous glint in his eye returned and he held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"

"Where to?" She placed her hand on his forearm, a short, quick inhalation through her nose the only sound she made in surprise at the muscle she felt beneath his sleeve.

"As this is a bit of a do-over for us, I thought I might show you an Italian restaurant in Muggle London that I particularly enjoy. It's rather good food for when one needs to diffuse a grudge."

She looked at him, amused, as he led her down the sidewalk. "Is that so?"

His lip quirked up. "Yes. It is difficult to maintain any semblance of anger when one is also trying to consume spaghetti and meatballs gracefully."

A genuine laugh escaped her as a different image came to mind.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I was just wondering whether that makes me the Lady or the Tramp," she mused aloud. She waved one hand through the air dismissively, "It's a—"

But a low chuckle from him halted her words as she felt it reverberate through him even where she held his arm. "I believe, Miss Granger, that we shall keep to our respective sides of the table tonight. I'll be sure to inform the waiter that we will need two plates."

Right. Half-blood. Muggle father. Obviously grew up with telly. Just going to hope the earth swallows me whole right about now.

"It is, however, lovely when you do that." He was looking at her with a coy lift to his lips.

"When I do what?"

"Blush."

~O~O~O~

The meal proceeded with surprising ease. Hermione hadn't known what to expect after their heated interaction at the Ministry, but the natural comfort she'd felt on their first date at the museum seemed to have returned with little fanfare as they moved through various topics. Their discussion wound from Potions research to Arithmancy theories to Muggle history, all the while maintaining the thrilling undercurrent of flirtatious intellectual banter. Their badinage kept her on her toes, and she was impressed by the breadth and depth of his knowledge on any number of subjects, no doubt gained through reading and self-study. A part of her that she rarely indulged sang once again as he asked her opinion on the latest Potions Weekly articles.

Towards the end of the evening, the conversation moved back to the gala the night before.

"I'm surprised Miss Parkinson was so comfortable at a Ministry event. It was not historically in her nature to be so generous with people she despises."

Hermione failed to hold back a laugh. "I'm pretty sure she attends out of spite, to be honest. She loves Harry, and she enjoys rubbing that in their faces."

He seemed amused and satisfied with her answer. Raising his wine glass to his lips, Severus took a sip.

"How was the rest of your evening with Mr. Krum?" he asked with an air of affected casualness.

Hermione furrowed her brow. She still felt bad for accepting Viktor's help and then barely having time to truly catch up with him. He was one of her only friends outside of the group that had formed after Hogwarts, and she would hate for him to feel slighted. She would send him an owl to get together again soon.

Hermione sighed. "The Minister needed his help, so unfortunately we didn't get to continue our plans."

"Hmm. Shame."

Severus took a longer sip of the wine, not sounding sorry at all. Hermione narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to ask whether he'd had anything to do with the Minister's sudden need for the Bulgarian celebrity's help, but thought better of it as Severus broke eye contact, looking off somewhere to the side. Fighting a smirk, she took a swig of her own wine instead.

"So," she asked, redirecting as she leaned forward with her arms on the table and looked at her companion with bright eyes. "What shall we do this evening?"

She hoped there might be a stroll, or perhaps they'd take in a Muggle film. And then her mind was quickly filled with thoughts of sitting beside him in a dark theater, wandering hands—

"I think you have humored me enough for one evening," he said, a sad sort of smile ghosting his lips. Disappointment quickly took root in Hermione's stomach, but she felt a little better when she realized he also looked sad that their time was at an end for the night.

It was curious, Hermione thought. From everything she had ever known of the man, he was such a strong-willed person. A sharp wit, quick tongue, and no lack of insults as self-defense, Hermione thought the man was unbreakable. But when it came to his own self-worth, there wasn't much there to break. To see him be self-deprecating without a hint of arrogance sent a pang of empathy through her chest. She wondered, for the first time, if the judgmental, demeaning comments everyone made about how unagreeable he was actually bothered him.

"But I wonder," he continued, "if you would accompany me tomorrow. I have a destination I've been meaning to visit that I think you'll rather enjoy."

"Oh!" That would be three days in a row; seeing him so often was not going to make it easier to get over her crush. But if that was what he wanted, it would be rude to refuse. Besides, this wouldn't last forever. She might as well take every chance she could. "Of course. That's what I'm here for." She smiled congenially, the truth of the words a reminder for herself just as much as they were a reassurance for him.

His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before the mask made its first appearance of the night, and the sadness on his face was gone as well. Neutral seemed to be safe for him; she had a fiery urge to make him feel safe being expressive with her. But it was a start—at least he wasn't openly hostile anymore.

With the mask firmly in place, obfuscating his words, he said, "I hope you know, Miss Granger, that despite the nature of this relationship, I do intend to make sure you are well…satisfied…with what you are receiving from our interactions."

She fought a shiver as pleasure shot up her spine, blood rushing to her cheeks. "I hope you know, Severus," she said, voice gravelling over his name intentionally, "that as much as I started this in need of financial help, I could have found other sources of work."

"No doubt."

"I chose this, knowing what I was getting myself into"—hardly, Hermione—"wanting to enjoy my time with the wizard I met, and this experience of being in his life and bringing something exciting to it." She laughed self-deprecatingly. "And, admittedly, to be able to afford some nicer robes. So anything I can do to make this," she gestured between them, "more pleasant for you…" Her voice trailed off and she avoided licking her lips despite their sudden dryness. "Please tell me."

"Just be yourself, Miss Granger," his words eerily reminiscent of Pansy's advice the night before. "It's gotten you this far."

Day 10

He arrived outside Grimmauld Place the next day at exactly 10 AM.

A morning person , she thought, amused as she glanced across the street. Not quite the bat everyone expects him to be.

Stepping out onto the London sidewalk, Hermione flipped her hair out of the nape of her jacket and made her way towards her former Potions professor with a spring in her step.

"Good morning, Severus."

"Miss Granger." He inclined his head towards her.

She shook her head disapprovingly, but the effect was ruined by the smile teasing the corner of her mouth. "Will you ever call me Hermione?"

"I have."

"Regularly?"

A small smirk pulled at his lips. "That remains to be seen."

They began walking towards the Apparition point, Hermione glancing over at him from beneath the cover of her hair, nervous energy radiating through her.

"You're quite chipper this morning," he noted. "And you don't even know where we're going yet. Do you enjoy surprises?"

"When I trust the source."

He looked over at her in surprise. "And you trust me?"

She grinned and caught his eye for a moment. "Yes." She bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if it was too great a risk to say more. But establishing a connection would be worth it. "I like spending time with you, Severus. I feel comfortable with you, as I would a friend."

She glanced at him nervously, waiting to see how he would receive her words.

Severus looked floored, and they walked in silence for a while. Hermione could tell he was processing this new information. Finally, his face relaxed and a twitch in his cheek gave him away—he was pleased. "Perhaps we could both use a friend."

They reached the designated spot and he held out his hand.

"Side-along?" Hermione asked nervously.

Severus raised a brow questioningly. "Will that be a problem?"

She noticed the cool tone in his voice and watched in dawning understanding as he withdrew his hand. She grabbed it quickly and shook her head. "No, it's nothing to do with you." She courageously gave his hand a light squeeze and then quickly rushed on. "I typically don't do well with side-along, so I apologize in advance if breakfast ends up on your shoes."

He winced and embarrassment flooded through her. But then he slowly squeezed her hand in return. "I suppose we shall find out."

Her heart beat faster as he pulled her into his side.

"Come on, Miss Granger. Adventure awaits us."

And with a deftness she wouldn't have expected from him, he wrapped her tightly beneath his arm and spun them away.

~O~O~O~

They reappeared outside a store in Inverness.

Hermione clung to his side as the world stopped spinning around her, and only when her head felt clearer did she realize his fingers were still spread around her ribcage.

Oh fucking hell, I like his hands.

"All right?" Severus was looking at her with concern, his brows drawn together, worry lines creasing the skin near his eyes.

It was sweet.

She nodded meekly and removed herself from his side, taking a steadying breath before turning to beam at him. "Where to?"

He smirked mischievously and turned towards the storefront, eyes cast towards the sign above the door.

Hermione's gaze followed and she gasped.

The Last First Edition

"No…how did you—I never—when—"

He watched her with a wry grin as she tried and failed to find the words to express her astonishment.

"How did you find this place?!"

Severus leaned back, one arm across his chest as he casually swirled his other hand through the air. "It's by invitation only."

He makes that look so attractive, she thought.

"I know it is," she replied in awe. "I've been trying to find a way in for years."

This brought an upturn to the sides of his lips; he seemed to delight in surprising her. And it was a very, very good surprise. Unplottable without an invitation, the store carried the last surviving copies of first edition magical books.

Magical printing was special; a unique magical signature was imbued into copies of texts as a low-tech tracking mechanism. When the final copy of a first edition was brought to someone's home, it triggered a notice to the publishing house. But inevitably, over the years, copies would go missing, get destroyed, or otherwise be lost to the ether. And when each book's signature was lost, the publisher recorded that too. It was a system as seamless as the charmed hourglasses tracking house points at Hogwarts.

So Hermione knew, deep in her magical bones, that these were truly the last surviving copies of first edition books she'd only ever dreamt of seeing.

"Severus, I don't think you know what you've done," she said, her voice shaking a bit with the adrenaline. He frowned a tiny bit, eyebrows drawing together as he looked at her, clearly worried he'd missed the mark. Excitement glimmered in her eyes as she clarified in hushed, reverent tones, "You've brought me to my own personal Library of Alexandria. I may never leave."

He chuckled—Severus Snape chuckled?—and gestured towards the door. "If we are to spend an eternity here, we'd better get started."

They spent the better part of the afternoon in the store, wandering through the rows and floors of books. Hermione's hand trailed the metal railing as she marveled at the selection on the second floor. Everything caught her attention and stole her breath, from personal diaries of early Arithmancers to ancient texts on the evolution of potion-making. She nearly cried with the sheer stress of wanting to buy everything before admitting she really had no interest in Quidditch through the Middle Ages Oh but Harry would like that! — and putting half the stack of books back.

It was still an obscenely large number of books, and Hermione hoped it wouldn't reflect badly on Severus as he'd brought her there as his personal guest. She had the good grace to look embarrassed as she placed the gargantuan stack on the counter.

"I love your store," she told the shop owner. "It's incredible."

The elderly wizard smiled lazily at her, ringing up her books.

"One hundred galleons," he said in a tired voice.

Hermione blanched. She certainly didn't have the funds for an impulse buy of that magnitude. She didn't even have a job. Well, besides this one, her brain added.

"Oh, um—" She pulled two books from the stack, painstakingly looking through the others to salvage just one more before realizing she really couldn't afford to. She gently placed the two back on the counter; they looked rather sad next to the larger stack. "Just these two, please."

"The lot, Jonas."

Hermione looked up to find Severus placing a small bag of money on the counter.

Her cheeks went pink and she stammered. "Oh, no, Severus. Please. That's really not necessary. I can put some back. I got carried away."

He turned to her as the owner packaged up the books. When he spoke it was low and gravely. "And let the Brightest Witch of her Age lie in bed at night wondering where the precious copies of her unpurchased books have ended up? I think the Prophet would have my head."

She stared, mouth open in surprise. He was buying her books. He was buying her books and he was teasing her about it.

"Thank you," she finally managed.

He snorted. "I didn't bring you here just to stare at them, though I'll admit watching you salivate over all the options made my own experience here that much more enjoyable."

Hermione blushed in mild embarrassment, avoiding his eyes as a self-knowing smile stole over her face. She knew what she looked like when she got into a groove around books; Harry and Ron had teased her about it enough times to know she appeared borderline obsessive. "I do get rather taken in by the written word," she admitted. And rather wet around the spoken one, lately, she finished in her head.

The quote 'What are men to rocks and mountains?' flitted across her mind and Hermione chuckled. What are robes to books and Potions Masters?

"Something amusing, Miss Granger?"

She glanced over at him. Smiling this much looks good on him.

Hermione shook her head to clear it and let out a short laugh. "Just thinking how much better this is than new clothes."

He raised one eyebrow in question.

"Pansy said I should ask you to take me shopping for new robes. She said that's a part of…all of this, but personally I think this "—she gestured around them—"is far superior to a day in Madam Malkin's."

Severus watched her, considering something in silence for quite a few moments. She started to squirm under his appraisal. Had she said the wrong thing by referring openly to the terms of their relationship? Bugger.

He made a noise in his throat, a neutral little "hmm," and then looked back to the cashier.

For the second time in as many days, Hermione wanted to be swallowed up by the floor.

Jonas handed Severus the bag of Hermione's books and the Potions Master held his arm out to her.

"Shall we?"

"Yes, thank you," she mumbled. She wrapped her hand around his arm, hoping the redness in her cheeks had receded—though the muscles present under her fingertips were not helping her to that end—and allowed him to lead them back outside.

The winter air had a balmy, unseasonal quality that day.

"Would you care for a stroll?" he asked.

She glanced up in surprise and a grin stretched across her features, cheeks beginning to ache. Had she ever smiled this much? "I'd love that."

He shrunk the bag of books and stored it in his robes. The action required both arms, and she immediately felt bereft of his touch. Selfishly, Hermione hoped he would offer his arm again, but he placed both hands behind him.

They walked along, circling a pond that they found along the way.

Hermione found it almost too easy to talk to him. She told him of how she ended up at the Ministry, hoping she could enact change. How she wished she'd taken an apprenticeship overseas instead of spending ten years stuck in personality politics that cared more about appearance than actual improvement in the lives of magical creatures. Specifically—and this she had shared with so few people that she couldn't believe how easily the words came to her lips in front of him—she told him how she regretted not becoming a Potions Mistress.

"Really?" he said, genuine surprise filtering into his tone as he seemed to become more at ease around her. "Why didn't you?"

She grimaced. "Honestly? Ron." She stared at her feet as they walked. "I'd just lost my parents, I didn't feel like I could stand to lose anyone else. It was pathetic, I know. Hermione Granger, one-third of the Golden Trio with twelve N.E.W.T.s to her name, and she stayed in England for a boy."

She glanced nervously at him, expecting judgment or a snarky remark, but he looked merely contemplative, as if he were weighing what she said.

"While I question your sanity that the boy in question was Weasley," Severus began carefully, his words precise, "I cannot fault you for wanting stability after everything that you went through. The three of you experienced something few others could ever truly understand."

Hermione remained silent, surprised by such a generous remark.

"However," he said, turning to face her with a familiar stern look, "there is no reason you should not pursue those goals now."

A small, sorrowful laugh escaped her. "I would love to. Perhaps someday. I don't know if it was apparent given how stressed I was in your class, but I actually really loved Potions."

The memory of her younger self, with frizzy hair and a frantic hand waving in the air, flashed through both of their minds simultaneously and they grinned in unison.

"I am not surprised," Severus offered in the happy silence that followed.

"There were various apprenticeships open that year, mostly because so many people had gone into hiding during the war and very few wanted to start over immediately. I would have had my pick. Austria, France, Indonesia, Lithuania, Japan. But instead, I chose to stay."

She looked away, training her eyes on the far edge of the pond and avoiding his gaze as her heartache played transparently across her features.

"Why not pursue it now?" he asked again.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose I could try. At the very least, I'm at a better place for a transition now than I would have been then. And"—she lowered her voice, whispering as if she were divulging a secret—"I would still really like to see the world."

Severus led her to a bench near the edge of the water and they sat. He pulled the edges of his coat a bit tighter against the sudden breeze, crossing his arms in the process.

"I would have thought your parents would have traveled with you around the world. Weren't they in a lucrative Muggle profession?"

"Yes," she said, tucking her hands into her pockets as she looked out at the ducks on the pond. "They were dentists. But they never took much time off. We had loads of holidays in England, and we'd go to France, but beyond that… We always said that when I finished school we'd go together. Mum wanted to see the sights, but Dad and I wanted to try all the food."

An ache blossomed beneath her sternum as she thought of her parents. Hermione couldn't help but wonder what her mother would think of her choices, especially the ones that led her to accept money from her former professor in exchange for being his pseudo-girlfriend. She frowned at the thought that it was pseudo anything, when the desire to spend more and more time in his company was so genuine and growing by the day.

The way Ginny and Luna described it, they really cared for the wizards they met through Sugar Quills—it wasn't meant to feel fake. So maybe it was okay for her to feel that way. Yes, he was paying her—but that didn't mean she couldn't treat it like any other relationship.

Hermione sighed, tentatively leaning against his shoulder. Severus tensed beneath her immediately and it took everything in her not to apologize and dismiss the action, chalking it up to melancholy over her family. She held her breath, waiting, and after a few moments, his arm finally came up around her and she exhaled quietly, smiling once again.

They could have looked just like lovers. Or maybe friends.

Day 11

Each day that followed continued in a similar fashion. Severus was suddenly requesting her company daily, which was far more than she'd originally expected.

Whether it was a casual lunch between brew stages, or—

Day 12

—a walk through the botanical gardens at twilight when the light cast the flowers in an effervescent glow, or—

Day 13

—a day at the theater, something that wholly surprised her about the man, or—

Day 14

—a stroll through St. James Park. By the end of their first week together, Hermione was glowing.

They'd learned so much about each other—Severus seemed most inclined to share about his own life when they were in motion and he didn't have to look at her directly, which Hermione found rather endearing. Who would have thought he's shy? She chuckled to herself as she entered Grimmauld Place, waving across the street where he was waiting to make sure she made it in safely.

As she sank back onto her bed with the taste of gelato from their date still fresh in her mind, Hermione sighed in pure satisfaction.

Her soul had not felt so light in months.

Day 15

It wasn't until Friday that their routine was disrupted. Severus had a conference out of town, and when Hermione had asked if he'd like her to join him, he'd smiled with a sadness she didn't quite understand and said no.

But it was no matter. Hermione wouldn't allow herself to be bothered into a state of anxiety over one event when every day had been so pleasant. Perhaps he wasn't ready to explain why his former student was accompanying him, or maybe he was going to be preoccupied and didn't want her to feel left out. She was sure he would let her attend the next one once they'd gotten to know each other better. Severus was a 5,000-piece puzzle, and as interesting as every tile was proving to be, she knew it would take time before she had the whole picture figured out. She smiled to herself, giddy at the thought that he was letting her get to know him, that he might be willing to show her even the tiles he himself found ugly, the ones he'd tried to destroy, cauterizing the wounds. She wanted to see them all. She wanted to know.

And when she fell asleep that night, she did not dream of Severus Snape taking her to a world-renowned potions conference and introducing her as his brilliant girlfriend.

No she most certainly did not.

That would be ludicrous.