Jolene

July 20th, 2008, Hogwarts

Professor Granger was walking down the deserted halls of Hogwarts. After the war she had started to work for the ministry along her friends Harry and Ron. As her relationship with the redhead had run its course she had reconsidered her options. While it had been possible to salvage her friendship with the youngest Weasley son his mother Molly had made family gatherings akward to the point of being hurtful. The matriarch was hurting and had concentrated her ire on the young woman for - in her opinion - slighting her son. No matter how often Ron had explained their situation – best friends did not necessarily make a good couple – and that the break-off had been a mutual decision, Mrs Weasley clung to her opinions.

Hermione could understand to an extent, the death of Fred still haunted the whole family, she could no longer subject herself to an unbearable situation. Therefore she had changed the trajectory of her career and had gone on to study Ancient Runes at Perth's wizarding university in Australia before starting to teach the subject at Hogwarts. This had given her an opportunity to work on the relationship with her parents who had been very angry about being Obliviated.

Now, more than ten years after the events, they had a cordial relationship but not as close as in her childhood. Severus Snape of all people had been most helpful, pointing out the difficulties of staying close to your loved ones while living in another world. It had done a lot towards laying to rest her guilt about her actions.

After a conference in Madrid at the beginning of the summer holidays Hermione had spent some time in her flat in London. An unexpected heatwave and the feeling of rattling around in the appartment and in her own mind had driven her to returen to Hogwarts unplanned. The Scottish Highlands were cooler and the castle itself never failed to calm her down. Headmistress McGonagall and the rest of the teachers were gone for the summer, only Snape and a retired Filch were supposed to man the castle.

The Potions master had survived the horrid wound Nagini had inflicted on him due to the interference of a Malfoy house-elf. Still he had needed nearly a year to get well again, after which he had returned to teach potions. Harry had pointed out that Snape most likely felt that Hogwarts was his only true home, Hermione thought that the initial reason for his return was personal penance for his year as Headmaster.

But over the years not only the visible wounds on the castle had been healed but also those invisible ones on its inhabitants. The Severus Snape of 2008 was a mostly content man, reknown scientist and much mellowed teacher. Potions was dangerous as ever and students fooling around stupidly would feel his ire keenly but not needing to keep up the Death Eater façade had improved his teaching a lot. He still was Head of Slytherin and cared for the children in his house even if he was the only one. Hermione now knew how often a sorting into Slytherin was caused by childhood abuse, as these children had to develop a sense of cunning and self-preservation to simply survive their homes. She had become Snape's most vocal supporter with introducing mandatory health checks at Hogwarts. And of finding a home where students could stay over the summer if they wished or their teachers thought it a good idea.

Four years ago one staff appointment had surprised Hermione. Antonin Dolohov was to be the new DADA instructor after his parole from Azkaban. Part of his sentence was a three year stint of community service, served – at Filius Flickwick's insistence – at Hogwarts. The Russian had sought her out as soon as he had moved into his quarters and had apologised for hurting her in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had accepted the apology as the scar hadn't bothered her in a long time. Thinking it over alone she realised that the matter had been over for her in the moment she had Obliviated the man in that café on Tottenham Court Road. Dolohov and Rowle had been suspiciously easy to defeat for three mostly untrained teenagers. At their trial it had come out that both had been secretly working with Kingsley Shacklebolt towards ending the conflict since their break-out from Azkaban. Dolohov was a strict but fair teacher much in the manner of McGonagall. Hermione also suspected him to be quite shy as he never lingered in the staff lounge or at the Head table and was consistently absent from any outings or parties the staff had. She knew that he sometimes helped Hagrid with warding the Black Lake and the thestral enclosure and that he played chess with Filius regularly, otherwise she only saw him at staff meetings or meals, where he sat at the other end of the table.

Hogwarts was as empty as Hermione had hoped for. She puttered around in her quarters, chatted with the elves, who had forgiven her for S.P.E.W. a long time ago, in the kitchen and then donned her bathing suit and a summer dress for a late afternoon swim in the lake. Passing by Hagrid's hut she aimed for a bay on the far side of the body of water. To her surprise faint sounds of a guitar reached her. Slowing her steps she listened closely. Fairly accomplished fingerpicking, sometimes interspersed with curses, clued her in to the music being played live. Hermione peered through the bushes and beheld an astonishing sight. Severus Snape, dressed in a cut-off jean and an old Newcastle t-shirt sitting on a boulder with a guitar. Antonin Dolohov was standing on the edge of the water in nothing but a pair of speedos, towelling his hair off while ribbing the Potions master.

"Come on, Sev, you're not Eric Clapton. It will do for me."

"If you say so. Right."

Snape started with a familiar sounding intro but Hermione could not name the song until Dolohov started to sing.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
I'm begging of you please don't take my man
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Please don't take him just because you can

Your beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locks of auburn hair
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green

The Russian had a wonderful baritone voice and the young witch found herself humming along the familiar tune. Her father had played guitar and many evenings had sung with his wife, camp fire staples from Nick Drake to Dolly Parton, from Johnny Cash to Neil Young. Before Hogwarts Hermione had started to join in. Until this moment she'd never realised how much she missed those sessions. Just then the guitarist made a mistake, followed by colourful swearing in a Northern accent. The witch had to smother a giggle at hearing her stern colleague like this.

"Tsk, tsk, still so hung up about the Evans girl that you can't get past that verse?"

"Shut it, mudak! I can't do the hammer-ons like before darling Nagini has spread her venom. If you can't keep your comments to yourself you'll have to use that vile karaoke machine of yours again."

Dolohov held his hands up in a placating manner.

"Sorry, mate, I misspoke. And I know your attention is long elsewhere, more on a certain young colleague of ours."

Hermione had to stop a gasp. Snape and Dolohov were the youngest teachers at Hogwarts, with the exemption of Neville and herself. The Potions master harbouring a tendre for Neville? She could not believe it.

"Ah, Tony, Tony. Your own wishes colour your perception. What about you? Aren't you the one who always flees whenever she enters the staff-room? Who drags himself out of bed at an ungodly hour to avoid her at breakfast?"

The witch was gobsmacked. If they weren't talking about Neville – and the pronoun indicated they weren't – they were talking about herself! Quite a few of the teachers lived in Hogsmeade with their spouses and therefore breakfast was served on a smaller table that held only those with quarters at the castle.

"It is for the best. No reason to taunt myself with something unattainable. She wouldn't be the witch she is if she took up with a man who nearly killed her."

"For which you apologised. And she accepted. Trust me, Granger would make herself heard if she harboured any grudge against you. You were a gibbering wreck after Azkaban when he sent you on that mission, so nervous that you hexed everything that moved. You stopped to fight after you realised you'd hurt a child. If you wish to pursue her, do so. She's a grown witch who knows her mind."

The Russian appeared thoughtful before a sly smile stole across his handsome features.

"And you wouldn't want to push me forward to pave the way for yourself?"

"She was my pupil, you dunce!"

"You started here at the tender age of 21. Nearly every British witch was you pupil at one time. And they do grow up, you said so yourself. You don't see her as a snivelling pre-teen, do you? It doesn't matter when you're hundred and she's eighty."

"If you do not stop right now that was our last practice."

"Right, right. Let's do that song again. And keep playing even if you're not satisfied with your picking, no one will notice. Open mike night is in two weeks already."

Hermione withdrew and was treated to a truly wonderful rendition of Jolene, followed by Mr Bojangles and Tom Petty's I won't back down in the Johnny Cash version. She swore to herself to find out the where and when of that open mike night. And maybe she would practise some of her own favourite songs for the event.

Fin