Author's Note: JKR owns the Harry Potter universe and the characters therein. Anyone you don't recognise is from my imagination.
Thanks as always to my wonderful beta reader, OzRatBag2. Please read "At Any Moment," her latest fic. And you thought I torment you with cliffies…
Chapter 15: We Only Pass This Way One Time
Hermione gathered up her notebooks, closed the laboratory door in back of her, and made her way to Gryffindor Tower. She yawned into her hand; it seemed she never got enough sleep. This is what you dreamt of, said the little voice in her head.
Hard work, as always; exercising her developing skills in potions and, at the same time, her facility with research. The library had always been her favourite place, and although she loved the laboratory for a variety of reasons, at bottom it was as it had always been: the learning, the discovery, the new information.
She thought of her brain as a computer, with capacious storage space and a processor that worked at blinding speed. The wizarding world might disdain the digital universe, but Hermione was drawn to it as a moth to a flame: imagine: everything was made up of the same atoms, when one got down to the basic building blocks: infinitesimal scraps of electrical vibration, either positive or negative, arranged in a quintillion different ways but all, all the same. To think that, at the subatomic level, a parsnip was no different than a word spoken by Albus Dumbledore!
She had spent the past year as almost a continuation of her last year as a student, remaining at Hogwarts, attending advanced classes as an auditor and student-teaching, working for her own teaching qualifications. Certainly, her months as Severus Snape's intern were a continuation of her work with him over seven years. Even Harry and Ron, her chums throughout her schooling, were still around, Harry thinking of becoming an Auror, Ron, like herself, student teaching.
Everything was going along quite nicely, until her relationship with Snape changed completely. Now, she thought to herself, what am I to do? Do I continue with plans to go to university at Edinburgh and come out as Doctor Granger after four years spent in intense study – and removal from everything and everyone I know? What then? Would she do an internship at St Mungo's? Would she go to the United States, to the Mayo Clinic to do her residency, or would she come back to the Continent, to the Sorbonne, and emerge as a Doctor of Philosophy, to work in pure research?
And what of Snape? They had had a dreamlike night and day together, but Hermione was realist enough to know that the first flush of lovemaking was not necessarily the model for an entire relationship. Were they to become occasional lovers, as she suspected Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore were? One could see clearly the flashes of intimacy between them. They had not talked at all about "what happens next?" She knew only that she had discovered a physical connection with Severus far beyond anything she had ever dreamed, so intense, in fact, that it was matched only by their compatibility as colleagues.
Was that to be her future: to work side by side with Severus Snape? If so, where? Would they fall into the McGonagall-Dumbledore mould? One day Albus would retire, and she suspected that Severus would then become Headmaster. Was that enough for her?
Harry caught up with Hermione in the passageway leading to their common room. "Hi! Wait for me!" She turned and her face lit with a big smile.
"Harry, where have you been?"
"Where have I been? Classes, of course, and Quidditch matches. Oh, and I guess you didn't get my message – I've been called to the Ministry."
Hermione linked her arm through his. "No, I didn't get your message, but never mind – you were called to the Ministry? Have they invited you to become an Auror?"
Harry looked at her seriously. "I've been considering it. I could do several things: I could go on to University, but you know, I'm not that much of a student. I'd rather be doing something useful, and I do want to be around. You know," he said meaningfully.
"Yes, I do," Hermione answered. "Something's afoot. Darkness isn't vanquished, Harry. I just don't believe that Voldemort's dead. I think he's lurking around somewhere. There are too many unexplained murders in the Muggle world."
"And too many stupid wars, and terrorist attacks," Harry added. "Just because he's not wreaking havoc in Hogsmeade and thereabouts doesn't mean he's gone. Although," he said, "I don't fancy getting into another battle with him. I'm afraid it's inevitable"
They went through the portrait hole, and into Gryffindor common room, then out to the balcony overlooking the lake. Hermione dumped her books on the floor and sat down on a bench, enjoying the breeze and the late afternoon sunshine.
"What does Ron say?" she asked.
Harry looked at her oddly. "Haven't you been talking to Ron?"
She looked down at her hands. "I tried. He doesn't want to have anything to do with me."
Harry said nothing for a little space of time. "Hermione – " he began awkwardly,
"It's all right, Harry," she said, reaching over and taking his hand. "I know Ron's upset about my…my friendship with Severus Snape."
"I was pretty surprised too," Harry answered. "But I wasn't upset. You've probably been closer to Snape for the past seven years than anyone's ever been. There's got to be something you see in him that nobody else can see."
"Yes," Hermione said. " I know it's going to sound strange, Harry, but we fit. Our personalities, our values, our thoughts – everything fits. Severus understands me. He gives me room – he knows I need to study, to pursue knowledge, and he knows I need to be by myself sometimes. He's the same way. He doesn't crowd me."
Harry thought for a moment. "I grant you that I don't understand him. I know he's brilliant, and I know he'll do anything for Hogwarts, for Headmaster Dumbledore and for me. It's just that he's been, well, the – the miserable git for so long, it's hard to visualise him as anything else. But if you tell me that he's respectful of you, I can handle it." He swallowed. "You're my best friend, and you deserve all the love in the world. You haven't mentioned love once, Hermione."
She squeezed his hand. "You'll find this hard to believe, Harry, but I've loved him for at least five years, and he's admitted that he has loved me for longer than that. His life has had so little love in it, that he didn't recognise it for the longest time. But as soon as he did, he told me. He tells me all the time. He tells me everything."
"Wow," Harry said. "I think you're the first real friend he's ever had." He looked at her in all seriousness. "So, what will you do? Are you going to marry him?"
Hermione bit her lip. "We haven't talked about marriage in so many words," she said. "We talk about being together, and we've talked about the future, even about when we grow old –" she smiled inwardly, remembering their conversation about extreme age – "but he hasn't proposed to me."
"Well," Harry said, drawing himself up, "he has to declare his intentions. Now, you know I'm open-minded –" He turned bright red.
"Oh, Harry! Great Grendel's ghost, I'm of age – over legal age, certainly, and yes, we do have a very fulfilling relationship – " here, Hermione blushed herself – "but I'm sure his intentions are honourable."
"Well, as your best friend, and since you don't have any brothers, and (here he put his arm round her shoulders), as one who considers himself your family, I shall ask him what his intentions are."
Hermione leaned her head against his. "Harry, that's embarrassing."
"Well, he has to know that I'm concerned about your welfare, and he'll just have to deal with it."
He looked at her, his dearest chum, as close as Ron. "Do you want to marry him? "
Two deep dimples pocketed her cheeks and she bumped her nose into Harry's. She lowered her voice: "Yes, I do, and Severus will have to know that I bring with me my best friends in the world, as well as my Gryffindor bossiness and my know-it-all superiority."
Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve and hugged her hard. "Now we need to get Ron together," he said.
*~*
Minerva McGonagall looked hopelessly at the pile of correspondence on her desk. She shook her head. "Owls, owls, owls! I'm plagued with 'em! No sooner do I finish with one pile of letters and memoranda, than they're at me again!"
She opened the last of the last batch of envelopes. It was large and heavy, thick creamy linen paper, addressed to Mme. Minerva McGonagall, Ecole Hogwarts. She withdrew the letter, shook her head. Her French wasn't what it used to be, and she muttered a Translation charm. Slowly, she read the letter. Then, she folded it and put it carefully into its envelope.
She sat for a moment, considering. Then, she left her office, closing the door behind her, and walked deliberately to Dumbledore's suite. "Jaffa Cakes," she said, and the gryphon revolved.
*~*
There was a brisk knock on her door. "Enter," called Hermione. Severus Snape stood in her doorway
"Come in," she said. "Why are you standing there like that?"
A familiar smirk appeared on the Potions Master's visage. "Do you know, I've never been in your chambers, my lady?"
"I beg to differ," she said crisply. She walked over to the door and put her hand on his arm. "One awful night you prevented me from jumping from Gryffindor Tower, and you carried me right in here, and sat with me in that very chair – " she indicated her squashy armchair, now occupied by Crookshanks – "and held me all night."
Severus took her hand. "Yes," he said. "I remember. You tore my heart out that night, and have been playing Quidditch with it ever since."
Hermione laughed. "As you had no heart of your own at that time, I was generous enough to let you keep mine."
"That's a rather Victorian sentiment. Been reading bodice-rippers, have you?"
As they approached the Great Hall, they joined the steady stream of students and Masters going in to dinner. Hermione noticed Ron Weasley heading for the Gryffindor table. "Ron!" she called.
He turned around, saw her, put his head down and continued to walk. "Please go and sit down," she said to Snape. "I'll join you in a moment." She walked quickly and caught up with Ron.
"Please, Ron, don't turn away. I want to talk to you," she said, catching his arm.
Ron looked straight ahead. "There's nothing to say," he muttered.
