Chapter 5

* * *

An hour later, they were walking down the trail from the house, conversing about Hermione's work and discussing the plants that grew along their path. Severus had left his robes behind on Hermione's advice, as they'd be traveling through several largely Muggle areas and didn't want to attract undue attention. He was, then, dressed simply in a white shirt with black slacks, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow in a concession to the heat.

It was strange, Snape thought. He hadn't spent time with a person who wasn't a colleague or family member in so long he'd forgotten there was an alternative. Neither, for that matter, had anyone unobligated to him expressed any interest in spending time together. And yet here he was, walking (in Spain, of all places) with a bright and admittedly beautiful young woman who was talking animatedly about a subject that actually, wonder of wonders, interested him. Snape vaguely thought to pinch himself, but no; were he dreaming, surely his mind would not have concocted a creature who cooked as abominably as Hermione Granger apparently did. His stomach flipped over at the memory of breakfast.

Wait. What in the world was he thinking? How, in the space of less than twenty-four hours, had this Dumbledore-imposed exile become a pleasant retreat? And how could he possibly be thinking of a bossy Gryffindor chit who'd tormented him for seven years of Potions classes as an intellectual equal - and a desirable one, no less?

"Because it is," an annoying little voice whispered inside him. "And she is. And it would serve us well, you giant repressed bat, if you would pull your wand out of your arse for one afternoon and let us have some fun!" Snape, not for the first time, considered hexing that voice out of himself at whatever cost. Only the memory of Lockhart kept him from turning his wand on himself.

And yet... what would be the harm, he wondered, in letting his guard down, just for a while. If worst came to worst, he could simply threaten the girl into silence and return to Hogwarts as if nothing had happened. And if it went well... well. He'd been Snape for so long, he thought it might be rather novel to try just being Severus again.

It was definitely something in the air, Snape decided. And, apparently, the water. And sun... His internal monologue trailed off as he realized Hermione was looking at him rather expectantly. Oh dear. Had she really been talking all this time? "Uh, right. Yes. I agree completely." He nodded emphatically for good measure.

"You agree completely that Percy Weasley is actually half-Veela and currently happily raising a brood of triplets with Marcus Flint in Venezuela. Okay." Snape had the good grace to color slightly - albeit very slightly. "Lost in thought, were we?"

"I suppose." When he did not elucidate, she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Sickle for your thoughts, then?" she prodded.

"I assure you, Hermione, my thoughts are worth a great deal more than that." He quirked the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

"I have," she dug around in a battered pouch she'd attached to a leather thong, which wrapped several times around her waist before tying in a secure knot, "three Galleons, thirteen Sickles and twenty-one Knuts. You'll have to take my word on the rest, I'm afraid, unless you accept Muggle money?..."

He waved his hand at the small pile of coins stacked in her palm. "Thinking, that's all. About nothing in particular." She looked skeptical but did not press the issue. Hoping to fill the silence, Severus spoke. "So, we spoke of this earlier but never finished. What do you plan to do after you finish your education?"

She shrugged. "I haven't really thought that far, actually. People assume that I've had my career planned since the owl arrived with my Hogwarts letter, or else that I'll be following Harry into Auror training, but really I've no idea. I suppose I've always assumed that one day I'll end up back at Hogwarts, instructing one subject or another. Not Potions, of course," she demurred, "but I'm certainly qualified to teach Muggle Studies, or perhaps Arithmancy when Professor Vector is ready to retire."

Severus stopped short. Hermione turned back to look at him. "Do not let your life slip away from you inside the walls of Hogwarts, Hermione. It may be a great aspiration, more than the vast majority of wizards will ever achieve, but it is not for a mind like yours. You belong somewhere that you can do more than teach others what has been taught to you; you belong in a place where you can allow the world to unfold its secrets to you - a place like this. Hothouse flowers never fully bloom. Do not resign yourself to that fate."

They began walking again in silence, Hermione wondering if she had actually started to hallucinate and Severus feeling much more at ease than he would have expected after such a speech. After a moment he spoke again.

"And if you ever dare mention what I've just said to anyone, your children's children will be serving detention in the dungeons until after they've graduated." He glared for good measure.

She nodded seriously and then, inexplicably, blushed beet-red and scurried ahead. Women, Severus sighed to himself, and followed.

* * *

It was only a short time before they reached a bustling marketplace. Rows of vendor stalls lined the walkways, and shoppers wizard and Muggle alike streamed through the airy square, pausing at this stand or that kiosk. Hermione fished a perfect miniature wicker basket from the depths of her pouch, and with a flick of her wand enlarged it so it could carry a decent amount of whatever she needed to pick up. She hooked it over her elbow and turned to Severus. "I've got to pick up some more herbs and things for my lab, ones that I can't grow myself; you're welcome to stay with me or go off on your own. The square isn't so big that we should have trouble finding each other again." Severus nodded and they walked together into the crowd. She seemed to be shopping for rather mundane ingredients, and he doubted she'd need help, so he was unconcerned when she stopped at a booth and he continued on his own.

Snape had never been one for crowds or company. Most people assumed that this was because of a basic misanthropy, and while he could not deny that he harbored a touch of disdain for the human condition, it was not nearly to the extent that others believed. Rather, he was merely resistant to the fact that, more often than not, when he allowed people into his immediate vicinity they, sooner or later, they wanted something from him. And usually, it was nothing he wanted to give. Eventually he learned that if he avoided human company, he avoided all the messiness that accompanied it. So, he'd kept to himself, and been... calm. Calm, if not exactly happy. He rather thought that, at this late stage, happiness was beyond him.

In any case, he paid no mind to the crowds filling this Spanish market square. If he kept to himself, they'd likely ignore him entirely, and even on the off chance that someone spoke to him, he could quite convincingly pretend not to understand. Of course he'd applied the translation charm as soon as he and Hermione had left, but no one would know that. So he wandered from booth to booth, observing the people and the bustling vibrancy that surrounded him. Here and there he would stop to crush an herb between his fingers or determine the quality of an ingredient he normally had to have imported at no small cost. When he found something especially noteworthy, he purchased a small amount with the Muggle money he'd found conveniently tucked into his suitcase, reduced it and stowed it in a pocket. He was surprised to learn, upon meeting up with Hermione some time later, that he'd managed to while away an entire hour.

Hermione, for her part, had done quite well for herself, it seemed; the basket hanging from her arm was brimming with all sorts of greenery and vegetation. She clearly enjoyed these excursions; the solitude of her study had taken its toll, Severus could see. Must have, if she was willing - even eager - to spend time with him. "Have you found everything you needed?" He took her by the elbow, almost unconsciously, as they walked.

"Yes, just about. There's one stall I always stop at last... ah, here." She paused in front of a relatively spacious booth, where a wizened, ancient crone perched on a tall stool.

"Hermione... it's lovely to see you again, girl." The woman's voice certainly betrayed her age, creaking as if it was becoming a strain for her vocal cords to flex as they once did. Yet Severus did not think her to be a doddering, senile spinster; there was an intelligence in her eyes no number of years could dull. She raised her hands as Hermione approached, and embraced her.

"Rosa, you look wonderful. Have you anything good for me today?"

"Mayhap, mayhap. But first you must introduce me to your friend..." Rosa, as Hermione had called her, hopped off her stool with surprising agility and made her way to where Severus stood. With one brown, crooked finger she beckoned him down. Somewhat uncertainly, he bent, bringing his head nearer to hers. She grasped his chin in a strong, uncompromising grip, and turned his face from side to side, inspecting it. Her fingers pressed his cheekbones and traveled to his hair, tugging lightly on the roots and stroking through its length. Finally, she seemed satisfied, and with a soft 'hmmph' released him and stepped away.

"So very dark... and yet there is light left in you yet," she said softly. She rummaged for a few seconds in a basket that sat by her feet, and emerged with a bundle of woody, fragrant stalks. "This is for you," she said, and pressed the herb to his chest. "Rosemary, for remembrance. You do well to remember what life has taught you, but you must also take care. The past should not rule your future; remember, accept, and move on. There is happiness ahead of you, happiness you have not dared to hope for yourself. Recognize it when it opens its arms to you, and the world will be yours." Severus did not speak when she stepped away. His conscious mind scoffed - must be some relation to Trelawney, it said - and yet her words had struck some chord deep inside him. She would not, he realized, be so easily dismissed. The witch - for Severus was now sure that was what she was; no Muggle would speak like that - had turned her attention to Hermione.

"You've chosen well, girl. Few take the trouble to see things for what they are, but those who do will reap the rewards. All the happiness in the world to you, child." Rosa smiled and held her gnarled hand to Hermione's cheek, who blushed and stammered.

"Rosa, I'm afraid you've - well, you see, we're not - I mean, that is to say, he isn't my..." Hermione trailed off and looked at Rosa beseechingly, willing her to understand.

"Oh, is he not, then?" Rosa looked for all the world like a benevolent grandmother humoring her young progeny. She cast a wink back to the other old woman that sat beside her, who merely chuckled and turned back to her work. Rosa clambered back onto her stool. She took Hermione's hands in hers. "Have a lovely day, child."

Hermione smiled at the ancient woman with genuine affection. "I'll see you next week, Rosa."

Rosa chuckled. "Mayhap you will and mayhap you won't, girl." She pulled Hermione towards her with a surprisingly strong grip and, like a benediction, kissed her on the forehead. "My blessing goes with you all the same."

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A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers! Sorry this is a bit late - it's finals week and I've been practically living in the library. Next chapter in three or four days.