Inside the castle was warm and cheerful. The great hall roared with talking and laughter. She saw Harry already seated at the Gryffindor table next to Ron and across from Ginny. He waved and smiled and motioned her over but she pointed to her Head Girl badge and he gave her two thumbs up and resumed his conversation – most likely on quidditch.

She looked up to the high table to see each of the chairs filled. All the air rushed from her lungs when she saw Severus. He was looking right at her, staring at her and when their eyes met, he gave her a nod. She breathed in and nodded back. She couldn't help but smile, too, because his eyes looked kindly upon her. He pointed at her and she furrowed her eyebrows. It took her a second to realize that he was pointing behind her, to the line of first years coming into the great hall. Most were shivering and soggy but a few of the bright ones had already taken out their wands and dried themselves off some.

Professor McGonagall appeared with the sorting hat, and said her spiel. Its song was one of peace though, admittedly, Hermione didn't pay much attention. She was trying to catch Snape's gaze again without anyone noticing. He didn't look at the Gryffindor table again. Soon the sorting started and she clapped when students were put in Gryffindor. They ate and then, finally, Dumbledore stood.

"We have much to celebrate," he said, his voice loud and wise. Everyone clapped and cheered. "The wizarding world is safe from the death and violence that has plagued it for some seven years. I think we all owe more than our thanks to Harry Potter." Everyone clapped and Harry, blushing, stared into his lap. He had still not told his story. "Our Head boy this year is Andrew Stonybrook, from Ravenclaw, and our Head girl is Hermione Granger, from Gryffindor. I trust you will all give them the respect they deserve." He went on to tell the rules (the Forbidden forest was still forbidden) and introduce the staff (Severus Snape, Potions master and head of Slytherin) and then she was telling the prefects the passwords and the first years were being ushered off to their common rooms while the other students took their time getting there. Hermione went up to the high table, hoping to catch Snape but he was gone, again. The silence between them would kill her.

oooo

Hermione, now used to having her own room, was glad the head girl received her own quarters. She had assumed, blithely, that each house had quarters for a head boy and girl since Percy had always appeared so fast when he was head boy, but instead Dumbledore led them down the same hallway as his office. They stopped in front of the great gargoyle.

"Here we are, then," Dumbledore said, happily.

"Your office?" asked Andrew. Dumbledore pointed to a portrait of a knight to the left of the gargoyle and a portrait of a dancer to the right. It wasn't that Hermione hadn't noticed the pictures before, it was just that she'd never given them any thought. It made sense, though. As head boy and girl, they were rather above having a house. They were representative of the entire student body.

Dumbledore led them through the knight portrait. Hermione wondered if all portraits of a certain size led into rooms. Dumbledore pointed out a bedroom and a small desk area, a fire place and two doors.

"On the left, you'll find a bathroom. On the right, if you tap your wand three times on this stone," he pointed to a stone, "and say whatever house's common room, it will lead you right there," he pointed out. It all made sense now.

"How convenient," murmured Hermione. "What about other areas of the castle?" Dumbledore smiled benignly at her.

"Some places, yes. Others, no," he said. "But I've got to be off and you both have work to do as well. You know how to set the password?" They both nodded yes, they'd been taught that as prefects. Left alone, Andrew looked at her.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked. At first, she didn't understand the question. Then she realizing that being the head boy was probably the most exciting, frightening thing he had endured thus far. She was one of Harry Potter's best friends. She had found the department of mysteries, fought death eaters, come face to face with Voldemort… she had bed Severus Snape! Head Girl, to Hermione, was simply a forgone conclusion.

"You'll be just fine." she assured him. She left his portrait, reset her password as "Restricted Section" and entered, pleased to find all her possessions, already put in their places. She liked order. She looked at the two doors. She wondered. Walking up to it, she tapped the stone three times and said, "The Library." She pulled the door open and saw rows and rows of books. She smiled, closing the door. She repeated her actions and said, "The great hall." The door didn't open; perhaps it was too public of place. Tapping three more times, she took a deep breath and said, "Snape's rooms." the door didn't open but it did crack open when she called for the potions classroom. The room was dark and still and she couldn't tell if she felt relieved or disappointed. Finally, she called for the Gryffindor Common room and went to meet her friends.

oooo

Potions class was really no different except for that she was without Ron and Neville who had not made it into the NEWT level. Harry had scraped by. She sat nervously in her same seat, second row from the front. Part of her wanted to move up a row, and another part wanted to sit in the very back, on the shadowy, Slytherin side. Instead, she chose her usual seat, knowing it was best to act normal even if her heart was beating wildly at the thought of him banging into the classroom and barking instructions in the same, hoarse tone he had groaned her name.

She wanted very much to see him, to talk to him, to ask him what he was thinking, what he felt about her. Why had they kept such a distance? She knew the answer to that. Before, she had been sick and it was okay and then they were in the safe house together and it was okay but now she was healthy and a student and anything they did outside of the student-teacher relationship was simply not okay. She could be expelled. He could be fired. It wasn't worth that was it?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Snape's office door opening and the room falling to silence. After seven years, these students knew how to behave in Snape's class. He stalked to the front of the classroom and turned around. The students stared back at him. Hermione hoped her gaze was even, although she felt there was a circus within her chest. He looked at her but did not smile or glare.

"Most of you will drop out of this class before the end of term," he said.

Potions class had begun.

Before too long, they were brewing. Hermione sat beside Harry now that she was not saddled with Neville any longer. He had come in moments before Snape and was mostly silent through class. They were a good pair. He was decent in potions when he wasn't seething with anger toward Snape all the time. They seemed almost cordial toward one another – in that they ignored each other instead of picking fights all the time. She wondered about that. She could hear Snape's boots on the stone floor. He was making his rounds, checking on everyone's progress. He felt his robes brush her fingers as he walked by, but he did not stop. The smell of him nearly unraveled her. Her eyes brimmed with tears, suddenly. She wanted what they had back.

Harry, having looked up as Snape walked by, saw how red in the face Hermione had begun. He knew when she was holding back tears. He wasn't sure what had conspired between Snape and Hermione but he reached out and gave her hand a squeeze anyway.

After class, Hermione claimed to have left her quill and ran back to get it. Snape was standing in the room, examining vials of potions against the candlelight. He turned when she opened the door and nodded.

"Miss Granger," he said, softly.

"I left my quill," she said, walking over to the desk.

"Did you really?" he asked.

"No," she said. "But I was going to conjure one all the same. Are you… I mean, how do you feel?" she asked. Her words stumbled over each other.

"After the defeat of Voldemort?" he supplied. She nodded. He looked over her shoulder, making sure none of his next class was straggling in early. He deftly rolled his left sleeve and presented to her his dark mark. It was still there, the lines visible, but it was definitely fading. Grey, not black.

"It's going away?" she asked.

"I suspect my body is healing," he said. "The magic that held it there, Voldemort's magic, is gone." He was free, in a sense, to some degree.

"I'm glad," she said. "Severus, I'm sorry that I…" She trailed off. "I'm sorry." He nodded.

"Things did not go as I would have hoped," he said. "Then again, you've already given me more than I've hoped for." She smiled, and stepped toward him. He held up his hand and stepped back. "Back to normal, Miss Granger. We must go back to normal," he said, in that same hoarse voice. What could she do but agree?

"I know, but I miss you," she said. He said nothing, but handed her a quill from his desk so that she didn't have to lie to Harry or make one of her own. She took it.

oooo

She officially came of age September 19th and expected nothing because she didn't mention her birthday and in the past, nothing major had ever been done. When she went down to breakfast, Ginny had bewitched a banner to the wall between the two windows that read, "Happy Birthday, Hermione!" and it roared when she walked into the room.

"Thank you," she said, sitting down between Harry and Ron. She glanced up at the high table but Snape rarely came to breakfast and she imagined he didn't know it was her birthday anyhow. When the food appeared, Harry stuck a few candles into her stack of pancakes and lit them with his wand. The first time he had done this, most people had stared at him like he'd lost his mind but both Harry and Hermione had grown up Muggle and she liked to blow out the candles and make a wish. She sucked the syrup off the bottom of them and flicked the bits of wax of her food with her fork tines.

Later, after all her classes and a few gifts from friends (mostly candy), she finally went back to her room. She set her heavy shoulder bag on the chair near the fire place and went to throw her self down on the bed. She paused, though, as there was an interruption of color across her bedspread which was uniform in its purple serenity. There were flowers there, well, three flowers, white roses if she wanted to be precise. They were long stemmed with the thorns removed and she was unsure how long they had been there, but they still looked freshly cut and close to them, she could smell their delicate fragrance. She picked them up and smiled. There was a note underneath and so she set the roses on her bedside table and opened the blank envelope. There was a drop of wax on the back, red wax, but no seal. Inside, Snape's spiky handwriting was all over the page. Her name was at the top. He had written her a letter. She sat down on the foot of her bed, to read.

Hermione,

You suspected I would not know, but how could I not be aware that today you have become fully yourself? And so, to get formalities out of the way, Happy Birthday. Now, to also get this out of the way, I apologize as to how things have been lately. Perhaps I was too harsh the other night, too harsh when I told you things were to be strictly back to normal. That is impossible for to me, nothing about you is normal in the sense of a student or in the sense of a woman. I do not deal with people directly unless forced but for some reason, I see you when I close my eyes and it makes me wish I could always be sleeping, and often blink.

Regardless, the rules have not changed and so I propose this: correspondence. As I cannot see you outside of class or the duties you hold as head girl, I think that letters are not wholly out of the realm of possibility. I want to speak with you and this is the only way. Please keep me in your life, Hermione, no matter what comes.

Affectionately,

S.S.

She put the letter down, slightly awed. She had been so confused, so hurt since the end of the battle and since Harry's return about what had happened and what would happen between them but now she had proof that he did care for her as she cared for him. She put the flowers in a vase on her night stand and the note under her pillow. She wanted to rush to the dungeons now and throw her arms around his neck but the letter made it clear that if they were to stay 'together' in any sense, that it was to be through the written word.

Her first instinct was to write him back directly. To tear open her book bag and find her quills and ink and parchment and pour out her heart to him but instead she waited. She would sleep on it – both figuratively and literally. She kept the note under her pillow as she slept – listening to the slight crinkle of the paper as she moved her head restlessly. When she woke the paper was no longer smooth or crisp. It was laced with minute wrinkles. The words were still clear and she felt more clear herself. She rose, dressed, packed her things and slid the letter in between two large books on the upper most shelf of her bookcase.

She had trouble paying attention with the level of precise focus she was used to in her classes. She didn't have potions that day and she was glad. She was distracted because she was crafting her response in her head. Her last class first the day was History of Magic and for the first time she, like every other student, set down her quill after the first five minutes and let her mind wander. Before she knew it, the bells were thundering just above them and everyone was gathering their things and hurrying down to the last meal of the day. Hermione went because she was expected to but she ate very little and spoke even less. Snape ate his dinner in much the same way – neither looked up and both retired early. She felt she could relax only when she was shut up alone in her room. She took off her shoes, her robes, her tie. She sat at the desk and carefully, with great intention, smoothed out a roll of parchment and spent minutes sharpening the nub of her favorite quill to perfection. She chose black ink because he had chosen the same. Finally, with certainty of mind and hand, she began.

Severus-

I accept your proposal of correspondence, though I admit I was surprised to receive such a personal gift from you. I do think of a letter as a gift (although the roses were much appreciated and very beautiful) and I think that letter writing is a lost art. Perhaps not so much in the magical world but it definitely is where I come from. Even still, people who are in the same building do no often speak to one another through the written word. And so, now that I have accepted, the letter writing can commence. Were I to be with you this warm, autumn evening, I would sit beside you with tea and ask you about your day. I would tuck my feet beneath me (as the stone floors of the dungeons chill me) and rest my head against your shoulder. I would let the warm timbre of your voice lull me to sleep.

I worry about Harry. He doesn't speak. Do you know what happened? Are you truly safe now, or should I worry about you as well? Think of me while you sleep.

Hermione

She changed into casual clothes and put her outer robes back on. It was time for her night patrol. She and Andrew rarely ever did anything together. When Hermione patrolled, Andrew got the night off. The halls were deserted except for the occasional prefect and one or two staff members. Hermione had never come across Snape during her patrols so she assumed that he had arranged it to patrol on Andrew's nights only. However, Andrew had patrolled for her on her birthday and so tonight was not regularly her night.

Walking past the hourglasses in the front hall (the gemstones were still for the night), Hermione saw him out of the corner of her eye. He thought she was a student at first, she could tell by the way he spun around to face her so abruptly.

"Professor," she said. "Just doing my rounds."

"Miss Granger," he greeted. "Carry on, then."

"I have something here for you," she said, pulling the letter from her robes. She extended it toward him. He stared at it in her small hand. "Would you rather I owl it to you?" she asked. This snapped him out of it and he took the note; tucked it away. They parted and Hermione skived off the rest of her patrol, opting for bed.