Chapter 2

In the kitchen she received kisses on both cheeks from Firdaus who appeared to be Souhair's slightly taller twin with longer, unruly black hair. Fatima was apparently the housekeeper and she did not speak so much as a single word in French and used a roughly carved wand to prepare lunch. She also met their nanny, Amina, who looked like Fatima's older sister and also did not speak French. Madame Soumali was as stunning as she had been when Hermione had first met with her and Minerva in Hogsmeade. She appeared to be in her late thirties and was simply beautiful, a perfect mélange of West African, North African and Iberian. Moroccan witches and wizards wore robes very similar to those of their muggle counterparts and Latifah's was a simple hooded robe in regal purple cotton with delicate embroidery. It could only just disguise the petite yet buxom figure Hermione observed wearing a skirt suit at their first meeting.

She welcomed Hermione with a multi-accented English spoken at a frenetic pace.

"Miss Granger"

Hermione started at the address given with so much authority. "Please call me Hermione, all of you!"

"My daughter tells me you have already seen Severus. He does not like to tell people he is here and neither do I, he is a hero of course, but so many would still like to see him dead on both sides."

Hermione looked at the girls and neither seemed to be upset by this rather brusque information. Firdaus had her hand in a targine, mixing wheat flour and water and Souhair was surreptitiously eating raw olives crushed with salt out of a bowl at the table. She put her pits into a smaller bowl and they disappeared instantly.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to refrain from telling people he is here, Minerva told me you would not need to make an Unbreakable Vow like the others, but still, I am concerned for his safety and comfort. All of the others requested he be obliviated from their memories. Really, he is just a man." A brief look of confusion appeared across her face. "I would have preferred of course to tell you there is another guest at the house, but you will not notice him except at dinner. The girls insist that he spend that meal with us at least. You are of course free to have the evening meal in your room or with us. The plans for the summer are the same as we agreed upon. The girls are yours for two hours everyday; the time of day does not matter. You have already prepared the syllabus with Minerva, working off what was accomplished last year? There are several occasions on which we will have to take the girls into town, probably overnight. It was not in our original agreement so I don't expect you to go, but you might enjoy the city after weeks out here. Tonight my dear Ayoob is having his birthday party, which I am certain I forgot to tell you, but come to dinner dressed formally. You probably didn't bring anything formal?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Anything in my closet is available to you, but you might feel more comfortable if you transfigure something into a fashion you are familiar with. Do you have any questions for me? You might be overwhelmed now, but think about it and ask me tonight. And please, call me Latifah,"

"Thank you so much for having me, Latifah."

"On the contrary, thank you. Minerva has been recommending you very highly for years, practically insisting that we approach you. Severus holds your abilities in high regard; he thinks you will be an excellent teacher to our girls. I'm glad you decided to come. Girls, why don't you show Hermione around?"

Hermione smiled, a bit confused. She had only been overcome by wanderlust over the past school year and had no desire to leave everything behind before then. But she trusted in the wisdom of her friend and figured there were signs that Minerva must have been reading, that she herself had not been aware of. She decided not to think about the compliment from Snape. At least not yet.

Hermione spent the rest of the day with the girls as they showed her the grounds and around the house. It was a beautiful house, full of large, elaborate sitting rooms set for tea with intricate, Byzantine moldings in marble or plaster and colorful mosaics of repeated patterns covering every surface. The library was near her own room and it was several stories tall with a giant skylight. The middle of the room was open creating a great airy space and the bookshelves were accessible by spiral staircases and walks along the walls of the circular room. The reddish wood of the bookshelves and the colours of the glass in the skylight contributed to the rosy colouring of the room. Hermione was pleased and knew she would have the more formal parts of her classes with the girls in here as well as spending many free hours here as well.

There must have been an air-cooling charm for the house because when she stepped outside all moisture from her body evaporated and she found herself licking her lips until they were swollen and chapped. The girls captivated her. They were incredibly smart and curious about the natural world around them and not terribly interested in distinguishing between the wizarding and muggle parts. She found herself at a loss on several occasions and made a note to herself to find some books on geology and botany that evening before bed. She discovered that the dry heat was a bit of a blessing for her hair, Instead of her customary frizz; her hair had combined into soft, large ringlets. She liked it.

She managed a little reconnaissance and learned from the girls that Snape was not actually their relation, but a good friend of their father's and he had been there for almost five years. Snape had come here after the war and aside from short trips to England, he had stayed here. He had a potions lab but the girls did not elaborate on how he spent his days when he wasn't at the beach and Hermione didn't want to ask.

She took a nap and was dressing for dinner as she had been advised by the girls to do, transfiguring one of her plain dresses into a cocktail dress they recommended after looking at the few articles of clothing she had brought and some of her magazines. She felt a little ridiculous at first and refused to do anything with her hair but decided to add a little lip-gloss for her ragged lips. She paused to admire the sunset from her balcony and looked for the dark figure in the sand. He was gone.

As she paused, incapable of exiting her rooms, she realized then how frightened she still was of him. She was as terrified now of Severus Snape as she had ever been as his student, and she had been since the turn of the war. She left England wanting to finally leave the war behind her and she was now about to face a man who represented the worst and the best that came out of it. She hated him but she also knew she owed him a wholly inadequate gratitude. She had come all this way to experience new things and face new challenges but she found herself at the mercy of a childish fear of her teacher, her own bogeyman. She was truly grateful to him but doubted he would suffer her vocalization of it. She shamefully thought that her bitterness towards him precluded his own forgiveness of herself and her friends, people who were indebted to him but wouldn't embrace him as their ally. But she also thought that she and the rest of the wizarding world deserved an explanation from the man who had taken Dumbledore from them. Her ambivalence paralyzed her until she reminded herself that he was after all, someone's "Uncle Severus." Her memories of the man could not accommodate this new personality and now, presented with a mystery, she wanted to solve it. What had become of Severus Snape? Erm, Professor Snape?

When she did peek into the dining room she nearly ran back to her own room not to change but to fix her hair. The room was a cacophony of colour: mostly reds and golds to her amusement, and sound. From somewhere she could hear music with a fast tempo and she recognized drums, stringed instruments, and some sort of flute. It matched the rhythm of her heart, quickening in time. Lush carpets lined the room that was magically surrounded by windows even though the room she had approached was in the center of the house. Under the windows were couches and cushions, leaning against the wall. There was a table in a room segmented by waist-high walls, also surrounded by rugs, couches and windows. It was about knee high and surrounded by cushions.

She had arrived in time for cocktails. Hermione knew muggle Moroccans didn't drink for religious reasons and was amused to see every Moroccan wizard and witch with a glass of wine or a cocktail in their hand. Latifah beckoned to her and Hermione went to her directly after locating Snape in the corner with three dignified looking gentlemen in crème-coloured solid and striped ijeliba/i and barefoot. To her surprise he was wearing a beautifully tailored black suit with a glass of what appeared to be whisky in his hand. He, too, was barefoot. She could not remember ever seeing him in anything but his teaching robes and briefly wondered what he had worn when he was fully undercover with Voldemort. Souhair and Firdaus were animatedly telling a story to the men and she felt herself relax when she saw the genuine, if restrained, amusement on his face. The girls waved to her and the Moroccan men smiled. Snape did not even turn to acknowledge her.

Latifah greeted her and brought her to a group of women standing beside two men sharing a hookah. The women all wore long, flowing dresses that appeared to be made of three parts, an under-dress, in a solid colour, and an outer dress with slits up the sides and long, flared sleeves. The dresses were cinched at the waist by wide brocade or gold belts. One woman's dress reminded her of the ceiling in the Great Hall. It was navy blue and appeared to be sequined but upon closer inspection Hermione recognized the night sky, complete with the occasional satellite, winking at her. She was kissed on each cheek by all of the women present, dizzied by their perfume and the softness of their cheeks. She thought about the last time she saw Harry, Ron and Ginny, hugging them all goodbye. She had been less emotional at that time than she was now. She was always irritated when Ron and Harry had made comments about PMS, but now she was certain her period would start tomorrow, nearly two weeks early. She was overwhelmed by her senses and inexplicably on the verge of tears. The woman next to her was wearing a stunning lacquer red Chinese silk. She knew it was Chinese because the embroidered dragon on it, shaking it majestic head, breathing thread-fire and tumbling from her arm across her back looked just like the dragon Barbara Streisand and Ryan O'Neal rode away with through the hills of San Francisco in "What's Up Doc."

She followed the conversation as best she could; it jumped seamlessly between Colloquial Moroccan, formal Arabic, and French. The women were all employed at the Moroccan Ministry of Magic and the Moroccan schools of magic or were otherwise prominent individuals in business or the arts. She sipped her wine and admired the scene, pleased with her French review and determined to master formal Arabic. She felt a little light-headed and when some of the windows slid open she welcomed the salty breeze.

"Ayoob!" the women chorused.

Hermione felt a hand under her elbow and turned to face a man in his sixties about her height. His eyes twinkled merrily as he accepted kisses and birthday wishes from the witches. Latifah swatted the last away and with hands on each shoulder, she kissed him full on the mouth. They were about the same height and a complimentary, attractive couple, but Hermione wondered about their age difference. They must be parted by at least 30 years.

"Have you come to feed Hermione? I know you are hungry."

"Well, I've come to invite her. The girls reminded me of my manners and I have not yet had the opportunity to speak to with their new teacher. Please, though, how is Minerva?"

"I left her very well this morning and in fact she asked me to wish you a very happy birthday!" Hermione did not add that Minerva had not told her his birthday was today, or that there would be a formal dinner party.

"That's lovely, thank you." His black eyes danced and Hermione felt her heart catch in her throat, reminded of another kind man with laughing eyes. She looked for Snape and saw him deep in conversation with the men she had seen him with earlier. Ayoob followed her gaze and smiled warmly at her. "Come, let's eat."

They sat at the table she had seen earlier, flanked by the girls. Targines appeared with lamb and chicken stews with peas, carrots, prunes and potatoes, bowls of hearty soup, plates of olives, dates, dried figs and walnuts, and oranges, bananas, pears, pomegranates and apples. She followed Souhair's giggled directions and tore off a small piece of the flat, circular bread. She pulled it apart so she held two pieces of crust and using her right hand, she crushed peas and potatoes with her thumb onto the bread, hooked a piece of meat, and scooped it all into her mouth. She couldn't help but giggle too, at the mess she was making. Firdaus tsked her sister and conjured cutlery for Hermione. Ayoob politely gave her the third degree and they enjoyed each other's conversation immensely. She had always been able to impress older witches and wizards, even muggles, with her intelligence and wit and found she wanted very much to impress this kind, wise man.

Souhair got up and returned a moment later leading her Uncle Severus by the hand and seating him next to Hermione. She once again felt a little light-headed and knew she needed to acknowledge him, but for the life of her couldn't figure out what to say. Hermione was rarely at a loss for words and she rather appreciated the fact that this man could still have that effect on her. Ayoob took the burden onto himself.

"Aah, Severus, you've come to join us."

Hermione turned to look at him and found this did not help her resolve to speak in the least. His face was a mask devoid of emotion, ironically familiar.

"Bon Appetit." She managed and looked quickly away. The rest of the party had slowly joined them at the table until it roared with laughter and conversation. She smiled and continued to drink her wine. With Ayoob and his friends she was in her element discussing her research and theirs, politics and everything else in general. The girls were collected by Amina and kissed everyone goodnight.

When Ayoob turned to answer a question in Arabic, she gathered the courage to tilt her head and look at the man next to her engaged in conversation in crisp French. They were all seated essentially on the ground, she with her legs tucked under her, a little to the side leaning on one arm. Snape had one long leg crossed in front of him and the other, nearest her, bent so his knee was about even with his chin. His right arm was draped lazily over it, straight enough so that his long index finger carelessly pushed an olive back and forth on the table. He was occupied in conversation so she continued her examination. She looked at his foot, flat on the ground. It was rather long and narrow. The nails were well cared for and the heel was smooth, probably from daily exfoliation walking in dry sand. When she had seen him earlier that day on his way to the beach he had been barefoot. Even in the darkened room, she could see his foot was tanned. She dared a glance at his profile and noticed how much healthier he looked than the last time she had seen him in person. The pictures they chose for the Daily Prophet while he was a fugitive and deep undercover were ghastly. When he emerged a hero after the war, he looked like he had been starved and subjected to cruciatus twice a day. If the stories were true, he had been. LV had stopped trusting him towards the end and used him as a punching bag. Hermione did not know the details of his release except Minerva had been the one to find him and it still upset her too much to talk about it.

His face was different, too, softer. He was disagreeing with the other man about brewing methods, but he was not sneering nor was he disrespectful in his argument. This made Hermione angry. Had he always been like this with people he respected? Had he saved his cruelty for the classroom and her friends both child and adult? Or was this a change brought from the war? And why should a stranger benefit from this newfound humility and not the others who had suffered his hatred for so long? This possessive thought surprised her. Had she missed his company in the past eight years? NO. Would she have even wanted a reformed Snape in her life during those years? So much time had gone by, more time even than she had had him in her life as a teacher. Who was this stranger beside her?

Everyone else got up from the table and redistributed themselves in the sitting room. More wine was poured and more men and some women sat slowly smoking hookahs and self-rolled cigarettes. She felt emboldened by her three glasses of wine and followed Snape to where he sat without his jacket a small ways apart from the rest of the crowd, below an open window.

"Miss Granger?" His address was questioning as he loosened the knot of his tie and undid the top button.

"Professor Snape." She had nothing to respond with but acknowledgement of him. They sat side by side quietly for a few minutes. They were surrounded by laughter and mirth and she wanted to cry. She wanted to grab him and shake him and explain her surprise and confusion at seeing him after so long and so much had happened and her fear of him and her gratitude but it all caught in her throat and she hoped he wouldn't ask her anything. Not yet. Sitting next to him, near enough to feel the heat of his body, was enough. Enough for what, she did not know, it was simply enough.

He smoked a cigarette, lighting it simply by looking at it. He took deep drags and sighed smoke contentedly out of his nose, ashing out the window. Two small coffees appeared on the small silver table beside him. He crushed his cigarette out on one of the saucers and handed her the other cup. She smiled without making eye contact. They sipped in silence. She was light-headed again; the smoke from the hookahs was affecting her and, undoubtedly, the wine.

She looked up at the Byzantine moldings framing the doorway and admired the intricacy. They looked like stalactites and they appeared to be dripping. The mosaics rotated and whirled and she could almost hear the tinkling of small pieces of glass. They reminded her of a beautiful glass kaleidoscope her mother had bought for her in Brighton when she was eight. She had forgotten about that. Hmmm. An enchantment, of course. The linear designs, both molded and tiled, rippled and constricted much like Devil's Snare.

Wow.

It was beautiful. The lines morphed and what had appeared to be geometrical shapes became little stick figures, running, jumping, hunting, and dancing. It was so beautiful. She breathed deeply. It was so beautiful it filled her with wonder and gratitude.

"It's so beautiful."

"Hmmm?" Professor Snape leaned forward towards her with eyes narrowing suspiciously. She recognized this face, the narrowed eyes and thinned lips that accentuated the sharp jaw and cheekbones. She admired the flawless skin on his lovely, lovely nose. She smiled wide, again gratified to experience something so beautiful in it's humanity. She kept his eye as she lifted her chin so he would follow her gaze to the moldings.

"It's so beautiful. Look at them run and jump."

He set down his coffee cup and looked at her again more intently but she was fixated on the ceiling with her mouth open and didn't notice. The two figures that had been dancing had stopped and were now doing something else. They were holding hands and they leaned their heads together. How sweet. She breathed deeply. One of them, the bigger one started to stroke the other one's head and now the body. They kneeled and one moved so it was on it's back, the other on top, beginning to move up and down, up and down. Hermione, entirely unaware, dropped her coffee and giggled bashfully, astonished by what she was witnessing.

"Professor! They're…"

She had stood up to quickly. The room spun and she blacked out.

She opened her eyes and spread out her hands and arms against the bouncing movement. Her hands came into contact with soft fabric and gripped firm legs; her forearms were resting on firm… Oh. Her face bounced against his back a few times before she was able to raise her hands to protect her face.

"Put me down"

No response. They continued on, turning a corner and through a door. He simultaneously genuflected and threw her so she landed on the bed flat on her back and bounced. Her stomach grumbled.

"Hogwart's Head Girl, indeed."

Snape conjured a bucket and handed it to her. She sat up and unceremoniously threw up into it. He took it from her and it disappeared. He waved his wand again and her mouth felt freshly brushed. And then she fell asleep.