Severus Snape found himself once again standing in front of the Granger house. He had promised Hermione that he would come to renew his wards and to deliver the potions she needed to continue her recovery. If he were being honest, he believed that the wards he'd placed on last summer would hold should they be attacked, but now was not the time to be careless.
After the Department of Mysteries, the girl's safety was even more precarious. Antonin Dolahov may be in Azkaban now, but that was only temporary. The Dark Lord would not allow his most loyal to be imprisoned for long. Although Lucious may wish that he would after his failure. He would be punished and punished severely. He worried for his godson and Narcissa. Lucious may be many things, but he was also a devoted family man. Severus feared that it would be Draco and Narcissa that bore the brunt of that punishment.
He shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus on the issue at hand, the safety of the frizzy haired Muggleborn and her family. He had no doubt that Dolahov would come after her when the opportunity arose. He couldn't have been pleased that a 16-year-old girl had managed to get the drop on him. More importantly, the little witch was the only person to survive his treasured curse. He'd be wanting to correct that.
Hermione had apparently noticed his presence and bounced out the front door to greet him. She smiled brightly at him as if she had actually been looking forward to his visit. What a novelty, he thought. "Thank you for coming, Professor. I really appreciate this," she said beaming at him.
"It's nothing, Miss Granger, don't mention it," he drawled.
"Yes, it is, sir and thank you," she stated then hesitated, chewing her lips.
Severus rolled his eyes, "Out with it, Granger. I know you have something else to say."
"Well, you see. It's my parents. They would, um. Well, they would like it if you joined us for supper. When you're done here of course," she said quickly.
The wizard signed deeply. "I realize, I mean, I'm sure you're busy. I tried to tell them that, but they insisted. They said, that it was only right after coming all the way here to check their security system," the girl continued.
"Security system?" he asked.
She shrugged. "It was the easiest way of explaining the wards to them," she clarified. "Anyway, they said that the least they could do is offer you supper. It would mean a lot to them, sir. It would mean a lot to me as well," she mumbled the last part before looking up at him with a pleading look.
For Merlin's sake! Snape thought. He was supposed to be immune to such tactics, but damn it all, he just couldn't say no to her. He signed deeply. "Then I shall stay for supper," he conceded. "but only after the wards have been renewed."
"Of course, sir! Of course!" She smiled brightly and turned back to the door, calling behind her. "Don't worry, my parents are good cooks, I promise."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. That wasn't what he was worried about. He had no idea how he was to hold a conversation with the Muggles. Although, he was somewhat curious to meet the girl's parents. He had wondered about their relationship, and it may prove informative to see their interactions up close. That was the excuse he told himself anyway. There was no way in hell that he'd admit how much influence the little witch had over him.
Hermione had returned to offer him a cup of tea, which he took gratefully. Taking a sip, he made a mental note to teach the girl how to make a good cup of tea. The work went quicker this time, since the foundation had already been laid the previous year. The witch sat quietly on the porch and watched him work.
At last, he was done and lowered his wand. Hermione instantly jumped to her feet to usher him into the house. He felt like a dark cloud in this warm home. Love seemed to radiate from the very walls. In a way, it felt very much like the Weasley home, but more intimate and far better decorated. He'd almost decided to make his excuses and leave when the Grangers came to greet him.
"Professor," the middle-aged man said as he held out his hand to shake.
"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, thank you for inviting me into your home," he said as he shook the man's hand.
"Oh pish," the woman said from beside her husband. "It's an honor, and the very least we could do after all you've done. Please though, call me Helen and this is David." Her smile was identical to the girl's as was her hair. Well, almost identical, the woman's tresses were quite tame compared to that of her daughter.
"Thank you, you may call me Severus, and the honor is all mine," he responded. Hermione brushed past him to join her parents.
"Is supper done?" the girl asked.
"All done, pumpkin," her father said. "Right this way, Severus." He led the family into the small dining room. The table was set and the meal laid out.
"I hope you like Italian," Helen said. "I hadn't thought to have Hermione ask you ahead of time. David makes a fantastic lasagna."
"And you make a heavenly roasted asparagus, my Love," her husband replied, giving her a quick peck on the lips as he helped seat her at one end of the table and then sat himself at the other end. Unsure which of the two remaining seats he was to take, he waited for Hermione to sit before he took the remaining chair.
"It looks delicious," he said as he laid his napkin in his lap. He wasn't lying, the meal both looked and smelled divine. It had been years since he'd had a home cooked Muggle meal. He thought it may well have been decades.
They started with a small Caesar salad and began to chat. Severus was more than content to watch the small family interact as he ate. It was obvious that this was a happy home, full of love. It made him happy that Hermione had this in her life. All too soon though, the main course was passed around along with the roasted asparagus and garlic bread, and Severus was brought into the conversation.
"So," David started. "You are the potions teacher. That's like wizard chemistry or something, isn't it?"
"It's similar, I suppose. Potions can be used for all sorts of purposes. They can be made to remove stains or heal wounds. It's a broad subject with numerous applications," Snape explained.
"Yes, Hermione said that she has been taking potions to heal from her recent injuries," Helen added. "She said that you were bringing her refills today."
"Yes, Miss Granger, remind me to give them to you before I leave," he said as the girl nodded dutifully.
"I just can't believe that she tried flying a broom again," her father admonished. "You told me that you swore off flying in your 1st year."
"I did, Dad, but Ron challenged me to give it another go. It seemed like a good idea at the time," she shrugged.
This was news to Severus. The witch's fear of flying was well known. "Well, I hope you've learned your lesson, dear," her mother said. "You very nearly got yourself killed."
Hermione spoke quickly, "It wasn't that bad, Mum. Nothing that magic can't fix." She looked over to Snape looking somewhat frightened.
So, this was the excuse she gave for her injuries. "That's easy for you to say, but it was bad enough that you are still taking potions, and your professor here had to bring you refills," Helen apparently was no fool.
"Your mother is correct, Miss Granger. Magic or not, you should be more careful. You have little skill with flying and had no business trying it again after so many years with no supervision. You may not be so lucky the next time," the wizard added.
Hermione huffed at that and looked back to her plate. "Thank you, Severus. It's good to see that some people at that school have some common sense." Helen said looking directly at her daughter. "I swear her and those two boys seem to be trouble magnets."
Snape chuckled, "I agree."
Hermione looked up at him as if he'd betrayed her, and he couldn't help but laugh again. "Hermione says that you've been teaching her…what was it? Something about mind reading or anti mind reading?" David asked.
"Occlumency, Dad," the girl supplied. "It guards your mind against intrusion."
"Is that a big problem in the wizarding world?," David asked Snape looking somewhat uneasy.
"No, not really. It protects the mind from people who practice legilimency, which you could call mind reading. It is a rare skill that takes years to master, and few learn it these days," he explained.
"Then why learn to protect yourself from it, if it's so rare?" Hermione's father pressed.
"It has other benefits. It can help to control one's own emotions to prevent them from overwhelming you. With the O.W.L.S. coming up, Hermione felt it may be a good way for her to deal with the stress," Severus clarified. Hermione looked surprised but quickly hid it. He hadn't been a spy for years without learning to think on his feet. "Your daughter even compared it to Muggle meditation and mindfulness training. I had never thought of it in that way, but the concept is intriguing. She found that studying both the wizarding texts on the subject in conjunction with Muggle writings helped her progress quickly."
David looked over at his daughter with pride. "Well, she is pretty extraordinary."
"As long as she stays off brooms," her mother added. Hermione groaned, as the adults laughed.
*S*S*S*S*S*S*S*S*S*
Severus had been surprised by how….pleasant..the evening had been. He'd expected awkwardness but ended up with good conversation. Hermione's parents were intelligent and kind people who were obviously devoted to their daughter. He'd left with a full stomach and a parcel with dessert that Hermione insisted that he take home. She'd made it herself, hoping he'd like it. Tiramisu, he had to admit, he was looking forward to the treat once he had the ability to feel hunger again. He hadn't expected the Grangers to feed him as heartily as the Weasleys, but they definitely managed.
Hermione had promised to take her potions as prescribed and to continue her occlumency exercises over the break. He'd also permitted her to write him if she had any questions or had any complications from her "broom accident". He bid the small family goodbye, and they wished him a good summer. He returned to Spinner's End to enjoy his solitude once more, although, that solitude didn't feel quite as all-encompassing as it once had.