First of all, I have to admit that I am not a native speaker, so there might be a few mistakes, but if you were so kind as to write me a message to tell me of them, I would immediately correct them.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I don't earn my money with these stories.

Whenever I heard this song, I thought about Severus and Hermione… This story was written during the National Novel Writing Month 2021.

Update: Unfortunately, I had to remove the lyrics because of copyright. Please listen to the song "Avalanche" by Leonard Cohen and have a look at the lyrics before reading the story.

Avalanche

Severus Snape sat at his desk, grading essays. This was what he hated the most about being a teacher – it was so tedious! And it often seemed that the students didn't really learn anything from it. Maybe he should have sought another job when the War ended…

His head shot up when there was a knock on his door. He looked towards the clock on the wall which showed half past nine in the evening. Who would want to speak with him this late?

"Come in," he called and was surprised when a moment later the bushy head of Hermione Granger appeared.

"Professor, do you have a minute?" she asked politely.

He indicated towards the chair in front of his desk, and she stepped into his office and sat down.

When she remained silent, he said: "Miss Granger, what can I do for you?" He had never had anything against the girl and was vastly impressed by her performance during the War. Which didn't mean that her studious manner in his class still irritated him. No one liked a swot – he had experienced that when he was in school…

"I was thinking about my future," she started and looked into his eyes.

"You should," he replied dryly. She had only two more months before her graduation and the whole world wanted her. It hadn't surprised him that she had returned to Hogwarts after the War. In contrast to her dunderhead friends, she appreciated education, something that would make any teacher smile.

She ignored his comment and instead took a deep breath. "I realised that I want to stay in Hogwarts a bit longer."

"I believe Professor McGonagall is offering an apprenticeship," he remarked. "And Professor Flitwick would be more than happy to have you."

"What about you?"

He merely raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like to… have me?"

"As an apprentice you mean."

"Of course," she smirked, "what else?"

He cleared his throat. "Tell me why you want to become a Potions Mistress."

And Hermione started her apparently well-prepared speech about why she loved Potions and research and that she wanted to change the world for the better by creating helpful potions.

Severus only listened with one ear, too busy imagining his life with her being constantly in it for one and half years. It could work, he realised, though it would be difficult.

"Alright," he said, noticing too late that he had interrupted her. "You can be my apprentice."

Her face erupted into a sun.

"But," he added sternly before she would be delirious with joy – Merlin knew why, "I want absolute obedience from you. We are not going to be friends!"

"Of course, sir," she replied, her smile never fading.

"Good. We will work out the details later, you should go back to your dormitory now."

Hermione stood up. "Thank you," she said. "You won't regret it!" And then she almost danced out of his office.

"I'm not so sure about that," he murmured. Then he shook his head to get rid of her smile and continued to grade the essays. With a smirk he realised that next year she would be doing this tedious work for him.


Severus walked towards the Great Lake. It was past curfew and the grounds lay forgotten in the dark of the night. At the bank, he looked over the water. It was silent, peaceful, and he could finally breathe again.

He had wanted to change after the War, become more social, more friendly, more… light. But it didn't work. He couldn't pretend that nothing had ever happened between him and his colleagues, him and his students. He remembered every time he had hurt someone, physically or verbally, every time it was Voldemort's and the Death Eater's fault that someone had lost a loved one or were threatened or tortured. And he had been a part of that organisation though he rarely had to participate in any real action.

Hogwarts reminded him daily of everything horrible that had happened to him and others over the last three decades. Only when he was alone and outside in nature could he relax and be himself, though he wasn't sure who that person was now. With Voldemort gone where was his purpose in life?

He turned around and looked up at the dark castle. Hogwarts had also brought joy to him, though he could count the happy days he had spent here on one hand. Maybe that was why he had stayed: in hope for more joyful days now that the bleakness of the world was gone.

He sometimes wished he could obliviate himself and start over. "Hello, my name is Severus Snape and I'd like to be the new Potions teacher." But who was he without the life he had had to endure?


The first few weeks as Severus' apprentice were probably the hardest for Hermione Granger, but he had intended it this way. He showed her precisely how things went in his lab and chambers. She had her own room, next to his, but now they shared a bathroom, kitchen and living room, and since he wasn't used to sharing his private space, she irritated him all the time. He hoped she would learn his ways sooner than later or the next one and a half years would be dreadful for the both of them.

"No, Miss Granger!" he would shout when he entered his lab. "I told you the Lacewing Flies go there!"

Or when they said down on sofa and armchair in the evening to read, he would remark: "Miss Granger, how often do I have to tell you to use a coaster for your tea mug!"

She seemed to resent him for that, but it had never been a secret that working and living with him wouldn't be easy, so what was she expecting?

Fortunately, Miss Granger was one of the most intelligent students that ever went to Hogwarts and picked up everything quickly, though he made it seem as if she were supposed to know everything already. So after a while he had nothing left to shout at her and their time together began to get peaceful.


She still irritated him immensely. While brewing together, they were bound to be close and touch each other on occasion. She stood closely next to him when they looked together into a cauldron for a change of colour. Their fingers grazed each other's when they gave the other an ingredient or utensil. But she seemed to touch him more often over time. When she squeezed next to him in the small space of his lab, her hand would graze his side, as if by accident. When they gave each other something for brewing, she was making sure that her fingers touched his hand somehow. And then one day, after a very long day of brewing and researching but with excellent results, she gave him a short hug when they said good night.

"What are you doing?" he asked her at once, sounding weary.

She smiled at him and said: "I want to be friends with you."

"I told you at the beginning that we wouldn't be friends."

She smirked at him. "We both know that was a lie."

Before he could reply – how ridiculous that notion was, that no one wanted to be friends with him, that they had a professional relationship, that if he had a friend, he hadn't had them for long – she had quickly exited the room and left him with his treacherous thoughts of what if.


They often worked late into the night and forgot to eat dinner, too focused on their research. He would never admit it but working with Hermione was splendid. She was the perfect assistant who thought for herself and could see if something needed her attention. He was already dreading the day she would leave though she had only been with him for two and a half months.

One day Hermione started to bring biscuits from the kitchen for them. Some with chocolate, some with vanilla sprinkles, but all of them healthy oat cookies that could easily work as a substitute for dinner once in a while. But he ignored them adamantly though she kept offering them.

"They're really good, sir," she would say, swinging the plate of biscuits in front of him, their scent mouth-watering. "And you haven't eaten lunch."

He would refuse her every time, and though she never gave up, she also didn't ask so often anymore. He couldn't allow her this kindness; he knew he would grow dependent on it and what should he do once she had left him? No, it would be best to ignore her as much as possible and not transform their professional relationship into some form of companionship or even friendship.

One morning he woke up on the sofa in his living room, his neck hurting from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in.

He sat up and noticed a soft woollen blanket over him. It was the green one from his bedroom. Confused he looked at it until Hermione entered the living room.

"Good morning, sir," she smiled. "You fell asleep on the couch last night."

"Did you put the blanket on me?"

She blushed slightly. "I didn't want you to get cold once the fire was out."

For one moment he stared at her stunned, then he jumped up and went to her. Looking at her furiously he snarled: "You had no right to. You have no right to! I don't want you snooping around my bedroom and putting blankets over me! And don't bring any more biscuits. Food is not allowed in the lab. Do you understand me?"

She looked up at him, tears forming in her eyes, but she answered firmly: "Yes, sir." and then vanished back into her room where he could hear her cry quietly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and brought the blanket back into his bedroom. He couldn't let her be this kind to him, she shouldn't touch him and show him that she cared. His heart would betray him and sooner or later she would leave him and let his heart crumple into an old, dried fruit...


Severus sat in his favourite armchair in front of his chimney and stared into the flames. It was Christmas Eve, and he was alone.

"I could stay," she had offered but he had declined.

He didn't, shouldn't need her and why would she spend the most enjoyable festivity of the year with her taciturn colleague? She was way better off with her friends at the Burrow and her parents at home. He wanted her to be happy, so he would continue to ignore her.

He didn't need her or anyone (Minerva had also offered to spend Christmas with him). He would just sit here, drink Ogden's finest whiskey and probably read. He tried to look forward to Christmas as it meant time he could spend alone where no one bothered him and he had time to do whatever he wished.

But now… now he wished he wasn't alone.

The next morning Severus was surprised to find a Christmas package from Hermione at the end of his bed, and when he opened it, he found the most considerate present anyone had ever given him. It was a book he had mentioned some time ago about herbs and plants of the desert. It had been incomprehensible to him that the great Hogwarts library didn't have such an important volume and he had tried to find it elsewhere but to no avail. Hermione, who apparently had too much free time, must have tracked it down and bought him a copy. He just hoped it hadn't cost a fortune.

His cheeks reddened in guilt when he realised he hadn't sent her a present. He could quickly find something before she returned but it felt false. He would thank her for her present and that should be enough.


It was a warm spring day, shortly before the Easter holidays that Severus noticed he was content. Or at least more content. He was free of two masters, the War was won, and Hermione was with him most of the time, an ever-shining sun in his dark dungeon and thoughts. And though he was in the Great Hall at breakfast, meaning there were hundreds of students around him, he smiled. Just a bit, but he did smile.

"It's so good to see you smile, Severus," Minerva suddenly said and his smile vanished at once. "What a triumph for all of us that Hermione became your apprentice."

He played dumb. "I don't know what you mean," he said uninterested and drank a sip of his black coffee.

"Oh, I know you do," Minerva replied, always the one able to look right through his facade (except when he had killed Dumbledore and became Hogwarts' headmaster; but grief blinded all). "Ever since Hermione became such an important part in your life, you have been happier and thereby friendlier to everyone." She smiled at him like a loving mother.

He harrumphed. "I am not. The students still hate me and I hate them."

"But it's true," Pomona decided to join their conversation. "Even my Hufflepuffs tell me you improved your teaching methods greatly. You're still strict, which is good in Potions class, I know that, but you're not unfair or bitter anymore. They can actually learn something because they don't fear you anymore."

"And you have talked to me a great deal more," Filius joined from their other side. "And regularly play chess with me in the teachers' lounge. You have never done that before Hermione became your apprentice."

"Has any of you considered that the reason is simply because a certain mad man who has tormented me for years is dead?" he snapped back. He didn't like this conversation one bit.

"But, Severus," Minerva said in her stay-reasonable voice, "last year the War had been over for almost a year and you were still a snarky bastard."

"Maybe I needed to get over that trauma first."

"Yes, with the help of our dear Hermione."

He didn't know what to reply to that, for he knew it was true, but he didn't like his nosy colleagues finding out. Before he had found a witty comeback, however, Hermione entered the Great Hall and made her way to the teachers' table.

"Not a word to her about it," he hissed at his colleagues and when Minerva smirked, he realised he had just proven her right. He just hoped they respected him too much to taunt him and Hermione about it. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

Hermione greeted the teachers in her normal friendly voice and sat down next to him where she always sat. "Good morning, Severus."

"Good morning, Hermione," he replied politely but kept busy pretending to read the Daily Prophet.

Only when she started a conversation with Pomona next to her and the Herbology teacher didn't comment, he started to relax.

He had one year left with his dear Hermione – he should enjoy every second. But at the same time it would be so much harder to part eventually.


On the two-year anniversary of the end of the War, the Ministry threw another ball to celebrate it. Severus hadn't been there last year and he had no intention of going this year either – these events were merely for politicians to shine and shower the fortunate with prestige. This was something Lucius Malfoy would have enjoyed if he had still been in society's graces, but Severus hated it. And he was adamant to stay in Hogwarts and just ignore the whole day until Hermione begged him to come. Well, she hadn't begged, not really, but she had said: "Please Severus, it's not going to be the same with you." And then she had added: "I can go as your date."

And though he had rejected that idea and told her they would merely go as friends, he was pleased to spend one evening with Hermione outside of Hogwarts.

Since the gathering was a formal ball, he wore black dress robes (he had last time worn these at the Yule Ball for the Triwizard Tournament) and she wore a long elegant dark green dress with silver patterns around the hem, waist, and neck. He had noticed the Slytherin colours at once but hadn't commented; maybe they only complemented her brown eyes and hair.

They made their way to an old barn the Ministry had magicked into a beautiful spring world. When they entered, Hermione took his arm, and he was proud to be with her.

They made their rounds greeting people. He knew Hermione detested small talk as much as he, but she was better pretending she liked it and so he let her do most of the talking. Harry Potter nodded at him with some respect, but Severus still couldn't deal with him. He would forever stay a blurred image of Lily and James and he would never be able to see the unique man the boy had become.

When the buffet and dancefloor were opened, Hermione dragged Severus onto the dance floor where they danced in a tasteful manner.

"This is ridiculous," she suddenly mumbled and for a moment he thought she meant him, but her gaze was elsewhere. When he followed it, he saw Draco Malfoy shaking hands with the new Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. "These anniversary parties are a joke."

"Then why did you want to come?" he asked incredulously. They could have stayed home and enjoyed the evening in quietness?

She looked back at him and gave him a half-smile. "Because it's important to see the people you fought with together. So that you can celebrate but also grief together. To remind us all why we had to endure years of pain and darkness." Her eyes glazed with tears and without thinking about it, he stroked his thumb over her hand which made her smile at him.

They were interrupted by Kingsley's assistant, a mousy little witch, announcing that it was time for the speeches.

Severus groaned. Now came the worst part: speech after speech about the losses and heroes of the War and that in the future we should all live peacefully and happily ever after. His only consolation was that Hermione sat next to him. And truly Minister Kingsley started with exactly what Severus had anticipated: Harry, Ron, and Hermione (who blushed furiously) were praised. But then he added something unexpected.

"There is also a man among us tonight who I am very happy to welcome," Kingsley said and his eyes fell on Severus. "Severus Snape risked his life for many years, working as a spy for our side while fooling Voldemort into believing he was his pawn. As a Death Eater enduring torture and having to do unspeakable things to gain valuable information. It is with my greatest respect that I thank you, Severus, for helping our side and bringing the finishing touches to the destruction of the worst wizard of the century." Kingsley smiled and everyone clapped in applause, though most rather politely.

Severus stared in shock, then he simply stood up and left the room. He knew the people would start talking about him and gossiping about why he would leave after such an honour, but he didn't care: the people had been gossiping about him for years…

He was glad when he left the barn and walked towards the dark trees of the forest nearby. Here he could finally breathe again.

"Severus!" Hermione called and hurried towards him. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," he replied without looking at her, but he clenched his fists.

"Then why did you leave?" Her voice was so concerned that he couldn't hold back anymore.

He turned towards her. "I am not a hero," he explained through gritted teeth. "I tortured people, I hurt people, and I killed Dumbledore. And the people in there," he pointed towards the barn, "seem to have forgotten that I joined the Dark Lord on my own accord when I was 18. I don't deserve their kind words or any kindness at all."

She stared at him for a moment, her face full of worry and pain, then she stepped towards him and hugged him.

He didn't know what was happening, but her arms were around him and her cheek lay against his chest.

"Severus," she said calmly. "You have suffered enough for your mistake. You are redeemed and you do deserve kindness. Please accept that you are a good person."

Slowly her words sank in, and he put his arms around her and pulled her close. And then suddenly he was crying. Not merely letting tears fall out of his eyes, but loudly sobbing, and he hid in her bushy hair.

She stroked over his back and told him that it was okay. And he knew that it was.

Everything was finally okay.


Their second year together started much better than their first year. By now she knew of all his ways and quirks and how to handle him in certain situations. This didn't mean she would submit to every bad mood he had and be an obedient little girl. It meant she knew when to talk to him and when to leave him alone, what he liked and what he didn't like, when to bring him a mug of tea and when to shout at him to make him realise his errors. It wasn't always harmonious between them, but it worked, and a new form of domesticity formed their lives.

One evening they sat together on the sofa, both reading, something they were doing more and more lately when he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked at once, concerned.

He nodded. "My eyes are just tired." He would never admit that he was tired, that he was getting older. But with her he didn't need to – she was too intelligent and perceptive to miss anything.

She laid her book aside. "Here, let me read to you." Gently she tucked at his book until he gave in.

"Would you like to know what already happened?" he asked, not sure how he should feel about her offer.

"That's not necessary," she smirked. "I actually know this one."

"Of course, you do," he mumbled, but the corner of his mouth moved upwards.

"Where were you?" she wanted to know and when he showed her the paragraph, she started reading to him.

She had a lovely voice, he had never really noticed it before, but she could make him imagine the story and forget about reality and that is all he ever wanted from a novel. Soon, he closed his eyes and just relaxed.

When she had finished the chapter, he looked at her to find her smiling at him in an almost enchanted way.

This soon became their habit. One evening she would read to him, another he to her. They chose a book together that neither of them knew yet to make it more interesting, though if he was honest, he didn't need a new story to be interested.

Over time their reading time in the evenings put them closer together. She would lean against him, or he would put his arm around her, or she would take his hand, and soon the evening became his favourite part of the day.


She started touching him more often. There were hugs and hands on his arm or back, sometimes even a kiss on the cheek. They were all friendly gestures but the way she looked at him sometimes gave him hope. He graciously let her but didn't comment on these touches and never encouraged them himself. He was sure she only felt pity for him and desperately wanted to be his friend. Also, he only had her for seven more months and shouldn't start anything with her now.


One night he awoke when someone screamed. In an instant he was up and alarmed, his wand in his hand. He needed a moment to remind himself that the War was over and that Death Eaters hadn't infiltrated Hogwarts and were murdering students.

Then he heard sobbing and knew it was Hermione. He had never entered her bedroom before but he knew first-hand how bad nightmares could be and didn't want to leave her in one. He sat down on her bed and gently shook her shoulders.

"Hermione," he said in a soft voice.

"No, please don't die," she mumbled, crying. "Don't die."

"Hermione," he was forcefully and this time she awoke.

With big brown teary eyes she stared at him.

"It's okay," he told her. "It was only a dream. The War is over."

Slowly she seemed to understand, but then she hid her head in his side and started sobbing.

He stroked her hair and back, murmuring comforting words, but his eyes started to water, and his heart clenched when he remembered his own pain the War had inflicted on him. He wished she could have been there for him to comfort him.


Once more Severus sat in his armchair and stared into the flames. Once more he was alone. Once more it was Halloween, and his eyes had no tears left. Once more she had offered to stay with him and once more he had declined. Now he desperately wished for her kindness, her friendship, her touch. He needed her more than he dared to admit to himself.


He was surprised when she offered once more to stay over Christmas with him, and she was surprised when he for the first time accepted. The radiant smile she showed him afterwards warmed his whole body and when on Christmas Eve he was not alone in his armchair but together with her on the sofa, he felt at peace.

She read to him Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol and they celebrated a quiet Christmas. Later that evening when they didn't want to read or talk anymore, she leaned against his side, and he put his arm around her.

He smiled when she snuggled closer to him.

"Merry Christmas, Severus."

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," he whispered and gently kissed the top of her head.


A week before Easter Hermione finished her apprenticeship with flying colours. No one had doubted it, but everyone had still celebrated and praised her. The teachers had organised a party for her, and all were joyful and even Severus smiled until he remembered she had to leave.

"To Miss Hermione Granger," Filius toasted. "Potions Mistress!"

On the day she had packed her things, he brought her to Hogsmeade where she would apparate.

"Thank you," she told him in a teary voice and hugged him firmly. "For everything."

He put his arms around her and wished she would stay in his embrace forever. "My door is always open for you," he said in a quiet voice.

Then she smiled at him, kissed his cheek, took her suitcases and with one last wave disapparated. She was now on her way to London where she had acquired a small flat and a job in the pharmacy in Diagon Alley. He hoped the people there knew how lucky they were to have her.

Only when she was gone, did he let his tears fall.

Back in his chambers, he could still feel her presence though her belongings were gone. He looked into her empty room and knew he would keep it like this, in case she ever came back though he doubted that very much. Maybe in a few months she would show up to have tea with him out of a feeling of obligation but that would be it and her next visit even longer away.

When he found a book of hers on the kitchen table, he started sobbing quietly. How was he ever going to live without her? How would he get used to being alone again?


He didn't want to spy on her but the next time he was in Diagon Alley, he just had to see her. He didn't walk into the pharmacy though it would have been easy as a potions master, but he was afraid of her reaction. Maybe she would smile at him, politely, but maybe she would also ignore him, glad to be finally rid of him. He just couldn't be sure and was too cowardly to find out. Instead, he watched through the windows, pretending to merely window shop. At first he could only see Mr Herb, the old man who owned the store, standing at the reception desk in his all-white coat. Severus had never understood why they all wore white – to better see the stains?

Then Hermione hurried through the door from the back of the shop, her hair bound back, her hands full of boxes she filled into the shelves. But what stunned him the most was that she wore black. His black. And even her robe had similarities to his trademark clothes. Why would she dress like this? Was she mocking him? He didn't want to find out so he turned around and quickly left before she could see him.


It had been two months since she had left. Two lonely, miserable months. Severus spent most of his evenings staring gloomily into the fire and remembering all the good times with her though they could never lift his spirits. He missed her so dearly. He had even tried to find companionship in his colleagues and though Minerva was a wonderful conversationalist and Filius played brainteasing chess, it just wasn't the same. He even thought about leaving Hogwarts at the end of the school year because he couldn't stand to be in his chambers, office, or classroom anymore. Anywhere he looked, her ghost was there. Where she had sat, where she had read, where she had laughed, and he just couldn't take it anymore. Maybe he needed a new start, a real new start. He was thinking about emigrating to America where no one would know him, and he had the opportunity to forget Hermione if that was ever possible.

A knock on his door startled him. His treacherous heart thought at once 'It's her!' but his mind reminded him that that couldn't be. She had no business with him anymore.

When he opened the door and Hermione stood in front of him, he blinked a few times. Surely this was a dream. But no, he could never dream her eyes right, and here they were sparkling and joyful as ever though Hermione bit her lip nervously.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he replied, completely stunned. What was she doing here?

"May I come in?"

"Of course!" He stepped aside and she entered. When he had closed the door, he stared at her. What was she doing here?!

She looked around the room and smiled. "Nothing has changed."

Your absence has changed everything, he thought but didn't dare to say it out loud.

Suddenly she turned to him. "I've missed you," she said and came closer.

"I've missed you too," he whispered.

When she stood closely in front of him, she looked up into his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, she admitted quietly: "I don't want to leave you."

His eyes stung. "I don't want you to leave."

She smiled and put her arms around him. He pressed her against him and this time they didn't let go for quite some time.

"I love you," she mumbled into his chest.

He tensed, then held her at arm's length, staring at her. "What did you say?" he asked stunned.

Her cheeks reddened but she repeated: "I love you. I have for quite some time actually."

For a moment he couldn't believe it. She was here. She wanted to stay and be with him. And she loved him.

Her face fell. "It's okay if you don't feel the same. I just thought you should know."

"But that can't be," he slowly said. "Are you sure?"

She chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure."

He had finally fallen off his stupor and captured her lips with his. She was here and she was his and he was hers and he would cherish her for as long as she wanted him.


Hours later she was asleep in his arms while he played with her wonderful hair. He looked at this beautiful woman who wanted to be with him and gave herself to him and wasn't repulsed by him but seemed as fascinated with him as he was with her. He had no idea how this could have happened, but he was sure not to complain either. For the first time in his life, he was truly happy.

THE END.