Chapter Seven

He woke with the dawn.

As the sunlight filtered through the tall castle windows, the man in the curtain-less four-poster bed groaned. With effort, he rolled onto his side, turning his back to the eastern windows, and dragged a pillow over his head. Seasoned as he was by residing in a dungeon for many years, even these efforts were futile. Shortly after the sun rose, so did Severus Snape.

Bleary-eyed and bitter, he threw on his robes and ran a hand through his hair. How long had he managed to sleep- three, four hours? Last night had been a long one. His tired eyes glanced over at the nightstand where he had thrown the pile of papers down after studying them late into the night. Three missing Death Eaters, he thought to himself once more. There were three enemies of the country running loose through Britain.

He was no fool. In the event that Voldemort was defeated, he had had little doubt that there would be escapees. But it wasn't something he gave much thought to, as his own survival had been something of a question. Now, in the light of the morning and with a growing headache, the realization weighed heavily upon the former spy that he would once again be forced into an ordeal that would most certainly be taxing. As he was the only known former Death Eater on the side of the Light, he knew he would be relied heavily on for the capture of his former companions. There truly was no rest for such as him.

With an irritated growl he snatched up the papers and stormed out of the quarters. The door slammed behind him and he winced, the noise vibrating through his already-miserable head. He needed to speak with Minerva, but first he would check on the infirmary stocks. With any luck, there would still be something for his pounding temples.


When Hermione returned to the Burrow shortly after sunrise, she was unsurprised to find the house completely quiet. Easing the door closed behind her, she tiptoed into the living room and settled herself onto one of the repaired sofas. It creaked as she sat- repairing could only do so much, and the Weasleys were going to have to replace much of their destroyed furniture before long. For now, though, the familiar living room brought the house a much needed comfort, despite its rickety longevity. It even smells the same, Hermione noticed as she buried her head into a throw pillow.

Much like the couches, Hermione was feeling a bit rickety herself. The evening alone had helped her immensely and she felt leagues improved from where she had been all week, but she knew that her night of clarity would only go so far. Now that she knew what the problems were, she needed to be actively fixing them or she, too, would fall apart.

Her lips parted into a long yawn and her arms stretched over her head before wrapping close to her chest. Her clear mind gave her the freedom to feel that her body was not well. Her lack of sleep had been hard to live on and she could feel herself fray at the edges. Her stomach churned, and she knew that she should try to find something she could eat, but she couldn't bear to move off of the couch. How she longed for a chocolate chip muffin… those muffins Snape had offered her seemed to be one of the few things she was capable of keeping down. Maybe it's the chocolate, she thought sleepily. He probably did it on purpose… if he didn't know I was in a bad way before, he certainly does now….


"Mione?"

"Let her sleep, Ron."

"But breakfast is ready."

"She can eat later. She needs to rest."

"Yeah… I guess you're right…"

Hermione didn't remember falling asleep, but was eased awake by two hushed voices above her. Despite wanting to bury her head under the pillow, she instead turned it slightly towards the others and gingerly opened one eye.

"Hermione!" Ron fell to the ground next to the couch and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She could see Harry behind him, and gave him a tiny wave as he turned towards the kitchens. "I'm sorry," Ron was saying, and she turned her sleep-fogged attention back to him. "You can go back to sleep if you want to. I shouldn't have tried to wake you up."

"No, Ron, it's alright," she mumbled, smiling sleepily. Stretching her body like a cat's, arms stretched high and toes stretched low, she felt her joints pop and sighed. Someday soon she should spend her nights in a bed.

"Listen, Hermione. I owe you an apology," Ron continued, rubbing her arm delicately. "Not just about waking you- about everything. I should have told you-"

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, it's not necessary. I-"

"But it is necessary! You were right, 'Mione, you should be able to trust me. And I kept this from you. I was being selfish, and you have every right to be upset!"

Hermione sat up. "Really Ron, this isn't the ti-"

"No, I don't want to wait," he argued, grabbing her hands as she tried to stand. "I need to get this out. You, me, and Harry- we're a family. And we need to tell each other what we're planning on. I promise to tell you from this moment on-"

"Ronald!" Hermione interrupted firmly as she stood. "This is very sweet and all, but I've really got to use the loo!"

As far as apologies went, that could have gone better. But, she reflected as she slammed the bathroom door behind her (which thankfully muffled her boyfriend's laughter), sometimes nature's call was more important than a smooth delivery.


Shortly after breakfast the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione collectively gathered in the front yard and apparated to the location of the funeral of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. It was a simple gathering- Order members and family gathered around morosely in a small cemetery. Wildflowers dotted the grounds.

While this was a particularly hard funeral for many, Hermione noticed how Harry seemed to struggle more than usual. He kept glancing over at baby Teddy, clutched in his grandmother's arms, and clenching his fists to keep the tears at bay- Ginny, her hand in his, kept flinching at the powerful pressure around her fingers, but never once let go. Hermione reached out and grabbed his wrist, and when he met her eyes he nodded in silent thanks. Being supported on both sides, he was able to lessen his grip on his girlfriend's fingers.

It was common knowledge that Harry felt unusually attached to Lupin. Being the friend of his father and his godfather, Lupin was a tie to Harry's parents that died with him. The two had genuinely cared for the other, and she could only imagine what the loss of this man did to her best friend. She wished that she could do more- take him away from here, make him forget- but she knew that she could not. It was important for him to be here. If not for Lupin, then for Teddy, a babe that Harry found himself dutifully bonded to.

The death of Remus Lupin was hard for them all, but to lose Tonks as well was truly heartbreaking. A fierce woman with a kind soul, she was truly a wonder. To be able to look a cursed man in the face and reject fear and trepidation in the way that changed both of their lives for the better was a feat so remarkable it was unlikely to be seen again. The world wept its loss of her. Hermione wept for her. As Harry had lost a mentor in Lupin, they all had lost a friend in her.

"I can't believe it."

Confused, Harry and Hermione turned towards Ron. He nodded towards the back of the gathering. "What is he doing here? He has some nerve, showing up."

They followed his gaze, and Hermione gasped softly. Separated from the group, withdrawn to the shadows of a nearby tree, stood a silent and brooding Severus Snape.

Harry tensed- her hand still holding his wrist held on tighter. "I don't understand…" said Harry slowly, his face constricting in confusion. "He hated Lupin… and wasn't too fond of Tonks, either. Why-"

"He's gloating," said Ron, glaring at his former professor as the older man met his eye. "The last of his so-called tormentors is gone. He thinks he's won because he survived them."

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed, forcing him to turn around towards the front. "That's a nasty thing to say!"

"You don't agree?"

"No I most certainly do not," she growled. "You weren't there when he found out about their deaths- he looked genuinely remorseful."

"You were?" Harry asked. "There, I mean. When he found out?"

"I told him," Hermione replied, thinking back on that day- the first time he had woken up. "He seemed… sad."

Ron snorted. "He's a bloody spy, Hermione. He's a good actor."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Are you seriously saying-?"

"Guys, hush!" Ginny leaned over from Harry's other side and glanced pointedly around them- they were gathering some attention with their hushed argument. Hermione leaned back in her seat and gave Ron a disapproving glare. She had plenty more she wished to say, but Ginny was right to stop them- this was not the time.


There were far more important things for Severus to be doing than to be standing here in honor of a dead man he cared so little about. So what drew him to the shade of this tree, open to ridicule and suspicion? It was no more for the woman lying next to the man, he knew that much. For while he had little hatred in his heart for Nymphadora Tonks, they were not, as one would say, friends.

No, he knew that he was drawn here today because of the man- the man so desperate to be accepted that he stood behind while his friends tormented an outnumbered classmate time and time again; so cursed that he could not ask for help when he so desperately needed it throughout his life; so blind that he could not see past a friendship to protect anything but a madman; so fearful that when it came to finally being accepted to the truest meaning of the world he ran like a coward in the name of kindness; and finally, so foolhardy that he would throw away his life in the fight for the greater good instead of enjoying the good thing Severus had never had himself just once in his entire life.

It took a great load of effort to admit to himself that he was not here to mourn Remus Lupin as much as he was here to mourn the idea of Remus Lupin; the falling of a kind man, whose actions- while innocent- killed not only himself but his wife alongside him. There was a tragic sort of poetry in the loss of these two. The legacy they left behind in the poster-child for war would grow up hearing tales of his parents- the brave, prejudiced werewolf who changed the very definition of the condition by showing how human a monster really could be; and a mother whose fierce love defied all propaganda of fear and created a beautiful story of love… it was frowned upon to speak ill of the dead, and for once Severus felt he could abide by that teaching.

He was deeply affected by learning of this man's passing, not only because of their history as enemies-become-colleague-become-comrade, but because of the lack of a future the man was now destined to. Remus Lupin had always to him been his opposite- faced with a great struggle he saw light where Severus only saw darkness, he saw strength where Severus only saw weakness. He saw love when Severus only saw pain. Without Remus Lupin, Severus was a man with no constant. Remus' presence in his life had grown to be a comfort of sorts, and he feared he might grow to miss it.

There was very little remorse in these ponderings. Severus knew that with the passing of this man, he was now free of the last of what tied him to the past. For the first time in decades, Severus could think only for himself, and while it was a feeling not without guilt, he felt freed.

That is, until he laid eyes upon Harry Potter.

Of course, nothing could free him completely in this world as long as Harry Bloody Potter still walked the earth. The young man was a constant reminder of who he used to be, and as long as he lived, Severus would never fully escape the past he so desperately wished to shed. He had lived there for far too long, and it grew heavy on his soul. The hatred he had for the boy had little to do with him as a person, but who he represented- and who Severus wished to forget most of all. A twisted combination of his best and worst memories as a child, the boy infuriated Severus beyond belief, and all he had had to do was exist.

Still, he considered as he turned away from the glaring eyes of Ronald Weasley, there was something to say for being free of the last of his tormentors. He was not particularly close to Harry Potter, and now that the war was over there was hope that the boy would fade from his life. He could live with that, he knew. He had lived through far worse.

The funeral ended. As he turned from the crowd, thinking a walk could only do him good, he was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Professor, wait!"

He glanced sharply down at the offending hand, and to the person it was attached. Hermione Granger shyly pulled her hand away, rubbing her fingers together. "I'm sorry, sir, I just… I wanted to catch you."

"So you have." He was shocked yet pleased to see that the Miss Granger from the night before seemed already to be a distant memory. The Miss Granger of last night was lost, breaking, scared. The Miss Granger standing before him seemed stronger, determined… frizzier. Almost as if the fire behind her eyes was producing static, and her hair had no chance. Still, it was refreshing to see this sudden change.

A moment passed between the two, one of silence as she looked over her shoulder. Following her gaze to the rest of her party, he said, "It seems as if your Mr Weasley does not approve of you speaking with me."

"Ron is a prat," she muttered, and her following blush as she glanced his way amused him. "Sir, I just wanted to say thank you," she continued in a rush. "For last night. If it weren't for you…"

She looked shyly away, biting her lip. "I'm very thankful for whatever brought you to Hogwarts last night, Sir."

He snorted, which seemed to shock her. Her eyes grew wide and her eyebrows knit in confusion, her mouth opening to say something, and then closing. It amused him- so much so that he decided to share with her what, exactly, the 'fortunate event' was that brought him to Hogwarts and that hallway the night before.

"My house was burned to the ground last night, Miss Granger," he explained, watching as her expression grew from confused to horrified. She really did have an incredible range of expressions. "I'm glad that one of us feels thankful for the situation."

"Oh, Sir!" her hands went over her mouth and she rushed out, "I'm so, so sorry! That was a terrible thing for me to say, Professor without knowing-"

"Miss Granger." He held up a hand to silence her. "Believe me when I say that in time I, too, will feel grateful for its burning. That house was held up by dust and dereliction. The only disappointment I maintain from losing it is that I am now, temporarily, homeless."

He could see in her eyes that she understood, and was reminded that she, too, was without a place to call home. Unless you'd include the Burrow, and if last night was any indication, she did not.

He grew uncomfortably aware of how chatty he had grown with her. Glancing once more towards her party, he added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Granger." He turned to leave.

"Professor?"

So close… he turned, slowly, back towards her. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Does this mean you'll be residing at Hogwarts for now?"

Why is she asking me this? Severus had the urge to simply walk away from this conversation, realizing with anger that he had been the one to bring it to this point. How was it that he was so uncharacteristically chatty with Miss Granger?

"The Headmistress has offered me a room for the time being," he answered slowly, his eyes narrowing as he looked over her features, trying to understand why she seemed to approve of that answer so.

"Then we may see each other soon," she smiled. "Good day, Sir. And thank you for coming," she added, before she turned back towards her party. "It was… kind."

He watched her leave, once more in amusement. Him- kind? She must surely be losing her mind.


In the week following the last of the funerals, Hermione felt accomplished. She had thrown herself into research about the wards. She helped Mrs Weasley shop for new furniture in Diagon Alley. She began helping Harry and Ron train for their Aurorship. And she, Harry and Ron were awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class in an lengthy event which preceded a night-long party where the trio were finally, finally able to truly enjoy the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.

Hermione's nightmares had not disappeared, but they had lessened, and so too did the circles under her eyes. She began to eat a chocolate chip muffin with breakfast, and she wholeheartedly believed that this was the cause of her stomach's sudden ability to hold things down. She was convinced to let Ginny give her massive mane a hefty trim, and was shocked at how much shorter and healthier her hair looked, bouncing around her shoulders as opposed to halfway down her back. It was an odd sort of relief, looking into the mirror and enjoying what she saw.

With the beginning of June just around the corner, Hermione felt better than she had in months.

During breakfast one morning, she received an owl. The rolled parchment landed in Ron's nearby porridge bowl with a plunk as the owl took off out the open kitchen window. Ignoring the expressed shock and irritation from the diners around her, she simply shook off the parchment and unrolled it.

Miss Granger,

The Barrier's magic around Hogwarts has faded to an acceptable level for us to begin our work. Please meet with the remainder of the team at the school gates where I have set aside a plot of land for us to begin our work. We will meet tomorrow the 1st of June at 8:30 in the morning for an overview, some practical exercises, and a quick lunch at Hogsmeade. I look forward to seeing you, my dear!

F. Flitwick

Handing the parchment over to Ron and Harry, who were eyeing her in anticipation, she spoke to the rest of the table, "Professor Flitwick would like the Ward Task Force to meet tomorrow. It sounds like the barrier magic has all but dispersed." A few people nodded.

Not much was said after that.


Severus Snape threw a similar bit of parchment aside as he sat by the fire of his temporary quarters. He had only just agreed to help the giddy little Charms Master the day before last, and already he was being called to the task. He took a deep swig of his tea before setting it on the end table and standing irritably. He had a trial to prepare for, a meeting to arrange with an Azkaban prisoner, and a home to purchase- and now he had these meetings to look forward to.

If he hadn't felt partially guilty for his actions as Headmaster over the past year, he would have told Filius exactly where he could shove his Task Force.

No matter- what's done was done. He would be there tomorrow, but right now he had more important things to take care of.

He left his quarters that morning already tired from all that remained doing.


"Hello everyone, and welcome!"

Professor Flitwick stood upon several crates at the castle gates in order to stand above the gathering of people around him. At a distance Hermione could just make out his petite frame teetering high on his tower and hoped that whatever spell he had cast to keep himself up there found no errant ward magic. As she approached, winded, her summer robes slipping from her shoulder, she scanned the crowd. Many Hogwarts professors were in attendance, including Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Slughorn, and…

Professor Snape?

Her arrival must not have been very subtle, for as she approached he had turned. Their eyes met, hers in confusion and his in amusement as she blew a curl from her face. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing that Professor Snape seemed to view her as if she was his personal entertainment, but she supposed it was better than some of his viewpoints of her from their past.

Professor Flitwick began to speak again, and with a gentle huff of laughter Professor Snape turned back towards the man towering above them. Hermione stared at him a few moments more before turning her attention to the front, still amazed at how quickly his opinion of her had seemed to change. Maybe there was some truth in the rumors, after all- maybe his ugly demeanor was an act.

"Unlikely," she muttered under her breath as she gave her tiny Professor her full attention instead.

Professor Flitwick was waving his wand. To his left, a number of doors much like those found in the castle were summoned to stand rigidly upon the grounds. "Since there are a number of novice ward casters here today," he explained, "I would like to encourage each of you to practice on these doors. Work to your skill level, whether it's casting a single spell or a layer of them. I have asked my colleagues to walk amongst you and offer advice if needed. Well, let's begin!"

Hermione's spirits soared as the group dispersed and a small grin spread across her face. She felt very confident in her abilities as she approached a door and pulled out her wand. After all, hadn't her wards protected her, Harry and Ron during their journey for the Horcruxes? Hadn't she managed to cast them every day for months?

Fifteen minutes later, after her spells failed once more to layer, she began to doubt herself. Biting her lower lip and staring at her wand in disbelief, she groaned, the crescendo of which rose into a small shout.

"Having some difficulties, Miss Granger?" A soft voice purred from behind her. Her body tensed.

Of course he'd be the one nearby. Internalizing a growl of frustration, she took a deep breath and turned towards Professor Snape. "Every. Single. Day. Every single day I made a working, layered ward around our camp, and now my magic is just- it's just not having it." She threw another spell angrily at the door, to no effect. "It's been less than two months, what on earth could have changed in that amount of time?!"

Professor Snape held up his hand as she raised her wand once more. "Stop. Just- just stop a moment."

Put off guard, she lowered her wand and turned her eyes to look at him. He was eyeing her quizzically; his head turned slightly, his finger running across his lower lip in thought. Under his scrutiny, she flushed.

Finally, as if a spell broke, he nodded. "Miss Granger, come with me," he said, walking away from the mass of people. After a moment of hesitation, she shook off her confusion and followed.

He led her to a quiet bit of shade on the opposite side of the gates, a large oak tree offering relief to their sun-warmed skin- something the both of them privately appreciated, for the two of them wore long sleeved robes. "Miss Granger," he began, turning towards her but looking over her shoulder towards the group of Task members, as if he were uncomfortable looking her directly in the eye. The slight action worried her more than being dragged away from practice. "You have had a very difficult time of things since the Final Battle. Your body was damaged. Your mind… is healing. Things like this…"

He turned his head, meeting her gaze abruptly. "Things like this will affect your magic, as well."

Hermione's stomach sank.

"My magic has been damaged?" It came out as a whisper, hoarse and choking. Her breathing quickened and her hand rose to rest on her midriff, her stomach abruptly flip-flopping. He hurried to reassure her.

"Not permanently. But if I'm correct- and I have very little doubt of that- your magic is dampened because of the physical and emotional trauma you've experienced. It is… not uncommon."

"How do I get it back?" Her vision grew cloudy- she blinked away unconscious tears and took a deep breath. You can't lose control, Hermione. Not here, not now. With effort, she focused on the words Professor Snape was speaking.

"You need to compartmentalize. When you cast, you carry the expectation of your words. It weighs you down. You must clear your head. Before you cast a spell, you need to empty your mind. Use-"

"Use Occlumency," she breathed.

Snape blinked. "I was going to say-"

"Teach me!"

"What?"

Hermione took a step closer to her professor, his eyes wide and body tense, unknowingly matching her own. "Please, Sir, teach me how to use Occlumency!"

Snape took an involuntary step back and crossed his arms. "I've taught you before. I'm not in a hurry to do so again."

"But this is different," she pursued. "This isn't something I can learn on my own. I need guidance. Please, Sir," she begged, "I can't lose my magic. After everything, I can't lose…"

A hitch in her breath brought her words to an end and, fingertips at her lips, she waited.

"You won't lose it," he grumbled quietly. She stared at him, determined, unwilling to be the first to break eye contact, to give up.

"Please," she whispered. Just one word was all she could manage from her tight chest.

Minutes passed.

Then, before her eyes, she saw Professor Snape transform. One moment he was hardened, unrelenting- he gave no outward signs as to his inner thoughts. The next…

She had never seen this man so sympathetic.

With a simple sigh his body relaxed, his rigid shoulders becoming loose and his arms unfolding. A hand reached up and ran fingers through his hair, and his eyes looked at her with a softened expression, his lips pulled in a defeated line.

"I am tired." His words gave her very little, but still she felt her hope rise. "I have much on my plate as it is. If I agree to do this, you must not fight me on anything."

"I swear I-"

"Listen to me, Miss Granger," he growled. "This is very different from classwork. This is invasive, tiring, and trying. This is something I can teach you, but you must not fight my methods, despite your discomfort. I cannot promise I will be kind. Do you understand?"

His words quieted her desperation and left behind a tinge of fear. She remembered Harry's account of how terrible his own Occlumency sessions were- she had always chalked it up to the hatred the two had for each other. She was less sure now. She knew Professor Snape's words were spoken honestly and that he wasn't trying to scare her away- if he had, he wouldn't have even offered to teach her. He knew what her answer would be. And so did she.

"I understand, Professor," she nodded. "I'll do it your way. When do we start?"


AN: It has been a while! I do apologize. I have taken up some extra duties as an admin for a (surprise surprise) Harry Potter Facebook page, have written a one-shot of these two wonderful characters for said HP page (which sadly did not win but hey- now that you're done with this you can find it on my profile!), and I've been very busy helping a friend with her wedding, of which I will be a part of in just a few weeks! This chapter has been written for a while, but the editing was rough. I just could not be happy with it.

With the last chapter I received some lovely reviews and I would like to thank everyone who reaches out to me. Your words mean so much to me and I love each and every review I read. Knowing that people are actually fans of my writing is such a good motivator to not give up on this! I may be slow at times, but I have no plans to quit. Thank you all for that!

Please, check out my one-shot, I Grew to Love You. It is my gift to you for putting up with me.