A/N: I had meant to have this chapter up six days ago. That's how my week's been going! I hope you all are doing better. I am so relieved that the response from last week's episode was positive and that you seemed to have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hopefully things will be moving forward a bit faster between the two of them now that they have more of an understanding. Anyway, here's the next chapter for your (hopeful) enjoyment!
Chapter Thirty-One
"Could you hand me the Bitter Root?"
Severus was silent as he passed over the basket of prepared roots, and Hermione took it with a mumbled thanks. He didn't even look her way, though he had rarely looked up from his cauldron since she had joined him a few hours ago. His attention was focused entirely on the partially brewed wolfsbane before him.
She added the roots to her potion, waiting for the color to change from taupe to mauve, and stepped back from the table. "It needs to rest now," she said out loud. "I'm going to grab lunch. Do you want anything?"
He shook his head, concentrating on a complex stirring method in the cauldron. "I can't step away for quite some time, I'm afraid."
"Is there any part that's simple enough for me to take over so you could eat something?" He'd been at this for hours, even before she herself made it into the lab. She couldn't be sure when he last ate, and was sure that he wouldn't be eating again until this stage was complete.
He shook his head again. "This is a crucial stage that needs my full attention."
"Every stage of this potion is a 'crucial' stage."
His lips twitched in a lazy smile. "Be that as it may, I have brewed this potion many times before and managed to survive. I will be fine."
Her lips pursing, she watched him for a moment before shrugging. "Shout if you need me," she told him, turning towards the door. She knew he wouldn't, but she felt better offering.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, and Hermione let out an equally soft breath.
It had been three days since McGonagall had pulled the two of them out of their petty squabble, and while they'd more or less made up, a lingering tension still hung between them both. The weight of their actions sat heavily in the air, and while she couldn't be sure Severus felt it as strongly as she did, she knew it was affecting them both. The meals they shared were eaten in near-silence, their evenings were spent quietly reading or researching, and today was the first day he had allowed her back in the lab alongside him, claiming the toxicity of the wolfsbane in its preparation as his reason. She had her doubts, but didn't dare push him.
She warmed up a bowl of leftover potato soup and sat at the table. Looking out the front window, she squinted at the bright sunshine reflecting off the snow. Maybe she could get some fresh air today. It hadn't been sunny in days; it would be a relief to step out of these walls and shake off the slowly developing cabin fever. Perhaps she would get Crooks to join her. Resolved to do so once her potion was complete, she tucked in to her lunch.
The following day, Hermione found herself in the same seat, watching Severus root around the lower kitchen cabinets for extra potions supplies. Unabashedly enjoying the view, she asked, "Can I put up decorations?"
His head poked out from behind a cabinet door. "What for?"
She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Because it's Christmas!"
"Not it isn't," he argued. "It's the seventeenth."
"Don't be such a Scrooge." When he huffed in amusement, she asked again, "So? Can I decorate?"
Ducking his head back into the cabinet, he said, "Knock yourself out."
He found her later, balancing precariously on his wingback chair in the living room. "What, exactly, do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice reminiscent of his time as a Hogwarts Professor sneaking up on unsuspecting students. She didn't so much as flinch.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" She replied, not turning away from her task of magically stringing garland over the windows.
"It looks like you're climbing on furniture like a small child." The garland before her righted itself across the curtain rod, a large silver bow popping in place in the center. When she turned her head, his wand was still pointing her way.
"I was doing fine by myself," she pouted, following his movements as he walked over to her. Taking his offered hand, she stepped gently off of his chair and frowned up at him.
"Yes," he said, looking around the room, "I can see that."
Hermione admittedly only knew a few decorative spells, but she felt that she had done well with what little she could do. Garland hung over the tops of the bookshelves, windows, and across the mantle, silver bows interspersed periodically throughout; twinkling strings of soft white lights accompanied them, and also framed the doorway. A white fluffy blanket adorned the back of the couch, the two golden pillows accentuating the blue fabric nicely. And the windows, curtains drawn, were enchanted to show a gentle snowfall at all hours of the day. "Do you like it?" she asked, studying his face as he took it all in. "I can change it if you don't."
"There's no need to change it." He walked behind the couch, his hand dragging across the blanket as he did so. "Where did this come from?"
"It's a transfigured towel," she admitted, stepping forward and lifting a pillow. "I found these in my room a while ago, and charmed them this color." Setting it down, she grinned and said, "I almost charmed your couch red, too, but didn't think you would appreciate that."
He stared at her, eyebrow raised in a sardonic arch. "No, I would not have appreciated that at all. Can you imagine what Minerva would have to say about it?"
Grinning cheekily, she said, "She'd probably be pleased that you'd developed some proper taste for once."
His narrowing eyes was enough of a response to send her giggling. "Do you like it, though? What I did?"
"Didn't I say as much?"
"No, you just said not to change it. That doesn't mean you like it."
Exasperatedly sighing, he said in an only slightly condescending tone, "It's lovely, Hermione."
"I know that, but thank you." Turning and falling into the couch, she craned her neck back and looked up at him. "When do you start working on the Wolfsbane again?"
"Tomorrow night, close to midnight." Moving to his desk chair, he sat and pulled out a bit of parchment. "It needs to be started at the precise moment of the new moon for the Wolfsbane plant to have the desired effect." Pulling his quill and inkwell closer to him, he looked over his shoulder at her and said, "It will be an all-night event, so I'll be staying up tonight to brew the rest of the St Mungo's order and sleeping much of tomorrow in order to stay up for the duration. I'm afraid I'll be rather unavailable until late Saturday."
She shrugged, tugging a pillow over her legs and summoning a book to her. "I don't know how I'll manage without you at my disposal, but I'll try to make it work."
With a snort, he turned to his work in silence.
The sun was setting when Severus woke. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, rubbing his face with his hands. He hated this; every time a potion required his sleep schedule to shift, he found it impossible to shake off the cloud of fatigue that permeated within him. His stomach growled, and his bladder protested, but he found it incredibly difficult to give a damn when his entire being was slipping back into unconsciousness.
What finally shook him from drowsiness wasn't his own body's demands, but a crashing sound from the other side of his door. It was quickly followed by a quietly hissed, "Crooks!" and quick, soft footsteps as Hermione pursued her furry beast out back. Stifling a snort, he tossed the covers from him and stood.
He had fallen into bed so exhausted that morning, he had barely managed to remove his socks and shirt before falling asleep. Stumbling across the hall in just his slacks, he stifled a yawn as he entered the bathroom. He re-emerged just as the back door opened and a softly panting Hermione Granger walked into the house, arms laden with a furious ball of fur.
Upon seeing him in his state of undress, Hermione's eyes grew wide and her cheeks flushed. His hand still on the bathroom doorknob, he froze in place, feeling a warm heat spread through his own skin; his groggy mind could think of nothing else to do but to stand there frozen before her, exposed from the waist up.
His owner no longer struggling against his plight for freedom, Crookshanks flew from Hermione's arms, launching himself from her shoulder and diving back through the cat flap. With a hiss of pain, she grabbed her shoulder and turned to follow, throwing the door open and shouting after him. As the door crashed closed behind her, Severus took in a shaky breath and rushed to the safety of his bedroom.
Cursing under his breath, he leaned against the back of the door and willed his heart to stop beating so damn hard.
He had been so careful; he never left his rooms unless he was properly dressed! Damn the wolfsbane, and damn his sleep-addled mind! Avoiding his reflection in the mirror- he did not want to see what she had just seen- he threw open his wardrobe and pulled on a shirt. Fingers shaking over the buttons, it took him twice as long to get it properly adjusted, and it was only when he was tucking it in that he realized he was still wearing yesterday's trousers. Briefly debating how much he actually cared about such things, he hurried to change those as well.
The back door opened once again, and he could hear Hermione mutter to her cat, "This is why Ron was convinced you ate Scabbers, you know that? You're a nasty piece of work sometimes, and I'm not always going to be here to clean up after you."
Fully dressed- and fighting his desperate urge to don his frock coat and robes once more- he stepped out into the hall just as Hermione began to ascend the stairs. Her foot paused on the step, and her muttering stopped. "Severus?"
He refused to acknowledge what has just happened. He grasped for anything else to talk about. "What is your bloody furball up to that has you both so worked up?"
Crookshanks let out a yowl of offense, and Hermione told him, "Oh knock it off, you're so dramatic." Setting the cat on the stairs in front of her, she glared at the beast and answered, "He found a mouse out in the garden and thought it'd be funny to bring it inside." Stepping off the stairs, she faced him properly and asked, "We didn't wake you, did we?"
Noticing the tinge of pink in her cheeks and burying his own urge to blush, he shook his head. "I was already awake."
She let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good."
Glaring up at the cat, who was glowering down at him through the railing, he asked her, "There's a mouse?"
"There was a mouse. I managed to distract Crooks long enough for it to slip past the fence." She grimaced and rubbed her shoulder before adding, "He can be a real brute at times."
His eyes followed the motion of her hand, and he noticed that her white t-shirt now bore small dots of blood over what he could only imagine were nasty scratches. "You're injured."
She snorted. "Hardly. He wishes he could injure me." Frowning up at her familiar, who still pouted on the stairs, she said, "I've had worse from him. It smarts, but it'll be fine."
"Allow me to see to your scratches," he said without thinking. His body finally giving in to a slight blush, he added, "If you're comfortable with that, of course."
Her cheeks reddening further, she chuckled nervously and shook her head. "I promise it's nothing."
"You're sure?" At her assent, he nodded awkwardly. After a moment's pause, he asked, "Have you eaten?"
"Today? Yes. Recently?" She shook her head. "Not in a few hours, no."
"I'm starving," he admitted, moving past her to the kitchen. "What would you like to eat?"
Following him, she leaned up against the island counter and hmm'd as she thought. "Are you a 'have to break fast with breakfast food' type of person, or can you eat whatever?"
He raised his eyebrow. "I haven't always had the luxury of being picky. What is it you want, Hermione?"
She grinned, crossing her arms over the counter. "I was just thinking about how good that roast chicken was from the other day."
"I can make roast chicken." Her grin grew into a full on smile, and he turned to the ice box before she could see the effect it had on him.
"Would you like me to cut the vegetables?" she asked, already pulling out the cutting board. He looked over as she reached for the knife block and winced.
He frowned at her injured shoulder. "I must insist on seeing to those scratches." She made to step back from him, but he grabbed her firmly by the arm and pulled her close enough that he could push aside her shirt collar, exposing three long, relatively deep cuts on her shoulder. Eyebrows raising, he glanced at her face before gently touching around the cuts. When she hissed, he pulled her over to the sink. "You've had worse?" he asked, wetting a rag with warm water.
"Well, maybe once or twice," she muttered, blushing furiously- at the admission or at his closeness, he couldn't tell. He dabbed the wet rag on the cuts gently. "This might be as bad as when he scratched up my thigh in third year- that cut got infected because he had been digging in Hagrid's pumpkin patch that morning."
"Why did he scratch you up then?" Summoning the wound cleanser and dittany from his lab, he drizzled the cleanser on the cloth and made another pass. "Sorry," he added when she flinched.
"It's fine," she assured him. "He was after Scabbers again- and this time he was serious about catching him."
"Who is Scabbers?" Pulling the dropper of dittany out of its jar, he began drizzling the liquid onto her cuts.
He watched them close as she answered, "Well, at the time he was Ron's rat, but it turned out it was really-"
"Peter Pettigrew." The name came out as a snarl, and he slammed the dittany back on the counter. "You should have tried harder," he called out to the cat, who had moved to the doorway and was blinking lazily at them both.
"You knew?" At his frown, she sighed. "Of course you knew. Lupin would have told you."
"I never heard his idiotic pet name, but yes, I was well aware that Pettigrew was masquerading as a common rat in the Weasley's home for years."
Hermione re-adjusted her shirt and backed away. "Yes, well... Crookshanks is part kneazle. He distrusted the rat from the beginning. We should have listened to him." Rubbing her newly-healed shoulder, she said quietly, "Thank you. For healing my cuts."
Shrugging off her thanks, he turned to the sink and began to scrub his hands. "To answer your previous question, I would greatly appreciate your help with preparing the vegetables."
They talked while he cooked. She asked very specific questions about the wolfsbane, and when he tired of that particular round of questioning, he began to ask her about her arithmantic projection and possible alternative equations. When she tired of his attack upon her work, she shifted the conversation to more lighthearted findings of hers from her history text, the subject she had been studying of late. Their talk quieted some through dinner, but persisted while they cleaned up, and it was with visual restraint that Hermione allowed him to retire to his lab alone in the end.
Whatever awkwardness that may have lingered from their fight, whatever discomfort his earlier exposure may have surfaced, had- at least briefly- been entirely forgotten.
She didn't see Severus again until Saturday evening.
Part of her was relieved; she could still see him, standing outside his bathroom door, shirtless. The image of his chest, sparsely dotted with fine black hairs, was embedded in her mind. A line of hairs much more coarse trailed down past the hem of his pants, the wiry muscles flexed in panic beneath pale skin. He was thin, yes; thinner than she had imagined. Yet he wasn't scrawny- no, he was lean and powerful, and so very enticing. Every time the image came to her mind, she lost all train of thought.
His body reflected his fashion- stark black against pale white. The only exceptions were the many, many scars marring his skin. While not nearly as terrible as the one gracing his neck, his abdomen and arms were littered with indications of injuries, ranging in severity from the tiniest nick, to the deepest slice. Barely pink, some faded to white, she catalogued each and every one.
She wanted to memorize him. Not only with her eyes, but with all of her senses. She wanted to run her fingers down those scars, to taste that damaged flesh, to hear his heart beating rapidly beneath them. She wanted to bury her face in his smell- that intoxicating combination of patchouli and herbs. She wanted to experience all of him, every bit of him, and that want was driving her mad.
He had surfaced briefly at dinner, sleep-addled and disheveled. She had to force him away from the stove as she prepared a simple spaghetti dinner for them both- one look was all it took to convince her of his danger near a pot of boiling water. He ate in complete silence, allowing her to take his plate from him without complaint before he shuffled back to bed. She couldn't say she minded his exhaustion; it made it much easier to hide her sidelong stares, and the blushes that followed.
The awkwardness didn't last long. When McGonagall showed up the next morning, she brought some rather distracting news with her.
"I have a proposition for you, Hermione," she said from the wingback chair she had claimed as Hermione walked into the room. Severus, leaning back in his desk chair, glanced her way briefly before turning back to the older witch.
"What is it?" she asked uneasily, slowly sitting on the couch.
"It's about your letter to Harry. About Christmas and New Years."
Severus glanced sharply between the two. "What about Christmas and New Years?"
McGonagall looked surprised as she asked him, "She didn't tell you?" Looking over at Hermione, she asked, "Why didn't you tell him?"
Sinking into the cushions, she looked down at her clasped hands. "I made the decision when we were fighting. I didn't know how to bring it up after that." Meeting Severus' eyes guiltily, she told him, "Harry invited me to Christmas and New Years when he was over. I told him I'd think about it, but I accepted while we... weren't speaking. I was going to talk to you about it first, but..."
His eyebrows had risen while she talked, and when she trailed off she watched his shoulders tense. "You didn't think it would be vital for me to have this information?" He asked, very obviously trying to keep his voice steady.
"Well, initially I did, yes. But then you locked me out of the lab-"
"So you wait until I leave it!"
"Severus," McGonagall warned, and he took a deep breath before continuing in a strained but calmer manner.
"You should have told me. We should have talked about it."
"I know," she whispered, looking down again. "Would you- I can still say no, if you'd rather-"
"Where will it be?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "Who will be there? What sort of protections will be in place?"
"Goodness, Severus, you aren't her father," McGonagall chided, and Hermione flushed as Severus stared at her in rebuke.
"It's to be at Grimmauld Place," Hermione answered, cutting off his rebuttal. "With Harry and Ron, and possibly Ginny. I'm not sure what she'd decided to do yet. And New Years will include the rest of the Weasleys- well, all but Charlie." She scratched her neck before adding, "I don't know about protections yet, but I'm just staying the night. I can't imagine there's much risk in that."
"There wasn't much risk in Hogwarts, either," he argued, and she sighed. "What was the proposition?" he asked McGonagall, and Hermione turned her way as well.
McGonagall pointedly looked away from him and towards Hermione. "Molly Weasley has been informed of all of the goings-on, and upon learning of your upcoming visit, has asked me to extend an invitation. She wants you to know that, should you wish, you may stay with them at the Burrow after New Years- under the same protections you're under here, but with the added benefit of potential visits from your friends." She handed Hermione an envelope, and upon the front was the familiar scrawl of the Weasley Matron. "If you accept her invitation, I will deliver you and your belongings to the Weasleys on New Years Eve. That would give them enough time to prepare the home's protections once they return."
Heart beating rapidly in her chest, Hermione stared down at the envelope in her hands. "It isn't a decision you need to make now, dear," McGonagall was saying. "Molly will understand if you do not wish to uproot yourself once more. She just thought it would be a nice option for you, were you to take it."
When Hermione looked up from the letter, it wasn't McGonagall's face she sought, but Severus. He was very carefully looking at his hands and nowhere else, his brows pulled over his eyes and harsh lines around his mouth. "I'll... think about it," she promised, tucking the letter away. "I would like to discuss it with Severus-"
"I'm honored to be included," he muttered, and her chest tightened at the idea that she had wounded him. Granted, that had been the point when she had made her decision to accept the invitation, but it was the last thing she wanted to do now.
"Contrary to your belief," McGonagall snipped at Severus, "not everything in Hermione's life has to revolve around your opinions." Meeting his glare, she continued, "She's an of-age witch capable of making her own decisions about her future. Try to remember that."
"I agree, though," said Hermione. "Severus should get a say. He's sacrificed so much for me, it's only fair he gets to at least say his part."
He still would not look at her. "What do you think?" she asked, and he let out a long, heavy breath before turning in his seat, facing his desk.
"Do what you want, Hermione," he muttered as he picked up a quill.
Watching him for another moment, she finally met McGonagall's concerned look and matched it. The headmistress shook her head and shrugged, before saying, "Well, you take your time with your decision, Hermione. For now, let's discuss Christmas. When do you want me to retrieve you? First thing in the morning?"
She shook her head fervently. "No, no. I'd like to spend some of the holiday here." Looking over at Severus' back, she frowned. "Unless I'm not wanted?"
When no response came, she huffed. "How about just before sunset?" she asked. "I could have dinner with the boys and come back midday?"
McGonagall nodded, making a note of that on a spare bit of parchment. "I think that would work wonderfully. I do plan on stopping by earlier to visit, and I'll transport you when I leave. And for New Years Eve, whether you decide to stay or return, I can come collect you at the same time. If that works with you."
"That would be great," she replied, glancing once more at the sullen back of Severus Snape.
Was she so wrong to want to see her friends? He was certainly doing a good job of making her feel that way. She knew she was wrong to have kept this plan of hers from him for so long, but they had just started talking again; it was hard for her to bring it up and risk that peace between them. Though, it was worse now that she had failed to do so. Just looking at the tension in his back and shoulders as he faced away from them, busying himself with note taking, told her all she needed to know about where they now stood.
Continuing the conversation with McGonagall was a challenge. Her thoughts kept returning to the man at the desk, and how she would try to make it up to him, to apologize before it was too late. Would he even hear her out?
And this offer from Mrs Weasley! She hadn't been expecting that at all. They would need to discuss that, as well. A part of her did want to take her up on that offer; it came with plenty of benefits. And it was quite possible Severus was hoping she would take it. Was he tiring of her presence? She seemed to be adding an unnecessary amount of drama to his otherwise calm existence. Was he looking forward to an empty house once more? As much as she wished he would ask her to stay, something in her told her he wouldn't.
By the time McGonagall headed back to the school, Hermione was already on the edge of panic.
She stared into the flames and listened to the scratch of Severus' quill. What should she bring up first; her visit, or her potential move? She bit her lip as she worried over the question. Would he even wish to talk to her about either right now? She always hated to interrupt his work, but she had delayed this conversation long enough.
Clearing her throat, she turned to face the desk. "Severus?"
The quill stopped. "Yes?"
She swallowed; that one word told her all she needed to know about his frame of mind. He was very, very annoyed. "Can we talk about all this?"
He jotted down a few more words and set his quill in its holder before turning towards her. Crossing his arms once again, he raised his eyebrow and stared expectantly.
"You're angry."
"Yes."
She flinched; she forgot how direct he could be. "I'm sorry for not telling you."
"We've been on amicable terms all week. Why on earth did you not say something sooner?"
"I suppose I didn't want to ruin those amicable terms by bringing something up that would upset you."
His eyes narrowed. "I never knew you to be a coward."
Her back straightened. "But I have known you to be a complete arse!"
"That has never changed. And it's never stopped you from speaking to me before."
Biting back her angry words, Hermione rubbed her temple. "Can we talk about this or are you in too foul a mood to move past the fact that I didn't tell you sooner?"
His heavy sigh brought Hermione's eyes back to his face, and behind the anger and annoyance, she could see a hesitancy in his features. "What, exactly, do you want to discuss?"
"Well, for one, I want to know your true feelings on my visit to Harry." Tucking a leg under her, she said, "If you don't think it's safe enough, I won't go. When Harry invited me, I made a point to tell him that I wanted you to sign off on it. That only changed because we were at each other's throats." Pausing, she added, "Your opinion still means a lot to me."
Exhaling loudly, Severus uncrossed his arms and rubbed his lip with a finger. He stared off through one of the charmed windows, deep in thought, as he contemplated her question. "I'm not going to tell you you can't go," he told her.
"I appreciate that." She tucked a curl behind her ear before asking, "But what do you think about it?"
Briefly glancing her way, he returned his attention to the window. "I think you miss your friends, and that this would be a good opportunity for you."
She blinked, her eyebrows raised. "Do you really?"
He turned to her then. "I'm not blind, Hermione. I saw how happy you were when Potter was here." Shifting in his seat, he crossed his legs and steepled his fingers. "I admit that I'm surprised you would wish to see Weasley. I hadn't realized you two were on speaking terms again."
"We... sort of aren't." At his silent stare she elaborated. "He asks Harry to pass on messages in his letters, and I do the same. Just brief things, like 'I hope you're well' or 'Sorry to hear about that.' It's not much, but it's something."
"Hmm." His eyes returned to the window, and he remained silent for quite awhile. Something about his facial expression told Hermione he wasn't pleased to hear about her slowly rekindled friendship with Ron, but she couldn't be sure why he would feel that way. He himself told her that it would happen- that they would move past their differences, and the 'Golden Trio' would be reunited. So why did he look so disappointed?
"I still don't love the idea of you leaving," he said finally, and she was startled out of her ruminations. "However, with enough protections, I can't argue against the safety of it all. As long as you remain indoors, and give no one any indication that you're there."
"I'll make sure to keep the curtains drawn."
His eyes crinkled. "That isn't a bad idea."
"So you're truly all right with me going?"
Sighing, but with a slight smile, he nodded.
Relief flowed through her, even while her heart hammered as she prepared to ask the next question. "Can I ask your thoughts on Mrs Weasley's offer, then?"
The smile disappeared, and his eyes shuttered. He stared back out the window. For a long moment he was silent, before he quietly said, "That is entirely up to you, Hermione."
"You don't..." Biting her lip, she studied his face carefully. "You don't have a preference?"
His eyes twitched, as if he were about to look her way, but decided against it. "I do not," he spoke softly, his words clipped.
Frowning, she pursued an actual opinion. "I guess I was just wondering if you'd rather have your house back."
"That has never been a concern of mine." Before she could respond, he stood abruptly and moved towards the hall. Pausing at the threshold, he half-turned back towards her. "You are welcome as long as you'd wish to stay. Do not make your decision on my account."
And then he was gone.
It was late when he left the lab, far later than normal. He felt a bit guilty for leaving Hermione on her own for dinner, but he wasn't ready to face her again- not after everything that had been discussed.
She would be leaving after New Years. Why would she stay? He knew she would make the choice to go, and he couldn't fault her for it. It was always a possibility that she would go to the Weasley's once they returned; he had been a fool for not considering it.
The effort it took to let her go was such that he couldn't face her- not yet. If he faced her now, he knew he was but moments away from begging her to stay. He was selfish. But he also knew that this was the right thing to do. At least he still had nearly two weeks.
Two weeks that included Christmas.
He hadn't given the holidays much thought since their confinement, despite the current state of his living room. Perhaps he should have done so. Christmas was a mere five days away, and he had no idea what to expect. She wanted to share at least some of the holiday with him. What would that entail? Would she expect to exchange gifts? His stomach sank at the thought.
What could he possibly give her? It wasn't like he could go out to the shops or place an order. Why had this never once crossed his mind before now? He had never been a lover of the holiday, but it had never before gone quite so unnoticed by him. Though, he had never before been trapped in his home from mid-November on. How surprising was it, really, that the days had begun to blur? That if it weren't for Minerva's visits, he would have no indication of the movement of time?
He walked into the cheerfully decorated living room and collapsed at his desk. Head in his hands, he racked his brain for any possible gift option. He supposed he could brew her something- but she was in his lab more than she was out of it, and she had a keen eye.
What would he even brew her, anyway? Some de-frizzing hair product? With a self-depricating scoff, he dropped his arms. No, she would view that as an insult more than a gift. Though, she did seem like the type that preferred practicality over knick knacks or jewelry. He couldn't see her being overly impressed by an embroidered pillow or one of Madame Puddifoot's enchanted roses.
No, Hermione valued knowledge. Knowledge she could put into practice, specifically. He had been on the right track when it came to her birthday present-
With a start, Severus straightened in his seat. Her birthday present! He still had it in his possession. He pulled open the desk drawer, exposing the Defensive Strategies Guide. Lifting it carefully and placing it in front of him, he stared down at it contemplatively.
What had she said, when they were fighting? She had been excited by the prospect of reading his notes. While that thought still sent a wave of fear down his spine, it gave him exactly what he was looking for.
Standing and walking to his bookshelves, he took down his own copy of the Defensive Strategies Guide. By filtering through some of his notes, he could separate those he wanted to remain hidden from those he felt comfortable enough to share. He could annotate her copy of the book with the latter, and she could then enjoy his notes safely.
Yes, yes, this was what he was looking for. Walking back over to the desk, he quickly propped his copy of the text above Hermione's and picked up his quill. He had five days to do this; that was plenty of time.
A/N 2: How mad would you all be if I made you wait until Christmas to read the next chapter? Lucky for you I have no plans to be that cruel! Look for an update within two weeks- I'm going away next weekend and am unsure if it'll happen before then.
