Disclaimer: My name is Regina Lacrimarum. I own no published stories. Please, don't sue. I'm a poor student, anyway, so you won't get anything out of me.

Hermione woke up on the Monday after she had seen the sites for the new castle with a terrible headache. Her hands were cold as ice for no apparent reason and her fingers trembled for the first few moments as she tried to dress in the dark. The other Gryffindor girls were apparently still asleep, though she had her suspicions about Ginny.

She hadn't slept well that night. She had tossed and turned for a while before finally nodding off, only to have something wake her in the wee hours. She couldn't remember now what it was. It might have been a sound she heard in her sleep or the feeling of something on her skin, but when she opened her eyes, the silence boomed in her ears and she couldn't bear the brush of her blankets on her skin. It had taken a long time before she could go to sleep after that.

As Hermione dragged a brush through her stubborn hair, Ginny cleared her throat from the next bed over. Hermione braced herself for questions.

"I missed you this weekend. I didn't see you at all on Saturday and then you were holed up in the library on Sunday."

Hermione had been going over the architecture section with a fine-toothed comb, trying to find the book she'd seen once. All she had were details that she knew librarians hated to hear. "Uh, it had a blue cover. With a moon on it, or maybe a house. It was about magical buildings?" Anyway she couldn't tell Ginny that.

She did what she had been doing a lot more of late than she liked to admit: she lied to her friend's face. Specifically, she babbled about research for McGonagall and Snape. At the last second, she realized that she shouldn't have included that last bit, as Ginny had strong feelings about Snape's treatment of Hermione. It was too late to fix her error so Hermione tried to ignore Ginny's stare of worry and disapproval. She did notice that Ginny actually didn't interrogate her, which was a mercy. It showed how attuned Ginny was to her friends' moods.

The two girls walked down to breakfast together. As they approached the Great Hall, Hermione felt a tickling at her hip. She halted and waved Ginny on, promising to join her in a minute. Now Ginny looked like she would explode from the weight of not asking but to her credit she didn't ask. Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out her schedule. Staff meeting at half eight. Hermione recognized Snape's hand and saw that he was still using green ink. She rolled her eyes to herself.

Hermione ate quickly and stood to go. She felt Ginny squeeze her arm.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, so low that only Hermione could hear. Hermione swallowed hard, trying to think of a reply. Ginny smiled bitterly. "I'll give you time to come up with a lie."

Hermione blinked. "Ginny, I don't want-"

"You'd better go," Ginny cut in. "Wherever you're going, it must be important for you to rush out like this."

Hermione couldn't help it. She leaned down and met Ginny's hurt hazel eyes. "It's important. And I swear, if it were my secret to tell, you'd be the first to know." She straightened and grabbed her bag. "I'll see you later." She hurried out, conscious of Ginny staring after her.

Hermione had thought that she would be the first to the staff meeting, but when she arrived, she was greeted by the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Ubitum. She smiled at him and tried to chirp a suitably appropriate greeting. He responded with an oily smile.

"The famous Miss Granger. I've heard so much about you, but we didn't get a chance to talk when you honored my class with your presence. The other professors assure me you're the brightest student they've ever seen." Ubitum sounded less than convinced. "Brighter than a young Severus Snape, as I understand it."

Hermione couldn't prove it, but she would swear the man had known Snape was coming around the corner. The Potions Master gave no sign that he'd heard the slight to his abilities. His student was not deceived.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," she said pleasantly. He grunted, which Hermione received as if it were the cheeriest of greetings. "I hope you're well?" He grunted again.

Left to her own devices, Hermione might have gone on like that forever, trying desperately to dispel the awkwardness. Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived with the other teachers in tow. They all took seats and Dumbledore beamed at them from his squishy violet armchair.

"I sent Professors McGonagall and Snape to review the possible sites for our new castle. Miss Granger was in attendance to see that everything ran smoothly. I heard from the professors privately and have decided on the basis of their advice to select the second area."

Hermione froze in the middle of taking notes and gaped at the headmaster in open disbelief. She was thrilled, but had no idea what might have caused the headmaster to make that choice. After all, Snape had hated the second site and McGonagall hadn't seemed to care one way or the other.

Snape, on the other side of the room, was not as blissfully ignorant as his student. Minerva might think that Dumbledore had only asked casually about Granger's preference, but he knew better. Dumbledore never asked casual questions. If he asked, he wanted to know and he had a particular reason for wanting to know. Snape at least had known that the girl's choice would stand.

Now the teenager was standing up; Dumbledore had asked her to explain the advantages of the second site. She stumbled over her words, rocked back and forth, and corrected herself constantly. She looked like a wind-up toy and sounded like a time-turner caught in loop, repeating a few words over and over. Snape hated himself for remembering how well Lily had spoken in front of people.

Was it going to be like this forever? Well, why shouldn't it? It had been like this for twenty years, so why should it change just because he'd seen her avenged? Would it be different if he'd killed Voldemort himself?

Snape forced himself away from such ugly thoughts in time to hear Hermione conclude with an explanation of the low magical potential. "One thing this does mean," she finished brightly, "is that we can take more with us. A lot of the books and supplies have only a very small residual amount of magic. That means that in an area with such low magical potential they'd be perfectly safe! In fact, the magic would fade away long before anyone thought to remove them from the castle." No one had told her that, Snape thought. She'd been doing research again. He almost wished someone would take the initiative to ban her from the library, but the scholar in him rebelled at thinking such a thing even in jest. After all, Hermione was the only student who ever entered the place voluntarily.

Dumbledore was still beaming as though he hadn't had to sit through the worst presentation in staff meeting history. "That's that, then. Anyone who has questions may come to me later in my office. Right now I believe most of you have class." When Ubitum stood and made to address Dumbledore, the old man smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, my dear boy, I need to have a private chat with Professor Snape and Miss Granger." Snape would have been cheered by the sour look on Ubitum's face except that now he had to stay himself.

Dumbledore waited until all the other teachers had exited the room to begin. Snape and Granger stood awkwardly to either side of Dumbledore's chair while he steepled his fingertips and hummed a jaunty tune to himself and the others filed out. When they had all gone, the headmaster said, "I've been meaning to ask you about this, Severus. When and where are you going to hold your lessons with Miss Granger?"

Snape goggled. "Lessons?"

Unfazed, Dumbledore pressed him. "Of course. She will be having private lessons with Professor Flitwick for charms and I understand Professor Vector is looking forward to teaching her the requisite equations."

"But she will not need Potions lessons!" Snape cried indignantly. He thought he'd made it quite clear that he wouldn't spend any time with her outside of class. "I didn't agree to-"

Taking no comfort from the fact that Granger looked as surprised as he was, Severus stayed silent for a moment to compose himself. When he trusted himself to speak, he went on. "I was not aware that I had contracted to do private tutoring."

Dumbledore sighed but didn't look surprised. Would it kill the old man to look surprised for once in his life? "Miss Granger, I think you'd better go." Granger headed for the door, but Dumbledore stopped her as she put her hand on the knob. "Stay, please, Miss Granger. On second thought, it's better for you to hear this.

"Now, Severus, think back to your own years here. Think about the power welling up in you." Dumbledore's eyes were grave and he played distractedly with his beard. "What would you have given to have a tutor for Potions, or for any other subject, for that matter? When you were already running rings around the older students? How much further would you have progressed with such help, and in what different directions?"

It was obvious from Dumbledore's expression that he thought a lot about that last part, but Snape expected that mixture of paternal affection and selfish guilt from the headmaster. What he hadn't expected was Granger's shocked eyes. She had understood the import of "different directions" and Snape's insides twisted with rage. What right did she have to hear this? What right did she have to understand? He saw her turning her head slowly in his direction and looked away, at Dumbledore, hoping his face said the obscenities he didn't want to utter in front of Granger. Not because of professionalism or any concern for her delicate ears, understand. He simply didn't want to indicate by any means whatsoever that he had taken Dumbledore's words to heart.

"I think it advisable that you teach her both additional Potions and wandless magic, since it was, after all, you who included that clause in her contract."

"I will not," Snape said coldly. "I refuse to spend that much time with her." Trying and failing to forget that Granger was in the room, hating himself for being here, hating her for seeing it, and most of all, hating Dumbledore, he said, "You owe me something. You will always owe me something. And I will not teach her both."

Dumbledore did look surprised now, but Snape was too shocked that he had finally said what he had been thinking for the past twenty years to revel in it. The Headmaster finally said, "Very well. I suppose it wouldn't do to push you into retirement." The old man smiled. Snape did not. "You may teach her one, and we will find another tutor for the other. Miss Granger, which would you like to learn from Professor Snape?"

The girl frowned. "I think Professor Snape would be the best judge of that. Sir, which would you like to teach me?"

She was trying, in a small way, to support him against Dumbledore. How like her, how like everyone else in this damn country, to want to help now that he was a hero. "Potions," he said at last.

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Splendid! Miss Granger, I understand that you currently have no tutoring sessions with Professor Ubitum?"

Hermione shook her head and Snape could read her face. She was thinking what a terrible travesty it was that she had no need of instruction against the Dark Arts. Well, it was a travesty, but so was everything else in the world.

"He is more than qualified to teach you wandless magic," Dumbledore continued. "I shouldn't have sent him away, after all. Such is life. Severus, would you mind fetching him for me?"

Snape stalked out of the room. Hermione eyed Dumbledore warily but he sat, humming and twiddling his thumbs, and seemed content to let the silence extend until Ubitum arrived.

Ubitum finally oiled his way in. He had no objections and the meeting was a short one. She was to have two evening lessons with Ubitum (Monday and Wednesday, starting that very evening) and two with Snape (Tuesdays and Thursdays). Dumbledore's paternal smile told them they were dismissed and Hermione and her professor stood to leave at the same time.

He bowed to indicate that she should precede him down the stairs. Hermione had no choice but to thank him and proceed, despite a queer feeling that she didn't want him at her back. They were going in the same direction-Hermione was actually going to attend lessons this morning. She was trying to go to at least one class per subject per week. It never hurt to stay in practice.

Speaking first, Ubitum asked, "Are you enjoying your project, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you feel you're learning from it?"

"Yes, sir." Hermione couldn't have explained why she felt so uneasy.

"That's good, then. It would be terrible if you didn't."

Hermione hesitated before replying. "I imagine it would be more a mild inconvenience than a catastrophe, really. Professor Dumbledore has said I can stop participating and resume normal schoolwork whenever I want."

"That was kind of him."

"Besides, he doesn't actually need my help." Hermione forced a laugh, aware that her statement sounded more like a question.

"He'd certainly like it," Ubitum said smoothly, and turned a corner, as she went on straight ahead.

Hermione was a little late to Transfiguration, but she was still the first one to transform each of the cards in her Exploding Snap deck into a rose. She varied the colours on hers for the first dozen or so, producing a lovely mix of red, pink, and white. Around her, she heard the little pops as roses did what Exploding Snap cards did best and flew apart. Petals rained down around her every few moments. She had turned to the task of creating a blue rose, which didn't occur in nature and was thus harder to effect, when she heard an odd scratching sound.

Hermione looked to her left to see that Malfoy's rose was winding its way across his desk, stem bending oddly and thorns scraping the wood. It looked like a snake with a swollen scarlet head. He had his wand in hand and when the rose seemed to be slowing in its crawl, he flicked his wand and the flower quickened its pace. The magic was more showy than impressive, but then, he was probably just bored.

Then Malfoy looked up and saw her watching. He caught her eyes with his own as the flower burst into flames. She wanted to tell him how predictable that was of him, but knew it wouldn't help. Someone had told him who had killed Lucius and there were some things that were unforgivable. By the end of the war, it had been unclear how Draco felt about Lucius, but that was irrelevant. For the Malfoys, blood was thicker than cement. She hadn't spoken to him for more than a year now.

Runes was next. Hermione finished the problems on the board within a quarter of an hour and Vector came over to her desk with a massive book under her arm. This tome she placed reverentially on Hermione's desk. "Chapters 4 and 23," she said.

Hermione took out parchment for notes and started reading. Chapter 4 was on the dangers and benefits of combining runework with wanded magic. She wouldn't have time to start on 23, but the title was Runes in Architecture: Wards, Strengthening Spells, and More.

A lot of the material was familiar to Hermione in broad strokes, but the detail was new. She knew, for instance, that while wanded magic was responsive to intent, runes were inflexible. They meant exactly what was written, no more and no less. She had not known that runes could be used to limit the usage of wanded magic. There was a very handy full-colour illustration of a book that became a teacup halfway down its length because of a few runes written on the spine. Runes could be used to construct walls around a spell, but they were hard to remove and so were rarely used, because if you failed to define your parameters carefully, you could end up with an unwanted effect that was nearly impossible to undo.

Vector kept her after class. She was to read the rest of chapters 4 and 23 and to do further research on the use of runes for the foundations of a building.

Of course, the made her late for Potions and forced her to sit next to Malfoy, who was sitting, defiant and partnerless, at the back of the room. Here at least, Hermione had to concentrate. She had never got over Harry's superior performance in sixth year. Even the knowledge that he had needed Snape's book to outperform her did not cheer her and she took her time with the potions now. She still followed the instructions to the letter, but at each step, she asked herself why she was doing what she was.

Malfoy still did not speak to her at all, but they gathered and added ingredients silently finished their potion in good time. Hermione brought a sample up to Snape, who eyed it critically. "Adequate," he said coldly. By this, Hermione supposed he meant only that it looked about right.

It was at this second that the vial burst into bright blue flame. Snape dropped it. It shattered, but the blue flames kept licking around the fragments. The Professor whipped out his wand. "Aguamenti!"

The ominous hissing that followed was like the sound of Hermione's chances of respect from the Potions Master escaping through a crack in the floor. The classroom was silent.

Hermione broke the silence. "Too much-" she stopped awkwardly, but Snape gestured with ironic courtesy for her to continue. "Too much Shrivelfig."

"That's not possible," snapped Malfoy from his desk. "I added two ounces exactly."

Hermione made a small noise of protest. "But I added two ounces exactly! ...Oh."

"And all becomes clear," Snape said and sneered. Hermione felt he actually enjoyed the chance to break out a good sneer. "Do you mean to say that neither of you top students, neither of you who survived one of the deadliest battles of our times, neither of you who have been hailed as the brightest prospects of our age, neither of you thought to speak to the other?"

Hermione kept quiet. "No" seemed inadequate. So did "Oopsy-daisy" or any other honest answer. Malfoy was similarly reticent.

Sighing, Snape rubbed one thumb across his forehead. The digit had a scar from some long-ago burn and Hermione was shocked at how tired the gesture made the professor look. Then the moment of weariness passed and he was Professor Snape once again. "The potion is useless, but at this level there's no point in simply giving you a failing grade. You'll need to make it again tonight, after which you'll be chopping Shrivelfig to make up for wasting my supplies. Yes, Miss Granger, I remember that you have another engagement, so don't look at me with cow eyes. We'll make it nine o'clock.

"That only leaves... ten points from Slytherin and fifty from Gryffindor."

Malfoy grinned and Hermione was scandalized. "But Professor, that's obviously unfair! We made the same mistake!"

"Yes, you did," Snape snarled. "The difference is that I expected it from him." Malfoy's grin vanished.

It was an odd feeling, when Hermione grabbed her book bag and walked out of the room without waiting to be dismissed, to know that she wasn't technically required to be there and couldn't be held accountable. Of course, Snape would be angry, but Snape would always have been angry.

There were still fifteen minutes until lunch, so Hermione dawdled in the corridors with only her embarrassment for company. It wasn't the potion that upset her, but rather the realisation that she had disappointed her professor.

Anger replaced embarrassment as she reflected that he had never shown that he expected anything out of her until he failed to get it just once.

A younger student wandered across her path and Hermione realised that classes were letting out. She had lost her appetite, so she just hitched her book bag over her shoulder and headed to the library to research her runes.