Chapter 4: Out of Reasons

Author's Note & Anti-Litigation Charm

JK Rowling owns everything you recognize, and has provided the base for everything you don't recognize.
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The parchment held nothing that would have tempted Hermione to check her books, although she was beginning to wonder at the purpose of the assignments. Although Snape had made her no promises regarding her apprenticeship - in fact, he hardly ever brought up the subject- he seemed to take it as granted that she would abide by his wishes, not only in completing the ruddy things, but in doing so without turning to her textbooks. He had yet to return a single grade or even make a comment to her about her past work - indeed, if he had not held out a demanding hand on every day that an assignment was due, there would have been no proof that he was aware of the parchments' existence at all. From the first simple assignment, the questions had grown in complexity and depth. In many ways, they seemed to mirror her progression through the years of Potions classes at Hogwarts. Hermione knew that there was an exam required for any hopeful apprentice, and let herself hope that this was Snape's way of preparing her for that exam. By this point - after more than a month of multiple meetings a week - Hermione thought it was safe to assume that as long as she continued to offer him no real reason for complaint, Snape would eventually agree to teach her once again. With that thought in mind, she had begun marking down questions that gave her a bit of trouble, to help her in revision for the hopeful apprenticeship entry exam.

Snape once again held her out on the porch, waiting for her 'excellent reason' before permitting her entry. Hermione had not come prepared with one - having all but run out of viable answers about a week and a half before- and cast about desperately for an idea once it became clear that she would not be permitted entry without some sort of reason. Of a sudden, and for no reason she could think of, Remus' statement that Snape was really the best instructor to challenge her academically and intellectually came to mind. She smiled at the memory of the exchange, and knew she had her answer.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she smiled as she gave her impromptu reason. "I want to be challenged, and I can't think of an apprenticeship that would suit me better in that regard. A lot of teachers I could study under are already satisfied with my academic habits, and probably wouldn't push me much farther than I'd push myself. I don't know that you've ever been described as easily satisfied -" here Hermione tried very hard to keep her expression neutral – "and I think that would be good."

In the silence that followed that statement, Hermione realized that it was more true than she'd imagined. When she and Lupin had first talked about this, the likelihood that Snape would pick apart her words and actions had seemed like an annoyance to be overcome. After the benefit of more time with the man, though, it seemed like more of an effective teaching method. A part of her that sounded a great deal like Ron disparaged this sudden realization, but on the whole she was quite pleased with the way the unexpected answer had turned out.

Snape's face was impassive, but he nevertheless opened the door to allow Hermione inside.

Wordlessly, he lead Hermione downstairs, to the laboratory where more and more of her visits to his house had been taking place. On one of the long workbenches was some project of his own, and on the other was a series of ingredients accompanied by a piece of parchment. Hermione walked over to it, and saw a rather impressive list of preparations and steps. It was obviously a recipe, but looking over it, Hermione found that she was not familiar with it.

"Sir?" she asked, looking up to where he stood near his own desk, watching her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What potion is this? I don't think I've ever seen it before."

"Your memory fails you, then," he drawled in response, his eyes fixing on her own. "That is, however, immaterial. This potion does not require any specific intent or interaction from the brewer – merely your skills. Proceed."

Hermione stared at him a moment in surprise. Normally, when the man didn't answer a question, he ignored it entirely, rather than deliberately acknowledging the question and still leaving it unanswered. At least, that was the behavior that Hermione had grown used to. As she started to feel wounded by the dismissal, Hermione reminded herself that it was still far better than the cutting remarks that would have answered the same question were she still a student at Hogwarts. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the instructions list again, searching her mind for any recollection of the steps spelled out for her. She was almost certain that it matched nothing on the course material, and there was no way that Snape was familiar enough with her extra-curricular reading to just assume she had stumbled across something. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was something on his curriculum for sixth or seventh years, so he assumed that Slughorn had introduced it to her at some point.

None of that mattered at the moment, though. What mattered was the preparation of this potion – whatever it might be. Determined to do well despite what she felt was her disadvantage, Hermione carefully re-checked the list of steps, and set about preparing for the brewing. She made quite sure to read and re-read through the steps and descriptions of the stages of the potion before beginning anything, so she would make no mistakes. Although she'd helped him prepare ingredients and taken a hand in a few stages of different potions he had brewed, Hermione had yet to create a potion entirely by herself in his laboratory – she felt that this was a significant moment, and wanted to make sure she acquitted herself well.

The potion didn't seem to be any more complex than any potions that she had brewed in her final year at Hogwarts, but it was extraordinarily exacting. Without thinking, Hermione found herself making use of the magicked timers on the wall and would have, were she not so caught up in trying to prepare this potion perfectly, been pleasantly surprised by the fact that they responded to her.

As the potion reached one of its simmer stages, Hermione was pleased to note that it looked precisely as it ought to. Taking advantage of the brief respite from stirring and managing the flames, she sapped the juice from a few succulent aloe leaves and wondered as to the nature of the potion she was preparing, and why Snape might have been so closed-mouth about it.

More than an hour later, Hermione was beginning to feel mildly frustrated. The potion looked almost right, but its colour was subtly off - not enough for her to count the attempt as a failure, but enough to sting her pride in her potion-making. To make matters worse, Snape had hardly attended to his own workbench, but rather watched her labours with an indecipherable expression. She re-read all of the instructions, mentally checking off everything she had done correctly. There wasn't a single item on the list that she had missed. According to the parchment before her, this potion should be perfect. There was nothing for it – with a suppressed sigh, Hermione began clearing her implements as she waited for the potion to cool. When it had done so, she decanted it into three bottles that Snape must have placed on the table while she was cleaning. She noticed with a mite of annoyance that, despite what she knew to be his habit of pre-labeling vials and bottles, these were unmarked.

"I've finished," she announced, though it was hardly necessary. Snape held his hands out, and Hermione passed over the bottles of the unnamed potion with a feeling of resignation. As he held up one specimen to the light and inspected it, Hermione bit her lip nervously. The colour was off, she was sure of it. The Professor Snape that she had known at Hogwarts would take that as an excuse to dismiss her efforts as inadmissible, a poor attempt at crafting a potion. But on most occasions, he had been much fairer to her here than he'd ever been while at school – Hermione wondered if that would transfer over to his judgment of the potion.

Snape said nothing, but took the bottles into the study room that adjoined the lab, where he placed them on a counter and sat down before an open book and an assortment of loose parchment.

"Now can I know what that potion was, sir?" she asked, following him.

"In good time," he replied absently, shifting through the stack of parchment.

"I'm sure I followed the steps correctly, but I don't think it came out quite correctly –" she began, but was cut off.

"I have no doubt of your ability to follow direction, Miss Granger. There is little need to assure me of that," he said, selecting a sheaf and rolling it before handing it to her.

Hermione's hopes bolstered a bit as she accepted the parchment. If he was still giving her assignments, he couldn't have discounted her request yet. She resolved to do better the next time he gave her a chance to brew – and to find out what that potion was.

"I'll come back tomorrow, then?" she asked, a little hesitantly, but Snape had already sat down and immersed himself in the book, which she took as her cue to leave.

After an hour of frustrated searching through her Potions texts yielded no hint as to what it is she had brewed that day, Hermione grudgingly moved away from that train of thought and pulled out the evening's assignment.

Although she had put the mystery potion more or less out of her head, Hermione did not have her full attention devoted to the parchment roll as she began reading it. For the most part, she was thinking about Professor Snape's confusing behavior – to be apparently encouraging her interest by answering her questions thoroughly (more often than not), and yet to still be demanding excellent reasons (how she hated that phrase, after almost two months!) created irritatingly mixed signals. To allow – even demand, it seemed – Hermione to come back again and again, and yet be as stiffly un-personable, curt, and often insulting as he was seemed unfathomable to Hermione.

Even as distracted as she was, however, it did not take long at all for the meaning of the sentence she was reading to sink in:

I, Hermione Jean Granger, having averred my interest in furthering the pursuit of knowledge, having completed the requisite course of basic study, and having successfully tested as fully competent in the creation and theory of potions, take it upon myself to pursue an apprenticeship in Potions…

Hermione re-read this sentence three times in quick succession, the dawning light of realization warring with utter incomprehension, before she was able to read the rest of the affidavit in her hands -the affidavit which would officially name her as an apprentice for Mastery in Potions.

In her excitement, Hermione was ready to sign the contract without reading beyond the first small paragraph, but her practical side reasserted itself just in time to stop such a foolish impulse. It was Snape that she was dealing with, after all – she wouldn't really put it past him to have an absurd clause in the agreement somewhere or another. It was with great care, therefore, that she read through the rest of the contract.

From what she'd researched, this was a fairly straight-forward, if slightly antiquated, apprenticeship contract. By signing it, she would be agreeing that she was studying Potions under no coercion; that her first and foremost priority would be the duties and tasks of the apprenticeship; that her first and foremost educational and professional authority within the next three years would be her chosen Master; that she would be completing, within those three years, a number of requirements that would earn her her own Mastery; that if she failed in those requirements, she would retain the status of 'journeyman' unless she wished to re-apprentice for a full three years; and she would, finally, be agreeing to a code of conduct that was centered around respect for and deference to her Master and his ideas of her education.

None of these stipulations were cause for so much as a second thought as far as Hermione was concerned. She turned her attention to the second portion of the contract, which would bind her Master in the way that the first portion would bind herself. In the second portion were clauses spelling out the requirements that would be put upon Snape: that he was taking on an apprentice of his own volition; that he would be ever-mindful of the duties and tasks of a Master towards his apprentice; that his first and foremost professional interest within the next three years would be to oversee and guide his chosen apprentice; that he would, in every way available to him, guide that apprentice towards her Mastery; that he would provide his apprentice with every pertinent tool, book, or necessity that she was needful of but unable to provide for herself; and that he agreed to respect the privilege of passing on the secrets of his craft to his chosen apprentice.

Again, these specifications were acceptable to Hermione – there was nothing that she would not have put in, herself, and she could think of nothing that seemed to be missing. She was sure that Professor Snape could find a loophole if he was determined to be evil to her, but she hoped that he would not have spent almost two months working towards this point if all he had in mind was manipulation or abuse. The Potions Guild, as far as she knew, took breaches of the trust of Mastery quite seriously, and she couldn't imagine a man as upright and painstaking as her former Professor to risk his Master-status over, well, anything – much less playing some sort of trick on her.

It was, therefore, with considerable pleasure and an incredibly light heart that she signed her name neatly on the appropriate line. She noticed that Snape had yet to sign his portion of the contract – without both signatures, the document was not binding – and wondered if he suspected that she might try to sneak some clause or stipulation in.

Hermione's parents were not yet home to share the happy news with, but Remus had told her how to find his little office in the back of Flourish & Blotts, so she Apparated happily to the Leaky Cauldron, and it was with indefatigably bright spirits that she made her way through Diagon Alley and into the famous bookstore.

Apparently, Lupin's days ended early – she was just in time to catch him locking his office door to leave, although it was still fairly early in the afternoon. Although he looked surprised, the older man gave her a wide smile in greeting.

"Hermione! What brings you to our humble little store today?"

"He did it, Remus!" she exclaimed, gushing with delight, "Professor Snape, I mean – he's apparently decided to take me on as an apprentice!" she had had the good sense to not bring the parchment with her, as she'd likely have crumpled it in her enthusiastic hand-wringing, but she now felt somewhat disappointed to not be able to show the proof of her good luck. "He handed me the contract today. He didn't actually tell me what it was, of course, I just thought it was another of his assignments, only it was the contract! And so suddenly – only, I'm not sure how he can have the contract ready so soon, unless he's planning to hold off on signing it until I've taken the exam. Oh!" she added, as the thought dawned on her, "I've so much revising to do! I wonder if I should pick up some new potions books while I'm here," she added, peering around the tall shelves and narrow, winding aisles that surrounded her.

Remus simply laughed at this stream of one-ended conversation as he steered her from the shop. "I'm sure that, between the two of you, you and the Professor have every potions book you could conceive a need for, Hermione," he told her in a joking, gentle tone. "Why don't we go to the apothecary instead, make sure your kit is full of at least the basic ingredients – wouldn't do to give Severus a reason to criticize your preparation," he added with a wink. "After that, we'll pick something up and head to Ron's flat – you deserve to celebrate with your friends!"

Hermione started to agree, but then thought of her parents. Sometimes, it felt as though the gulf between the magical and non-magical worlds was so wide that her friends could almost forget that her parents, while Muggles, were still an active force in her life.

She couldn't blame any of her friends – in a way, she was guilty of such an error of thinking, herself. There were many things – impressively many – that her parents could accept and apparently understand about the wizarding world, but without much personal experience with it, their understanding could only go so far. Her father, while supportive, didn't understand how an apprenticeship could replace formal study at a college or university; and her mother wondered out loud about what sort of a living one could make in Potions. It was not their world, and so even though they did an admirable job of trying to embrace it, there were some things that Hermione couldn't quite share with them.

Is this one of those things? she wondered. She struggled briefly with her indecision, torn between love for her parents and the knowledge that the celebration of her apprenticeship was something that belonged in the wizarding world, with her wizarding friends.

"Actually, can we stop by the Owl Post Office before the apothecary? Only, I want to let my parents know – and warn them that I'm bringing home a dessert of some sort to celebrate. You and the two boys are welcome to join, of course," she said, hoping that this was the proper compromise.

Lupin agreed earnestly, and she found herself writing her parents – I've gotten the apprenticeship! Celebration dinner with Harry, Ron, and Remus – all four of us will be home after dinner for a toast and some flan. – and sending the little nine-knut owl off to give them the happy news.

As it turned out, Hermione was lucky that Remus had suggested a visit to the apothecary – she was needlessly low on many very basic ingredients. By the time she finished refilling her kit with basic supplies, as well as adding more advanced supplies that she was either sure she would need soon or that kept long enough that it wouldn't be a waste to by them now (as she purchased them, she remembered the clause in Professor Snape's portion of the contract stating that he'd have to supply her with anything she lacked – even though she was certain that he had gracious plenty of every necessary ingredient, she didn't like the thought of the man having to provide her with basics that she could buy for herself, not to mention that she didn't want to invite any more criticism than she seemed to attract naturally), Hermione was convinced that she'd single-handedly made Slug & Jiggers' profit goals for that day. It was with a significantly lighter purse, and unaffected high spirits that she left the apothecary to visit Ron and Harry.

Ron couldn't understand the appeal of take-away Chinese, but it was a childhood favorite of Hermione's, as well as being a new-found favorite of both Remus and Harry, and so it was that Hermione and Lupin found themselves showing up to the flat with overflowing bags of Chinese food, setting up to surprise Harry and Ron when they arrived home from the Ministry.

"What's that?" they could hear Ron asking from the entry-way, where the two boys had Apparated, "It smells like…" he gave a great sniff at the air, and they could hear Harry mimicking the action.

"Ahh, brilliant! Chinese take-out, that's what that is!" Harry sounded triumphant as he entered the little dining room and kitchenette area. "Best part of living in Muggle London," he said with great satisfaction, as he greeted both his friends with a hug.

"Say what you like, mate, that stuff can't be safe," Ron said, giving the bags a deeply mistrustful look. This look was quickly wiped away when he noticed that one bag was filled with nothing but fried rice and drumsticks. "I take it all back – you're the best, Hermione," he said with deep emotion, a drumstick already in hand as he went to get a fork for the rice.

"Urgh, Ron," Harry said, with a look of utter dismay, "keep it all inside your mouth, thanks – I'd like to finish my own supper – speaking of which, why the sudden luxury?" he added, turning to face Hermione.

By the time she was done explaining the circumstances through which Snape acquiesced to her apprenticeship, the small group was seated and deeply enjoying their meal. Ron had the good grace – and the aid of a constantly over-full mouth – to keep any negative opinions he had about the arrangement to himself, which Hermione appreciated. She invited them all to her parents' for desert – she'd bought a huge pastry while in Muggle London – and everyone agreed enthusiastically.

It was very late indeed when Hermione's parents eventually succumbed to the desire for sleep, leaving Hermione with another round of congratulations and a warning, from her mother, to be sure she rested well. Remus had seconded this instruction, saying that the only way to start the apprenticeship out on the right foot was to be well-prepared - which she was already - and well-rested for the first day. He gave Hermione a quick hug and then preceded Harry and Ron through the Floo, leaving the boys to make their good-byes.

Ron seemed to have gotten over the good mood which had so graced dinner - he scowled into the fireplace as he stood, his hands in his pockets, before Hermione.

"If it's what you want, I'm glad it's happened," he said slowly. "I still don't like it," he added truthfully, his frown deepening. "He's a manipulative, conniving bastard - you watch him, Hermione."

Although she was glad that he had at least prefaced his concerns with something conciliatory, Hermione refused to dignify Ron's dark mood with a response. She simply turned to Harry, giving him a good-bye hug.

"This'll be really great, Hermione. I'm glad you found a Master - even if it is Snape." Harry gave Hermione a wink, then gestured for Ron to go through the Floo connection, clearly unwilling to leave his two best friends alone when Ron was in a pet.

After the boys' departure, Hermione stared into the fire for a long time, lost in her thoughts. Reflecting on the past weeks of her acquaintance with the Potions Master, Hermione was grateful that he'd taken such a long time to make up his mind about her request. The time had allowed Hermione a glimpse of what the apprenticeship would likely resemble: though her professor was neither kind nor patient, he was intelligent and, for the most part, readily willing to share his knowledge.

Every now and then, she'd noticed, he would pause before answering a more abstract question, would frown at her as if she'd somehow disappointed him in asking. Sometimes after giving her such a look, Snape would refuse to answer the question at all, and would simply proceed with the task at hand as if she'd never asked. This confused Hermione especially because he never seemed to bat an eye at other questions. That look, that feeling of being measured and found wanting, hounded Hermione - Lupin, she realized anew, was right in saying that this was a man who could make her feel challenged and out of her depth in a way that very few instructors ever had. The thought was actually exciting.

As she thought about her new role as a Potions apprentice, Hermione half-heartedly drew up a list of additional shopping she needed to complete. Remus could joke all he liked, but she was planning on fleshing out her library on Potions, and she thought over which titles she was most in want of. Additionally, she intended to visit Madam Malkin's for new robes. The standard robes traditionally worn at Hogwarts ill-befitted potion-making: too much flowing fabric in the sleeves was hazardous in a potions lab, as Neville had had the misfortune to prove more than once. Hermione hoped that Snape might eventually permit her to wear street clothes at some point, but for as long as he remained so rigidly formal she might as well dress practically. Additionally, she was determined to never again feel wrong-footed because of her wardrobe. Memories of how out-of-place she felt in Arth Eagleton's manor surfaced, and she resolved that she would have, along with more practical workrobes, something that would help her feel at ease in finer company.

A log snapped in the fire, and Hermione was brought up from her musings abruptly. Yawning, she noticed that it was soon going to be very early morning instead of very late at night, and so made her way to bed. Elusive as sleep was, she eventually succumbed to dreams, a contented smile on her face.

Had Snape been anyone other than - himself - there would have been no stopping Hermione from throwing herself into a hug the moment he opened his door the next morning. However, Snape being precisely who and how he was, Hermione had the presence of mind to enter quite calmly. It was only when the Professor had escorted her into his study, seated them both, and held out his hand in an unspoken demand of the contract that Hermione indulged in a brilliant smile. She beamed at her soon-to-be Master as she handed over the parchment.

"Wipe that idiotic smile from your face," Snape snapped irritably. "I do hope you had the presence of mind to read the contract before binding yourself by it?" The look on his face implied that he actually found this to be quite too much to hope for.

"Of course, sir," Hermione replied with as much dignity as she could, refusing to rein in her smile. "But I'm not sure I understand -I haven't taken the proficiency exam, so the contract can't be valid yet, can it?"

"Of course it is not valid - the contract requires two signatures, Miss Granger. As to the exam - " and here she could almost imagine a glint of humor in the depths of his black eyes, "-what do you think all those assignments were?"

Hermione's eyes widened with comprehension.

"They were -? But, I could've cheated without even knowing it!"

Irritation crackled in Snape's response. "Of course you couldn't have, nonsensical witch. Every scrap of that parchment was charmed against accepting ill-gotten answers. Besides," he added, "I believe I gave you quite explicit instructions that I expected the answers to be your own. Surely the brain of Gryffindor would know better than to eschew my orders."

Hermione's fears refused to be assuaged. "But I didn't study and I just know -"

"Miss Granger," Snape said in a voice of long-suffering, "might I remind you that the contract you claim to have read is proof positive that you, in fact, performed adequately on the exam. Life will not be so considerate as to give you time to prepare for a moment of crisis. You must be sure in your command of the knowledge that you possess." The glare that he was sending in her direction seemed to dare Hermione to press the point.

She sighed in defeat. "Yes, sir," she said dutifully. "But, then, why hadn't you already signed the contract?"

"I intended to make sure that you fully understood the commitment before we are both bound together by contract for three years. Uneager as I am to spend that length of time with any Gryffindor, I shudder to think of being obligated to a Gryffindor who finds herself disliking a situation she has entered in too lightly."

Hermione found herself torn between feeling offended that Snape so obviously overestimated her empty-headedness, and being touched that he was looking after her interests already. Well, she mused, it's really his own interests he's looking after. He just doesn't want to get landed with an apprentice who suddenly wants out of the contract. That certainly made more sense for the Snape she knew.

"I'd have hoped," she said, a little stiffly, "that the last few months would have proved my dedication to the idea."

"In that last few months you have had a significantly easier time than you will as my apprentice," Snape retorted.

"I certainly hope so," responded Hermione testily. "I'm not exactly one to shy away from dedication to my studies."

"I will demand dedication to more than just your studies," Snape said, and that frowning look that had so hounded Hermione was back in his eyes. "You will need to work towards the betterment of your mind and your skills, more even than your knowledge."

Hermione found herself quite at a loss for how to respond to this statement. Bettering her skills was one thing, but her mind? With barely a shake of her heart, she let the thought go for the time being.

"Of course," she agreed.

"You will follow the instructions I give you, no matter how bizarre or nonsensical they may seem?

Hermione nodded. "Within reason," she added as a sudden afterthought.

Snape shot her a questioning look.

"If you try to instruct me to marry some long-lost nephew of yours," she said with a hint of a smile, "I don't think I'll feel obligated to obey. Anything that relates to my studies and apprenticeship, though, I'll do as instructed."

Snape gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. She thought – hoped – that she saw a glimmer of approval in his eyes at the way she had closed that loophole.

"You will complete all assignments without complaint, no matter how demanding or numerous they are?"

Another nod.

Snape's face was as unreadable as ever as he held her gaze for a long moment. He pursed his lips in an expression of supreme dissatisfaction, then slowly unfurled the parchment, pulling a quill and ink across the table. His face still a mask of long-suffering and annoyance, he signed his name, and then sat back as the parchment rolled itself up and disappeared with a faint crack.

"That went to -?"

"The Ministry," Snape replied with indifference. Abruptly, he pushed his chair back from the study table, standing up.

"I expect you to use the day to procure anything you feel you are lacking in for the immediate future," he said tonelessly, " - with a very careful eye to your ingredients. You will furnish yourself with new notebooks - at least three, although more will certainly be put into use. Return early tomorrow morning; there is tremendous work to be done."

This last statement was said in such a disparaging tone that Hermione bristled instinctively. If he thought her to be such a helpless case, why even bother to agree to allow her an apprenticeship? Of course, this thought served to remind Hermione that he had taken her on as an apprentice, that her months of work and searching had paid off - which brought an ebullient smile back to her face.

Snape turned away from her in his typical dismissal, heading towards, Hermione assumed, his laboratory.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," she called after him.

The man's retreating form paused for half a beat, and then he continued on as if he had heard nothing. Hermione sighed and left.

As she was in Diagon Alley anyway, it was a simple thing for Hermione to stop by Lupin's office at Flourish & Blotts, where she happily confirmed that she was officially an apprentice and thanked Remus for suggesting that she stock up on her ingredients. It felt good to be a step ahead of Snape.

He took an early lunch to join in her errand-running, and surprised Hermione by presenting her with a new kit for holding various ingredients and tools.

"It's not every day that a good friend and former student earns such an excellent apprenticeship, Hermione," he said in response to her stammered protestations and thanks.

"I wouldn't have got it at all if it hadn't been for you," responded Hermione when she could speak properly, "I would have never thought to ask Professor Snape."

"Can't blame you for that," said Lupin with a chuckle as they moved out of the supply shop, Hermione clutching a bag full of new notebooks, quills, and ink.

They made their way over to get Hermione some new robes, where they were met by an extremely flustered Madam Malkin, much to Hermione's chagrin. It had been one thing to receive letters from people following the Daily Prophet during the stretch of time that it had covered the so-called 'love triangle' between herself, Harry, and Victor Krum - it was another thing entirely to have to deal face-to-face with people who were star-struck upon meeting her, whether it was because of her place in the Golden Trio or her war-heroine status. The excitable shop-keeper drove Hermione fairly mad by doting attendance upon her as the girl looked through a selection of robes.

Hermione ended up buying three pairs of robes - all black - that she thought would serve well in the potions lab. They were fitted, with tight sleeves and a collar that closed at the base of her neck. The robes fell almost to knee-length largely because Hermione was growing sick of worrying that she would inadvertently knock something over with the material that swept behind her as she walked around Snape's narrow lab and study, and there were golden buttons (a fitting tribute, she thought, to her Gryffindor pride) in a double-row all down the front. Turning before a mirror, Hermione was quite pleased with the effect - it was certainly more mature than the full, loose robes she was used to wearing, and she looked forward to the convenience the new robes would afford. To go with the robes, she bought several pairs of working pants – also black – to protect her legs from spills or splashes.

That taken care of, Hermione bought herself two pair of dress robes as well. She couldn't imagine much occasion to wear them, but she wanted to be prepared – in addition to her own resolution, she could easily imagine Snape's sneering look and derisive jibes if a situation arose and she found herself empty-handed.

The first set was inspired once again by her House loyalties and very formal - a single, high-collared robe in a deep, jewel red, accented with gold rope. This set had long, tight sleeves a full, heavy skirt that made Hermione feel quite elegant as she once again spun in front of Madam Malkin's mirrors, noting with satisfaction the way the fabric fanned out around her ankles.

The Madam herself suggested Hermione's second pair of dress robes, and Hermione balked at first, relenting only when two kindly old witches who happened to overhear her conversation put their two cents in, demanding that Hermione at least try on the ensemble. So it was with rather more of an audience than she would have liked, including Lupin (who looked quite amused at the spectacle she had unwittingly made of herself), that Hermione tried on the robes that Madam Malkin had suggested. The under robe was a diaphanous, silky material in a very loose cut, with a neck scooped so wide that the dress didn't cover her shoulders at all, leaving her shoulders and neck bare and flowing in wide sleeves and a wide skirt, all in a very deep blue. The over robe looked, to Hermione's skeptical eyes, more like an over-grown corset than anything else - it was sleeveless; a tight-fitting, silver brocade that that tied from her bosom to just below her hips, where it stopped in abrupt line on the front with a more graceful dove-tail in the back. Hermione felt certain that any woman would have felt beautiful in such an outfit - but that did nothing to make her any less self conscious than she admittedly was, being gawked at by Madam Malkin and the two interfering old ladies. She noticed (with deeply heartfelt gratitude) that Lupin was not being so rude as to stare.

"So the three work robes and these two dress sets - will that be it, my dear?" asked Madam Malkin kindly.

"I don't know that I'll be buying these," Hermione said, looking at herself uncertainly in the mirror.

"Oh, but my darling, they suit you so well!" cried the shopkeeper, with the two other women nodding fervently in agreement.

"But they're…they're rather daring, aren't they?" she asked, looking unsurely at Lupin, who shrugged very neutrally. Hermione guessed that he had not had occasion to go clothes shopping with girls much - or spend so much time in a respected establishment as Madam Malkin's - since he became a werewolf, and felt a sudden rush of gratitude to this man who had so easily become such a friend and mentor to her.

Madam Malkin agreed that they may be daring, but then Hermione was coming into her own as a woman - a formidable witch, a war-heroine, the top of her graduating class, and soon about to set the Ministry on its ears, if the Prophet was to be believed - and shouldn't she have something that high-lighted that side of her? Unsure of how best to reply, Hermione weakly gave in.

It was time for Lupin to be back at his office, which Hermione happily escorted him to with a huge flow of thanks and appreciation - for his mentorship, his friendship, and of course his present. Seeing him safely ensconced behind a wall of paperwork, Hermione turned her attention to the books she intended to purchase.

Each sickle spent seemed to garner more confidence for Hermione - she felt as if she understood, at long last, what Lavender and Parvati had meant when they talked about retail therapy. She had her new books and notebooks, she had new robes more appropriate to her position, she had her potions ingredients and a marvelous new kit to put them in - and she had a piece of parchment safely tucked away in the archives of the Ministry of Magic: all of which confirmed her new position as the Potions Master's apprentice.

Do your worst, Professor, she thought with a proud smile, waiting in line to pay for her books, and I'll do my best - we'll just see who wins.

A/N. This coming week is super busy, so you should probably only expect one chapter between now and next Sunday. Also, sorry this chapter was delayed. I intended to have it up on Saturday, but FF.N wasn't allowing me to log in for some bizarre reason. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!

Big thanks to alert reader PhxFether for pointing out some typographical errors in the last chapter.

Side note: I don't know if I want this story to be all Hermione's PoV, or if I should throw a little Snape PoV in there for good measure – and that's a choice that needs to be made soon. Have an opinion? Let me know what you think!