Snape stood in the crowded lift ignoring the suspicious glances and waiting as patiently as he was capable of being for it to arrive on the third level.

The witch crammed up next to him, with her pulpy breast smashed into his arm, had the most atrocious breath he'd encountered since Macnair. He finally graced her with his most malignant sneer and said, "Must you breathe?"

She recoiled with a huff that nearly peeled the paint off the walls, and the other occupants of the lift stared at him in resentment.

The lift stopped at the third level and he began to force his way out, stopping just short of hexing people when the doors started to close again before he reached them. It probably wasn't a good idea that they no longer took a person's wand when one arrived. Winning the war presented all sorts of unexpected temptations.

He squirted out of the lift with a growl, adjusting his robes and patting his pockets, before heading away from the office of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and towards the lowly and easily missed Office of Potion Patent Applications.

He opened the door and stopped short. "Miss Granger?"

He stared at the stacks of books making up a barrier three feet long and two feet high on the counter where she usually stood. Her head popped up over the top and her eyes widened in alarm. She didn't bother moving the books so she could lift the section of counter; she just crawled under it. He stepped backwards in alarm at the sight of her.

The Miss Granger he had first run into in this office had been a self-assured and well put together young woman. This creature resembled a crazed mad-woman, with her hair nearly standing on end and filled with quills, and ink stains on her fingertips, robes and even under her nose and across her cheek.

"I blew it. didn't I? You did this marvelous thing for me, out of the goodness of your heart, and I failed you!" She scuttled up to him and grabbed handfuls of his cloak. "I'm so sorry! You were right! You were always right about me!" Her face morphed from grief, to irritation in a heartbeat. "Except for the teeth, there's a big fucking difference between a slight malocclusion and honking big fangs growing down to your chin, you know!" She turned away and crawled back under the counter and disappeared behind her pile of books. "Go. Just leave me. This is the only thing I'm qualified for. It was cruel of you to offer me hope," her muffled voice said.

Silence reigned after her dramatic last words. He closed the door behind him, and walked over to the counter, as quiet sobs emitted from behind the books. Closer inspection revealed they were an eclectic mix of school textbooks, and more in-depth tomes borrowed from the Ministry library.

"If you are quite done?" he said in irritation.

Her head popped back up. "You're still here?" She mopped at her face with a sleeve and smeared more ink on it. "Oh, you want to submit another Patent Application, don't you?" Her head disappeared again before he could stop her.

"Miss Granger!" he snapped.

She reappeared at once, with a frightened look in her eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"Have you decided what N.E.W.T.s you would like to sit? You have qualified to take all of them except for Divination. Your scores for that were abysmal."

She gaped at him like a puffer fish, making him scowl even more. "All of them except…?"

He watched as her eyes rolled up and she dropped out of sight with a thud. He scrambled under the counter to see her sprawled face-down on the floor.

"Miss Granger?" he called, as he crawled to her side.

He cast a Diagnostic Charm to see if she was seriously injured, and then slid an arm under her, lifted her up, and turned her over, ending up with her in his lap. He fixed her nose with a quick Episkey, and zapped her with an Ennervate. "Miss Granger?"

She opened her eyes and looked around, disoriented, before her eyes settled on him and she smiled. "Hello, Simple Mister Snape," she said dreamily.

"Hello, indeed," he said, shoving her off his lap onto the floor again. "Why don't you show me where the tea things are, you look like you could use some. When was the last time you ate?"

"How long has it been since I took that test?" she asked.

"A week and a half," he replied. "It took some time for each professor at Hogwarts to grade their section. Surely you've eaten since then?"

"I'm not exactly sure about that. In fact, I think I ran out of tea last week and keep forgetting to pick some up."

He climbed to his feet. "Come on, Granger. Let's feed you. You're obviously delusional from lack of nutrition."

After locking and warding her office door, they set off back to the lift and headed to the Floos.

Arriving at The Leaky Cauldron, they found a seat in the corner. For once the nasty stares he usually received were muted in favor of open-mouthed stares at his companion's state of attire. She finally seemed to notice.

"If you could order me something, I'll be right back," she said, blushing furiously.

He watched her set off for the ladies before turning towards the slouchy waiter and giving him an order for two of the day's special and a pot of tea. He pulled out her evaluation and tried to smooth the folds where it had been crushed in his pocket.

Two steak pasties and the tea arrived just as Miss Granger had made it back to the table. Her stomach gurgled loudly when she sat down. She looked infinitely more human, and less inky, and they set to eating without bothering with conversation. It wasn't until the second pot of tea arrived that he sat back and picked up her evaluation.

"Just what was all that back there in the office, Granger? Surely you couldn't have been that worried, aside from your Divination score—which would have been higher had you simply randomly picked answers—you scored in the eighty-ninth percentile in the next lowest subject."

Her face fell and she looked like she'd received a blow. "What subject was that?" she asked, in a shocked and worried voice.

He scowled at her and replied, "Potions."

"Oh, good heavens. I'm terribly sorry, sir."

He tossed the papers down in disgust. "Granger, you haven't been in a classroom in over eighteen months. You fought and won a war between now and then. I gave you no time to prepare—indeed, I didn't even give you enough time to sharpen a quill—and you still scored in the top eleventh percentile of the entire Wizarding population, and you're sorry?"

"But that was just the pretest. I'm sure it wasn't nearly as in depth as the N.E.W.T.s themselves. And besides, I've never scored an eighty-nine in anything before. That's terrible."

"Actually, Granger, I gave you a truncated version of the N.E.W.T. test without the practical, so it wasn't any easier. And if you feel terrible with an eighty-nine in potions, then I won't bother to inform you of your thirty-two in Divination."

"Oh, Divination doesn't count. It's far too stupid a subject for me to begin to give a damn about."

He raised an eyebrow at her utter dismissal of one aspect of her education. After witnessing her complete collapse over the subjects she'd basically mastered without trying, it was even more confusing.

"So what do you want to concentrate on?" he asked, handing over her scores.

"Obviously, not Divination," she said as she scanned the sheet. "Can't I take all of the rest of them?"

"You could if you're a masochist. It would require a ridiculous amount of time and energy. Isn't there an area you've thought about to specialize in? A type of magic that intrigues you? A subject that draws you?"

"Well, I have been interested in trying to find out how to reverse Memory Charms," she said casually.

It might have worked if he'd remained unaware of her story. However, he saw the slight tremble of the lip, before it was pulled under her teeth, and the slight strain around the eyes that presaged the sting of future tears.

"That's a noble calling. You would need to study to be a Healer first, which requires Potions, Arithmancy and Charms, and then you would do well to specialize in Defense Against Dark Arts, since there are many overlaps between reversing spell damage from curses and curing inadvertent spell damage, and Dark Arts deals with the effects on the mind more that the other disciplines."

"How long do you think it would take to get to the level of competency required to be able to heal memory trauma?"

Again, she asked it in a casual, theoretical, almost whimsical voice, and he realized just how well-practiced she was at underplaying her own losses during the war.

"I'm not going to mollycoddle you, Granger. The level of expertise you are talking about will take you at least ten years of intensive study to achieve, and it's a well-known fact that Memory Trauma becomes permanent after only two or three months at the most. There is nothing you can do to save your parents. However, if you want to try and save someone else's down the road…"

His words faded off as she lost control of her facade. Her eyes filled with the postponed tears and her jaw shook as she tried to control her mouth.

"I didn't know," she said quietly. "I thought I was saving them. I didn't know it would be permanent." She pulled into herself, her arms wrapping around her stomach, and her shoulders hunching up tight. She turned her face away as the waiter returned to the table to take the plates.

"Two brandies, if you please, and the bill," he told him. When he was gone, Snape looked at her and watched in fascination as she struggled to get her emotions under control. What an odd girl, he thought. She could easily go to pieces over the possibility of a bad grade–in a subject she felt worthy–and yet struggled not to react at all when it came to losing people she cared about. He sighed and drew on his experience as Head of Slytherin.

"You did save them, Miss Granger. The Dark Lord had ordered their deaths, and yours as well." She darted a shocked glance at him, and he nodded his head solemnly. "I understand how much you must hurt that you cannot reverse the damage, but at least understand that what you did was not foolish. I am very sorry that you lost your parents. For all intents and purposes, they did indeed die. But there are two people in Australia that are rather happy to be alive at the same time, yes?"

She nodded and made a small gulping noise in her throat before turning towards the waiter. She reached for her brandy and the bill, snatching it away from his fingers.

"This is on me, Mr. Snape. I cannot repay you for what you have done for me, not just in arranging for me to take my tests, but in restoring a badly mauled sense of conviction. I was so sure I was right to do what I had done. But as the war ended and everything seemed to slide back to normal in only a few short months, it seemed like I had made a colossal mistake. No one ever told me that my parents were actually targets. It only seemed like a logical bit of caution if I was going to go on the run. You've made me feel better about my decision, and maybe that will help with the loss." She lifted her brandy up and said, "To new understandings and second chances."

He tipped his glass to her and drained it.

Hermione sat at her small desk in her tiny flat and went over seven years' worth of Herbology with gusto. She was amazed and excited about how much of it came back to her and she filled scroll after scroll with notes. There was no practical for Herbology, so she was concentrating on bulleting those points she thought she would need to go back over before the test came up in June.

She was interrupted by a loud pounding on her door that made her jump and sent Crookshanks' claws into her thighs as well. She shooed her familiar off her lap and stood up, pulling out her wand.

"Hermione! We know you're in there!"

She smiled and raced over to the door and threw it open.

"Ron! Harry! Come in!"

She hugged her friends as they stepped into her flat, filling the small space to capacity.

"Blimey. Would you look at this place?" Ron said. The two men stared at the cluttered scrolls and scraps of parchment and the stacks and stacks of books on every surface. "Oi! Harry, look." Ron pointed to the color-coded revision schedule on the wall over her desk and the two men snorted and laughed.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" added Harry. "Lord, Hermione, have you eaten? You used to forget to eat when it got this bad."

She laughed and nodded. "Yes. Snape sends me Patronus messages at noon and six in the evening if I don't send him one first. I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be in school." Ron gave her a skeptical look. "Alright, I wasn't well-wrapped when this all started, but I've been much better in the weeks since. In fact, I'll prove it. Let me grab my handbag, and we'll go grab a bite."

"You're on. I'm starving," said Ron. "Can we do curry?"

"Sure, there's a place right around the corner." She pulled out her wand and sent her little otter scampering out the door.

"You really have to tell Snape you've eaten?" asked Harry.

Hermione blushed. "Trust me. After the second time he found me half-demented from lack of food, the lecture was long, blistering and humiliating. Sending him a message is much better than having him appear in person."

She locked up and they headed out the door.

"So what brings you two to darken my humble door unexpectedly on a beautiful Saturday?" she asked, once they were seated and drinks and appetizers ordered.

"We had a weekend off," said Harry, "so we went to the Burrow. We thought we'd stop by and see you before meeting up with Ginny in Hogsmead later. You look good, Hermione. Happy, you know?"

She flushed and distracted herself with pulling the paper off her straw.

"So tell us about Snape," said Ron, earning an annoyed glare from Harry.

"What about him?"

"Rumor has it you two are an item. Is it true?"

Hermione choked on her sip of water. "Me and Snape? Are you serious? What rumor? Whose rumor?"

"Rita Skeeter's rumor," muttered Harry "You're still not reading the papers, are you?"

"Only the sports section on Mondays to find out what you two are up to. Have I really been in the papers? With Snape? The Wizarding world must be bored out of their minds to make us an item."

"It started a few weeks ago," Harry said. "When you were photographed looking rather upset with him in the Leaky. We were both worried about you, until we got your letter. It would've been the afternoon that he told you about your parents. The gossip has been going on here and there since. Then yesterday another photograph appeared, and it all blew up again."

Ron dug into his pocket and pulled out a torn bit of newspaper and smoothed it out before handing it over to her. The caption read, 'Beauty tames the Beast? Or does the Beast corrupt the Beauty?' The photo showed her and Snape standing in Flourish and Blotts on Thursday afternoon. He was facing the camera and looming over her as he handed her a copy of Damage From the Dark, A Guide to Torturing the Mind. As she watched, the Hermione in the photo opened it, revealing the title to the observer. What made Hermione blink wasn't the book—he'd suggested it following their conversation that day in the Leaky—it was the look on his face as she bent closer and began to read. He smiled. Not a quirk of the lips, like she usually received, and not the superior smirk, that usually occurred when she'd let herself look foolish. It was an actual smile. A relaxed, happy smile.

"Good heavens," she said.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what we said," Ron muttered. "So… What's the story?"

Hermione looked up from the photo. Harry and Ron both showed concern, but her boys were waiting to get all the facts before they rushed to judgment. After a year on the run looking for Horcruxes, the three of them shared an understanding of each other that was uncanny sometimes. She smiled at them.

"There isn't a story." She waved the picture. "I admit it looks like there's a story, but it's just not true. I don't actually see Snape very often. This revision has been mostly just a correspondence course. He comes in to the office every once in a while because of his patents, and we'll go over things then, but other than that it's just owls back and forth. We met Thursday at the bookstore because I wanted advice on my DADA practical, and he had said there were several good books to choose from. That book…" She sighed. "Snape knows I would like to study Healing so I could maybe save people like my parents some day. That book has a lot of information on why the mind is so easily damaged. He's not corrupting me at all. As for the look on his face… I don't know what to say. I've never seen that smile before, I can tell you that much."

"Maybe he just had wind," said Ron. Hermione and Harry both looked at him. "What? People always say that when babies smile. It could have been the same thing."

"I think he must like being helpful," said Harry. "The camera just caught what he never wanted anyone to see. We know Snape ran deeper than we could ever tell. Honestly, think about it. Why is he helping you? There's nothing in it for him. Maybe all that Slytherin shite was a smokescreen."

"I think you might be pretty close to the truth there, Harry," she said.

She placed the picture on the table between them and they all watched him smile as she dived into the book again.

"Well," said Ron. "If he doesn't want anyone to know he's really a nice man, then he's got to be bloody furious right about now."

Snape was bloody furious. The owls had been dropping off Howlers ever since that damned picture had appeared in the morning paper the day before. He'd given up and simply left his kitchen window open and placed an Imperturbable on his lab door so he couldn't hear the constant cacophony of all the shrieking post that landed on his kitchen table.

The letters were irritating enough, but he was truly angry with himself. He'd allowed himself one fucking unguarded moment of pride in his student, and it had been caught on camera. Flitwick could fawn all over a bright pupil and no one accused him of being a lecher. Minerva had always been unstinting in both her pride and her praise. In all his years of teaching he had never shown a student even the slightest praise, except for the occasional public display of support for a Death Eater's child, and even then he had always prided himself on being both subtle and backhanded.

But one small moment of self-satisfaction and he'd not only shamed himself, but most likely ruined Granger's reputation as well. The whole point of this exercise was to give her a new start so she could find decent employment. Now her name was being dragged through the mud because he'd allowed himself to be proud of how hard she was trying to make silk out of the sow's ear the world had handed her.

It was more than likely the girl wasn't even aware of the scandal. He knew she never bothered with the papers. Certainly her annoying otter had sounded happy enough when it had scampered in and announced she was off to eat lunch with the Dubious Duo. He wondered at the timing of that. Her letters barely mentioned them, and he was sure she hadn't actually seen them since the Quidditch season had started up. Now they were all off to lunch together, while he hid from his own kitchen.

He swore vehemently and set about scrubbing down his workbench until he was interrupted by the chiming of his wards. His head came up and his eyes narrowed as he looked back up the basement steps.

He snatched open his front door with his wand at the ready, but dropped it when he saw who was standing there.

"Good afternoon, Minerva. This is unexpected. Do come in." He swung the door wide.

"Good afternoon, Severus. I thought I would finally take you up on that offer of tea."

"When was I foolish enough to do that?"

"I think it's been about six years, now, and you had been drinking."

He smirked and led her into his sitting room, shoving a pile of books onto the floor to make room.

He gave her a significant look and raised both of his eyebrows and said, "I'll go put the kettle on."

Another owl flew past the window and dropped another red envelope in the basket on the table and he zapped it with his wand, accidentally Vanishing the basket with his zeal. He arranged the tea things on a tray and added some Muggle ginger cake before carrying it all into the sitting room.

He placed the tray down on the low table in front of the couch and sat in his chair. "So tell me. What brings the Headmistress of Hogwarts to my humiliating abode? Come to beg me to accept a teaching position now that I'm famous for my tutoring?"

Minerva frowned. "You know I would have hired you if I could have, Severus. The Board of Governors wouldn't even let me finish my speech." She sat forward and poured two cups of tea, adding cream and sugar to both before passing him a cup. "I am not Albus, to assume I can run a game on you, you know very well why I am here."

"And yet, I have a need to hear it said out loud," he sneered.

"Very well. Why Hermione, Severus? It's not like you at all to help someone without some sort of personal gain."

"Is it not?"

"Don't play coy with me. You're far too Slytherin to do anything without a reason. In all my years of working with you, I've never seen you take a personal interest in a single student. Why now? Why Miss Granger?"

"SEVERUS SNAPE! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN KISSED! THEY SHOULD HAVE THROWN YOUR SOULLESS BODY FROM THE WALLS OF AZKABAN! YOU LEAVE THAT INNOCENT GIRL ALONE, OR I WILL COME HUNT YOU DOWN AND TAKE CARE OF YOU MYSELF!"

Snape let the Howler run its course before he put up a Silencing Charm around them. "Does that about cover your sentiment, Minerva?"

"What on earth was that?" she asked, visibly shaken.

"My fan mail. I've been getting more than usual for the last two days. Not nearly as many as when I was pardoned, however."

"No, my boy, that does not cover my sentiment at all. I am not out for blood, just for clarity. You scored a direct hit when you made me realize that I had never bothered to find out why Miss Granger hadn't responded to the school. I will admit that along with having my hands full with the repairs and the incoming year, my pride might have been a little stung that none of the Golden Trio bothered to come back and finish their education at the school that had been nearly destroyed for them."

"For them?"

"Oh, all right, for all of us. But you can't say that Mr. Potter wasn't the main reason that the school was attacked."

"Yes, I can. I assure you, Minerva, had Potter died with his mother and father, the school would have fallen nearly twenty years ago. Because of students like Miss Granger." He set his tea down on the table and leaned closer.

"Minerva, I will explain myself this once in the simple terms you Gryffindors prefer. I did what I did to atone for something I caused when I was the same age Miss Granger is now. I did what I did so that students like Miss Granger could have a fighting chance in our world. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, not for any insidious attempt at personal gain.

"I admit, when I first saw Miss Granger rusticating in that tiny little cell they call an office, I was highly amused. The girl had always been a pain in my arse. That doesn't mean I wasn't furious when I realized that this ludicrous job of hers was the very best she could hope for in our world. Even I can admit she represents the best of us. And the idea that she's been denied her future? I can accept that my ability to hold employment is nonexistent because of my actions and choices, but I didn't nearly die in that damned shack so that the best student we've seen in decades could just be a fucking Civil Servant."

"Well," said Minerva. "That explains things rather clearly." She set her cup down on the chipped saucer and gathered up her cloak but then stilled and turned to him. "Except for the smile. Severus, I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen you smile and have fingers left over. Are you sure there isn't something else you need to tell me?"

Severus scowled. "All that my unfortunate choice of facial expressions meant was that I've become rather proud of the way she's risen to the challenges set for her. Nothing more."

Minerva stared him down for a moment and then relented. "It's tragic really; it took you losing your job to realize how fulfilling teaching can be. You always were a perverse creature, Severus."

He snorted and stood up to show her to the door.

And him doing what he did had absolutely nothing to do with her being nice to him...

Ch'yuh