Dinners and lunches became common between them, which surprised Snape, but what was more surprising, was that he found her company enjoyable, most times.
She was still a nightmare when she got an idea into her head, and couldn't shut up about it.
But he knew that her researching skills were very good, not that he'd say it aloud. They had made progress over the days they spent working on the modified spell. Her Arithmancy was a bit weaker than his own, but all in all, not bad.
Occasionally they would test and re-test the spell's theory. He had, over the years, developed a sort of simulator for spells, that would do simple analysis of results and produce nothing more than a red or green blob. Red meant it was most likely a bad idea to test on humans. Green meant it was quite safe, but it still was not a guarantee.
Hermione's jaw had dropped when he revealed the simulator; Snape had the distinct feeling that he was now worshipped by her, knowledge wise, of course.
He had had no choice, especially before he was established and it was safe to assume he would not be recognised. He couldn't obviously test spells that could alter memory or even be fatal on himself. He had eventually worked out the basics, and then tried out the safer spells on random muggles whom he saw at pubs. He used to frequent muggle establishments, when he was still working out how to enter the Wizarding world and without be recognised. True, Albus told him he was a hero, now that they all knew the truth. He was disturbed, but thankful when he learned that the Potter Brat and Granger girl had stood and passionately argued for him in his 'posthumous' trials.
He snorted. So like the Ministry to try and convict a dead man. What a bunch of baboons. But he didn't want the fame, nor the attempts at revenge from still loose and deranged followers of old Voldie.
At one point, he had almost lost hope, and thought that he might have to live with muggles, risking magic sometimes, or move out of the Country. He had considered it, but he loved Old Blighty, lived here all his life, and damned if any other country made tea like the English.
So he tried again, and again, till one day, he had a spark of success.
He usually haunted one pub to keep his notes simple, but if something went wrong with the spell, he was ready to flee. He didn't approve of testing on muggles, but he had no choice. Usually, most people left him alone.
Once he had entered a place where he found only men, and most of them had purposefully disfigured their faces with piercings of every kind; he thought perhaps they wouldn't mind too much, seeing his own slightly disfiguration, but it turned out, they didn't mind at all. In fact they were so friendly, he had to hex a couple slightly, when they repeatedly tried to buy him drinks, and wanted to touch the scar that disappeared into his high collar.
Since then, he'd made sure he entered places that were not too seedy, and had women around.
He knew for sure that his spell worked when a pretty woman had offered to buy him a drink. Just to be sure, he'd entered her mind, and summoned an image of himself as she saw it. It had worked, but it had worked too well.
To her, he looked like a blonde, and definitely resembled one f those bill boards that he saw at junctions, advertising one thing or another. So off he went, to modify the equations yet again. It had taken him nearly a year to get to this point, but now, he knew atleast some sort of spell.
He'd found the Mirror Mind spell when he had spent every single moment of his waking time in the extensive dark arts libraries of both Grimauld and Spinners (when he could be sure that there was no one around) and the books that Albus had house elves smuggle to his unplottable cottage somewhere in England. His main aim was to find out why one part of his hair had turned platinum white, and why that part glowed when he was charged with magic.
His throat had taken the better part of many months to return to almost normal, till which time he suffered with a scratchy voice and frequent pangs of pain. He didn't expect that he would live to tell the tale, but he wasn't stupid either.
Snape had taken many precautions and spent many years during his time as a spy, in trying to find an anti-venin. It was not anything close to easy, to get a sample of Nagini's venom to work on, and most of her victims gave him tainted and stale samples.
His efforts had to be discreet and it was not easy, what with being in the Dark Lord's inner circle. Sure, he got to see Nagini too many times than he cared for, but he couldn't touch her, let alone get a fresh sample of her venom.
In the end, it was the Dark Lord Himself who gave him the opportunity.
Snape had spent a terrifying quarter of an hour holding a vial, with an ever-preserve charm, to Nagini's fangs, waiting for the vial to fill, feeling the rancid breath on his face. Each drop had taken an agonisingly slow descent into the vial, the clear slightly yellow liquid thick and innocent looking.
The Dark Lord wanted him to make a potion that would kill slowly, but torturously for his amusement. He wanted to use it to poison, and replace people with power, who refused to be his allies. Snape shuddered at the memories, and it was almost as if he could smell the slimy monstrosity.
Snape had made the potion, to his disgust, but Albus thought it was a good idea to keep his cover and do a good job of it. The more the Dark Lord trusted him, the better the information, and Albus was not letting this opportunity by.
Snape heard praises about the potion's working. It killed by slowly shutting down organs and dissolving tissue inside, till the victim was naught but a burned husk of their bodies. And Snape had done an excellent job. The potion took nearly three quarters of an hour to kill, but the victims were out of their mind with agony ten minutes in.
Snape still had nightmares of screaming people. He had taken to dosing himself with dreamless sleep, increasing dosage till he was addicted. The after effects were so bad; he couldn't maintain a steady hand to make potions.
With a will greater than he had ever had, Severus had brought himself out of the habit, suffering months of insomnia and then progressing to short naps. It was a very long time before he could stabilise his magic to the state where he could fire a spell without it warping into something else.
With the effects of the venom, the anti-venin, and the addiction and subsequent detoxification, his magic changed. Only children were known to change their magic and therefore changed wands till they stabilised with one. Only the rich families afforded to get their children wands before the age of 10 or 11. Many got their first wands only when they went to school, if they did. Contrary to popular belief of the ignorant, Every wizard child in England didn't go to Hogwarts, only the brightest or the ones who could afford schooling, one way or the other. The list versus the actual enrolled students was not 100%.
Many children were home-schooled and still others learned trades where they taught specific magic.
His changed magic meant he couldn't use his wand very well; of course he had other wands, which the Dark Lord had made for his followers. They were untraceable and if they lost the wand, the ministry couldn't track it back to them.
The Dark Lord was quite generous with his killing tools.
For a long time, Severus had used the untraceable wand that served him best. Once he realised what was happening to his magic, he worked to stabilise it. And then set about perfecting the modified Mirror Mind spell and potion.
Severus sat now, nursing his firewhiskey, thinking on times past, and all that had come to this. He touched the scar that was free and open now. When Granger was around, he usually cast a glamour on it. He wasn't ready to show his scars to the world just yet.
The Ministry had owled again, to remind him of his pending Ministry enquiry; he snorted, as if anyone would forget. He had a little over a week, but Granger and he had worked long and hard, they were well ahead of schedule.
The Granger girl had meekly asked if he could call her by her given name, and Snape had merely sneered and not answered.
He was considering it, although. They were colleagues now, not just student and teacher. They had suspended her studies just until this was finished. With a sigh, he realised that Granger had earned the right to use his First name as well. Now all that was remaining was how to break the news to her without her getting all teary and excited. He certainly didn't want her to think he was going soft.
He asked that part of his brain that was snickering to kindly bugger off.
"Hermione," he tried the name on his tongue, and it rolled off like it had uttered her name since eternity.
Snape smiled.