It took two days before the reply came. Two long, agonizing days. Days in which her Gringotts account shrank to terrifyingly small proportions. Several expenses had come up which could not be forestalled. It felt as if the universe itself was conspiring against her. Worse still, she had yet to see a second employment option present itself. Despite her initial hesitation at taking a position so far beneath her expertise, Hermione now realized that the job was a golden opportunity. One she would not let slip by her. She had no other options.

The missive was delivered by an enormous Northern Hawk owl. It dropped the parchment on her kitchen counter and then waited, presumably for a reply. Hermione's fingers shook as she opened the seal and read the contents.

Miss Granger,

By all accounts you seem vastly overqualified for this post. My curiosity is piqued, however, and I am willing to set up a time to interview you in person, if you are still amenable. I have included a picture of the estate to make your Apparition easier. Does this afternoon, two o'clock, sound agreeable to you? My owl awaits your prompt reply.

SP

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding and scrambled to find a quill and parchment.

Sir,

Two o'clock is perfect. I look forward to making your acquaintance.

Yours, Hermione Granger

Once the massive bird had the note attached to its leg, it flew off, and Hermione used her mobile phone to contact Madam Serene and make sure she would be available that afternoon. Once she had everything arranged, she made lunch and then began sorting through her closet looking for something to wear.

Normally she would wear business robes to an interview with a prospective employer, but this was much different work than what she was used to. Her mother had told her once that one should dress a single step more formal than what their future working attire would be. The problem was that she didn't know what professional housekeeping attire was. At home, she cleaned in faded jeans and a tank top or sweat shirt depending on the weather. Didn't some housekeepers in private estate wear specific uniforms? The vision of a frilly french maid outfit popped into her mind and she banished it immediately. Of course she would never wear anything of the sort.

It was easy to say, but only two hours before she had been looking at her dismally empty cupboards and wondering just how far she would go to keep food on the table. It wasn't a pleasant thought. In her school years, she would have disappeared from society for a while until she could get back on her feet. It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to live off her wits and wand. But she was no longer a teenager with no other responsibilities than herself.

She settled on powder blue robes that were cut stylishly but not formally. The color reminded her of the gown she'd worn to the Yule Ball in fourth year. While the night hadn't ended the way she'd wanted, it had still been wonderful. She would need the comfort of those memories for her interview. Already, she was trembling slightly. She felt as if her fate was in the hands of some unknown old man. It was ridiculous, of course. She made her own fate. If this didn't work out, she would find another way to get by. Failure wasn't an option. But this job could be the answer to all her problems.

At quarter till two, Madam Serene arrived. Hermione greeted her, made certain the older witch still had her mobile number (as if she might have lost it in the two hours since they'd last talked), and then Apparated herself to the house of her future employer.

She landed gracefully and looked around. She was standing on the lawn of a beautiful estate. The picture he'd sent had only given her a basic impression of grandeur, but in real life, the house was breathtaking. Perhaps a little bleak for her taste, but it was a model of Gothic and Victorian architecture. She suddenly understood why the salary was so high. If she was to be the only one tending to the house and grounds, she would have her work cut out for her.

After crossing the lawn for what felt like ages, she reached the large front door and raised the heavy brass knocker. It fell with a hollow thud that echoed. Had she not been accustomed to facing death itself since she was eleven, she might have shuddered. As it was, she smiled at the original designer's flare for the dramatic. She waited, breath bated and hands balled into fists so they didn't shake. When the door knob turned, her heart skipped a beat and she remembered to press her palm against the wool of her robes so the first impression she gave her future employer wasn't a damp hand.

The door swung open, and from the darkness within emerged Severus Snape. He flicked his gaze over her and then stood to the side, presumably so she could go by him into the house. "Come in, Miss Granger," he drawled.

Hermione stared. She blinked. Then she stared some more. Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her. If they were, then her ears were in on the joke too, because only one man had a voice like that. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out.

"Not that I don't enjoy your impression of a trout, but perhaps you would like to continue it inside?" He smirked at her, clearly enjoying her shock.

"Y-you... you're SP? How is that possible?"

Snape sighed, realizing they would be starting their conversation in the doorway. How uncouth. "Obviously the S is for Severus. The P is for Prince. My mother's maiden name. After the war, I found it prudent to use a pseudonym."

"I... I..." She could see it all now. Trying to discuss terms with him, him laughing in her face at her misfortune, throwing her out of his home without a backward glance. Or worse, giving her the position and then making her life hell. For herself, she could manage. But she wasn't the only factor here. "I can't do this. I'm sorry." She didn't even bother to turn away before she Apparated home.

She made it just long enough to send Madam Serene on her way before she burst into quiet tears. She had been pinning all her hopes on that position. When next month's rent came due, she wouldn't have enough money to pay it. What was she going to do?

BAM BAM BAM

Someone was pounding on her door. She jumped up and wrenched the door open before they could pound again. Standing on her stoop was Severus Snape. Mortified, she realized she hadn't even taken the time to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Humiliation made her flush red. They only looked at each other for a long moment. Eventually Snape raised one raven brow.

"Are you going to invite me in, or not?"

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door, then at Snape once more. She sighed. It had been terribly rude of her to Apparate off without giving him any more explanation. She owed him an apology at least. "Come in," she murmured, moving aside and letting him pass her.

Severus looked around the room slowly, letting not a single thing escape his gaze. The flat was nice enough, not spacious, but clean and sound. There were several odd things in the corners- "I'm sorry I ran off like that, Professor. It was extremely rude of me."

"Indeed, it was." He seated himself in the chair she gestured him towards. "And I am no longer your professor, Miss Granger. Or a professor in any capacity, for that matter."

"Sorry, Sn- sir."

Severus sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You are bound to need to refer to me by name at some point, Miss Granger. Since I imagine it would be too much to ask you to adopt my alias and call me Mister Prince, I think we should settle on the more informal. Call me Severus, if you will."

"Severus," she acknowledged, somewhat awkwardly. It was so strange to be calling him by his given name. Even eight years since the last time she'd set foot in his classroom, it seemed almost... disrespectful to call him that.

"Now then. Would you care to tell me why you fled my stoop like the gates of Hades had just opened before you?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I was completely taken aback. I had pinned so much on being able to get that post that I reacted emotionally instead of rationally. It wasn't my intention to bother you or waste your time."

"And why, pray tell, would it have been a waste of my time? You seem convinced already that you will not get the job."

"Well I just assumed-"

"Minerva led me to believe that you were in dire straights. Not that one would guess from your living arrangements." He waved casually around him. Hermione felt her hackles rise.

"Minerva told you about my situation? Is that why you posted that advertisement?"

"Of course not! As if I would set out to hire you specifically. I contacted Minerva as one of your references. She filled me in on a small part of your comings and goings since you left Hogwarts, and mentioned that the only reason she hadn't employed you herself was that you had some sort of situation that required more leeway with scheduling and housing than she was able to accommodate."

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding and relaxed her shoulders. She should have known that Minerva wouldn't have said more than that. "She is right. A drafty, somewhat irritable castle wasn't suitable living conditions, nor am I able to hold a regular nine to five position."

"And would you care to elaborate on why?" he drawled.

"No, I would not."

"Fine. Then perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to why, now that you have explained that you have such exacting requirements, you are immediately walking away from a post that seems to fit?"

"It would never work." She shook her head, trying to explain as simply as possible. No reason to go into details. "The job itself isn't the problem. I would not suit what you are looking for. Not to mention, your disposition and personality-"

"What about my disposition makes you unsuited to mop the floors?" His voice rose in anger, old resentments getting the better of him. This was why he'd taken his mother's name. He'd been cleared by the fucking Ministry, but still, people shunned him. Well they could all go to hell. It wasn't as if he needed-

"Keep your goddamn voice down!" Hermione hissed at him, looking back at the bedroom door sharply.

"Why?" he snarled. "We have already established that my nasty temperament excludes you from my employment. What further reason could there be to stifle my natural acerbity?" He pushed up from his chair and prepared to storm from her pretentious little flat and never return. The door to his left opened and old habits rushed back to him. He had his wand in his dueling hand in a flash. Before he could even see what was behind the door, Hermione moved. Faster than he'd ever seen her draw her wand, faster than even he could react, she'd disarmed him and put herself between him and the opened door.

Had he been prone to such displays, his mouth would have fallen open in shock. No one currently living had ever disarmed him like that. Before he could either demand an explanation or praise her skill – and he still wasn't sure which he would do – a small sob came from behind her.

"Muuuummmy!"

She heaved a sigh and looked close to tears. Then she shuddered her face and put on a mask of neutrality and turned to the little boy toddling up behind her. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and dragged a blue bunny on the floor in his wake with the other. Hermione scooped him up in her arms and pressed a kiss to his sandy brown hair. He looked like he was going to cry again, then noticed Severus and his brows drew together in confusion.

"I'm sorry we woke you, sweetheart. Do you think you can lay back down? It's still nap time."

The little boy shook his head adamantly and stuffed the foot of the bunny in is mouth. He stared at Severus with wide, amber eyes. Hermione let out another long-suffering sigh and fought to maintain her composure.

"This is the reason," she finally said to Severus. If the circumstances had been any different, the look of shock and befuddlement on his face would have been amusing. Instead, she only felt frustration and disappointment. Few people knew about her son. That was the way she needed to keep it. Since it was obvious that Snape – no, Severus, she reminded herself – wasn't going to be her employer, there was no reason for him to know. On the other hand, she knew for a fact that he was an expert at playing things close to the vest. Perhaps if she explained, without any details, of course, that she wanted to keep from broadcasting her son's existence to all and sundry, he would respect her wishes.

"You have a son," he said numbly.

"Well spotted." The subject of their conversation began to squirm in her arms so she set him down. He kept his eye on Severus, as if the boy expected him to attack at any moment, but moved to the toy box in the corner that had been so out of place earlier. Now, it made perfect sense.

"Your letter did not say that you had a child."

"No, it didn't. I had planned to bring it up when we met today. Obviously I need quarters that can accommodate a toddler, and a work schedule that will allow me to supervise him."

"And the boy's father is...?"

"Not in the picture," Hermione replied tightly. It was not a subject open for discussion. Severus studied her face and thought.

"Well that certainly explains a lot."

"And now that you've had your curiosity sated, you can see why I would be totally unsuitable for the position you are offering. If you would just-" She moved to open the front door for him, but the smug git lowered himself back into her chair and tented his fingers beneath his chin.

"I have seen no such thing. Perhaps you are the one who has found me unsuitable. And if so, then I suggest you reconsider your standards."

"You cannot honestly tell me that you would be willing to have a toddler running around your home. He is well behaved, but there are times when even the best behaved toddler screams and throws things." Severus raised his eyebrow at her as if in challenge. "And the first time you raised your voice at him or insulted him, I would hex you and put myself out of a job."

"So you are suggesting that I am stubborn, inflexible, and so beastly that I would act maliciously toward a small child merely for acting in his nature." He said the words casually, but she could see his jaw was clenched.

"I understand that all of the time I knew you, you were under great strain and acting under direct orders. But honestly, can you tell me anything in our history together that would suggest otherwise to me?"

He considered her silently, the muscle in his jaw ticcing erratically. Finally, he inclined his head and drawled, "fair point." She seemed somewhat relieved. The boy ran from the now empty toy box – every single toy had been removed and scattered on the ground around it; Severus cringed internally at the sight – and tugged at his mother's robes.

"Up, up, up," he chanted. Hermione looked down at him and her entire countenance changed. Her eyes softened, her lips curled into an indulgent smile. She brushed the boy's hair out of his eyes and it was tangibly obvious how much she loved the child. Watching them, Severus felt a part of himself soften. He wanted to find fault, any fault at all, in her choices and reasoning. But how could he? She was willing to take a job far below her education and ability, simply so that she could provide her son with the best care. Even her assessment of him, which he resented sharply, he could understand. The only version of him that she had ever known was the cruel Potions Master. He might speak glibly about being malicious to a child now, years later, but he knew that during his time as a spy, he had been unforgivably callous with children. None so small and innocent as her son, but even still. The fact that she was willing to reject a near perfect post for her situation, all to protect him, twisted Severus' stomach in a funny way.

Not that he understood why. She wasn't the first example of motherly devotion he'd ever seen. Lily had made the ultimate sacrifice for her son. Molly Weasley was practically a paragon of doting motherhood. But somehow, Hermione Granger, on her own and unwilling to compromise her son's care while searching desperately for a lifeline, moved him.

"I suggest," he drew her attention from her son, back to himself, "that we give each other the probationary period I specified in my advertisement. I will see if I can handle having your progeny running wild in my home, and you can watch to make sure I do not use the boy for potion parts. If we are both satisfied at the end of three months, we can re-discuss terms."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed slightly in consternation. She looked at first as if she would reject his offer. But something stalled her. He wondered vaguely what difficulties had led her to this spot in her life. She kissed the top of her son's head absentmindedly and studied Severus like an Arithmancy problem she couldn't quite solve. "Why should I take the risk of it not working out? I have far more at stake here than you."

"Do you really have any better options at this point?" he countered. Hermione thought of the double digit balance in her Gringotts account and winced. He had a point. Still, there were certain things she refused to compromise on.

"Fine. But the three months isn't a contract. If at any time I feel my son isn't being treated appropriately or isn't in a healthy emotional environment, I will leave so fast your head will spin."

"Is that how you display your Gryffindor gregariousness?" His question dripped sarcasm and she glared at him.

"I went on a bloody crusade for seven years to protect a friend. How much more do you think those protective instincts will apply to my only child?" The ferocity in her voice and in her eyes impressed him. He could only imagine what she would do to anyone who dared harm her son.

"I concede the point. No contract until after the probationary period." He held up his hand when she started to speak, silencing her next objection. "And if we do get to that time, then there will be a clause giving you immediate rights to leave in the event of any mistreatment of your son."

She could find no fault with that, so she nodded hesitantly. Surely there was something else she was missing. Why was he being so accommodating to her? Was it possible that underneath all the snark and sarcasm, he actually was a decent human being?

Hermione immediately felt ashamed of the thought. Of course he was a decent man. She knew from what Harry had seen in the pensieve, as well as the testimony of his actions during trial, that Snape was brilliant, loyal, and courageous. The only time she'd ever really known him had been during his time as a spy for the Order, when his every action had been observed and directed. That had been more than seven years ago. She knew she wasn't the same bushy haired know-it-all she'd been back then.

Still, it was hard to reconcile the man who'd been her teacher and tormentor for six years, with the man she realized he was after hearing the extent of his selflessness. And more so with the man who was now casually offering her the lifeline she so desperately needed.

Perhaps she needed to stop trying, and simply accept things as they came. Perhaps, if she didn't box him in as the dreaded potions professor, he wouldn't box her in as the insufferable swot she'd been when he'd known her.

"Shall we return to the estate? We can go on with the interview as planned, you can inspect the living quarters to make sure they are adequate for your needs, and we can discuss other terms."

"That sounds fine. I'll need to call my sitter to return, though. She left right before you arrived."

"Why?" Severus cocked one eyebrow lazily. "Bring your son with you. If I cannot stand an hour in his presence, then having him live in my home will be problematic, don't you think?"

"Er- I guess you're right." She turned to her son, still sitting on her lap. "Atty, can you go get mummy your trainers? We are going out for a while." The boy nodded, wiggled off her lap, and raced back to the bedroom with the blue bunny trailing along behind him.

"Atty?" Severus looked nonplussed.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if they were going to get off to the wrong foot so early in their new acquaintanceship. "Short for Atticus. It's from a book." She pursed her lips. "A muggle book." There. What would he have to say to that?

"To Kill a Mockingbird struck such a cord in you that you named your son after the main character?"

Hermione couldn't contain her surprise. "You've read it?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I am a scholar, Miss Granger. I read everything."

"I very much doubt that," she returned skeptically. He raised both brows and extended both hands as if asking her to take a shot at him. "Romance novels?"

"I cannot say that they are quite my taste, but I have read my share. Enough that I could probably guess your favorites in the genre."

She fought the urge to blush at him guessing her penchant for bodice rippers. Instead, she braced her hands on her hips. "Fanfiction?" she challenged. Severus smirked.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Try not to let your jaw hit the floor in your shock. I'm sure you're aware that most of Shakespeare's plays are technically fanfiction of other works. And before you clarify that you mean unpublished stories, let me assure you that I have read some of those as well. I consider myself a student of literature in all it's forms." He allowed himself a small hum of satisfaction at her continued shock. As if he hadn't ever been so swept up in fictional worlds that he craved more even when the book was done. "Now if you are done questioning me about my reading habits...?"

"Fine." Hermione found herself chuckling. She still couldn't get the image out of her head of Severus Snape bent over a computer in the dungeons reading fanfiction. "But you started it."

"Hardly, Miss Granger. All I did was admit that I knew what novel the name Atticus is from. A good, strong, Roman name, I might add. Atty, however, sounds like a house elf."

"Considering I've had dear friends who are house elves, I won't take it as the insult I'm sure you intended it to be." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a prim smile before turning to help Atticus put on his shoes. Once his little trainers were laced tight, she brushed his hair out of his eyes again – he really did need a haircut soon – and looked around for anything she might be forgetting. The pile of nappies in the corner gave her pause. She grabbed one and looked between Atticus and Severus. "Maybe I should put one on him before we go. He does very well with his potty training, but I don't imagine it would give a very good first impression if he wee'd on your floors during his first visit."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Surely as a mother, and as a woman taking a housekeeping position, you know the spell to remove urine from any surface?" When she nodded, he went on. "Then if you think the boy will be fine, leave it alone. You're never going to be able to relax if you continue thinking I am going to fly into a rage at the slightest accident."

"Well- yes, you're right. Come on, Atty, we're going for a ride." She settled him on her hip. "I know the rail doesn't run all the way to Presteigne, but I'm sure we can get a cab from there to the estate."

"The rail? It will take hours to reach the nearest station, not to mention the rest of the trek by auto."

"Yes, well you know Apparation isn't safe for children, and it's much too far to go by broom," she shuddered at the very thought. "So rail it is."

"Nonsense. Apparation is only unsafe for children who cannot control themselves, or if the adult isn't proficient enough."

"I'd rather not take the risk. Once, when we were on the run, I splinched Ron, and I've never quite forgiven myself for it. It's one of the few things I don't trust myself to do with him. Better safe than sorry."

"Surely you don't doubt my Apparition skills," he drawled. Hermione did a double take. Was he offering? More importantly, did she question his ability? It wasn't so much that she doubted him, more than it was not trusting him. Or anyone. Not with that. But then, he wasn't just anyone. He was likely the most powerful wizard alive after Harry – and maybe even ahead of him, if she was honest with herself – so surely that counted for something? After all, going by road and rail wouldn't protect them from train or auto accidents. And magic would only get her so far if she didn't see an accident coming. Wasn't Snape the safer choice, then? "Alright," she slowly nodded. "Atty, you're going to go for a little trip with Mister Sna- I mean, Severus. You must hold onto him very tight, and try not to move even a little tiny bit. You're not to let go for anything. Do you understand?"

The boy looked from his mother, to Severus, then back. Wide eyed, he nodded. Reluctantly, Hermione handed her son to Severus. Atticus looked so tiny against his chest that Hermione's heart clutched. "Hold on very, very tight, Atty. You won't let go of Severus?"

Atticus looked at the imposing wizard holding him. "Sev'us," he said solemnly.

"Indeed," Severus confirmed. The child clutched the lapels of his frock coat obediently and nodded at his mother. It felt... strange... to have such a small person in his arms. The boy didn't appear to be slight for his age, but he weighed next to nothing. Despite his absolute confidence in his skills, and his knowledge that it was totally unnecessary, Severus wrapped both arms around the child. "We will see you in a moment, then."

Hermione fought the urge to snatch Attics back to her chest. Wild panic welled up inside her and she fought it down. If Snape said they would be fine, then they would be fine. It was just Apparition. They would be fine. With a barely perceptible pop, Severus and her son disappeared. Hermione stifled a cry and Apparated after them. She landed more turbulently than she normally would if she hadn't been so worried, then looked around, searching-

Severus stood only a few feet away, Atticus still in his arms, looking not the least bit disconcerted, and not a single strand of his baby-fine hair out of place. Her breath left her in a rush. See? She scolded herself, nothing to worry about. Perhaps she needed to try and relax more. The last thing she wanted was to smother her son. If he hadn't learned about falling, he wouldn't have learned to stand. If he hadn't learned about tripping, he wouldn't have learned to run. But, oh, it was so hard to stand by when all she wanted to do was wrap him up in a bubble charm and protect him from every little hurt.

As soon as Severus set him down, Atticus ran towards Hermione with a grin. "Look mummy!" He pointed his chubby finger at the ceiling, then the door, then the wall, then shook his head and giggled.

"I see. What do you say, Atty?"

"Tank you Sev'us."

"A pleasure," he said with a slight inclination of his head. "Why don't we move from the entryway? Please, take a seat." He gestured them towards the chairs in the sitting room off to the left. Large windows let in the afternoon light. Funny, she hadn't seen windows here from the outside- But of course, they would be spelled for privacy. Very clever. She perched on an overstuffed chair and settled Atticus onto her lap, wondering how long it would be before he began to squirm and want down.

Severus swept his wand in a circle around the edges of the room, carefully excluding the glass front cabinets and the outlets that had been fitted for muggle electricity. "Caularum." With his barrier in place, he held out his hand for Atticus's bunny. "If I may," he asked politely. Atticus scowled and clutched the bunny closer to his chest. When Severus only waited patiently, Atticus eventually handed over his beloved toy. Severus pointed his wand at it. "Animaré," he commanded. Instantly, the bunny jumped up and began to dance around. Atticus screamed in delight and began to chase it around the room. "There. Now-" He stopped when he realized Miss Granger was staring at him in shock again. "I know that you aren't impressed by such minuscule displays of magic, so I can only assume you are surprised that I would deign to preform them?"

"No- I just-" Hermione consciously closed her mouth and gave a sheepish smile. "Yes, yes I was. You continue to destroy any perceptions I had of you. I am going to do my best to set aside any further judgments, and I'll ask you the same courtesy. Really, we barely know each other."

Severus looked from Hermione, to her son, still chasing the bunny that danced just out of his reach, and then back to her. "So it would seem." She flashed him a smile and folded her hands in her lap. So dignified, Severus thought to himself. He scowled at the errant thought and settled himself on the chair opposite hers. "Well then. Why don't we get the basics out of the way? How do you plan to handle the needs of the house as well as see to your son?"

"I will need to see how things go, of course, but I imagine that he will go with me as I complete various tasks. He can play as I'm focusing on bigger areas, and when I need to focus on smaller details, I have a carrier I can put him in on my back. Outside, we are far enough from any other people that I'm comfortable letting him run and play. I'll need to inspect the grounds and make sure there aren't any buried wells or cellars he could crawl into, and of course the gardens will be off limits until I know exactly what each plant is. He naps for two hours in the afternoon, and I have a monitoring charm on him for those, so any places that would be dangerous for a child to be in at all, like a lab, would be taken care of during that time."

"That sounds sufficient. Is it safe to assume that you are proficient in various forms of house witch magic?"

"I am. Though I will admit that I'll need to do some research on charms for the lawn and gardens. I've never worked with anything on such a large scale before."

Severus waved away her concern negligently. "The lawn can rot for all I care. There are no neighbors to complain, and I have no use for acres of immaculately cut grass. The gardens must be kept up, however. I cultivate most of my own potion ingredients from them. Not all the work there will be on you, as I do my own culling and planting. What will need most attention is the weeding and watering."

"Once I know what every plant needs and can discern the seedlings from the weeds, I don't see that those should be a problem."

"Well and good then. You are obviously capable of performing the duties. Onto other matters." He snapped his fingers and her letter and references appeared in his hand. "I noticed that among your references was not a former employer. Was that an intended exclusion?"

Hermione cringed. She knew he wasn't talking about the research paper that had kept her busy the last year, but her job in France. "I didn't leave my last employer on the best of terms," she admitted.

"Meaning?"

"I didn't give a fortnight notice for them to find my replacement."

"How much notice did you give?"

She cringed again. "None."

"How... disappointing." The way he drawled the words gave her a flashback to her school days. She felt as if she'd handed in an essay six inches too short. "Would you care to elaborate your reason why?"

"No." Hermione shook her head firmly. She was not discussing Paris.

"Then what assurance do I have that you will not repeat the performance?"

"You already told me that there would be a clause in our contract allowing me to leave without giving notice if-"

"If your son is mistreated in any way. Not willy-nilly because you get the urge to move on. I haven't the time or inclination to interview and hire a dozen candidates."

Hermione grit her teeth and tried to remind herself that not only did she need this job, but also, he wasn't being unreasonable. Any employer wanted assurances that someone they hired would have the decency to give notice before leaving. Employment contracts were very common. "The circumstances that led to my departure from my previous employer have no chance of being repeated. I can tell you with total confidence that I have no intention whatsoever of leaving without finishing any contract we agree upon, aside from for those reasons which we have already discussed."

"I suppose that will have to do, for now," he grudgingly agreed. His eyes were drawn once more to Atticus, who had caught his bunny and was now watching it jump from one little hand to the other. "How old is your son, Miss Granger?"

"He just turned two."

He did the mental math and realized she must have returned to England very soon after becoming pregnant. Had the pregnancy had something to do with her return? He hated unanswered questions. Perhaps it was a holdover from being a spy, but loose ends disquieted him. He went over in his head everything that Minerva had told him about Hermione's situation, and what little the woman herself had imparted. Then he decided to take a more Slytherin tack. "Will you be needing time off during the week for Atticus to have visitation with his father?"

"No, his father doesn't-" Hermione's mouth snapped shut. "No, I won't. Thank you." She berated herself for falling for such a simple trick. She narrowed her eyes at him and he offered a small smirk in return, unrepentant at being caught.

"Then will Saturday afternoon and Sunday be acceptable days off?" When Hermione nodded, Severus moved on. "As for your salary, I assume you find no fault with what the advertisement offered?"

"None."

"And you would like it directly deposited into your Gringotts account?"

"If you would."

"Certainly. An extra stipend will be allotted to you for groceries, both for the house as well as for yourself and your son. There is a market in the village, but you are welcome to shop any where you like. There will be a secondary sum set aside monthly for unforeseen expenses. A broken window, a linen that needs replaced, things of that nature. What is not spent should be cycled back into that fund, but you needn't feel it necessary to skimp and stretch. Use your common sense. Any expenses that are larger than what is available should be brought to me for approval."

Hermione nodded. "Very reasonable."

"Indeed. Shall we move on to the tour, then?"

"Sure. Atty?" She beckoned her son over. He ran to her, his bunny still wiggling in his grip, but slowly now that the charm was beginning to wear off. "Come on, baby. You want to walk, or want Mummy to carry you?"

"Walk!" he declared firmly.

"Okay, but you must stay in sight at all times and not touch anything without asking. Look at me, Atty." His eyes had wandered to Severus as he stood. "Did you hear me? No touching." Atticus looked back at his mother and grinned, showing off a row of pearly baby teeth.

"No touchy!" He stuffed the rabbit's foot in his mouth and followed them as they left the room. Severus pointed out the conservatory, great room, dining hall, kitchens, and library (which she itched to explore further), on the main floor. On the second, he pointed out the guest quarters and baths, and then stopped on the threshold of his own rooms.

"My quarters will not need regular cleaning. Once a month, the linens will need changed, but other than that, they are private." Hermione nodded, understanding. It was one thing to have someone clean the kitchen... it was another to have someone poking around where you slept. They climbed another set of stairs that led to the attic. The space wasn't grand, but it was airy, with exposed ceiling beams and large round windows to let in the light. There was a bedroom, sitting room, wash room, small study. "I presume you would like to turn the study into a bedroom for Atticus." When she nodded, he went on. "You are free to make any alterations in here that you see fit. There is a dumb waiter for bringing heavy supplies up if you don't feel inclined to levitate them up the stairs, which I suggest you put a strong warding spell on. It is large enough to fit the boy, and would take him all the way down the basement where my lab is, not to mention the risk of getting stuck."

Hermione shivered and looked at the innocuous little door as if it might open its maw and try to devour her son. She wasn't particularly frightened by closed in spaces, but the idea of her baby trapped inside there made her stomach turn. "Will you be bothered if I put wards on the stairs as well? They won't stop an adult from passing through them, but you'll feel a slight tug. He can climb up stairs brilliantly, but going down he still needs supervision."

"You are welcome to make any safety changes you see fit throughout the house. All I ask is that you let me know if there are going to be cupboards or cabinets that I can't open easily. I once had a very bad experience with a middle of the night trip to the loo and a seat that had been charmed not to lift except by the parents of the house." He curled his lip at the memory. Hermione fought off the giggle that rose, but couldn't suppress her smile. She could imagine him yanking on the lid uselessly a few times before blasting it open.

"Thank you. I will make sure not to lock you out of the facilities."

"Very good. Do the rooms seem up to your standards?"

"More than," she admitted, looking around. She had rather expected cramped, dilapidated servant's quarters in an estate this age. She was pleasantly surprised that the open, cozy space would be very much to her liking. "Do you like it, Atty?" He was hunkered down, looking under the desk in the study. When Hermione spoke, he stood up and banged his head against the desk ledge. There was a short pause, and then a wail filled the air. Hermione swept Atticus into her arms and rained kisses on the top of his head. "Shh, shh, it's alright. You're okay, love. Just a little bump, right?" He sniffed and let out another wail. "That's enough now, sweetheart. You're fine." She dropped more kisses on the top of his head until he began to giggle between sniffs. "See? All better." He gave one last sniff and then nodded.

"Aw betta," he agreed.

"Well, now that that's decided, are you formally accepting the job?"

"Are you formally offering it?" she countered. Severus let out a long-suffering sigh and prayed for patience. Gryffindors.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I am offering you the job. Three months probationary period, after which we will negotiate a contract."

"In that case, I accept wholeheartedly. You have my gratitude." She held out her right hand to him, keeping the left curled around Atticus as he perched on her hip. Severus grasped her hand and shook it. He fought to keep such asinine thoughts about how delicate her hand felt, how soft the skin was, from his mind. When he released her hand, Atticus held out his little hand to be shook as well. Smothering a smirk, Severus grasped the tiny, chubby fingers in his own and have a very serious handshake.

"When are you available to start?"

"Is the end of the week too soon? I'd love if I could be out of my flat by then."

"Not at all. The sooner the better. I'm fairly certain the bushes are in desperate need of a de-gnoming, and the only food in the kitchen is tea and toast."

"In that case, I can start packing tonight and have most of it finished up by tomorrow afternoon."

"Very good. I can meet you at your flat to help you transport any parcels that you don't want shrunk. Shall we say, three o'clock?"

"That should be perfect."

"I will see you both home, then." He held out his hands for Atticus and the boy willingly let himself be passed off. With a nod of approval from Hermione, he Apparated to her flat in Kittering. A moment after he landed, Hermione appeared. She looked anxious, but not nearly so much as she had when they'd arrived at the house. When Severus tried to pass Attics back, two little hands gripped the lapels of his frock coat and refused to let go. "Certainly not shy, is he?"

Hermione laughed. "No. Never has been. You'd think, with how little we see other people, he would be nervous around strangers. But he's happy to say hello to anyone. I imagine he'll have all the social grace that I never did." She tapped him on the shoulder and held out her arms. After a moment's thought, Atticus turned and went to his mother. "Thank you for everything, Pro- Severus. I can't tell you how much this is going to mean to us. I won't let you down."

"I am counting on that," he drawled. Then, after a quick bow of his head and an indulgent smirk at Atticus, he Disapparated.

Back at the estate, Severus brewed himself a cup of strong tea. His reserves were getting alarmingly low, but he reasoned that Miss Granger would be providing him with more in the very near future. Now that he'd had a chance to spend some time with her again, and her son, he wondered if he'd made the right decision by hiring her.

Not that he thought she would be unable to do the job. It was work for house elves, not for the brightest witch of her age. And not because he thought she would up and leave one day for no reason. Whatever troubles had caused her to abandon her former post, he had no doubt they were beyond her control. Besides, now that she was under his roof, whatever woes assailed her, he would be there to- Wait. What a peculiar thought. He wasn't her keeper. She was a grown woman with a child. He realized that old feelings of responsibility were flaring anew and he thoroughly doused them. As his employee, he would do what was within reasonable measures to make sure she was content and provided for, but whatever problems she had – as long as they didn't affect her work – were her own.

No, the reason he was questioning his decision was that she was Hermione Granger. With that came a mountain of shared (mostly unpleasant) history. He could admit that he'd been cruel to her. Part of it was that he could give no sign, not even a whisper, that he approved of a muggle-born student. She could get no partial treatment; indeed, it needed to be obvious that he disdained her and all she represented. Then, because of her close relationship with Potter, his disdain for her had to double. In total honesty, not all of it had been an act. During the war, he had been under more strain than any one man could carry. His every move was studied, scrutinized, analyzed, both by the Dark Lord and by the Order. One step in the wrong direction would have led to his immediate death, and the ultimate ruin of all Dumbledore's plans. Not to mention that he had never been cut out for teaching. It wasn't that he wasn't good at his job. On the contrary, he excelled at it. But he took no pleasure in the work, and the tedium of trying to impart the same information to a new batch of ungrateful children year after year ate at him. He preferred the exhilaration of research. Experimentation, discovery. The keen reward of a potion well brewed.

The only version she knew of him was the unhappy man stretched beyond his capabilities and pretending to be a cold-hearted killer.

As for her, despite knowing they were usually acting with Albus's indirect approval, she and her friends had been nothing but trouble for him from the moment they stepped into the castle. More than once he'd had to risk his life to protect them. He'd resented that so much back then. Not that he wasn't willing to die to save them. But they took so many needless risks, blundered around following half-clues and insinuation. The position they had all been placed in was insufferable. And perhaps worst, the cause of all of it was the man who's robe he had to kiss. Who he was forced to prostrate himself to on bended knee. It had taken all of his control to treat the Dark Lord with respect and reverence when all he wanted to do was destroy the monster.

It would have been easy to shift the blame of his situation onto Dumbledore. When he'd first gone to the headmaster to plead for Lily's life, he'd felt nothing but gratitude to the man for trying to save her. In the years between, Dumbledore had been his defender and confidant. But during the second war, as he had begun to see the threads of control on which they all danced, resentment mounted. It reached a head when the old man asked Severus to kill him. Because Draco's soul was worth more than his? Because it was necessary for the all important plan that Severus have the Dark Lord's unwavering trust? He found that he no longer cared for the reasons. He was tired of each morally ambiguous act being attributed to the 'greater good.'

And perhaps he would have carried those resentments to his grave, had it not been for his time as headmaster. Being placed at Hogwarts after Dumbledore's death had given him a whole new understanding of what his mentor had gone through. There had been atrocities going on under his nose that he'd had to approve of. Innocent children beaten bloody, scarred for life. But if he were to interfere, he would have given away his true alliances and jeopardized the war. He had sacrificed those children's safety just as Dumbledore had been willing to sacrifice Severus's soul and Harry's life.

After the war, Severus had simply been weary. He was tired of life, tired of pretending to be someone he was not, tired of working to please others. After the trials, he'd withdrawn from society as a whole. All that had been left of him was fragments of guilt, flashes of resentment, and a tidal wave of anger with no outlet. It had taken him years to work through his issues. Years before he'd come to terms with his juvenile, unrequited love for Lily Evans and the guilt he felt for her death. Before he'd been able to let go of old grudges and accept people for who they were, not who they'd been or who their parents were. Before the cruelty that had become like armor had finally slipped away.

Now, he was made up of the broken pieces that had been left behind. He was intelligent, voracious in his thirst for knowledge, sarcastic, stubborn, quick to anger, quick to indulge, and perhaps more than anything... lonely.

He had been living by himself in his huge, empty house for years. Much longer and he would have begun talking to the spoons. The solitude which he had so craved, which had facilitated his healing after the war, had become oppressive. For the first time since his childhood, he longed for companionship. But it wasn't as though he could go down to the pub and make a friend. Much like Darcy, he did not possess the talent of conversing easily with those he had never met. He abhorred small talk and idle chatter. He knew himself to be a harsh critic, and to have a scornful countenance.

So what were his options, then? Resign himself to his life of solitude with only his spoons for company? Or hire a manager for the house. He'd always been shite at running the estate – the state of the bushes and the larder were evidence enough of that – and it was a responsibility he would gladly be rid of. So if that manager happened to be live-in, and if they happened to provide some companionship for Severus, no matter how small, who was he to complain?

Was it possible that Hermione Granger could really be that person, though? He'd known from the beginning that there was a large possibility that the candidate he hired would be female. Though traditionally English households were run by men, the task had fallen more and more to women, and on that respect he had no preference one way or the other. He'd also known that the person he hired would likely be far younger than himself. A witch or wizard getting on in years would hardly want to take on such a demanding position. So neither her age nor her sex gave him any pause. Even the fact that she had a child, though wholly unexpected, was not what left him uneasy.

It was just that thread of history that combined them. She knew things about him he would rather keep buried. Had seen sides of him that he wanted to keep in the past. And if her earlier dismissal of his personality, and his subsequent reaction, were any indication, she could rile him up just as easily as she had years ago. But, what was done, was done. He'd hired her, and now they were going to spend the next three months deciding if they could stand to be near each other. She had said before that she would try and let go of any old prejudices and asked that he do the same. Surely that was a good start? Either way, he knew at least it would never be boring.