"I nothing had, and yet enough for youth-Joy in Illusion, ardent thirst for Truth. Give unrestrained, the old emotion, The bliss that touched the verge of pain, The strength of Hate, Love's deep devotion,-O, give me back my youth again!"
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: First Part

"I see my discourse leaves you cold;
Dear kids, I do not take offense;
Recall: the Devil, he is old,
Grow old yourselves, and he'll make sense!"
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust

"I remember your Gryffindor escapades well Granger, and it seems nothing has changed. What do you think you're doing, challenging the entirety of the Ministry while on the run? You do realise that they have you for the destruction of property and possession of classified Hospital documents; What do you hope to achieve?"

The question was delivered with derision dripping off each incriminating word.

Hermione would not be bullied by this man any longer. She sat up a little straighter and managed a brilliant smile as she watched their waiter move about the surrounding cafe tables, holding two dishes aloft. Before he reached earshot, Hermione took relish in having the final word.

"A lot. So I'm sure you'll understand when I refuse your offer Severus."

The gentleman arrived, and placed their selections on the table with a flourish while steam rolled over the edges of the plates. He stepped back to observe the diners for a moment gifting Hermione with a genuine smile that faltered as Severus began dispensing salt furiously upon the snails she had ordered them. The waiter left with a scandalised expression and Hermione smiled as she shifted a bowl of onion soup towards her.

She was not afraid of him any longer and she would not pull him in to the mess she had created if that's what he felt about it.

As she ate, she made a point of studiously ignoring him, turning instead to read through the notes he had returned, now well creased. Unfolding the now well-handled papers, Hermione was immediately drawn to the spiky scrawl of text that unfolded over her research in a flurry of questions.

He had even made suggestions. Flicking quickly through the pages, she realised he had covered every last inch of the parchment with notations.

She looked up at him finally, and was further shocked by the small smirk that played about his lips.

This was not just her research. There at the bottom of the final page lay a list of references and asides, most notably a few observations of George's memory orbs, and suggested ingredients for the modification of the potion before final patent.

"You've contacted George. How is he?"

Hermione knew that her voice was clipped and her anger evident, even as she recognised the twisted justice of it all, after her publication and patenting of his research. She had put his name on her work, and now he was repaying the favour.

"I believe he's as busy as ever. Beyond that, I have no idea I'm afraid."

His reply was curt and he allowed the table to blanket with silence as he viciously scraped a snail from its shell.

Was this really so awful? She had her research back. So what if his name was now attached to it? Except what was he doing with the Malfoys and why had he made it his business to interfere in hers? His derision of the magical law could be no more than his standard snarling Bastard routine. If he knew about her unsavoury position within the law, what did he mean by offering her an apprenticeship? Or did he mean to take advantage of her misfortune in order to fulfill his own gains.

What did Severus Snape want?

The distrust niggled through her brain, and Hermione started slightly as Rita Skeeters voice rang through her thoughts once more.

Hermione Granger ensnares the senses of Hogwarts most infamous headmaster.

"Does this offer of an apprenticeship expire?"

She had almost called him Severus once more, but seemed to stall as he looked up at her rapidly.

She avoided his gaze. The black eyes seemed less dull than she remembered.

"I am not known to be a patient man Miss Granger. You said your contract with Miss Skeeter was for three months."

"Yes. I thoroughly expect to be arrested within that period. The contract should elapse within the timeframe nicely."

Severus was undone as the girl's casual tone settled between them. Gone was the woman and instead, deep beneath his shields, memories of Dumbledore stirred before him, draining goblet after goblet while remarking on the time line approaching his imminent death. Hermione Granger sat before him eating soup. His features drew themselves into a scowl as he tampered down on the images, and his words slipped through as though it was the old headmaster sat in front of him.

"Ah, the distinguished heights of Hermione Granger's academic career. Researching the effects of Caligula while on the run, then a stint spent languishing within Azkaban. I look forward to your upcoming article; it might be quite the spectacle among your future cellmates. Perhaps you might owl me when you're not otherwise engaged."

His tone could not possibly be more droll, and Hermione tried vehemently to ignore the crackle of her hair as a blush swarmed her face. Was that a joke? Their last meeting swarmed violently in her mind, the overgrown lawn of the burrow, long shadows as the doorway framed Molly and her former professor witnessing Ron's failed proposal.

"That's rather the point isn't it? To avoid being engaged whatsoever."

Severus surveyed the witch before him and the waters she was dragging him into.

For a moment, he remembered the dinner parties Narcissa had continued to invite him to long after any of the painted witches had stopped paying him notice. The ladies had radiated a haughty anger not unlike the one surely cracking from the witch now, as her hair stood upright and her eyes glittered with challenge. Most had paid little attention to the man shackled to his books and his school master, living in his dungeon. That hadn't stopped the crackle of awareness in the room and the exchange of heated gazes amidst the stuffy, drivel of conversation.

"Besides, what assurances do I have that you would actually answer this time? What if Draco and his mummy didn't approve" She shot it back seemingly without thought and Severus took in the planes of her neck as they strained, finally revealed to the world without that bushy wad of hair.

She was magnificent.

He kept his face neutral, and while a stony silenced settled on the table between them, he reached into the pocket of his cloak and retrieved his battered sixth year textbook.

His tone was measured, and the words attempted to return to his earlier, reserved tone.

"So long as you don't waste my time, I could contemplate a correspondence Miss Granger. Perhaps you could tell me your thoughts on this editions mention of Caligula."

Hermione glanced from the book to the man before her and she couldn't tell if this was an apology or a veiled mocking reference to her attempts months ago to befriend the man. She ploughed on regardless, still furious and unsettled.

"Waste your time?"

"How else would you describe your exploits; scampering around Europe, pandering to the magical press." The words dripped with his trademark derision. "How deplorably Gryffindor of you, becoming a martyr when you could just as easily put that supposed vaunted intellect to actual use and simply wait for the law to be repealed, as it inevitably will be."

All Hermione's resolve to ignore him, to keep calm, to remember that he'd just offered to initiate a correspondence, met the dull of anger clouding her brain and dissolved into a haze. Her hair all but sparked.

"Right, because the Ministry is capable of sorting out right from wrong of it's own volition and will suddenly come to its senses."

"What could you possibly hope to achieve in three months?"

Hermione looked at him stonily across the table and for once the words would not come out. Hermione Granger stood silent in front of her former professor and a well of knowledge sat in her brain. What could she hope to achieve? Everything. She'd be arranging a real estate venture in Diagon-fucking-Alley. She would be writing three articles, one for the Quibbler, one for Witch Weekly, one for the Prophet. She'd be attempting to find a contact within the French medical community and attempting to comport herself within deep pureblood circles. She'd be contacting Percy, Ginny, Victor Krum and Professor McGonagall. She'd be coordinating her legal case with Kingsley and Harry and she'd be determining when to release such varied and delicate information while on the run in a magical tent in Paris.

He didn't need to know any of that.

She wasn't getting him involved and she didn't need his approval anymore.

She still had questions and somewhere along the line their conversation had become a trade of information amidst barbs, a sparring of offers and refusals. But he was still sitting here, even under the knowledge Rita Skeeter would be examining his every inflection. He was sitting here and he had returned her research. He continued to stare at her and as the seconds slipped by Hermione noticed a hardening around his eyes, as the smirk that had played around his lips lapsed into a stony expression. He truly looked unwell and the deep bags that lined his eyes spoke of an unrest that stood out given he was supposedly 'free' for the first time in over twenty years. How could he talk of her being 'holed up' when he hadn't managed to read his mail for months at a time?

"I'm going to be researching Caligula."

It was hardly a trade of information, he knew as much already, and Hermione delivered the line with the sullen tone, waiting for the barb that would slip from his tongue.

"Have you access to a lab then? Or will you be brewing from the floor of a lavatory once more."

And there it was.

"My initial research is theoretically based, however-"

"There have never been evidence based theory of the plant published history."

"There's a work in the Hogwarts library, 'The purity of their sex-"

Hermione glared at Severus as he emitted a further scoff.

"Do you know the history behind that text Miss Granger, or are you still possessed by the idea that all knowledge can be found in the pages of a book?"

Severus stiffened as Hermione shifted angrily at the table, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes as a well of emotion surged to the surface. The girl was shaky, and her breathing seemed struggled.

"I know of the history."

Severus made no comment, but pressed on with another question "What actual real world research have you arranged?"

Hermione bristled and refused to admit to the volatile man before her that she'd failed and she had no hope of getting the medical research unit of le établissement guérir to listen to her in the next few days.

"There's another wizard, Strougler, who's referenced as the sole researcher to examine the plant in the last two centuries. No one has ever produced his original documents but people must still remember. "

"Granger, Grindlewald had his entire village burnt. The muggles don't remember anything and anyone else associated is dead. Tell me, would you go door knocking, or would you walk about selling badges. Why not pin a sign on your back saying 'Mud blood who helped murder the Dark Lord' while you're at it? Do you realise, at all, the risk you are in? You are not locked up in Hogwarts anymore and this isn't a silly little game where you face detention, or worse, expulsion.

"Yes, Professor." Her eyes held a steely fire that seemed to consume the light and defy the tears now pooling above her lashes. "I at least am aware that we're no longer in Hogwarts."

Severus scowled down at the 'Lies and life of Albus Dumbledore' and he knew his anger at the woman before him was irrational. He knew his frustrations would have to be put aside and still she egged him on, until now she glared at him across the table, and undeniably hurt look on her face.

The air seemed to grip him about the throat, his voice scratchy from the last drawled remark and his leg quietly shaking beneath the table. His nerves were frayed and there was a panic as he realised he would need to take another dose to stem the damage, and it remained two long distance trips away. She had invited him out to dinner, talked to him like an equal and now she sat as through stricken because he'd been the bastard he truly was. Hermione shoved the chair out from beneath her and swept her bag over her shoulder. She grabbed past him and furiously collected the notes he had returned.

He sat there stiffly, staring at her as a tremor ran through his limbs. "Miss-"

No.

He supposed she wasn't Miss Granger anymore and the words floundered in his throat as she touched the old potions textbook before looking Severus dead in the eyes.

There was a hurt there and it seemed to whisper the disappointed phrase, 'quite personable'.

She left the book on the table, and walked away.

n