CHAPTER THREE

Madam Eve

Severus jolted to a stop when he realized that Granger was no longer at his side. She stood a few paces back, under the shade of a large oak tree. The expression on her face was too complicated for him to read, though to be perfectly fair, the delicate nuances of female emotion often befuddled him under any circumstance.

Severus backtracked, gathering that he was expected to do so.

"I don't understand," she said at last.

Severus shifted the flower in his arms, grateful they were in the shade but annoyed that they were having this conversation now, out here on the street. Could she not have waited two more blocks?

"She is a former classmate of mine from the Academy," he explained placidly. "She has a respectable, if slightly… ostentatious reputation. I heard that she has been searching for an apprentice and the timing seemed opportune."

Severus watched for a flicker of anything on her face that he might find familiar. Anger, mistrust, apprehension. He could not tell, maybe it was all of those things. Or none of them.

"I have arranged an appointment," he continued when she did not immediately reply, "for you to meet with her this afternoon. She will want to examine you, of course, but we both know you are more than skilled enough to exceed qualifications. You may decline, by all means, but finding a worthy Master to apprentice is a painstaking business and will ruin your career if handled improperly."

Granger furrowed her eyebrows, chewing delicately on her bottom lip. Severus tried but failed to refrain from letting his eyes wander. Damn her. She was the most alluring thing he had ever seen. Their time apart only seemed to have increased her attraction. He hadn't expected it at all, to be as struck as he was that first moment he entered the cafe this morning, like a knockback jinx straight to the chest. He had felt momentarily stupified.

As the day went on, he kept waiting for the dazement to dissipate but it wouldn't. He felt intoxicated by the sight of her, his head swimming with her nearness, the perspiration on her neck, her waist in that tight dress, the feeling of gentleness when her hand had grasped his.

It helped if he didn't look directly at her. He could momentarily push his weak impulses aside. But, every time he turned around, there she was. Just there. After so many months, he had thought…

When her letters had been so short, her anger with him clearly evident, he had steeled himself to the possibility that their affair might prove as tenuous as he feared.

He did what he could to protect himself, replying to her letters with brevity and indifference. That was just his way. The very idea of her affections for him had always been difficult to imprint with any real permanence. Even when they were at the height of their closeness, there had always been an anxiety that gripped him that he did not like. He felt at the mercy of his own insecurities, like a mooning adolescent.

When he finally worked up the nerve to extend his offer to her this summer, a place to stay, the commencement of their promised pursuit, he endeavored to keep his formality, the cloak of chill aloofness hopefully armoring him against her possible rejection.

Because despite their previous agreement, despite her final affirmative letter, he still hadn't believed she would really come in the end.

And yet.

Here she was…

Hermione's mind momentarily retreated into a confused static. "You don't want me to apprentice with you?" she asked.

Severus frowned, apparently unaware or unconcerned that he had just casually shattered her expectations to dust.

"Certainly not," he said simply.

"Why?"

"Because, there is a blatant power imbalance that I refuse to exploit. However unknowing or unintentional it might be."

Hermione could feel herself charging up, getting ready to fight tooth and nail against whatever nonsensical complications he'd newly unearthed. "If you're concerned about imposing unwelcome assignments on me," she began, "or ordering me about unfairly, I think I am perfectly capable of defending myself. We both know I won't suffer your meanness and you won't suffer my so called tantrums. As long as we make efforts to communicate—"

Severus raised his hand impatiently. "Consider this very simple fact, Miss Granger. If your…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "...inclinations towards me were to change. For whatever reason, if we were to argue or disagree, if it became unmendable, you must not be trapped, do you understand? You must have somewhere to go. Both of us must always feel that we are free to do as we wish without consequence. That is, professional consequence."

Hermione felt a wave of realization take her over as she finally understood his intentions. He wasn't trying to push her away or shove her off on someone else, not out of malice or selfish intent. In fact, he was expressing possibly one of the most touching displays of concern she had seen from him.

The brutal disappointment of not learning at his side was a jolt, to be sure. That perfect image she'd had in her mind, of thriving under his expert and sometimes volatile, wildly challenging tutelage, would be difficult to let fade.

After all, he was all she knew. A familiar and trusted presence, brilliant, admired. She had been learning potions from him for her entire academic career and she had, purposefully or not, molded herself to his methods, learned how to balance and react to all of his various and temperamental requirements.

But, he was right. He was very right.

She felt foolish for not having seen it herself.

Hermione took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to control her automatic impulse to resist his logic anyway, a deeply rooted part of her still wanting to find another excuse, another method to make it work. She stood in thoughtful silence for a long time.

Just when Severus was starting to get fidgety, Hermione said, "I take issue with the phrase 'inclinations towards me,' but your point is very well made and… you're right. You have thoughtfully solved a challenge that I hadn't considered."

She struggled, then, to find a way to tell him how much she appreciated his care, that he had spent time and effort thinking of her not just in present tense but future tense, that he had looked ahead and made plans to protect them both if something between them should fail.

Fail… It was this idea of failure that made her struggle to find her next words. She felt flustered and tongue tied. It hurt to acknowledge a plan tailored specifically to their "unmendable" breaking.

She hated that he had spent time thinking about it. Maybe even expecting it.

But, she knew that he had been practical in doing so.

At last, Hermione just said, "Thank you," as deeply and meaningfully as she could. The sincerity mattered more than the words, she figured. And, honestly, knowing him, he probably appreciated the brevity.

Severus's frown eased at her concession, the tension in his shoulders relaxing almost immediately.

Still, he seemed wary. "What is your issue?" he asked.

"With what?"

"Inclinations, you said, that phrase."

Because it is a pitiful description of our love for each other, Hermione thought. Though she didn't say so. It was far too soon. "A discussion for another time," she said lightly.

Thankfully, he didn't push the matter.

Severus straightened his back, shifting the flower more comfortably in the crook of his arm. "In that case, if we are quite finished, I believe I mention the fragile nature of—"

"Yes, yes," she said with a soft smile, "your mysterious potion, it wails from neglect. I won't keep us any longer, lead on."

Two blocks later, Severus led her up the front steps of a charming, two story flat. It was built in rose colored brick and covered on one side in a netting of bright, twining ivy.

Once inside the door, she saw to her right a step down into a small sitting room with sofa and chairs, a fireplace, and a sturdy work desk against a set of windows that looked onto the street.

To her left, a tiny breakfast nook with a round table tucked against a set of bay windows that, even from where she stood, she could see boasted a lovely view of the garden window boxes that were currently flourishing in sprigs of lavender and various herbs. Adjoining the nook was a small kitchen, most of which was obscured from where she stood.

Severus watched her assessing her surroundings.

"Through that door," he gestured to a closed door that led off the sitting room, "is the first bedroom and washroom, as well as a closet I have mostly converted to potions stores. Upstairs is the second bedroom, another washroom, along with a small study." The look he gave her was an interesting one. He seemed, however very faintly, however desperately hidden, to be searching for her approval. "It is modest," he said.

"It's perfect," she breathed. She meant it.

"I've been retiring on the first floor out of convenience but you are more than welcome to your choice of room. I do not have a preference."

"I'm sure upstairs will be fine."

Hermione followed closely at Severus's back as he led her upstairs and down a short hallway to her room.

The room was simple and rustic, but also pleasantly serene. The walls were a faded dark blue and a small window looked out onto the back garden.

Hermione set her satchel down carefully on an armchair in the corner.

Severus stood in the doorway, pausing on the threshold. "Then…" he said, "You are amenable to the apprenticeship?"

Hermione pulled a tendril of hair away from her face and attempted to resecure into her high bun. "I guess I'll have to decide after I meet her, but I trust your judgment. Who is she?"

Severus watched her smooth her hair with apparent fascination. "Her name is Eventide Lamont."

"Interesting name."

"She is an interesting woman."

The inflection in Severus's voice was enigmatic to say the least. Hermione could not tell one way or the other what he meant by interesting. It was almost a neutral statement of fact, without opinion, without bias.

Hermione was all the more intrigued.

"I have obligations to attend," Severus said abruptly. "The appointment with Lamont is set for this afternoon so take whatever time you need to arrange your things. Of course, any books you find in the house are at your disposal, though even if they weren't, I doubt your meddling would go undeterred. Speaking of which, when you inevitably do go nosing about, try not to disturb my work in the study. It is temperamental, sensitive to light, and will be ruined if bothered prematurely. I will collect you when it is time to depart."

With that, Severus closed the door and was gone.

Hermione sighed. New clothes, same man, she thought, and ornery as ever.

As she methodically began to pull her belongings out of her satchel and resize them to their proper proportions with her wand, she thought about where to start with the Largitio research. Severus had not mentioned it once. But, there was plenty of time to pursue it and she realized that her potions work, if this was indeed a clandestine opportunity, was a bit more immediate. Research could wait a few more days.

And she did have a head start. She had spent some time making inquiries during the last several months, following a few suggestions from Dumbledore who knew, as he had put it, "only of rumors and nothing of facts."

After many unanswered letters, many more strange conversations, she managed to maintain two active correspondences that held promise. One was in Sitka, Alaska, and the other on the Atlantic coast, in Caraquet, Canada. Neither of her correspondences had experienced or witnessed Largitio first hand, but they both offered resources well worth investigating. She thought her lead in Alaska might prove their best place to start, though she was interested to know what Severus thought once she had it all laid out for him.

And who knew what he had discovered on his own. She was curious to see if he had spent time looking.

She was curious about a lot of things. How he had spent his time these past months, whom he had met, (if anyone), and what this new life was that he intended on building for himself.

Her room seemed pretty sparse of any personal effects. She knew that this house had belonged to Severus's Aunt (whom, as she understood it, Severus had been estranged from), so there was a high likelihood that most of the furnishings and adornments might not belong to Severus. Though, no one could hide themselves in their own home, not for long, their own personal touches were sure to peek through. She couldn't wait to sleuth them out.

Because he was right, of course. She had every intention of nosing about.

I suppose I'm guilty, too, she thought with amusement. New clothes, same me, and meddlesome as ever.

Honestly. It was nice to know that some things would never change.

Later that afternoon, Severus brought Hermione to an intersection deep in Ealing, a residential borough outside London, and paused near a crosswalk. As the light turned green, Hermione made as though to cross but Severus put a hand on her upper arm and stopped her.

Startled, Hermione turned. "What is it?"

"Lamont's estate is just across the street and three houses down. On the left, do you see it?"

Severus's hand still lingered on Hermione's arm. She tried not to be thoroughly distracted by this. "Yes," she replied once she caught sight of the house, "I suppose it stands out, doesn't it?"

A tall, gothic building with ornate windows squeezed in beside two relatively ordinary looking shops. Black brick with gold trimming, three stories high. Each window had a garden box of overgrown greenery, dangling vines and flowers of a deep, luxurious mauve.

A sign hung outside the front gate:

HEMLOCK HOUSE

Hireable for hauntings, maladies,
blessings, blights, bewitchments,
tinctures, tonics, antidotes,
and assorted curiosities

Hermione read the sign with interest, startled to see such an obvious display in a relatively mundane neighborhood.

Severus seemed to immediately register her confusion.

"Of course, it appears differently to Muggles. They see an abandoned property, boarded up windows, a padlocked door, that sort of thing."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, of course."

Finally, Severus's grip on her arm loosened. She felt oddly bereft as his hand fell away.

"I will meet you here afterwards," he said. "I imagine you won't be more than an hour or so."

Hermione looked at him sharply, taken aback. "You're not coming in?"

"No." Severus appeared immediately uncomfortable. In fact, more uncomfortable than Hermione had seen him in a long time. His cheeks flushed and his hands fidgeted at his sides. "It is… part of the arrangement." He shifted on his feet, clearing his throat. "You may come and go as you wish, but she must never see me. That is what we agreed."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "That's weird."

Severus's face was unreadable. "We did not part well."

After a moment, Hermione let it go. He clearly didn't want to discuss it and she knew better than to attack him outright. Her subterfuge would have to be more tactful. "Alright, then," she said slowly. "No further questions." She threw him a side-eyed look. "For now."

Severus's expression remained placid and non responsive.

"I suppose I'll see you after," Hermione said.

Severus nodded.

As Hermione crossed the street, she dared one brief, backwards glance over her shoulder. Severus now sat on a bench near the intersection, a book in his hands, reading patiently. She felt another surge of tenderness for him. His long legs crossed casually, dark eyes intent, everything about him the same as he had always been and yet so different. She wanted to kiss him. But she wanted him to be ready for it, and as far as she could tell, he was still struggling with his own expressions of intimacy. It would take some time.

Hermione made her way down the sidewalk, approaching the so-called "Hemlock House." Time enough, they had. But, first, this Eventide Lamont. What dazzling enigmas did she have to offer?

After three sturdy knocks on the front door, Hermione was startled to find the petite figure of a house elf greeting her.

She was so shocked that she fell wordless for a minute before she finally stuttered out, "H-Hermione Granger. To see Eventide Lamont." Then, she couldn't help herself. "Do you work for her?"

The house elf was wearing a simple black dress with short sleeves and delicate black lacing along the hem.

"Good afternoon," the elf said in a surprisingly saccharine voice. "This house elf's name is Tiptoe and she is indeed in the employ of Mistress Eve." Tiptoe folded her hands demurely in front of her as she spoke. "Tiptoe has also been encouraged to tell this guest of Hemlock House that Tiptoe owns her own clothing and is paid a generous wage. She does not work weekends and receives two weeks of personal time every year to travel and spend as she pleases." Without waiting for Hermione to respond, Tiptoe waved her tiny hand and ushered Hermione inside. "If this guest of Hemlock House will please follow Tiptoe, she will escort her upstairs to meet with Mistress Eve."

Hermione was too stunned to do anything but obey. She followed quietly behind Tiptoe's delicate form, noticing the very clean and tidy care that she had apparently taken with her garment. In addition to the lacework on the hem, the dress also had a small, satin bow on the back that had been very neatly tied and pressed.

The entryway of Hemlock House was long and elliptical, extending the full length of the building, with an open ceiling that reached all the way to the second floor rafters. An interior balcony encircled the hall along the second floor, offering a view of the first floor from above.

Hermione noticed the entryway had many opened doors along the way and she tried to take in the various rooms as they passed.

One looked like a scrying room, an almost theatrically mystical aesthetic with lush draperies, candles, rose-colored lighting, in the middle of which sat a round table covered in a velvet cloth and an ornate crystal ball.

Another room appeared to be the main store front, an apothecary shop much like others she had seen before, shelves and display tables lined with various bottles, tonics, and herbs for sale.

Another room was a dining room of some kind, very posh and tastefully furnished. And the final room seemed to be an old fashioned parlor, with card tables and chaise lounges, the sort of drawing room that Hermione often thought of whenever she read classic books from centuries ago, Jane Austen novels and Chekhov plays.

At the end of the entry hall, they came to a wide spiral staircase which led to the second floor.

Hermione followed Tiptoe along the second floor balcony as they looped back towards the front of the house. All the doorways up here were closed except for one at the very end, where they were obviously headed.

Hermione cleared her throat as they walked, wanting to at least say something friendly. "Tiptoe," she said, "that's such a lovely name."

Tiptoe kept her gaze focused ahead, barely acknowledging Hermione in her reply. "Tiptoe supposes so," she said. Her walk was not especially unique, Hermione thought. No tiptoe, no bouncing. Just heel to front like most. Very interesting. There is a story there, she thought.

They arrived at the room at the end of the hall, whereupon Tiptoe stopped and gestured for Hermione to enter.

Hermione did so and nearly gasped at the sight that greeted her. It was a potions laboratory, like many she had seen before, but one with an extraordinary amount of workspace. Chopping stations, grinding stations, tiered ingredients brackets, cauldrons dotted here and there, some simmering, others cooly inert, expectantly awaiting their next project. The ceiling was slanted to conform to the roof, with exposed wooden beams, sturdy and knotted, lined with blooming flowers and hanging bundles of dried herbs, chicken legs, amphibious bones, dangling baskets of ashwinder eggs and exotic fruits, glumbumble bees and roving hordes of lacewing flies. The real showstopper of it all was the window: One side of the room was entirely consumed by an enormous floor to ceiling gothic style window. The glass was not colored, but still cut and arranged like stained glass, depicting in its full opaque glory, a magnificent Thestrel in flight.

Because the room was so distracting, it took a moment for Hermione to focus on the woman who awaited her.

Then she saw her.

Mistress Eve, as Tiptoe had called her, stood beside a desk from which she had apparently been recently working. She was, Hermione thought, a woman of almost Victorian refinement. She was not what one would call ravishing but she was darkly glamorous, still. Even in this first moment, Hermione could sense her airs of intelligence, her sharp-minded prowess.

Pale green eyes met Hermione's brown. A cutting gaze. No nonsense, all order.

Eve's hair was a dark and lustrous brunette, partially pinned up while the rest fell in tidy elegance over one shoulder. Her witch's robes were forest green and well fitted, very strict, with her neckline buttoned up past her collar bone, but, somehow tailored so well the look was almost sensual, cat like, flagrantly feminine.

"Miss Granger," Eve said, giving a gentle nod of welcome.

Hermione resisted the weirdly intrusive impulse to curtsy. "Miss Lamont," she replied, striding forward with her hand held out, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

Eve took Hermione's hand with almost barely restrained distaste. Hermione had the impression that she had broken some kind of unspoken etiquette.

Eve looked Hermione up and down, making Hermione blush. "You will address me as Madam, or Madam Eve," she said coldly.

Hermione shifted. "Um. I guess you can call me Hermione."

"Miss Granger will do for now."

Hermione gave a shrug. Honestly, such things mattered little to her.

"We will begin with a test," Eve said, gesturing to the nearest potions station. "Prove that your skills are adequate to this task and we may proceed."

The potions station had clearly been prepped and cleaned for a project, though there was little indication of what project was intended. There were no ingredients set out, only an empty set of measuring cups, a brass scale, and a single piece of parchment.

"You will find instructions have been provided," Eve said, "however no other direction will be given. You must recognize the ingredients mentioned, find them by sight within this room, and be able to translate any shorthand for professional techniques as listed."

Hermione would have taken offense at Eve's brusk and commanding attitude, but there was an automated part of her student brain that took over before she could register any other emotion. She really did love tasks. And, honestly, being ordered about in an academic setting was quite a familiar feeling. It tingled all of the subservient teacher's pet parts of her mind, she couldn't help but want to perform.

Hermione approached the workstation contemplatively, picking up the parchment and looking it over. The name of the potion was not given, only the steps listed. Something itched at the back of Hermione's brain as she read, but she couldn't place whatever it was. She knew that she recognized this potion. She couldn't remember from where or what it would do, all she knew was that she could make it.

She studied the first few steps for several full minutes before nodding, putting down her satchel, pulling out her wand, and commencing her work.

The hour flew by. Severus had been most prophetic in his assessment of the task, it seemed, because by the time Hermione reached the end of her first sixty minutes in Madam Eve's laboratory, she had nearly completed this very fast and complicated brew.

Hermione assumed that was part of the test. Anyone could follow instructions if they were given the time. The real test of an up and coming Potions Mistress was to see if their instincts could handle a task that was second by second, volatile, temperamental, whirlwind and quick to execute (but also quick to implode). Several times, Hermione felt her heart seize in her chest when she realized that if she was a second too early with the Augury bile, or if she had accidentally let a Dirigible seed slip in with the peeled fruit skin, she could have done more than melt her cauldron, the results would have been catastrophic. But she couldn't linger on it, she didn't have time. If she paused to think about anything else, she would fail.

There were many, many ingredients, but Hermione never had a hard time finding any of them. They were so laid out and visible, either dangling from the rafters or else displayed on their tiered racks, it was a unique pleasure not to have to hunt for items through backlogged shelves of anciently labeled bottles.

Finally, when Hermione arrived at the last step, she crushed her Doxy eggs into a whisper-fine powder and held a pinch between her fingers, hovering over the cauldron… And then. It was there, in that last moment, that Hermione realized what potion she was making.

A cold sweat broke out on her skin immediately. Her heart raced. She held the Doxy egg powder aloft for a long, sustained moment. And then, with a shake of her head, she pulled away, dumping the powder down on the cutting board beside her.

Hermione raised her wand, and with a determined, "Evanesco," she vanished the potion in a blink.

Hermione stepped away from her cauldron, turning to Madam Eve in silence.

Eve's eyes were piercing and shrewd. "What is your meaning?" she asked.

Hermione felt her hands trembling. "I've proven that I can make the potion," she replied, "but I will not finish it."

"Why is that?" Eve intoned.

Hermione took a deep breath, then said, "It is Agonia. A tormenting drought."

Eve folded her arms across her chest. "It is. And, as you say, you have proven you can brew but not follow instructions."

Hermione prickled at the dismissal. "Pardon my disagreement," she said firmly, "but that's not true. I remember your words exactly, you stated that I must prove my skills adequate to the task. I have done so. You did not, in explicit terms, demand that I complete the potion. Therefore I have followed instructions. A technicality, I grant you, but it's only this technicality that has stopped me from walking out entirely, so I feel it's worth noting."

For a very long time, Madam Eve said nothing. She cocked her head, hands still crossed across her chest, the entire line of her body screaming a stately, unshakable elegance.

"I concede your point, Miss Granger," she said finally. "You have proven yourself without fault. I would like to extend you an offer of apprenticeship with me at Hemlock House."

Despite all the other feelings roiling inside her, Hermione still felt herself sparked with relief. She had wanted to impress, and had done so. She was also comforted by Eve's acceptance of Hermione's clear rejection of the cursed potion. Perhaps that had even been a test in its own right.

Madam Eve went on. "If you accept my offer, please know that you will be expected to board here at Hemlock for the duration of your studies."

Hermione's eyes widened. She had not anticipated this.

Eve registered Hermione's shock. "You may finish out your weekend with Snape, of course, to ready your things and gather supplies. As well as make your decision, I suppose. I understand that this meeting is not one-sided. You must accept me as I have you."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. Her mind was buzzing. She had no idea what she felt in this moment, only that she wasn't sure of what she wanted. There was such a lot to consider, her head absolutely reeled. How could she say yes to abandoning Severus? To leaving their research before they had even started?

Eve appeared to anticipate a few of Hermione's unasked questions. "I know that you and Snape have a project. He mentioned its importance and I have no qualms about your commitment to it. Evenings and weekends will be yours to do with as you wish, and you may travel, when requested, and if your studies are not impeded."

This gave Hermione another blast of relief. At least it was a considerable offer. She would still have time, opportunities to be with Severus, to pursue their cooperative endeavor.

"However." Eve's gaze, which had already been piercing, suddenly flashed with an all new fierceness that made Hermione quiver slightly at the knees. "You must always sleep at Hemlock House unless authorized to do otherwise. You will be under my tutelage and I'm afraid that comes with specific obligations. In this house, you will learn more than you could ever dream imaginable. You will have every avenue available to you, and should you complete your apprenticeship there is nothing I will not give you to aid in your professional ascendence. But, you must abide my rules and conform to a certain degree of propriety."

Hermione felt her eyebrows furrow of their own accord. She was fascinated by this offer, enlightened, electrified. She had no doubt that Madam Eve was telling the truth, that she could indeed deliver on every claim she made. But Hermione balked at the restraints, at being so controlled. It would be a hard bargain. She would have to think about it. Which is what she said.

"I understand, Madam Eve," Hermione said respectfully. "Thank you for your offer. I appreciate the time to consider it."

Eve gave a pert nod, apparently supportive of Hermione's reticence. "As you say, it is not a decision to be made lightly."

"May I have the day? I will think over what you've said and reply with my decision tomorrow."

"I find that acceptable."

Hermione gave a hesitant smile and picked up her purse from the ground, sheathing her wand once more inside her pocket. "In that case, thank you for your time, Madam Eve. I will be in touch."

This time, Eve extended her hand. Hermione took it, feeling, again, an odd blush creep up on her as the woman's flesh met her own.

Just as Hermione was turning to leave, she heard her name. Hermione stopped.

Madam Eve looked at her with a strange mixture of wariness and annoyance. "It goes without saying," she said icily, "that Snape may not visit you here. If you accept my offer, you may not receive him at this house, not even in your room. Especially not in your room. I will not have errant carnalities under my roof."

Hermione felt the blush reach every nerve in her body. Cheeks flaming, she nodded, trembling with the thought. "Yes," she said. "Of course."

"Very well. I await your decision, Miss Granger. Tiptoe will show you out."

Severus was just as Hermione had left him, reading studiously on his bench. He looked up as she approached, somehow sensing her presence. Innately keen, as always, she thought, the senses of a panther.

"Well," he prompted, standing up and tucking his book away inside the inner pocket of his vest.

"She has a house elf," Hermione replied, not knowing where else to start.

Severus winced. Oh no… he seemed to be thinking.

Hermione half smiled. "Whom she appears to treat very well."

Severus looked relieved. "I would be surprised to hear otherwise. As I mentioned she is quite respectable if a bit…"

Hermione burst out, "Completely mad!"

"Now, really, I don't think—"

Hermione almost stamped her foot. "Do you know what she set for my examination, Severus? Agonia!"

Severus's eyebrows shot up.

"I can't believe it! Without even meeting me, not knowing a jot about me. What I could have done! That potion is highly illegal. How many things might have gone wrong, one of the most volatile brews, it's absurd to think, I could have reduced us both to rubble with the slightest mistake. I know you vouched for me but she couldn't really have known my skills were enough to the task. She is entirely, absolutely mad."

To Hermione's great surprise, Severus smirked. "The best ones are," he replied.

Hermione felt a cold stab of jealousy strike through her. Then, in a blink, she promptly dismissed it. Don't be ridiculous, she told herself. You're better than that. Jealousy is ever so droll.

"In any case," Hermione continued, taking a breath.

"Yes…"

She adjusted her satchel on her shoulder and flicked a stray tendril of hair from her face, trying not to sound too haughty. "I haven't decided yet," she sniffed. She rather thought the haughtiness came through anyway.

Severus did not appear surprised. He slipped his hand almost lazily into his pocket. "As is your right. I assume she will want your word before the end of weekend?"

"I promised to send her my answer tomorrow."

"Very well. I will leave you to your deliberations. In the meantime," Severus quirked his finger at her, intending for her to follow him as he started walking down the street. "There is something I need to show you. I assume you've learned to apparate by now? Please tell me Hogwarts hasn't entirely given up the facade of practical learning."

"I know how to apparate," Hermione snipped as she followed him.

He took her to a row of shops one block down and then around behind a quaint little ice cream shop where there was a small courtyard boxed in by the surrounding buildings. There, tucked discreetly in a corner, was a tall pair of potted plants set against the concrete wall.

"Here," Severus said a bit gruffly. He held out his hand.

Hermione took it, her annoyance immediately dissipating. His palm encircled hers and then, gently, he pulled her between the two plants and through an enchanted entrance in the wall, into a hidden bit of patio no bigger than a broom cupboard.

"It is safe to apparate and disapparate here without the threat of Muggles," he explained. "There are many of these scattered plots throughout London. I can show you a map of them later, I'm certain you will find it useful." Severus kept his grip on Hermione's hand. In fact, he pulled her closer. "I will guide you with Side-Along this time to an apparition plot close to my flat. It is privately owned by my family and meant only for our particular use. You may use it now, as well. Assuming you accept Lamont's offer, you'll want easy travel between our estates."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him the particulars of Madam Eve's rules, that Hermione would have to move into Hemlock House and that Severus would only see her on nights and weekends, but, before she could say a word, Severus pulled her flush against his side, wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and then, with a sharp turn and disorienting crack, they disapparated.

When they appeared again, it was inside a candle-lit room. Again, a very small space, this time with a low arching ceiling and walls of faded red brick. This place had clearly been given some thought, however, and appeared to be meant as a reception space of some kind. There was a squat sofa and two chairs, an umbrella stand with various wet weather attire, a coat rack hung on one of the walls and there were even several decorative paintings, mostly of landscapes, windy coastlines and melancholy moors. A hunting dog sat panting in one of the corner portraits, tail wagging, a limp duck held in its mouth.

Severus released Hermione and stepped forward to where there was an outline of a door on the wall. He held out his hand. "When you are exiting, say, Lepus…" As he did so, the outline glowed briefly and then turned transparent. From where they stood, they had a perfectly clear view of the street, presumably to pick a choice time to emerge without witnesses, as Hermione suspected they were still hidden while inside the room.

"And when you are entering," he continued, "you will say, Serpens."

Hermione nodded then gave a small sigh. "More Latin. Why is it always Latin?"

Snape's flat was right across the street. When they emerged from the apparition area, Hermione turned to see that the hidden doorway was set into a brick wall between dangling curtains of honeysuckle.

"Serpens," Hermione said after they had crossed the street. "It means serpent, or snake, I assume. But what does Lepus mean? Maybe like Lupus? Wolf? I really ought to take a course in Latin, it's ridiculous how many times I find myself asking after the origins of spells and their meanings."

"Yes," Severus agreed, opening the door to the flat and walking inside. "You really ought to."

He did not offer the answer to Hermione's question, however, and she gathered he meant for her to discover it herself. Fine, she thought determinedly. Give me two months and I'll be a great proficient, Snapey.

"Next to Arithmancy," she said briskly, brushing past him into the sitting room, "learning a phonetic language ought to be a walk in the park."

"Extra credit if you can do it blindfolded," Severus deadpanned.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

Severus smiled. Only a brief flash, quickly suppressed, as was his usual fashion, but it melted her heart all the same.

Hermione shuffled her feet, knowing she needed to tell him now rather than later, but loathe to broach the subject. "There is something I need you to know about Madam Eve's arrangement."

Severus's lip curled into a sneer. "Madam Eve, is it?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's what she asked me to call her."

"Forgive me if I do not acquiesce to that request."

"Given she's outright banned you from her presence, I suppose you can call her whatever you want."

"Lamont will suffice."

"Anyway, there are some rules in her proposal that I wanted to, er, to discuss with you, before I decide. It may change your mind. I'm not sure."

"Mine is not the mind that needs to be swayed, but, by all means enlighten me."

Hermione wrung her hands lightly, tracing, as she often did in times of anxiety, along that tapered line across her palm, the one from which her life magic had once sprung. She could see Severus's dark eyes flicker down to her hands and then back up again, his reaction deliberately neutral.

"Apparently," Hermione started haltingly, "Madam Eve wants me to stay with her, at Hemlock House, for the duration of my apprenticeship. She says that I will have evenings and weekends to spend however I want and she knows about our Largitio research and is happy to let us travel or pursue leads when we must. But… Well… Would that be alright? I know I've only just arrived and you have this spare room for me. It seems so abrupt to be here and then suddenly not be here. That is, if I accept. What do you think?"

Severus did not seem the least bit disturbed. "A straightforward affair. I don't see why you expect me to have disagreement."

"You mean, her request isn't strange?"

"To the contrary, it is customary. Apprenticeships in the magical world are taken very seriously, their rules and traditions even more so. Nowadays, I suppose a full live-in contract might be considered old fashioned but hardly uncommon."

"So, if I apprenticed with you, then staying here would be traditional?"

Severus's face darkened slightly. Not in meanness, more in confusion, trepidation.

"I know," Hermione backpedaled quickly, "I do still agree with you, I'm not asking to change your mind on that subject, I was just curious."

"Yes," he replied. "That would have been customary."

"What if…" Hermione paused slightly before continuing. "What if you were to take on an apprentice. Someone who isn't me?"

Severus waved dismissively. "I have no intention of doing such a thing."

Hermione let her hands fall and she cocked her head slightly, looking Severus over with a degree of somberness that she hadn't expected to feel. "That's a shame," she said softly. "All your gifts. Your talents. You don't want to pass them on?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "My gifts indeed, nothing that can't be learned through hard work and cunning. I'm not an exceptional innovator, merely an exceptional adept."

"You're too modest."

"I am not."

"I strongly disagree. But, either way, you still have a lot to teach."

"And you have a lot to learn. Don't think I'll stand idly by while you form mediocre habits in my presence. Lamont will teach you what she knows, but there is plenty that she is certain to miss. I won't hold my tongue if you step awry."

There. Hermione flushed with happiness. That's what she wanted to hear. Don't shut me out, Severus, she thought. That's all I ask.

"Of course," she replied dryly, "I'll be sure to mind your instruction. How else will I maintain my know-it-all reputation? And, besides." Hermione smiled, her eyes sparking mischievously. "As I was once so charmingly told, you refuse to be seen with an ignorant witch."

Severus blinked, stunned by the comment. Hermione could sense it. They were almost there. She could almost say it.

It was on the tip of her tongue to bring up their relationship, to ask him that ultimate question. Are your feelings still the same? And then, Severus spoke first.

"I think it's time," he said, "for you to see what I have been brewing."