Hermione entered the breakfast hall on Friday morning and walked past the long tables of chattering students. The air smelled of baked goods and greasy sausages, she took a deep inhale her mouth watering slightly. Shiny black hair caught her eye as she scanned the room; Severus was sitting in his usual seat…right next to her usual seat. Of course, he wouldn't sit somewhere else just because he was cross with her, he would never let a person know they had gotten to him.

She sat down next to Severus with a brisk, "Good morning, Professor", and laid her napkin in her lap without looking at him. She poured herself a large mug of coffee and drank deeply.

A low reply. "Good morning, Professor Granger." Severus was clearly feeling ruffled by their argument the day before, but she knew he would always be cordial to her in front of students.

She took a bite of her bagel, which had magically appeared on her plate as she sat down. The elves must know what she liked for breakfast for they had made her a perfectly toasted bagel complete with cream cheese, salmon, capers, onion, and a thick slice of tomato. A small moan escaped her lips - it was incredible.

Severus jerked slightly and gave a disgruntled cough. She froze, her bright mood from her breakfast fading, her appetite with it. She chewed slowly, feeling a bit queasy. Even though she knew she hadn't been in the wrong, she hated not speaking to him.

She pushed down the urge to make peace and to inform Severus that she wasn't dating Rowland - that she had merely said yes when he asked if she might like to meet his new Qilin. Rowland had warned her that the young colt was shy, but he had run to Hermione and nuzzled her hand with his face as soon as she approached - the visit had cheered her immensely.

Severus was the one who made assumptions. He was the one who had pulled a complete turnabout and started calling her Miss Granger. Hermione sipped her coffee, using her peripherals to study Severus's demeanor. He ate like a monk, silent and focused.

She wondered if he knew. Would he be furious at the violation of his privacy? Ever since she had realized where the voice was coming from, she'd tried to remember everything it had ever said to her. It was a long list; she wished she'd written them all down. Each statement, each nudge, gentle or not, now needed to be re-examined in light of this new information.

There was his comment the night before - Perhaps Professor Rowland can offer the support you're looking for. That one had seemed obvious, but she explored all options anyway to be thorough.

It had also occurred to her that perhaps she was looking at it all wrong…perhaps he was hot and bothered for Rowland. Come to think of it, she had never heard of Severus dating anyone; she had no idea at all what type of person he was into. Either Severus was jealous that Hermione was spending all her time with Rowland, or that Rowland was spending all his time with her. There was always the possibility that he and Rowland had a history she was unaware of, some injury never resolved - that it may have nothing to do with her.

She held in a smile as she imagined the wizard's reaction to her theories. No, that wasn't it. After all, he had made it clear that she was the chink in his armor, not Lucas.

She took no pleasure in making anyone jealous, she'd had enough of that with Ron, but a part of her enjoyed knowing that Severus was bothered by the idea of her with someone else, that Severus might think about her at night, perhaps in bed, unable to sleep, wondering who she was with…no, she didn't hate that.

He had been angry that the other teachers had shown pity. What had he called them? Civilians?

This is war. They're not above rape.

He can really hurt you.

Foolish Girl.

Severus had been guiding her in the cellar. She had to assume at this point that Severus was involved with her escape. How could anyone have known where she was? She felt a tug in her chest that he had risked so much. What was she, in the grand scheme of things, to jeopardize the mission? She still didn't know for sure, but if he had…that was something she could never repay.

Hermione needed to find out more. She focused her mind on the side of Severus' head. He wasn't looking at anything, in particular, but a small crinkle formed on his brow.

Psst, Snape. She thought. Hey, are you gonna finish that?

Severus sipped his black coffee.

Severus!

He ate a spoonful and didn't look up, stirring his porridge.

Oi, dungeon bat!

His face didn't move.

She frowned. What if the master of deception was just pretending? Hermione bit back a wicked smile. Can I pop by your office later to borrow some books and sit on your face?

Severus wiped his lips and set his napkin on the table.

Well if that didn't get a reaction… She concluded that their mental connection must only go one way.

A gasp from the student body drew her attention away from the handsome Professor. Flying in through the high window of the Great Hall, Hermione recognized Ginny's owl Pigwideon. She understood the student's concern; Pig's eyes were wide with alarm as he failed to maintain altitude.

Hermione pulled out the empty chair on the other side of her. Pig flapped his wings for dear life as he tried to stay aloft above them. He flitted over and collapsed onto the chair face up, his tiny chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath. Hermione grabbed a small teacup from the table and filled it with cool water for him, allowing him to roll over and take a few gulps, before promptly falling asleep. She gingerly untied the letter attached to the owl's foot.

Hermione recognized the handwriting immediately, it was from Ginny. She had written several letters to Ginny, Ron, and Harry asking them if they sent her flowers, something she should have done on Sunday. She tore open the wax seal and unfolded it. It was dated September 7th; Ginny must have just written it that morning.

Hermione,

Hi love! First off, we all miss you like crazy at the Burrow. I've been home a few days a week in between matches, the house feels so empty. Could I come to visit you? I could really use some girl time.

I was so sorry to hear that someone had written such hateful shite on your door, and I hate that someone made you feel unsafe. That must have been awful.

I'm sorry to say that this is not just a friendly hello - I have some bad news. Yaxley is on house arrest pending his trial, which is three months from now. I wanted you to hear it from me before you read it in the paper. Mum was hysterical, but Kingsley says our side will have ministry law enforcement officers watching him at all times.

Hermione heard a ringing in her ears - Yaxley was free. Well, not technically, free, but he was out of Azkaban. She wondered, the blood creeping into her face, if he was already at home. Was he sitting in front of the fire, sipping firewhiskey in his fancy fuck-off pureblood mansion?

She was suddenly fuming, reading the paragraph again.

"Miss Granger?" Severus' voice cut through the fog in her head. She ignored him.

Why on earth would anyone let that monster out of jail? She had written a statement, laying out his crimes for the Ministry, and they just let him out? Perhaps she should offer again to testify against him in his upcoming trial. She had tried when the war ended, but the Wizengamot had not taken her up on it. She had assumed it was because they had enough to put him away for good, that what he had done to her was nothing in comparison to the murder and destruction that man had caused. That had been fine with her, as long as he never got out of jail. She finished the rest of the letter.

Hermione, we've got your back. Kingsley is coming to speak to you in person as soon as he can, but he asked me to tell you this verbatim:

'The Ministry is monitoring Yaxley's every move. He won't be able to take a piss without us knowing about it. You are safe at Hogwarts. Send your patronus if you run into any trouble.'

Whatever you need, Hermione. Write back.

Love,

Ginny

PS. I almost forgot - those flowers weren't from me or anyone in our family. I asked our friends too, but no one took credit. I know you don't need anyone to tell you to be careful, but honestly, you really are quite trusting - you see the good in everyone and that's why we love you, so promise you'll be careful.

Take care xx

She took several long, slow, breaths. Students were likely watching her, so she kept her face as neutral as she could manage. No use in falling apart now. What on earth would Severus say? Ginny was right, she was too trusting. Hermione had been so content, so complacent in her cozy Hogwarts life, that she didn't want to believe anyone would try to ruin it for her. She hadn't imagined that someone like Yaxley could ever be free again. A horrifying thought came to her: what if he was found innocent? Someone clearly didn't believe he was violent if they had let him go home.

She reread the letter in its entirety, noting that Ginny had written "our family". Her heart warmed for the Weasleys who had embraced her as their own when she was unable to bring her parent's memories back.

She fished a piece of parchment and a muggle pen from her bag and scribbled a note back to Ginny.

Stay over tonight? Come after Patrols. Miss you!

She tied the note to Pig's foot. "When you're ready." She petted the sleeping bird softly and left him to rest.

When she turned back to her food, she heard another commotion above her; the Prophet owls had arrived. She didn't reach for hers as the birds dropped papers down from the ceiling, but the headline flashed in front of her.

Shocking Court Decision: 12 Death Eaters Receive House Arrest Pending Trial

She was glad she had received her letter from Ginny first. She didn't want to learn the details here in front of everyone, so she folded the paper up and put it in her bag to read later.

Severus skimmed the article and then glanced at Hermione. He cleared his throat, "Professor-"

"I will see you on patrol tonight. I'll meet you at the entrance at 8?" She avoided his eyes as she pushed her chair out and picked up her bag.

Severus nodded, looking back at his paper.

.

Friday afternoon ticked by slowly. Hermione oversaw the dim room of small heads bent over cauldrons. The air in the Remedial Potions class was thick with rising steam and overlapping scents. A pleasant bubbling noise sounded from the workstations, making her feel quite sleepy.

Remedial Potions on Friday afternoons were a chance for her students of all levels to make up a potion that they failed in class, or to get some extra help. As her students handed in their potions and were dismissed, she marked down their grades and wished them a happy weekend. She was happy to keep watch and answer questions since she knew each potion they were brewing by heart.

Her desk was covered in books, open to various pages, and marked with small slips of paper. The Prophet was still folded in her bag, but she just wasn't ready to learn which of her monsters was sitting at home eating caviar and sipping malt whiskey.

Hermione wished she had taken the Herbology books that Severus had tried to lend her. So far, his recommendations had been great. The first one she had opened was quite good, and she liked the prose of the author, which was poetic yet accessible. The way he described fungi and the interconnectedness of plant life was inspiring. Hermione had never felt a passion for plants or keeping anything alive, save for Crookshanks, who was currently on loan at the Burrow to keep the gnomes out of Molly's garden. But this Merlin Sheldrake lit the desire in Hermione to take Severus' advice and start growing her ingredients. She knew she was quite good at complicated potions; perhaps one day she could go into business for herself. She could run a private apothecary or perhaps a potions boutique.

As irritated as she was at his behavior, Severus was great at book recommendations. She sighed. He was such a conundrum: war hero, master spy, hated by all, admired by all, loved by none.

They had gone through something horrible together, and made it out the other side. Because of that shared experience, he knew how strong she was and how weak she could be. Perhaps the war had just taken a lot of the superfluous fears she had about other people's opinions, but she found that she didn't mind if Severus knew her weaknesses. She hadn't hated him when all evidence pointed to him being a murderer, and she didn't hate him now.

There were three students still struggling with their potions as the class drew to a close. A shy first-year girl in the middle row was remaking her Cure for Boils, which had exploded inexplicably in the last five minutes of class on Wednesday.

In the front row, a fifth-year Ravenclaw who had overmixed his wit-sharpening potion the previous morning was making up the assignment.

Malcolm, the seventh-year Slytherin who had spilled his potion all over Hermione on Monday, was also showing signs of distress. He chewed on his lower lip as he struggled with his Elixir to Induce Euphoria.

Hermione approached him at the workbench. "Malcolm, are there any questions I can answer for you?"

"I'm mucking this up." Malcolm set down his stirrer and ran his hands through his hair. "It's gone all grey-brown, I know it's supposed to be gold."

Hermione nodded, keeping her face neutral so as not to make him feel judged. She scanned the ingredients he had laid out on the bench. "Do you know which ingredient made your potion brown?"

Malcolm shook his head.

"That would be the castor beans. Do you know which of your other ingredients counteracts the castor beans?"

Malcolm hesitated. "I…er…don't know."

"Peppermint has a calming effect on the castor beans, which allows for the drinker to be calm and rational after ingestion," she instructed. She stirred the ladle gently, letting the brown liquid drip back into the cauldron as she observed its viscosity. "I think you were meant to add a few more springs, and perhaps a bit earlier next time."

"Can I just add more now?" Malcolm didn't look too upset, but Hermione could tell he was exhausted.

"Unfortunately, it's too late to save it." Malcolm gave a dejected sigh, so she continued, "I saw the progress you made the other day before it spilled. You will receive a passing grade, but not perfect marks. In the future, I expect you to read the instructions more thoroughly beforehand. "

"Thanks, professor." Malcolm stood to pack up his book and clear the potions table. His face had fallen. She felt a tug on her conscience.

"I think if you were able to give me, say, 10 inches of parchment on the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other, I could consider giving you full credit. So long as you demonstrate that you understand the material."

The corner of Malcom's mouth twitched up, "I will….thanks, Professor." His eyes lingered on her chest as he stepped back.

Teenagers.

As he walked out, Hermione wondered whether Malcolm had been in Horace's Slug Club. Professor Slughorn had left her a list of incoming seventh-year students that he believed belonged in her Advanced Potions class, and Malcolm's name had been on the list. Today, however, she wondered whether she had been wrong to take Slug's word for it. Malcolm didn't seem to know the first thing about the properties of his potion ingredients, and he certainly had not read the chapter in his textbook before class, as he was instructed. Perhaps he was just a bit lazy, like Harry and Ron. The boys usually put in minimal effort on homework, and they managed to get into Advanced Potions.

Perhaps she was a bit more like Snape as an instructor than she had realized. She suddenly felt awful, criticizing her student and assuming their potential when they were only a week into term. There was plenty of time in the term for improvement.

"Professor?" Eloise's small voice tinkled across the room. "I think I need help."

"What seems to be the problem?" Hermione asked her, leaning over to peer into the bubbling cauldron.

Eloise's brown eyes were wide and fearful. "It's time to add the shrake spines, but the last time I did that, the cauldron exploded."

"It's alright. I think you may have stirred the cauldron too vigorously after you added the spines. They are very volatile and must be worked in slowly. So now that we know what not to do, we can try again. Let's do it together. Are you ready?"

Eloise nodded. She picked up a few spines and dropped them on top of the thick liquid, following them with her eyes as they sunk lazily.

"Once they are naturally submerged, give them a gentle turn with your stirrer."

Eloise moved her hands slowly, her little brow furrowed up in concentration. Merlin, she was cute. Hermione hid a smile as Eloise added a few more spines. The steam from the cauldron took on a musky scent. "Great job, Eloise."

A fifth-year boy who had set his potion down on her desk began to walk out. "Thank you, Toby. Nice work today." Hermione called out to him. Toby was a nice kid, albeit a bit shy.

"Have a nice weekend, Professor." Toby waved and closed the door behind him.

She turned back to Eloise, who was holding a small bowl of slugs, hesitating before putting them in.

Hermione nodded. "It's alright, Eloise, you only have two ingredients left, and I know you were taking notes in class. Go ahead and finish up. You have plenty of time."

She waited and watched Eloise finish her potion, which turned out fine. It was clear to Hermione that Eloise was nervous and needed to build her confidence.

When Eloise had dropped off her potion and walked out, Hermione breathed a long exhale and began to gather her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder. It was the same weightless purple bag that she had brought with them on the run a few years earlier. She couldn't bring herself to leave it behind anywhere she went.

She trekked across the castle, through the quad, and over to the Staff Tower. She certainly deserved a nice nap after her first week of teaching. Despite whomever was trying to interfere with her week, it had been a success.

She had gotten to know several of her colleagues better, and Flitwick had asked her to assist him in Charms club. She got the feeling he had more or less promised the children that she would attend due to her status as a pseudo-celebrity.

On top of that, she had achieved her lifelong dream of checking books out of the Restricted Section and bringing them back to her quarters. As a teacher, she had unrestricted access, but she still felt apprehension when she handed Madam Pince her checkout card.

As she turned a corner to enter the corridor, a blast of yellow light whizzed past her face. She ducked and reached for her wand, just as another yellow ball of light slammed into her head. She toppled over, consciousness fading in and out. She saw a pair of black trainers approach. She tried to lift her head to see who her attacker was, but her head pounded and she fell back down, disoriented.

She barely heard a voice whisper "Stupify" before all went black.