AN: I do want to remind you that this story is different from my other works – please keep that in mind. I have not really done any romance, particularly as the main point of the story before here on FF. You have been warned.

Hermione woke the next morning with only a fuzzy memory of what had happened the night before. Where was she? This old-fashioned room, with a large, carved bed and blue drapes at the window felt so foreign – where was she? With a startle, she realized she was wearing unfamiliar pajamas and her clothes were draped over a chair beside the bed. Suddenly, like a punch to the stomach, she remembered. Coming to Professor Snape's manor, talking with him, the attack on the house in France . . .

"Yous awake!" Mixie chirped. "Miss Hermione!"

"Mixie!" she exclaimed with energy. She hugged the house elf to her chest and began to cry again. "They're really gone."

"I checked," Mixie told her somberly. "I went back. Everyone is gone. Babco is dead, he fought like I should have fought."

"You did what Master Bill told you to do," she told the shaking elf firmly. "He had you bring it, didn't he?"

"Yes, Miss," the elf told her. "He said I hads to goes because you neededs its. He saids I belongs to yous now."

"Keep it hidden with your magic," she told her, not dealing with the idea that she had now become the owner of a house elf. "Don't show anyone, wizard or elf. I'm depending on you."

"I wills do it!" Mixie promised.

"Good, now we have to think of next plans," she told the elf.

"Where wills we goes, Miss?" the elf asked, nearly a wail. "Theres is nowhere else, nowheres safe!"

"We're safe here for now," she told the elf. "I don't know how long the Professor will let us stay. We must be brave now. I know we're sad, but we have to put that aside for now. What I have planned might save everyone we've lost."

"Please, Miss, I wants its back," the elf cried.

"Me too," she agreed, trying not to let herself feel the depth of her grief. "Shhhh, love, just cuddle with me here."

They lay in bed and cuddled for a time, both of them feeling the loss of their family and their safety. Hermione knew the elf was right – there were not a lot of places left for them to go. They had thought France was safe. There were precious few order members left, and none she wanted to burden with someone as famous as herself. She had been a huge target for the Deatheaters since Hogwarts had fallen, that's why she hadn't stepped foot in England in all that time.

"Miss Hermiones wants breakfast?" Tilly asked with a chirp.

"Yes, please," Hermione answered, sitting up in her bed. "Thank you. You are Tilly, correct?"

"Yes, Tilly, Miss," she answered, placing a tray down beside Hermione. Hermione could smell the tempting food as well as the tea, and she could almost feel like eating.

"Thank you for the food," Hermione told Tilly. "Do you know if Professor Snape is awake for the day?"

"Professor Snape ins the library," Tilly told her. "He likes there in mornings, then lab in afternoons."

"Thank you," she replied, sipping the tea.

"Does Miss needs clothes?" the elf asked, looking at the borrowed pajamas and the clothes Hermione had been wearing before, admittedly still damp and dirty from her adventure the day before.

"I have brought some," Hermione told her. "I have them shrunk in my bag; I will change after breakfast."

"Yous eat," Tilly told her firmly. "Masters Snape saids yous may not wants to eat because yous sad, but yous eat. Or it makes Tilly sad. Makes Miss sick."

"I will eat," Hermione smiled at the tiny elf that was trying to be firm with her. She got the impression that the house elf was under the assumption that she was a child, this felt like the tactics a house elf would take with raising a child. Rather than feeling offended, Hermione felt touched. It had been a long time since someone had worried about her, let alone fussed over her like the house elf did. "I promise I will eat something. I am feeling very sad, but I will eat so you don't have to be sad."

"Good girl," the house elf replied, confirming Hermione's suspicion about her being treated as a pampered child. "I comes for yous dirties clothes later."

As Tilly blinked away, Hermione inspected the breakfast she had brought her. It was a hearty breakfast – sausages, eggs, tomatoes, and toast – and when she got a full whiff of the smell her earlier feelings of not eating left her. She knew she would need her strength for whatever lay ahead and that breakfast was better than anything she'd seen in ages. Hiding out in France, though the Delecours were hospitable and did everything they could to make her comfortable, did not lend itself to tasty breakfasts. The French just didn't do breakfast the same – yogurt, a hard roll, and coffee were good, but not the same. Looking at this very English breakfast, she suddenly had an ache in her chest for home. But she pushed that ache away, just as she did every time grief tried to rear its head in her life. Since the battle of Hogwarts, she had not had the luxury of grief. She had seen too much death and endured too much loss. And she was determined not to grieve anymore but instead do something to fix it. Picking up her cutlery, she began to eat.

"Do you want some, Mixie?" she asked. "There's plenty here to share."

"I ate ins the kitchens," Mixie told her. "The elves heres are nice. Theys said Master Snape sir mights let us stays. I likes these elves."

"You could always stay here if I go somewhere else," Hermione told her.

"No," Mixie told her firmly. "No, Mistress. Master Bills told me tos stay with yous, and that yous are my new Mistress. I goes with yous always."

"Well, then I think we might need to work on a plan," Hermione thought logically. "I think that the Professor has given up on hope and given up on life. It is up to us to remind him."

"Hows do wes do that?"

"Bill was worried that Professor Snape was going to be in such a state, as all of our spying had told us that he lived a quiet life and wasn't interested at all in resuming any activities with the Order. So he said, well, actually it was Gabby that said it, but that one of the best ways to remind a man of life is to remind him of . . . womanly interest," Hermione explained. "If we can remind him of life, of love, of . . . sex, then maybe he will remember that there's something worth fighting for. But I am not very well . . . well, very well versed at this. My only dating experience was at Hogwarts when I was a teenager, and I have no idea how to seduce a man, especially a man like the Professor."

"Then whys you?" Mixie squeaked.

"I was the only one," Hermione acknowledged. "Gabby is married with an infant, Gabby's mother is married and disabled and didn't feel capable of a seduction, and the only other woman was a woman of sixty who hated the Professor. Although, if Gabby's mother was up for it, her Veela blood would surely have helped. But truly, there are so few of us left . . . so it is me, however unsuitable I may be."

"We's can finds out whats he likes!" Mixie exclaimed. "All wizards have . . . books . . . that's haves pictures of womens . . . theys keeps private . . ."

"That's a great idea, Mixie!" Hermione agreed, though her stomach churned a bit at the invasion of privacy for the Professor. But this is important, she told herself. I'm on a mission. "Perhaps if we can find out what he does like, then I can become more like what he does like."

"I wills finds his books," Mixie promised. "Theres nos wards here for me."

"Don't get caught," Hermione warned her. "Books of that type are likely in his bedroom, so be very careful. The last thing we want is for him to get mad at us."

"I knows hows to find them, Mistress," she trilled. "I serveds manys men befores."

For the few minutes that Mixie was gone, Hermione could barely contain her anxiety. What would happen if she got caught? But then, before Hermione could even hardly begin to fathom what it would be like in the world alone with just her and a house elf for company, Mixie was back, clutching a large, flat book that looked to contain many photographs.

"Founds it!" she cried. "Theres were others . . ."

"But one is less likely to be missed," Hermione nodded. "Very smart."

"Finish your breakfasts first," Mixie told her. "I don't's wants Tillys sads at us."

Hermione quickly finished the breakfast, surprised at her own appetite, and then accepted the book from Mixie. She opened the book to the first page, and her eyes grew wide. Turning the page, she found herself at a loss for words. She gulped quite involuntarily.

…..

Hermione had lunch in her room as well, as Professor Snape wanted to give her space to deal with her new circumstances. He sent an invitation to dine with him for dinner, which he assumed she would take as his permission to stay at least another night.

In truth, he didn't know what to do with the girl. He couldn't send her back right away as the property in France was likely being watched, and there was little for her to return to any way except the charred bodies of those she loved. He had kept a passing record of some of the others in the order, and he knew that their numbers were dwindling. He wondered if her best chance was to change everything about herself and try afresh in a different country – maybe somewhere obscure and remote. He sighed deeply as he sent the elf with the dinner invitation – why did this former student become his responsibility? She was a woman grown, not the half-grown teen he had known.

Hermione enjoyed the day to herself, luxuriating in a large and bubble-filled bath that was punctuated by a Mixie splashing her, and then laying in bed and reading some books that Tilly had offered to bring for her. The books Tilly brought were of course much more appropriate than the book Hermoine had stored and warded under the mattress, though the images from that book continued to haunt her. They haunted her in a way that she didn't expect – she had expected to find the Professor's fantasies and shape herself to fit them, but what she found in that book under her mattress was something else entirely, and she had no idea how to cope with it.

Before dinner, Hermione shuffled through the clothes that she had removed from her bag and hung in the closet. Though Gabby had sent her with a few of her dresses that were by all accounts beautiful and sexy, Hermione just couldn't fathom wearing one of them. In the end, she chose a knee-length pencil skirt and a button-up blouse – and she was hoping that it was well enough. Adding a cardigan as she realized there could be a draft, she looked in the mirror and realized she looked more like a librarian than someone who was trying to seduce someone. Looking longingly at the soft chiffon and silk dress that Gabby had provided her, she just couldn't do it. Pencil skirt it was. She did try to fix her curls a bit, though, using some hairpins to train them back and dabbing some soft perfume at her pulse points. And, remembering what Grandmum Delacour had given her, she fastened the ruby-red necklace around her neck. Feeling somewhat ready, she made her way to the dining room.

"Good evening," Professor Snape greeted her, standing as she entered the dining room.

"Good evening," she replied. "Thank you for the care you have given me."

With a nod, Professor Snape held out the chair for her and helped her sit.

"Kindly remove the Veela necklace," he told her, narrowing his gaze.

"The what?" she asked, her hand going to the necklace.

"The seduction charm," he restated. "Around your neck. It's not going to work on me, but I find the buzzing annoying."

"I didn't know . . ." Hermione explained, flushing red and removing the charm. "Grandmum Delacour . . ."

"I'm sure she did," he finished for her, but he could see the truth in her speech. She didn't know what it was; the grandmother probably gave it to her unawares. "But now you know and I expect you not to utilize it against me. It's used to seduce the weak of mind, which I am not."

"I apologize," Hermione told him, reddening as she placed the charm beside her on the table.

"I assume that roast beef is acceptable for dinner?" he asked her, seating himself on the other side of the table.

"I like it very much," she answered truthfully. "It is nice to have some English food after being in France."

"I'm gratified to hear that," he replied in a way that was technically polite but with a slight tone of sarcasm underneath it.

Dinner was a largely silent affair, save for the few words necessary for the serving of the food and the words of appreciation Hermione offered for the quality of the food. In truth, she was surprised at the table that the Professor kept – he was clearly living comfortably. And in a way it felt very odd for her to be here as well – she was pretending good manners and eating a formal meal with a man who the night before had been intent on kicking her out in a rainstorm and had witnessed her complete emotional breakdown upon the deaths of her friends. And the task before her – well, she shuddered a bit at that.

As the last bites of pudding were served, Hermione felt a shift in the temperature of the room – as if the Professor had been giving her a reprieve to eat and now he was shifting tact.

"Do you take coffee or tea after your meal?" he asked her silkily.

"Tea, please," she told him.

Tilly at once popped in with tea and poured her a cup. Hermione felt the tension build, waiting for the questions she knew would come.

"So tell me, Miss Granger, who in the world thought that you would be able to seduce me?" he asked, his voice laced with humor.

"Seduce?"

"If it had been merely a plan you wanted to introduce to me, then Mr. Weasley would have come himself, or perhaps would have accompanied you. You coming alone was to heighten my sympathy to you. Your already awkward attempts paired with the Veela necklace, well, it doesn't take a former spy to discern your intentions."

Hermione blushed and looked down, not knowing how to answer.

"And yet, you're clearly not experienced at this," Snape continued. "You are dressed like a librarian, someone with experience would be in a different frock. You clearly have no talent for this. Now, Miss Granger, is the time for the truth – lest I remind you that I still know how to brew Veritaserum."

Blushing, Hermione had no idea how to answer this. "I, I, well, the plan was for me to . . . connect with you, to remind you of life, and of relationships . . ."

"Was there nobody more suitable?" Snape smirked.

"What's wrong with me?" Hermione demanded, becoming offended.

"Your age and status as a former student to begin with," Severus answered. "Your inexperience as well. And I very much doubt that you would be able to . . . how did you say it? Connect with me?"

"You don't know that," she answered hotly.

"Well, perhaps you can tell me," he told her thoughtfully. "How did you find your reading material today?"

"Tilly managed to find me some books that were quite entertaining, thank you," Hermione blushed.

"Come now, Miss Granger," the Professor said in his deep baritone, his voice suddenly softer and deeper. "Must we play these games? You and I both know that was not the book to which I was referring. How did you find the book your house elf stole from my room?"