Chapter Text
Hermione hadn't said much since June. It hurt too much emotionally. She hadn't quite expected this pain. She expected just about everything else, and she was determined not to feel any anger at things that went exactly as planned. Dumbledore's plans worked out in the end, more or less. Hermione planned well, too, and now that she wasn't in constant mortal danger, she was pleased to get back to making and completing study plans.
The Burrow had been quickly rebuilt, and Hermione stayed there through July. She slept in Ron's bed, clinging to him like a lifeline, but no longer taking her clothes off. Not after the first time, when he winced so hard at her scars that she put out the candles and allowed him to paw her in the darkness, faking an orgasm and cuddling up to him afterward.
On the rare occasion that she spoke, she made sure everyone knew she was going back to Hogwarts. The day after Harry's birthday, Hermione received an owl from Minerva McGonagall, asking for all sorts of extra help: rebuilding the castle, recruiting and retaining faculty, convincing the families of muggle-borns that it would be safe to return, and more. As she read the laundry list of tasks to be done, Hermione felt a smile tug her lips higher and higher.
"With a grin like that, let me guess," Ron said, sliding into the seat next to her. "You're approved for twelve courses, and I'll not see you at all between September and June."
Molly set a plate in front of each of them and shared a small grimace with Hermione. Hermione surveyed the full English, her smile long gone, and said slowly, "No, actually, Professor McGonagall has asked so many favors that I'm sure I have some leverage to get my weekends away from the castle, just like we wanted."
Around a shocking mouthful of food, he replied, "S'all righ' 'en!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and gave her own plate an assessing glare. The rest was fine, but she hated mushrooms. After essentially living on fungus in the Forest of Dean, she never touched them again. Daintily nibbling on a strip of bacon, Hermione ignored Ron's obnoxious masticating and reviewed McGonagall's requests.
Start next week to help rebuild? Yes. Convince the muggle-borns to attend? Maybe. Recruit new staff? Sure, why not. Retain current staff? That was more interesting. She'd relish a chance to chat with Professor Vector again, but Slughorn? Hermione continued to mark the list with yes, no, and maybe.
Then she got to the bit about Snape.
While I would have preferred to keep Severus for Defense, I think he is quite finished with teaching. He is likely the best Potions Master in the country, so I am ready to allow him whatever role keeps him happy. I am still working on that and will be pleased if you have any ideas at all.
Hermione stared at this paragraph for quite some time, trying to think about Snape as happy and failing. The closest she could get was thinking of him in his full strength, teaching Defense or Potions. But the last time she had seen him kept creeping into her vision, a rather unpleasant visage of him dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Even more than the blood, the idea that they abandoned him there gnawed at her more forcefully than Ron at his breakfast. Her appetite left her entirely, and she dropped her half-finished bacon before fleeing the kitchen.
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Severus hadn't said much since June. It hurt too much physically. He hadn't quite expected this pain. He expected just about everything else, and he was determined not to feel any anger at things that went exactly as planned. Dumbledore's plans worked out in the end, more or less. Severus planned well, too, setting up the contingencies and ensuring he'd have something left to live for if he survived and didn't get chucked into Azkaban.
While he had been Headmaster, Spinner's End was fixed up, and it served well enough as a place to hold his books and his bed for the week he spent recovering from his injuries. However, by the end of that week, he was fairly certain staying there would be very very bad for his mental health, and he had the good fortune of Minerva offering him any job at Hogwarts he wanted. He insisted that she make the offer in writing, and then he started shadowing the staff, rather than the faculty.
Poppy Pomfrey wanted to retire, so he took her job.
It raised some eyebrows, but he simply raised his own even higher. Bedside manner would not be not his forte. Obviously. He was rather hopeful that the teenage dunderheads would be more careful, if an accident meant having to come to him for help, and that he'd have a great deal of free time. July proved him wrong long before students actually arrived. The credential for a Potions Master had a lot of overlap with the credential for a Healer, and he spent two intense weeks of study and testing for the official Ministry-stamped credential. The following week, he worked on rebuilding tasks for Hogwarts, but the number of owls delivering post quickly increased. Soon, he was busy with consults at St. Mungo's, assisting more difficult cases of breaking Dark curses and brewing advanced healing potions.
The sixth day of August was a Friday. He swooped into the Great Hall for a late breakfast with the same sour turn of his lips and eternal glare that had been his armor against the world for years. He usually ate quickly and left as soon as possible. Even before it hurt so much to talk, he hated the idle chatter of mealtimes. But, today, Minerva came in just a minute later, looking determined.
Severus stiffened in his chair, darting an assessing glance at his plate. Had he eaten enough to flee immediately? Probably not. He was supposed to help re-ward the dungeons today, and he would need the energy. Holding his fork and knife at a position that was technically polite, but also ready to shank her if necessary, Severus locked eyes with Minerva and offered his full attention.
She gave him a withering look and sat down next to him as she said, "Calm down, Severus, I have good news for once. I have convinced Horace to stay on to teach Potions."
He relaxed his posture, and he took one careful, tiny bite as he waited for the other shoe to drop.
"Hermione Granger will apprentice with him for an accelerated program."
Ah. There it was. The catch. Miss Granger had not even taken her seventh-year studies, but she was to be something of a colleague. Minerva really was desperate to have enough faculty to open the school on September first.
The Headmistress took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before she continued. "She has agreed to do that, as well as teach the first- and second-years, and only sit the classes necessary to advance to Potions Mastery, so that she can train to be ready to take over for him in a year."
Carefully considering how to ask the question in as few words as possible, Severus then asked, "Her project?"
"That too." Minerva pursed her lips in a way that usually meant disapproval. "I told her that I do not expect so much all at once, and that we may be able to keep Horace another year if she needs it for her capstone project."
Severus was inclined to agree. Slughorn would no doubt take advantage of the ongoing chance to cultivate his Slug Club while Miss Granger picked up more and more duties. The capstone project was a truly original contribution to the field, and it was always the most difficult requirement for Mastery, usually requiring a year or more to complete, after the year of advanced study. His own capstone was something he began long before he started his apprenticeship, and even so, he dedicated seven months toiling on the problem.
Did Miss Granger even know what she wanted to do?
Minerva snapped him out of these musings by snapping, "If she comes to you for advice, I expect you to give it."
His hand twitched on his knife, but he gave her a quick nod and pushed his plate away. His appetite was gone, and he fled. A tiny part of him wished he still had his teaching robes billowing dramatically, but he hadn't even touched those robes since his last day as Headmaster. Before term began he would need to invest in a new wardrobe. As he walked to the potions classroom, he amused himself by considering the way Lucius and Narcissa might fuss over him if he dared seek them out in France to ask them for help.
Miss Granger was already there. His arrival in the Potions classroom interrupted a heated discussion she was having with Slughorn. She spoke with a hushed urgency, and the tendrils of hair escaping the simple elastic were curling and uncurling with every breath she took.
Severus smirked. He knew exactly how frustrating it was to disagree with Horace Slughorn. A year ago he would have been enraged that she allowed her emotions to show in a physical response, but now that all their lives were not on the line, he found it rather charming.
Like Lily. Those gorgeous red locks would crackle with power. She didn't just wield magic. She was magic.
Miss Granger was flushed pink when she turned to greet him, but then she schooled her face and said, "Good morning, Professor Snape."
Severus wasn't so sure why he felt the urge to shuffle his feet, but opened his mouth just long enough to correct her. "Healer," he said, wincing at the gravelly sound of his low voice.
Miss Granger's eyes went wide and then her expression settled into a sort of weak smile. "I'm sorry. Of course, Healer Snape."
"Severus!" Slughorn boomed, an immensely pleased grin drawing up underneath his mustache. "I forgot you were coming! Miss Granger and I can finish this next week. The three of us ought to make quick work of the wards, and then we can all skive off early today."
Severus was pleased to note that the severity of Miss Granger's glare matched his own. The girl was not one for eschewing responsibilities.
Under this nonverbal admonishment, Slughorn seemed to lose some of his gusto, but he courageously barreled on, "That is to say, there is so much to do, and I wish to give you, Miss Granger, extra time to review the terms of the apprenticeship contract."
Sorely tempted to flee again, Severus was frozen to the spot as a curious nonverbal exchange took place in front of him. Miss Granger's eyes flicked to the parchments on Slughorn's desk, and Slughorn quickly snatched them up, rolled them, and handed them over. The girls' face was pinched tightly with disapproval, and some sort of unspoken distaste, but she tucked the scroll into her robes and turned her weak smile back to Severus.
"I always suspected safety spells on the Potions classroom, but I did not know which ones until I started my sixth year and determined some of them must be missing."
She was facing Severus and obviously expecting his input, but this was also a clear barb aimed squarely at the other Potions Master. Severus could feel the smirk returning to his face. He would have to be very careful about ganging up with her against Slughorn. He held far too much resentment from his experience as a student, and he needed to keep all that baggage checked.
The girl continued, "For example, I know my classmates liked to moan about how chilly it could get down here, but now I believe the ambient temperature was purposefully capped to keep more cauldrons in one piece."
Severus gave her a single nod.
Miss Granger drew her wand and turned to face the blackboard, which contained a short list of protective spells. She cast to add the temperature ward, and then she looked over her shoulder to ask, "What else is missing from Professor Slughorn's list?"
Drawing his own wand, he tried not to scowl too deeply as the list went from four items to ten. Was Slughorn really going to let hundreds of students brew in this room without proper ventilation charms?
He hesitated as he wrote the last one on the board, watching for Miss Granger's reaction. He was not disappointed when her eyes went wide in alarm. "A meltdown siren? Isn't that meant for industrial environments with highly volatile potions?"
He nodded again and then glared at Slughorn, who roughly cleared his throat. "Ahem, yes, well, Severus would remember the explosion in May of '72. He was working in the adjacent lab and ran for help when the entire class of fifth-years were critically injured. I had that charm applied for the rest of the culprit's academic career at Hogwarts, but haven't felt the need since."
Severus sighed. That would have to do for now.
Miss Granger sighed, too, and gave Severus a pleading look. "I'm really racking up the life debts to you. How many do I owe just from sitting next to Neville in Potions for five years?"
He raised one eyebrow, wondering if she was joking. But silence dragged on, and her earnest expression did not change. "None," he breathed, his throat straining over that one syllable.
Slughorn saved him from having to explain. "No more than you'll be owed any for casting these now, Miss Granger. You're doing it for the common good, and as my proxy. Consider it your first official assignment as my apprentice."
"Yes, sir," she said, taking one last look at the board. "I can do all of them myself except the siren. I don't know how to do that one."
"Very good," Slughorn said, "That one takes at least two casters to do anyway. Severus, care to demonstrate with me?"
He rolled his eyes. That was, after all, the reason he was down here.
The chanting hurt, but he powered through it. Miss Granger took notes and then got on with casting the remaining spells under the watchful eyes of two Potions Masters. Once that was done, Slughorn wished them both a good day and disappeared.
Severus wasn't sure why he felt the need to linger. He could not look away as Miss Granger collected her notes and then turned her weak smile upon him once again. She asked, "Did you apprentice with him?"
He shook his head slowly.
She pulled her contract scroll back out of her pocket. "I haven't signed it yet. Honestly... He's quite the puppeteer without a contract to enforce his whims. I hate to ask more of you, but could you please skim this for red flags?"
This was it. Minerva had ordered him to give advice when asked, and now he could discharge that duty right away. He held out his hand and didn't waste any time.
When he finished, he waved his wand to clear off the board and wrote the two concerns that he could notice.
1. The duty hours are atypical, but they are reasonable if you requested all those weekends off. Likely he would agree to fewer overnight hours if he did not have to take all the weekend supervision required of Hogwarts faculty.
2. He wants too much power over your capstone and credit for its completion, as if he's assuming you will extend his research. It will be easier to negotiate control if you choose your topic before signing. Depending on the originality of that topic, you may need to consult a solicitor regarding your intellectual property.
Severus handed the scroll back to Miss Granger, and she stared at the board long past the time she would need to read his suggestions. After a few minutes, she met his gaze and said, "Thank you. I did ask for the weekends. I love Hogwarts, but I want to see a bit more outside the walls before I commit to a career here."
He could understand that, having felt trapped in these dungeons plenty of times in the past. He vividly recalled Minerva's disapproval of his appointment to the faculty, not because of his reputation but because of his youth. He hadn't understood at the time, but now...
Miss Granger continued, "And I have several ideas for a capstone, but not one that inspires me. I was hoping I could take a few months to figure it out. It's going to be bizarre, sitting in his seventh-year class while also studying independently and teaching the first- and second-years."
Severus cast at the board again and added another item.
3. Your accelerated schedule is unnecessary and possibly unsustainable. If you are not resting during your off time, you will burn out. I know what it's like to run on caffeine and stress. Do not do that to yourself.
She bristled, but her eyes were still on the board when she replied, "You know because you also started teaching very young? Or you know because that's what it was like teaching while Harry was a student here?"
Leave it to Hermione Granger to see things from every angle. "Both," he rasped aloud.
Her eyes darted to his, and her voice took a low, threatening tone he had never heard directed his way. "I may have more questions later."
She always did.
Miss Granger's weak smile slowly drew up to a full grin. "Thank you, Professor – I mean, Healer Snape."
He tilted his head forward in a curt acknowledgement and then turned on his heel and left. On his walk back to the infirmary, he pondered her comment about life debts. He had the misfortune of racking up a few himself, but not all to the same person. He wasn't sure that she owed him one at all, let alone multiple.
Severus had a funny feeling that being owed such a debt was almost as bad as owing it. He put it out of his mind. If she really was going through with her apprenticeship, there would be plenty of time to figure it out.
A week later, Miss Granger came back with more questions.
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Hermione had a terrible week. It started first thing Monday, when she asked Professor McGonagall to mediate further contract negotiations with Slughorn. This effort was undermined by Minerva's attempts to be more friendly, such as the invitation to use her given name. Hermione had been flustered, and by the end of the session she had only extended the length of the apprenticeship by two months, to include the following summer break. She would still be the new Hogwarts Potions Master by September first next year. She also managed to get the intellectual property rights shifted toward her favor, but with a caveat that her idea was original and distinct from any of Slughorn's past or current research.
She felt foolish for not having asked Snape to mediate instead.
Through this first week, she worked at the castle during the day, and she went back to the burrow at night. Ron was unhappy because his Auror training wouldn't start for two more weeks, and he wished for more time with her. He said some unhelpful things about how she was already abandoning him (the nerve!) to live at Hogwarts for a year, and that he didn't want her to be stuck there teaching for the rest of her life. Monday night she was so upset about everything she had tried to sleep alone on the sitting room sofa, but the nightmares quickly sent her back to Ron's room with a soft apology on her lips and pathetic need to cling to him.
She wasn't sure how she was going to make it sleeping alone at Hogwarts during the week.
Friday dawned clear and bright, and Hermione was determined to make the best of it. She had spent most of the week preparing lesson plans, frustrated with Slughorn's approach of teaching straight out of the book. Today, she wanted to talk to Snape. He may have been a right git, but she had learned a lot more from him.
The main door to the hospital wing was wide open as usual, and Hermione knocked loudly as she stepped through. "Hello?"
He wasn't in the infirmary, but she was instantly amazed at the changes to the long room. Additional privacy screens had been put up, each one angled just right to preserve some dignity from both the other cots and the entrance door. She stepped closer, realizing that there was still a line of sight from the office door, and a clear main aisle to the store cupboards and back room.
The back room door opened, and Severus Snape stepped out, scowling.
"Sorry to intrude," she said quickly. "I was wondering if I could help brew anything for the inventory here."
He raised one eyebrow.
She could feel herself blush. "And I'd like to pick your brain, if you'd allow it."
Snape stood very still for a minute, his scowl deepening. Hermione looked away, unsure about whether she could Occlude well enough if he was trying Legilimency. She almost abandoned this whole plan for the morning, and then he finally turned away, drawing her focus just in time to see him gesturing with one hand to follow him to the back room.
Inside was his own private potions lab. Hermione's breath caught. It was small but perfect, not at all like Slughorn's lab with multiple sterile benches and everything hidden behind opaque cupboard doors. In this room, narrow windows high up on the walls let in plenty of natural light without glaring. Various herbs were strung up to dry, and a tantalizing whiff of them both relaxed and excited her. A single long workbench dominated the middle of the room. One wall contained a blackboard with various notes and lists, and every other inch of the wallspace was covered in glass-front cabinets and simple shelves. Immediately to her left, coming in the door, was the bookshelf, stuffed to the brim but for the inbox and outbox at eye level.
Snape was already shuffling through the short stack of parchments he snatched up from the inbox, and when he found the one he was searching for, his lip curled in triumph before he cast at the empty space in the middle of the blackboard.
I will work on this. You'll do that.
An underline appeared for the title of a list on the left side of the board. It was a list of thirteen potions, the first six already struck through as if they were complete. The next one to be done: Dreamless Sleep.
Hermione got straight to work on a double batch. In the space of two hours, she finished three potions from his list, and he was bottling his project at the same time she was jarring a burn paste. When she struck that potion from the list, he came to look over her results and frowned as he gestured to the extra bottle of Dreamless Sleep.
"I can pay for the ingredients," she said hastily.
He shook his head and cast at the blackboard: This should be administered, or at least prescribed, by a Healer. Is it for yourself?
Hermione nodded, and in a very small voice she admitted, "I expect to need it when I start sleeping alone."
For another long minute, he scowled and stared again. This time she met his gaze, but she had her mental barriers up, and he didn't push on them. Finally, he opened his mouth and said, just as quietly, "Come here when you need it."
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then on the exhale said, "Thank you."
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Severus spent the rest of the morning answering Miss Granger's questions about the first- and second-year curriculum, the pros and cons of a strict approach to classroom management, and his experience as a Potions Master's apprentice. He answered her questions about teaching with an enchanted blackboard on wheels, and she repaid his thorough answers by helping him with this trial run of communicating with a ward full of patients.
The questions about his apprenticeship were more personal, and he was less comfortable answering them. He summoned his thesis from the small library in the lab, and they sat down in his office so she could peruse it while he continued to work on correspondence. Or at least, he pretended to work while he watched her. She was totally focused on her task, and he was safe to consider the issue of the day. It didn't surprise him one bit that she was plagued by nightmares, nor did it surprise him that she found some comfort in being held at night.
He could use a little comfort like that. It was pathetic, really, the way Minerva had been the only one to hug him lately, for the first time in years, and it was only after she had gotten herself good and drunk and poured her heart out apologizing for the mistrust she had shown while he was Headmaster. Despite his assuring her that he and Dumbledore had intentionally manipulated that mistrust in her and everyone, she had put her arms around him and begged forgiveness, and his touch-starved body broke down to weep with her.
That was the only night since June he didn't have any nightmares himself.
However, the Dreamless Sleep potion was both habit-forming and provided diminishing returns with subsequent use. It simply didn't work on him anymore, so he was rather sensitive to the idea that someone might build a tolerance and then not have the option when they really need it. As he pondered the problem, he summoned a fresh sheet of parchment and began making some notes. An improved Dreamless Sleep would be a boon to many, and also had the scope of an apprentice's capstone project.
Then he started another sheet to document the duty hours Miss Granger spent in his domain. He wouldn't put it past Slughorn to magically monitor her presence in the dungeons and even clock her time to the minute. He would probably do the same, if he took on an apprentice any less dedicated than Hermione Granger. But the girl's dedication was never in question. Only her creativity. That's why he wasn't going to offer up the Dreamless Sleep idea on a silver platter. Not yet. She should be able to think of it herself, not least from her own pressing need.
The following week, Miss Granger moved into the castle. She did not return to the infirmary until Friday morning, exactly one week after their prior brewing session. He met her out between the cots again and glanced at the store cupboard, thinking of the Dreamless Sleep, but she handed him a small envelope bearing Slughorn's wax seal.
Severus,
Please continue to log the time Miss Granger spends working on healing potions for your inventory. I have cleared her other duties for Fridays in August.
Horace
Severus looked up and raised an eyebrow as he assessed Miss Granger. She stood very still, not giving away any nervousness. She said steadily, "You can say no. I tried to tell him he should have asked in person, but I think he's intimidated by how you say more with your glares than your words."
An odd feeling bubbled up in his gut. He couldn't quite tell... was it laughter? It felt ridiculous, like... a giggle. His lips twitched into some kind of smirk as he pushed down the feeling and thought through the suggested arrangement. It wasn't unheard of for a Potions Master to lend out their apprentice to another, and he couldn't deny that her potions were adequate. It would free up his time for more difficult cases from St. Mungo's, and she clearly didn't fear any of her former authority figures anymore.
Her eagerness and his experience could team up to get some impressive work done. Her brashness and his subtlety could be a powerful duo for making Slughorn think twice about a few things. Last week they had worked well enough together. Gone was the bossy swot who nearly levitated out of her chair with the need to prove herself. In her place was this jaded survivor who only spoke when necessary for the work or to take a dig at a lax professor.
There really wasn't a downside. Still, for her sake, he made a show of frowning at the parchment carrying Slughorn's request, but then softening his expression before he nodded.
Severus developed a routine through August, working most days simply through correspondence with St. Mungo's. On Fridays, he brewed alongside Miss Granger, who thankfully kept her inquiries to a minimum and didn't expect him to speak at all. At meals, with her at his left and Minerva at his right, he was no longer quite so anxious to shovel his food and bail out. He maybe even lingered longer than necessary, feeling secure between the two people who had done best reading his nonverbal cues since June.
The day before students returned, he caught himself wallowing in melancholy as he prepared for bed. The end of the Friday brewing sessions gave him a pang of grief he didn't understand. Miss Granger would still be nearby, but performing other duties. He would see her at meals. He could simply ask her to find another time if he really felt he needed the assistance. Hell, the girl was probably kind enough to join him socially if he dared to suggest it.
Oh fuck he was pathetic! The first woman under the age of fifty to show him some kindness, the first since Lily, and all he could think about was taking advantage of her good nature to weasel more time with her. The ache in his heart wasn't the only yearning he had developed while thinking about her, and self-loathing washed over him as he took himself in his hand. Maybe he'd feel better after a quick release. Maybe not. Either way, he wished he could call out her name without searing pain in his throat.