Chapter Three

When Hermione had wished she could fly without a broom, she honestly had not wished to fly completely unaided. The night on which the Order had lost Professor Moody had been too full of clouds and curses for her to catch even a glimpse of Voldemort as he had streaked after Harry, but she'd seen the faces of those who had. The story of Snape's resignation-cum-willing defenestration hadn't reached her until after the Battle of Hogwarts, but again, the story had been told with deep unease. Hermione assumed it was one of those things you had to be wizard-raised to understand, like why it was perfectly acceptable to chain a dragon up under the ground and torture it, but killing a unicorn was tantamount to butchering a baby. Flying without a broom was up there with being a Parselmouth.

Yet the more Hermione considered it, the more sensible it sounded.

Harry's questioning had made her realise that she had been given no definite parameters to complete the trial; simply that she had to be able to fly. She took that to mean she could learn a professional level Wonky Faint on a broom, giving herself and Harry palpitations in the process, or that she could simply traverse from one end of Hilary's office to the other with no other propulsion than her own magic.

Her own magic – that was the key. She hadn't been kidding when she had compared a broom to a charmed twig. No matter how good someone else's magic was, there was always the chance that it might fail her. Hermione knew and trusted her magical ability. She could feel her magic, thrumming away quietly and constantly just beneath her ribs, and had once, thanks to an experimental cupcake in Canberra, even seen it. It was real and it was reliable.

If she could find a way to fly by herself, then her future with the DoM would be guaranteed.

It was just rather unfortunate that, as Harry had pointed out, there was only one man who could help her.

Finding Snape was worryingly easy. Hermione simply joined Harry on his way back from lunch on Monday and waited in the Ministry Atrium until the crowds had cleared. As Harry had predicted, their former Professor was also present, waiting by the security booth, his dark eyes flickering over the thinning crowd.

Hermione hoped he didn't really have any evil intent, loitering the way he was, despite Harry's misgivings. Although if he were up to something, Hermione doubted he would do something so obvious as hang around the Ministry. Snape might be many things, but sloppy was not one of them.

As if able to hear her thoughts over the chatter, he looked up and caught her eyes. Hermione looked away instantly, flustered. Idiot, she chastised herself. Now he knows you were watching him. It would have seemed less strange had she simply held his gaze. When she looked up his eyes were still on her. Unlike her, Snape seemed to have no qualms about blatant staring. Hermione felt the fleeting urge to try and stare him down, just to see if it could be done. Knowing it would most likely be as pointless as trying to out stare a Kneazle, she looked away again, glancing left, then right, before crossing the busy Atrium towards him.

Half way there, she realised she had no idea how to approach him. With Harry she had simply made her blunt request and hoped that he would say yes. But Severus Snape was a different animal entirely. He had never been a favourite when she had been at school, and she was fairly certain that the dislike was mutual. It wasn't as if she could tell him why she needed to learn, either.

Although, if Harry could work it out with several years of Auror experience under his belt, surely it wouldn't take Professor Snape very long at all.

Her palms grew damp, and she could feel that awful tension in her stomach that appeared whenever she prepared to speak before a crowd.

Severus was stumped.

He had already tried speaking to Harry Potter, but the boy wanted nothing to do with him. Even when Severus did the unthinkable and offered to speak with him about Lily, Potter's son simply shook his head and walked away. Minerva's formal, stilted apology for believing the worst of him had been delivered with so much frosty reserve that Severus knew the events of the last few years would forever stand between them. The other staff at Hogwarts had always taken their lead from the Head teacher and it was no different now. The Malfoy family had offered financial support – as if such a thing was necessary – but again, there had been too many lies, too much subterfuge, for any easy friendship.

It was sad how few options that left him with.

Severus fiddled with the scrap of paper in his pocket. One little word was all that stood between him and a possible second chance within the Mysteries. Everybody knew the place was filled with oddballs and black sheep – Severus' past seemed tame compared with a few of the longer serving wizards – and that was only the few whose identity he knew. It made him hopeful.

And so he returned to the Ministry. He might try the Three Broomsticks, or the Leaky or any number of wizarding establishments, but the Ministry made the most sense. As the single largest employer of magical persons within the UK, it offered him the highest concentration of possible targets at any one time.

At least that was the idea. In truth – and Severus had lied for so long that he now made a point of telling the truth, at least to himself – it was simply to remind himself that he was still part of this world. If he failed in his task, then there would be nowhere left open to him. He had abandoned the Muggle world many years before, but not before it had become clear that there was no place for him there either.

Somewhere, amid the crowd, was his second chance.

Feeling eyes upon him, Severus turned in their direction. Their owner, a young woman in tailored robes looked away quickly, blushing becomingly. It was enough to intrigue him, and he watched as frustration, doubt and hesitation flickered across her face before settling into something approaching resolution, and she began to move towards him.

It only took a few seconds for him to place her, by which time she was almost upon him. The smart robes and elegant twist of hair were a distraction, but there was no disguising basic bone structure.

Hermione Granger.

Severus didn't realise he'd spoken aloud until she replied, "Professor Snape."

"No," he answered.

Her eyes widened. "No?"

"I am no longer a professor, Miss Granger."

She flushed. "No, of course not." Conversation ended then as she looked around unhappily, and Severus felt a twinge of annoyance, in no small part directed at himself. He tried again.

"How may I help you?"

"I..." she began, only to falter, looking miserable. "How are you, sir?"

"Well enough, thank you." When the young witch failed to reply, he tried again. "Yourself?"

"I'm very well, thank you," she answered automatically. "Can we talk?"

"Apparently not without effort," Severus murmured.

"I... I suppose I should start by apologising for not coming to see you sooner. You were still recuperating when I left, and I've not been back in a few years, but I shouldn't have gone without thanking you properly. I sent you a card. I'm not sure you would even remember."

Severus remembered. A card from a Muggleborn Gryffindor who had reason to bear him a personal grudge had been one of the reasons he had foolishly believed he might truly be allowed to move on from the dark days of war. If she had been willing to forgive, then hope was real indeed. He had wondered if she would visit, had considered carefully what he might say if she had appeared at his bedside. He would have apologised of course, tried to explain that he'd had no choice in his treatment of her, asked for absolution.

But she had never visited. No one had.

It had given him a rather bitter satisfaction to Vanish her card along with the others on the day he had discharged himself from hospital.

"The last time I saw you... well, the time before then, Luna and I were standing guard outside your office. Draco let the Death Eaters into the school, and you made us wait inside your office until it was all over. At the time I thought it was the Felix Felicis that kept us away from them, but really it was you. We thought you were up to no good."

Severus held up a hand. He'd been forced to listen to a number of similar speeches from those wishing to lessen the guilt they felt about him. At first they had given him some satisfaction, but he soon realised that they were rarely made for his benefit. "Do you honestly expect me to talk with you about that night, Miss Granger?"

"No, of course not! I'm surprised you've let me speak for this long, to be honest. I was going to ask a favour of you, but I see now I have no right. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, proffes – Mr Snape, it won't happen again. And I'm truly sorry to have believed the worst of you. I know we were supposed to, but you'd already given us so many reasons to believe that you were good. I should have trusted you."

"Wait!" he called. "Ask your favour."

"Oh!" She blushed, looking around the now empty Atrium. "It was a long shot anyway, but you see, I rather hoped... I want you to teach me how to fly."

Hermione had seen enough nature documentaries to know that when a predator became very quiet and very still, they were preparing to strike. Or they were asleep. There was nothing remotely lethargic about Snape's hard eyes as he watched her.

"Alright," he agreed.

"Alright?" Hermione echoed. "Wait, you mean you'll teach me? Just-" Just like that? It was on the tip of her tongue, but she had no wish to do anything to jeopardize this opportunity.

"Just like that?" Harry demanded. "He simply agreed to teach you?"

"I know; I was as shocked as you are! I'm supposed to meet him tomorrow morning to begin our lessons."

"I'm really not comfortable with the idea of you going to his house, Hermione," Ron said. "I know it's not my place to say anything, but this strikes me as a bit suspicious."

"Oh, me too!" Hermione agreed. "But we're meeting at the Ministry. Apparently they have rooms you can hire for meetings and conferences on the ground floor. I'll be within hexing distance of the Aurory the whole time."

"I wonder what he's up to." Harry frowned.

"Maybe he misses teaching?" Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe he's genuinely trying to become an approachable, helpful person. Maybe this is who he has been the whole time, but we never got to see it because he had to act like he was Voldemort's man."

"No, he might have been stressed to breaking point, but his dislike was honest enough. Maybe it was only ever focussed on me. Who knows? If I hadn't been there, he may actually have liked you two."

"Not me, mate." Ron grinned. "After Percy and the twins, there was no chance he was ever going to look kindly on a Weasley. Even Ginny used to get up his nose." He glanced at Harry. "Oh, sorry mate."

Hermione caught the pained expression on Harry's face. "Things still difficult between the two of you?"

"They would be if she stayed in the country for longer than five minutes. The Harpies are touring South Africa at the moment."

"She was under the impression that Harry might be going with her," Ron explained.

"But I can't just up and leave my work for weeks at a time." He sighed. "She used to get annoyed that I worked so hard towards becoming an Auror, but I think she convinced herself that things would calm down once I had finished my training. Then she thought I might take it easy once I secured a promotion, but I can't just stop doing my job properly. Being an Auror, it's... it's what I do."

"You've always had a bit of a saving people thing," Hermione agreed. "But Ginny's known that since you saved her when she was little. Surely she knows people don't just change, even if the war has ended?"

"Exactly," answered Harry. "Which is why I'm less than thrilled about Snape simply agreeing to help you."