Hell Hath Frozen Over

A huge, huge, HUGE thank you to Keladry and especially to my newest beta, Subversa. Thank you, my dears, you are both amazing and I couldn't do this without you!

Enjoy!

Chapter 1- Hell Hath Frozen Over

Five years later

Tip tap-tap. Tap tip tap, tip tep tap.

Click click.

"Bloody hell, what do you mean fatal error? All I did was double click!"

Tap TAP TAP. DING DING DING DING.

"Work, you damn machine!"

Laughter followed her outburst as the young sales clerk came into the room from storage, levitating a large box in front of him. He set the box to the side where he was stocking and organizing textbooks. "You know, it sounds like more trouble than it's worth, Hermione."

She did not bother to glance up from the computer screen where she was watching the infernal hourglass button flip over yet again as the computer struggled to open up a large program. "Indeed, but it does offer a little bit more organization, don't you think? You saw those ledgers left behind by the old manager."

"True, but is it really worth it to keep arguing with the thing?" Luke asked, splitting open the packaging tape. "Surely you could come up with some type of spell or charm to do the cataloguing. I mean, you are Hermione Granger."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, Luke," she said, smiling softly, "but I like staying connected to my Muggle roots as much as possible."

"Or maybe a charm or counter-jinx to fix the computer."

Hermione shrugged as the program she wanted finally opened. If only the previous owners of Flourish and Blotts had known the glories of a Muggle cataloguing system...they didn't even need a computer for it...then things would have been much easier when she had taken over ownership a few months prior. Hermione abhorred disorder; when she had moved in, so had the computer she'd charmed to work in Diagon Alley, along with an expensive cataloguing system fit for the task of going through decades of misplaced literature.

The computer had helped a lot since then, though, allowing her to regroup the entire three stories of store...including the mildew-ridden basement...into semi-organized sections of textbooks, general purpose, and her personal addition to the store: Muggle literature. Of course, she did most of the data entry; Luke worked at a snail's pace, typing in information and scanning barcodes. Apparently, wizards could rattle off any number of difficult spells, but the instant they were faced with this new task of typing, they could not help but wonder at the foreign Muggle technology. Often times it meant getting no work done at all. Even Arthur Weasley had heard about the addition to the store and had made a special visit, despite his busy schedule, to see the Muggle contraption. He had then monopolized it an entire day trying to understand the purpose of a mouse, and why exactly it was called a "mouse." Apparently, saying that it looked like one did not explain it thoroughly enough for him.

Nonetheless, what mattered now was not the fact that Hermione had to fight with the computer; it was that she had a rather busy bookshop to run, and the new school year was set to begin in only a few weeks. Hogwarts letters would be sent to families soon; she and Luke, her sole employee, would be inundated with children both anxious and reluctant to start another year at Hogwarts. In addition, with new legislation from the Ministry that mandated primary school for all magical children over the age of six, younger brothers and sisters would be coming in to get their own basic school books.

The Department for Magical Education had only been created three years ago. Hermione had been overjoyed to hear that the Ministry was finally taking an actively beneficial role in updating the magical educational system in England. Other countries' ministries had yet to catch on, but dipping test scores and complaints from the educators at Hogwarts had made it evident that something had to be done. The Ministry's answer was the creation of magical primary schools dotting the United Kingdom where magical children would learn from qualified professionals, rather than leaving their pre-Hogwarts education up to parents. Muggle-born children were left out of this mandate as they already were required to attend primary school through the government of the United Kingdom, and would still only learn of their abilities by a visit from a designated witch or wizard before admittance to Hogwarts.

In addition, this opportunity also served as the perfect career for those who were born Squibs. No magic would be done at the schools: only reading, writing, arithmetic and very rudimentary book knowledge on subjects that would prove beneficial later in Hogwarts life.

This also allowed a tired Minerva McGonagall to resign her position of headmistress to oversee the Department and this venture...she seemed to enjoy the community outreach more than continuing to drum information into unreceptive minds. As she had been responsible for a good deal of the original legislation to begin with, it had only seemed natural for her to take the position when it was offered to her. Hermione had questioned idly whether Professor McGonagall had accepted to ensure another Dolores Umbridge could not happen. After all, there certainly was no other teacher at the school who had despised Umbridge more. While Minerva ruled with an iron fist, she was certainly fair and would be able to handpick her replacement when she retired.

Yet, Hermione could not but speculate for a little bit about her former professor's intentions, especially when she heard who would be the new Headmaster at Hogwarts. Truth be told, Hermione had nearly fainted when she read the article in the Daily Prophet. Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to put Severus Snape in such a position of power? Sure, he was a capable educator, if a little frightening at times. Yes, he was a war hero. He had, indeed, redeemed himself to the rest of the world. But in charge of discipline? Soon enough, he would be holding regular public beatings of Gryffindors and allowing the stringing up of Hufflepuffs by their thumbs.

"Are you cold?"

She glanced over at Luke, startled at his intrusion. "Huh?"

"You just shivered," he pointed out.

"Oh, no, not cold." Hermione shook her head and chuckled guiltily. "I was thinking about what sort of new tortures the new Hogwarts Headmaster would instate."

Luke laughed. "How did you even get there from computers?"

"Don't question how a great mind works," she said with a small smile.

The front door creaked open slowly, and the tiny bells jingled to alert them of someone entering the shop. It had been a slow week thus far...the calm before the inevitable storm...so any customer was welcome, at the moment, to break up the monotony of the day. Hermione stood on her tiptoes and leaned over the tall counter, peering around the shelves blocking her view of the door to see who had come in. There was a young girl standing in the doorway and gazing around the store with bulging eyes, as though she had never seen something so lovely in her life and had no idea where to start.

"Well, hello there," Hermione called, smiling. It was not every day that a child came to the bookshop with an expression as if she saw Elysian Fields ahead of her.

Dark blue eyes found Hermione's brown, and the girl smiled sheepishly, her porcelain cheeks tingeing a faint pink. "Good day, miss."

Hermione glanced over at Luke, who was now watching the customer with some interest. He chuckled and shook his head. The child inched over to Hermione warily, her proper dark robes moving about her ankles. Completely straight, satiny black hair ruffled slightly with the air passing by her ears. Hermione thought the girl looked a bit like a miniature Morticia Addams, from that silly Muggle program she saw once, but her face was still fairly unfettered by any other characteristic besides winsome naïveté. Nothing about the girl gave the impression that she was not well-cared for...as a matter of fact, she looked to be a child with absolutely no worries except, perhaps, where she had misplaced her doll...however, it was a little odd that someone so young was left to her own devices in Diagon Alley. Even though there was no Dark Lord threatening death at this point, it certainly was not safe for her to be unaccompanied.

"Where are your parents, love?" Hermione asked.

"Father is at the apothecary's, miss," she said.

And her manners were without doubt some of the best Hermione had seen lately.

Hermione moved around the end of the counter and glanced out the far window toward the apothecary shop and the movement inside. She lowered herself down onto her haunches so that she would be eye-to-eye with the girl and smiled again. "My name's Hermione. Yours is?"

"Thea, miss," the girl responded.

"That's a pretty name," Hermione said.

Thea giggled quietly with a soft, infectious sound. "So is yours, miss."

"You can call me Hermione if you like," she urged. "I don't like my last name... it makes me feel... old."

And as though she was being scolded by one of her former professors.

"Father says I should always address others with their title, except for him and my friends."

Hermione could not keep the smile on her face from growing larger. Yes, this child was certainly a product of a true wizarding family and clearly had been taught to act much older than her young age.

"As well you should," Hermione said. "Then call me Miss Hermione."

Thea nodded in agreement and blushed again.

Hermione laughed lightly and stood to her full height. "Can I help you find anything, Miss Thea?"

"I don't know." Her voice sounded as though she were overwhelmed. She shrugged her tiny shoulders and glanced back from the stacks to Hermione. "This is the first bookshop I've ever been to, Miss Hermione. Father says I will need school books, and that is why we came to Diagon Alley. He said he would help me when he finished at the apothecary's shop. But I'm supposed to pick out some of my own for fun."

"May I ask how old you are, Miss Thea?" Hermione questioned.

"I'm five, Miss Hermione. Father says my sixth birthday is in..." She paused to count on her stubby fingers, but it only seemed to be a show of what her father might have done to explain how many days remained. She stopped at ten fingers and said, "Twenty-one days."

She had never really been around children much throughout her life, with no younger relatives, but since Ginny and Luna started popping children out at a swift pace, Hermione had fallen in love with them. How could she not fall in love with the cute, bogey-nosed little faces, endless hugs, and the endearing things they said? Granted, when the children were tired or misbehaving, Hermione had a more ambivalent feeling toward the very young ones, but she still found them irresistible. So irresistible, in fact, that her biological clock had started ticking almost two years before, when she had looked after five-month-old Caroline Potter, her goddaughter and Harry and Ginny's firstborn, for a weekend.

It was nothing more than a menace now, tick-tick-ticking all the damn time and whenever it bloody well chose, serving as a constant reminder of wasted years such as when she was breaking up with Tristan. At least it had not been a problem before then...or she would have never realized the relationship with Dean Thomas was going nowhere.

"You seem very smart for being six years old... can you read already?"

Thea nodded. "Yes, miss. But Father still must help me sometimes. And he reads for me when I go to bed at night."

"Well, what do you like to read? Fairy tales? Fantasy? Princesses in castles?"

"Oh! Do you have fairy tales? Auntie Minerva once gave me one for my birthday," Thea explained.

The mention of Hermione's former Transfiguration professor and frequent correspondent startled her a bit. Since when did Minerva have siblings so young that they would still have a daughter this age? It seemed highly unlikely to Hermione that Thea was related to the venerable woman, but then again, one could never tell. "Well, what does your father usually read to you?"

"His own books. Last night he read one about something called flubberworms."

"They're flobberworms," Hermione chuckled lowly, "but that certainly doesn't matter. We need to get you some proper reading material."

Hermione stood up and stuck her hand out, Thea's tiny hand curling into hers without a second thought. In a matter of minutes, Thea and Hermione were chest-and-knee deep, respectively, in various texts from the "Kid's Korner." There were tales of witches and wizards, faraway places, princesses, knights, and even girls walking through mirrors and being transported to a different world. Thea clearly was enjoying herself and was unable to decide on exactly which book she wanted the most. Hermione had encouraged her to come in for the monthly story time she led for children, but Thea had said her father would not bring her back repeatedly, so Hermione had dropped it. It definitely would not do if Thea's father came in and was immediately badgered by the young child about coming back. Said father most likely would avoid the bookshop like the plague after that.

It had not occurred to Hermione that she should question who the girl's father was, until a dark shadow fell over the duo with their heads bent over a stack of books. Hermione was explaining to Thea what the book called Cinderella was about when she first noticed the shadow. She glanced to her side at a pair of fine dragon-hide boots and followed the well-tailored black robes up to a face she had little desire to see.

"Miss Granger," he inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I must say I'm not quite surprised to find you here, but I had thought you graduated to more advanced literature by now."

She frowned deeply and rolled her eyes. It would seem ten years had not changed the man at all, except that he did not sneer as profoundly as he had back when she had been his student. He had changed physically a bit, though, or so she noticed as she quickly stood up and smoothed her own robes over her abdomen in an effort to look presentable. That morning had been comprised of working in the dusty attic, and she knew she was not up to the high standard the man most obviously employed. He had it ten years ago, even when he was not nearly close to meeting it himself. Lord only knew what his expectations were now that he had a little bit of wealth and power, not to mention he no longer had to worry about spying and keeping himself forgettable.

Now that she was fully able to look at him, she had to admit that he appeared quite attractive. He skin was still a bit sallow, but it looked healthier, perhaps from better nutrition and a bit more weight on his bones that plumped the previously sharp, hawkish features. He now wore a short, trimmed goatee about his mouth that drew away from the large proboscis centered on his face; some silver mingled in the short black whiskers and extended to a few silver strands at his temples. Vanity obviously had never plagued him, as he wore the silver proudly pulled back into a tail of longer hair at his neck. Walking by him on the street, Hermione knew she may not have recognized him. For all she would have known, he could have been some well-to-do lord with his aristocratic (dare she say handsome?) features, not her former Potions master who had looked down that hooked nose when he was scolding her and had to brush back oily strands of black hair so he could peer at her with those unforgiving obsidian eyes.

The biggest change, perhaps, was that he appeared visibly unburdened, quite unlike he had been back during the war. Perhaps that was why he looked so different now.

"I'm helping a customer, thank you," she said with an imperious tone. "To what do I owe the dubious pleasure, Professor?"

"Ah, Miss Granger," he said again, the left corner of his lips tugging into a ghost of a smile. "I do believe it should be, 'To what do I owe the dubious pleasure, Headmaster?'"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Father, do you know Miss Hermione?" asked the small voice at their side.

Hermione's eyes darted down to the small girl and then back up to the tall man. Back and forth she went until realization dawned on her. Now that she really looked, they had the same hair and skin. Thea had the characteristic bump of the Roman nose as Snape did, though hers less prominent. The shape of her eyes was the same, though blue. Thea was lean and stringy as he was. How could she not have made the connection before?

Because you would have never thought Snape had a kid... even in your wildest dreams.

"As a matter of fact, I do, Thea," he said and looked at the girl. "Miss Granger was once a student of mine, ten years ago."

"Eleven," Hermione reminded him.

Thea let out an excited yelp. "You knew Father before I was born?"

Hermione nodded, suddenly unable to find any words to accurately describe her shock. Thea was Snape's daughter, but nothing seemed out of place as far as Thea was concerned. The girl was a typical little girl, well cared for and without a worry in the world. How could Snape raise such a child when he was such a sadistic bastard himself? They were polar opposites. Thea was too sweet to have such a parent. There was no possible way... and who could he possibly have gotten drunk enough to sleep with him?

Where was the mother?

"Luke!" Hermione called anxiously, turning away from the dark-haired pair. She walked briskly toward the storeroom where he had disappeared a little while ago. A head of golden hair popped out and looked at her questioningly. "Will you help Thea find her school books, please?"

Luke dropped whatever he had in his hands behind the door as he nodded his head in agreement. He paused, though, on his way over to help and gave Hermione the once-over. "What's got you so tense?"

Hermione nodded toward the father and daughter now discussing book selections.

"Is that...?"

"Yes," she said. "Professor Snape. Excuse me, Headmaster Snape... and his daughter."

"His what?!" Luke questioned in a half-shriek, drawing the attention of her customers to them.

Hermione felt the fierce blush on her cheeks spread to her throat. "Shhh! And yes."

Luke glanced back at the duo. "That's so not fair."

"What isn't fair?"

"That kid means he's getting laid. And if he's getting something, then why am I not able to get anything?"

Hermione pursed her lips together in frustration and placed her hands upon her hips. "Men! I swear."

Luke laughed good-naturedly and clasped her shoulder in friendly reassurance. "I'll go help them."

She mouthed a 'thank you' as he walked away. Her anxiety was not so much that she feared her former Potions master and Defence teacher, but the fact that she knew she would not be able to trust what came out of her mouth pertaining to Thea. The last thing Hermione wanted was to act like a petulant child around Snape's daughter. Hermione retreated to her work at the till counter and was absently clicking buttons on the computer screen when the dark shadow fell over her again.

"Do I still intimidate you?" asked the deadly, gravelly voice.

"No," she said quietly. "It was just a shock about Thea."

"Is it so hard to believe that I have a child whom I love and care for?"

Hermione looked directly into his eyes. "Yes, it is."

He sneered and nodded his head. "I see."

Hermione did not reply, and the silence grew awkward.

"What, no rebuttal?" he asked, a brow rising in challenge.

She shook her head.

"I can't say I blame you," he replied nonchalantly, picking up a book on display and flipping through it absently. "I still find it hard to believe myself."

His admission was not expected; Hermione had to make sure this was still the man who had once done everything in his power to expel her and her friends from Hogwarts. It just couldn't be the same man... not with the way he was acting. Awkward silence filled the air between them again, and she began tidying up her already tidy work area, arbitrarily moving things to another position at the counter. It was a few moments before she realized he was watching her movements with an amused smirk.

An idea crossed her mind. She stopped in her tracks and met his forbidding eyes once more. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I do believe this is a bookshop, and my daughter was in need of her school books."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I also know that the Headmaster or mistress of Hogwarts pretty much lives in the castle all year round. And if that is so, then Hogsmeade was a fairly short walk away, with an apothecary and a bookshop for your needs. There was absolutely no reason to put your child through a Side-Along Apparition to bring her to Diagon Alley. It's out of the way. You have an agenda for coming all this way, and your greeting told me that you knew you'd find me here. So, this leaves me to believe that you, a) came just to see me, which is highly unlikely because you detest me, or b) there is something dire that requires my help, which is why you are stalling because you cannot bear to ask for my help."

"Are you finished?"

"AND you obviously know my weaknesses with children because you brought your daughter with you. It's hard to miss the stupid gossip stories in the Prophet about me toting around the Potters' daughter. She's my goddaughter, by the way, so that's the reason why I was with her if you're questioning me."

His lips cracked open slightly in a half-sneer, half-smile that was incredibly uncomfortable at best. "I do not care why you were with her. What I do care about, though, is why a reasonably intelligent witch, with all the world at her feet, ends up peddling books in a bookshop on Diagon Alley. Naturally, when I learned of this, I had to ask myself why you had destined yourself to such a life. Miss Granger, you have master qualifications in Potions and Arithmancy from the elite Glastonbury Magick Academy, including various lower qualifications in Transfiguration, Astronomy and Herbology. You dabbled as a mediwitch for some time after your stint at the Academy. When Weasley was named Minister, he offered you a rather lucrative position within the Ministry, and yet you turned it down. Then the Potters bought you this derelict bookshop and here you are, selling fantasies to five-year-olds."

While it was not surprising that Snape knew all of this information about her, it did make her wonder whether he had been privy to an intensive file on her from the Ministry, or had been keeping tabs on her since she left Hogwarts. The latter was a tad unsettling.

"I like what I'm doing, Snape," she barely got out through clenched teeth.

"Are you happy you're neither married nor have children of your own?"

Hermione frowned. "You're one to lecture me on happiness, Snape. Have you even had one happy moment in your life?"

"A few," he responded shortly, but did not elaborate. He straightened his back and looked directly at her then. "I see bandying words is not going to work with you. You prefer the direct approach."

"I don't like subterfuge. Not as much as you do, anyway," she replied.

His lips pursed into a thin line. "You will be glad to know I do not readily participate in much of that any longer."

"You're Slytherin, sir. You'll always be like that."

"Touché, Miss Granger," he said quietly and shifted his weight on his legs to lean against the counter and watch Thea discussing her book purchases with Luke. "Your boyfriend?"

Hermione scoffed. "No, my employee. And why would you care?"

"Because personal attachments might make why I am here difficult for you to consider," he explained.

"I'm not sleeping with you."

Before the remark had moved through her seven-second filter, it was out in the open, and she was receiving a rather appalled look from the severe man in front of her. Why did she even think that? Surely he had a wife, if he had a child. Hermione felt the intense heat of a blush flush her face as she closed her eyes tightly and let out a slow, low sigh.

"Still can't hold your tongue." He shook his head and clicked his tongue menacingly across his teeth.

"I'm sorry... I just... you must have a lovely wife to have a girl like Thea."

He gave a derisive snort. "Wrong again, Miss Granger. I have no wife, neither have I ever been married nor even in a semi-committed relationship. Thea is a result of something that happened in a weak moment. Such a moment will plague me for the rest of my life."

"Hmph. Nice to think about your daughter that way."

"However, this is not what I came here to discuss. My intention was to offer you something."

This piqued her interest. "Offer me what?"

"As you know, I am now Headmaster at Hogwarts, and being such, I will no longer be teaching classes. Because of this, I will need someone adequately qualified in Potions to teach. The applicants for the position, thus far, have been unsurprisingly second-rate. As I am sure you are aware, I do not appreciate any educator unable to brew even the simplest potions. That is where you come in, Miss Granger. With your education and experience in potion-making, you seem the best candidate for the position."

Her heart leapt. "No."

A dark brow arched to his hairline. "Refusing before I even tell you the terms of your tenure?"

A professorship? Potions?

"I'm not insane enough to take on a position that was once your lifeblood, sir. As though being in your Potions classes weren't stressful enough with you breathing down my neck and scolding me all the time for helping Neville, I couldn't imagine working for you."

"You're not necessarily working for me, but for the Ministry."

You don't want to work for him!

Hermione pursed her lips together in a tight line. "I have a bookshop to run."

"Full tenure, Gryffindor Head of House, and most likely, Deputy Headmistress. No one seems to want that task, either, with me as Headmaster."

"So that's what this is all about?! You're reacting to all the acrimonious backlash from Arthur and Minerva choosing you as Headmaster? You need someone who is loved by the rest of the Wizarding community. Someone who was a war hero. Someone who's Harry Potter's closest friend without being Harry Potter."

Snape sneered. "My, you certainly do think highly of yourself."

"I think you're awfully full of yourself to walk in here and expect me to jump at the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts. Did it ever occur to you that I enjoy where I am? That I never wanted to teach? I'm not like you, Snape. I'm happy with friends and family and a cozy little flat over my bookshop, where I can inspire the imaginations of thousands. I don't need riches and power and everything else," Hermione explained.

He seemed vaguely impressed by her passion, but continued to appear skeptical as his dark eyes narrowed inquisitively at her. Damn him anyway! It was obvious that he sensed the gears in her head, turning relentlessly since he had mentioned the opportunity. But damn her if she was going to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he understood her that well.

Luckily, though, Luke and Thea made their way over to them and sufficiently broke up the tension. Hermione smiled as pleasantly as she could. "All set?"

Thea nodded. The cost of the books was totaled, but Thea was begging her father for a second fairy tale. Snape clearly was not having it, quite incensed after everything that had played out with Hermione in the past few minutes. He told her to choose between Cinderella and Snow White. Hermione, taking pity on the girl, handed both books back to Thea. Snape had the girl's other school things reduced in size and was placing them in a pocket inside his robes.

"But I don't know which one, Miss Hermione," said Thea with tears in her eyes.

"Keep both of them, love." She smiled. "And happy birthday."

"You shouldn't encourage --" Snape began, but Thea was already around the counter, throwing herself at Hermione with her arms outstretched.

Hermione could not help but laugh at the reaction and peeled the girl away from her hips. "You should never deny a girl a book when she wants it, Snape. And she certainly needs better reading material than the Encyclopaedia of Flobberworms."

"Say thank you, Thea." Snape sneered at Hermione.

"Thank you, Miss Hermione!" The girl skipped back toward her father, both books in her hands.

"Good day, Miss Granger."

Before Hermione could say anything else, the black robes were swishing out the shop and the wooden door slammed a little too harshly, rattling the windows.

"What was that all about?" asked Luke.

Hermione shook her head. "Hell hath frozen over."