Company

Chapter 16: Company

The dream was vivid and memorable.

Ginny Potter made a special trip to Hermione's office for the sole purpose of reminding Hermione that Severus Snape was 'damaged goods'. As if to reinforce the point, Our World magazine came out with a special issue, dedicated to The Top Ten Social Misfits of the Year; Snape made the list at number five, causing Hermione to wonder who filled spots one through four. And more bizarre still, Ron showed up to announce that he was renaming his Quidditch team; instead of Les Torpilles, they would be henceforth known as 'Ronnie's Ruddy Raiders'. It was little wonder that Hermione awoke with a splitting headache.

At work, she glanced up every so often from her desk, expecting to find Ginny actually there to issue her warning. But there were no visitors, and Hermione plodded through a mound of paperwork and tried not to think about yesterday's visit to Spinner's End.

I don't know what to do with you, Snape had said.

Join the club, Severus, she thought dully as she stared, unseeing, at a Request for Export form. No matter how much she'd nattered on about friendship, what crossed Hermione's mind more and more was that she was actually attracted to her former Potions professor, and that he was apparently attracted to her as well.

And it also occurred to her that a good many people in her circle of friends might not look favorably on such a thing.

Hermione's plan for the evening was to re-read Snape's account of the war years. In the three weeks since he had given her the information, she had delved into it as deeply as the busy days of Christmas and New Year's would allow. What Hermione found, to her immense surprise, was that's Snape's recollections of the last Wizarding War were rather boring. Absent were any lurid details of Dark Revels, senseless slaughter, or outright debauchery. The entire twenty-page document was heavy on Who'd Been Jealous of Whom, Who'd Been the Most or Least Trusted, and Voldemort's untiring obsession with Harry. There was almost nothing of Snape's feelings – not that Hermione was surprised by this. She could picture Severus carefully keeping the lid on his emotions slammed shut as he wrote.

Although she had been disappointed at first by the surprisingly lackluster narrative, it was increasingly gratifying as her feelings for Snape warmed. Hermione was frankly relieved at the dearth of grisly, incriminating details; it would have been a rude awakening to find that just when she was beginning to appreciate the man, Snape's bad side was worse than she had imagined. Tonight, her intent was to see what feelings a re-reading of the memories would evoke.

As soon as she returned home, Hermione heated up a tin of tomato soup and made a sandwich, then spread out the parchments Snape had given her. She began to read, taking care not to drip any soup on them. But before she could make it through the first page, there was a knock at the door. Hermione cast a regretful eye at her barely-touched meal and climbed from her chair. When she opened the door, she was stunned to find her estranged husband standing in the hall.

"Ron?" she gasped.

"Hi, Hermione." Ron Weasley produced a tentative smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in for a moment?"

"Of course!" Hermione blurted, completely flustered by Ron's sudden appearance. "Ignore the mess. I was just settling down to do a bit of reading."

"This is not a mess," Ron assured her, glancing around the lounge. "I seem to recall that my messes far surpassed your messes."

"I certainly can't argue that point."

"Am I interrupting your dinner? I could come back another time."

"It's only soup and a sandwich," Hermione said, plucking several old issues of the Daily Prophet from the sofa and tossing them onto the coffee table. "Please sit down, won't you?"

Ron sat, his long arms propped on equally long legs. "I'm sorry that I missed seeing you at Christmas."

Hermione settled into the armchair. "Well, it's always a bit crazy around then, isn't it? Harry told me that you were in Britain."

"Yeah." Ron's smile faded slightly. "I understand that you heard about Celeste."

Your girlfriend? Hermione started to ask, but found that she couldn't quite bring herself to utter the words. "Ginny mentioned that you'd brought a friend to the Burrow for New Year's Eve."

Ron colored. "Phrased it like that, did she?"

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "Not exactly."

"I figured as much. Ginny never was one to beat around the bush. Look, Hermione, I'm really sorry. I wanted to be the one to break the news. I just didn't get around to it in time."

Same old Ron. "I understand."

"I hadn't planned on finding someone so soon. It just sort of... happened," Ron finished lamely, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's all right, Ron. Really." Hermione couldn't quite find it within herself to condemn him when Snape was constantly on her mind these days.

"Celeste is really nice. Believe it or not, I think you'd like her."

"More importantly, will your mother like her?"

Ron grimaced. "Let's not go there. Mum's pretty steamed about it just now."

"I know."

"Hermione, I wanted to stop by for a couple of reasons. First, I wanted to apologize for you having to find out that way. And secondly, I – uh – suppose that we can proceed with the divorce. There's no reason to wait another year, is there?"

It was a virtual admission that Ron and Celeste were more than mere friends. Hermione shook her head, thinking that it was the final, painful nail being driven into the coffin of their marriage.

"No, no reason. I'll see to filing the papers."

Ron nodded, looking frankly relieved. After a brief, awkward moment, he said, "So, how's your book coming?"

"I'm talking with a magazine editor right now. No one was interested in publishing it as a book, but he'd like to serialize it for his magazine."

"That's great. What magazine? When will it come out?"

"The magazine is called Our World. Have you heard of it?"

"No."

"It's only been publishing for about a year and a half. Fred and George tell me that it's popular with the younger crowd."

"'Younger crowd'?" Ron repeated, puzzled. "Younger than us?"

"We're not that young any more, Ron," Hermione reminded him. "I think Our World is primarily aimed at twenty-something singles."

"Hunh..." Ron contemplated the notion that there was another generation creeping up behind him.

"I could owl you a copy when the article comes out," she volunteered.

"Good. I'd like that." Another silence. "I should go, I expect."

"I appreciate your apologizing in person, Ron. I really do," Hermione said earnestly.

A sheepish smile crept across Ron's face as he climbed back to his feet. "You know me. I never had the best timing."

Just then, another knock sounded at the door, and Hermione started in surprise. She rarely had company; to have one visitor was unusual enough, but two in one evening?

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Maybe my timing's not that bad after all."

Hermione crossed to the door. "I can't imagine who this could be. I wasn't expecting anyone."

"Of course, you weren't expecting me, either," he reminded her, shrugging.

She opened the door and stared in amazement at the figure of Severus Snape.

"Good evening, Hermione." Snape spoke quietly. "Might I have a word with you?"

The phrase when it rains, it pours sped, unbidden, through Hermione's brain. "Of course," she said faintly.

Snape crossed the threshold, then stopped in his tracks as he spotted Ron. "You have company," he said to Hermione in an accusatory tone.

Ron looked equally stunned. "Professor Snape?"

Severus' withdrawal into himself was abrupt and almost a tangible thing. "I'll come back another time," he said stiffly.

"I was just leaving," Ron told him, moving hastily toward the door. "Good to see you again, Professor. Uh – Hermione, I'll – I'll be in touch."

Well, she thought as Ron pulled the door shut behind him, at least Snape's arrival spared them from eulogizing their failed marriage one final time. Hermione forced a pleasant smile on her face and turned to Severus.

"What brings you here tonight?"

"I did not mean to interrupt," he said as the crack of Ron's Disapparition sounded through the closed door.

"You didn't. Ron just stopped by to... ah..." Hermione took a deep breath before completing her sentence. "To tell me that we can proceed with our divorce."

"Oh?" Snape loaded the one word with a multitude of questions.

"He... found someone in France." Hermione chose her words carefully.

"I see. Then this is probably not a good time for us to talk."

"No, it's fine, really." She returned to the armchair, tucking her legs beneath her. "As long as you're not here with fifty absurd reasons why we shouldn't be friends, that is. Sit down, Severus."

Snape still looked reluctant, but he took a seat on the sofa anyway. "I wanted to talk to you regarding your visit yesterday."

Time for a preemptive strike, Hermione decided. "I was quite impressed by your laboratory. You have quite an efficient operation, from the look of it."

"Thank you, but you know very well that's not what I was talking about."

She was tempted to say What, then? but decided not to press her luck. "Do you have a problem with what happened yesterday?"

Snape's expression was guarded and leery. "The problem is that I don't know how to do this. Surely you have guessed by now that I have had no success when it comes to romantic liaisons."

"One kiss doesn't make a romantic liaison," Hermione offered quietly.

"Be that as it may, I am utterly abysmal at that sort of thing."

"I'm not exactly that great at it myself."

Severus shot her a disbelieving look. "You were – are, for that matter – married, Granger."

"And look where I am now," Hermione pointed out.

That gave him brief pause. "Still, it proves that you are capable of basic intimacy with another human being. What do you want from me? Sex? An escort to your Ministry functions?"

Her eyes darkened. "Do you think I would stoop to using you for convenient sex?"

"No," Snape admitted.

"Thank you. And as far as escorts go, I could certainly dredge up another male from somewhere if I chose."

"Why, then? Why me?"

"You really think that you are so hideous a man that no one would want to be with you?"

"You are a woman possessed of an uncommon amount of good sense. The answer to that should be ridiculously easy." Looking somewhat self-satisfied, Snape leaned back in his seat.

Hermione stared at him, eyes narrowed. "I frighten the living daylights out of you, don't I? Is the thought that I might like you that hard to bear?"

Snape's smug expression died an early death. "Ten points to Gryffindor for your keen powers of observation. I have seen the worst sort of dark evil," he grumbled, "and quite frankly, I find this more terrifying. I don't suppose that you'll desist in this friendship business?"

"Do you want me to?" Hermione asked simply.

Severus studied her for a long moment. "No," he said. "I find that I enjoy your friendship and your company."

"My feelings exactly. Although, if it would make you feel better, perhaps we should avoid situations where physical contact is likely."

"Such as concerts and climbing basement stairs?"

"Absolutely." The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched. "Stairways can be exceptionally hazardous."

Snape sighed. "You're going to be the death of me, you know."

"I doubt it. You've managed to survive this long. I don't see how having me for a friend could accomplish what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the entire Wizengamot failed to do."

"Then I shall possibly be the death of you."

Hermione merely smiled. "We'll see."

Severus looked briefly mutinous, but failed to mount any further objections. Finally, he spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Very well. Would you care to go to the Plaid Pony Friday night?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

"'Lovely'?" Snape repeated faintly.

"Sorry. How about 'tolerably entertaining'?"

He shook his head in disbelief, yet there was a hint of a smile on his face. "I am curious about one thing."

"What's that?"

"It's been almost four weeks since I gave you my recollections of the war, yet you've said nothing about them."

Hermione waved towards the dining room table. "I was planning to re-read them tonight. I'd just begun when Ron showed up."

"And what did you think of them?"

This was tricky; given how much she'd begged and pleaded for Snape's help with her book, she didn't want to sound terribly ungrateful. "They were – insightful," she said, knowing immediately that he hadn't been fooled.

"You're a bad liar, Hermione Granger. What you wanted were my deepest personal reflections. What I gave you was barely more than what was contained in the official trial transcripts."

"To be honest, I'm grateful that you provided me with anything."

Severus frowned slightly, studying his hands in his lap. "What would you like to know?"

"Excuse me?" she said, not sure that she'd heard correctly.

His dark eyes fixed on her lighter ones. "I said, what would you like to know? This is your chance. You may ask me anything you wish."

She stared, unbelieving. "Just like that?"

"Do you mean to say that you have no questions? One of the constants in this world is that you, Hermione Granger, always have questions. Hurry up with it before I change my mind."

The only thing Hermione could think was, I'm blowing this big time. Aloud, she blurted the only thing that came to mind.

"Why?"

Snape glared at her. "Could you possibly be more specific? If I'd known your questions were going to be this vague, I might have cooperated a long time ago."

"Why did you join Voldemort?" It wasn't the foremost question she might have posed, given ample opportunity to organize her thoughts, yet Hermione had speculated about the issue for years.

"I suspect you can guess the answer to that with little problem, can't you? I didn't fit in at Hogwarts. Voldemort accepted me and made me feel that I was appreciated for who I was."

With painful clarity, Hermione suddenly recalled her first two months at Hogwarts, and how lonely she'd been. "What else? Did you truly believe in what Voldemort stood for, or were you attracted to the aspect of Dark Magic?"

"While it's true that I was interested in Dark Magic, I did not join the Death Eaters in order to indulge in that particular sport. I simply found the subject fascinating. As for Voldemort's beliefs... I think that if one is looking to belong, it's easier to disregard certain aspects that might otherwise make one uncomfortable." Snape crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled at her. "Shouldn't you be writing this down?"

"Of course." Hermione quickly leapt from her seat to fumble on the coffee table for a Muggle pen and one of the old copies of the Daily Prophet. She settled back in her chair, folding the newspaper so that she could make notes in the blank margins. "Which of Voldemort's beliefs, in particular, made you the most uncomfortable?"

"The pureblood superiority issue. My father was a Muggle, and although I could not dredge up a shred of fondness for the man, it is true that I would not be here were it not for him. People who are so consumed by issues of racial purity rarely recall that bloodlines are weakened, not strengthened, by separation. And since Voldemort himself was not a pureblood, I found his obsession particularly ironic and completely nonsensical."

Hermione tapped the ink pen against her lips thoughtfully. "I saw your parents' wedding announcement in an old copy of the Daily Prophet."

Severus raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And how did you manage that?"

"I just happened onto it when I was doing some research," Hermione said, deciding that even the passage of time might not have dulled Snape's suspicions regarding Harry's Potions text.

The answer seemed to satisfy Snape. He began a discussion of his disillusionment with Voldemort ("The man was mad as a hatter. What's not to understand about that?") and progressed on to the Dark Lord's convoluted tactics ("He was brilliant only up to a point, and that point was when his ego got in the way of his intelligence"). An hour later, Hermione had covered the margins of several Daily Prophets with notes, her hand cramping from trying to keep pace with Snape's comments. Finally, she asked the question that had paraded around the fringes of her mind for years:

"Why do you hate Harry so?"

Severus, by this time, had stretched his legs out in front of him and was leaning back tiredly on the sofa. He shot Hermione a look of pure annoyance that quickly faded to resignation.

"The answer to that is... complicated," he said wearily. "You know that Harry's father and his friends made a continual practice of baiting me when we were in school."

"Yes." The revelation was the one thing, Hermione recalled, that had tempered Harry's near-adoration of his late father.

"There was never any love lost between us," Snape went on, "but his mother, Lily, was often kind to me. As usual, I managed to destroy a friendship before it even developed, and soon Lily despised me also."

"Were you... attracted to Lily?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

Snape snorted and jammed his hands into his trouser pockets. "Everybody was attracted to Lily. She was just that sort of girl. No, it has more to do with seeing my own shortcomings and being poorly equipped to deal with them."

"I don't understand."

"Harry was only a symbol, Granger. A symbol of everything that I might have had if only my life had evolved differently. I would look at Harry Potter and see his father, taunting me. I could see his mother, turning her back on me after I'd treated her rudely one time too many. I could look at Potter and see that his life was one constant path of successes, while mine was one long, pitiful decline." Severus managed a crooked smile. "That way, if anyone thought of me after I was dead, at least they could say that while I may have been a useless bastard, at least I died in a dignified manner."

Snape's discourse over the course of sixty minutes had left the room charged with an emotional electricity, Hermione thought. She found herself alternately annoyed with Severus Snape, saddened by his plight in life, and heartened by his attempts to make his life count for something over the decades. When she climbed to her feet – desperate to use the loo by now – the spell was broken. Snape stood as well, making the usual comments about staying far too long, and how he should really be on his way.

He didn't seem as much embarrassed by sharing personal information as exhausted from it, Hermione decided. She walked him to the door and thanked him profusely for his assistance.

"You trusted me with your private thoughts," she said, clasping one of the folded wizarding newspapers to her chest. "I appreciate it, Severus. I really do."

Snape merely nodded. "I suppose I shall see you Friday night at the Plaid Pony, then."

"Yes." Hesitantly, Hermione reached out to take one of his hands. Startled, Severus looked down at his hand, clasped in hers.

An odd expression passed over his face, then he gently tugged her closer to him and kissed her. It wasn't the awkward, cautious kiss of yesterday's visit to Spinner's End. It was a tender expression of affection, of longing, of hope.

And just as abruptly, Snape pulled away. He tried to speak, but had to clear his throat first.

"I need to go," he managed.

"I understand." Hermione nodded her head.

Severus reached out to take her hand this time and just held it, regarding Hermione's fingers with a perplexed look on his face. He could only shake his head in amazement.

"I know," she said, smiling. "You don't know what to do with me."

Severus looked her in the eye, his mouth twisting into a half-smile of amusement. "True, but I believe I'm beginning to get some ideas."