VI

As January closed in a bluster of snow and wind, February and March ushered in an unusual amount of rain. Day after day, it pissed down relentlessly with no end in sight. However, the nasty weather did not dampen Hermione’s spirits in the slightest.

Repeated trips to the library to prepare material for her students reignited her passion for learning. Once this work was done, she found herself lingering ever longer over the latest research journals. She was particularly fascinated by Mortimer’s work in combining Arithmancy and Charms and had in her spare time begun to repeat and expand upon his experiments.

Additionally, ever since that fateful day at the playground, she and Professor Snape had lapsed into regular companionable repartee whenever they were in one another’s company. However, she had yet to ask him the true significance of the date and location of their journey. She was no dunderhead and knew he would impart that titbit when he was good and ready.

On the Ides of March, Neville dared to tempt the fates and asked Hannah to be his wife. She readily accepted, and many of the castle’s occupants were jubilant at the news. Hermione’s thoughts immediately turned to the professor’s portrait. Now seemed like as good a time as any to approach Neville about an idea that had been stewing in her brain for several weeks. Neville was patently saddened but ultimately relieved by her suggestions, agreeing it would suit everyone involved.

Excited and pleased with herself, Hermione rushed to Neville’s apartments and hoped the professor would share in their sentiment. When she burst into the bedchamber, the professor raised a painted hand to forestall her, expecting a soliloquy.

“I am well aware of Longbottom’s engagement, Granger. No need to recount the details. I’ve been forced to listen to him practice his proposal for months now,” he said sourly.

Hermione sat down on Neville’s bed to catch her ragged breath. “That’s not why I’ve come.”

“Well, girl, don’t dawdle. Out with it!”

“I … ” she trailed off, feeling odd-footed and unsure of how to proceed. Taking a deep breath, she squared her jaw and began again. “I would like it very much if you came to live with me, Professor. Neville’s to be married soon, and it would not do to have you lurking about. I don’t think poor Hannah could manage you when you are at your best, let alone your worst,” she joked fondly.

Severus’ hawkish features were fleetingly transfigured with amazement at her request before his mask of cool detachment returned once again. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Granger. I don’t like you; you don’t like me. I merely tolerate you for Longbottom’s sake. Again, I’ll reiterate what I said once before, since your feeble Gryffindor mind cannot seem to grasp the concept: you don’t know me at all.”

In a show of sincerity and true camaraderie, Hermione approached him and pressed her ink-stained hand to the seemingly velvety-smooth surface of the canvas, hoping to break through his many layers of practiced indifference honed, no doubt, through years of cruel treatment and disappointment. Quietly she uttered, “Everyone starts out as strangers, Professor. When all is said and done, it’s where we end up that counts.”

Surprising them both, Severus tentatively returned the gesture, placing his hand palm to palm with Hermione’s. While she knew it must have been her brain’s attempt to rationalise the situation, Hermione was certain she felt distinct warmth radiate from his hand to hers.

Gazing at him in wondrous awe, Hermione whispered, “I’m beginning to think you might have an affectionate nature, sir.”

A rare smile breached his countenance. “I just might, though I am loath to admit it,” he said dryly. “Did you really mean it?” His voice was a hoarse whisper, his vulnerability on his sleeve.

“Every word,” she confirmed with conviction.

Severus snorted and rolled his eyes. “Very well then, if I must.”

Hermione burbled with laughter. “One could interpret that as an indication of an inclination toward friendship. Are we friends?” she asked, hope flowing within every ounce of her being.

Severus raised an ambiguous dark eyebrow. “It’s a mystery, one which I daresay I shall look forward to sorting out over the course of time.”