Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Severus paused in the small, dingy square outside Grimmauld Place. Minerva had explained to him that Hermione – Miss Granger – was the one who had saved his life. Two weeks had passed, and he'd been discharged by Poppy last night. After retrieving his old robes, Severus had prepared to go see Hermione. Miss Granger. Just to see her. Thank her. Try to woo her, foolish as that was. But he had been Happy in his dream, capital letter. He'd never even been happy, with or without a capital letter, before.

He had paused now, because for the first time in two weeks, he realised that it had all been a dream. A good dream, but a dream none the less. His Hermione might look like the real Hermione – Miss Granger – but she wasn't her. The real Hermi – Miss Granger – was likely to be the same insufferable, hand-waving know-it-all he could remember from classes. There was no reason at all to pursue her. He would be better off just turning around and never seeing her again. He'd have the recollection of his Hermione to keep him content. Or at least he could wank to it.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he paced in the square, drawing curious glances from passing Muggles. Unknown to Severus, several of them looked around, wondering if someone was shooting a scene for a vampire film. No cameras could be seen. It seemed the man with deathly pale skin had dressed up in black robes just for the fun of it. Odd. They shook their heads and moved on.

Severus turned away from the house, then he turned back. Straightening up a little, he breathed deeply. He would go over, knock at the door and say 'thank you' to the girl. Nothing bad would come of that. If he could tolerate her company for the few minutes he planned on staying, he would seek out her company again. The worst that could happen was that she'd turn out to be horrible, or she'd slam the door in his face. In that case, he had the memories of his Hermione to comfort himself with. If all went well, he could be happy in real life too.

This wasn't a line of reasoning that would have occurred to Severus Snape just a few weeks ago, but then, he hadn't dreamed a whole life with a lovely witch just a few weeks ago. He hadn't survived the fall of a dark wizard ruining most of his life a few weeks ago. Severus knew how to be patient. He knew how to observe others and coldly calculate the best way to influence them. He knew how to bide his time and plan an event to the letter. He knew how to leave behind all shelter and brave everything for a cause. It was Hermione – his Hermione – who had told him that those qualities were very adaptable. In fact, they were excellent for wooing a witch. Now he would use them to capture Miss Granger, if she was worth having.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he crossed to the door and knocked firmly.

Mrs Weasley opened the door and gaped. Severus Snape was outside her door. Strictly speaking, the house belonged to Harry, of course, but while the Burrow was being rebuilt, they all lived here. She thought of them all as her responsibility. Severus Snape was outside her door.

"Mr Snape!" she blurted. She'd tried to call him 'Severus' while he was in the Order, but he was such an uptight man. It seemed more natural to use his last name.

"Molly," he acknowledged, her name sounding awkward on his lips.

"Severus," she corrected herself. Here she had a hero on her doorstep. A sour, snide hero, but that was hardly important. She should be nice to him. "I'm pleased to see you've recovered. We were worried for a while. When Minerva sent word that you were awake again ..." She let the sentence fall. They had been happy, all of them. It was simply hard to actually celebrate the stiff man.

"Thank you," he replied, unusually polite for him. "I heard about Fred. I'm very sorry."

Molly gaped like a fish, her mouth opening and closing several times. She clutched at the door handle, her brain unable to believe that Snape could be ... civil. Polite.

"I'm here to see Miss Granger," he continued when it became obvious that Molly was unable to speak.

This time her mouth closed with a snap. Her eyes bulged a little as she looked at him. "Well ..." She moved out of his way, motioning for him to come inside. Severus Snape here to talk to Hermione. Well, well. She wondered if he had come to thank her for saving his life. Or if he'd come to chastise her for saving his life. Either way – if he wanted to see Hermione he could.

"Children?"

The word was perhaps not the most correct in a room where most of the 'children' in question were over seventeen. Ron scoffed silently at the word. Ginny openly rolled her eyes and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, kissing him until the boy blushed like a tomato. The smirk she afterwards aimed at her mother's back told Severus that she was feisty. More feisty than Ron by far. Not that it was a feat.

Over by the table Hermione – Miss Granger – had spread out a copy of the Prophet and was reading it while twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. Severus swallowed the urge to step up behind her and bend down to kiss the nape of her neck. Nuzzle her neck. His Hermione had liked that.

"Professor Snape would like a word with Hermione," Molly declared, making five heads snap up. Ten eyes stared at the doorway, barely able to make out Severus in the dim hallway. He wore black for several reasons, blending in with the shadows was just one of them. Ginny just looked mildly puzzled; she shifted slightly where she sat on Harry's lap. Harry looked torn between embarrassment and respect, a rather new sentiment for Severus to be met with. George looked sad. Just sad. Ron looked ... well, Severus had never been able to see anything but stupidity on his face. He looked stupid: mouth open and staring. Severus found himself wondering how Molly and Arthur could have produced six seemingly intelligent children and one idiot. And why Hermio – Miss Granger – had to be friends with the stupid son.

Fred and George, while presenting him with a headache more often than not, were undeniably smart. He had perused their products and found several new items of value. He would never have admitted it, but he was impressed. Of course, his favourite item was a figment of his imagination: The Voldiesnort. A new line of party–decoration shaped roughly like Voldemort and doing a variety of actions ranging from an embarrassing to a crude nature. Severus would never have let himself be seen dead near one of the ludicrous things, but he did have to hide a chuckle every time he saw one.

Miss Granger herself just looked expectantly up at him. She seemed puzzled but not alarmed.

"I'm glad to see you're better, Professor," she said. The voice was undeniably the same, just like his Hermione. The words were not. His Hermione would never call him 'Professor'.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely over a whisper, "I'm glad to see no lasting harm has come to you. There were enough losses."

She looked surprised.

"I merely wanted to thank you for saving my life," he forged on.

This time she blushed. "Oh. It ... I ... anyone would have done that," she babbled.

"Still. Thank you. I owe you my life, it seems." He gauged her reaction. The blushing might be good. And at least she didn't seem to be afraid of him, or worse, repulsed.

"We were just about to eat lunch. Why don't you join us, Severus?" Molly asked.

He was about to decline. He had really only come to see if Miss Granger might have any potential for turning into his Hermione. It seemed she did. So now his plan had been to leave. But then Her – Miss Granger – smiled. Not at him, she just smiled and he found himself thanking Molly politely, saying that it had, indeed, been a while since breakfast. If it would be agreeable he would like to eat with them. It stunned him as much as it did the rest of them. Not the politeness. Did they imagine he sneered at Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters? Sniped? Of course he knew how to be civil! He merely couldn't be bothered, most of the time. But now he had a cause. It was like a mission, really. Mission: his Hermione.

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After a while of being angry with himself for not sticking to his plan, Severus decided that staying for lunch might be a good thing. Now he could breach subjects he would – had, had dreamt, at least – of discussing with his Hermione. If Miss Granger turned out a disappointment, he'd be saved a second visit. Time-saving, really. Practical.

"Well, in the first edition by Brage, it says that you should add a little flick," Severus said without batting an eyelash. He had slipped more difficult subjects into a conversation unnoticed. It wasn't hard. At all.

"Really?" Molly asked, clearly interested, "And what are the effects?"

She was, however, the only one paying attention. George stared at his food as if it was a heap of week-old rubbish. Ron stuffed his mouth at an impossible speed and seemed to be gulping it down more like a snake than a human. Severus firmly looked elsewhere, disgusted. One didn't woo a woman by offending her idiotic friend, so he kept silent. Ginny had snuck her hand into Harry's lap and smiled deviously while playing with the poor bloke's assets. Severus hid a smirk. The girl clearly knew what she wanted and how to get it. Potter didn't stand a chance.

Hermione was, in his fantasy, supposed to have piped up by now. Best give her some time. He gave a detailed explanation, including the part he had argued – discussed – with his Hermione. Still nothing.

"Miss Granger?" he prompted, "Do you think he's right?" This was the time where she'd start telling him that Elianor Humphrey had claimed Brage was a sloppy researcher, and rightly so. Hermione had been right, to his great annoyance. He hated being wrong, but she'd also been a worthy partner in their discussion. That he had liked.

"Er –" She looked startled, "I can't say, Professor. I've never tried to change the spell, and while I've heard of Brage, obviously, I've never read anything by him." She turned a little pink, probably because he had asked a question she didn't know the answer to. It would be a first – in her recollection – but she stood her ground regardless.

"I see," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. Hermione Granger might very well spend most of her time with her nose buried in some book, but she was still only nineteen. He could hardly expect her to be as widely read as he was. And perhaps, I might actually like to introduce her to new topics, new books, his new-found, sloppily romantic side suggested, the side desperately yearning to be happy again.

Molly started cleaning the table, and Severus prepared to leave. There was only so much company he could expose himself to in one day, even for a cause. He would come back. While not exactly like his Hermione, Miss Granger reminded him enough of his fantasy that he wanted more. She certainly looked a lot like his Hermione, a little slimmer, but she'd been on the run for months. In time, she'd gain more weight, more roundness over her hips, surely? A rounded, soft belly rather than the flat one revealed by her too-tight sweater over jeans.

"Thank you for the meal, Molly," he said smoothly. Polite. If Miss Granger continued to live with the Weasleys, he wanted to make sure that he was welcome. Beings That Had To Be Endured, as simple as that. He had endured Voldemort. Anyone was better than that nutcase.

"Oh, you're welcome, Severus," Molly replied warmly. She no longer slipped up and wanted to call him 'Snape'. She had decided that Severus had probably just been sour before because he had been under constant stress. And who could blame the poor man? To live as a spy for decades! No wonder he had been tightly wound. Now that the war was over he'd relax. Already Molly was starting to sort through female acquaintances to find a suitable witch for him. The man was positively pleasant now. He deserved to be loved. Maybe Mrs Teal would do? She was very nice, divorced from that drunken husband of hers. But she already had three children. Severus Snape didn't really strike Molly as the sort of man who'd like to have three children about, whether he now seemed nice or not. Someone without children then ... hmm.

She could indulge in these musings for so long because Severus himself was staring, horrified, at what was going on next to the table. It wasn't Ginny darting furtive glances at her mother while she insistently tugged Harry off up the stairs towards a more private location that horrified him. Miss Weasley could shag Potter into the next century if she wanted. He was no longer their professor, thankfully, and could mind his own business.

No, what horrified Severus Snape enough that he remained frozen for what seemed like hours was the sight of Miss Granger – Hermione – kissing her idiotic friend. Hermione Granger kissing Ron Weasley. It made Severus nauseous. He also wanted to grab the girl by her arm and haul her off with him. Once in private, he'd yell at her until she saw sense and then proceed to show her what a real man was like. Not that little whelp. Maybe he'd spank her too. That was one thing his Hermione hadn't agreed to. Now that he knew she had been a figment of his imagination, that struck him as odd. Why, if he had imagined her, would she refuse something he liked? Why would she be annoyingly bossy, obstinate and prone to sulking? And why the heck had his brain seen fit to toss in her two annoying friends? What good was a fantasy if it wasn't perfect?

"Good day," he managed stiffly before hurrying out.

The sight of Hermio – Miss Granger – kissing Ron Idiot–Boy Weasley was burned into his mind. She most certainly would not do for his Hermione. Absolutely not! His brain had clearly still been addled from his coma, his ability to reason muddled by the snake venom. Now he could see clearly, and Hermione Granger most certainly wasn't worthy of him at all. The memory of her might be good for an occasional wank, but that was it.

Having determined this, he Apparated to his dingy home in Spinner's End, firm in his resolve to avoid other people for awhile, and to find himself a new job. He did not want to teach dunderheads again. Ever.

"Hell no," he muttered sourly, sinking into a well-used old chair. It squeaked as he put all his weight on it and his bum sank further down than what was comfortable. He would fix it come tomorrow. Right now he would pour himself some Firewhisky and mope – think – oh, what the heck. Mope.