I Knew a Phoenix

A/N: Happy Monday, everyone. :) I just wanted to thank you for your continued readership and reviews. Every one of them is a joy, and I'm slowly catching up on answering them all.

A few people have asked, so I wanted to confirm that Denial is 33 chapters in length. I will continue to upload two chapters every week.

LB

There'll be that crowd, that barbarous crowd, through all the centuries,

And who can say but some young belle may walk and talk men wild

Who is my beauty's equal, though that my heart denies,

But not the exact likeness, the simplicity of a child,

And that proud look as though she had gazed into the burning sun,

And all the shapely body no tittle gone astray.

I mourn for that most lonely thing; and yet God's will be done:

I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.

- W. B. Yeats, His Phoenix

***

Hermione woke on Sunday and wondered, for a moment, why she felt so ill-at-ease. It took a few seconds before the fog of sleep cleared and she remembered the events of the previous evening. She buried her face in her pillow with a groan. Her anger at Theo had calmed overnight, but she was mortified at the memory of what she'd said to Severus. She had not spoken to him again following their conversation in the laboratory except to say goodnight, and she could only imagine what he must have thought of her shameless behaviour.

She could hardly believe it. She might as well have just gone ahead and told him that she fancied him. What must he think of her? She wondered what might have happened if she had stood her ground instead of walking away. Would he have told her that she needed to behave more like an employee? Had she angered him? Embarrassed him? Or, perhaps, flattered him?

With a sudden burst of energy, she threw back her duvet and headed for the shower, realising as she went that she was the very worst kind of hypocrite. She had spent the week before condemning Cordelia Mill and her extra-marital affair, only to turn around and flirt with her former professor.

Tossing her pyjamas to one side, she stepped beneath the spray and scrubbed as though she could somehow wash away the humiliation. Her wedding ring caught her eye, and she held it before her, wondering if that moment of daring had been precipitated by her annoyance at Theo. Theodore bloody Nott. The thought of him made her frown. Had he just had a one-night stand or did he have a girlfriend? She decided a shopping trip to Diagon Alley was in order: she might need more Murtlap tentacles in the weeks to come.

She lowered her gaze to the thin, silvery scar just below her thumb. Never once had she thought to hide it from Severus, and in a way, she was glad she hadn't. She had long admired those long, slender fingers of his, and the memory of his touch upon her skin was something to be filed away and treasured. But work on Monday was going to be dreadfully awkward, and for the second week in a row, she wasn't sure that she wanted the weekend to draw to a close.

But draw to a close it did, and as she walked across Kensington Square to work on Monday morning, Hermione tried to think of something to say; some topic of conversation that would divert attention away from what she had said.

A magpie landed right in her path, stabbing frantically at something between the cracks of the paving stones. As she approached, it spread its wings and rose with an irritated cry into the air. The sight of the bird's outstretched wings reminded her of the Thestral Patronus and made her smile: She had found the perfect subject for conversation. In her anxiety on Saturday night, she had not thought to ask him about the Patronus that had come to usher her to the party.

When she pushed open the door to the laboratory, Severus was already at his workbench, the flame beneath his cauldron lit. He looked up and met her gaze with an arched eyebrow, and she wondered again what might have happened on Saturday night if she had stood her ground.

"Good morning," he said, still watching her.

"Good morning, Severus," she replied, knowing her cheerful tone sounded forced.

Laying her journal on the bench, she crossed to the shelves and picked out her ingredients for the morning, her curiosity about the Patronus genuinely piqued.

"Severus?" she began. "You know the Patronus that was sent to summon Lance and me on Saturday night?"

"Yes," he said, and she could tell by the hesitancy in his voice that he'd hoped the question would not be raised.

"Was it yours?"

He didn't answer, and she laid her ingredients out on the desk before turning to face him, determined not to let him evade the question. "Was it yours, Severus? The Patronus?"

"Of course it was mine," he snapped. "I told you I would send my Patronus when the guests had arrived."

"When did it change?" she asked.

He put down his pestle and mortar with a bang and turned to face her, gripping the edge of his workbench. He shot her a look of unmistakable warning. "What do you mean?"

She swallowed nervously. "Your Patronus used to be a doe, and now it's a Thestral. I just wondered when it had changed. Although it's not unheard of, it's still unusual for a Patronus to change, and I've never heard of anyone having a Thestral as their Patronus."

He resumed his work with a grunt. "I'm unsure when it changed. I had little need to cast a Patronus for some time, and when eventually I did, two years after the Dark Lord's defeat, it had assumed the form of a Thestral."

She could tell by his flat tone of voice that he didn't want to be questioned further, but she couldn't resist. "I remember reading somewhere that only the powerfully magical have the ability to conjure a Patronus that takes the form of a magical beast."

He uttered a short, derisive laugh. "Are you hoping to goad me into a full confession by your flattery, Hermione?"

She felt her cheeks grow warm. "I'm just curious, and I was not trying to goad you."

"Always bloody questions," he said with a shake of his head. "Have you ever known anyone's Patronus to change form?"

"Yes. Tonks's Patronus originally took the form of a rabbit, but it changed to a ... a wolf."

"And why did it change to a wolf?"

"Well," Hermione said awkwardly, "because she loved Remus, I suppose."

"Touching, isn't it?" he spat.

She watched him for a moment, wondering what he was trying to insinuate. If Tonks's Patronus had changed because she had fallen in love, did that mean his had changed because he had, at some point, stopped loving Lily Evans?

"I would choose your next question very carefully," he said, darting her a glare. "There are certain lines of inquiry along which I refuse to be drawn."

She frowned at him. "Do you find me unbearable, Severus?"

"Yes," he mumbled, though she could see he was trying not to smirk. "But I knew exactly what I was letting myself in for, having suffered your presence for so many years in the classroom. I have only myself to blame."

"Why a Thestral, Severus?"

"Don't you think it rather suits me?" he asked. "After all, I do believe you described me as 'the quintessential black character'."

"Yes, but why not a raven, or a panther, or maybe a python?"

"A python?" he said, looking up at her with wide eyes. "I might have been Head of Slytherin, but don't you think after the events of the final battle I might have lost my fondness for snakes?"

She groaned at her own stupidity. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid and insensitive thing to say. But still, Severus. Why a Thestral? Why an animal that is associated with death?"

He put his stirring rod aside with another sigh. "Perhaps I did it subconsciously, just to spite Albus Dumbledore," he suggested. "His Patronus was, after all, a Phoenix: the animal most associated with life and regeneration. He would have been most displeased at my having a Patronus so closely connected to death."

"Are you suggesting we have the ability to choose our own Patronus?"

"Not consciously, but subconsciously, perhaps," he said, folding his arms.

"I still don't understand the Thestral," she continued.

"Why are Thestrals believed to be unlucky?"

"Because you have to have seen death in order to see a Thestral."

"Precisely. Bearing that in mind, why might a Thestral become an intrinsic part of someone's personality?"

She frowned for a moment. "Because they almost died?" She the familiar throb of guilt that always came when she remembered how she had left him for dead in the Shrieking Shack.

"That is my theory," he said with a nod. "If you will forgive the rather poetic drama of it all, I believe that if one must have seen death in order to see a Thestral, if one has touched death, maybe one's Patronus becomes a Thestral."

She looked at him for a minute, confused. "When you say, 'touched death', does that mean you had what Muggles term a near-death experience?"

A frown creased his brow, and she could tell she had touched another nerve.

"I suppose you could term it a near-death experience," he said.

She gasped. "Did everything go all misty? Did you speak to someone? Did you have a choice to go on or to come back?"

He looked surprised. "Misty? Why do you ask such questions?"

"Because Harry had a near-death experience the night of the final battle, when Voldemort struck him with the Killing Curse. Everything went misty, and when he awoke he was in a train station, and he spoke with Dumbledore. He had a choice: to go on or to come back."

"I see," he said, looking away, a strange expression on his face.

"Was it like that for you? Did you speak to someone?" Hermione asked, her questions frantic in her sudden interest.

"That, I'm afraid, is not up for discussion."

"But if your Thestral theory is correct," she said, her mind racing, "why hasn't Harry's Patronus become a Thestral?"

"Perhaps his near-death experience has not had a profound effect on his life," he suggested, "as, perhaps, mine has."

She shook her head. "I'm not so sure. He changed after that night, and I think almost dying had a lot to do with it."

"Perhaps it was because there was no reason for his original Patronus to change."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Does that mean your feelings had changed sufficiently to change your Patronus from a doe?"

"My feelings?" he hissed, clearly angry. "Have you absolutely no idea when to draw the line, girl? Would you like me to just extract my heart and soul and lay them bare for your dissection?"

She looked down, knowing she'd gone too far. "I was just..."

"Curious," he said sarcastically. "Such a goddamn Gryffindor."

"Severus," she said, determined not to let him bully her. "Why do you have to fly off the handle like this? You can be so bloody infantile sometimes. Can't you tell that I am not trying to dissect you out of curiosity? I'm just trying to understand you, because I would have thought by now it's fairly obvious that I actually give a damn!"

"Did you just stand here in my laboratory and call me infantile?" he asked in a tone of disbelief.

"Yes, I did," she said. "You don't scare me, Severus Snape; I'm no longer a first-year." She folded her arms and glared at him.

He returned her glare and mimicked her posture. "You think the fact that you give a damn gives you licence to interrogate and insult me?"

"No, I don't. I didn't mean to insult you. You just drive me mad with your waspishness."

"Well, you drive me mad with your prying," he growled.

They continued to glare at one another until he finally uttered an irritated grunt. "Might we return to our mutual tasks?"

She nodded and returned opened her Potions journal, determined not to get upset.

"Silly girl," he muttered under his breath.

She glanced up at him, but saw that a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Silly man," she whispered.

"Your timing is appalling," he drawled. "Your contract is up at the end of the week and must be reviewed."

He left his workbench and crossed to the storeroom. She watched as he disappeared from view and wondered if he was really considering terminating her employment or if he was toying with her. He emerged a moment later, and the sound of a Mozart Symphony filled the room.

"That's the first time you've ever played Mozart," she said

"Indeed," he said. "You can't seem to control your curiosity, so let us see if you can curb that maddening humming instead."

She shook her head. He was such an infuriating bastard. Even if it killed her, she was determined not to hum.

They fell silent for a time, absorbed in their tasks. An hour passed before she spoke again.

"If you should feel the need to fire me," Hermione said quietly, "just know that I've had three of the happiest months of my life."

He looked up. She grinned at him and added, "Despite the fact that you're the most difficult man I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

He smirked. "Well, Hermione Granger, if you should feel the need to resign, just know that I've had three of the most entertaining months of my life, despite the fact that I've never met a more aggravating witch in all my years." His expression grew serious. "But should we both decide to continue, I'd like you to be aware that the topic of Lily Evans will never, ever be up for discussion."

She nodded her understanding and returned her gaze to her bubbling cauldron. "I'm glad your Patronus is a Thestral, Severus. It suits you," she said.

He did not reply, but she could tell he was pleased.

***

Five days later, Severus sat behind the desk in his study. Anyone watching would have assumed his gaze was fixed upon the trio of little girls playing with their father in the square below, but he stared with unseeing eyes, his attention on the matter of his Potions assistant.

A freshly drafted contract sat before him. A permanent contract. But he hadn't yet decided whether or not he would offer Hermione such a legally binding position in his business.

In all honesty, there was no reason why he should not keep her on. With the exception of the morning she had almost added the Basilisk bile to her potion, she had demonstrated her abilities as a highly competent Potions mistress. What was more, she had a clear instinct for business.

She had impressed him of late. He recalled the night of Lance's birthday party: She had handled both her physical pain and her spouse's infidelity with great strength, and the memory of her remark to Cordelia was enough to make him smirk. Her ring had burned on two subsequent occasions while she was in the laboratory. She had Summoned the Murtlap essence from the storeroom and had continued her work with her right hand, her left hand submerged in the yellow liquid until the pain had passed.

"Is there anything I can do, Hermione?" he had asked on the second occassion, gesturing to her ring hand. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"No, thank you," she had replied calmly. "I'm growing quite accustomed to it, and the Murtlap essence helps."

"Have you tried to contact Theo?"

"I sent him an owl on Sunday morning after the party. I put a Tracing Charm on the letter, so I know he destroyed it without reading it. I've no intention of contacting him again."

They had fallen silent for a few minutes until Hermione had extracted her hand from the bowl and had glanced at her watch.

"Impressive," she'd said with a smirk. "Twelve minutes, this time. Either he's improved, or he's using an endurance potion."

Her attitude to what was potentially an embarrassing and distressing situation had surprised him. He admired her strength, and while he had gazed at her small, white hand on Saturday night, and had traced the thin, silvery scar with his thumb, it had occurred to him that he no longer minded that she knew. The memory of Lily Potter no longer hurt him, and although he had no wish to talk about that long, painful part of his life, the fact that Hermione knew about it did not now anger him.

The words she had said when he'd finally released her hand from his grasp that night..."I was just afraid that if you continued for much longer, I'd never want you to stop."...had left him breathless with their daring. Had she not turned and walked away from him, had she remained standing before him with that flirtatious smile upon her lips and that hungry expression in her eyes, what would he have done? His imagination had provided many colourful answers, and his fantasies of what might have been revolved around entangling his hands in her fragrant hair and pinning her to the stone walls of his laboratory with his eager body.

He was aware of the stirrings of desire below his navel and wondered why he couldn't find the motivation to seek out a meaningless affair with some nameless, discreet witch. There was no doubt that a liaison with Hermione Granger would mean untold complications in his life. Although he did not care to admit it, she had become more to him than a colleague, more even than a trivial object of lust. A romantic involvement with Hermione would come with a great deal of emotional strings attached, and Severus Snape did not care for emotional attachment.

It was almost three o'clock, and Hermione was due to arrive at any moment to discuss the renewal of her contract. Suddenly desirous to be away from the familiarity of their surroundings, he rose from his leather chair and tossed his cloak onto the window seat as he passed. Dressed in his customary black coat and trousers, he descended the stairs and left the house. Closing the door behind him, he leaned casually against the moulded frame of the door and awaited Hermione's arrival.

***

Hermione had dressed with great care that morning. It was a typically muggy summer's day in London, and she'd chosen her favourite pair of jeans and a white, lacy summer blouse. Slipping her feet into a pair of sandals and her wand into her back pocket, she left the house and crossed Kensington Square. She spotted Severus waiting by his front door and smiled; everyone in London was dressed for the agreeable weather with the exception of Severus Snape. She swallowed nervously as she crossed the road. She very much hoped that he was about to offer her a permanent contract, but he was not always predictable, and she wondered if she had overstepped too many of his boundaries in the past three months.

She smiled hesitantly as she climbed the steps. "Going somewhere?" she asked. "I thought I had an appointment to see you at three."

"Indeed you do," he responded. He glanced up and down the road and offered her his arm. "Come with me."

"Where?" she asked, bewildered.

"Somewhere more neutral."

"Why?"

He gave her a penetrating stare. "I think it's about time we had a more open discussion, and I do not wish to have it here."

Hermione's heart began to pound. An honest discussion? "But where are we going?"

"Don't you trust me?" He proffered his elbow once more.

"Of course I do," she said, linking her arm through his and trying not to let his proximity affect her.

He turned on the spot, and she closed her eyes as they Disapparated, hating the nauseating feeling of compression. Before she even opened her eyes, she could smell the salty tang of sea air, and she shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. He released her arm, and she opened her eyes. They were standing on a grassy hilltop, a few feet from a jagged cliff that fell to a churning, grey sea. The sky was overcast and the temperature was much cooler than in London.

"Where are we?" she asked, frowning at the unfamiliar landscape.

"Guess," he said.

She looked about. "Scotland?"

"West of Ireland," he said. "The Dingle Peninsula, to be precise."

She gazed around her once more. "I've never been to Ireland." She turned her scrutiny to Severus. "Why are we here?"

"I desired a walk," he said with a shrug. He noticed her shiver and conjured a thick, grey cloak. "You are cold," he said, handing her the cloak and averting his gaze from her cold-hardened nipples as they strained against the sheer fabric of her blouse.

She accepted the cloak from him and flung it around her shoulders, following in his wake as he turned and strolled along the cliff top. Now that her bare arms were warm, she quite liked the feel of the damp grass against her sandal-clad feet.

He glanced sideways at her. "Do you truly wish to continue in my employ, Hermione?"

"You know I do," she said.

"Why?"

She considered her answer for a moment. "Because I enjoy the work; I'm thrilled that you've begun to allow me negotiate my own contracts; the salary is more than adequate ... and, to be honest, I ..."

He watched her from beneath his black hair, enjoying the flush of her cheeks. "Yes?"

"I enjoy your company. I'd miss you if I didn't get to work with you." She stared resolutely at the grass, not risking a glance at him. He remained silent, and she began to panic. "I know I probably drive you completely nuts, Severus, and if you feel you don't want me around, I promise I'll understand. I know I have a tendency to babble, but I'll try to improve ... I thought I had improved, really, but I can try harder not to, you know ... babble all the time ..."

"Hermione," he said.

"Yes?" she said, finally finding the courage to look up at him.

He put a finger to his lips. "You're babbling now."

"Yes, I know. You make me nervous sometimes."

He stopped in his tracks, and she almost ran into him.

"Why do I make you nervous?"

She held his gaze, hardly daring to breathe. He folded his arms and remained still, awaiting her response.

"You just do," she said, stepping around him and staring at the grass once more as she walked.

He caught up with her, and they walked on in silence.

"Do you think we've gotten along well these past few months?" he asked eventually.

"Yes," she said. "Better than I would ever have thought possible. Don't you agree?"

He slowed his pace and stopped, his gaze on a diving cormorant. "Yes, I agree. I think we have, for the most part, behaved ourselves."

She stood next to him. "I think we've dealt with a number of issues in a perfectly adult fashion," she said with a smile.

He uttered a short laugh. "I suppose we have." He turned and frowned down at her. "But there are some issues we continue to avoid and that is, perhaps, as it should be."

She met his stare and wondered if he meant Lily Evans, the night he'd taken Dumbledore's life, or their increasingly obvious mutual attraction.

"Do you truly think it wise that we continue, Hermione?"

She swallowed rapidly. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't," she said.

He broke eye contact with her once more and looked out at the grey Atlantic. "If you're certain this is what you want, the position is yours for as long as you care to hold it." He took a small piece of parchment from his pocket and enlarged it with a tap of his wand. He handed it to her. "You may take it home with you to consider the finer points. It is rather a more complicated contract than the previous one."

She opened the first page of the contract and began to read.

"Please do not attempt to go through it now. It is seventeen pages long and requires detailed scrutiny before you sign," he explained.

"But the title page says 'associate', not 'assistant'," she said, confused.

"If you choose to accept, you will no longer be my assistant. This is a contract for a permanent associate. You will have sole charge of your own contracts, and you will keep sixty per cent of all the profits you secure over the next three years. After that time, should you still wish to continue in the company, you will become a full partner."

She gaped at him. "Sixty per cent of my contracts?"

He crossed his arms. "I thought that was rather generous. Even with your current portfolio of clients, it should ensure your salary is at least doubled."

She shook her head. "You misunderstand me, Severus. I'm not complaining; I'm overcome. That's more than generous, but I don't understand why you would do this. What have you to gain?"

"I thought more responsibility would be of benefit to you. As for my personal gain, I've little patience for brewing such potions as Skele-Gro. I would appreciate if you were willing to continue to undertake the more mundane jobs, and in return, I will give you control of some of the more interesting contracts."

"I ... I don't know what to say, Severus. This is so much more than I'd hoped for ..."

"It will require a lot more effort on your part. You've proven yourself capable of negotiating with our clients. Now that I know you to be trustworthy in the laboratory, I will be spending each Monday away from London, in order to liaise with our customers. I suggest you spend one day each week doing the same. Friday, perhaps. There are a number of desirable contracts currently in control of other Potioneers, and I would like to have secured a number of these by the end of the year."

Hermione was still stunned. "You really consider me worthy of such a position? Of being your associate?"

He gave a curt nod. "I would not have made such an offer if I did not think you were worthy."

She was so touched that she felt tears come to her eyes. "Thank you so, so much, Severus," she said hoarsely. "I know you dislike tears, but I'm afraid I'm close to crying."

Before he could reply, she launched herself at him and threw her arms around his neck. He stiffened for a moment, but as he allowed the floral scent of her perfume to wash over him, he relaxed and patted her on the back. She finally pulled away from him with a sigh.

"I don't know how I will ever thank you," she whispered.

"There is no need," he assured her, feeling awkward. He had not expected such a physical demonstration.

As she removed her arms from around his neck, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek.

He had to stifle the groan that rose within him as she pressed her warm lips to his skin, and he closed his eyes. Her mouth only lingered for a second, and when he opened his eyes once more, she stepped away from him and Disapparated with a resounding crack, leaving him to stand alone on the cliff top, gazing at the horizon and absentmindedly fingering the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him.

***

***

Six weeks later

The first six weeks of Hermione's employment as Potions associate passed in a blur of paperwork. Her brewing duties had not really grown, not yet, but now she had to complete her brewing within four days and spend the fifth day visiting her clients and petitioning new customers. She was left with barely any time to work through her contracts, dispatch invoices and write brewing timetables, and she often found herself bringing her paperwork home with her and working until midnight by candlelight.

She certainly wasn't complaining; she enjoyed having sole responsibility for her contracts, and the increase in working hours meant she had little time to focus on the void that the breakdown of her marriage had left in her life. Her Saturday mornings were filled with contracts and invoices, and the rest of her weekends were spent with her parents or her friends. In fact, the only drawback to her new position was that she saw less of Severus.

They both spent one day a week away from the laboratory, and as a result, she did not see him from the time she left on Thursday evenings until they both returned on Tuesday mornings. That was four entire days without him. She felt her heart sink every time she bid him farewell each Thursday, and the weekends had never seemed so long.

Things had changed between them. In the past six weeks, they had not argued or had a single heated exchange. Not once had he snapped at her, and she hadn't once asked him about his past. They were on their best behaviour, behaving like true professionals, and although the atmosphere in the laboratory was pleasant, she missed the occasional intimacy of their early days at work. Since the day she had kissed him on the cliff top, it was as if some unspoken agreement existed between them; as if their mutual attraction was permissible, but that it was not to be acknowledged or acted upon.

She lived for Tuesday mornings, and she knew she wasn't alone. Severus was always in the laboratory when she arrived, and where he had previously muttered a greeting in the mornings while he continued to brew, he now put aside his work and took a few minutes to converse with her. She couldn't quite define it, but something in his dark eyes, some small sparkle told her that he was as glad to see her as she was to see him. He had even, once or twice, bestowed her with a genuine smile rather than a smirk.

Much to her dismay, Cordelia hadn't hosted a single dinner party since Lance had turned one-hundred-and-five, leaving her with no opportunities to see Severus at the weekends. But this weekend was different: Each July, Cordelia hosted a ball in aid of St. Mungo's in her magically enlarged ballroom. The attendees usually included a delegation from the Ministry of Magic, senior Healers from the wizarding hospital, the Hogwarts staff and the cream of wizarding society.

Hermione had mixed feelings about the ball: she was excited at the prospect of seeing Severus outside of work, but she dreaded being asked about Theo, and she'd never really liked dancing. She had spent two weeks searching for an appropriate gown and had finally found a flattering set of sky-blue robes. Padma had insisted on coming over for the afternoon in order to style her hair and apply her makeup, and she was determined to look her best.

She smiled at Padma's reflection in the large, ornate mirror they'd propped up on the kitchen table.

Padma returned her smile with a sigh. "I've never come across anyone with hair as thick as yours, Hermione. It'll take me half the day to get through all this frizz."

Hermione gave her an apologetic glance. "What time do you have to be back to feed the babies?"

"They're not as hungry as they used to be, so I'm free for the next three hours. As long as I don't go leaking everywhere, I'll be fine."

Hermione chuckled. She'd been around breastfeeding mothers long enough by this stage to have lost her squeamishness. "Thank you for doing this, Padma. I'll be much more relaxed tonight if I don't have this mane of fluff to worry about."

A comfortable silence fell as Padma worked through Hermione's hair strand by strand, applying a glob of Sleekeazy's, and then using her wand to charm the hair into sleek waves.

"How are you getting on at work?" Padma asked.

"Not too bad, thanks. I've a lot more work to do now, but it's a much more interesting job, and a lot of my clients are nice people. I was dreading the whole wining and dining aspect to it, but it's okay."

Padma grinned. "Any nice eligible wizards?"

Hermione laughed. "Alas, no. Half of them are women, and most of the rest are nice old gents. I've only met one wizard our age, an Austrian guy, and he's happily married with two little boys."

Padma stopped for a moment and looked at her in the mirror. "Don't you get lonely, Hermione?"

She shrugged. "I haven't had time to get lonely, and I have Severus to keep me company at work."

"I can't believe you actually get along well with Snape. He was so mean to you at school. Don't you still resent him for it?"

"No, not at all," Hermione said honestly. "After all, I did steal from his stores, set his cloak on fire and knock him unconscious. And he hates constant questions, so I must have been the student from hell."

"What do the two of you talk about?"

Hermione puzzled over this for a moment. "Everything and nothing, really. Work, Potions journals, the Mill family, London ..."

"Does he ever talk about Dumbledore?" Padma asked curiously.

"No. He rarely mentions him at all. There are a few topics of conversation that are strictly off the agenda." She gave a sudden gasp. "Sorry," she muttered. "My ring's burning. Would you mind getting the Murtlap essence from my dressing table, and I'll get a bowl?"

Padma left to get the bottle of yellowish fluid, and Hermione took a glass bowl from a cupboard. Padma poured the strained solution into the bowl and watched as Hermione took her seat before the mirror and submerged her hand in the liquid with a sigh of relief.

"That's better," she said.

"How can you be so calm about it?" Padma asked, shaking her head. "If it was Dean, I'd want to hunt him down and hex his testicles off."

"It's funny, really. I expected it would upset me, and although it did at first, it doesn't bother me anymore. The pain is bearable with the Murtlap essence, and I couldn't care less what Theo is up to, to be honest. It's not like you and Dean; I never loved him."

"But how long is this going to continue, Hermione? He's been gone for almost half a year. What if he never comes back? You can't sit around waiting for a divorce forever. You're only twenty-five; you're too young to be an old maid. You need a man."

Hermione looked at her in the mirror. "But I'm still married."

"And you might be still married for the rest of your life unless you go and hunt Theo down. Even then, he might not grant you a divorce. What are you meant to do? Be celibate for the rest of your life? Don't get me wrong, Hermione; I don't approve of adultery in normal circumstances, but these are not normal circumstances. Your husband has abandoned you and is clearly prepared to shag any witch within his reach. I'm not saying you should do it just because he is, I just think you should be free to have a relationship if the right man comes along."

"You really wouldn't think badly of me if I had an affair?"

Padma shook her head. "Not with the way things are. If you wanted to have a relationship, you'd get nothing but support from me. I want you to be happy."

"Thank you," Hermione muttered, moved. "I've thought about it a lot these past few weeks. I'm still not comfortable with the idea of meeting someone else. It's just ... it would still feel like cheating, somehow. Maybe I'll get over that in time."

"You may have no choice but to get over it in time," Padma said. "You can't live a loveless existence forever. You're just not made for it; you have too much affection to give."

Hermione frowned. "Practically every man in the country is married, though, thanks to the Marriage Act. Where am I meant to find someone?"

"I've thought about that. You'll have to find someone in similar circumstances or meet a nice Muggle." She grinned at Hermione in the mirror. "Dean has a very handsome cousin."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had no interest in Dean's cousin, and the only man she wanted was certainly in similar, loveless-but-married circumstances.

Her ring stopped burning a few minutes later, and then they concentrated on her hair and make-up. They were almost finished when there was a loud knock on the front door. Moe was at Cordelia's house, helping with the preparations for the ball.

"Are you expecting someone?" Padma asked.

"No, nobody. Just ignore it."

There was a second, more forceful knock on the door.

"Where's your house elf?"

"She's helping Cordelia get ready for the ball," Hermione said.

"I'll get it," Padma said, putting down her want. "Stay where you are and do not move. Your hair is almost perfect."

Hermione listened as Padma thundered up the stairs and opened the front door. She could make a masculine voice, and as the voices grew closer, she realised it was Severus and smiled.

"Hermione," he said, inclining his head as he followed Padma into the kitchen. "Forgive my intrusion, but according to my wife, it's of vital importance that I fetch three cases of wine from your cellar for tonight's festivities. She has, by all accounts, secured Lance's consent."

"Go ahead," Hermione said, grinning. "Padma and I are almost finished. Do you need any help?"

"No, thank you. Cordelia has enlisted the help of Moe and a few of the other family house-elves who are due to arrive soon. After that my life may thankfully be my own once more." He made his way to the small wine cellar in the corner of the kitchen.

Hermione sat back, and Padma worked on the final strands of her hair.

"How did you get on with the Felix Felicis on Friday?" she called to Severus.

"Perfectly well," he answered from the cellar. "I've already sent it to the client."

He emerged from the small room with three wooden cases of wine Levitated before him. "Might I use your fireplace to Floo these across the road? I cannot Levitate them across the square as there are some Muggles in the park."

Hermione nodded, and he sent the cases through the fireplace, dusting off his robes when he was finished.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Hermione asked.

"No, thank you. I'm required across the square." He stopped when he reached the table. "How was your trip to St. Mungo's yesterday?"

"It went very well," she said, suddenly smug. "They accepted the contract for the Blood Replenishing potion."

"At the price we had agreed?"

"I lowered the price by ten per cent," she said.

He scowled. "You lowered it by a full ten per cent without prior consultation?"

She grinned at him in the mirror. "I lowered it on the condition that they drop their contracts with Prunella Wellsworth and give us sole responsibility for their potions outside of their own laboratories."

Severus looked thunderstruck. Prunella Wellsworth had been his biggest rival since he had started his business. "They agreed?"

Hermione nodded, incredibly pleased with herself. "They agreed. We are now the only Potioneers with whom they do business."

His expression of astonishment slowly changed to a satisfied smirk. "Let me guess, you dealt with Healer Thwaite?"

"Yes! Have you met him?"

"Many times," he said. "But it would appear he has something of a penchant for young, female Gryffindors."

Hermione uttered a mock gasp. "Are you suggesting my success had more to do with my gender than with my abilities?"

"I'm sure it was an irresistible combination of the two," he concurred, still smirking. "I'll ensure that a bottle of champagne is set aside tonight in order to toast your success. Now, I must leave. I bid you both good day."

Hermione smiled as he turned and left the room in a flurry of black, her eyes following the reflection of his retreating form in the mirror. She raised her gaze to Padma's face, and then her smile faltered. Padma had one hand on her hip and was frowning at her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Padma shook her head and put a finger to her lips. When they'd heard the slam of the front door, she put down her wand and took the seat next to Hermione. Hermione turned to face her.

"Not him, Hermione. Not Snape," Padma whispered.

Hermione blushed. "What do you mean?"

"I know I've spent the past hour trying to talk you into finding a man, Hermione, but not him. Not Severus Snape."

She struggled for a response. "What? Padma, what are you talking about?" she said, trying to look innocent.

"Oh, Hermione, come on," Padma said impatiently. "I've known you long enough to be able to tell when you like someone. I wondered, over the past few months, if there was something to it...you barely talk about anyone other than Snape these days. But seeing your interaction with him proves it."

"Of course I talk about him...I see him more than anyone else!" Hermione insisted.

"Hermione ..." Padma said, glaring at her. "You positively glowed from the moment he entered the room until he left again."

Hermione gave up. Padma knew her too well. She covered her face with her hands. "I can't help it, Padma. I never meant for it to happen."

Padma shook her head. "I can't believe this, Hermione. How long has it been going on?"

Hermione shrugged. "About two or three months, I suppose. I know you must think I'm crazy, but I'm just ... attracted to him. I can hardly explain it."

"How on earth can you be attracted to Severus Snape?"

"How could I not be attracted to him? I like his black eyes, his sense of humour, his hands ... And he's so clever, Padma! He's the only man who has ever made me feel hopelessly out of my league. And his voice! I could listen to him talk for hours." She leaned forward, willing her friend to understand. "I don't know how it happened, Padma, but it did."

"Hermione," Padma said, perplexed, "he's married!"

"I know," Hermione said miserably. "Look, I can't tell you all the details without being disloyal to my mother-in-law, but he's no more married than I am, in reality. Don't get me wrong, Padma; I know it's ridiculous. I have no intention of ever, ever acting on my feelings. It is whatever it is. I can't help the way I feel, but I can certainly help the way I act."

Padma watched her for a moment. "This cannot happen, Hermione. It would complicate everything; it would be a disaster."

"I know," Hermione insisted. "Please credit me with a little intelligence. I've already told you: nothing will ever come of it. It's probably a silly passing crush and I'll just have to get over it. Besides, he probably still sees me as a bothersome little girl."

Padma frowned. "He doesn't," she said, dropping her voice to a whisper once more. "That's what worries me most of all. Judging by the little scene I just witnessed, I don't know who has it worse: you or him." She picked up her wand once more. "I'll finish your make-up and then I'll have to go."

Hermione's heart was thumping. She knew, deep down, that Severus felt something for her, too. Lance certainly seemed to think so. But if she was so determined that nothing should or could ever come of it, why had Padma's words sent a thrill of delight up her spine? Why was her pulse racing with sudden hope?

Padma finished up a few minutes later, and Hermione walked her to the fireplace and handed her the jar of Floo powder.

Padma gave her a hug. "Don't do it, Hermione," she begged, looking worried. "It would be jumping from the frying pan into the fire. I couldn't bear to see you get hurt again."

"I won't," she replied. "I have to work with him, and he's still Theo's stepfather, when all is said and done. Don't worry. It will pass. You'll keep it to yourself?"

"Of course," Padma said, still looking concerned. "Behave yourself at this ball tonight."

"I will."

She stepped back as her friend disappeared in a blaze of green flames, and after staring at the empty fireplace for a few moments, she turned and headed for her bedroom.

She had meant what she'd said to Padma: she had no intention of acting on her feelings. But she also had no intention of looking anything other than her very best for Severus Snape.