Chapter Six

At precisely seven thirty there was a tap on her front door. Hermione gave her flat a quick once-over to check it was still tidy – books away, dishes clean, and dinner set out on the table (it had been making her mouth water since Kreacher had arrived) ready for consumption. She opened the door to reveal Snape standing there, with a bottle of red wine in his hand exactly as Ginny had predicted, looking rather awkward. Hermione greeted him with a warm smile and stepped aside to let him in.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she said.

Some of his awkwardness eased, and his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. He held out the bottle of wine.

"I believe it is customary for one to provide an accompaniment to the meal," he said.

"Thank you. We're having lasagne; I hope that's okay."

"I am sure it will be adequate."

She ushered him into the living room which, thanks to Kreacher, had been transformed into a dining area. The table was laid – he had even brought flowers – and the food was steaming. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I am impressed," he commented.

Hermione added the wine to the table and smiled, then sighed.

"I was going to take credit, but I'm afraid I'm far too Gryffindor for that. I may have had some assistance tonight."

"Some?" His other eyebrow rose.

Hermione tucked an errant curl back into its tightly restrained bun.

"Shall we eat?" she asked brightly. He was laughing at her, she was sure. Still, he removed his cloak without further comment and allowed himself to be seated. Hermione uncorked the wine and poured two glasses.

"Help yourself," she said with a gesture to the food. "It won't stay warm for long."

"On the contrary," Snape said with an amused smirk. "You have forgotten to remove the warming charms. Am I to truly believe this is your cooking, Hermione?"

She set down a glass in front of him and shuffled her feet.

"You are about to be treated to one of Ginny Potter's finest," she admitted. "I can't cook to save my life."

"I see." Snape reached out and helped himself to a portion of the lasagne. "I have heard it said that Mrs Potter has inherited her mother's famed culinary skills."

"Out of earshot of Molly, I would say she's better," Hermione said, sitting down and filling her own plate. "Ginny's more willing to experiment. Sometimes it doesn't work out, but most of the time it pays off. She has offered to teach me, but I never get the time." Or the inclination, if the truth be told, but she wasn't going to admit that. She could quite happily leave the cooking to her friends and just provide take-out every fourth Friday.

"Something you haven't learnt? I'm shocked."

"Oh, just eat up, will you?" Hermione said, waving her fork warningly. "Otherwise you'll get firsthand knowledge of what I have learnt, and you'll be walking funny for weeks."

"I severely doubt you could get the better of me," Snape said with a smirk, but he obediently began eating. Hermione rolled her eyes, but privately agreed. After a lifetime of espionage, she didn't think there was a person left alive who could best Snape – not even Harry. Snape simply oozed power; every fibre of his being resonated with magic and implied that bothering him would not be a good idea.

They ate in a silence only punctuated by the occasional comment of "more wine?" or a compliment to Ginny's cooking. As they ate, Hermione kept watching Snape carefully. He was polite, but stiff, clearly uncomfortable to be here. Ginny's words echoed, and she began to feel increasingly guilty for forcing him to be here.

"So," she started, "I really wanted to thank you."

"I gathered as much from your incessant owls. Had I known I would in fact be assisting your business, rather than the other way around as was expected, I can assure you the terms of our contract would be much different." He was sort of smirking when he said it, so she assumed he wasn't entirely serious.

"Too late to renegotiate now," she said, teasing. "You'll just have to suffer with the knowledge that you helped a Gryffindor out."

He gave a shudder. "It's not too late for me to poison you."

"Do it, and you'll have no dessert. Ginny promised cheesecake."

"Ah, and it would be a sin to pass up, I take it?" He was definitely teasing, and the tension was easing from his shoulders. Hermione smiled cheerfully and topped up her wine glass, offering it over to Snape.

"You'd better believe it," she said. Ginny was indeed a fantastic cook, but what she really excelled at were desserts. Hermione would quite happily have moved into Grimmauld Place if it meant the chance to sample them on a daily basis. "I even stop reading for Ginny's cheesecake," she said, leaning across the table conspiratorially. Snape quirked an eyebrow again.

"Had I known that was the case, I would have recommended Mrs Potter assist the house-elves at Hogwarts. Perhaps your essays would then have been the requested length rather than four inches over."

"There's nothing wrong with being thorough," Hermione said defensively.

"Thorough is one thing, superfluous, another entirely. I am pleased to see that thus far you do not apply the same approach to business." Well, that wasn't wholly an insult, so she ought to be pleased.

"I take my business very seriously," she said, feeling more willing now to admit that it had taken a while to get going. "It has been difficult to show people that the Muggle world is worth something, at least."

"Most purebloods are not used to thinking of the Muggle world as an option, and most half-bloods immerse themselves so thoroughly in the magical world that they forget themselves," Snape pointed out. Hermione grimaced but nodded. This was what she had failed to take into account – for many people the Muggle world was lesser in some way; why should they bother with it?

"You thought of it," she said.

Snape raised his glass slightly in a mocking toast.

"I am not most," he answered gravely.

Hermione had to laugh and concede the point. She raised her own glass.

"Indeed you are not, Severus," she said lightly, clinking her glass against his. "But you are the one who matters, here and now."

His eyes glittered with amusement even though his face remained impassive. Hermione was beginning to marvel at how much she could read through his eyes. As a student, she had always been too afraid to maintain eye contact with him and been too immature to bother try and understand the dour man. It was possible that had she tried, back then, she wouldn't have been able to, but now he wasn't a spy, and his life didn't depend on his ability to keep information hidden. Still, better late than never, she thought. Snape met her eyes and she broke off contact, embarrassed at being caught staring.

"Dessert?" she asked. He nodded, and she cleared the plates as quickly as she could, beating a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"Why is it," she asked herself quietly as she retrieved the cheesecake, "that he always makes me feel like a child?" She looked at herself in the distorted reflection of the microwave door. She looked like an adult, hair, for once, behaving itself, clothes smart but not too imposing (she thanked Ginny silently), make-up minimal. So why was it that she had felt her cheeks warm under his silent gaze?

"You're not a student any more," she told herself firmly. Feeling better for this little pep talk, she walked back with the plates and stopped in the doorway, aghast at the sight that greeted her. Snape had pushed his chair back slightly and Crookshanks was currently sitting on his lap, paws pressed up against the man's chest, purring loudly as he stared up at Snape's face. Not only was Snape tolerating it but he was stroking the purring cat, a half-smile on his face. Hermione leant against the door frame, a small smile crossing her own lips.

"Looks like you've made a friend," she said softly.

Snape looked up, clearing his throat and gently pushing Crookshanks away.

"Cats like anyone who panders to them," he said. Hermione's smile widened as she realised he hadn't expected her to catch him.

"Not Crookshanks. He's a very discerning character; half-Kneazle, I think. You should have seen what he tried to do to Wormtail."

"No doubt the rat deserved it." Crookshanks was deposited unceremoniously on the floor by a quick shove of Snape's hands. His purr changed to an offended mrrowr, and he chose instead to wind himself about the man's ankles before sitting a safe distance away, staring. Hermione set the dishes down.

"I can put him out if he's a bother," she offered.

"Would he stay out?" asked Snape.

Hermione laughed. "Not really, no," she admitted.

"Then it hardly seems worth the bother, particularly given how much you praised Mrs Potter's desserts. I shall simply tolerate the cat."

"His name is Crookshanks," she offered.

Snape looked down at the cat. "What did he do to deserve that?"

"What did your mouse do to deserve Granger?" she challenged. Snape chose to simply stare at her until she remembered that it was an insult to her that she was bringing up in her own defence. She cleared her throat.

"Cheesecake?" she offered primly, holding out a plate with a generous helping. Snape accepted it silently, though once again she noticed his eyes looked as if they were laughing. She scolded herself for paying such close attention. Ginny was right, she shouldn't impose a friendship on the man when he was simply a client. Once their business was concluded, he would retreat into his own world again, and she wouldn't be bothered by him.

Snape took a cautious bite of his dessert. She was shocked to see him close his eyes and savour the delicious taste.

"Mrs Potter could have excelled at Potions, had she the inclination," he commented upon finishing the first bite. "It requires a willingness to experiment beyond the accepted standards for brewing. Having sampled this, I believe it may truly be a loss for the Potions community." This was the highest praise she had ever heard him give, and it rankled that it was aimed at Ginny and not her, even though she would be the first to admit that she was reluctant to deviate from recipes; that was how Harry had won the Felix Felicis over her, of course.

"Ginny prefers more physical activities," Hermione said, surprised at how frosty her tone sounded – did she resent her friend that much?

Snape coughed politely. "I'm sure that was intended as an innocent comment," he said.

She replayed it in her head and groaned.

"Is that all you men ever think about?" she asked. "Given that Ginny plays for the Holyhead Harpies, I would have thought my meaning was clear enough."

"I make a point not to follow the careers of Potters."

"So it would seem." Hermione began to eat her own cheesecake, still annoyed that Ginny had apparently been better than her at Potions; her marks may have been higher, but it was Ginny that had made more of an impression. Snape watched her as they ate, but she refused to lift her head and meet his eyes.

"Am I to assume that you are somewhat aggrieved by my opinion of Mrs Potter's brewing skills?" he asked at last when the silence had dragged on for so long that even Crookshanks had gotten fed up and left.

Hermione sighed. "I'm not upset," she said.

"I find it difficult to believe when you have been stabbing your fork into your food as if it were the Dark Lord himself."

She couldn't help it; a smile burst onto her face at the thought of stabbing Voldemort with a fork.

"I didn't want to seem immature," she sniped, knowing that that was exactly what she was being.

"Then discuss your grievances rather than subjecting me to the silent treatment, Hermione."

She set down her fork. "In school, you were the only teacher who never seemed to acknowledge my efforts," she said. "I didn't want constant praise, just recognition of what I could do."

"I was accurate with my grading. That is recognition enough."

He was right. She'd never felt like he'd graded her below what her work had been worth, but there was a difference between that and open acknowledgement.

"Just once, I would have liked... oh, I don't know," she said, running a hand over her hair and dislodging several curly strands. "A well done on a difficult potion, or something. I worked hardest in Potions, just hoping it would be enough, but it never seemed to be."

Snape had finished his dessert and was now watching her, his arms folded, face giving away nothing. Hermione knew her eyes were filling and she resolutely blinked away the tears.

"I understood all the insults. I was a know-it-all, and you had a role to play for the Slytherins; plus, I was Harry's friend, and you hated Harry." Snape nodded agreement. "I don't really know what it was I expected, but I hoped for something, some sign that you thought I had a brain."

"Hermione. I shall resort to calling you Miss Granger in a moment if you do not cease your wittering." This was said without malice and worked to silence her. She watched as Snape leant forward, holding her gaze steadily.

"You showed a remarkable ability, even from an early age, to strictly adhere to a recipe and produce the desired result. However, you did not display any innate understanding of the art of Potions. You were unwilling to experiment, unwilling to wonder what would happen if you added six newt eyes, instead of the recommended four, for example. I was not looking for students who could do what was expected. Yes, I am aware of your prowess in other areas. Filius often mentioned your natural talent for Charms work outstripped any other student he had ever seen. Minerva and Septima sung your praises for their classes, but my realm was Potions. It was not for me to comment on other disciplines." This was entirely fair and entirely true and did nothing to make her feel better.

"I know," she said quietly.

"Then accept the fact. Do not try to be someone you are not, Hermione. You are not expected to be perfect at everything. Isn't it enough to be heralded as the brightest witch of her age? Isn't it enough to have survived a war, to know that you helped bring about an era of peace and renewed understanding for the wizarding world? How much more do you wish to achieve before you will be satisfied?"

Hearing him say that, she felt selfish. Everything he said was true, which was worse. She didn't exactly have anything left to prove, so why was she being so silly over her school years? She twisted a napkin around in her hands.

"I guess I owe you an apology," she said quietly. "You're not the only one having trouble getting past the Hogwarts barrier. I've... not been fair to you, Severus. I guess it went to my head, feeling like I had any authority over you."

"It is understandable, to an extent." She felt a warm hand on hers and looked up, startled, to see that Snape was now standing next to her, actually providing her with comfort. "Students rarely see their teachers as humans."

"You seem different now to how you were in school," she offered, not sure whether it was an excuse or not.

He allowed himself a brief flicker of a smile. "A near-death experience often causes one to re-evaluate their priorities. In my case, as I am now freed from the shackles of serving two masters and teaching uncouth louts to brew toxic concoctions, I find it beneficial to be more tolerant." As soon as she looked down at his hand, he withdrew it and shoved both into his pockets.

"No more wallowing, Miss Granger," he said sternly.

Hermione smiled. "No," she promised. "And no more acting like a jerk towards you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he warned with a hint of humour.

She stood, making sure to elbow him as she began to gather the plates.

"If you're not careful, I'll set Crookshanks on you," she retorted.

"A dire threat indeed." They both laughed and then awkwardness descended. Hermione was busy recalling Ginny's words and began to feel like she was breaching the professional boundaries she was so proud of adhering to. Maybe after their business was complete they would be able to build a correspondence – perhaps even a friendship – but for now, it was safer not to.

Snape evidently felt the same, for he began to withdraw back into his shell.

"I thank you for the dinner. It was indeed excellent, and I trust you will pass my thanks on to Mrs Potter."

"I will." Hermione shuffled her feet awkwardly. "Did you...I ordered suits for you; have they been delivered yet?"

"Not yet. I shall alert you the instant they arrive."

"Thank you. You remember our appointment on..."

"Friday. I am not entirely incompetent."

"Of course not. Well, thank you for coming." She debated what to do and then extended her hand slowly. Snape eyed it before grasping it for the briefest handshake she'd ever encountered.

"I will see you on Friday," he said, allowing her to escort him to the door. "I will refrain from hexing the Muggles this time."

"I would be grateful if you could." She smiled and waved goodbye as he stepped outside. After she heard the crack of Apparition floating back to her, she shut the door and leant against it. She didn't ever remember feeling this confused. What exactly had happened at the end that made it so awkward? Maybe he was embarrassed at the fact that he had comforted her? She didn't even know if she felt better or worse for it. She sank to the floor, allowing Crookshanks to climb onto her lap and purr in her face.

"Oh,Crooks," she whispered, stroking him. "Is Ginny right? Am I forcing my friendship on him? Is that what's making him uncomfortable?" Crookshanks began to knead her jeans before settling down. She stroked him idly, wondering what exactly had happened that made her feel so confused.

The next night found her arriving almost an hour early at Ron and Lavender's small house, her mind still in turmoil from the day before. She had barely registered Kingsley's owl, requesting her presence at a press conference to announce their new contract, merely answered in the affirmative and left Sandra to sort out the details of when and where. All day she had been second-guessing her own motives for accepting Snape as a client and whether she was being entirely honest. At last she realised that only talking to Ginny and Lavender would help – Harry and Ron were utterly useless where such things were concerned – and she finished work early, giving up.

When she arrived, she was greeted by an enthusiastic Lavender, who took one look at her face and sat her down with a box of chocolates. Hermione picked out a caramel and promptly burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" Lavender asked gently, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Ginny's right. I'm a horrible person, Lavender. I think I must have secretly wanted him to fail. Now he's being nice, and I don't know what to do."

"You're going to eat chocolates, drink the cup of tea I'm going to make and wait while I Floo Ginny and see if she's home from practice yet," Lavender instructed. Hermione obeyed, allowing a steaming cup of tea to be pressed into her hands. Lavender crouched before the fire; her conversation was quiet and hurried, but in mere seconds Ginny was emerging through the Floo, hurrying over to Hermione.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, sitting down.

Hermione shook her head.

"It went brilliantly, Ginny. He loves your cooking, by the way. It just... Oh, I don't know. I'm so confused!"

"That made no sense whatsoever. Calm down and start again," Ginny ordered.

Hermione wrapped her hands around the warm cup, feeling better as the warmth soaked into her fingers.

"He came over and we had dinner. Everything was going well until he made a comment about, well, about you being better at Potions than I am. I overreacted really badly to it and he had to comfort me, and then everything became awkward. After he went, I was so confused, and I didn't understand why. The only thing I can think of is that, subconsciously, I only took him on as a client and let him do his own thing because I wanted to watch him fail. I wanted to be able to say that I was better than him. How petty is that? Now, I don't want him to fail. I want him to do well. I do want to be his friend because he's actually funny, and clever, and even though he doesn't look like it, he does care. What am I going to do?"

Ginny and Lavender shared a look that showed they knew exactly what was going on.

"You're not a bad person, Hermione," Ginny said soothingly. "You took Snape as a client because you needed to; you had to save your business. He needed a consultant and you needed a client. You're reading too much into it, though you have been acting a bit childish."

Lavender produced two more cups of tea, and she passed one to Ginny, who accepted it gratefully.

"Why did he come over for dinner?" asked Lavender. Hermione realised that she hadn't filled her in on what had happened.

"So you got a new contract, and your first thought was to tell Snape?"

Hermione wasn't sure if there was hurt or something else in Lavender's voice.

"I wanted to thank him, so I invited him to dinner."

"Flowers wouldn't have done?"

"Can you see Snape with flowers?" asked Ginny with a grin.

Lavender laughed. "Okay, so no flowers. Why was your first instinct to invite him out?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged. "It seemed the proper thing to do."

"It was," Ginny stepped in, waggling her eyebrows furiously at Lavender.

"I'm not blind," Hermione said, glancing from one girl to the other. "What are you two trying to say?"

"Nothing," Lavender said, apparently having understood Ginny's message. "Just that you're being too hard on yourself. There's bound to be some confusion because of the history between you. You're getting to know Snape as a man, and he's getting to know you as a woman, not as a child or a student. Of course there'll be teething troubles." She stood. "Now, I have to go cook. Ron will be home soon, and he knows to bring Harry straight over. There'll be nothing right if food isn't ready." She bustled off out to the kitchen in a manner so similar to Molly Weasley that Hermione and Ginny couldn't keep the smiles off their faces.

"Ron found someone well suited to him," Ginny commented quietly.

Hermione nodded her agreement, then glared at her friend.

"Ginny, I'm not stupid. You and Lavender have a theory, and I don't think I'm going to like it."

"Then it's a good thing we're not telling you." Ginny patted Hermione's knee. "Think of it as a puzzle, Hermione. Just rest assured that we think you're reaching a bit far with your theory at the moment. It's something much simpler than that."

"A puzzle?"

"Exactly, like that Cubik's thing."

"Rubik's cube, Ginny."

"Whatever. You're not setting Snape up for a fall. You're too good for that. Besides, it's more of a Slytherin thing to do than a Gryffindor. Just go with the flow and see what happens. Now, you'd better cheer up or Harry and Ron will pick up on it, and they're useless when people get upset."

Hermione laughed. A puzzle. She could do that; solve the puzzle that was Severus Snape. Thinking of it that way made her feel better. She knew, deep down, that there were no sinister motives when she took him on as a client, only a burning desire to save her business at any cost. Now that she was calmer and had gotten her worries off her chest, she knew that all she wanted to do was help him succeed. That was a relief, given how far she had already pushed things.

"If either of them says anything, I'll owl George for something nasty to give them," she said.

Ginny cackled. "Excellent plan! Oh, by the way, what did he do to you? Mum nearly jumped out of her skin when your Howler went off. George was so sorry he even asked me to pass some chocolates on to you; they're back at Grimmauld Place, though if you know what's good for you, you won't touch them."

"I don't want to know what would happen if I did," Hermione said, shuddering at the thought. "I'd probably turn into a canary in my meeting tomorrow or something worse. I'd rather not have Harry and Ron have to cover for me again."

"They don't work hard enough as it is. Come on, let's set the table and help Lav out. Forget about it for now. The answer will just hit you one day."

Hermione allowed herself to be hauled to her feet and immersed herself in an evening with her friends, though at the back of her mind she was determined to meet Ginny's challenge and solve the puzzle as soon as possible.