Chapter 6

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Hermione was clipping her hair back when she heard the knock on the door. She frowned and wondered who McGonagall had found at such short notice. The witch hoped the person was at least familiar enough with muggle ways so as not to draw attention. And while she understood the rationale, Hermione still didn't like the idea of a witch or wizard accompanying her today...it was an invasion of privacy plain and simple. She took one last look at herself in the mirror, and even she could see she looked too pale. The witch wasn't happy with the long, black cloak either as it would stand out amongst the Muggles, but there was little she could do about it. At least her full-length skirt and long woolen jumper were more in keeping, even if they weren't exactly cutting edge fashion.

Hermione opened the door not a little begrudgingly...oh, dear mother of God, no!...and fought an impulse to slam it shut again. Snape was standing bat-like in front of her, his oily hair partially obscuring his sallow face.

'I am to accompany you today, Miss Granger.'

'Oh, oh, right,' stammered out Hermione, 'I'll just get my bag, sir.'

Oh, God, this was too much, just too much, she fumed as she snatched up her bag. The one person who knew something of who she was...the one person she didn't want finding out anything more...just so happened to be the one accompanying her today. It seemed a bit more than a coincidence, and she didn't like it...she didn't like it one bit. And it wasn't fair. All she wanted to do was sit down and eat something...anything not tainted with magic...and then she would be in a better frame of mind to work out how to handle this precarious situation.

They walked down the corridors in silence, both their cloaks billowing out behind them. Nothing was said until they reached the Apparition point just outside the wards of Hogwarts.

Snape looked down at her with his hawk-like stare. 'Professor McGonagall informed me of the general location; however, I will need to know specifics if we are Apparating, Miss Granger.'

'Of course, sir.' Hermione felt her cheeks reddening. 'I doubt you've been there before. Um, it's the village shops near where I grew up. I hadn't realized until a little while ago that I needed to have someone with me; otherwise, I'd have arranged a Portkey with McGonagall... I mean, Professor McGonagall... um, I mean, Headmistress...' Hermione trailed off and looked at the ground. She felt like an immature student explaining why she was out after curfew.

'I would also like an outline of what we are doing today before we Apparate if I am to do my job properly,' he said in his deep voice.

Hermione was shocked...Snape was being polite. She'd expected him to hand out the usual barrage of insults the way he did in the classroom, but nothing. Not a hint.

'Sorry about that, sir; I was planning on visiting the local village shops close to where I grew up. There are a few places I'd like to see again, and then I want to visit my parents' graves. The church is relatively close, so I thought I'd walk there from the village.' Then Hermione's mouth and brain separated company. 'Is that okay? ... I mean, for security and risk assessment and... um... whatever other sort of stuff you are here for?' The witch winced at what came out of her mouth...since when did she use the word 'stuff'?

Snape continued to look steadily at her. 'Yes, that is why I am here. I have been informed you are in the highest risk category, and as such, I will need to stay close for the entire day.'

Hermione heard a touch of an accent to Snape's words; it was curious she had never heard it before in the classroom.

'Now, shall we?' Snape said with a hint of impatience and smoothly held out his arm.

Hermione breathed in, stepped closer to him and linked arms with his. He was much taller and more slender than she'd realized. She looked up at him, nodded and Apparated with a crack.

Hermione opened her eyes for a split second but quickly closed them again...the narrow brick alleyway was swaying violently under her feet. She felt a prickling of sweat as waves of heat coursed through her and heard a humming sound inside her head. Oh, no, Apparating on an empty stomach was not a good idea, she thought desperately, and automatically held onto Snape's steady arm, trying to center herself. It was as if the normal gravitational pull had gone askew, but she was determined she was not going to faint in front of Snape...that would be too much. Hermione cautiously opened her eyes but shut them again quickly.

'Are you all right, Miss Granger?'

'Just a moment, sir,' the witch whispered while she desperately willed for her nausea to settle. Please don't throw up...please don't throw up, Hermione repeated anxiously to herself. She doubted she could live herself down if she upended the meager contents of her stomach onto Snape's shoes. Slowly the humming subsided, and it wasn't as suffocatingly hot. The arm she was grasping onto was still and firm, so she cautiously reopened her eyes and looked about the unmoving alleyway in relief. Snape was looking down at her with a frown on his stern face.

'Sorry about that, sir ... um ... I haven't Apparated much in recent years. I'm not used to it anymore,' she feebly lied.

'I believe, Miss Granger, food is often beneficial when you feel faint,' Snape pointed out.

He saw through that one nice and easily, thought Hermione ruefully.

'Perhaps we should shed our cloaks. It is warmer here, and we will not draw as much attention,' the tall wizard noted.

Hermione realized she was still clutching his arm and quickly let go. Taking Snape's advice, she took off her cloak and draped it over her arm. The wizard had done the same and wore simple, unassuming black trousers and jumper.

'I know where we can go for something to eat. The food is good,' Hermione said with studied nonchalance.

With a nod, Snape indicated for her to lead the way out of the alleyway and down the busy high street. He walked by her side, his eyes scanning the morning shoppers. Hermione realized with a snort that this must be what it would be like to have her own personal bodyguard. It was a pity he didn't have a little microphone to talk into like she saw in the movies.

When they opened the doors to the café, Hermione went weak at the knees at the beautiful smells. All this food she could actually eat and not a tinge of magic anywhere. Snape stood taking in the casually trendy place with an easy confidence. There were only a few people scattered about, as it was still too early for the lunch time rush. Hermione wondered what the etiquette was for paying but decided since Snape had offered up his Sunday to accompany her, she should pay. Anyway, the witch didn't know if Snape had any Muggle money.

'The lunch menu is up on the board, Professor Snape,' Hermione pointed out quietly, not knowing if he had eaten out at Muggle cafés.

They both stood scanning the board in total concentration. Even reading the descriptions of meals on offer made her mouth water. She'd never known words like 'drizzle', 'garnish', 'pan fried' or 'roasted' could send electric shocks through her entire body. Hermione stepped closer to the counter, and a cheerful young man behind it greeted them.

'What would you like, sir?'

'Oh, no, Miss Granger, it should be I asking that question,' Snape replied formally, his face hidden by his lank hair.

'Sorry, sir, but you gave up your own time to be here,' insisted Hermione firmly.

The blonde haired man was following the exchange with an interested smile. Hermione realized that they were probably different from his usual customers.

'Absolutely not. It would be both my privilege and my honour.' Snape turned and looked directly at her.

Hermione looked sharply up at the carefully chosen words and saw he had bowed his head. She nodded in agreement, and Snape looked pleased for the briefest of moments . The witch turned to the man behind the counter. 'I'll have the lamb shanks, please.'

'Yes, and I will have the same,' Snape smoothly added. 'Miss Granger, if you could find a table. I am sure you will be wanting to sit down.'

Hermione nodded; she still didn't feel too well. 'I'll be out there in the courtyard.'

She picked up a carafe of water and two glasses and went out into a small, completely enclosed brick courtyard. It was empty. There were only a couple tables and chairs out; most were still stacked away against one wall. It seemed quiet after the noise of the café, and Hermione drew her cloak around her against the chill air as she sat down. Most of the courtyard was still in shadow...the weak northern sun hadn't reached over the walls to warm it up yet...but Hermione always preferred to sit outside whenever possible. She glanced up as Snape sat fluidly down, angling his chair so his back was against the wall.

The wizard still looked remote and imposing, but the witch noticed there was a small measure of approval in his eyes as he took in where she chose to sit them. This was surreal. Snape would be the last person on earth Hermione would have thought she'd be having lunch with here. The last time she'd come here had been with Emily, an old childhood friend. They'd giggled the afternoon away, drinking frappes and gossiping. The last Hermione had heard, Emily was studying to be an architect, but that had been seven years ago. Who knew where she was now?

'Thank you so much, Professor. You really didn't have to.'

Snape gracefully crossed his legs and shook his head. 'As I said before, it is my privilege and honour.' He met her eyes. 'My lady,' he added in the ancient tongue.

Hermione gulped in surprise. Luckily, she was saved from needing to reply as the waiter from behind the counter sauntered up to them with a bottle of red wine and two wineglasses on a tray. So... Snape drinks red wine, noted Hermione with interest. Ron would have loved that bit of information. The waiter set the wineglasses down on the table, uncorked the wine with a flourish, poured a little into Snape's glass and waited while Snape took a small sip, then nodded. The waiter filled the glasses up with the deep blood red wine. Hermione thanked him, and he withdrew with a nod and left, humming a tune. She glanced up, and Snape had for the fleetest of seconds a strange expression on his face as his eyes followed the waiter through the door.

'I hope you drink red wine. I took the liberty of ordering a bottle as it does go well with lamb,' Snape simply observed.

'It's been years since I've drank red wine, but, yes, I do like it,' Hermione commented with a smile.

Snape lifted his glass in a silent toast. Hermione returned the gesture and took a sip. The taste was strong and acerbic on her tongue but had undertones of warmth and spice. It tasted delightful...and most importantly, it wasn't sweet tea.

'It's lovely, thank you.' Hermione felt the alcohol go careening around her starved body, which might have given her the courage to ask her next question. 'Tell me, Professor, do you speak the old language?' The young witch couldn't be bothered trying to work out subtext and hints with a former and possibly current spy.

'I do indeed, my lady,' Snape replied using the ancient tongue smoothly if a little carefully.

'This is indeed a surprise,' Hermione replied in the same language, looking carefully across at the lean man sipping his wine. 'But since I was your student and you were my teacher, it would be better if we used these terms of address, would it not?' Establishing what terms of address to use was a well-known routine, and the witch felt instinctively more comfortable communicating in this language with Snape; it defined relationships more concretely than English.

'Oh, on the contrary, my lady,' insisted Snape fluently with a glimmer of a smirk playing on his lips. 'Since you are a lady, I will address you as one.'

'In any case, I will address you as 'my teacher' as that is what you are to me...my teacher.' Hermione grinned back, enjoying the game. Snape spoke the ancient tongue as a native speaker with not a trace of a Southern dialect. She sipped her wine speculatively and felt its warmth course through her. 'Pray tell, my teacher, how did you come to speak the tongue with such elegance?'

Snape's face became inscrutable once more. Hermione knew he was weighing up what to tell her. He sat back and swirled the dark liquid around his glass contemplatively. 'It was my maternal grandmother who spoke to me entirely in this language. But it has been many years since I have used it as an adult. It is indeed a pleasure to feel it rolling from my tongue once more, my lady.'

The waiter came out and put down their plates in front of them. Hermione honestly thought she'd died and gone to heaven.

'Bon Appetit,' said Hermione, itching to start.

'Bon Appetit,' Snape quickly replied.

They both started eating with equal relish. The lamb was soft and succulent, complemented with the sharp taste of mint sauce; the potatoes were perfect and the gravy rich. For a time there was no noise except for the scraping of cutlery on the plates and the distant buzz of traffic. Hermione genuinely couldn't remember eating anything as delicious as this in a long time and noticed Snape was eating with equal gusto. There was no pressure to fill in the silence with small talk, and by and by there was nothing left on either of their plates.

Snape elegantly put his knife and fork together and dabbed his lips with his napkin. 'That was indeed the finest meal I have had in quite some time, my lady.'

Hermione noticed he had the lovely smooth diction of the mountain area when he spoke.

'This café was where I used to come with my parents and my friends before I moved away. I am pleased the meals are done to the same standards.' The witch noticed Snape's usually sallow face had a warm flush to it, and he was looking fractionally more contented. The sun had climbed over the wall, and they were now bathed in sunlight.

'Where do you study in the South...do I detect a coastal lilt?' the wizard asked.

Hermione reminded herself sternly that she was talking with a former spy whom she still did not trust. 'Yes, that's where I live now, along the Smoky Coast. And where in the South did your grandma come from, my teacher?' she countered, hoping to move the conversations away from her.

Snape refilled her glass, and she took another sip of wine.

'From the Black Mountain region. I spent my childhood growing up there.'

'I know it well. I lived there a couple of years ago. I studied under a teacher there by the name of Ilak.'

Snape dropped his eyes. 'Teacher Ilak is in fact a relative of mine. She's my grandmother's cousin. My grandmother and I used to visit her often at different festival times. She used to let me sit on her lap and help her when she led the rituals.'

Hermione was also impressed that he was related to Teacher Ilak. The old Southern woman had been one of her hardest teachers and was both demanding and selective of the students she took on. It also confirmed her suspicions of last night that he had family from the South.

'Is she well?' Snape inquired, more gently than Hermione could have imagined.

'Yes. I saw her about a year ago, but a friend of mine is still studying under her, and I only spoke to him the other week, and he said she is well. She keeps herself busy and is very involved in her family. She's certainly getting frailer, but considering her age, she is in good health.'

'That is good to hear.' Snape lifted his eyes and had an unusual expression on face.

'Now, is there any particular cake you like...I'm at least getting this...and would you like coffee or tea to finish, my teacher?'

'Ah, anything sweet for the cake and strong for the coffee.' Snape had a ghost of smile playing on his lips.

Hermione laughed, getting up, feeling his eyes follow her as she went to place the order. There was calmness in her body, which she realized was the absence of hunger. Straight away, the seemingly improbable scenario of having lunch with Snape no longer fazed her like it had less than an hour ago. She placed the order and made her way back to their table where Snape sat sipping his wine in the sun, observing her walking across the courtyard.

The young witch sat down and gave a mental shrug; she wasn't good at the indirect. 'Excuse me, my teacher, but I would really like to know how you knew what I am?'

'It was how you led the Other Realm Chant, my lady. I knew you had gone to live in the South, but of course that did not necessarily mean you had become so conversant with the different rituals.' Snape's normally cold eyes showed an infinitesimal glow of warmth.

'But how? Was it my Latin?' Hermione ventured with a frown.

'No, your Latin was perfect, my lady. It was how you led it. You created a build up of magic with it.' Snape had a faintly amused expression.

'But that's good, isn't it?' Hermione asked, still baffled, tapping her fingernail on her wineglass.

'We understand that it is expected in an Other Realm's Chant, but here it is done merely as a tradition, and it has lost all links with our type of magic. Also, it does require a high degree of aptitude to bring it to that level of power, especially in another language.' He gave an eloquent shrug of his shoulders. 'So it did not take much to work it out.'

'Do you think many others would be able to tell as well?' Hermione anxiously questioned.

Snape simply nodded.

Hermione groaned again and buried her face in her hands. Dammit, she'd been too good at the Chant...she could never have seen that coming.

'If it is any consolation, my lady, the vast majority of the wizarding community will not know what your position is, as I do. But unfortunately, any association with the South carries with it... how can I put this... a taint... shall we say, with most people here.'

'Ah, so that explains what happened at the Burrow...I couldn't work it out. I thought I had made some dreadful mistake and had offended everyone.'

'Of course, you are Muggle-born...this all makes more sense.'

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked sharply with a flash of anger.

'What I mean is you will not have been brought up with certain prejudices that most pureblood wizarding families seem to be born with.'

'And you, my teacher? How do you fit in?' Hermione questioned pointedly.

'In some very old wizarding families, such as mine, they have managed to hold onto their connections with the South, albeit quietly and discreetly,' Snape explained, fixing his eyes on the wine he was still swirling.

They paused as the blonde waiter placed the cake and coffee down in front of them. Snape sat silently until the waiter left. His eyes flicked upwards when a burst of conversation erupted into the courtyard as a young couple came through the door. Hermione turned and saw them take a table on the opposite side of the courtyard.

'Please, my teacher, choose,' offered Hermione as she gestured towards the two cakes before them.

His black eyes quickly flicked back to the cakes and the coffee, and his long-fingered hands hovered between the two cakes, then edged towards the chocolate cake. The wizard looked at her wordlessly; she tipped her head, and his hand claimed the cake. Hermione took a long sip of coffee, savoring its black intense strength on her tongue, and felt it rushing through every artery in her body. The young witch tasted the baked cheesecake...it was light and perfect. She glanced up and saw Snape close his eyes in pleasure as he took a sip of coffee.

'It's good, isn't it, my teacher?'

Snape's eyes snapped open as if guilty at being caught closed. 'Coffee is something unheard of at Hogwarts.'

'Well, tea just doesn't come up to the mark as far as I'm concerned, however strongly it is brewed,' commented Hermione with a small smile.

'I quite agree, my lady.' Snape took another long sip and another scoop of cake.

'Professor McGonagall has offered me a short-term position at Hogwarts.'

Snape paused, his cup in mid air. 'Has she now?'

'Yes, and I'm considering taking it,' said Hermione slowly, looking carefully into Snape's stark face.

'The Headmistress chose well asking you; you will be most suitable for the task.' A flicker of a smirk played on the wizard's lips. 'Although, I would imagine you will have to find more than a supply of coffee to keep you satisfactorily sustained at Hogwarts.'