Six

Summary: Neville, Snape and Hermione return to Hogwarts after the summer. Some things have changed in the post-Voldemort world – how do they cope? (Response to prompt 12 on the Potter Place Fall Challenge Prompt List.)

A/N: Huge, enormous, massive thanks and homage to Subversa for her tireless encouragement and meticulous beta-reading.

Chapter 6

Hermione met Professor Snape in the Leaky Cauldron at 7.30 a.m.

"Is there any particular reason for my being here at this ungodly hour?" he demanded, reaching for the coffee she held out to him as soon as he arrived.

"Lots to get through. You look nice, sir," she said, taking in his Transfigured charcoal grey Muggle suit, white shirt and green tie. She had never seen him in anything other than black, and the change made him seem much more approachable despite the formality of the clothes.

"Thank you. Your efforts have not been wasted, either." In fact, he found her rather pretty in the long, rose-coloured skirt and cream blouse she had chosen. Her hair was tied back neatly, showing off her large, brown eyes. Yes, remarkably pretty. The prospect of a full day being seen in the company of the Gryffindor know-it-all suddenly seemed less tedious than he had previously anticipated. She blushed a little, but got down to business straight away, consulting a list she had spread on the table in front of her. He leaned back, amused.

"Once we've finished coffee, sir, I'll be taking you to the dental practice my parents used to own. I know the hygienist pretty well, and I've twisted her arm to get an early appointment. I now owe her big time." She gave Snape an admonishing glance. "Then we will be going to a hairdresser..."

"What?" he interrupted, his amusement evaporating. "I am not going to have my hair cut!"

"You asked me to help you in this, sir, so let me do so. I drew up a list of what needs to be done initially..." (His heart sank – initially? What had he let himself in for?) "...and I say something needs to be done about your hair. Don't interrupt! I don't know what you've been using on it – I don't want to know – but clearly it doesn't work unless the effect you're aiming for is 'ick'. I don't intend you to undergo any radical change in style, but you will have it trimmed and taken care of. After that, we will be..."

Severus Snape began to have sympathy for Potter and Weasley, who had managed, somehow, to survive more than seven years of this. Granger had the bit between her teeth, and there was clearly going to be no negotiation, let alone stopping her.

"If you've finished your coffee, Professor, we should get going. We'll Apparate to the surgery – I'll take you Side-Along, as that'll be easier than explaining how to find it."

Both of them found the physical contact a little awkward, but neither said anything about it.

The torment of a thorough dental work-over was nothing compared with the stress of a visit to the hairdresser. Snape found himself helpless in the hands of a person whose very existence he despised, who spoke some kind of code (layers? hot oil treatment? conditioner?) and who expected him to provide answers to questions made meaningless by their incredible banality. Happily, Miss Granger seemed to speak the language and understand how to handle the natives. He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth and pretended he was elsewhere.

"You can open them now, sir."

Over the past couple of years, he had let his hair grow quite long so that even after a good trimming, it could be tied back neatly. He examined himself in the mirror. The face was the same, the nose just as prominent, but he had to admit that he did look somehow better.

Hermione had predicted that Professor Snape would be nearly beside himself by this stage and had deliberately sought out a salon located near a very good bookshop. The man was no saint, it had to be admitted, and as there was (possibly) worse to come, she had programmed some periods of cooling-off into the day. Even Muggle London had some oases in it, after all. An hour, several books bought and a cup of coffee later, she started dragging him into clothes shops.

The first port of call was a fairly up-market establishment where the Professor could be properly measured (one area to which Hermione's expertise did not stretch was men's tailoring). She found a chair on which to wait while he was escorted behind some curtains, and opened one of her new books. She didn't pay much attention to the conversation taking place out of sight, though her head came up when she heard her teacher's tone take on a snarl she knew only too well, but as there were no sounds of actual violence, she decided not to intervene. After a little time, a shop assistant sporting a tape measure around his neck came out to collect some shirts and other items from the shelves.

"You are a very lucky girl," he stage-whispered to Hermione on his way back.

She didn't know whether to blush or give him a frosty stare on her teacher's behalf, but he was gone before she could do either. When Professor Snape finally emerged, he looked ready to commit murder. They left the shop without purchases and in silence, which continued as they walked down the street.

"Lunch?" ventured Hermione eventually.

Snape glared at her, but relented at the tremulous sound to her voice.

"You had better know of somewhere very good, Miss Granger. I am currently in no mood for idiocy or mediocrity of any kind."

She took him to a small, out-of-the-way Italian restaurant. It was unpretentious, and the food was very good indeed. They started to relax over the meal, and the conversation was wide-ranging and interesting to them both. Snape was impressed by the breadth of her knowledge and the intelligence of the questions she asked, often provoking him to consider a subject in a new light; Hermione enjoyed the subtlety of thought and sly wit he displayed, his increasing lack of inhibition in talking with her showing him in a kinder light than she had ever anticipated. After their main course, he sat back to savour the last of the wine in his glass.

"How did you know of this place, Miss Granger?" he asked. "It's not the sort of restaurant many schoolgirls would come to."

"My parents used to eat here from time to time. They mentioned that it was..." She stopped with an unexpected hitch in her voice. "Sorry," she continued. "It's just that now they've left the country for good, I feel rather alone sometimes. Not really connected with anything any more." She looked at him. "Do you know what I mean?"

He noticed how a trace of sadness appeared in the soft brown eyes and realised that in fact it was always there to a greater or lesser extent. Even the resilience of youth and the protection of friendship had not prevented her from being marked by the war.

"I do, Miss Granger, I really do."

The afternoon passed rapidly. Hermione regained her good mood bullying Snape into buying a few items of clothing not designated solely for the use of funeral directors. They had a fairly major wrangle over a dark red shirt ("I will not wear red!" "It's not Gryffindor red!" "That's beside the point! I do not wear colours." "But you look good in it!" etc. etc.), but the biggest argument came when Hermione told Snape to purchase a pair of black denim jeans. At first she could not be induced to tell him exactly why she thought them necessary to his wardrobe, and as he had no idea when he would possibly ever wear them, he remained steadfast in his refusal. She was just as adamant in her insistence that jeans were necessary to their campaign. Finally, arguing in a hissing undertone outside the changing rooms in a large designer store, he forced her to give in.

"Just come out with it and stop being so damn coy!"

"Oh, you – oh, all right! They make your hips and...and... and... "

"Arse?" He was enjoying her discomfort.

"Yes, all right! Arse – look... sexy!"

She was blushing bright red by this time and turned her back on him. There was no further argument and no further mention of the subject. Snape paid for the jeans.

By half past four they were both exhausted, and Hermione felt they deserved a treat. She took them for tea at Harrod's. The Professor watched in great amusement as she practically inhaled scones, jam and cream and then ordered more. He reflected that although they had spent a large portion of the day arguing, and although he had allowed her to bully and hector him into things he would never normally have contemplated, he had seldom spent a day in company so congenial to him. He did not feel he had to watch his words with her, as she generally gave as good as she got, and while they maintained a certain distance between them (except perhaps during the jeans incident), they were at ease with one another. He didn't know if it was friendship, even if that was possible between two people whose relative ages and positions inevitably set them apart, but it would do for now.

As for Hermione, she was satisfied with her achievements and her time spent with Professor Snape. He was not nice exactly, but his company suited her down to the ground. Despite the arguments, she was content in his presence. They parted with some reluctance, she to complete the Headmistress' commissions, he to Apparate directly back to Hogwarts, as they could not be seen to return together. Each had much to think about, and the promise of a strategy session to look forward to.