Two

Disclaimer: Again, I own none of it.

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Striding back into the castle after her evening walk, Hermione couldn't help but feel an odd sense of satisfaction by how utterly exhausted she was. It was Friday, the end of the students' first week of the term, and she would have been willing to bet Galleons that she was just as worn down and thrilled to embrace the weekend as they were. Yet despite the long hours she'd put in, her excitement was equal to that of the students. Hermione loved the bustle and havoc...and, more than anything, the crisp promise...of a new autumn and a new school year.

Quidditch season was already in full swing as well, and she could hear the eager shouts of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams as they practiced side by side. Throwing open the massive castle doors, she very nearly ran full-on into Ginny.

"Hey!" Ginny grabbed her shoulders lightly, staring at her intently, almost studiously. "You look horrible."

Hermione made a face, knowing full well that her hair was a mess. The dark circles under her eyes attested to the late evening she'd spent poring over the second- and third-year curricula, anxiously wondering if any further revision was necessary. "I'm tired," she admitted finally, "and I got splashed with water when I was down by the lake. I guess the squid's in a feisty mood."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and pursed her delicate lips. "Don't say things like that. I don't want to know what would put the squid in a feisty mood."

Side by side, the two apprentices made their way up to Hermione's room, where she fixed herself a cup of hot chocolate and collapsed on her living room sofa. Ginny did the same, though with an antsy air about her. Hermione gave her a questioning glance. "What's wrong? Are you late for something?"

"Snape and I are sparring tonight," Ginny replied. "I've been practicing all day. I'm afraid I'm going to be too tired to do very well."

"How about some medichocolate?" Hermione was halfway to her bathroom, where she kept her stash of medichocolate and various other magical remedies, when Ginny summoned the will to say in a long-suffering tone, "No, much as I'd like that, I have to learn to do it on my own. Snape'd probably sack me outright if he found out I was using medichocolate to beat him."

"What makes you so sure you're going to beat him?" Unbidden, an image of Snape facing Gilderoy Lockhart sprang into her mind. She'd been only thirteen at the time, but she hadn't been immune to the almost serpentine grace with which he'd moved. She suspected that few of his students had ever considered throughout the years their loathed professor's upbringing, but it was obvious that he'd been dueling well, if not competitively, for many years.

"I probably won't," Ginny admitted with good grace. "But I'm damn sure going to try. Do you want to come watch?"

"I doubt Snape would appreciate that," Hermione replied dryly.

"You could go as your other self," Ginny teased. "Did you ever hear back from him about that book, by the way?"

Hermione sighed. "No. I didn't expect to, honestly. He probably got back to the castle and realized that sending some stupid girl he met in a bookstore a volume as precious as the Kernwhimple treatise would be an incredibly stupid thing to do."

"Even though she's gorgeous and was chatting him up, you mean."

"I did not!" Hermione refilled her cup of hot chocolate, her cheeks burning. She didn't think she'd been especially flirtatious in her behavior towards him, but then again, she hadn't exactly been reserved either. Something about the intensity of his dark eyes had made the cool, collected demeanor to which she'd aspired a rather difficult state to attain.

"Oh, come on. I saw the way you smiled at him outside the store. You can't tease him just for the sake of teasing him, but then again, we all know you're a miserable flirt."

Hermione didn't bother to respond. It was a universally acknowledged fact.

"But when there's a book at stake..."

Hermione summoned a pillow and threw it lightly at Ginny's head.

Ginny ducked agilely and laughed. "He won't care if you come watch, you know. Eventually someone will have to in order to grade me. He can't do the final grade during the dueling practical. He can only grade my written and field work."

"Field work?" Hermione asked idly. She was staring pensively out the living room window, regarding the students playing Quidditch and the rapidly darkening Forbidden Forest. It was a beautiful evening, and if she was honest with herself, her long walk had more invigorated than relaxed her. She was suddenly astonishingly awake, and she was curious to see Snape duel Ginny. She was curious to see him period, really.

Would he be at all changed by his encounter a week prior with a stranger in a book store? Or was that an unimportant occurrence to him?

"My very final test...if I pass the dueling, that is...will be any creature he chooses. Werewolves, dragons, that sort of thing." Hermione tuned back in to find Ginny describing the harrowing circumstances of her final test.

"He's going to make you fight a dragon?"

"Knowing Snape, no. That would be too predictable."

Hermione felt a slight twinge of irritation. Knowing Snape. Ginny didn't know him, not really. None of them did. She'd fancied since running into him in Hogsmeade that she understood him rather better than she'd ever thought, as it was obvious their mutual interests extended to the history of potions; but then again, if Snape had been at all like her, he would have owled to warn Emilie that he hadn't been able to procure the book.

Pulling on her heavy cloak to ward against the dungeon cold, Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty. Impersonating someone else with Polyjuice was sketchy enough, but adopting a glamor and fabricating an entire identity was downright wrong. She shouldn't have let Ginny talk her into approaching him while wearing the glamor, and she most definitely shouldn't have exchanged names with him.

"Well?" Ginny asked, her small frame hanging halfway through the door. "Are you coming?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly, following Ginny through the door and down into the dungeons. With every step the air grew cooler and more humid. As they passed through a hallway in which Hermione had never ventured, she was immediately struck by the sight of a bright gold door several dozen feet ahead of them. "Is that your room?" she asked with a giggle.

Ginny seemed to puff up to twice her natural size and took on an indignant air. "Yes. Snape told me when I moved in that I'd better not 'fancy I could decorate with any ridiculous Gryffindor colors' 'cause he'd destroy them if I did. So I asked Flitwick to decorate my door and put on an Imperturbable Charm Snape couldn't break."

Hermione wasn't sure whether to be impressed by her mentor's ingenuity or disappointed in the Potions master's skills. "And Flitwick was successful...Snape can't break it?" she surmised.

"Oh, he probably could if he tried. He's terrifically good with all sorts of charms, I've found. I honestly think he can tell it was Flitwick's work, and he's just afraid of causing an all-out war with another professor."

Somehow that was even more disappointing. Snape and Flitwick battling over the motif of Ginny's quarters would have been an amusing sight indeed.

They walked in silence the remainder of the way, Ginny calmly leading Hermione through several more winding hallways before settling in front of a nondescript oak door. Ginny rapped lightly three times and then added one particularly forceful bang for good measure. Both girls heard an audible sigh echo from within the room.

"You are late, Miss Weasley," the deep voice called.

Ginny flashed Hermione an unrepentant grin and walked through with a swagger. "Sorry, Professor. I had to find Hermione. I invited her to watch us. If that's acceptable to you, of course, sir?" Her voice was honeyed and entirely fake.

Snape shot her a warning look and then deigned to turn his attention to Hermione, who was beginning to feel extremely discomfited. Logically she knew that Ginny was spending the majority of her time in Snape's company, but there was an undeniable familiarity between the two of them that set her on edge. She felt simultaneously repulsed and annoyed.

"Very well." Snape looked away and appeared to have already dismissed her presence entirely. "In dueling stance, Miss Weasley. I trust you have practiced the spells I assigned you."

The alteration in Ginny was remarkable, Hermione noted. She herself had always performed reasonably well in Defense, but acting on the spur of the moment was not her forte, and she was no longer ashamed to acknowledge it. Ginny, on the other hand, settled with effortless grace into her dueling stance, her eyes suddenly sharply focused and her shoulders flawlessly positioned. She, like Harry, was a born fighter. She didn't have his raw, brute power, but she more than compensated for that fault with her almost dizzying speed and dexterity.

Snape was even faster, Hermione soon realized. The two bowed ceremoniously, faced off, and then Ginny fired off a hex that Snape proceeded to parry almost lazily. He looked like a bored fencer.

"Again, Miss Weasley. Mind your stance."

Ginny attempted again and did a much better job, though Snape still neutralized the hex with no appearance of effort. If he didn't even break a sweat fighting against Ginny, then there was no longer any question in Hermione's mind that he'd been not the least threatened by Lockhart. He'd probably been disgusted with him, in fact.

An hour flew by before Hermione realized it. Snape never seemed to grow fatigued or drained, and for her part, she became increasingly embarrassed by her own lack of dueling skills. He would have been nearly as disgusted by her as he'd been by Lockhart, given the opportunity to watch her duel.

Sweat soon began to bead in glistening drops at Ginny's hairline, and once they had passed the hour mark, her breathing had increased markedly. She was rapidly tiring, and though Hermione had imagined Snape would force her to push through it, he instead astonished her by halting their session abruptly with an almost concerned expression.

"You have overtaxed yourself, Miss Weasley. Sit down and drink something. I have provided a strengthening brew and medichocolate for you." He pointed a slender finger in the direction of the small table and chair at the other side of the room, and Ginny stumbled gratefully toward them. Hermione automatically started forward to follow her friend, and Snape's gaze swiveled over to her. He'd probably forgotten that she was even there.

"Miss Granger. You are Filius Flitwick's apprentice, are you not?"

"Yes, Professor."

"You are living at Hogwarts for the time being?"

Growing confused and mildly suspicious, Hermione licked her lips. "Yes, sir."

He was silent for a moment and then spoke again. "Miss Weasley will need to build up her stamina. Regular hour-long sessions with me will only exhaust her to the point of delirium. If your dueling skills are sufficient, I should like her to practice with you several times a week before attempting to continue with me."

Hermione clamped her jaws shut. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

"Well?" he snapped. "Are they or aren't they, girl? If they are inadequate, I will ask Filius to help her."

"I believe they will be adequate, sir," she said stiffly.

"Very well. The two of you will meet twice a week. In three weeks' time, I will begin supervising you. Once Miss Weasley has progressed, she will resume working exclusively with me. For us to continue in this manner will only waste my time and drain her of valuable magical energy."

He turned to Ginny, who was somehow managing to gulp pumpkin juice, gobble medichocolate, and fix him with an irritated look all at once. "You will continue to meet with me Friday evenings, Miss Weasley, to refine the techniques you have practiced with Miss Granger. I expect you to be diligent in arranging times in accordance with both your schedule and Miss Granger's. You will not interfere with her obligations to Professor Flitwick."

Ginny swallowed loudly. "Are we going to study a new hex tonight?"

Snape's expression softened slightly and a strangely discomfited look overcame him. "No," he barked shortly. "I have something I must attend to. We will begin tomorrow after lunch. You are excused." He glanced over at Hermione again before walking swiftly from the room, cloak billowing behind him, as usual.

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"You're absolutely sure Snape won't care if you stay up here?" Hermione called. She was currently relaxing on her bed, partly immersed in the latest edition of Hogwarts, A History...updated to include the author's retelling of the epic second battle against Voldemort, naturally...and Ginny was splashing about happily in her enormous tub.

"No," the other girl called through the open door. Hermione could just barely distinguish the long fall of coppery hair over the side of the tub and two small knees protruding through the mass of bubbles. Ginny had immediately fallen in love with Hermione's lush quarters; her own dungeons rooms were well outfitted but remained unavoidably cold despite even the most dedicated application of warming charms. "He doesn't care what I do, as long as I'm around when I'm supposed to be," she continued airily. "I could probably live back at home for all he cares."

"Why don't you?" Hermione tossed aside the book and summoned her hairbrush. She began to unfasten the frizzy plait of hair trailing down her back and work through it painstakingly with the brush, muttering irritably whenever her movements were arrested by an especially vicious tangle.

"Can't handle living with Ron," Ginny yelled back. "He's got a new girl every week. It's driving Mum crazy."

Hermione expected to feel uncomfortable at this revelation, but there was just a dull ache in her chest. She'd feared at the time that her split with Ron would end their friendship entirely, but immediately afterward he'd rebounded and found himself a string of girls to provide the amusement and comfort he apparently hadn't found with her. Hermione was not upset by this, however. She was lonely, but she supposed that was inevitable at an age when many of her classmates and peers were just discovering the joy and value of committed, long-term relationships.

Ron didn't appear to be especially burdened by his lack of a long-term relationship, she thought with a chuckle. He was content to move from girl to girl while slogging through Auror training, and Hermione found that if he was content with his current lot in life, then she could be genuinely happy for him. She rather felt sorry for Mrs. Weasley, though.

"How is your mum, by the way?" For a brief moment she pondered, yet again, chopping her hair short to be rid of its malevolence. Her brush bent alarmingly, threatening to snap in half.

"She's fine. It was rough for a while there, but..." Ginny's voice trailed off, allowing the soft splashing of her movements to reach Hermione's ears. "Dad said she's still crying a lot at night, but she's getting better. They're thinking of going out of town over the Christmas holidays, actually. He's afraid it will be especially hard for her again."

"It probably will," Hermione agreed, horrified by the recollection of the Weasley family's first Christmas at The Burrow without one of their children. She couldn't even begin to fathom the grief and pain of losing a child.

"Anyway, they invited us to come along, wherever they decide to go. I said I'd talk to you about it, but I figured you might want to stay here for the first year. Snape will probably kill me if I leave."

A sharp, echoing rap caused Hermione to jump. "What was that?" Ginny bellowed, equally startled, as Hermione tumbled from her bed and went searching for the source of the sound. She'd already had a few students, mostly scared first years, stop by her quarters for homework help and words of comfort, but it was nearly midnight. Any student caught out at this hour would summarily require a reprimand and a detention, and Hermione wasn't keen on doling out detentions before her first week as Professor Flitwick's assistant had passed.

The sound repeated itself more insistently. She entered the living room and realized that an owl was pecking against the living room window. Gasping, Hermione opened it quickly and allowed the poor creature to enter. It had begun raining perhaps an hour before, complete with blustery winds, and the owl was bedraggled and visibly exhausted.

It was a beautiful bird, a deep brown with exceptionally sharp eyes. Hermione had never seen it before, but she requested some warm bread from the house-elves before indulging her curiosity about the missive it clutched in its talons. Once she'd fed it first, dried it off, and wrapped it in a blanket to allow it to recover, she glanced at the spidery writing on the letter.

Snape. It was Snape's handwriting!

Anxiously she broke open the seal, devouring the letter.

Miss de Costa,

I apologize for the delay in communicating with you the status of your request. I have had rather a trying week, but the good news I have received from a colleague of mine more than redeems this, as I think you will agree. He has procured the work you requested and has assured me it will be delivered into my possession some time this weekend. I can therefore pass it on to you at your earliest convenience.

He'd signed it simply with his name, but it was somehow the most satisfying thing she'd ever read.