New Beginning... A Chance for Love

This is my first attempt at doing a fanfic. I do hope it is something that can be enjoyed. I KNOW that my placement of Hermione at the beginning of this story is somewhat off. But, if she fit well there, then Why would Dumbledore make her come back to Hogwarts?

I bow to JKR. She is the Queen. I am merely, a fan. No money, no copy write... just sharing in something fun...
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My wonderful Beta JessicaDamien did wonders for me. Whatever she missed, Notsosaintly helped clear up. Any other mistakes afer that, are completely my own.
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Chapter 1

Five years had passed since the day that had changed all of their lives. For Albus Dumbledore it had been a long five years, an eternity which had aged him more than he would have ever thought possible. He had been old, certainly, but now he felt brittle and somehow robbed of the vital spark he had owned before. To those most deeply affected by the war, the last five years had been a harsh and cruel lifetime.

Ron and Harry, both brilliant wizards in their own right, had succumbed in the final battle with Voldemort. Hermione, who had become engaged to Ron the year before the war, had loved the flame-haired young man more than Albus had believed one so young could love another. Doubtless, they had expected to live a long, happy life together.

When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had attacked, it had been sudden and with a preternatural violence previously unknown in the wizarding world. Albus remembered how Hermione, normally an uncannily capable witch, had watched helplessly as her best friend and her future husband were both killed.

It was possible she blamed herself for not being able to do something to prevent the mayhem and devastation wrought on them by the Dark Lord, yet in the final analysis, none of them had been prepared for the onslaught which had engulfed them. Dumbledore knew how deeply she had mourned. He had tried to console her; all of those at Hogwarts had tried to help her cope with her pain.

Their best, however, had not been enough to mend the damage. Those scars left unseen in the heart are seldom healed and never forgotten. Inconsolable, the beautiful young witch had turned from the wizarding world. Albus recollected with regret how she had sworn never to use magic again. In her pain, she had fled Hogwarts. She ran so far in fact, that she left Britain altogether and went to America.

Now she owned a ranch in the southern state of Texas, where she searched for a different life in a valiant attempt to leave her memories behind. She had turned to raising horses and mixing herbal remedies for her neighbors. She had buried her wand in her backyard, out of sight and seemingly forgotten, though Albus feared she was deluding herself. Hermione would never find peace by hiding from her feelings; it was not in her character.

Dumbledore knew she had built a thick, protective cocoon around herself, a gossamer cushion against the world where she thought she would not be touched by the magical way of life again. Part of him hated to intrude on the safe, secure life she had built, but as he thought over his plans, he knew it was time for her to return. She had given too much time to running away. Now it was time for her to put those aches aside and to find herself. He wasn’t, however, fooling himself into thinking it would be an easy thing to do.

He considered long and hard who he should send to retrieve her. McGonagall? No, she would dissolve in sympathy the first time Hermione broke into tears. Lupin? No. He wouldn’t be able to convince her to return by offering her chocolates. Finally, with his decision made, Albus wrote on parchment and handed it to his trusted companion, Fawkes. The brilliant phoenix took off immediately as Albus sat back in his chair and waited.

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Severus Snape answered Dumbledore’s summons with the characteristic scowl, which had become his trademark. “I hope this is important,” he sighed.

Albus turned to him. “Indeed it is, my friend. Come,” he said as he gestured to the chair before his desk, \"have a seat. We must talk.”

Severus smirked, but seated himself across from Albus. He waited quietly for the Headmaster to tell him why he had been summoned. A new year was beginning at Hogwarts. In less than a month, students would be arriving. As far as Severus knew, he would be teaching two classes this semester, since a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had still not been found. He had preparations to make and he didn’t appreciate being sidetracked, even by the Headmaster.

Albus seemed to recognize Snape’s turn of thoughts. “I have found the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” he announced, then paused, adding, “I hope.”

Severus cocked his head in response. “What do you mean, you hope?” he asked. It always gave him pause when Dumbledore chose to be vague. “Do we have a replacement, or do we not?”

Albus was silent for a moment before he replied, “I believe we do, but as of yet, I still do not know if the young witch will accept. She has turned away from magic, I am afraid.”

Severus raised an eyebrow before expressing his astonishment. He said, “She has turned from magic? You mean to tell me, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is living as a Muggle?” The very idea was repulsive to him. His jaw tensed at the thought. “What manner of witch would turn her back on magic?”

Albus watched Severus closely. “Hermione Granger,” he said softly. His eyes held Severus’ as the younger wizard considered what he said.

Snape opened his mouth, searched for words, but none came. He found himself completely speechless. His disgust forgotten, he thought of all the pain the young Gryffindor had endured after graduation. So much had been taken from her, Severus could not find it within himself to blame her for turning from the world of magic. It was not as if this world had given her anything.

He found his own emotions in conflict. The darker half of his personality screamed to leave her alone. She had chosen this course of action herself, and in that sense, she deserved what she got. But the sensitive side of him that he kept hidden from so many reminded him what a fantastic, brilliant student she had been and whispered, do you wish her to never move past her pain?

He lowered his head, staring at the floor. Letting Albus see his eyes would mean displaying to the headmaster the emotions boiling within him, he thought. After a moment, if a bit reluctantly, he asked, “What would you have me do?”

Albus reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. “This is where she is,” he said softly. “I trust you can find a way to her. Floo powder – and perhaps a distance spell? It shall take some convincing on your part to get her to return. You will have to be careful of her feelings, and try to remember all the girl has gone through.”

Nodding, Severus stood and started to leave.

“And Severus?” Severus paused, looking back at Dumbledore. The old wizard spoke even more softly as he said, “Try to be nice.”

Severus stared at Albus, aghast. The man was insane. Nice? How in the bloody hell was he supposed to be nice? Straightening his shoulders, he glared at the Headmaster for a moment before asking, “Where exactly is she, again?”

Albus gestured to the piece of parchment in the younger wizard’s hands. When Severus looked at the writing scribbled on the page, he shook his head and stood in silence for a few moments before looking again at Albus. He respected the headmaster’s judgment, but this was not an assignment he was looking forward to performing. Once again, his jaw tensed visibly.

“Texas?” He asked loathsomely, rolling the word over his tongue before turning his eyes from the headmaster. “She went to America?”

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Hermione had spent a long day working. She had fed her horses and let them out into the pasture before she mucked out their stalls and gave them fresh water. She had worked the animals, exercising and riding, then brushing each of them down in turn. In fact, it was well into the evening hours before she finally returned them to their stalls and fed them once again. Having done all the chores she set for herself, she wearily headed for the two-story ranch house where she went to the library and selected a book on Native American magic and its uses. Although she refused herself the expression of her magical abilities, she still had the same old insatiable interest to learn about any and all aspects of the subject.

She moved absently from the library and through the kitchen toward the living room, having grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen counter, then seated herself in a large leather recliner and opened the book to the last page she had read, ate the apple and read on. The house was quiet, she thought after a time. Actually, after considering it more closely, she realized it altogether too quiet – unnaturally so. She felt a vague moment of unease as the idea of unexpected company suddenly hit her.

Looking around the room, searching for any sign that there might be a wizard infiltrating her home, she tried to still the sudden tension she felt. Seeing nothing out of place, she let her eyes move unwillingly to the fireplace. Even as she looked, she could see the dust beginning to stir in the Floo. “Oh, no,” she sighed dismally. Her voice was small and sounded miserable. The ensuing loud popping noise confirmed her fears. This was the last thing she wanted, but she somehow knew it was inevitable. Her past would return to claim her. Was today the day?

Gradually, she saw a bent form, clad in black and covered with soot, crawling uncomfortably out of the small fireplace. She shook her head, wishing she could awaken from what was most certainly turning into a nightmare. Severus Snape, the professor she had most tried to impress as a student, the same man that she had a secret crush on her last two years at Hogwarts, was standing before her. He had been the only man, besides Ron, that she had ever wanted to kiss. This was the man she had sworn to herself to forget about when she made her decision to leave Hogwarts forever. She closed her eyes, willing him to be a figment of her imagination, expelling a sigh of defeat when she reopened them to see him still standing in her living room.

Gaining his feet, Severus stood at his full height and pointed grimly with one finger toward the fireplace. “That,” he said with a sweeping gesture, “is not a decent entryway!” He stared at it for a moment before adding, “It is entirely too small!”

Hermione looked at him, and couldn’t help the look of contempt that crossed her features. “Unlike the ancient chimneys of Europe, it is not meant for travel by Floo powder!” she retorted, tossing her book on the coffee table as she stood, facing him squarely, her hands on her hips. “Why are you here?”

Severus noticed her defensive stance. He admired her brooding beauty, even as he straightened his own shoulders and delivered his message. “I, Miss Granger,” he said softly, “have come to take you back with me to Hogwarts at the headmaster’s request.

For a moment, Hermione could only stare at Snape, an expression of horror on her face. Slowly, as the meaning of his words sunk in, she shook her head emphatically. “You must be joking,” she said, her voice cracking on the words. “I can never go back; not to that life!”

“Please cease your incessant whining,” Snape snapped before he could catch himself. For a moment he stood silently as he repeated the mental personal mantra he had begun to practice to refrain from snapping at people for no reason. I can be polite. I am not showing weakness by being kind. I am not losing myself by being considerate of another person’s feelings. Sighing, he tried again in a softer voice. “Hermione, this is not where you are supposed to be. This is not what you were meant to become.”

Swallowing the lump that had wedged itself in her throat, she edged toward the fireplace. “I am sorry to have wasted your time,” she said softly and as unemotionally as she could manage before turning to meet his gaze. “Please give Professor Dumbledore my regrets.”

Severus moved to stand a hair’s breadth from her, searching her eyes. Finally, he shook himself out of his momentary enchantment and said, “I will do no such thing. You do not belong here.” His voice was firm, determined. There was an air of menace to it, however, she thought as he stood mere inches from her. “You will come back with me,” he said with a grimace, “or I shall be forced to remain here with you until I can convince you to come.” His nose seemed to twitch as he took in the appearance of the cozy, but small living room.

The idea of his being in the same house with her for an undetermined amount of time was appalling, yet her own determination not to leave the place she had made her home for nearly five years now made her raise a defiant eyebrow. She replied softly, “Well then, I suppose you should search out the spare bedroom; it’s getting late. I get up to take care of my horses at six a.m.” Her eyes boldly met and held his gaze. “If you are going to stay, then I will expect you to earn your keep.” A slight smile played on her lips as she added, “By helping.” Turning, she made her way from the room, leaving him staring slack-jawed after her.

Unable to resist a parting shot, she looked back over her shoulder and called, “Are you familiar with how to muck out the stalls?” She snickered slightly at the idea of Severus Snape trying to muck out a horse stall. It was absurd. She’d have him fleeing back to Hogwarts and Dumbledore, claiming she was a maniac. She told herself she wouldn’t mind being reported a raving lunatic; it would be worth it if they would leave her in peace.

Snape watched after her for a moment. He opened his mouth to voice an angry retort, but caught himself when Dumbledore’s admonishing voice rang out in his head – Be nice, he had said. Once again, Severus’ mantra repeated itself in his head and he made himself breathe deeply and relax his tight shoulders. Instead, he turned his attention to her beauty. He felt both vexed and intrigued by her appearance as well as her attitude. Instead of the wild mane of hair she had once had, the chestnut brown curls fell in soft tresses, past her waist and almost to her hips. She wore it braided on both sides, and pulled back so as to keep the hair from her face.

He raised one eyebrow as he watched her glide down the hall. Her hips swayed gently with each step, drawing his eyes to center on the faded blue jeans that hugged her hips. Her blouse was snug, and stopped right before they met her jeans. Severus tilted his head as he watched her walk farther and farther from him. This was not the Hermione he remembered. The girl he remembered was not so – enchanting. Unable to stop himself, he followed her.

He caught up with her just as she entered the doorway of her bedroom. Her chocolate eyes narrowed at the puzzled look on his face. “Good night, Professor,” she said softly before closing the door in his face, giving him no opportunity to reply

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Hermione leaned heavily against the door, staring into the dimly lit bedroom. She felt an unbidden shiver of excitement run through her. Severus was here, in her home. She had longed to see him. It shocked her to admit it, even to herself, but it was true. There had been so many nights she had lain awake crying, so many nights she had wished he would come, kiss the tears from her eyes and tell her he was taking her back where she belonged. Severus had been through so much pain in his own life; she could believe he knew the depth of her own sorrow. She had even thought she might have stayed and not turned her back on magic, if he had only reached out to her. He might be the only man alive who could still the pain that still burned deep inside her at losing Ron.

It had been a useless wish, she thought, even as she had let her mind dwell on it. Professor Snape did not share his own pain with anyone, much less offer to listen to anyone else’s. She frowned at her musings, moved farther into her room and began to undress. Her muscles were sore, achy. She left her clothes in a heap by the dresser and walked into the loo, or as they called it in America, the bathroom. She turned on the water and waited for it to warm. With a wave of her hand, she lit six candles, and floated them to the corners around the tub. Crushing some lilac petals, she dropped them into the water. Turning off the light, she sank deep into the oversize tub. Savoring the aroma, she closed her eyes and laid her head on the back of the tub.

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Severus leaned his head against the door she had closed in his face. This had to be the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He was ashamed of his harsh nature. He had wanted to reach out to her when Potter and Weasley had died. He had wanted to be there for her to confide in, but it had been his own self-imposed harshness of nature that had kept him from offering support to her. In addition, he had felt inadequate to be her confidant. He didn’t know how, did he? He had never been an approachable person with whom others could share their emotional pain. He was just now, years after the final battle, learning that showing fears and emotions did not mean a person was weak.

He had never cared if he hurt anyone’s feelings before, had never wanted to counsel anyone who was in pain. In fact, he’d loathed any display of emotion, seeing it as a sign of weakness. He had never given himself over to it – at least, that was the way he had viewed himself. Now, however, he had begun to realize denying one’s emotions didn’t make one stronger or better than those who expressed and experienced their feelings. Now he found himself wanting to have been there for her, for the pale beauty who had been so crushed by the untimely deaths of her loved ones and her own dreams and plans for the future. He had ached to go to her and lend her his ear. He would have, if he had not felt so completely unfit to offer her what she needed.

He stared at the door, wanting so badly to lend her that ear now. Suddenly, he knew he could not let her dismiss him so easily. They had unfinished business. She had to at least go to Hogwarts and talk to Dumbledore. Taking hold of the doorknob he found the door surprisingly unlocked and walked into the room. He noted the discarded clothes and moved into the adjoining room only to find himself staring at her naked form in the bath. The water covered most of her body, but her nipples stuck out over the water. He found himself staring, speechless. She had been once only a girl, but now was so obviously a woman. Get out of here you perverted old fool! What on earth are you thinking, he thought. Even as his inner voice demanded he leave the room now, his body didn’t listen to his mind. Instead, he moved forward and dropped to his knees beside the tub.

She didn’t seem to notice he was there as she reclined in the tub, eyes closed in relaxation. He could not help but stare at the beauty of her soft, tanned face. To his complete horror he saw himself reaching out and touching her cheek softly with the palm of his hand. Merlin, you idiot, what is wrong with you? He chastised himself even though he knew he could not help himself.

Hermione’s eyes flew open, a surprised gasp escaping her at the sight of him. Sitting up, she grabbed for a washcloth and hunched herself so her damp hair covered the upper part of her body. “What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” she hissed. Fury edged her voice, and he couldn’t blame her for it.

His voice was quiet, controlled as he spoke to her. “I am deeply sorry, Hermione, for not knowing how to be there for you,” he offered softly. His eyes never left her face.

Her fury melted as the tears came to her eyes. “It is over now, Prof – ”

“Call me Severus,” he interrupted quickly. “I am no longer your teacher.”

She didn’t know how to respond. “Go back to the living room, Severus. I will join you there after I have finished my bath,” she managed to say, remembering the forced formality her relationship with Snape had always demanded.

A moment of silence followed as they simply stared at one another. “Promise me?” he asked softly when he found his voice.

Nodding, she leaned away from him. “I do realize we have much to talk about, but it will have to wait until I am done here and am appropriately attired.” she said, feigning a dignity she did not feel under the circumstances.

He stood then and with a fleeting glance at her, turned and made his way back to the first room he had seen upon his arrival. Sitting down on the seat closest to the fireplace, he waited quietly. With no noise in the room, he was forced to listen to the sound of his own heart as it pounded wildly in his chest.

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When Hermione had dried herself and collected her thoughts, she slipped into a terrycloth bathrobe and tied it. Moving down the hall to where Severus waited, she sat in the chair across from him. She simply sat for a moment, considering what to say to him. What he was asking of her was something she was unsure she had the power to do. His dark, fathomless eyes met and held hers. For a long moment, she had to fight the urge to look away. Finally, she shook her head and said softly, “Severus, it has been too long. Too much has happened. Perhaps once I belonged at Hogwarts, but now, I – I have a new life, one I feel is much better suited to me.” She listened to the words as they poured forth from her mouth, thinking they sounded contrived and all wrong, even as she said them with such conviction.

Severus cut her off with his silky, yet malevolent voice. “How can you believe yourself suited to a life devoid of magic?” he asked, leaning forward and capturing her gaze once more. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it spoke volumes. “Hermione,” he continued, “your own parents were Muggles; yet they recognized your potential. They encouraged you to become the best witch you could be.” He tightened his jaw and clenched his fists in exasperation. “What would they think? How would they feel to know you had turned your back on everything you had learned, on everything you had struggled to become?”

Hermione fingered the hem of her robe, her eyes downcast as she sat without responding to him. When she finally spoke, it was in a voice filled with pain. “They don’t know; they died too. The higher powers saw reason to take even them away from me. For all my magic, I could not save them – any of them – not Harry, not Ron – none of them. Harry and Ron died killing Voldemort, but even that didn’t save my parents. They were attacked the next day by renegade Death Eaters.” Her voice broke on a sob. “All my wasted talent didn’t help protect anyone when I was faithfully using it, did it?”

She stood, tears streaming down her cheeks. Still, she did not meet his gaze. “I am hollow, Severus. I have lost everyone that was ever dear to me. I have nothing left inside me to give the wizarding world.” Her voice broke on the last word. “I am sorry, but you have wasted your time.” Turning, she made her way back to her room.

Severus was left standing there staring after her. Once again, he was repeating his mantra to himself, furious that this was proving so difficult. “Damn you, Albus,” he swore under his breath.

Once inside the safety of her bedroom, she closed and locked the door this time. Moving to her bed, she collapsed on it and let the grief wash over her. She could never go back. Her heart knew that; why couldn’t Severus understand it as well?

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