After The War

Two weeks gone and it still struck him as odd. Years spent under the veil of secrecy that had kept him alive had made him little other than mysterious. Those years had given him scars that tore at the soul rather than sullened the skin. He had watched his best years go to waste for a cause he cared little for, yet he regailed over the reward he reaped at the end. He couldn't call her so much as a reward as a gift. She enlightened his mind and drew his spirit from the cold recesses of memory. She was the only thing in his life that had lasted through those long years, the only constant. After two weeks of the sheer bliss of her presence it seemed as though an entire lifetime had passed.

For seven years he had taught her everything he knew about potions and for seven years her wit and adaptment had promised her an amazing future. When the war hit closer to home than any of them could have imagined, she had only one to turn to. After finding the home of the Weasley Clan with the Dark Mark hovering above it she knew how they'd met their end without even entering. Her tears were halted only when she found that her precious Potter had survived though barely. Those same tears fell like a waterfall when he too lost his life after vanquishing the Dark Lord for good. No one was left but him, even her parents had met a sickly end. Dumbledore had finally said his last words of wisdom at the memorial service for Potter and took his leave to retire in sadness. He died a week later though some believe he faked his own death to get away from the sour world that he had such high hopes for.

He felt a cold thrill when she arrived on his doorstep though the years of a sulking disposition wouldn't allow him to show it. He simply nodded and moved aside to allow her entry, he knew her plight and had welcomed her eventual arrival. Though Severus was one for loneliness he couldn't help but afford himself some company and she was more than enough. She saved her thanks for later days and he wouldn't hear of it. He simply nodded toward her and held up a hand to issue his approval. Though he felt he should be thanking her for all the goodness she brought to a darkened doorstep, he never could bring himself out of that hole he'd created. Instead, he watched her go about her business, fixing dinner and doing the laundry out of her willingness to show gratitude. He would have asked her to stop if he'd had the slightest apptitude for home keeping or chores, instead he brewed potions that kept her away from fits of depression.

****

"If I had my way I'd bleach every bit of this lot," she muttered into the basket of black robes in much need of drying. Though she was happy tro have work to be done she very much disliked her chores. After years spent fighting evil, laundry seemed a bit trivial. Though she couldn't bare to complain, he was being goodly enough to take her in after all.

"I think I'd look a bit off color, no pun intended, prancing around in white like some fluffy angel," came a silky retort.

She turned to find Snape pouring himself a shot of Brandy. The mental image of Severus Snape as an angel wearing a halo and a set of wings brought the faintest tint of a smile to her face. "I highly doubt you are capable of prancing," she said stubbornly, lifting the load of clothes. After two weeks of her being so much as a live in maid she'd learned much more about her old Professor than she had ever thought was there to learn. She saw him less as a smug bastard and more as a man without a cause. In that aspect, though she'd never mutter it aloud, he was much like Harry. He too needed a cause to fight, even if it wasn't one he believed in.

"Oh I'm quite capable of many things that you wouldn't believe Ms. Granger." She wished he'd stop calling her that, the time for formalities had long since passed. She watched him stir his glass and take a long gulp. He licked his lips in a manner she found attractive which was more frightening than she might have imagined. Perhaps he would show her those things he was capable of, she thought whimsically before correcting herself. There was nothing that Snape could show her that would be amazing in the least, not with all the things she'd seen thus far.

Turning back to her chores she walked through the back door and hung the robes on the line under the summer sun. She could hear him in the kitchen, fixing his afternoon meal maybe. She hadn't taken her meals with him, it seemed to odd and unwelcoming to eat alongside her old Professor. She preferred to eat in the kitchen while he sat in his study, brewing potions and reading books while munching on a sandwich or whatever else she fixed. She had hoped he'd ask her to join him on several ocassions but found that his books were of more interest than her company. She had no idea that her mere presence in his home was enough company for him to be getting on with.

****

He watched her through the door, hanging his robes with such precision. Memories of her know it all demeanor shot through his mind, times long ago when she'd shoot her hand in the air, ready to strike with knowledge. How he'd despised that part of her that he now longed for. Her hair blew about her face as an east wind took hold and breezed by. She looked more like a woman than the little girl he remembered. She had filled out over the years, aging into her beauty though it wasn't the kind you'd see on the cover of Witch Weekly. She held a homely sort of glory, there was no glamour in her appearance but she had something that those witches lacked. Her mind was alight with daring and cunning and her heart was as golden as the galleons those other girls keep so fondly. He admired her for her lack of girlish things and wondered if she knew her own worth. He was slowly coming to terms with realizing it himself.

"Care for tea," he asked as she came back inside with an empty basket. She nodded toward another basket, much more colorful, containing her own robes that needed to be laundered. "That can wait can't it?" he asked more than commanded.

Seemingly giving in she sat at the kitchen table as he poured her cup. The thought of conversation turned her spirits a bit higher than she might have thought. He too seemed pleased with the idea, though he never smiled, she could see what might have been a sense of comfort creeping in. She may never feel like an equal at this table, she though sadly, he would always be the potions master and she always the student. Even though she was nearing 22 she felt like a little girl being invited in for tea with a mean and grumpy professor. Perhaps he'd discuss her previous grades or her school days. The topic couldn't have been farther from what she had imagined.

"I've not seen anyone come to call for you Ms. Granger, am I to believe that you think yourself above dating?" He spoke in that old tone that seemed more accusatory than questioning. He'd noticed it the moment he'd started to speak but couldn't turn himself back, it was very much a part of who he was. "Or perhaps your love is one of our dearly departed." His last words were hung with a sadness that she might have thought he was uncapable of had she not witnessed it first hand. There had been talk of course, that she was madly in love with Ron Weasley and even rumors of her with Harry but none wer farther from the truth. Her relationship with Viktor Krum had ended with the two finding that they were better as friends rather than lovers.

She watched as he stirred his tea in a melancholy way. He had cared for her friends whether he'd admit it or not. She saw his face more white and tear stained at Harry's funeral and she'd cried for him as well as for Harry. She couldn't exactly recall why she thought Professor Snape deserved her sympathy then but at the moment she realized that he was in fact deservant of everyones sympathy. He was nothing more than a man who gave up everything resembeling a normal life for the same cause that she'd fought for so long. He had lost comrades too.

"I...uh..." she didn't know how to answer his question or even if she intended to. "There was nothing between Ron and I other than friendship," she said very quickly as though she was finally able to squash the rumor. "And the same with Harry." She finished rather lamely and reserved the time to stare blankly into her teacup.

He could feel the sadness dripping off of her like honey from a spoon. He hoped she didn't cry, seeing a female in distress had an odd way of making him feel the need to touch them and wash away the pain. Oddly enough, he'd never had the chance in so many years to do such a thing. "I'm sorry I brought it up," he said finally as though the subject were closed. "I shouldn't be so forward with you as I see now that it makes you quite uncomfortable."

Hermione, though uncomfortable as was humanly possible, liked the idea of talking to Snape on a human level. He wasn't speaking to her as if she were a student in his class by force, he were speaking to her as if she were there by choice. She suddenly felt an ease wash over her, an ease that called to her...a realization that they were equal for this moment in time. "I'm not uncomfortable with the topic sir, merely surprised that you would take an interest in my private affairs," she said taking a sip of her tea. Snape nearly choked on his tea and she felt a faint sense of victory in her own boldness.

"I take an interest in the affairs of the wizarding world and I merely am inquiring as to unravel a few mysteries that have plagued us all," he said regaining his composure at her sudden assertion of power. He gave his usual sneer, knowing that she would ask the obvious question. She dind't fail to please, immediately following his remark she wanted to know what mysteries there were. His lip curled in a squemish fashion, as though he wasn't prepared ot divulge the answers. "The wizarding world had hoped that such a hero as yourself would be producing little heroes for future generations to hold in such high regard." His tone was one of contempt, a sound they both knew well. Any remark of the famed trio that was herself, Harry and Ron seemed to bring out that attitude. He truly despised the fact that they were adored by the masses, it was maybe the idea that all of his hard work had gotten him little other than tears while theirs brought fame. She laughed instantly. The idea of her baring "little heroes" was little more than laughable. "I believe the talk of you and Harry was more hope than anything else."

The laughter ceased and tears threatened her eyes. The mention of Harry and what he was supposed to give back to the world was something of a soft spot in her heart. Everyone had high hopes for him and Ginny Weasley, and they had been getting on well until the end. When Ginny died Harry seemed to have little to live for and he went about reckless after his recovery. He finally did the thing he was meant to do and died in the process. The image of Harry's lifeless body at his funeral gave her chills and the tears splashed at her cheeks. He was far too young to leave the world, and Ginny too. Now she recalled the horrible sight of the Dark Mark hovering over the burrow and the stench of death seeping from it. All of the Weasleys, her dear friends, gone and their bodies left to rot. The tears came full force now and she tried through sobs to apologize.

****

Damn women are fickle, one moment she's laughing and just when he though it was safe to bring up the name of one dearly departed she burst into sobs. He heard her apologies and muttered on of his own before trying not to look at her. "I shall make a happiness potion," he said leaping from the table, wanting nothing more than to get away from the entire scene. Each time he looked at her the urge to reach out and cradle her in his arms rushed over him.