Of Regrets, Chances, and Fate

Hermione sank into the beige couch, mindlessly scratching Crookshanks’ back in greeting. The mail piled up on her coffee table, parchments from the magical world mixed with letters from the muggle. Many of her friends from the muggle world had been eager to keep up, as has been nearly impossible while Hermione was at Hogwarts. Now that she was in muggle France, however, things seemed quite more feasible.

She poked her fingers at the food arranged on the plate, debating whether or not she wanted to eat, or just shower and go to bed. It was a Friday night, and as usual, she had very little to do. Newly single, she was finally enjoying the peace and quiet of an evening alone at home; complete with a bottle of fine Italian Chianti, as well as a plate of grapes and cheeses.
The pile of papers was nudged with her toes, spilling to the floor in a most un-Hermione fashion. She took another sip of the wine, closing her eyes and allowing the soothing liquid to flow. ‘I love…’ she thought, before her mind trailed into an incoherent sequencing of images and sensory information – wine bars, tall champagne flutes, grapes, and the pungent aroma that tickled her nose and threatened to overtake her senses.
Glancing to the top one, she spied a note from a stranger – it was written in a sprawling cursive, addressed only to Hermione Granger. She pulled it out of the stack, mentally noting then disregarding when the action sent several other papers flying.


Granger,

Are you free the evening of the twenty-first? I will be traveling through Montpellier for several days and was looking for a friendly face. Perhaps we could grab dinner and coffee – or is it café now?

Draco Malfoy


Hermione read it over, smiling a bit at the last bit. Glancing at the calendar hanging neatly over the desk, she searched out the date, and, finding nothing to indicate any plans, she shrugged, before summoning a quill and inkpot from the desk, as well as a clean sheet of parchment.


Draco,

I am free. Would you like to meet me at Le Jardin des Sens at 7?

Hermione Granger


She sat back, debating. Did she want to walk all the way into the post office, or apparate into the Wizarding Quarter? Glancing at the bottle of wine, she briefly wondered if she should worry about splinching, and decided against it. Setting the glass down, she grabbed her robes out of the closet, her wand, and wallet, before disappearing with a soft pop.


As the fifth hour of the evening rolled around, Hermione began perusing her closet, looking for something to wear. Le Jardin des Sens was not a fancy restaurant, but it was more than a simple jeans and tee-shirt establishment.

“Hermione, why don’t you wear that black dress of yours?” Emma pointed out from the bed, an amused smile on her face. She has sensed her friend’s growing worry about the upcoming evening.
“Emma, that dress is far too revealing! I only bought that because Christophe insisted on it,” Hermione explained, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. Sifting through the clothes, she finally picked out a skirt and matching blouse, which Emma approved of.

“Classy, and still young. Good choice.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, before quickly stripping out of her jeans and tank top, changing into the outfit. She glanced into the mirror, letting out a groan at the state of her hair.

“Emma, why do the gods hate me? My hair is a disaster! All I ask for is… I just wish it would, for once, not look like I stuck my finger into an electrical socket!”

Emma snorted, before standing, and rummaging through Hermione’s hair care effects. “Girl, you just need to learn the wonders of hair care products! If you would just listen to me for once, there’s plenty of products – go to the local grocery store, you’ll find things that will tame that hair in a jif!” When her phone began to ring, she exited the room, mumbling something about overbearing boyfriends.

Hermione pulled out one of the products Lavender had talked her into last year when they shared an apartment – ‘Never again!’ Hermione quickly thought. They were small plastic containers, labeled with Lavender’s neat handwriting, explaining the uses for each product.

The one Hermione zeroed in on was ‘Smooth the frizz, no residue! Only lasts for twelve hours, is removed with a simple cleansing spell or washing the hair in the shower. Apply at the roots (brush your hair first!) and brush gently through.’

She scooped out a bit and began smearing it onto the roots of her hair, then grabbed a comb and brushed the orange paste down her hair, hoping she did it right.

“Hermione Granger, what in the hell are you putting in your hair?” Emma said loudly, rushing over to inspect the damage her friend was doing.

Hermione quickly gave one last pull, before watching into the mirror, waiting for the orange to fade. “It’s something a friend gave me, back when we went to boarding school. She designs her own organic beauty products, and gave me a few to try out. Watch.”

Sure enough, true to her word, within a minute, the entire product began to disappear, leaving only soft waves. Hermione pulled a clip out and clipped her hair back, pulling it all out of her face.

“What kind of product is that?” Emma said, her voice dripping with envy. Hermione briefly felt guilty for showing off anything even remotely related to the wizarding world to a muggle, but she brushed it away.

“I have no idea,” she replied with a laugh. “Lav made it for me and insisted that I use it. I don’t usually care; it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Sometimes.”

“That was fantastic! I have never seen something work such wonders! Next time you talk to her, I want to be there!”

Hermione laughed, before sinking onto the bed. “Man. Tonight will be a crazy adventure. I haven’t seen Draco
in… four years! He and I hated each other all throughout school. We finally made Head Boy and Head Girl in our final year and… well, we were forced to work through our problems.”

“Is he hot?”

Hermione turned to look at her friend, taken aback for a second by the question.

“I suppose people find him attractive…”

“No. Do you think he is hot?”

Hermione stopped, and thought. She knew that all the girls at Hogwarts found Draco Malfoy to be quite the sex
symbol, but did she? Another moment’s reflection passed, and then she shrugged.

“He is good looking. I don’t know if I would say hot. But definitely good looking. He has prestige, back where I’m from. His family is at the head of the social circles; they’re the celebrities of the area. He has money, talent, and intelligence.”

“Sounds hot. I want to meet him.”

“Emma, he’s only in town for a few days. I’m sure he just wants to go out to dinner to fill some boredom. He’s here on family business. I doubt he will have time to hang out.”

Emma gave Hermione a look, and then shook her head. “Whatever you say, Granger.”

--------

That evening, she waited patiently outside of the restaurant, chatting with a few friends from her Organic Chemistry class that happened to wander past.

“Granger!” she heard, and rolled her eyes. She and her friends turned to look, before taking in the stranger that was Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy. How are you doing?” she asked, giving him a smile as he came to stand at her side. He took in the two girls who were already waving their goodbyes, and shrugged.

“Same shit as usual. In town until the weekend and I figured you’d be good company,” he teased.
She shot him a small smile, before turning and entering the establishment.

Once seated and ordered, Hermione watched as he twirled his wine in the glass, before taking a sip. Seemingly satisfied, he took another, and then set his glass down.

“So how has life treated you in the past… what has it been, four years?” he asked in between sips, glancing up and pinning her with a piercing gaze.

“It’s been going fairly well. After graduation… after everything, I decided I needed a break. I’m currently in my senior year of muggle college. I’m getting a degree in Biochemistry. What I’ll do after that, I’m not sure. I’m thinking of applying for an apprenticeship back at home. What about you? I occasionally catch wind of DLM Enterprises. You appear to be making quite a name for yourself.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve always held a special talent for business. Right now I simply help small businesses gain enough capitol to start operations. I help dig promising businesses out of a rut. It’s interesting work. I only want to be doing this for another few years. I’m thinking of starting business with Severus.”

“Severus?”

“Professor Snape.”

“I know who he is,” she retorted. “Why him?”

Draco paused briefly when their meals came out, before taking a bite of his salad. “He’s my only remaining family. He’s hoping to leave Hogwarts and start business. He has well more than enough capitol saved up to do it on his own, but I have almost convinced him to allow me in as partner.”

Hermione briefly fell silent. She had not seen or thought of her old potions’ professor in quite a while. “How is he doing?” The war had been difficult on all, Severus Snape the most.

“He’s fine. Would you expect him to be anything different?”

“I hardly know the man. He was nothing but a teacher to me.”

Draco nodded.

“And how have your friends been?”

Hermione smiled, thinking about Harry and Ron. It had been several weeks since she had talked to either. It was the longest she had gone since the age of eleven without conversing with the boys. “They’re doing well. Ron is dating someone from the Auror training program, a girl named Rosalyn. Harry and Ginny are traveling… wherever their fancy takes them. Currently, I think they’re in Egypt, visiting Bill. Alyssa is in her fifth year, and loving it.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, relaxing with a lazy smile. “To think, two Grangers traversing the halls of Hogwarts. She was quite the demon, even in her first year. I’m sure she’s giving Severus more gray hairs than necessary.”

“I should go visit her,” Hermione mused quietly. “Do you think they would appreciate a visit from alumni after my finals?”

“Sure, they never seem to have minded them before. When were you thinking of going?”

“Oh, I don’t know. After the end of next month, I’ll be a free person again. I’m thinking of heading back to London. I haven’t seen my parents in quite a while. And I should visit Alyssa, check up on her.”
With that, they fell into silence.

“Well, Granger, if you’re indeed heading back, send me an owl. I’ll be around. Tell me if you decide to take up an apprenticeship, I might have some names for you. I’ve missed arguing with you.”

--------

“Awww, welcome home!”

Hermione was enveloped in a tight hug. Her mother had nearly dropped the book she was reading when her daughter came walking in the front door.

“It’s so good to see you mum,” Hermione replied, allowing herself to be led over to the couch. She spent the next thirty minutes telling her mother story after story about her time in France, answering all sorts of questions. She had tried hard to keep up with her family, but after a while, it became difficult – a day like today was much overdue.

“I’m back again. I think I’m going to try and apprentice somewhere in the UK. I haven’t looked around much yet, but I’ll be heading back to Hogwarts this weekend to visit with my professors and ask them for advice.”
She visibly saw her mother’s face fall. It was no secret that Teresa, while she was immensely proud of her daughter, preferred that Hermione remain in the muggle world.

“Hermione, dear,” her mother began, but stopped when Hermione shook her head firmly.

“Mum, it’s too much a part of me. I can’t disregard what I am.”

“You are my daughter,” her mother exclaimed, backing away a few paces. Tears welled up in her eyes, and Hermione’s heart fell. She hated seeing her mother cry. “I was so relieved when you moved to France to attend Uni. I just… I don’t know how to reconcile those hopes with this feeling of disappointment.”

“Why are you disappointed? I have a chance to be amazing, to be the best. I could never do in this world what I can do in that one. Mum,” Hermione said, her hands beginning to tremble and grow cold. “I could never be happy knowing I’d given up on the wizarding world. What will I say to my own children? How could I explain to the man I’m to marry about this huge part of me? Mum, I fought a dark lord, we won!” Tears began to well as her mother tried to dash away those that were now freely falling down her cheeks. “I lost a part of me in that war. I’m not the same person I was. I’ve seen death, mum. That changes you. I could never hope… no, I could never expect a muggle to understand that.”

She sank into the couch, dabbing at her eyes with the collar of her shirt. Teresa turned and walked into the kitchen. Hermione could hear the refrigerator opening and closing. She sat back, trying to understand where her mother was coming from. Her mother’s reaction was a prime example of why she felt the need to return. Her mother would never appreciate. The best she could hope for was acceptance. Hermione knew that she could never live her life with someone who merely accepted her magic, who pretended to be amazed by the stories of brewing the Polyjuice Potion at such a young age, or tried to compare the hollow joy they all felt emerging from the battle with Lord Voldemort to a life experience.

It took nearly an hour for her mother to return. Her eyes were puffy and red, but dry. She sat delicately in the recliner, drying her hands with a towel.

“I can’t forbid you not to go back there. I always looked upon your schooling as… a fancy. A passing obsession, I guess. I always felt you would one day return here, where you belong.” She gave a hollow laugh, before seizing Hermione’s hands in her own, pleading. “Please, give it a second thought. Please reconsider. I can’t stand the thought of losing you again.”

“Mum, you’ll never lose me. I will think about this more, but I do not make any promises. Do not get your hopes up.”

With that, she slipped her hands out of her mother’s and went upstairs to her room.

-----

Hermione slowly walked up the path to the castle from Hogsmead, her heart lifting with each step. Her mother had been silent all day. Her father, wonderful as he was, simply gave her a hug and told her to give it time.
“Miss Granger, dear, how are you?” Professor McGonagall greeted the young woman with open arms. “Do, come in, and tell me how you have been!”

Hermione smiled as she took in the hallways, the old statues, and the various paintings adorning the walls. Several familiar faces greeted her, inquiring as to how she had been.

Once settled into the Headmistress’ office, Hermione quietly stirred her tea, waiting for her former Head of House to sit down. Instead of seating herself behind the chair, Professor McGonagall settled into one of the large chairs by the fire, beckoning Hermione to join her.

“First things first, I believe, given that you have graduated and I no longer consider you a child, I ask you call me Minerva. May I call you Hermione?”

Hermione smiled, nodding. “That’ll be fine. Do forgive me if I slip up, over eleven years of ‘Professor McGonagall’ is difficult to get over.”

The elderly woman smiled, before sipping her tea.

“What have you been doing since you graduated? I tried to keep up with you, but once you moved to France, I was unable to do so.”

“I actually attended muggle university for a while, studying biochemistry,” Hermione began, cradling the cup in her lap, smiling to herself. “One of my loves was always science. I took the opportunity to expand my knowledge. I’ve decided I want to return home, though.”

Minerva gave a small nod at the use of ‘home’. She knew it meant more than London. “Do tell me more. I believe I have never met someone who majored in muggle science.”

With that, they were settled into a long conversation about the correlations between wizarding and muggle subjects. Minerva asked that Hermione show her muggle math. Hermione thought briefly for a second, before pulling out an old calculus problem. Using a pen she pulled from her purse, she briefly began showing the elderly woman a short problem. She pointed out each of the individual components, explaining them as best she could, before Minerva laughed.

“Hermione, I can barely fathom what you are talking about. I never once attended a muggle class, let alone learned about their subjects. Tell me more. What was your favorite class?”

She thought for a second, before shrugging. “Probably organic chemistry. It was like a huge puzzle to me, and puzzles are what I do best.” At Minerva’s inquiring look, she continued. “Chemistry tries to look at… all the individual atoms of any given substance at any particular time. Like… salt. Salt is made up of two different atoms, sodium and chlorine.” Minerva nodded, vaguely understanding what was being told. “There are over a hundred different known atoms. Organic chemistry focuses on a small group of them, and how they interact.” She drew out the structure for water, showing the big circle for oxygen, and two smaller circles for hydrogen. “This is water. There are tons of different properties of water, or things you can do with it.” She drew out a basic reaction from her first semester, illustrating how water affected the molecule. When she stopped, Minerva looked a bit amused.

“Nobody in the magical world has ever considered that. We just know that mixing these five ingredients together in this certain order produces this certain product. How would you know what each of the ingredients is made of?”

Hermione thought briefly. “Well, to be honest, trying to analyze the sheer enormity of potions as a subject would be a life’s dedication.” She stopped, an idea slowly forming, before she filed it away, to be contemplated later. You’d have to analyze each ingredient for its chemical makeup. I think the muggles might know the make-ups of several of our ingredients, especially the plants that grow naturally and locally. But I could, using quite a few machines in the muggle world and a bit of outside help, run these tests on our reactions.”

“Perhaps I should speak to Professor Snape. He needs an intern, someone who can assist in his private research, as well as stocking the rooms for lecture, and cleaning up after a lab, with the necessary paperwork. Once the war ended, Severus was given a grant from the Potions’ Guild to continue his work. He’s been swamped since.”
Hermione contemplated what it would take to work with Professor Snape. She wanted to do several basic reactions in the setting of a professional chemical lab.

“I would do it, on one condition, that he is okay with me. I don’t want to apprentice under him if he feels forced into it, and I don’t want him interfering with my outside studies. I’ve got a job here working a lab. In addition to performing research for them, I’m given access to all of the instrumentation there, which would allow me to perform my own experiments.”

Minerva nodded, and suggested Hermione head down to the hall. Dinner was approaching, and she knew Hermione wished to see her cousin.

Minerva pointed out a chair several seats from her own, and suggested she eat there. As the students piled in, taking their seats, the teachers also followed, some chatting animatedly amongst themselves, other in sullen silence. The most silent of them all was Professor Snape, who took his seat next to her, never once looking up. Hermione kept her head slightly bent, her hair falling in her face. It had lightened considerably, thanks to Lavender’s insistence. It was more of a honey blonde, which Hermione had grown to like. It still remained frizz central, but she had taken to using Lavender’s products regularly. It seemed to be helping.

Halfway through the meal, Professor Snape finally took notice of her. Or, he verbalized what he had known all along.

“Welcome back, Miss Granger,” he said quietly, setting his fork down and casting his glance over the house tables.

“Thank you, sir.”

He did not speak again. Once the students began to file out, he stood as well, leaving wordlessly. Hermione found Alyssa in the crowd, her blonde curls standing out amongst a sea of dark robes.

After an afternoon of catching up, giggles and gossip, Hermione made her way to Minerva’s office. She entered cautiously to find the elderly woman scribbling on a sheet of parchment. Hermione sat, sipping a cup of tea a house elf had wordlessly handed her, waiting patiently.

“Thank you very much, dear. I really hate dealing with the board. I do not know how Albus managed. Are you going to see yourself off?”

Hermione nodded, her eyes wandering over the portraits. “I believe my mother wishes me to stay at home for as long as possible.” She briefly debated telling the headmistress about her mother’s worries, before casting it aside. She was a grown woman, and did not need to trouble others with minor problems.

“I will owl you with word on a possible apprenticeship with Professor Snape. If he says no, I will send you a list of names I think you will find beneficial.”

They said their goodbyes, Hermione promising to return soon to catch up some more, perhaps this time over a drink, Minerva offered with a wink, to which Hermione responded with a broad smile. She rode the rotating stairs down, before heading resolutely towards the doors. She passed Filch, who merely nodded and continued on his way.
As she passed the hallway that lead to the dungeons, she saw a certain professor sweeping toward her, his face blank and his robe billowing. Good old Snape, she thought. Scaring everyone shitless, just because he can. The man probably gets off on it. Her face immediately flamed at the inappropriate thoughts, and she immediately clamped down on her runaway mind.

“Miss Granger,” he acknowledged with a nod, slowing as he approached her. She waited silently for him to give her a scathing remark. He simply looked at her, raising an eyebrow, as if prompting her to speak.

“Sir.”

“Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes, Miss Granger.” He did not elaborate, stepping around her and heading towards Minerva’s office. Hermione sighed, pulling out her cell phone, checking the time. The portable device did not take kindly to her spells, and with the lack of service, the battery was rapidly draining as it continually searched for a network. Satisfied, she walked the halls slowly, heading for the dungeons.
Once outside his office, she checked the time once more, and resolutely knocked on his office door.

“Enter.”

She pushed her way in, not forgetting how heavy the wood could be. She found Professor Snape sitting at his desk, grading papers with a quill. His eyes did not stray as she found herself a seat, once more, waiting. She was a bit irritated at his demands; she was no longer his student. A muscle in her arm twitched, begging to reach into her purse for her cell and check the time. She restrained herself, however, knowing the dour teacher in front of her would not take kindly to finally finding the person, in charge of the spell that allowed electronics inside Hogwarts’ walls. The twins found enough business in the marketing of the musical players, expanding their inventory to include the latest and greatest of musical devices, including an iPod.

“Miss Granger, I understand you are wishing to return to this world, and apprentice under a master.”
She nodded, hardly daring to hope he was going where her mind was.

“As I know Minerva has undoubtedly given you her word to speak with me about taking you on, I decided it best to skip the formalities and approach you myself, so that we may be clear.”

He waited, as though expecting the brunette in front of him to say something. She merely waited. He found himself impressed, not by her demeanor, but by her lack of anxiety. The young witch had indeed grown up, if only enough to quell the incessant need to bombard him with questions.

“If you wish to work under me, you may do so. You will be expected to take a vow of silence regarding anything done within your time as my apprentice. I do not wish for my findings to be revealed to the public before necessary. You will be paid a small stipend during your time, and will be allowed to live in one of Hogwarts’ spare rooms here in the dungeons. I will not expect you to do menial tasks such as cleaning cauldrons; those are best left for students who need to be disciplined. You may approach me with experiments of your own design, and if approved, you will have access to either the necessary tools or the necessary funding to carry out your projects.”

Hermione listened to his brief speech. He simply stared at her, his eyes blank, his face expressionless. “Thank you, sir. May I give you my own expectations?”

His eyebrows shot up, almost to his hairline, but a slight motion of his head indicated that she may continue.
“I am continuing work in the muggle world, in the field of science, biochemistry to be exact. My lessons outside of this world are my business and mine alone. I will not bring my studies into the potions lab, and I ask that you respect that boundary. I will most likely be carrying out muggle science reactions on my own time, and I ask that no magic be cast on them if you ever come across them, not even a diagnosis spell. I will also have a graduate class schedule that I will expect to be able to adhere to.”

Externally, she was calm, but internally, she was a quivering mess. Severus Snape was frightening on the best of days, and she felt like she was poking a sleeping dragon.

“Accepted.”

His silence was an assumed dismissal. She stood, thanking him.

“Please report to me in two weeks’ time.”

With that, she left.