Hilltop Cottage

A/N: I can\'t resist when you say such nice things about my story, so here you go.... *sigh*... I\'m so weak!

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Hermione was sitting up in bed, tucked cosily beneath her bedclothes. A small lamp beside the bed gave the room some light. Across the small landing, Donovan was asleep in his cot, with an alert charm cast around it should he wake and need his mum in the night. It would have seemed to a casual observer that all was right with this contended family scene, but that wasn’t the case.



Hermione couldn’t sleep, for one thing. She held Severus’s note, still unread, in her hand, turning it over and over. Her whole evening had given her food for thought, not least of all Luna’s insistence that she should help research a cure for Minerva. How could she not, after seeing her friend so sick? She wished she could just wave her wand and make her better. But it would be even harder than that. It would mean talking to Severus.



Ordinarily, this wouldn’t faze her. They had been friends before, and although she wouldn’t deny she still had feelings for him, they could be friends again, she hoped. But it was different now, because she had Donovan. She would do nothing that would adversely affect her son, but she wouldn’t deny him his father, either. How she was going to fix it, she had no idea.



Her eyes fell on the note. The parchment was just a scrap, so he hadn’t written her a lengthy letter. It was probably something meaningless, but still she was finding it difficult just opening it, the thought of seeing his handwriting again making her feel like a lovesick puppy.



‘Stop being so silly,’ she muttered under her breath. With a slight pause, she opened the parchment, feeling her eyes prick with sudden tears as she stared down at his spiky scrawl.





‘As the former tenant of Hilltop Cottage, I visited regularly to tend the garden and harvest some of the medicinal plants.



I would be grateful if we could reach an amicable arrangement that will allow me continued access to the garden. The plants have been conducive to the improvement in the health of our mutual friend.



Please reply at your earliest convenience. I am sure Staff Nurse Weasley can convey your message to me in a similar manner.



S. Snape’



Hermione stared at the note and absently traced her fingers across it. For some reason, knowing he had been the tenant didn’t surprise her as much as it should have done. It accounted for the fact that he was rarely here, and that the rooms had been just as she had left them. It was comforting to know that no stranger had slept in the house.



Hermione glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the morning, and sleep was nowhere near coming. With a resigned sigh, she threw the bedclothes from her and padded quietly to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of cold milk and sitting herself at the kitchen table. She was pondering how to respond to Severus’s note, and realised that if she didn’t do it now, it would bug her all night and she would be exhausted tomorrow.



Taking a sheet of plain writing paper and a Muggle ballpoint pen, she wrote quickly.



‘Dear Severus,



Of course you can still use the garden. It’s yours.



Luna suggested I might be of use in your continued research for a cure for Minerva. I am offering my services.



We may no longer be friends, but I think we could work together amicably, for Minerva’s sake.



Hermione.’



Re-reading the note, she was pleased with the result. Any anger she had felt after the split had long been forgotten, replaced only with sadness and regret. The only positive thing that had come out of it was Donovan, who was now crying. She laid the letter aside and walked quickly up the stairs.



Donovan was standing up in his cot, his face screwed up as he cried.



‘Shush, sweetie,’ Hermione said gently, lifting him carefully and hugging him to her. Normally, she wouldn’t have brought him into her bed, but tonight, Donovan wasn’t the only one who needed a bit of comfort.



‘Come on, Mummy’s got you,’ she said softly, holding him as she pulled the covers over them both.



Donovan stopped crying and opened his eyes, smiling at her.



‘Mama,’ he said.



‘What did you say?’ Hermione grinned at him. It was his first real word. ‘Say it again, Donovan,’ she encouraged him.



‘Dada,’ he said, smiling and holding her hair. Hermione felt a pang, and wondered just how Severus would feel about Donovan, and if he had thought of him at all. They would probably need to have that conversation before they got any work done, she thought ruefully.



When she looked back at her son, he had fallen asleep. Gently, she took him back to his cot and added a warming charm to the room, before returning to her own bed.



***



Severus rarely received Owl post, which is why he didn’t bother to protect his breakfast when the morning mail arrived. He regretted it when a letter dropped and pierced the yolk of his egg, causing it to spilt and run onto his plate like an oozing yellow river.



He lifted the envelope and cleaned it with his wand, tucking it into the inner pocket of his robes without paying much attention to it. He was more concerned with what was happening at the Slytherin table, and cast his eyes along to Professor Slughorn, current Potions master and Head of Slytherin House. Severus tutted audibly, and Filius nudged a distracted Horace with his elbow sharply. Slughorn glanced at Severus, who looked meaningfully in the direction of the Slytherin students. Nodding, Horace stood with a sigh and wandered over to dispense what passed as discipline these days. Severus didn’t bother to watch, but stood to return to his lab. He had ingredients to prepare.



Severus had turned out to be a fair Headmaster this time around, and for the most part, he let everyone get on with his or her jobs without interference. His priority was Minerva’s health and getting her back to work as quickly as he could. His first port of call on this morning was Minerva’s office, laughing referred to by some as his office. He didn’t see himself as Headmaster. He was merely guarding the post for Minerva. He didn’t go in there very often, only for the odd meeting with Kingsley or one of the other professors, but he had left his gardening book in there the last time.



Entering the office quietly, he tried to slip in un-noticed, but to no avail.



‘Severus, my dear boy. To what do we owe the pleasure?’ Dumbledore twinkled annoyingly from his portrait, and Severus stiffened but ignored him. Walking purposefully to the desk, he lifted the book and went to walk away, but was halted yet again.



‘How is Miss Granger? We hear she has finally returned.’ Dumbledore was eyeing Severus closely, but he remained blank.



‘She has returned, yes. I believe she is in good health,’ he said stiffly.



‘Well, be sure to give her my regards when you see her, won’t you?’ Dumbledore smiled, and if Severus had looked in his direction he would have seen a smirk on his face.



Instead, he marched away without acknowledging the comment, until he was on the moving staircase and finally gave vent to the string of expletives he had tried so hard to keep at bay.



He was still cursing under his breath when he reached his lab. He slammed the book down onto the workbench forcefully and gripped it with his fingers whitening as he let out a long breath. Meddling, that’s what everyone was doing, and the gods forgive him, he’d had quite enough of it. The sly comments, the knowing looks, the hints, were all forcing his hand. He would see the witch when he was bloody good and ready to deal with it, and not before.



He turned to his storage shelf, pulling down a selection of jars and frowning. His stock was lower than he anticipated, and with a sense of dread, he realised he would need to go to Hilltop Cottage before the week was out. He wondered if the witch had read his note, then suddenly remembered the letter from breakfast and fumbled hastily in his pocket for it.



The sight of his name in her handwriting didn’t have the same impact as it might have done if he hadn’t been so keen to read her response. What did shake him was her insistence that the garden was his, and he was suddenly assaulted with a memory of three identical yet barren patches of earth and her enthusiastic face when she first showed them to him.



He read the rest of the letter and let out a slow whistle. It certainly hadn’t been easy researching Minerva’s illness by himself. Often he had wanted to bounce an idea off someone else, but the Healers at St Mungo’s, while not being hopeless necessarily, did not have the ability to think outside of their field of knowledge, and Staff Nurse Weasley was only as bright as her intuition. Research was not her forte.



But the witch? She devoured knowledge, soaked up details and information like a sponge. She would be the ideal partner…



His mind found its way to other aspects of his relationship with her, and he started to pace.



She had a ‘family’, according to the estate agent, which meant another already had her. She was no longer available, no longer free, and no longer his. She hadn’t been his for over a year, or perhaps longer. Wasn’t that why she had left in the first place, run away to America with her secret lover, the one she had denied, and lied about to his face? Severus growled in frustration.



There was no way of getting around the fact that he was buggered either way. He couldn’t avoid contact with her, because he desperately needed access to the garden. He also badly needed her help in finding a cure for Minerva if he ever wanted to be free of the hell he currently resided in. Yet there she would be, playing happy families, sharing what had been their home with another. He didn’t know if he could face it, but he had no choice.



As he scanned his jars of ingredients and double-checked the amounts he would need for the potion, he ran his fingers through his hair.



‘Damn it,’ he hissed.



Taking up a quill and a sheet of parchment, he started to write.