Archive of Our Own

"Thank you, once more, to the distinguished class of 2002," Hermione Granger said to the sea of faces. "It is an honour to be commemorating this occasion with you all. Your class, like mine which finished only three years ago, has been through so much. 

"To be here today is an achievement. Through the reality of war, you were all been forced to grow up too soon. Yet I am intensely proud of the people I see before me. Whatever struggles you face as you step into adult life, remember your courage. Remember your cunning. Remember your cleverness. And remember your loyalty. Remember your strengths and support each other in your weaknesses. And sooner than you think, you will meet Hogwarts alumni who enjoyed their education here without the shadow of a Dark Lord over their first years. Remember then, with pride, the part you all play in making sure that that will be possible. I cannot wait to see this future you will all help build. Thank you."

Deputy Neville Longbottom took to the podium and spoke. "Thank you, Professor Hermione Granger, and congratulations on your appointment as Professor of Alchemy at St Mungo's," his handsome face broadened in a grin. "This is a bit like a graduation ceremony for you all. Thank you, congratulations, and well done. Safe journeys home to you all."

An elated roar rose from the graduating class, drowning Neville's last words, as over a hundred students pointed their wands to the sky. A bright array of different House coloured sparks lit up the temporary stands, reflecting off the Black Lake. The setting sun cut across the crowd of students, family, faculty, and Board members, highlighting the boats awaiting the graduates. 

Hermione locked eyes and shared a smile with Hagrid as he wiped his tears and waved the students row by row to the boats. The sound of him blowing his nose was thankfully drowned out by the whoops and applause but she smirked to see more than one student in his vicinity scurry to get away. 

The number of students was satisfyingly larger than her own had been. Despite being only a couple of years since she had graduated, it often felt like decades. Spying the look on Hermione's face as she descended from the podium, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall gave her a short, sharp hug. Together, they watched the boats row a final goodbye across the lake. 

"Why is it that the Board are so keen to celebrate yet they're tighter than arses in approving a budget. They're drinking their own meagre budget right there which is absolutely unreasonable," Minerva said. 

Minerva pointed at a merry group of Board members, gathered by a feast. The student seating had been swiftly replaced with an elegant mix of standing tables and a table to the side, heaving with drink and food. 

Hermione smiled. "Maybe now is a good time to wrangle them into submission, then, seeing as they're so well lubricated," she said.

A productive and delightful hour was spent discussing library funding with a dumpy older Board member, who Hermione thought was much like a short and round Percy Weasley. She had secured enough funding that she was certain Madam Pince would owe her at least one fine bottle of Firewhiskey. At that juncture, with the graduates long gone and the Hogwarts Express out of earshot, the evening air was filled with the chorus of arrivals as alumni Apparated at the gates for the unofficial graduation after-party.

"Oi 'Mione!" 

Hermione and Minerva turned from their Board persuasions to see her closest friends in a grinning group. Ron Weasley scooped her up by the waist and spun her around as Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Harry greeted Minerva. 

"Mr and Mrs Potter, it's good to welcome you back to Hogwarts," Minerva said. "And Neville, it would be a shame for that beautiful bottle of Firewhiskey to be wasted on the Board, so let us keep it here for ourselves shall we?"

The other guests kept a respectful distance, but Hermione noticed the interested gazes. It wouldn't be long before they were expected to mingle. The manic fame after Voldemort's defeat had faded but it left lingering expectations to be available for public consumption. Her hand ached to think of the handshakes to come.

"Put me down you oaf," Hermione said to Ron, who had lifted her slender form off the ground in elation. "It's only been a couple of weeks!" 

"A day without you can be too long," Ron said, in a suggestive tone for her ears alone. He grinned at her red face, winked and stepped away, turning to Minerva. 

"Minnie my darling, my bonny lass," Ron said, "I hope you have kept some of your summertime free for a lonely bachelor like me."

"Och, you will have to go nurse your broken heart elsewhere," Minerva said with an amused twist of her lips. "You have caused me far too much trouble as it is lad. A lifetime of it."

Ginny and Harry laughed at the comment, joined at the hip. They were never far apart, as hooked to each other as they had been since the Battle, and now that Ginny was visibly into her first pregnancy they were even more inseparable. Hermione almost felt stifled just to watch them. The Potter's engagement and marriage were one of the dozens Hermione had celebrated since the end of the war, but their wedding at the Burrow had been her favourite. 

Neville and Luna were dear friends, edging closer to engagement themselves. Together, they were all far closer than they had ever been in school.

It's funny, Hermione thought, how much better she was at making friends when she didn't have a war looming over her shoulder.

"I'll be in St Mungo's this weekend to see my parents," Neville said. "Luna said you should be free to come too, 'Mione? How are your parents doing?"

"Thanks Neville, I would love to. I'm still moving into my flat this week so I'll probably be living out of boxes, let's make it a lunch date."

"Boxes, really?" Ron scoffed. "Are you forgetting you're a witch, Professor Granger?"

Hermione elbowed him for the stale joke as the others laughed. "No, and for the hundredth time, not everything likes to be packed and unpacked with magic. Especially my alchemy equipment! Or my-"

"Books!" her friends finished for her in unison.

Hours later, when even the House Elves had gone to bed, Ron apparated her back to his flat. As far as Molly knew, Ron shared it with Neville.

"Neville'll be with Luna at her place tonight," Ron said. 

"Oh how convenient for you, Mr Weasley, but why do you think I'd care?" Hermione said, poking his chest.

"Some privacy makes it all the better to taste you like this, my dear."

Ron's tall, broad form leaned down and Hermione enjoyed the familiar, uncomplicated feel of his strong lips tasting hers. 

"Oh I see, Mr Weasley," she said. "We need to protect your reputation in these matters. Perhaps we should adjourn to the bedroom to be sure no one sees us."

The numb, brittle feeling in her chest that had been there since she had counted the missing students soon left. Instead, it was replaced with the warm and easy intimacy of Ron's clever fingers, mouth, and body as he pleasured her in all the ways she had taught him how. 

Life would be easier if she was truly in love with Ron Weasley, Hermione reflected the next day. As she packed her Hogwarts quarters, her temporary home over the last six months, she reminisced over how their dates had fizzled back into friendship. Things were steadier and more sure than before, now that they knew that despite some satisfying chemistry, they simply weren't right for each other. 

Molly had been the first to call her out on it.

"I'm a mother," Molly had said to her one day, "And life is too short to settle. It's best to enjoy what you two have without forcing anything else. Otherwise, you will make each other miserable."

Now, a year after their relationship had ended, Hermione found herself stepping into a new chapter. It felt like adulthood had finally settled onto her shoulders. The war was over, her apprenticeship was over, her puppy love was over, and she had earnt the title of Professor of Alchemy at the young age of 22. Her unconventional apprenticeship had been overseen by the portraits of Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, and she had made peace with her own adolescent mistakes throughout the years.

The rest of her life loomed ahead of her.

The wide-open opportunities of what was to come swooped through her gut like her excitable otter Patronus. A cure for her parents. A cure for Lycanthropy. As many books as she could fit in her salary and as gifts for Christmas, shelved to her liking from floor to ceiling in any room. Academically stimulating conferences by day and the uncomplicated, skillful company of fellow academics in her hotel beds by night. Her toes curled at the thought.

Everything packed in her Hogwarts quarters that had been her home , Hermione's dusty appearance in the Hogwarts kitchens for lunch earned her more than one glare from a House Elf. Even the summer heat could not warm up this part of the castle, and a fire was left burning to keep it warm. Sat on the small dining table she found Luna, who was laid on the like picnic style tabletop reading a Magizoologist journal. 

"Hello Hermione," Luna said. "I waited because I thought you would like some company. I see you stayed at Ron's last night."

As Luna had not yet looked at her, Hermione rolled her eyes. 

A while later, once they had eaten, Hermione fell into a familiar refrain. "Ron's so well trained in bed now though. I'll be sad when we do settle down with other people, and I'll have to train someone up from scratch!"

"A bad sex life could be caused by Gulping Plimpies, though," Luna said, "so make sure you check for any infestations before you point any fingers."

Luna's often outlandish theories were right on too many occasions for Hermione to dismiss it outright. In truth, Hermione thought her own bookish habits and bossy manners were far more likely to turn someone off than a Galloping Pimple for all she cared. That's why Ron was good. She knew exactly where she stood with him, and he with her. No rings or finances or other silly things to worry about.

"I'll check that out if needed, Luna, thanks. See you this weekend at Mungo's."

That weekend as she went to visit her parents at St Mungo's, Hermione's prediction came true. She was still living out of boxes. The lime green form of a Healer greeted her as she stepped into the fourth floor of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

"Miss Granger. I am Healer Patrick Bagby. I need to speak with you after you see your parents."

"Good morning Healer Patrick," Hermione said. "Have there been any changes with my parents?"

"No, no," Patrick said. "I have another matter to discuss with you."

They walked down the hall to the rooms where her parents stayed. He gave her a short  update on her parents that Hermione had had with many Healers on the Janus Thickey Ward. Her parents, recovered from Australia, still suffered the consequences of her memory charms. Comfortable and safe, however, was still better than the alternative. Hermione bottled up the brittle tension in her chest, swallowing down the regret and second thoughts. It was done, and she could only affect now and tomorrow.

For the Greater Good, as Dumbledore would have said. She had never admitted what she had done to his portrait.

After her graduation of Hogwarts, Hermione had travelled to Australia and found both Monica and Wendell Wilkins in a coma in a Muggle hospital. St Mungo's had made some improvements, but it was going to be a long road to recovery. If there was any road at all.

The friendly figures of Neville and Luna stood outside the door to her parents' room, sat across the hall from Neville's own. Her normally peaceful visit was tinged with the anticipation of her upcoming meeting, and she excused herself from their lunch plans to see Healer Bagby. 

Hermione walked down the hall to where he had gone. There she found an impossibly narrow door she had never seen before, with the plaque Healer Bagby in worn letters. She was surprised she had missed it, in all her dozens of visits.

"Miss Granger," Patrick said when he let her in.

"Please, it's Professor, or call me Hermione."

"Professor Granger," Patrick emphasised, "I know you thought this might have been about your parents but in truth I wanted to speak to you about an entirely different matter. I have heard a lot about you from my old colleagues, Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey. I understood you helped many of the faculty immensely after the Battle of Hogwarts and will be joining the Alchemy department as a Professor of Alchemy here soon."

"Oh, well, yes. The Headmistress and Madam Pomfrey were gracious enough to accommodate my apprenticeship after I became aware of my parents' situation. I had originally planned to attend university in America but felt it inappropriate."

"That is understandable. Now, however, I wanted to discuss with you a more long-term opportunity as part of your Alchemy work at St Mungo's. Would you be interested in hearing more?"

"Absolutely!" Hermione said. "Are you working on a research project?"

"Not quite. This is a project you will not have heard of before. I'm afraid I must insist on having your Wand Oath to keep this conversation secret, if we are to continue. If you would like to stop here, an Obliviator will be able to escort you out."

"Y-Yes, of, of course," Hermione said, shifting in her chair to pull out her wand from her robes as Patrick reached out with his. Her stomach quivered in anticipation of knowing something forbidden. "I swear on my Magic to keep this conversation secret from others."

"That should do. Now, have you ever been to the sixth floor?"

"Sixth floor? But there is no sixth floor."

"Indeed and you will do well to remember that. St Mungo's keeps an Unspeakable unit here, for Unspeakable healing potions and project work. It is a one-of-a-kind collaboration between the most public and most secret services the Ministry funds. In many ways, the St Mungo's Sixth Floor is able to circumvent the typical rules the rest of the Ministry must follow."

"And you have a job in this unit?"

"Yes, well deduced. It is a primarily potions project in combination with alchemy. You will be working with one of the top minds in Potions, a very lucky position indeed particularly when you have not yet worked in the alchemy department for any respectable amount of time. I have my reservations about this. However, long before you earnt your title, the Unspeakables department has been interested in your future. Especially since the incident in your fifth year."

Hermione blushed even as her jaw clenched at his condescension. "I have been grateful to lead a far less eventful life since the war, sir," she said.

"It must be boring, is it not? This project will involve a degree of induction and training before you are given clearance to learn all its secrets. This is standard Unspeakable policy. There is not much else I can say about it. Do you have any questions?"

"Oh, well, how much time do I have to think about it?"

"Another minute seems generous."

"And what of my Professor of Alchemy position?"

"In truth that is a position which has always been a front for floor Six. There is no Alchemy department, only a long list of defunct Unspeakable projects we publish to keep the department alive. Four galleons an hour, thirty-five hours a week, paid overtime. You will work Monday to Friday from seven o'clock in the morning until three in the afternoon, with one hour for lunch. Any problems Professor Granger?"

There was little else to discuss, and Hermione wasn't foolish enough to turn it down. Mysterious or not, the pay would be double what she had expected and her parents' private healing room wasn't cheap. Hermione left only minutes after she entered, Healer Bagby's door disappearing behind her as she left his office. She soon found herself in her half unpacked flat, feeling elated but much like she had had no real choice in the matter.

She dropped her head in the settee cushions and groaned. Well paid aside, she wasn't going to be able to speak about her actual work. That put a dent in her fantasies of academically stimulated sexual tension with fellow bright minds.

*

Your new place of work is at St Mungo's, Sixth Floor, in the potion's department

The parchment securing Hermione's rights within the bonds of her workplace Fidelius burst into ash once she had read it.

"Potion's department. Professor Snape would be furious," Hermione laughed to herself. She had practised her introduction speech three times just that morning in the mirror, to make the perfect first impression. She would not be a liability, she would be diligent, punctual, and achieve everything expected and more. She would be worthy of the title Professor . 

After all, she was the brightest witch of her age. If a little bit of a perfectionist.

Travelling to the sixth floor of St Mungo's was, unfortunately, the most exciting part of her first day. When Hermione saw her new workplace for the first time, it was underwhelming. 

The sixth floor looked less like the magnificent penthouse alchemy lab she had envisaged and more like a cramped dusty dungeon classroom in a forgotten corner of Hogwarts. 

Then, to her horror, Hermione found out she was right. Professor Snape was furious.

And he was her boss.

"Miss Granger," Snape said. "This is your desk."

He pointed to a rickety bar stool in the corner, next to a table which resembled a Muggle sofa laptop stand more than a desk . It wasn't even big enough to roll out a piece of parchment properly without resting the inkpot on the paper as well.

"If you can brew these independently, then I might consider whether you may begin an independent project as the Heads have planned," Snape told her. She bit her tongue but did little to hide the disappointed contempt on her face.

She grabbed the parchment he had flicked at her and made her way to sit on the rickety bar stool allocated to her desk. The stool was too tall and she grimaced when her attempt to fix it with magic bore no results.

The parchment was a list of potions that a third-year could brew.

"And what of the advisory and research work? When will I work with the student healers?" Hermione asked. She thought of the Professor of Alchemy position she had originally applied for. It was a prestigious role, or so the advertisement had said, teaching and working with the next generation of Master Healers while they completed their studies.

"A professor without any students," Snape mocked, as though he had read her mind. Her skin crawled to think that he might have. Hermione was careful to avert her eyes. "There are none. Not until the new year. Funding issues I'm sure you can go badger Healer Bollocks - pardon, Healer Bagby about, just keep me out of it . I trust you will be able to brew these without any instruction, silently, while some of us do some real work."

Silently? Hermione could be independent and silent. She could be so quiet the silence would ring in Snape's ears and be far more annoying than any reasonable, well-researched, and perfectly valid questions could be. 

She glared at him from where he had turned, his shoulder-length hair tucked behind one of his ears. The mist of the potion in front of him had made the room uncomfortably warm and humid, but he seemed unbothered. His skin was porcelain pale and the low ceiling made him seem even taller than the Hogwarts dungeons had.

Snape filled his corner of the room with a tangible presence that made Hermione envious - not that she would ever tell his inflated ego such a thing. The Prophet had written enough about his exploits since his heroic survival after the Battle of Hogwarts, which never gave Hermione or the Hogwarts house elves any real credit for the work they did to save him. No, Severus Snape was a dark anti-hero and as far as the likes of Rita Skeeter was concerned, had achieved everything alone. 

Hermione had given up on thanking Snape for his war efforts, ever since he had rudely cut her one and only attempt short at the first anniversary ball for the Final Battle. He could stuff it. Silence would be easy. The less she had to hear his voice, the better. Distraction was an annoyance at work, after all.

It wasn't precisely the glorious first day at work she had planned. 

*

Hermione found working in the cramped lab more difficult than she had expected. Even in the Hogwarts potions classroom, there had been more room to manoeuvre between desks. The risk of contamination, after all, was much higher amongst uneducated children than within a professional environment.

"You absolute fool," Snape finally said when she knocked something over with her robe for the second time that week. "I would expect an overachiever like yourself to not only brew potions but more importantly not destroy mine by rampaging in the lab like an uncontained hippogryph. Get rid of those robes at once."

Silence is a virtue, Hermione thought. Silence is a virtue. S-i-l-e-n-c-e. She removed her lime green St Mungo lab robes and hung them up with deliberate movements by the door. She didn't see the way Snape's eyes roamed over her figure as she turned away, a scowl on his face.

It so happened that she had worn an old Quidditch jersey that day, which Oliver Wood had given her after a rather sweaty tryst one summer - or rather, he had forgotten it, and never asked for it back. Hermione had found it a comfortable token to remember him by. Wood indeed. 

Her legs were almost worse than bare, clad in skin-tight white Muggle leggings so thin she could see a mole on her calf through the fabric and a sprinkle of leg hair she had forgotten to shave. It was over thirty-five degrees celsius in the lab. Thin, sporty clothing was all she could tolerate.

Maybe not the best choice, judging by the pinched look on Snape's flushed face.

"The last thing I need to look at right now is a nauseating display of your choice in lovers, Professor Granger," Snape sneered. "Go for your break and I expect you back wearing something professional when you return."

As it was close enough to lunch, Hermione grabbed her robe again and made way for the break room.

The break room, as she had discovered on her first day, was an unexpected feat of magic. The lift at St Mungo's was not only for within the hospital building, but from the sixth floor it could be taken to the Ministry's lunchroom. 

It would, after all, be awfully easy to know what an Unspeakable was doing if they were seen lunching in their actual place of work every day. Therefore, the dispersed workforce would break in the same room as the Ministry's Aurors, administrators, and governmental staff.

In the Ministry lunchroom, Harry and Ron sat at the corner table facing the door. They looked worn out, their Auror robes visibly dirty even from the door.

"Oi 'Mione!" Ron called. "Saved you a seat."

Hermione grimaced as he pulled his muddy boot down from the chair he had rested it on. A discreet flick of her wand cleared up the mud. 

The queue for food service was far too long for Hermione's taste, especially when she looked at what was on offer. Harry had a lunchroom tray on which he'd been served a greasy steak pasty and lurid green mushy peas. His mug was filled with the Ministry's standard mango juice. 

The juice was new, added to the menu only a few weeks prior as part of the Ministry's rebranding exercise. According to the recurring recruitment column in the Prophet, this was the new Ministry - not panicked and rushed as it was after the war, but calm, collected, and deliberate with its vision of the future. The advertisement for the juice had said it was Fortified for Future Leaders , giving them energy and good health while they served the country. Hermione was all too pleased she hadn't considered a future in politics. Formulating juice wasn't exactly high on her 'To Do' list for improving the world.

"Here," Ron said, handing Hermione a sandwich. "The food here is shite, but lucky for you I packed extra today just in case."

"He packs extra every day," Harry said. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"This is why I won't get married," Ron said. "Gotta keep them in the honeymoon stage where making lunch is a grand gesture and not a chore. Homemade lunch every time."

"Honeymoon stage?" Hermione smirked. "By the taste of this sandwich your mum's made it. Pea shoots, beef and mustard isn't an off-the-shelf mix."

"Whatever floats your boat mate," Harry said with a chuckle, hands up. Ron spit out his bite of food.

"Shut up. You're foul you are," Ron said. "I'll tell mum you said that if you do it again."

Hermione ate quickly and left the boys to their banter to go change into the only other outfit she had in her work locker. As she soon found out, a sleeveless unitard she used for working out at the Mungo's gym was also not appropriate sans robe.

"If you think your skin can withstand a potion explosion in that, rest assured I revoke the use of know-it-all to describe you ever again," Snape said in disdain.

"Oh dear, how would I ever bear that," Hermione said in return. Virtue of silence be damned. "Respectfully, sir, I need to stay cool enough to perform to your exacting standards."

Snape looked entirely too gleeful when he produced a set of lime green overalls. 

"This is not a request," he said blandly, but Hermione could see an amused smirk tickle the corner of his mouth as he turned away.

Hermione channelled her own unwanted amusement into a scowl - it really was a delightfully ugly garment, and she knew she simply had to get Ginny to lose a bet and wear one herself one day - but rather than be angry at Snape's laughter at her expense, it just made him seem a bit more real. 

A right bastard, yes, but one that actually could laugh. Hermione thought she might like to see that one day.

*

The work situation did not improve after her first two weeks, and Hemione wasn't feeling very amused then. She took her time with Ron to complain.

"He has started me on an independent project but he hasn't lessened my workload at all," Hermione said. "I'm being worked to the bone, have no support, and he has given me a word count limit on what I can say per day! It's juvenile!"

Ron, who at that moment was spent, naked and sprawled across her sofa, looked drunk with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"Who?" he said.

"Snape!"

"Bloody unspeakable unschmeakable. I thought you couldn't talk about this stuff. How can you think about work after I just shagged you twice?" 

"You're an auror, you already know he's an Unspeakable. I just can't say details. But he just- he just- it is intolerable and-"

"You have been working up a lot of tension recently, Mione, but for all your complaints you seem pretty happy," Ron said. His blue eyes were suddenly laser-focused and serious, a stark contrast to the languid sprawl of his body. "If it wasn't Snape I'd say you might like the bloke."

"Take that back," Hermione said. "You would not."

"Well don't spoil a perfectly good shag then love," he smiled, and his eyes went languid once more.

The unsympathetic responses to her frustration continued when Hermione visited her parents in St Mungo's on her day off. She found her parents were the best listeners when she really needed a good rant, as it always put things into perspective. Neville and Luna were there and they all enjoyed lunch together.

"I'm pregnant," Luna said without preamble.

"What?" Hermione shrieked, and to her surprise, so did Neville.

"What?" Neville said. "Pregnant like with a baby? My baby? We're having a baby?"

Luna's smile reminded Hermione of the Mona Lisa. She looked serene and secretive all at once.

"How far along are you now Luna?" Hermione said.

"Nine weeks," Luna said, her face proud. 

"I always thought you and Ron would've had one by now you know," Nevielle said.

"Oh no," Luna said softly, as Neville's hands grasped her flat belly in awe. "Hermione's work is her family."

Hermione grimaced at the thought of children right now, and heartily agreed - not now, and really, maybe never. Luna's tranquil face was too unnerving to comment on. 

"How is the job going?" Neville said, his attempt at a whisper too loud and more attention-getting than if he had just spoken normally. 

"Infuriating," Hermione said. "My boss is a tyrant, exacting, never gives even a hint of a compliment. You only know if it isn't complete rubbish if he doesn't tear it to bits. Sometimes literally!"

"Sounds like Snape," Neville said in horror.

"Oh because it is," Luna said.

"Luna!"

"Oh it's okay Hermione, we both have clearance."

"Better you than me," Neville said. "It's been good for you, though. Working there. You have a bounce in your step now, you know?"

"Real funny. Ron almost said the same thing," Hermione said. "If I have a bounce, it's because I'm sweating so much in that lab that I might just float away."

"You should look at using ever-lasting ice in your clothes," Luna said. "You can't use charms because of the ingredients but ever-lasting ice doesn't react with anything."

And thus, Hermione's plan started to form. It was payback time for the ugly overalls.

First, she had to research ever-lasting ice.

"Any chance you could get me some, Luna?"

*

It's a pity, Hermione reflected, that it had taken weeks for her to realise that one of the best unofficial perks of working as an Unspeakable Alchemist was her colleague’s arse.

Literally, a perk, as it was quite perky. 

Hermione’s amused scoff earned her a side look from said colleague and she was quick to busy herself with her own cauldron. Perky did not extend to Snape’s personality and she had no intention of aggravating him so early in the week. No, that was something she had decided to reserve for Friday afternoons, in the hopes of an early finish. There was no detention in the workplace, after all.

The hot flush she had worked up while admiring him strained inside her chest as she continued her work. Demand for prenatal and post-partum potions had skyrocketed in the past month and the routine recipes did little to distract her frustrated mind. It was still astounding to her that even the Ministry's post-war budgets, inflated by seized Death Eater assets, could not build a potions lab capable of comfortable temperatures. Not even for its Health Service. The issue, as Master Snape had explained in a sneering tone, was that centuries of recipes had been designed in specific conditions. 

When potions called for dark, hot, and sweaty - descriptors Hermione thought rather fit her boss at the moment - then any change could potentially destabilise the potion. Her rather Muggle-influenced ideals of enormous ceilings, bright lighting, and air conditioning simply weren’t feasible. Hence, despite being in one of the top floors, the St Mungo's specialist Unspeakable potions labs were dungeon-esque rooms of minimal square footage. It had, however, led to the revelation of Snape's hidden assets.

That morning Hermione had finally been given permission to work on an independent alchemy and potions research project. Her proposal was to find a cure for cursed scars, to transform damaged skin and organs back to their original state much like alchemnists transformed metals. Snape's neckline hid most of his own scars but she knew he of all people, he would benefit from such a cure, too. Maybe that was why his ego was happy to allow her such an ambitious project. Her alchemy project was still in its theoretical stage, and she was therefore keeping her hands busy with another dull order of prenatal potions before she could spend more time on research. 

Snape still upheld his ban on robes and Hermione had scowled to think that the heat of the stuffy lab didn't seem to bother him. Hermione had been able to embed her own clothing with a thin network of tubes filled with everlasting ice shipped by special Owl order from Lapland.

But Hermione had no intention of stopping there. No, it was time for Snape to get some cumuppance. Tense with glee, she cast warming charms on Snape's robes whenever she thought she could do it unnoticed. 

Perhaps he would have something embarrassing or inappropriate under his robes. Hermione smirked, her stomach taut with anticipation.

At ten that morning, she had seen his neck and temple shine with sweat. An hour later, he had opened his robes at the top button. Then, at last, four hours after her first charm was cast, he had thrown the robe aside. 

It might have been a testament to how long it had been since Ron had stayed overnight for a satisfying romp, but Snape was fit enough for her to do a double-take. He wore black muggle jeans that cupped his arse and emphasised the long lean length of his frame. The black button-free top typical of wizarding under-robe attire left little to the imagination as it was half soaked with sweat, clinging to the defined muscles of his back. His shoulders were broad, answering the long unspoken question Hermione had had about the potential use of shoulder pads in his robes. Two decades of Potions Mastery and undoubtedly thousands of hours brewing potions had left a positive mark. 

Mid-ogle, Hermione's wand buzzed with her timer for the next stage of her potion. She had the irrational urge to simply shove the vibrating wand down her pants to enjoy the view. She shook off the urge, grateful the potion work kept her hands and mind busy while she confronted her own thoughts.

Snape was sexy. 

Admiring his voice was one thing. Even in third year, girls had giggled in the dormitories about the Potion Master's admittedly attractive feature. Obviously, none of the students had seen his figure under those robes. 

She had already been guilty of looking at his hands too often, excusing herself with the thought that she was learning the best ingredient techniques. Now, Hermione would not be able to unsee the lithe form Snape had been keeping to himself. He looked strong and graceful with a predatory physique that matched his barbed remarks rather well. He was a poised threat - to her mental health, her work life, and now to her libido.

Once her potion was stable, Hermione mumbled out a word about lunch and made her way to the break room. The queue was long and helped her calm her nerves by the time she was able to grab a meal. She wasn't surprised to see Ron and Harry were were already halfway through their lunch when she found them. 

"Hello boys," Hermione said. "You wouldn't believe the morning I have had if I could tell you."

Ron whistled low under his breath, handing her his spare sandwich. "Got anything to do with that stranger?"

Hermione swivelled around in time to see Snape speaking in low tones with a rather attractive blonde, one hand on her lower back. The pair walked out of the break room, wands in hand, toward the apparition point.

"Reckon he's going for a quick shag mate," Ron said. Harry spit out his food in amused disgust.

"From what I've seen she'd be a lucky bitch," Hermione grumbled. 

"You've seen his dick?" Ron gaped.

"What? No! I wonder who that is though."

Snape wasn't in the lab when she returned from her break. The longer he was gone the more Ron's joke tied her in knots. How dare Snape frolic and disrespect their work while she was forced to work on routine potions any schoolchild could do. She had been on the job for a month and hadn't been able to work on anything alchemy related but in her own time which meant more hours than even she thought reasonable.

By the time her potion station was packed up for the evening well after supper time, Snape still hadn't made an appearance. This wasn't an unusual occurrence but Hermione was assaulted with visions of him and the blonde from the lunchroom. He couldn't have gone for the night, because his robe still lay on the bench next to hers. When she put on her robe to leave, she caught a bit of his scent on her collar where it had touched. Inhaling it more than strictly necessary, she stalked off to the apparition point before he could catch her in the act.

She had always loved the scents of parchment paper, newly mown grass, and the earthy smoke of a lab. It was, of course, just a coincidence that Severus Snape's robes smelled delightful. It wasn't because of him, it was in spite of him.

*

Hermione continued to work at a gruelling pace, often sleeping on her settee as it was only two steps from her floo. Her research into the alchemical properties of skin had led to more dead ends than not. It was an area of research full of more historically nefarious purposes than healing ones - the closest work she had found was research into how to repair a human skin-bound book. 

Her vision was, in short, to achieve the alchemical medium for Eternal Health, but for a specific purpose. The medium for Eternal Health, however, was yet undiscovered. 

Snape made sure to remind her of this on a daily basis.

"A bit ambitious for your first real bit of work," Snape said one morning. "You always were insufferable and Albus just amplified the flame."

"Noted, thanks," Hermione said. "If I didn't know your management style was all your own natural talent, I would have thought you were taking classes. You were wasted as a Hogwarts Professor."

"You are unmanageable. It's encouraging that you at least still recognise who is your superior in this situation. Make sure to get in the restocking order before lunch or we'll have to wait until next week. Again . We are running low on silver cauldrons," Snape said.

Hermione grabbed her wand, and with a choice wand movement, the stack of spare copper cauldrons transformed to a dull grey colour. The rush of alchemical magic tingled through her.

"Won't need the cauldrons," she said, her voice smug.

"If I wanted to Transfigure them I would have," Snape sneered.

"True Alchemy is not the same as Transfiguration," Hermione said. She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. "The result is permanent."

"You forget the original properties are not only the material itself, but the magical properties of where, when, and how it was gathered and stored," Snape said.

"As I said, true alchemy," Hermione said, no longer trying to keep her voice calm. "Which does consider that. Or, at least, Nicholas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore considered it. I sometimes forget I am their only combined apprentice and that some things are not common knowledge."

"What an achievement," Snape said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "If they truly believed in your capabilities, do you not think Flamel would have taught you what truly goes into making the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Who said he hasn't?" Hermione bluffed.

"As if a know-it-all like you could keep something like that to yourself. You're far too keen to shove your infuriating book smarts under every nose you can find."

"So happens your nose is the easiest to find of them all!" Hermione said.

"Careful, girl," Snape said. Hermione realised then that as they had spoken they had moved closer to each other. She had to strain her neck to glare up at him. 

"You be careful, or I'll tell Healer Bagby you're going for yet another lunchtime rendezvous out of the office," Hermione said.

"Rendezvous?" Snape said. His face went blank.

"You should be more careful with who you parade by the lunchroom with," Hermione said, her voice cold. "Everyone's seen you with that blonde."

"Blonde?" Snape said, his tone confused. 

Then his face transformed. Hermione watched in wonder as Snape barked out a loud laugh, then turned away. His shoulders were shaking with merriment for several long moments, and her stomach twisted itself into knots until he turned back to her.

His lips were curled into a downward smirk, but his eyes were bright and lively. He was enjoying this, Hermione realised. 

Her lips threatened to smile at the revelation and she had to turn away. She sniffed at her parchment with an air of nonchalance. 

"I'll send in the order," Hermione said. She was careful not to gloat when Snape took one of the newly transformed silver cauldrons and started to brew within it.

*

As a student, Hermione had given little thought to how Hogwarts was used when the students were on summer break. As an adult, she now appreciated Hogwarts most in the months of July and August when it was open to alumni and professors around the world alike for research, conferences, and, best of all, the Hogwarts end-of-summer gala. 

The gala's approach had put Hermione in an almost intolerably good mood. She hadn't enjoyed any real time off since she had started working with Snape - not even a whole weekend - and it had killed her sex life. She had the sneaking suspicion Ron had met someone as he hadn't been around in weeks and there had been no opportunity for her to meet anyone else. Tonight was the night she would find someone to have a good romp with to clear out the cobwebs. 

"Will you be attending the gala?" Hermione asked Snape that afternoon.

He grunted, not looking up from his cauldron.

"I'll be there, of course, as will Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville everyone really," Hermione chattered. "I have a whiskey with Minerva after the dinner every year too. I haven't even seen Dumbledore or Flamel since I finished my apprenticeship with them. I wish I had more to show them after two months' effort but can't be helped. Not when you're such a-"

Hermione cut herself short, her face flushed. She cleared her throat and busied herself with the potions order list.

"Oh do go on," Snape said at length. "Don't stop yourself on my account."

"Not falling for that," Hermione said.

"Shame," Snape said. "I may just cast a silencing charm anyway."

Hermione scowled. It wasn't an idle threat. Snape had done it to her before.

The required potions for the hospital took so long to brew that Hermione and Snape were late to the gala. By the time Hermione apparated to the Hogwarts gates, the gala dinner was underway and she skirted around the edge of the hall to her table.

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was filled with circular tables, its occupants all gallantly dressed in their summer finery. Many of the guests wore an Order of Merlin pinned to their chest, which matched Hermione's own First Class pin. Her dress was a navy blue Muggle gown with shimmering sleeves. Her necklace bore her alchemist pendant: a solid tria prima symbol, which shifted from solid gold to solid lead and back again.

For the gala, the high table was reserved for the Minister of Magic and the Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Ilvermorny. Hermione gave them all a quick nod as she scurried to her table, which was right next to the centre of the high table. She did her best not to notice the heads turning toward her in her peripheral vision. After two months in St Mungo's, she had gotten used to being a wallflower. At Hogwarts, however, being sat front and centre reminded everyone of the role she had played in the war. 

Hermione sat down with much relief. Seated on either side of her was Ron and Harry.

"Look who's able to leave her place of employment for something other than sleep!" Ron teased. 

Next to Ron sat a beautiful blond woman with delicate features, who Hermione thought looked familiar. Hermione grinned at her in approval when she elbowed Ron for his remark.

"Very funny," Hermione said, greeting Ginny and Luna on the other side of the table. She turned back to Ron and smiled at his companion. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Hermione, this is Astoria, Astoria, this is Hermione," Ron said.

"Oh leave him," Astoria said, holding out her hand to Hermione over Ron's plate. He made no effort to stop eating and simply moved his fork around Astoria's arm. "I was two years below you in school."

"I thought you were married to Malfoy?" Hermione blurted, then grunted when Ginny's foot found her shin under the table. "Sorry."

"Oh he tried, yes, and we were almost betrothed by our parents, but it wasn't upheld after I protested," Astoria said, her eyes sparkling with good humour. "I'd rather make my own choices." Her smile brightened as she met Ron's gaze, and they both blushed. The extra warmth suited Astoria's features far more than it did Ron.

"Lucky me," Ron said. He took Astoria's hand in his and gave it a kiss. 

"Oh gross," Astoria said. "You'll get your food grease on me!"

With a promising grin, Ron licked the kiss mark off her hand and Hermione looked away as Ron whispered in Astoria's ear.

"She's been to a couple Sunday dinners now," Ginny said to Hermione in a low tone. "It's getting pretty serious. It's also distracted Mum from your absence but don't think it'll keep for long, you're well overdue."

"I know. I know. I'm working too much, even by my book. Speaking of overdue, when are you going to pop again?" Hermione said. "You've doubled in size since I last saw you!"

"Due on Halloween, would you believe?" Harry said for her.

"It would be nice to make Halloween a day to celebrate," Ginny said. "It would be perfect."

"Your timing tonight was spot on," Ron said. "You missed all the boring bits, speeches and whatnot. Just food and drinks now."

"Boring is in the ears of the beholder," Hermione grumbled. "I was really looking forward to Headmaster Auilbert Fontaine's speech. He's not been this side of the Atlantic in decades."

"Which old fart was that?" Ron said. 

Astoria did something under the table in response that made Ron squeak. Hermione laughed as Astoria winked at her.

"You've not even had a full pint yet and you're being rowdy," Astoria teased Ron.

Ron grinned roguishly and leaned over to whisper to her once again. The pair of them giggled, eyes locked. Ginny made a gagging motion and drew Hermione into a familiar rhythm of conversation. She relished the opportunity to catch up with her friends and ignored the twang of Ron's attention elsewhere. He deserved a proper partner in life, and it looked like he might have finally found it.

Once the food was finished, Ginny and Luna, who was sat on the other side of the Potters, got caught in chatter about pregnancy and birthing methods. Hermione felt like a spare part amongst the couples. She made her excuses, then found her way to the library, her fingers itching for a drink and some academic conversation. And maybe something more. A hearty debate was her favourite form of foreplay, after all.

In front of the entrance to the library, there was a table for cocktails. Hermione tapped her wand on the menu and in seconds a large glass of chocolate liqueur appeared for her.

"Ah, Granger," said a voice. "Come."

It was Snape. Hermione grimaced at the direction of her thoughts at the sound of that word in that voice. She hesitated to turn. 

"Hello," she said. She took a large swig of her drink. It tasted rather like Snape's voice sounded. Hermione gulped the rest of the glass and tapped her wand on the bar for another.

"I shouldn't be surprised to see you here alone. Your friends have probably forgotten how to read altogether," Snape said.

"And you look like you've forgotten how to have friends," Hermione snarked. There was no bite in her tone and Snape smirked.

"You would be incorrect, simply unworthy of such a title. Are you jealous?" Snape said. "I was, unfortunately, tasked with finding you. I was asked by Minerva to give her apologies, as she won't be free for a drink this evening. Something to do with the Ilvermony Headmaster, I suspect. Nothing for your delicate ears."

His tone went even lower and almost suggestive as he spoke. Hermione shuddered to think of Minerva and Headmaster Agilbert Fontaine alone together. She also felt a pang of envy that Minerva had found better companionship and, as of yet, she had not. Admiring Snape only made her feel worse.

"And? Was that it?" Hermione asked.

"I have a book I thought you may be able to assist me with," Snape said. He gestured to the door. "If you would come."

Snape opened the door to the library, which at this point in the evening was still empty, and stalked into the room. From behind, most of his figure was hidden by his billowing robe but Hermione admired his broad shoulders and lean silhouette nonetheless.

Hermione followed Snape to a back corner, which lead to the librarian's office. Snape tapped his wand on the door and it opened for them both.

In the centre of the office was a substantial executive table made of dark stained wood, the top almost completely covered with an inlaid layer of dark marble. On it was a large tome of at least a thousand pages which had an embossed, leather-bound cover. Within the pattern the same tria prima symbol as on her pendant was gilded into the leather, shimmering from gold to lead. 

"It's an Alchemy text," Hermione said.

"Obviously. Professor of Alchemy and all you can say is, 'it's an Alchemy text?'" Snape sneered.

"I suppose then my expertise is not needed, the great and infallible Severus Snape is here and therefore, I will return to my evening."

"Miss Granger, that is not necessary."

"Neither is your sarcasm. I am the one doing you a favour, not the other way around." She folded her hands in front of her.

"Will an apology convince you to stay and continue?"

"I believe that might be worth the price of admission, yes." She said as a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Forgive my sarcasm in response to your astute observation," he said. "But this is not merely an Alchemy text." Snape ran his hand along the page, showing how the text swarmed and leapt onto his skin, sinking into his flesh without trace.

"This is an Alchemy text but like none I have encountered before, I grant you," she mused.

"Well, that was helpful. Thanks for your expertise, Professor Granger." 

He snapped the book shut, turning away as if to dismiss her.

"I'll tell you one thing I have learned about books at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. If one wants to get under your skin, you probably shouldn't invite it in."

"Well said," spoke a portrait. Hermione grinned as she turned to the landscape on the wall, which now held the grand figure of Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus, sir, it's good to see you," Hermione said.

"Yes, yes," Snape said. "Small talk another time. Albus, let us speak later."

"No need, no need," Albus said, then addressed Hermione. "My dear, it is good to see you. I have heard some wonderful reports about your progress at St Mungo's. I insisted Severus seek your help with this text."

"You are familiar with it?" Hermione said.

"It was meant to be Flamel's final work," Albus said. "A study of the potion of Eternal Health."

Hermione gaped in surprise. 

"Yes," Albus said. "I would trust the completion of this to none other than you both." 

Hermione's excitement was tempered to think she would have to work on it with Snape of all people. Working in the same lab was one thing, working with him on a project would be another. Snape's expression was impassive, the shimmering light from the alchemy text catching the panes of his face. She wondered if this favour was the cause of his somewhat more friendly behaviour this evening. 

Hermione couldn't stop her eyes from roaming over him in his gala finest. Snape was one of the few in attendance not to wear his respective Order of Merlin. His robes were fastened with the finely carved dragon bone buttons of a Potions Master and from this angle his dragonhide trousers left very little to the imagination. Her throat felt dry and she gulped down more of her chocolate liqueur. 

Trust Snape to be a distraction during the absolute pinnacle of her alchemy work so far. She should be ecstatic to be connected with Flamel's own research, a text so relevant to her own project. 

And yet, all Hermione could think about was if Snape would finally respect her for it. And what he might look like naked. No, she corrected herself, not naked - debauched. She imagined him dressed as he was, hair askew, buttons half undone and his trousers open just enough to grasp the weight of him in her palm, tasting him - 

Hermione realised the conversation had gone quiet for too long and cringed to see both Albus and Snape were looking at her with blank faces.

"My apologies, I missed what was being said," Hermione said.

"Are you alright dear?" Albus said. His eyes were twinkling and Hermione blanched to think of how obvious she might have been.

"She's obviously shocked," Snape drawled. "Too stunned to speak. I wish I'd known this trick sooner, it would have made working with her far more tolerable."

"Enough, Severus," Albus said. "Hermione, I would like you to work with Severus on breaking the wards on this text. I believe it will be essential to your own research. Flamel, unfortunately, thought it best to protect his secrets in written form and by design he hasn't preserved this knowledge in his portrait. He won't be able to help break the wards. But I believe there will be both potion work and alchemical work necessary to interpret the writings fully."

"You're forgetting something," Snape said.

"Of course, yes," Albus said. "First, Hermione, please put your hand on the book. If you are compatible with the wards on it, you will find the text will greet you much like it greeted Severus. Think of it like the Room of Requirement. It will recognise your intentions."

Severus . Hermione shivered at the sound of his first name again. She carefully lifted the cover of the large tome and placed her hand on the first illustrated page. The text was garbled, and after a moment it begun to swim on the parchment and crawled toward her hand. It jumped across the tips of her fingers and flitted up her arm, before she drew back.

"Splendid, splendid," Albus said. "You are the perfect pair to accomplish this. I wish I could help you more, but everything you need will be in the book. Now, enjoy your evening and I will await your updates."

Without further preamble, Albus left the portrait.

Hermione scowled at the now empty landscape before turning back to Snape. She was careful not to meet his eyes and was studious to avoid looking at his dragonskin trousers again.

"He was worse in person," Snape said with a sharp sigh. He eyed the almost empty glass in Hermione's hand. "There is nothing to be done tonight. We'll begin next week." 

Snape waved his wand over the alchemy tome and it vanished to parts unknown to Hermione. They left the office and there they found that the library had filled with occupants. Hermione smiled to hear the hushed, excitable tones in an array of accents. The gala was as international as Hogwarts ever became. 

The same attractive blonde Hermione recognised from Snape's lunchtime meetings was there, and she waved a delicate hand at Snape with a warm smile. Hermione's stomach dropped and she was quick to move away before she had to be introduced to Snape's lover . She was grateful that the thought of it made her feel cold - that was how she should feel toward him, leather trousers or not.

"Do try to enjoy yourself," Hermione said over her shoulder to Snape, and made her way back to the Great Hall to find her friends.

The circular tables for dinner had all been pushed aside in her absence and there was now a large dancing area. It looked far too large to fit even in the Great Hall and Hermione suspected a charm at play to enlarge the space. Hermione found Ginny and Luna lingering on the edge of the dance floor with Astoria.

"No luck with finding some academic discussion ?" Ginny said with a smirk.

"Oh I passed quite a juicy-looking French professor," Hermione fibbed. "But I thought I'd rather see you all, it's been ages."

"I've heard a bit about your legendary workload," Astoria said. "My boss has been very complimentary."

"Oh what do you do?" Hermione said, buzzing with intrigue. Unspoken was her surprise that Astoria bothered to work at all.

"I'm an Executive Assistant to my aunt, Cereus Greengrass," Astoria said. "She is Head of Resources for St Mungo's. My parents really didn't approve of me working but Cereus was supportive. I just couldn't stay idle after I graduated."

"I empathise with that," Hermione grinned. "So tell me, how did you and Ron meet?"

"Oh during lunch at work," Astoria said, her voice dreamy. "I spilled that horrid mango juice all over him one day and before I knew it we were both late getting back. He's just so funny."

"If you say so," Ginny said in disbelief. The women laughed.

"I heard the mango juice is full of Aquavirius Maggot excretions," Luna said. "It's very good for you. But it would be cruel to have to harvest so much."

"It's fortified," Hermione said. She drank a large mouthful to wash away the imagined taste of maggot excretions. "It's a bit like Pepperup. It gives Ministry workers more energy and ability to focus, and some vitamins and things."

"It's very good for pregnancy too," Luna said, as though she hadn't been interrupted. "It makes sure babies have strong cores."

"Magical ones?" Hermione said despite herself.

"Of course, what other cores are there?" Luna said with some disbelief. Hermione giggled to think that core types would be the one thing beyond Luna's realm of broadened perception.

A stray thought flickered at the edge of Hermione's consciousness at the mention of the mango juice, but the liqueur had made her feel too fuzzy to focus on it. She spent much of the evening with Luna, Astoria, and Ginny for company, before Ron and Harry returned off the dance floor. 

At some point, Ron had lost his dress robes and his undershirt was sinfully tight. Hermione smirked to see Astoria admiring it with hot eyes, belying her pureblooded manners.

"My my," Astoria said. "Ron, you're practically naked."

"Still too hot in here," Ron said, eyebrows wriggling. "I can be if you like."

"Dance with me, dear wife, beautiful mother goddess," Harry said to Ginny. He was flush with drink and his robes had started to skew. 

Ginny grinned as she was pulled to the dance floor, her belly leading the way. "Who said romance is dead?"

Hermione laughed to see Ron, equally unsteady on his feet as Harry, pull Astoria to the floor with them. Luna walked Hermione over to a corner to sit as their friends swayed to the music. 

"Where's Neville tonight?" Hermione said.

"He's harvesting Mandrakes, unfortunately it couldn't wait. Best I'm not there in my state, they attract Nargles," Luna said, patting her belly. It still looked completely flat to Hermione. "Now look, there's Severus."

"Severus?" Hermione said in surprise. 

"Yes that's Snape's first name, didn't you know?" Luna said. 

Luna pointed to where Snape stood, in a shadowed alcove behind the high table, not far from their seats. 

Snape looked extra sharp amongst the drunken crowd which seemed to blur around him. Hermione swallowed, her throat catching. She swayed to the music in her seat as she gulped the last of her drink. Now that she was sitting at a table, she was delighted to see a replacement chocolate liqueur appear courtesy of the kitchen's magic. 

"Magic is wonderful," Hermione said, slouching into her chair with gratification. "You're wonderful, too, Luna. I'm so happy for you and Neville."

Hermione soon lost track of time and was surprised to look around to find half of the dance floor had emptied. More of the tables were taken by whispering couples and Hermione was disappointed to see Harry and Ron were well occupied with their dates and Luna had somehow disappeared without her noticing. Hermione stared at a handsome couple across the room as they shared an intimate kiss. She sighed in envy.

"It's rude to stare," a deep voice said with clarity. Hermione didn't have to look to know it was Snape. 

Hermione looked up, her eyes owlish, to see Snape looming over her. Or rather, two of him. She squinted and his dancing silhouette stilled into one figure.

"Snape?" she said.

"How observant."

"Where's Luna gone?"

"She left several minutes ago," Snape said.

"Oh."

"Indeed."

"What'chu doin' here then?" Hermione went to take a drink and frowned at her empty glass. She put it down on the table and sighed when it didn't refill.

"Merlin knows what impulse led me here, but I think it's time we both left. Up you get."

"No, no, this is fine," Hermione insisted. She half stood then stumbled back into her chair. Snape, who had grabbed her arm to help, was almost pulled down with her. 

"You foolish woman," he said. "You're going to make a spectacle of yourself."

"Spectacle. Say that again," Hermione giggled. "Spectacular spectacle to spectate. Say that. And stay still, you're making me dizzy."

"I am not moving, you imbecile, you are."

"Rubbish. Come here, sit," she said. 

Snape sighed and sat in the chair next to her. He tapped his wand and her empty glass was replaced with a tankard of lemon water. Hermione gulped it down greedily.

"Oh that's nice," Hermione said. "You're nice too Snape. Very nice." She hiccuped and glared at him. "Don't tell Snape I said that though. Definitely don't tell him that he's got a perky derriere."

"I beg your pardon," Snape said, his voice choked.

"No no it's fine," Hermione said, her finger to her lips. "Don't tell. I can stay completely professional. Even though I just want to do this to shut him up."

She reached out a clumsy hand and grabbed Snape by the lapel, and tried to pull him in for a kiss. She was stopped by his wand's warning spark under her chin.

"Whatever hilarious prank you had in mind, Granger, you should have tried it when you were sober," Snape said. "I will get a Potter to escort you home."

Hermione hung her head and groaned as Snape stalked away. She couldn't resist turning her neck to peep at his billowing robes. The blasted things were still hiding his arse.

What might have been a minute or an hour later, she felt a hand at her elbow.

"Come along," Ginny's voice said. "I think we left you alone too long, let's get you sorted."

"Oh Ginny did you see," Hermione said. "I am so sacked."

"I didn't. We'll chat about it later if it still matters in the morning. But Harry's been vomiting all over Astoria's shoes for the past ten minutes so I don't think anyone noticed anything but that. You should be fine, whatever it is. Now come on, there's a family suite in Gryffindor Tower awaiting us."

Even in her drunken state, Hermione thought Snape witnessing her behaviour was humiliating enough. She didn't recall the journey to Gryffindor Tower but in what felt like moments she was sinking into a comfortingly familiar Hogwarts mattress, before she fell into a deep sleep.

*

Gryffindor Tower's rooms in summer were sinfully plush and generous. Hermione was relieved to find a hangover potion and a small breakfast on her bedside when she woke. Her nausea and dizziness soon faded, but the pain lingered, and she left her food untouched before getting dressed. In the common area, she could hear the voices of Neville and Luna.

"She's coming through now," Luna said, her voice muffled. Hermione smiled and took that as her cue.

"Morning sleepyhead," Neville said. "Got you a headache cure right here. Pure stewed mandrake, fresh from last night. Chew on that."

"You're a legend, Neville, thank you," Hermione said. She dropped onto the sofas with a relieved sigh as she chewed the mandrake. It was almost instantaneous.

Head clear, it was then that the reality of the night before hit her. She groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"Don't worry," Luna said. "Severus wasn't upset at all. He brought the hangover potions for everyone."

Hermione groaned further. "I'm so sacked. Or he's going to be a nightmare all week because of this."

"What happened?" Neville said. 

"I tried to kiss him," Hermione said.

Neville's handsome face froze in shock before he laughed. "Goodun."

"She did," Luna said. "I don't think anyone else saw it, but I was just leaving the Great Hall and spotted him talking to you, Hermione. Harry was spewing all over Astoria then."

"Ah yeah. I heard about that. Ron used it as an excuse to make a detour to the prefect's baths with Astoria," Neville said. "Bumped into them sneaking out when I was coming over here. Not been to bed yet. Some stamina that."

Hermione smiled. "Quidditch. And lots of practice," she said.

"Think it's gonna last between those two?" Neville said.

"I think so," Hermione replied. "He's not taken anyone to Sunday lunch before. Ginny said Astoria's been twice. I like her."

"Gin couldn't sleep without all her body pillows so they went home a bit ago," Neville said, regarding the Potters. "I've not had any sleep either after the mandrakes, biggest batch we've had yet. Are you okay to get home?"

"Of course, don't worry about me," Hermione said. "I'll probably just be looking for jobs anyway."

*

As it was, Snape made no mention of her behaviour when she arrived for work on Monday and Hermione spent several long moments convincing herself she was relieved, not disappointed. 

She found distraction when she thought of the weeks and months of satisfying work ahead. Hermione set off her list of potions to brew and before long, it was time for lunch. 

In the Ministry breakroom, Hermione grabbed the last available table before she bothered to queue. Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen, and after several minutes she realised perhaps they wouldn't be joining her. She grimaced to think of the lunch fare awaiting her and wondered if she could at least cast a notice-me-not charm on the table so she would have somewhere left to sit. Not ten seconds after she left it did a group of administrators nab it for themselves. 

In the queue, Hermione grimaced to see a group ahead of her consisting of at least half a dozen Ministry administrators, all women with baby bumps of varying sizes. She understood the desire to settle down and have a family, but it astounded her how many were now growing their families in a post-war baby boom.

Hermione selected a brie and bacon panini and thought longingly of Molly's homemade sandwiches. Mango juice and stale bread it would have to be. She raised the glass of mango juice to take a drink when she got a whiff which sent a tingle down her spine. Although it smelled wonderful, like freshly pureed mangos, it gave her goosebumps. 

Hermione took a tiny, careful sip of the juice. It was heavenly, yet she couldn't shake the odd sensation. The pull in her fingertips felt like the awareness of a magical core underneath her feet, as though she was walking past a sentient beast or a disillusioned wizard. She felt her energy levels build, like she had just woken from a long, clear night's sleep in her own bed and had three coffees without the jitters. 

It felt, in one thought, too good to be true. Hermione tapped her glass to seal the top of her glass and shrunk it so she could fit the juice in her robe pocket. 

No sooner had she done so than a shadow appeared over her table. Hermione jumped, ready to explain her actions.

"Good afternoon Professor Granger," the woman said. "May I call you Hermione?"

It was the blonde who Hermione had seen Snape lunch with and who had been in the Hogwarts library the night of the summer gala.

"Oh, hello," Hermione said. "I don't think we've met."

"Mind if I sit? There are no other tables," the woman said. 

"Of course not," Hermione said, tingling with relief it wasn't an interrogation over the juice. "I'm Hermione."

"Thank you. And yes of course you are! I'm Cereus Greengrass, Head of Resources for St Mungo's. Call me Cereus, please," Cereus said. "I've heard some very complimentary things about you."

Hermione blushed.

"Thank you. I believe Astoria mentioned you as well," Hermione said. "I understand she's working with you?"

"Oh I adore that girl," Cereus said. "Such a treasure. I love to see a witch living her modern beliefs. She was Merlin-bent to work and I'm delighted to have her. You must have known each other at Hogwarts?"

"I suppose," Hermione said. "It was a… segregated time when I was a student."

"Oh, of course," Cereus said, her voice soft. "Things have moved on so quickly it's easy to forget it hasn't always been so amicable for your generation. Especially since you were able to convince Severus to petition for your potion's mastery! At this rate you'll be Master and Professor before you're 25, which is unheard of! He insisted. How did you do it?"

"Sorry what?" Hermione said, her face draining. Her stomach dropped in shock. "Potion's mastery?"

"Yeees," Cereus said, drawing out the syllables. "This project of yours for the Eternal-you-know-what. It'll be your mastery qualification. It was why Severus hired you, Albus insisted. Surely you knew?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Hermione said in stilted tones. She felt stiff and awkward in the face of Cereus's easy charm. It was no wonder Snape enjoyed her company.  "Yes, of course. Sorry, I was just surprised you knew."

Snape had said nothing about a Mastery petition. Or apprenticeship. As far as she knew, she was a fully qualified alchemist dabbling in potions. A mastery? Hermione's hands shook. 

Was that why Snape had been pushing her to brew so much, so often, with perfect ingredient technique? It had felt like nothing more than his ego stifling her with his expertise.

"You're as brilliant as I've heard," Cereus said, unaware of Hermione's inner turmoil. "I hope you stay in your department for years to come. We could use you when our specialist cases come through. It's not often we need alchemy and potions but when we do, it's big. You'd be even more indispensable. I'd love to chat more about your research when it's published."

Hermione nodded along. The rest of her lunch break passed in a blur. It felt like hours, but less than half an hour later Hermione was back in the lab. She stood frozen in front of her cauldron, the stasis charm still in place, staring at nothing on the wall. 

A potions mastery . The extra energy from her lunch break was making her feel even more restless. Her potion for that day, a postpartum concoction designed to enhance breastfeeding, was little distraction and she couldn't bring herself to continue it. Hermione patted the mango juice in her pocket and with a quick glance to reassure herself Snape wasn't back yet from his own break, she took the juice out to start assessing the sample.

At the end of the room, Hermione used a dusty and rather neglected chalkboard to project a detection spell. With a flick of her wand, the alchemical nature of the mango juice glowed in bright and dancing lines across the board. Rather than a dull source of nutrition, it looked far more alive or even sentient. 

The door flew open and Snape stalked in with his usual manner. He froze when he saw what Hermione was working on.

"Did you drink it?" He said, his voice sharp.

Hermione didn't reply, gaping at him in shock. He hadn't used such an abrupt tone with her in weeks.

"DID YOU DRINK IT?" Snape roared.

"Why don't YOU drink it?" Hermione said.

Hermione unsealed the top of the glass of juice. With a shout, she threw the liquid at Snape. He spluttered as it hit him, the juice dripping from his mouth.  His face was taut with fury, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. 

"Foolish girl. Get out," he said.

"Make me," she said. 

He loomed over her and grabbed her by the shoulder, glaring down his nose at her upturned face. He hesitated before he spoke, his lips twitching. Hermione watched him in fascination as he locked eyes with her and leaned down as though compelled.

Yes, Hermione thought. Do it. Kiss me.

The juice glistened on his skin and his lips and Hermione felt the urge to lick it off. But then, Snape wrenched himself away, and stalked to the other end of the room. The tension buzzed in Hermione's ears and she felt more sheepish by the second by what she had done.

After many long moments, she flicked her wand to clear up the sticky mess. It vanished without a trace and Snape spoke then, turning toward her. His face was stony.

"I did wonder whether you would ever notice anything amiss," Snape said.

"Uh, I was just analysing," Hermione said, running her hands down the front of her shirt, avoiding his gaze. "The juice. I hadn't had any before. Not that I had much today, just a sip."

"Hmm," Snape said. He moved closer to her end of the lab and with a wave of his wand, the detection spell on the chalkboard froze in place before it could fade away. "And what then, Granger, did you discover? Call this an exam if you will."

The closer he came to her, the more he became a tangible distraction, rather like the buzz of energy from the juice itself. Snape's power always radiated off him and it was heady when he was angry. Passionate , Hermione's lizard brain helpfully supplied. 

"It's connected to the ley lines," Hermione said, her voice soft. "It's a drink, yes, but it's been infused with something - a potion and a charm I would imagine. The reading just then, it was phenomenal. It looked more alive than a drink."

"And what do you suppose the effects would be on the drinker?" Snape drawled, reminiscent of his time in the classroom.

On the chalkboard Hermione pointed to a solid orange line tinged with green.

"This is what you would expect from the juice," Hermione said. "But these other lines… The brighter blues can only be from ley lines. In a witch, wizard, creature or beast these lines would be a sign of life and a magical core. I cannot imagine what else could possibly make a juice read as though it's alive, except for somehow connecting it to the leys."

"Go on," Snape said. He crossed his arms. "So what would it do?"

"Well," Hermione said, her head cocked. "It would certainly boost energy. It would boost everything, truly. Cognition, immunity, metabolism, even - oh!"

Snape smirked as Hermione met his gaze, her eyes bright with discovery.

"Yes," Snape said. "Even conception. Boosting it beyond the capabilities of a contraceptive potion."

"The juice? It's the juice!" Hermione looked at the detection lines with a mix of fascination and horror. 

"Yes," Snape said. "Your predecessor contrived it, before falling pregnant herself and leaving work for good to start her family. Good riddance."

"It was deliberate?" Hermione said, her voice faint. She sat on her rickety stool in the corner before her legs gave way. "Why?"

"The Ministry could not stipulate anything in law that would compel the population to marry and spawn a new generation of brats, but they could ensure it in other ways," Snape said. He waved his wand at the chalkboard and on it grew a line chart, which showed a slow and steady increase followed by a rapid and catastrophic decline.

"This was the projection for the population a year after the war," Snape said. "Here, at the start, is the population a decade before your precious Mr Potter was born. After the Dark Lord was defeated by an infant, the population did begin to recover. But the second war was too soon, and it left a rather dire situation."

"Yes," Hermione said, looking at the sharp dip of the line. "But it's unethical!"

"Your innocuous facade might fool others, but I have seen the results of your own so-called unethical choices when you have had to do the right thing, however unsavoury," Snape said. "Umbridge and Marietta Edgecombe come to mind."

Hermione flushed. "I don't have to explain anything to you."

"Nor I to you, not least about this," Snape said. "What a fine and simple way for the Ministry to ensure its finest citizens reproduce as quickly as possible."

Hermione shuddered. "Imagine if the Death Eaters had had this. Almost unlimited energy."

"It only works on Ministry property," Snape said, but his face was grim with the same thought.

Hermione sighed to think of her friends now expecting - Luna and Ginny were only two of the dozens of expecting women she had seen in the last few weeks.

"Oh but Astoria!" Hermione cried. "I must warn them. Ron has always wanted a big family but-"

"No," Snape said, his voice flat. "This is an Unspeakable matter. You won't be able to tell them if you tried. Can you imagine the chaos, Granger? Don't be an imbecile."

"This is insanity," Hermione said. "It's not about statistics, this is about people's lives!"

"That is the point," Snape said. “There is a reason we are Unspeakables Professor Granger. The work we do is unspoken not for the things the public knows but that which they don’t. Not everything we do is palatable.”

"And what about my work? Your work?" Hermione said, her voice harsh. "How will they twist the Eternal Health potion if we finish it?"

"It'll be Ministry property," Snape said. "They'll do what they like with it."

"You can't be okay with that for one second, Snape, I don't believe it!" Hermione said. 

"Better the devil you know," Snape said. "And I've survived far worse Masters, you foolish girl. You should be grateful you're not brewing acid for Muggle water supplies or inventing curses to rot someone from the inside out! Stop being so idyllic."

"Better a fool than bitter and alone like you," Hermione sniffed. "Like I would've ever become a Death Eater."

Snape's face went even paler than usual and Hermione cringed to see the expression of hurt that flashed over his face before his glare returned.

"I'm s-" she began.

"No, not a perfect Gryffindor Princess like you. Better bitter than an unprofessional witch who takes liberties with her colleagues," Snape sneered. "I'd be glad to be rid of you, so if you'd like to transfer, you're always welcome. There's the door."

Hermione felt as though she had been slapped. She turned back to her brew from that morning, which now felt like an age past. The routine of it distracted her until it was well and truly time to go home. Snape didn't say a word when she left.

*

The tense silence in the work lab lasted for more than a week. Hermione regretted her words, and she had yet to broach the topic of her Mastery with Snape. The revelation of the mango juice felt anti-climatic in retrospect, although it had been all-consuming in the moment. 

The silence made her appreciate the little things that had built up during the weeks she had worked in the lab with Snape. The lab felt empty without the banter, and sinfully good coffees he was wont to make. In the week since their argument, he hadn't offered her a single mug of it. 

Snape, as usual, had been right. Hermione had attempted to tell Ron, Astoria, and numerous other friends about the mango juice effects, but found she couldn't mention or write down anything at all for their eyes to see. In one attempt, her note to Ron transformed to say, "I like big ducks and I cannot quack" and she then spent an hour convincing him it wasn't a joke parchment from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. 

Then, when she had given it more thought, Hermione was relieved she couldn't say anything. Ginny was close to bursting and Hermione couldn't imagine distracting her with the knowledge that her baby was because of some plot. On closer inspection, in fact, Hermione couldn't see any unhappiness in any of the expecting couples she observed. 

The mood was happy. Hopeful. It couldn't have been further from the mood of the war.

It wasn't going to get her drinking the juice anytime soon, however. 

She did wonder why Snape had been so upset to think she might have had some. More than likely, he just didn't want to have to brew all the menial potions again if she did get knocked up. The tosser.

Then, ten days after the Juice Incident, Hermione was surprised to see an unfamiliar face in the lab when she arrived to work.

It was a young man, similar age to herself, who had a fashionable haircut and a muscular frame which looked comically broad in the tight quarters of the lab. He was visibly nervous and hunched over into himself as he greeted her.

"Good morning Professor Granger," the man said. "I'm Apprentice Steve Potts, pleased to meet you. Master Snape has been contracted for another project for a few weeks so I will be assisting with the regular brewing in the mornings with you."

He wiped his palms on his robes, nerves building, and Hermione shuddered to think of his potential incompetence. She had flashbacks to Neville's performance in the classroom.

"Good morning, Apprentice Potts," Hermione said. "Will Master Snape be here after lunch then?"

"Oh yes," Potts said. 

She set out the list of potions to brew that day and got to work. 

Potts was adequate when he concentrated, but unfortunately that wasn't often. He wasted most of the morning with idle chatter and Hermione sighed with relief when he finally left for lunch, his cheery goodbye aggravating her tension headache.

Snape did not appear that afternoon until far after the lunch hour. 

"Potts was in I take it?" He said. It was the first words he had spoken to her in ten days.

"Hmm," Hermione said. She grabbed a second dose of headache potion from the cabinet and Snape smirked in amusement.

"He was as delightful as ever I take it," Snape said.

"I can imagine so. What has you in such a good mood?" Hermione griped.

"Since you seem to have forgotten, we are meant to be working on Flamel's journal," Snape said. "And I have had the foresight to ensure we actually make some progress, despite your inclination to mope around at the slightest hurdle."

"Pot, kettle," Hermione said, her lips twitching. 

Snape's shrug was the closest she would get to an apology, and it made her chest warm.

"Tell me then," Hermione said. "What progress? Shall we discuss?"

"From here on, afternoons will be for our work on the journal. Cereus Greengrass revealed the discussion she had with you so I don't see the need to explain further, but this will be your Mastery project for the afternoons and the mornings for technique and brewing hours. Understood?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione said. She tapped her foot with impatience. "So?"

"Your detection spell lent itself well to this journal as well," Severus explained.

Severus? Hermione's face froze at the thought. She glanced at him to see if he noticed, as though she may have accidentally spoken his name aloud, but he continued to speak as he pulled out the tome in question. Where he held Flamel's book, the writing within seemed to escape and crawl up his long fingers. Hermione resisted the urge to run her fingers up his wrist and see if it danced from his skin onto hers.

*

Afternoons became exquisite yet unbearable. Snape was even more gruelling now that Hermione knew what was at stake with the project, and she found herself working so often that the days blurred together. She wasn't sure when it was weekend or not, and she had set up a cot by her rickety stool as it was becoming too timeconsuming to leave the lab. Ginny and Luna had taken to ambushing her on her lunch break in order to see her at all, although Hermione suspected Harry and Ginny were only all too happy to spend the time together too.

It wasn't until she was called to the birthing ward in St Mungo's that Hermione realised Halloween was upon them. Hermione went home to her dusty flat to shower. Her reflection in the mirror was like a stranger. Her face was pale and thin and her hair, even after a fresh wash and being spelled dry, was unusually limp. 

Hermione arrived back at St Mungo's with guilt settling in her belly. She greeted Ron and Astoria in the hall, and they awaited news together with growing impatience. It was Harry's doe Patronus that welcomed them to come into the room. Hermione's heart stopped to see Ginny holding a tiny, still bundle to her chest where she sat in bed. Ginny and Harry both looked exhausted, but glowing with satisfaction.

"Oh he's everything," Astoria spoke. She reached out a delicate hand and shared a tearful smile with Ginny as they all gazed down at the sleeping newborn.

"I love him already," Hermione said, her voice thick.

"Congratulations mate," Ron said, slapping Harry on the back. He mimicked Hagrid's tone to add, "You're a father, Harry."

"Funny, mate," Harry said. "Gin, did you want to share the news?"

"Yes. Say hello to James Sirius Potter," Ginny said, her grin wide.

"You're sure you want that much trouble in your life?" Hermione said. "You're asking for it."

"This might be a good time to share some more good news," Astoria said, her eyes bright. 

"We're getting married," Ron said, his voice proud. "Eloping, really. You're the only ones who know. We're leaving, well, tonight - we wanted to wait until the baby came."

"No!" Ginny said with delight, clutching James to her chest, "Look, you've made me cry. Oh that's amazing, but my condolences to Astoria." Ron rolled his eyes. 

"Congratulations," Hermione said, her own eyes misting. "Let's let Ginny and Harry have a moment and we can go and catch up before you leave. There should be some coffee in the break room."

Hermione's heart felt full as she sat in the empty Ministry break room with Ron and Astoria. The self serving drinks station was thankfully still stocked.

"I'm so happy for you both," Hermione said. "I expect lots of photos from your honeymoon."

"Of course. How have you been?" Astoria said. "We've not seen you much, we've been so caught up in our own things."

"No, don't you worry. I've been so busy I hardly noticed," Hermione said. "Work has been insane. Tha man drives me insane."

"I did say that I think you might like the bloke," Ron said. His voice was teasing but his eyes were concerned.

"I do, alright, I admit it! I love working with him. I think the best part would have to be ogling his arse all day. And his voice, and those hands chopping ingredients!" Hermione said. 

"Oh dear," Astoria said with a wry twist. "I think you're right Ron. Now, tell us all about it."

None of them noticed the shadow that moved across the breakroom door.

*

Hermione walked into work the next morning, thrumming with joy despite the lack of sleep. To her surprise, it wasn't Apprentice Potts who stood in a lab but instead a moody Snape. He held a large stack of parchment.

"Good morning," Hermione said, her voice bright. "Did you hear? Harry and Ginny welcomed their son last night."

"If I wasn't already retired from Hogwarts I would now," Snape said, his voice snide. Hermione shrugged it off.

"Where is Potts this morning?" Hermione asked.

"Missing him, are we?"

"What? No, more of a relief to be honest," Hermione said.

"Right," Snape said. "As though you would prefer working with me."

Hermione felt something in her burst.

"I would, actually," she all but shouted, "You're the one who couldn't face the idea of seeing me for a full work day and so you left me all alone every morning with that useless bore who doesn't even have a single Mastery! I wouldn't ask him to chop an onion let alone a Mandrake!"

"Skip the dramatics, I heard you enjoy at least one aspect of his company. It's inappropriate to ogle your colleagues Ms Granger, I never would have thought you capable."

Hermione felt a bit sick even at the thought. "I've ogled that man as much as I ever ogled Umbridge, that's foul. Who in Morgana's name told you that?"

"You have to mind what you say in the breakroom, St Mungo's has ears and eyes all over the place," Snape said.

The sick feeling in Hermione's gut was twisted into a hot fury. The words flew from her lips before she could stop to think of the consequences.

"Oh does it? And did those ears and eyes tell you that the only arse I ever OGLED in the lab was YOURS, you overbearing prick? Get out!" 

A flick of the wand helped push the startled form of Severus Snape from where he was, pale with revelation, to the lab door which opened only a moment before he could crash into it. Another whip of Hermione's wand had a stack of research notes flying from Snape's hands into hers. The last thing he heard before the door slammed in his face was a load groan.

Hermione stood there for untold minutes after, flushed with embarrassment and the undeniable knot of tension Snape always wound into her. The research notes in her hands hinted at weeks of work, the weeks they had worked on the journal's wards together. Snape's familiar spiked handwriting filled his own margins where he had amended previous notes. The parchment was creased and well used, and it smelled like him - like thick, high-quality parchment and minty ink and the herby tones of a potion's master. 

*

Lunch with Ginny the next day at the recently reopened Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour found Hermione even more mortified and grateful for baby James's distraction. Ginny was an enchanting sight, glowing with pride and exhaustion in the way only new mothers could. Hermione could only marvel at the Mother's Magic helping both Ginny and James get out and about in the world so soon after his birth.

"There is no way Severus won't think I'm a silly fool who's incompetent without him, to boot," Hermione bemoaned. "His notes have made more progress than I have and he's not even working on it full-time."

"This is the same man who petitioned to get you the fastest Mastery in 20 years, only beaten by his own record."

"And who made it clear kissing was definitely off the table."

"When he thought you did it for some sort of drunken prank."

"Who even got an Apprentice in because he couldn't stand working with me for a full day."

Ginny's motherly smile turned into a smirk, and she peered off into the distance over Hermione's shoulder. "Maybe he found it uncomfortable for the same reasons as you?"

"He couldn't wait to get away from me, he found me that repulsive." 

"Or he didn't want to take advantage of you?"

"I wish he'd bloody well take advantage of me but at this rate he'll never even respect me, let alone find me attractive!"

Just as a shadow crossed over their table, Ginny's attention turned back to her son who had started to fuss. 

Ginny said, "Hello Master Snape, sir, why don't you keep Hermione company while I look after little James?"

Ginny, the traitor, had walked off with her adorable collaborator before Hermione could as much as turn around to confirm it actually was Severus Snape behind her. She took her time to look over her shoulder, hoping it was a prank, but he stood there in his lean, tall glory. Before she could stop herself, her eyes dropped down to take in his figure, sans robe, and the two mugs of coffee in his hands.

Severus returned her embarrassed scowl with his own. "The equitable Mrs Potter informed me this would be a good time to speak with you but she might have been mistaken. I brought coffee, drink up."

He got as far as putting the mug down on her table and was about to walk away when Hermione put a hand on his arm to stop him. The skin on skin contact felt like the electric warmth of her signature bluebell flames.

"Please stay, Severus," she said, voicing his given name for the first time. It felt comforting to say it. "We keep dancing around each other and I'm not sure we'll ever have a good time to speak. At this point I keep making it worse."

"It is a novel experience to be the more socially adept one."

"Says the master spy and manipulator."

"Yes, which I suppose can make expressing the truth a bit more difficult."

"Hmm. So. Why did you and Ginny discuss when would be a good time to speak to me?"

Hermione took the moment he thought about his reply to admire him over her cup of coffee. He looked as twitchy and embarrassed as she felt, which only helped the tension tie more knots in her belly. Severus Snape looking affected and human was riveting.

"Your friend may have been more perceptive about my reasons for leaving than you give her credit for," Severus said. "And so I may have asked her for advice on how to best approach this… situation."

"And what is this situation?"

The silence was almost as pregnant as Luna.

"About your project, of course, and the research progress. It's clear that you haven't been able to make progress--"

"Merlin forbid Severus!" Hermione's mug was slammed down onto the table, sloshing onto the linen. "No way in Nimue's knockers did you ask Gin for a good opportunity to speak about something you could damn well say with an owl. If you want to turn me down gently do it plainly."

"No, I--"

Ginny had returned with baby James sleeping on her shoulder, and Hermione took the opportunity to abandon the table. 

Severus caught her arm when she had made it to the street.

"Hermione, stop," he said.

"For what, Master Snape? I get it. I'm not a catch and I'm not a brilliant potioneer. I'm barely a Professor. Your career must be blighted by petitioning for someone as useless as me." 

"What a foolish idea!" 

"Foolish, you would know! Using your figure and hands and voice like you don't know what you're doing to a woman, acting like you care about things highly personal to me, never saying a damn word about what you actually mean! Why can't you just leave me alone? What the hell do you want?"

"You, you infuriating girl!"

And there, in Diagon Alley in front of a smiling Ginny Potter and other astonished patrons of the rebuilt Fortescue's, Master Unspeakable Potioneer Severus Snape grabbed Unspeakable Alchemist Hermione Granger by the shoulders and snogged her senseless.

The heat from his lips sizzled down into her core and with a flourish, etiquette be damned, Hermione apparated them both to her flat. 

They didn't leave it for several days. Owl order was a wonderful thing.

Later, if anyone asked the Snapes or their children how they had eventually discovered the nectar of Eternal Health, they had only one answer. 

There must have been something in the mango juice.

Finite