Chapter Text
Against all odds, Hermione Granger found herself hoping that this would work. Generous as her mentor was to her, Frank Nickle was still a fearsome wizard and after all he had done on her request – such as convincing the board that she could master in four subjects simultaneously – she could not, would not, give him additional work by terminating this apprenticeship before it had properly begun. Even if the thought sounded... tempting.
Sure, the potions master Nickle had arranged for her was the best in the field, and incredibly picky when it came to apprentices. Personal objections hardly mattered. Then there was the fact that he was a war hero. But the man also hated her, that much she knew, and they would have to spend months working together. It was likely going to be unpleasant at the very least. She did not want to know what it had cost Nickle to get Severus Tobias Snape to take her as an apprentice.
Hermione sped up her pace as she caught a glimpse of the time. Their meeting was in five minutes, in a wizarding café hidden somewhere in York. It must be hidden well, because this was her second time walking around the block and she had not found it yet. She sighed. Being late was probably the way to terminate the apprenticeship before it had properly begun, knowing the wizard she was meeting.
There. She only caught it because of the cat in the windowsill. From the outside it looked like a normal muggle home, if a bit old and dusty. But if you looked closely, the name of the cafe was drawn in the layer of dust on the window, with the instruction to ring the bell thrice. Hermione did so obediently.
The door opened to a young woman, short hair pinned back and with dimples in her cheeks as she smiled. “Come on in,” she exclaimed warmly. She stepped aside to allow Hermione clear passage. At the end of a narrow hallway, an arch led into a spacious sun-bathed room. Round tables were filled with guests and at the counter, witches and wizards danced around each other to get steaming cups and food to their customers. It still managed to amaze her – magic.
“Hermione Granger?” the witch who had opened the door asked.
Hermione nodded and smiled. “That’s me.”
“Mister Snape is over there.” The woman pointed to the furthest corner with a slender finger. “Anything I can get you, before you go?”
It took a minute for the question to register, because Hermione was at that moment stretching her neck to look over the crowd of people for a sign of her old professor. “Oh, uhm, tea, please.” The woman darted off with another nod.
The corner she had pointed to was significantly quieter than the front of the café, and it clearly allowed Severus Snape to read the Daily Owl undisturbed. His brow was furrowed as he read something on the sun-lit page and he did not look up as she approached. “Sir,” she said finally, standing right in front of the table. Dark eyes shot up to her over the paper.
“Miss Granger.” He pointed his attention back at the newspaper. “Sit.”
Lovely. Unsure of what to do with herself, Hermione pulled back the chair opposite him and sat down, hands fidgeting in her lap. She glanced at the man opposite her. He had changed since the war. That much was not a surprise – she was aware of what role he had played and just how straining that role must have been on a person. She had been there, at the Wizengamot, testifying in his favour. He had still been a pale and sallow man back then. Now, his cheeks were not quite so hollow anymore, and his skin was still pale, but less sickly. His black hair was not as greasy as it used to be, although it still showed the effects of spending too much time bent over a cauldron. And then there were the scars at his throat – no longer red and violent –
“If you are quite done gawking, miss Granger.” Hermione winced. The paper had already been put to the side and an impatient look had taken over his face.
A cup of tea was placed in front of her before she could apologise. She nodded her thanks to the waitress. When she looked back at Professor Snape, she found his eyes trained on her already, studying her. “Thank you for meeting with me, sir, I’m most –“ The impatience rapidly turned to annoyance.
“Honoured?” Snape provided. “Let’s not insult each other with empty flattery, miss Granger.” Hermione found she had nothing nice to say to that, so she pointedly held her tongue. This was going to be a long year indeed. “I am curious, miss Granger, why did you decide to master in Potions?”
“I find it an interesting subject, sir.”
Professor Snape waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Yes, yes, you were always the eager student. Your life’s purpose to be a know-it-all. No, what I meant is, why this subject and not any others?”
“I-“ Hermione started, but no words followed. Something flickered in Snape’s eyes. Whatever it was, it made her want to punch him more than his words had. The corners of his lips tugged upwards, into what could almost be described as a smirk. Almost, but that would be too close to a smile.
A finger brushed his lips as he contemplated his next question. “You always did well in potions, of course.” Hermione nearly started at the words. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Severus Snape did not compliment anyone but his godson. Let alone a Gryffindor. “But that was the case for all subjects. I would have expected a future in Runes, or maybe Arithmancy.”
Those had been her favourite subjects, both in school and in the two years of Master education leading up to this. It surprised her that he knew that though. “I suppose sometimes people are not what you expect, sir.”
This time she was sure she did not imagine the quirk of his lips. “Indeed,” he said, in what she supposed was a meaningful way. A folder appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her own picture beaming up at her from the table. “It says here you have mastered in four different disciplines. Am I the only one you seek to apprentice under at the present moment?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I will warn you that a Potions apprenticeship can be demanding, and the potions decide the work hours, not me. That being said, I firmly suggest you do not consider another apprenticeship until you have finished your Master’s project in potions. Understood?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
Professor Snape nodded, satisfied. “You will be at the lab every day from seven in the morning until six in the evening, but as I mentioned before, some potions will require midnight brewing sessions, I expect you to be willing to stay longer if this is the case.”
The idea of brewing at night sounded quite nice to her. She actually hoped that would happen during her apprenticeship. “I can do that,” she said enthusiastically.
The potion’s master’s eyes narrowed on her. He slowly opened the folder in front of him and glanced at the document. “Remind me, miss Granger, what is your suggested research project?”
Hermione’s fingers tugged at her cuffs. “I planned to work on an antidote to memory charms.” Her answer sounded confident, but inside she prayed he would accept it. Because that was the real reason she wanted to master in potions. If he now rejected this proposal... She could still see the empty look in her parents’ eyes when she’d obliviated them. She had to suppress the shudder that travelled down her spine.
He held her gaze for a few moments, as if he could see right through her. Then he nodded. “That is an... acceptable subject.” Hermione almost sighed with relief. “That is all I need to know for now, miss Granger, you will receive more information per owl soon. I assume I can trust you with my address?”
“Of course.”
A moment later, he had picked up his newspaper again, not paying her any more attention. “Good day, sir,” Hermione said as she pushed back her chair. He did not respond. Still, she thought to herself when the door of the café closed behind her, that had gone better than she thought it would.
***
"SNAPE?" The word rang through the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place.
"Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione corrected him tirelessly, "Professor Nickle arranged my apprenticeship with him." Harry slumped in his chair, a far off look in his eyes. Hermione knew the inner battle that was being fought now. It was the same as the one she was constantly fighting.
"Snape hated teaching, he bullied us for years!"
"He is a very talented potion's master," she countered calmly.
"He made our lives miserable. What if he will do so again?"
"It will not be a matter of our lives this time, Harry, only mine. And Snape is a war hero. Living with the constant danger of two maniacal masters, being hated by all - I'm sure now that everything's changed..."
"You mean to tell me he was nice to you? Or even polite?" Harry bit out, rubbing his temples feverishly. Hermione stayed quiet. She didn't want to lie to Harry, not when he had stood by her side for years. Of all her friends, Harry was the one who stayed, together with Ginny. They let her keep her room here for as long as she needed it. She'd tried paying them for it, but they refused every time.
"He was... his usual self," she finally admitted. "I don't have much choice in the matter anyway, and I am truly grateful to get such a talented teacher."
Harry's eyes softened, a small, apologetic smile curling on his lips.
"And with access to a lab, you can finally continue your work on memory charms." Ginny leaned against the doorframe, one hand supporting her stomach. "You should be getting to work soon, Harry."
"Right." Harry promptly rose, walked around the table, where he first kissed Ginny, and then put his hand on her stomach and muttered some loving words.
Ginny just ushered him off with another peck and some friendly insults.
"Good morning," Hermione smiled when her friend walked past to the counter. She earned a grunt back. "Not enough sleep?"
"This little monster here just won't stop kicking," Ginny sighed.
"How rude!" Hermione exclaimed teasingly. "I suppose they take after their parents." Ginny shot her a look fierce enough to make any other person cower, but Hermione knew her friend too well. She pulled out the chair next to her and patiently waited for Ginny to sit - which was neither a fast nor graceful process. "So," Ginny continued, munching on a piece of toast, "you finally told him?"
"Yes," Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly. "He took it relatively well."
"Hmm." The next bite crunched. "He might not admit it, but Harry has forgiven Snape a long time ago." Hermione snorted, but Ginny continued. "He's just worried for you."
"I can hold my own."
"I know," Ginny said, putting down her toast to properly turn to Hermione. "Harry knows, but that doesn't mean we don't want to be there for you anyway." They shared a smile. "Now tell me about your apprenticeship.”