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He found the journal on the train shortly after being instated as Headmaster, just before fall term. Severus had been meticulously going over every inch of the train, etching protective runes in discrete locations when he found the journal under a seat. If it hadn’t been warded to high heaven, he might have tossed it, instead he pocketed it for further evaluation.
It sits in a drawer until the evening of the welcome feast. Some men might tinker in garages or solve a crossword, but he liked something more complex to still his thoughts; the warding on the journal proved to be just the thing. When he breaks through the enchantment, the cover of the journal shifted at once, revealing the owner’s name neatly stamped at the bottom.
Hermione J. Granger
Severus frowns. Why would she use such intense wards? He turns to the first page. Granger has addressed the first entry to her mum. He flips through the next few entries until he reaches one addressed to her dad. There are evident tear marks on the page, and the ink has run in spots.
With a quick charm, Severus cleans up the text. His lips part in disbelief as he reads Granger’s apology. Apparently, she had erased their memories before returning to Hogwarts this last term. Only her mother had agreed to it. He remembers her heavy countenance last term; Minerva had indicated was due to some drama with the youngest Weasley boy. Why had she done it? Had she somehow known how things were about to turn out?
He begins reading the journal, enduring several entries that are the embodiment of teen girl and finding his curiosity piqued by others that portray a more innovative and thoughtful mind than he’d often credited to the girl. Unwilling to let himself be distracted, he uses a research spell to find only the entries that contain the name “Potter.” The majority of those entries prove to be useless as there’s little information within that Albus hasn’t already shared with him. There are only a few entries dated past that night at the astronomy tower.
Fear filled rambles.
A grief-laden “I-told-you-so” to her father.
A brain dump filled with little tidbits on horcruxes, healing charms, hiding places, and the start of a packing list. He rolls his eyes when he sees a similar list for Potter and Weasley—was there nothing they could do without her?
Then, on the last page, he sees his name. He blinks. Frowns. Rereads the entry. Severus stares out the window briefly, tapping his thumb on the journal to regain a sense of composure. It is not possible for the girl to know the truth. Her words are nothing more than a lucky guess and hopeful naivete and he knows that. But that doesn’t stop them from taking root. It doesn’t keep him from replaying them over the coming months.
When his colleagues and former friends glare at him in passing.
I still don’t believe Professor Snape betrayed Professor Dumbledore…
When he sees Draco walk the halls, a shell of the boy he once was but still alive.
…He made an unbreakable vow to protect Draco. If he hadn’t killed Professor Dumbledore, Voldemort might have killed Draco…
When reckless students attempt to hex him in the halls.
…don’t know if it was spontaneous or planned. Surely Dumbledore must have known. He wouldn’t have left us without a fight unless he knew we’d be safe…
When he sits at his desk and works through the detention slips, assigning punishments that are just harsh enough to avoid suspicion.
… Could never understand why he was so cruel, but what if it was an act…
When he directs his patronus through the trees until it reaches a lake.
… Maybe I just want to believe in him. Maybe I just want to believe that there’s someone more capable out there, someone who has a plan, someone who will help us…
When he is called to Malfoy Manor and sees bloodstains under a shattered chandelier.
… I’m scared, Mum. I’m scared about what comes next, scared I won’t be able to bring you back like I promised. I’m scared I’ll let Harry down. I’m scared he’ll die…
When he lies in a pool of his own blood, strangely at peace with the knowledge that Hermione Granger is the last face he’ll see.
… I want you to know that I’m not going to give up. No matter how scared. No matter how hard. I’m going to fight. I promise.
_____________
Three years later…
Severus sits at his desk, unable to focus on anything but his pending appointment. At precisely four she knocks on the door. He rolls his shoulders to shake off some of the tension before opening the door.
“Miss Granger, come in.”
“Good afternoon, Professor Snape,” she says as she enters.
She smells like oranges with a hint of patchouli and he resists the urge to inhale more deeply. He does not, however, resist the urge to observe her properly now that they are in close quarters. When he had last seen her, she had been hollowed out by war. Today she looks… vibrant. She radiates nervous excitement and it makes a lump form in his throat.
This is precisely why he has avoided her for the better part of three years. His attachment to the girl’s written words had compounded with the knowledge that it was her efforts that had saved his life and he knew… he knew that seeing the girl herself would be dangerous. Minerva, unaware of his pseudo-obsession with her favorite cub, had arranged this meeting.
“What can I do for you?”
“I would like you to take me on as your apprentice.”
“I do not take apprentices.”
“Then I would like to be your exception.”
He almost laughs at the irony of it. “My work here at Hogwarts does not allow for an apprentice.”
“It does if the Headmistress grants special approval for said apprentice to take up residence in the castle for the duration of the apprenticeship,” Hermione counters albeit a bit sheepishly.
He arches a brow. “Why me?”
“You are a preeminent potion’s master, both innovative and exacting. I would learn a lot from you.” She clears her throat. “I know that you didn’t particularly like me as student but—”
“That is not the issue.”
“But there is an issue then,” she presses.
He sighs. Deciding it’s time to put the nail in his coffin, he reaches into his desk and pulls out the journal. Hermione says nothing when he lays it in the middle of the desk, simply picks it up and turns it over in her hands.
“How did you—” She shakes her head. “What does my journal have to do with anything?
“You spoke more kindly of me than I deserved,” he says. “Your words… they carried me through one of the most difficult years of my life, Miss Granger. And then you saved my life.”
He inwardly cringes at the reverence in his tone. Hermione blushes slightly.
“I still don’t understand the problem.”
“For an apprenticeship to be effective, the master must remain impartial.” He clears his throat. “I am not that.”
“Professor, if you feel there’s some sort of debt between us, there’s not.”
“Regardless, I feel a particular… attachment.”
Her brow furrows at that. She seems confused rather than disgusted, but he’s certain the latter will come and she will make a hasty exit. To his surprise, her lips turn up in a small smile.
“I’ve felt horrible thinking of you struggling alone all that time. I’m glad to know my words brought you comfort.”
“I should have thanked you long ago.”
“It wasn’t necessary,” she says, shaking her head. Then she frowns. “But because of this you will not consider an apprenticeship.”
“I do not think it wise.”
“Because you will not be an impartial mentor?” She is looking at him like he’s a particularly difficult problem to solve.
“Yes.”
“There’s something else, isn’t there?”
His jaw flexes. “I… do not handle attachment well.”
Her eyes widen as his meaning lands. He braces. But then—
“Would you like to grab a coffee?”
He stares at her blankly. She blushes again but forces herself to continue.
“I know that our past is complicated, Severus,” she says softly. His given name on her lips makes the hair on his arms raise. “But I’m no longer the girl who wrote those words. And I don’t think you’re the man who needed to read them. I would like to get to know who you are now.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “Apparently you’re one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors.”
“They forget I loathe most people,” he says, lips twitching despite himself.
“All the more reason for me to press my apparent advantage.”
He can sense the nerves under her teasing. His brow furrows. “You are serious.”
“I’m curious. And open to wherever that curiosity leads.”
“Dinner tonight?”
She smiles. “Alright then.”