All characters belong to J. K. Rowling. This story was originally beta-read by Astopperindeath, with my continued thanks.

AN: This is the first fanfic I ever wrote, probably ten years ago, nearly, and if you've read my other stories I've recently posted, this might be noticeable in several ways. I'm not sure why I chose to leave this one until last. It may be because out of all of my stories, this is the one I would most love to re-write. However, at the time, I received much support for this story, giving me the confidence and inspiration to continue writing the SS/HG pairing. And even after writing perhaps more complex and detailed stories, for many this always remained their favourite. In light of this, I decided I should not re-write it. It is what it is, and without it, I would not have written any of the others. So here we are...

The Sun is Often Out

Chapter 1

Hermione had always wondered how long it would be before she ended up back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She hadn't thought it would take only a year, yet here she stood inside the gates, appreciating the impressive castle. She couldn't help but recall the last time she had been within the castle walls, when lives had been lost and Voldemort finally dispatched. The months following had been rather a blur for her, not least for the warring periods of grief and elation that the whole wizarding world had been going through, but also because Hermione, personally, had found she was unsure of where her life was headed. Such uncertainty hadn't appealed one bit, and she had thrown herself into a year-long work placement with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, within the Ministry of Magic.

At first, the stability of a regular job had contented Hermione; it was a welcome relief after the stressful time she'd spent hopping around the British Isles with Harry and Ron. As time wore on, however, she began to feel stifled and bored. She began longing for the times when she could spend hours in the library, researching, reading, and relaxing, even. She'd told Ron of her desire to get back to academia, but as she had expected, he hadn't really understood it. The letter from Hogwarts had only put further strain on their relationship.

Hermione strode quickly towards the doors of the castle as her thoughts turned towards Ron. She hadn't been able to disguise her pleasure at seeing the wax seal of the Hogwarts coat of arms on the envelope. She'd been more than surprised when she read the contents of said letter. Her old Head of House, Minerva McGonagall, had written informing her of a difficulty they were having in filling one of the teaching posts and, if she was interested, would Hermione mind meeting to discuss such an opportunity? Hermione could not deny that her heart sank a little when she saw which post was in question, and Ron had been bewildered when he realised she was actually going to give it some thought.

'Muggle Studies?' he'd scoffed loudly. 'Hermione, you can't seriously be thinking about accepting it!'

She'd told him flat out that there was no harm in meeting Professor McGonagall, and regardless of Ron's protests, that is precisely what she did. The thought of the meeting still brought a smile to her face—she'd missed her old teacher.

Six weeks earlier

'Professor McGonagall! How lovely to see you again!' Hermione grinned as she spotted the older woman at a table in the Leaky Cauldron.

'My dear girl,' she cooed, with her soft Scottish lilt, 'please call me Minerva. Thank you for agreeing to see me.'

'It's my pleasure,' assured Hermione as her Butterbeer was brought over. She was pleased at McGonagall's request to address her informally, but for the moment Hermione felt unable to capitulate—it would take a bit of getting used to.

'I'm sure you have been wondering why you've been offered the Muggle Studies position.' Minerva took a sip of her Gillywater and expectantly peered over the top of her glasses at Hermione.

'Indeed, I was surprised. I mean, besides my obvious Muggle heritage, I never studied the subject at advanced level; in fact, I dropped it after my third year—'

Minerva waved her hand dismissively and smiled. 'Ah, my dear, we both know that despite a lack of formal qualifications, you would have no trouble teaching it. I'm sure you could become familiar with the particulars in no time at all. What I am concerned about is that you would not feel it challenging enough or even enjoy it; but I confess I hoped you might be open to the idea.'

Hermione dropped her gaze to her Butterbeer, a little flattered at the professor's obvious desire to win her over. 'I have no doubt teaching any subject is challenging,' began Hermione.

Minerva gave a short chuckle of laughter and nodded her head.

'As you say, Muggle Studies was not a passion of mine, though I can't deny I was intrigued in studying Muggles from a magical perspective. Still, I am not certain I could do it justice.'

Minerva did not look put off. 'I thought you might say something like that. I'll tell you, Hermione, we have had enormous trouble finding a replacement since poor Charity Burbage was… killed.' McGonagall lowered her gaze for a moment and Hermione remembered the former professor, whom she had liked during the short time she had been taught by her.

'Then, of course, there was the abominable Alecto Carrow. Indeed, we were without a teacher last year, and classes had to be divided amongst other members of staff. The point is that the end of the war signifies an important change in the wizarding world. For those to whom it is left, it is imperative that another megalomaniac must never arise.'

Hermione could not have agreed more.

'As it is, Severus has—'

'Severus?' blurted out Hermione before she could stop herself.

Severus Snape—now there was a name she hadn't heard in a while. He'd stunned everyone with his miraculous recovery from the snakebite. It was still rather shrouded in mystery, and Hermione had no idea how he had managed it.

'Good Lord, I had completely forgotten he was still headmaster!' Hermione was surprised at her own obtuseness. The fact that it had been McGonagall writing to her and meeting with her had led Hermione to make automatic assumptions.

Minerva appeared to take her tone at another meaning, however, and she eyed Hermione sharply. 'That wouldn't be a problem, would it?'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'Oh! No, no, of course not,' she replied firmly. 'I was merely surprised. I assumed you had taken over.'

'Ah, yes, well, Severus felt I would be better placed to discuss this with you; he's not one for wooing potential employees.'

They both smiled.

'As I was saying, Severus—all of us at Hogwarts—feel it is important to try and eradicate the prejudice that lingers towards Muggles by some members of our society. I don't need to explain this to you, Hermione; you've witnessed it first-hand.'

Hermione nodded, completely intrigued.

'You must also realise the stigma that surrounds Muggle Studies as a subject at Hogwarts. Some consider it irrelevant, a soft subject—it doesn't attract many students. Indeed, half the time it is taken up by students who already have extensive Muggle experience, but wish to keep in touch with that side of their lives. Severus is hoping to encourage the Board of Governors to let him make Muggle Studies compulsory for students until the third year, when it becomes an option. Even if it is only one lesson a week, we think it can only benefit students.'

Minerva took a sip from her glass.

'Now, my dear, before this can happen we are looking to overhaul the Muggle Studies syllabus, which has admittedly become a bit outdated. Only then can a case be presented to the Board before the end of the next academic year. I think you would have the enthusiasm, imagination and commitment for such a task, not to mention the considerable intellect. Severus has agreed to offer you a temporary contract spanning one year. Therefore, if teaching is not for you, we will continue to look for another candidate who will hopefully be able to implement any changes you may make.'

Hermione rather thought that with the responsibility of such a project, she'd want to see it out herself, not someone else, but she was glad she wouldn't have to commit herself for too long, just in case she did hate teaching. There was no denying that Minerva's proposition appealed to her. As she would later explain to Ron, she was interested in Wizarding reform, and if she could be a small part of it at Hogwarts, where the next generation of minds was moulded, then it would be a privilege. It would be a great opportunity. It would be a refreshing change after a year at the Ministry, and at the end of the day, she needed a job.

In a fit of Gryffindor rashness, Hermione accepted on the spot, surprising both herself and McGonagall.

Later, Ron had just looked at her blankly when she'd tried to explain. She told him of the responsibility she would have, how she would love to make a difference to magical education, however small it might be. She'd also be able to pursue her own projects, with the use of the Hogwarts' library and the extensive experience of the staff at her disposal. It was a unique opportunity for her to continue her studies in her spare time.

Ron had rolled his eyes, commenting that she'd never got over not gaining her proper N.E.W.T. qualifications. Hermione had bristled, but deep down she knew she'd always felt that it was rather unfinished business for her, despite the fact that she technically didn't need them. Once things had settled down following Voldemort's death, the students who hadn't had chance to sit their N.E.W.T. exams were offered certificates based on predicted grades, if they needed them. However, most employers were ready to waive such requirements and simply accept teacher references in recognition of extenuating circumstances. Hermione hadn't requested her predicted grades, and she was probably the only student who was disappointed she could not have sat the exams.

She decided to let Ron have his sulk. Hermione felt guilty that Ron hadn't figured an important factor in making up her mind. Was she being selfish? Or was it selfish of her to stay when her heart just wasn't in it? She'd lain awake many a night wondering if she'd made the right choice, but she consoled herself by looking at a year's teaching as an experience for her to learn from, whether she enjoyed it or not.

And here she was. She'd left things a bit up in the air with Ron. He hadn't wanted to break it off completely, but Hermione knew it would only be a matter of time. They'd been coasting along for some time now and they both knew it, reluctantly.

A shout across the lawns of Hogwarts jostled her from her musings.

''Ermione!'

'Hagrid!' cried Hermione in delight at seeing the half-giant lumber towards her.

'Lovely to have yer back!'

As he squeezed a big arm around her, Hermione couldn't help but agree.

Professor McGonagall was waiting in the Entrance Hall when Hermione, plus Hagrid, entered through the main doors.

'Hermione, I'm so happy you agreed to this,' trilled McGonagall.

'Thank you… Minerva.' Hermione still felt self-conscious addressing her former teacher by her first name, and no doubt it would get worse when she met the rest of the teachers. Minerva seemed to pick up on her nervousness, for she smiled encouragingly and offered a few words of reassurance before leading her to her living quarters.

Hermione was delighted with what she saw; the rooms were spacious and included several bookshelves just begging to be filled. A large window faced over the expanse of the Forbidden Forest, and the smoke from Hagrid's house was just visible. She was already envisaging where all her things would go when McGonagall's voice broke into her thoughts.

'Severus sends his apologies for not being here to greet you, but he has been detained at the Ministry and will be back later this evening. He would like you to go and see him in his office at six o'clock; the password is Lacewing Flies.'

Hermione nodded, her nerves fluttering for a moment once more. She'd wondered where he was. Minerva soon left her to get settled, after ensuring that Hermione would come and meet the rest of her soon-to-be colleagues in the staff room, once her meeting with the headmaster was complete. Hermione flopped down softly on her bed and sighed contentedly for a moment before tugging her wand from her sleeve and getting right into unpacking.

About an hour before her meeting with Snape, Hermione ventured outside for a stroll around the grounds to enjoy the warm August evening, with the added purpose of clearing her head. The memories of her time as a student had been floating around her mind all day. The last thing she wanted was to be distracted. Sitting down on a stone bench, Hermione simply gazed around for bit. She'd never really known Hogwarts as quiet as this, with no students running about, no hubbub of sound permeating the air. It was very tranquil.

A rather shrill creak punctured Hermione's peace, and she swivelled round to view the gates, the most probable source of the sound. A dark figure was closing them before making its way up towards the castle. Hermione didn't need to look twice; she'd quite possibly recognise him anywhere. It looked like she'd be meeting her… boss before their allotted time. It was funny, really; she hadn't given it much thought, but yes, he was in charge. With a pang of foreboding, she wondered if she should have given it more thought. It was too late for second thoughts now.

Hermione hadn't set eyes on the man since the end of the war. With the Order officially disbanded, he hadn't ever turned up for one of their informal gatherings, organised by Harry at Grimmauld Place. She'd not asked Harry why he never showed, and for that Hermione felt a bit ashamed, considering the importance he had played in the war. She couldn't help but be impressed by him and all he'd done, very much in spite of the discord she had felt with him as a student.

He was getting closer, and Hermione noted with a wry smile that he looked the same as ever. She took a deep breath and stood up to greet him. His expression appeared to be inscrutable, and Hermione couldn't help but think back to the other welcomes she had received so far. She nearly laughed aloud at the vision of Snape bounding over to hug her as Hagrid had. He appeared to sense her humour, for he raised his eyebrow as he reached her, offering his hand for her to shake. Hermione took it with a small smile.

'Miss Granger,' he murmured.

The sound of his silky voice and the feel of the dark gaze transported her almost immediately back into the Potions classroom. She blinked the memories away. 'Professor Snape.'

A swish of his cloak was all Hermione was left with as he abruptly turned and made his way up the steps. Hermione duly followed and mumbled a noise of thanks as he held open the door for her. Truth be told, she felt immediately uncomfortable in his presence, and she wasn't sure why. It was likely the novelty of the situation, and Snape was hardly the type to make it easier for her. Indeed, she felt like an errant student as he led her silently to what she assumed was his office. Her supposition proved correct when he stopped at the stone gargoyle, and Hermione suddenly brightened with the realisation that she would soon see Dumbledore, or rather, his portrait.

Snape stepped off the revolving staircase and opened the door to the impressive headmaster's office. Hermione had only ever been in this room a handful of times, and it always fascinated her. What she wouldn't give to have a thorough exploration of it one day. A glance at the dark man hanging up his cloak reminded her that her curiosity would not be satisfied any time soon, if indeed ever.

'Well, well, hello, my dear Miss Granger,' came a voice Hermione hadn't heard in a long while.

'Professor Dumbledore!' Hermione's attention was drawn to the newest portrait in the room, hanging on the wall to the left of Snape's desk.

The old wizard smiled down at her. 'I was glad to hear you'd taken the job. I'm sure you are just what this castle needs.'

Hermione rather blushed at this, but wasn't quite sure whether it was from Dumbledore's comment or Snape's quiet huff that indicated his apparent disagreement.

'You must forgive me, my dear, but I will have to leave you and Severus to it; I have an appointment with the Fat Lady to keep.' With that, he hopped through several frames before he disappeared completely.

Hermione turned towards the other occupant in the room, who motioned with a flick of his hand for her to sit. Seating himself behind the desk, Snape rummaged around the papers laid out upon it, obviously looking for something. Hermione noted that his attire was somewhat different from what she remembered. He no longer wore the long, black teaching robe favoured by several of the staff; instead, his outer robe was of a heavier material, more befitting perhaps of a headmaster, Hermione decided. It was black, of course, with darker lining around the cuffs and edges. The only other colour visible on his person was the briefest hint of a white collar around his neck, tightly bound, as ever, by a knotted black cravat.

Her eyes were drawn unwittingly to the spot where she knew he had been bitten by that snake. She hoped there would come a time in the future when she could venture to ask how he had managed to survive that night in the Shrieking Shack. At the time she had thought he was dead, and she was no Mediwitch, after all, yet still a part of her wished she had done something herself.

Oh dear, he was looking at her now. Hermione returned his gaze steadily, all the while wondering to herself how a simple stare could make her feel so uncomfortably aware of her own inexperience; perhaps Snape would now remark that he'd changed his mind and decided she was too inadequate for the job. He didn't. Instead he unfurled a long roll of parchment with a flick of his wand.

'Your contract, Miss Granger; I trust Minerva has gone through the finer details that the contract will require of you—teaching hours, holidays, salary and so on?'

Hermione nodded. 'She has.'

'Well then, perhaps you have some questions you would like to put to me before we make this official?'

Hermione's mind went blank for probably the first time in her life. 'Uh, no, thank you, not at this juncture.'

'Indeed,' replied Snape smoothly, with just a partial rise of his eyebrows. Hermione thought he was a little surprised she hadn't launched a barrage of questions at him. She did have questions, but they'd abruptly deserted her on meeting him.

He dipped his quill in the inkpot on his desk before scratching out his signature on the parchment. 'Sign your name in the space next to mine.'

Hermione did as bidden and felt a quiver of nerves when, immediately after signing her name, the parchment rolled itself up with a snap and a piece of red ribbon materialised around it. She watched as it zoomed off to file itself within one of the many cabinets within the office. No backing out now, then—she really was going to be a teacher.

'Tomorrow you will be shown your classroom, as well as your office. Minerva and I will also take you through how to organise lesson plans in accordance with an agreed syllabus. We still follow that which was set out by Professor Burbage, but as you are aware, we would like you to formulate any changes that you deem appropriate and, by extension, I deem appropriate. Therefore, as the year progresses, make note of what works, what doesn't, what is missing, what is outdated, and so on. This is something I'll revisit with you at a later date, once you have had a chance to become accustomed to your teaching duties.'

'Of course.' Hermione was rather looking forward to getting stuck into it all.

'You have a few weeks before the start of term, and I'm sure that is ample time for you to get acquainted with everything...' Snape trailed off for a moment as if weighing his next words. 'Minerva assures me that you will do an excellent job and I have not, as of yet, any reason to contradict her.'

On balance, it was probably the nicest thing Snape had ever uttered to her. 'I shall try very hard not to give you a reason, sir.'

'Very well, you may leave and join the rest of the staff. I know Filius is dying to see you.'

He could not have said it more derisively, but Hermione decided to smile nonetheless. 'Thank you, Professor Snape,' she said as she stood to leave.

He merely nodded in response and Hermione made her way to the door. As she was closing it, she found herself glancing back towards him. He was standing, looking out through the large window, and she noticed his right hand come up to rub at his neck. She was oddly fascinated by the sight for a moment, before quickly realising he could turn around at any second. Hermione closed the door as gently as she could and breathed deeply. She was an actual teacher—'Professor Granger'. She hadn't felt this excited about anything in a long time.

The remaining weeks of August soon dissolved into September, and before Hermione knew it, she had completed her first week of teaching. Friday evening after dinner found her slumped in a chair in Minerva's office.

'Well, my dear, how do you feel now that the first week is out of the way? I know you were a bag of nerves beforehand,' stated the older woman with a smile.

Hermione sat up a bit straighter. 'I actually really enjoyed it. Well, once I got over the sight of all those expectant faces staring at me! Still, I managed to keep all my lessons from descending into mayhem. You really do need eyes in the back of your head, don't you? I don't know how you manage; at least there's no magic involved in my classes!'

Minerva laughed. 'There is no big secret, it's just years of experience. I have taught for longer than I care to remember, and as such, I've seen pretty much all there is that can go wrong—I know what to expect. Mind, there's often one or two students who keep you on your toes.'

'It's quite strange, though. It doesn't seem all that long ago that I was a student myself.'

'Believe me, Hermione, come Christmas you will feel like you have been teaching here for years. It just remains to be seen whether that will be a good thing or not.' Minerva eyed Hermione speculatively over her glasses.

Hermione thought for a moment. 'It's early days, of course, but I hope it will be a good thing.' She chuckled. 'Unless the Headmaster sacks me, of course.'

Minerva raised her eyebrows and there was disbelief evident in her voice. 'Why on earth would Severus want to sack you?'

Hermione tucked some of her wayward hair behind her ear and shrugged. 'Oh, just something he said a few weeks ago, along the lines of me not giving him a reason to contradict the faith you put in me by recommending me for the job.'

Hermione smiled in bemusement as the other woman snorted and shook her head.

'It was Severus' idea to offer you the job!'

'What?' exclaimed Hermione, genuinely surprised.

'Yes,' laughed Minerva. 'Oh, he was Slytherin enough to make it appear as though I'd suggested you, but I distinctly recall him nonchalantly dropping into conversation one day the fact that you'd finished your placement at the Ministry. I might have called him out on his bluff, were it not for the fact that I was eager to have you back here, so I humoured him.'

'Oh, I see.' Hermione was surprised to feel a peculiar spread of warmth fill her at the thought that Severus Snape himself had wanted her for the job. How had he even known she was finishing her Ministry placement and not planning on returning?

Minerva excused herself for a short moment, before both women would make their way to the staff room, where most of the teachers usually gathered to relax and enjoy themselves after a hard week.
In the meantime, Hermione's thoughts remained on the mysterious headmaster, for he was definitely mysterious, she decided. She'd been in the castle for well over a month, yet she'd only seen him possibly a handful of times. He'd been perfectly civil to her during the few times they had actually spoken, and Hermione was certainly not going to complain about that. She'd suffered her own share of his insults in the past and she didn't want to have to put up with them still. She would not put up with them, she told herself firmly.

Now that term had started, she encountered him more frequently, the majority of which were at meal times. Being, as she was, at the bottom of the staff pecking order, she always ended up several chairs away from him; chances, therefore, of striking up a conversation were rather low. The only significant exchange she'd had with him had been prior to the Welcoming Feast, and it still brought a small smile to her face.

She'd been standing in the small anteroom off the Great Hall with the rest of the teachers as they waited for the older students to be seated. Minerva had been out in the Entrance Hall, waiting for the first-years, and Hermione had found herself standing on her own, desperately trying to calm her nerves by adjusting and readjusting her robe. Out of nowhere, Snape's deep voice arrested her attention, and she'd spun round to find him standing nearby.

'Professor Granger.' He looked at her almost calculatingly.

She hadn't been able to stop her eyes from widening slightly at the sight of him. It had to be the only time she had ever seen any other colour apart from black or white on him. His outer robe was a very deep purple, really not worth mentioning except for the fact that it was so incongruous on Snape.

As ever, he'd known where her thoughts were headed. 'This is nothing, Professor. Just wait until you see my pink robes.'

His face had betrayed nothing, and for a split-second Hermione had wondered if he was being serious, until she realised the ridiculousness of such a thing, and she'd chuckled lightly at the vision conjured in her mind. It was only later, in hindsight, that she wished she'd come up with something rather wittier in response.

He'd proceeded to bid her good luck before moving to enter the Great Hall, and Hermione had been left feeling a little bit more confident. Still, that was several days ago, and she thought he might have at least inquired as to how she was getting on.

Minerva's return put an end to any more musings, and Hermione followed the elder woman eagerly out of the office, looking forward to a relaxing evening. She'd had her eyes opened recently with regard to some of her fellow teaching staff when it came to letting one's hair down. Never would Hermione have imagined Pomona Sprout knocking back the sherries with such abandon as she had exhibited a couple of weeks ago, during Filius Flitwick's birthday celebrations. What an experience that had been, escorting the inebriated Hufflepuff back to her rooms. She'd chattered on about the most random of things and had amused Hermione greatly. Clearly, she was still guilty of the childish perspective that teachers had no life beyond the classroom, but it was a transition to which Hermione was quickly becoming accustomed.

They soon arrived in the staff room and were quickly furnished with drinks. Hermione took a seat next to Minerva and Pomona, shortly joined by the school matron, Poppy Pomfrey, who was taking advantage of an empty infirmary. Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch were engaged in a rather tense chess game, with Horace Slughorn observing closely.

Hermione sipped her wine, and for the next hour the witches chatted, swapping beginning-of-term anecdotes, detailing the mayhem and mishaps that had befallen some of the first-years. Though not particularly quiet by nature, Hermione was often content to sit back and just listen to their conversation, especially when it concerned Hogwarts; she was quickly realising she had a lot to learn.

The room had filled with a few more occupants and Hermione was a little bit relieved to find that Sybill Trelawney was not among the number. She'd managed to avoid her quite comprehensively so far. Pomona, who had left to retrieve another drink, returned with a steaming cup of tea.

'Yes, Hermione,' chuckled the Hufflepuff knowingly, 'there'll be no need to escort me tonight. I don't get into that state during term-time. What kind of example would I be setting my impressionable firsties, hmm?'

They all giggled at the image.

Suddenly the fireplace in the centre of the room glowed green, and a tall figure unfurled itself from the grate. It was Snape. He nodded in greeting at their little enclave, mumbled something towards the others, and, pouring himself a hefty measure of Firewhisky, he slumped elegantly into a nearby armchair.

From the moment he'd stepped out of the fireplace, Hermione watched in some interest. She'd never seen him looking so... un-Snapelike. He had shed his heavy outer-robe, and Hermione couldn't help but examine what that revealed underneath. Most strikingly, she noted he'd loosened his black cravat slightly, allowing the collar of his shirt to droop, which in turn caused his throat to be partially uncovered.

Hermione managed to finally wrest her eyes away, lest anyone comment on her preoccupation. She swallowed uncomfortably as a slow blush flooded her cheeks. She didn't know where to look. She felt like some ridiculously repressed Victorian gentleman, swooning over the sight of an exposed feminine ankle. Why was he here? He never appeared as one for socialising, and why did he have to come in looking like that? Perhaps she was drunk? Merlin, she hoped so.

'Poor Severus,' clucked Madam Pomfrey. 'The start of term is always the hardest.'

Minerva hummed in response, but Hermione could only manage a weak, 'Oh?'

'Indeed, my dear, we often get homesick children writing home saying they are unhappy, and that in turn brings a lot of letters from concerned parents, especially Muggle parents who are probably only just coming to terms with the existence of magic, let alone anything else.'

Hermione was suddenly reminded of her own first few weeks there. She'd also been unhappy, but the thought of learning magic had been so thrilling it had outweighed the fact that she was having difficulty making friends.

'There are angry parents, too,' muttered Minerva darkly. Hermione watched the other women shake their heads in disgust. Minerva elaborated in an undertone at her expectant look. 'They get a bit personal with him, questioning his right to be headmaster after being a Death Eater, thinking it will get him to oblige their ridiculous demands. Dumbledore was not exempt from such tactics, either; he had his share of difficult parents over the years. I think Severus finds it harder to rise above it, though he'd never admit to it,' finished Minerva with a small smile.

Hermione was shocked. 'After everything he did during the war?'

Hermione chanced another glance in the direction of the topic of their conversation. When she saw him, she was relieved to find her faculties did not desert her a second time. Clearly, she had been suffering from a "funny five minutes," as her mother would say. Indeed, as she watched him stare unblinkingly into the fire with his tumbler balanced in his hand, Hermione felt rather uncharitable for her earlier affront that he hadn't spoken to her about her lessons this week. Instead, she would just take it as a sign that he had faith in her abilities.

'Severus!' cried Flitwick in his high-pitched voice. 'I've just dispatched Horace here. How'd you fancy your chances?'

Snape blinked and turned to the diminutive professor, who was sorting out the chess pieces. He drained the remains of his whisky, and Hermione observed him making his way over to the table.

'I think you'll find the question, "How do you fancy yours?" more pertinent. I trust you remember the pitiable state I left you in the last time?' said Snape haughtily.

'I was rather dire, wasn't I?' lamented Flitwick sombrely.

'Completely,' agreed Snape.

Hermione thought she might have even witnessed a small smile from him. He appeared to have a good rapport with his staff, particularly with the older members, and Hermione found she would like to have that with him, too. Perhaps be friends of sorts… She snorted inwardly at her own thoughts. He'd likely never see her as anything other than a thorn in his side. If so, maybe they could at least have informality; he seemed to call everyone else by their first names, after all.

Minerva and Pomona were soon taking their leave to check that their respective Houses were adhering to 'Lights Out' and then to check the corridors before retiring themselves. Hermione made to leave shortly thereafter, the thought of her comfy four-poster proving too tempting. Plus, she had a big day tomorrow; she was going to meet Ron in Hogsmeade, and it was a meeting she was both anticipating and dreading.

'I suppose I thought a few weeks apart might make us realise what we had… That we missed each other...' Ron smoothed a hand through his red hair rather self-consciously.

Hermione sighed heavily, hating herself for what she had to say. 'Of course, I've missed you, Ron... but as a friend...'

His eyes dropped to the table for several moments before he spoke once more. 'I think I knew that, deep down. I can't believe it's over, but even I can't deny that you look happy here. I am truly glad for you, Hermione, and I'm sorry if it's taken me a while to show it.'

'Don't be silly, Ron, you have nothing to be sorry for,' said Hermione with a slight quaver in her voice.

They both sat in silence for a few minutes, and Hermione wondered if things could have been different between them. Was she doing the right thing, holing herself up in a draughty castle away from her friends, away from Ron? She wasn't sure; only time would tell in that respect. But there was one thing she did know, and it was regardless of where she lived and worked: her relationship with Ron had run its course. For some time, she had begun to suspect that Ron was more focused on the idea of them as couple, more than actually being a couple. Maybe it was the result of growing up in a large family, but she knew he'd envisaged the four of them, including Harry and Ginny, to live as one big extended family.

She owed it to him to be honest and could now only be grateful for the fact that it had ended amicably.

They hugged each other goodbye with the promise that they would get together soon, along with Harry and Ginny. Still, Hermione could not help feeling down as she returned to the castle for dinner. It was a feeling that persisted well into the evening, and Hermione longed for something to turn her mind to. It was Saturday night, and she had no marking, her lesson plans were perfectly organised, she'd already spent an hour or two jotting down ideas for her classes, her bookshelves were concisely alphabetised, she had no duties to perform, and in essence, she was at a complete loss.

In the end, she stalked out of her rooms and walked at random through the many corridors. They were mostly free of students this late into the evening. An object lying on a windowsill caught Hermione's attention, and as she got closer she saw that it was an abandoned book. Picking it up, she was disappointed to find it was a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, but an inspection of the inside cover for a clue as to whom the owner was revealed it to be a library book. Who would dare to leave a... Oh, the library! Hermione could have hexed herself. It was her favourite place on earth; how could she have overlooked it?

Hermione smiled; she would return the book to Madam Pince and then lose herself in the stacks. She quickly headed down to the fourth floor.

Madam Pince muttered angrily when Hermione explained where she had found the book. Hermione knew that when she traced it, a certain student would be getting a severe talking-to. Hermione left her to it and explored the shelves. The library was officially closed to students at this time, but staff could access the books whenever they liked, although they could not remove them without the librarian's permission.

Hermione was already feeling more relaxed as she moved into the Arithmancy aisle. Her eyes were drawn to the Advanced Arithmancy textbooks that seventh-year N.E.W.T. students used. She hadn't studied the subject since her sixth year, and two years had since passed. Her mind recalled the moment when Ron had intimated that she'd been bitter about never completing her N.E.W.T.s, and she didn't mind admitting, in her mind at least, that he was right. She'd missed a whole year of advanced study, for Merlin's sake, to say nothing of what she'd missed in all her other subjects.

She grabbed the book. It was simple; she would teach herself. It might never be official, but it would be enough for her to know that she had done the studying and filled the gaps in her knowledge. It could be her little project. She was sure she could rely on Minerva and some of the others to give her some guidance, or at the very least a seventh-year syllabus from which she could follow.

Hermione, decision firmly made, flitted around the shelves, picking up texts on Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology and Potions. That was enough for her to be getting on with for the moment. If she found she had enough time on top of her teaching workload, she might go for Ancient Runes and Astronomy as well. She didn't feel she had to bother with Defence Against the Dark Arts. Upon reaching the desk Hermione was disappointed to find Madam Pince had retired for the evening.

'Bugger,' she said softly to herself.

Unfazed, Hermione settled herself in a small nook, lit several candles, and looked at her watch. It was nearly nine o'clock; she could easily get in a good two hours before going to bed. She Summoned some of the spare parchment that was kept for students at the library desk and rummaged within her robe for a quill. Satisfied, she pulled the Arithmancy text towards her and began flicking through, noting down all the matter she was already familiar with and all which was foreign to her.

Hermione worked contentedly through Herbology and Transfiguration, diligently making lists for each subject. She leaned over the table, her finger pointing alternately at the last two remaining books. 'Charms or Potions, hmm, Char—'

'I should hope you know better than to pass over potion-making for foolish wand-waving, Professor.'

Hermione was sure she nearly died of fright. 'Bloody hell!' she exclaimed loudly, spinning around in her chair at the noise.

Severus Snape was standing close by, watching her speculatively.

'Professor Snape! I'm sorry; I didn't hear you come in,' breathed Hermione rather deeply.

Snape smirked. 'My apologies; I did not mean to frighten you. I saw the light and had to check.'

'It is all right, well... it will be, once my heart starts beating again.' Hermione smiled weakly, turning back to her table. She wasn't entirely pleased to see him; he'd probably want to know what she was up to. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see him moving closer to the table. He lifted up her small pile of books and inspected the front covers. Help yourself, thought Hermione wryly.

'Do you mind?' He was gesturing to the chair next to her.

Hermione hoped the surprise she felt wasn't also written all over her face. 'Of course not.'

His close proximity suddenly made Hermione feel very self-aware, and she fought not to fidget. What a novel situation this was, sitting in the library with Severus Snape at—she glanced at her watch—quarter to twelve! She blanched; where had the time gone?

He was clad in all black today, and Hermione was nearly overcome by an inexplicable urge to enquire as to where his pink robes were. However, Gryffindor she might be, she was nowhere near comfortable enough in his presence to initiate witty banter. She wasn't sure it would be welcome. Or even if it was that witty, frankly.

'May I ask why it is that you are surrounded by N.E.W.T. level texts?'

'Oh, well, I thought I might take advantage of being back here at Hogwarts and catch up on all that I missed from my seventh year.' Hermione eyed him resolutely in case he reverted to type and decreed her an insufferable know-it-all once more. She'd never forgotten that incident. However, he was staring at the table as if deep in thought, while the fingers of his right hand tapped delicately along her pile of books. Had he even heard her? She was about the break the silence when he looked at her.

'Professor, what would you say if I said I could try and arrange it so you are able to sit the N.E.W.T. examinations properly, at the end of the school year?'

Hermione could only stare for a few moments, once again thrown off-balance by the man beside her. She smiled slowly. 'I would say that I'd be extremely grateful.'

Her gaze dropped to her hands resting in her lap, feeling very happy that she would finally accomplish one of the goals she had always had in her mind since being an eager first-year. 'Oh, but Professor, I don't want to cause you any trouble. I'm sure you have more important things to concern yourself with. I don't mind really if officially I never—'

His raised hand cut her off. 'I assure you, Professor Granger, it will not be a problem. Indeed, I expect the Ministry will be more than happy to oblige, especially when they know it is for you.'

'Hmm, I wouldn't be so sure, sir. I don't think they were very happy with me after I snubbed their job offer.'

He gave a low chuckle, which only served to make Hermione feel inordinately pleased.

'They will not hold a grudge. Come, it is late; I will walk you back to your quarters.'

Hermione could have skipped back to her rooms, but it was hardly something Snape would appreciate, so she managed to refrain.

'I believe I have been remiss in not discussing with you how your first week of lessons has gone. However, I believe you to be in good hands with Minerva and assumed that you would rather discuss any problems with her, anyway,' said Snape as they neared her landing.

Oh. Hermione moved her head to look up at him, but he was as unreadable as ever as walked beside her. 'I understand,' she offered. 'Besides, there's not much to tell, as things went rather smoothly.'

'I am glad to hear it.' He stopped outside her door. 'I shall bid you good night, Professor.'

'Thank you again, sir; good night.'

He nodded before sweeping off down the corridor.

Hermione, once inside, threw herself upon her bed as the day finally caught up with her. Her thoughts, on the other hand, remained with the man who was no doubt still stalking the corridors. He seemed so different to what she remembered as a student. Had the end of the war changed him? Or had he always been like this and only now was she able to witness it? Why was it that he made her feel so self-conscious? Last night in the staff room she'd... No, she'd been tipsy from the wine–that was all. She wasn't one for experiencing unbidden pangs of physical attraction. She hadn't considered she could be that shallow.

She was just unused to seeing him as anything other than an irascible Potions master... that was all.

She thought about Ron and wondered if he was all right. A pang of regret assailed her. She would write to Harry in the morning and ask him to keep an eye on Ron for her. Hermione soon fell into a deep sleep, and all thoughts were blessedly curtailed.

AN: Thanks for reading : )