A/N: I'm back! This story is complete, in that I have written it in its entirety, though I will upload as three chapters. The next chapter will be uploaded in a few days.

As ever these characters belong to JKR and I make no money from this story. All mistakes are my own.

SS

With hindsight I suppose it may be said that I was reasonably successful up to this point in my life, even if the first thirty-eight years had been a complete and utter disaster. The three years following the Battle of Hogwarts had been… difficult.

My recovery following Nagini's attack had been slow and I'll admit that I hadn't been the most agreeable of patients. Due to my ill health, my trial in front of the Wizangamot had been delayed by months, and I found myself the last Death Eater to face judgement. It is still odd to me that the Ministry encouraged my recovery only to threaten me with my demise, but psychology is a complex subject and at the time I didn't wish to examine their choices too closely.

I was weary in more ways than one; I was in considerable pain and relied on potions just to get out of bed some days, but more importantly, to me, I was tired of life. I don't mean to suggest that I was suicidal, just that I was tired of making decisions, dealing with my perverse status as pariah to many and hero to few. It seemed that I was destined to be insulted in the street or idolised as if I were the second coming of Albus Dumbledore, and thereby, responsible for the salvation of the Wizarding World from the forces of darkness. I didn't want either of those things; I desired nothing more than to be left alone, to be permitted retreat to my house and spend the next one hundred years, or however long I was to reside in this world, in peaceful retirement.

My trial ran for seven weeks and revealed to the world my shame and humiliation. I had made Albus promise me all those years ago that my secrets would never be spoken of to anyone; in the space of just a few short weeks the little security I had in the public's ignorance of my past crumbled before my eyes. It had been noble of Mr. Potter and Mr. Ronald Weasley, amongst others, to come to my defense; particularly, as there had been no love lost between us throughout the duration our acquaintance. Albus had materialised in all his canvassed glory from beyond the veil to reveal the sordid details of our agreement. Suffice it to say that their combined efforts to see to my liberation were ultimately successful.

When I say liberation, I mean to say that I was not imprisoned in Azkaban; nevertheless, I built a prison of my own making, upon my release, in my refusal to leave my house. Minerva, to her credit, was irritatingly persistent in her attempts to bring me out into the bright new world, but I was not to be persuaded. You might be wondering how I spent those years following my acquittal, perhaps envisioning me working down in some basement laboratory, tirelessly researching and developing new potions – making the most of my freedom. If you thought this, you would be wrong. My house didn't have a basement laboratory and I was far too busy drinking myself into oblivion on a fairly frequent basis to be bothered with such frivolities. Like father, like son, they say.

Considering that my worthless father had been a drunk it is a surprising to me now that I chose to spend my time in this way, but there you have it, I have no excuses to offer other than my own sorrow. I had worked tirelessly for half of my life to protect Lily's son and defeat the Dark Lord and now that it was over, I found I had no purpose whatsoever and I sought none. I couldn't bare the looks of pity when I ventured out and found the admiration equally nauseating. Whilst my seventeen-year-old self would have enjoyed the positive attention I received; I had grown to resent it. So many had died to see to the Dark Lord's demise, whilst I had been responsible for so much suffering.

It was on the third anniversary of the end of the war that something in me changed. No, it wasn't a great epiphany as you might thought, but rather a slow realisation that I simply couldn't carry on as a had been over the last few years. Minerva had visited me, and we had spent several hours talking of some of our more pleasant memories when she, out of the blue, offered me a position teaching at the school. I hadn't laughed so hard in years. Thankfully, she understood why I found the idea so preposterous, though she lamented her inability to secure the services of a competent Master of Potions.

"You must be truly desperate if you are asking me," I commented while sipping at my hot mug of tea.

She didn't reply but sighed and shook her head slightly. I didn't have the courage to ask her what she meant by the gesture.

Over the next several months I slowly ventured out into the big wide world, choosing my engagements and destinations carefully. I went for long walks across the Yorkshire Dales, enjoying the beauty of the countryside and the simplicity of walking. Perhaps the fresh air was cathartic after the years staring at the same few walls, for the first time in such a long time, I felt alive. I found a sense of wonder the smallest of things and it wasn't long before I found myself attending a small potions conference in Manchester out of nothing more than curiosity.

It was four months later at a larger conference in London that I met a former student of mine, Garrick Newbourne. Though I had not considered Garrick to be a particularly talented student of potions, it appeared that he had enjoyed the subject and had a previously untapped aptitude for research. After his N.E.W.T's he had worked his way up to a senior researcher position at St Mungos but now felt that he had reached his ceiling in an institution where no one ever moved on. It may shock you to learn that I am not one for idle or pointless conversation and so I found I enjoyed Garrick's enthusiasm as it pertained to the art of potion making and his talent for avoiding all conversation relating to the past. A long-buried interest of mine was about to be reborn.

I had always had a rather effortless ability when it came to potions which I attributed to spending much of my childhood with books in the relatively safely of my bedroom rather than out socialising with other children of my own age. My mother had chastised me for it on more than one occasion, but I couldn't help my natural inclination. Perhaps I would not have met Lily if my mother had not snatched away one of my books and forced me outside for some fresh air, 'like normal children'.

After just five months of our acquaintance Garrick came to me with a proposal – the opening of a private research facility. I almost dropped my pint on the pub's flagstone floor, such was my astonishment that he would come to me, of all people, with such a plan. Nevertheless, he eventually talked me into a significant financial commitment to the project and a new career at the same time. It was fortunate for him that I wasn't a particularly extravagant person and had accumulated a reasonable savings over the years.

Several years later I now find myself co-owner of the largest private research laboratory in the United Kingdom. We employ twelve members of staff at Ratio Research Centre. The name was Garrick's choice and I found I really couldn't have cared less which moniker he adored across the company letterhead. Garrick is a modest man in his late thirties with blond hair and blue eyes and a face I have been told numerous times is considered to be handsome. I do not find much remarkable in his features; I do not say this with the intention of being unkind, only honest. The feature I notice the most is the insufferable smile which is plastered across his face almost constantly and the round wire-framed glasses he has recently come to wear on a more regular basis. I, Severus Snape, am much the same as I ever have been.

SS

"I go away for three weeks and I find that sitting in my office." I had shouted at Garrick pointing at the inside of my now closed office door.

Garrick had the temerity to smile. "We agreed that I would be responsible for the hiring of all new employees. I believe you insisted upon it."

He was right of course, and I detested the very idea of it even in that moment. "I would have appreciated the courtesy of at least being consulted!"

"You were in Guyana; how do you expect me to contact you?"

I walked behind my desk and sat down in my comfortable leather desk chair and felt my jaw clench with the anger and tension.

"She has impeccable references and a broad range of experience," he added calmly. "Not only that, but her interview was perfect."

I glanced up at Garrick and continued to express my annoyance.

"Of course, it bloody well was, that girl is the greatest know-it-all the Wizarding World had ever produced," I replied bitterly, clutching at the arms of my chair tightly.

To his credit Garrick knew that my bark was worse than my bite and tolerated my outbursts of anger with reasonable humour, much to my irritation.

A short silence was broken by my heavy sigh. "Garrick, I need her out of here, I cannot have her working here every bloody day."

He pulled out the chair and sat down. "This is about the war."

I knew by his tone that he wasn't making a suggestion; though we never spoke of it, he was perceptive and observant enough to know that I avoided almost everything, and everyone, connected to that period of my life. Mr. Potter had accused me of cowardice once, an accusation I resolutely rejected, but I found that moment often replayed in my mind in times such as these when I had what was essentially a crisis of confidence.

I rubbed my fingers across my forehead in an attempt to sooth away the oncoming headache. "What is her experience?" I asked eventually.

As turned out she was probably overqualified for the position Garrick had offered to her at our establishment. Following her training at the hands of Regulus Moonshine, no less, she'd been working in France as Head of Research and Development in the laboratory of Thibault Tugwood, nephew of Sacharissa Tugwood, and the largest maker of beautifying potion in all of Europe.

"What in Merlin's name is she doing here?" I asked incredulously. "She could go out and find employment in any number of laboratories across Europe."

Garrick removed his glasses and polished them slowly with his handkerchief. "She wanted to be closer to her family. That's what she told me."

I would have paid to move her bloody family to France for her if I had known she'd show up on my doorstep.

"I won't be changing my mind, Severus. Hermione is staying and I know she is going to be a great asset to the company and to our work here. You're rarely even out on the laboratory floor, I am sure you will learn to tolerate her working here the same way you tolerate the presence of everyone."

Then he bloody well smirked and I wanted to hex him into next week for his cheek.

Garrick stood and pushed the chair towards the desk. "Now, I am going to give you five minutes to compose yourself and then I am going to bring Hermione in here to meet her new employer and he is going to welcome her to the company and encourage her success." With a self-satisfied flourish he turned and walked out of the office, carefully closing the paneled oak door behind him.

I growled.

It was a fire-whiskey in hand that invited the girl into my office and attempted to make polite conversation. I did as Garrick had bade and welcomed her to the team and wished her luck.

To her credit she carried herself with confidence and made no mention of our previous association. I had taught many of our employees, so you may be wondering what made her so special as to be singled out as a student I wished to avoid. I had asked myself the same question but found the answer clouded behind the face of Harry bloody Potter.

I couldn't look at her and not be reminded of every moment of the years the Boy-Who-Lived walked amongst us in that castle. I thought back to all that I had endured and all that others endured due to my mistakes. I had worked very hard to move on and forge a life for myself - one which garnered reasonably little attention. Unless you worked in potions you would scarcely know I was still alive. Then of course there was the simple fact that she had been there, at that moment when I had almost died, when Nagini had ripped open my throat.

"Welcome, Miss Granger, we wish you every success."

"I am very glad to join your team here, Mr. Snape," she had offered as she had sat down opposite me in the chair Garrick had recently vacated.

I found myself tapping the arm of my own chair, restlessly with my finger, whilst attempting to be as polite as Garrick had requested. "We are fortunate to have secured your services."

She lifted her chin and countered with an amused quirk of her lips. "I know you have reservations of my being here, let's not pretend that you're enthusiastic about my appointment."

My eyebrow rose of its own volition, it appeared she had overheard my conversation with Garrick.

"I am not afraid of hard work and I will ensure that I prove to be an asset and see that you have no regrets in giving in to Mr. Newbourne's wish to see me situated here."

The cheek of the wench, to insinuate that I had simply given in.

"Do you have any questions you would like to ask me?" she queried. "If not, I will return back to the laboratory, if you don't mind, of course."

I shook my head and gestured at the door urging her exit.

After she had closed the door, I immediately concluded that she was still an insufferable know-it-all.

SS

Several months later as I reviewed our quarterly figures, I grudgingly had to admit that Granger's appointment had had a positive effect on our business. Two of our five major projects were ahead of schedule and due to move to the hospital for patient trails. Bloody overachievers. I knew I would be eating a thick slice of humble pie as Garrick waved his 'I told you so' flag over my head at our weekly meeting the following day.

I looked over to the clock hanging over my office door and noted that it was almost seven o'clock in the evening. I dropped my quill, gathered my cloak and carried it over my arm before heading out of my office and through to the laboratory. Immediately I noticed Granger sitting on the far side of the room surrounded by parchment and a solitary simmering cauldron. For a few moments I observed, curious as to why she should still be working when the rest of the staff had returned home. With her hair neatly tied away from her face I noticed her concentration as she made notes and referred to an open book set upon the bench.

It wasn't often I saw her working - I spent little time out in the laboratory as it was informally considered to be Garrick's territory. I was the partner more concerned with securing contracts, balancing our books and general management of the company – the big picture as it were. Garrick headed the laboratory to keep my unpleasant disposition from driving the staff away and setting us on the path to ruin.

I watched her for only a few minutes before I considered how strange it was to be observing her thusly. I don't know what I was looking for as I observed, only that I was a curious being as most people interested in experimentation and discovery tend to be. She must have noticed as I finally turned to walk up the stairs and leave.

"Mr. Snape," she called. "Have you been working late? I didn't know you were still here."

I paused and turned back to her, walking slowly to the bench at which she had been sitting. "I was preparing some figures for tomorrow." I replied unnecessarily.

She nodded before glancing at the simmering contents of the cauldron.

"What do we have here?" I asked, gesturing to the heavy iron receptacle. Apparently, I couldn't resist.

"I have been running a few tests with different bases for the Castleford project. "Our traditional base isn't offering consistent results and I can't put my finger on why."

Like a moth to a flame I glanced at the soft orange surface of the liquid potion, not observing anything unusual. "You used dogwood?" I asked.

She tapped the parchment with the tip of her quill, pointing to a line of text. "Yes, three pinches in part one and four in part two."

Interesting, dogwood was not a particularly difficult ingredient to work with and gave pleasingly consistent results. "Have you considered adding Elderberry?"

A frown formed on her face, "Don't you think that's an aggressive alternative? Aren't you worried about instability?"

I set my cloak on the empty bench behind me and gestured for her to pass me the parchment she had been annotating. After a few minutes of consideration, during which she managed to wait patiently in blessed silence – Merlin be praised. "Add one. Dried. I highly doubt it will prove potent enough to trouble you."

I handed her back her notes and collected my cloak, all the while watching the wheels of her mind turn as she considered my advice.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."