Fool if you think it's over

by Katta (KET on ff.net)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it.

Chapter 5: Auld Lang Syne

Hermione graduated top of her year at Hogwarts. Indeed, she got the highest NEWT grades seen for 30 years (although some older wizards complained that this only showed that NEWTs had got easier). As a result, she got a scholarship to Oxford.

As soon as she arrived, she rented a student flat away from the college, which she shared with a group of likeminded friends. It had no heating and for two years she slept on a mattress on the floor. The dilapidated walls were covered with colourful scarves and hand painted murals. The damp smell was disguised by the liberal use of incense (and other substances).

During this period, Hermione built SPEW into a nationwide campaigning organisation through many a late night meeting in student union bars around the country. This set in train a series of events which led some years later to the passing of the House Elves Employment Rights Act, but by then Hermione had stepped down from any active role.

In her third year, Hermione moved into rooms in the college, ostensibly to concentrate on her finals, but actually more because she had got fed up with wearing three jumpers and still having a cold all winter. To no one's surprise, except perhaps her own, she graduated with a double first in Potions and Chemistry.

She was immediately awarded a grant to start a PhD, which she completed in under three years. The thesis was so well received that she was invited by a major academic publisher to revise it for publication. From there, her first lectureship was a foregone conclusion. This allowed her to continue various avenues of original research suggested by her PhD and, before long, she was a highly regarded expert in the cross-over field between Potions and Chemistry.

At about this time, Hermione's parents retired, sold their house in England and bought a farmhouse in rural France. With the money left over, they helped Hermione buy her first flat. Now she could divide her time between term time teaching in Oxford and holidays doing research in the Dordogne.

She also had a very active social life. Harry and Ron had gravitated to London, and she was very welcome to stay with either of them whenever she wanted bright city lights. And Oxford provided a vibrant and intellectually challenging circle of friends.

Nor did she lack a sex life. She had several low key affairs on the go, mainly with foreign Potions academics, whom she met at conferences. The only problem seemed to occur when several of them came to the same conference.

But she felt no desire to settle down with any of them. Sometimes she wondered whether it was the date rape that still affected her. But she now had that episode in proportion and could think about it with equanimity. No, in her heart of hearts, she knew that the reason was that she was still in love with a dark and difficult man who had vanished without trace after helping to vanquish Voldemort.

Throughout her twenties, this posed no particular problem for Hermione, but once she'd turned thirty, things changed. Most of her friends, including Harry and Ron, had settled down with a partner and spent their weekends decorating and going to IKEA. Worse – more and more of them were beginning to have children. Not only did this remove them from Hermione's social circle, it was making her increasingly broody.

At 33, Hermione was beginning to worry about her life. Career-wise it was going extremely well, but was that really all there was to life? She had often heard the term 'biological clock' and given it little credence, but now it was beginning to make sense. However, you can't conjure a partner out of thin air, even if you are an exceptionally clever witch. The truth was that Hermione was lonely.

And, so it was one morning, that Hermione looked up with surprise as an official Hogwarts' owl landed in her breakfast. She detached the note and read,

My Dear Hermione,

I very much hope that you will join us for the 15th anniversary of the Great Victory on 18th February. I fear this may be my last anniversary and there is something I would like to discuss with you.

Yours,

Albus

Hermione felt a tug at her heart. She hadn't seen Albus Dumbledore for over a year and he had looked very frail and elderly then. Hot tears began to prick her eyes.

Inquiries quickly established that Harry, Ron and other mutual friends had also been invited to the anniversary but without the rider about something to discuss. Very intrigued she got ready to go to Scotland.

~@~@~@~

'And so,' said Dumbledore with a voice that was still loud, even though it was shaky with age, 'I thank you all for coming and give you a toast. To Freedom!'

He raised his glass. When they had all drunk, the dinner broke up and people left their seats to seek out old friends they now rarely saw. Hermione made for a group of her contemporaries, but was sidetracked by Dumbledore who grabbed her elbow.

'Hermione, my dear, you look splendid!'

'Albus – not so bad yourself!' she lied.

'Please walk with me for a little.'

She took his arm and they walked out of the hall. When they reached the entrance door, he threw a warning spell around them and they continued into the snow-lit night. Dumbledore was clearly finding the walking a strain and was too out of breath to talk. Out of politeness, Hermione stayed quiet too.

Eventually they reached a bench in the herb garden and sat down. After a little while, Dumbledore regained his breathe.

'And how are you, my star pupil?'

Hermione smiled.

'I'm very well. My research is going well and I'm planning to publish a new paper on healing potions soon. As you know, I decided to write an undergraduate textbook for a change and it has already made the reading list at several US universities. As a result I'm getting rather more famous than I had bargained for and I'm having to turn down lecture invitations right, left and centre.'

'Good, good, but I meant more in your private life.'

'Well, I have recently bought a house in Jericho, which I'm doing up, so I'm spending a lot of time going round architectural salvage sales and …'

'That is not quite what I meant, either. How is your personal life? Some significant other on the horizon?'

If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, Hermione would have told them to mind their own business, but instead she smiled sadly and said, 'No, no significant other.'

'Why?'

That question merited some consideration and Hermione thought it over.

'I guess I haven't met the right person.'

'Ever?'

'I'm sorry, I don't understand …'

'Have you never met the right person?

'Well perhaps … once … why am I telling you this? You know.'

'Say it, Hermione. Please humour and old man and say it.'

'All right.' Hermione was becoming slightly irritated by the prying nature of his questions. 'Once when I was very young, half a life-time ago, I fell in love, but it wasn't meant to be. And he has disappeared. And – damn it – I can't find anyone else who measures up. There I've said it! Are you happy?'

They both heard the gasp behind them and Hermione turned sharply. And suddenly – as suddenly as if he had shrugged off an invisibility cloak (which was indeed what he had done) – there was Snape. Large as life and very much alive.

While they stared at each other, Dumbledore seemed to melt away.

'You're alive?' Stupid question. Of course he is – he is standing in front of you.

'So it would seem.'

'Where have you been all this time?'

'Hiding.'

'Who from?'

'You – among others.'

'Me? Why?'

'I finally decided you were too young. You told me what you were looking forward to about student life. You even waxed lyrical about having a flat with no heating. I could remember being that young, but I couldn't live that life again. I finally understood that I would be too jealous. I would cage you, hamper you, restrain you. That you would end up hating me. There was no future for us. I wanted you all to myself. I would never have been able to share you – not even with undergraduate life. So I left before you had the chance to wake up one morning and decided that you no longer wanted me. Besides, there were questions that the aurors wanted to ask me that I really didn't want to answer.'

'Where have you been all this time?'

'I've been living like a muggle.'

'A muggle?'

'Yes, I'm a school care-taker. The Argus Filch of Middleton Comprehensive.' He gave an ironic smile.

'But you are able to use magic?'

'Not really – I knew that if I used it too often, either the aurors or Albus would trace me. In fact, that was my downfall in the end. Pigeons. I can cope with most things, but I can't abide pigeons. They foul up everywhere and I have to clear it up. Without magic. Until last week that is. I just lost my rag and cast a spell on the school to keep the blighters away. I should have known, though. Albus picked it up straight away.'

Here he fell silent and they looked at each other for a long while.

Finally Snape broke the silence.

'Did you mean what you said to Albus earlier on? That you fell in love with me? That no one else since has measured up.'

By way of answer, Hermione stroked his cheek gently.

'Come home with me. Home to Oxford.'

'Hermione, I gave you up once for your own good. I am not sure I could do it again.'

'Who's asking you to give me up?'

They stared at each other again. Then Hermione grabbed hold of his lapels and dragged him with her through the apparition to Oxford.

Snape looked around her front room – the stripped and varnished floor boards, the white walls, the lovingly restored architectural details.

'Hermione,' he said hesitatingly. 'You don't want me to mess up your perfect life.'

Hermione smiled.

'You don't understand. I'm bored. I want my life messed up. Especially by you!'

And then they kissed.

THE END

A/N: That's it for this time. I'm sorry about the 15 year jump between the chapters, but try as I might, I just couldn't imagine this relationship working when Hermione was 18.