I was trying for a drabble...oops?

This came out of research on medieval apprentices for an o-fic.

Severus Snape inherited Hermione Granger at three o'clock on a rain-soaked Saturday morning in March.

She stood on the doorstep of his little terraced house with her trunk, her mean-eyed cat and a panicked impervius so sharp spits of rain were shooting back up into the sodden sky. "Sir…"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "To what do I owe this honour, Miss Granger?" His eyes narrowed on the torn parchment in her hand and a groan almost escaped him. No. Fuck, no… "Are you not with Master Bodvar?"

The witch pulled her hand to her chest, the sharply torn edges of the parchment pressing into her cloak. Magic flickered and hissed across the sheet's roughness. Her shoulders lifted and her lips pinched.

"My apprenticeship has been turned over. Master Bodvar was killed in an Auror raid an hour ago."

There was a spark in her eye, a gleam of anger and dislike. Yes, Thorlieff Bodvar was a brilliant Potions Master, but an utter, utter bastard. Severus had survived three years of the git. Miss Granger had been, if he remembered rightly, only in her third month.

"Apparently, provision was made in my indenture –without my knowledge or permission, sir, believe me— that upon his death you would become my master."

The old man really was an utter fuck. And loathed the only apprentice who'd ever rivalled him. Namely one Severus Tobias Snape.

Bodvar had known how he felt about apprentices. Everyone did. Lazy, profligate little shits, the lot of them. There was little doubt that that secret clause had been in the contract since Severus had magic-whipped Bodvar and forced the old bastard to add his seal to Severus' Mastery.

Granger put out her hand with the torn parchment. Rain splashed against the creases, but the magical ink stayed true. She really was his…

Fuck.

"I do not take on apprentices, Miss Granger. I recommend that you apply to the Ministry to have this new agreement broken." He huffed out a sour laugh. "Having your master killed in a raid and said criminal then handing you over as the plaything to former Death Eater. The work of minutes to break, I'm certain."

Severus stepped back into the warmth of his little hallway, intent to shut the door. The hinges groaned and squeaked.

Granger's shoulders sagged, her hand falling to her side and her eyes closed. Her mangy cat let out a plaintive meow. And that wasn't a curl of guilt in his belly. Why had she chosen Bodvar in the first place? She was talented. Brilliant. Any Master would be proud to have her... But Bodvar? He was… No, there weren't enough words to cover that complete shit-stain of a wizard.

She rubbed a hand over her face. Her skin was grey. And she looked exhausted. A female apprentice under Bodvar? Had she had any sleep? "And I thought…"

"What, Miss Granger?"

Her eyes shot open and she stared at him, eyes dark and wide. Had she believed he'd shut the door on her? And he should've done. He didn't want or need an apprentice. He was doing very well on his own. Very well.

"I thought that if," she wet her lips and Severus stared and frowned, oddly discomforted, "that if I had the Master who had taught you—"

He arched an eyebrow. "That you would garner all my secrets?"

She shook her head and her smile was wry, bitter. "That it would be as close as I could get to being your apprentice, sir."

Severus glared at her. "I do not need your false flattery." The words came out on a sneer. Now he was fucking slamming the door in her face.

She shrugged and her voice was quiet under the pounding of the rain. "Never false. Never that." Her wand was out and she flicked it to levitate her trunk and her foul cat in his carrier. Her lips twitched into a smile. "Goodnight, sir."

"Where will you go?"

What? Why was he asking? Because an apprentice had to reside with their master. She was homeless. Shit, there was that curl of guilt again. No doubt a part of the indenture that currently bound them. Oh he would curse Bodvar to a lower level of hell.

"The Ministry atrium, till their offices open."

"It's Saturday morning." The Ministry's weekends were sacrosanct. Nothing but the resurrection of Voldemort would get ministry workers to their desks on a Saturday. And even then…they'd put their collective feet down for extra tea and biscuits.

Her brows drew together and her mouth turned down. "I didn't…"

"When did you last sleep, Miss Granger?"

"I was in bed just before—"

"For more than half an hour at a time?"

She looked down and her mouth pinched together, her cheeks flushing. "A…a long time."

Severus closed his eyes. Fuck. Fuck. He was going to regret this. He already was regretting it.

He snatched the contract out of her lax fingers and it instantly spiralled and curled into a whole, pristine sheet. He tore it again and thrust her piece back at her. "Done. Now get in here. There's an attic room that's suitably foul to house an undeserving apprentice."

She was staring at him again and her mouth had fallen open. "You…" She blinked and fixed her gaze on her very-much-official indenture to him. Her hands were trembling. She looked to him and her lips pressed together. She was staring at his mouth. "We have to…"

More red rose in her cheeks and Severus did groan then. Of course. He was an idiot. They had to seal the rite.

Severus cast a sharp impervius over himself and stepped out into the downpour. He was going to resurrect Bodvar just so he could kill him again. Granger was staring at the soaked pavement, the yellow of the streetlamp caught in her wild hair. Tension rippled off her.

"Did you hex Bodvar after this?"

Her head snapped up. "Yes, twice. He was taking…liberties. You, sir?"

"I kneed him in the balls." He lifted an eyebrow as she choked on a laugh. "I want to assure you, that is not the direction this apprenticeship will take. I will not take advantage of you. I will train you to be a Potions Master. Nothing more."

For a moment, Severus thought he saw something shift in her gaze…but then it was gone.

"Ready, Apprentice?"

"Yes, sir."

"The correct term is…Master."

And no, he hadn't imagined that little shiver coursing her. It wasn't the rain, or the cold. Interesting… What else did Miss Hermione Granger want from him?

Severus tilted her head up –she really was a tiny little witch— and his mouth dipped to hers. Their lips brushed, tendrils of warm, sweet magic chasing over skin and fingers and hair…

Severus' eyes fluttered shut, lost for a moment in the perfection, the rightness of their kiss—

"Master…"

Her hot whisper burned against his mouth and his breath caught.

Perhaps –just perhaps— having an apprentice wouldn't be such a bind after all.

I'll be writing on Offer at the weekend. Promise :)