Chapter 29

Hermione took several deep breaths of the cold air; and walked across the garden of The Burrow - the borrowed wellington boots that she had purloined from the jumble on the back step making tracks in the snow. She reached the fence; and looked up the tall hill that she knew led towards the Lovegood's rook-shaped home, grateful to be out of the house that was full to bursting with people, noise and food.

The Christmas Day atmosphere was raucous and merry, the food was fantastic, and the company was wonderful – there was nothing amiss. Just a few minutes peace and quiet in the garden to clear her head as the sky turned from a grey dusk to an evening black, just few moments relief from the constant chatter and the incessant baby talk … that would do nicely.

As soon as she thought it, Hermione instantly felt guilty. Her friends were overjoyed at their news, and for Harry especially, the birth of a blood relative (a blood relative that actually cared two hoots for him) was a dream come true. But then earlier that morning, Bill and Fleur had arrived from Shell Cottage for luncheon, bringing with them their own news of a baby, of a pregnancy that was due to end around the same time at Ginny's, in May.

Of course, this had elicited more tears of joy from Mrs Weasley, and some from Mr Weasley too, she suspected, and the topic of conversation for the rest of Christmas Day had been determined thus.

Not that Hermione would deny them their joy – that would be exceptionally rude. No, a few minutes outdoors would serve her very well.

Her festive holiday, thus far, had been a hive of activity – helping around The Burrow as if she were one of the family, spending time with her best friends, eating far too much excellent Weasley home cooking, and she had even been to two meetings with a Muggle estate agent in the Cotswolds regarding the sale of her parents' house. The agent, an oily young man named Steve, had suggested marketing the property in the New Year, since "Nobody moves house over Christmas, luv."

This didn't leave much time for completing the sale before she returned to Hogwarts at the end of the first week in January, but Hermione had ensured that all communications were to be sent to a forwarding address, a mixed Muggle and wizarding post office, where the letters could be brought on to her at the castle by owl.

And then that would be that. The last vestiges of her Muggle life – sold.

She heard a loud squawk from the open door that suggested young Teddy Lupin was making his presence felt, truthfully the young baby was probably overtired and overstimulated and needed to be taken to a quiet room to sleep. Harry had bestowed gift after gift upon his godson, and it had been a sweet moment when he presented Ginny with the second toy broomstick, as a gift for their unborn son or daughter. Ginny had shed tears, which was quite unlike her. Mrs Weasley had offered to cast a gender revealing charm to discover the sex of their baby, but both had declined, declaring they would be happy with either and wanted a surprise.

This had led to Bill and Fleur declining also, although Hermione suspected that had it been a private conversation, Fleur Delacour-Weasley would have been only too happy to have her mother-in-law cast the revealing charm upon her.

A heavy scuffling through the snow prompted her to turn around.

Ronald.

"You ok, Hermione?" he asked as he drew nearer, carrying a cloak which he offered to her.

"Absolutely fine," she confirmed, taking the cloak gratefully and wrapping the heavy wool garment around her shoulders. "Just taking a breather."

"A bit intense in there. You know, with all the baby talk and stuff."

She smiled at him. Ron Weasley knew her well.

"Just a little," she admitted. "I'm happy for them all, of course …"

"Yeah, me too, me too," he interrupted, quickly agreeing with her, "but, give it a rest for a while, eh?"

They both laughed.

"At least you've got your broomstick back."

"Thieving witch of a sister," he grumbled.

Hermione turned back towards the fence, crossing her forearms on the top and resting her chin on them. She felt Ron move in beside her and do the same.

"What are you looking at, Hermione?"

"Nothing really. Just looking. Taking a moment."

"We're really over, aren't we?"

She straightened a little; and turned to face him. He looked downcast, and she tugged lightly on his sleeve to get him to look at her.

"You and I, as the best friends in the world, will never be over. But as far as a romantic relationship goes, yes, that is over. I really am sorry."

He shrugged, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt for the pain she was causing him, despite him behaving like a desperate oaf in the Three Broomsticks on her birthday.

"Its ok. Not all school girlfriends turn out like Harry and Ginny, or my mum and dad."

"They really do not, and you shouldn't fixate on that. You and I, we have our whole lives ahead of us. Lives that we fought hard for, remember?"

"I remember."

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too. But not in a romantic sense."

"I know."

They both turned away from each other at the same moment; and leaned on top of the fence in a mirror gesture. Darkness had started to fall quickly since she had been outside, and a few stars were beginning to be visible.

"Have you taken up with one of the boys at school?" he asked, after a while, surprising her with his directness.

"And who might I have taken up with, may I ask?"

"I dunno. Neville. Ernie. Some bloke from Ravenclaw. Maybe even Malfoy, if you were that desperate."

They both laughed at the ridiculousness of the names he had come up with. As if even Ronald Weasley believed that she would be romantically interested in any of them.

"That's a no, then?" he asked.

"A very definite no," she confirmed, wondering if she should cross her fingers behind her back with the lie; for he had said 'boys at school' and Professor Severus Snape was most certainly not that.

"I'm discovering who I am, Ron. I am enjoying my courses so much, and the thought of working full time at the Ministry in few months, having a real career, finally being recognised as an adult - that is my focus at the moment."

"Christmas kiss?"

Ronald was chancing his arm, smiling slightly to show he was joking, but Hermione suspected that if she'd be willing, he would be only too receptive.

"Christmas hug," she replied, firmly, opening her arms and enveloping her friend in an embrace.

They stood together in that manner for a long time, the rest of their words left unsaid, cherishing their joint past but surrendering it to their separate futures.

Fresh snow began to fall.

-xxx-

Excepting a rather tasty festive lunch, the rest of Severus' Christmas Day had been much the same as any other. He was keeping himself busy in the castle, not preparing lessons or marking essays, but rather by locking himself in his private laboratory, writing up his notes on the Forgetfulness Potion and updating his research with painstaking precision after his experimentation on Frank and Alice Longbottom.

He often found that whole days had gone by when he had done nothing but sleep, and work in the lab; and found that was a state of affairs which he could bear quite easily.

The staff remaining at the castle for Christmas were all spending the evening in the staff room, and he was also present, on pain of death from Minerva. Seated in his favourite chair, the brown leather one that was away from everyone else, with a glass of firewhisky, a large important-looking book and an unpleasant scowl on his face should keep his colleagues at an acceptable distance.

Particularly her, Severus thought, watching Andrea Masters talking amiably to anyone who wandered within her orbit, as if she was hosting one of the high-society functions that Madam Rookwood would have been so accustomed to, in her … previous life. The witch was trouble, without a doubt. Severus wondered if she knew the location of his private laboratory, as he had been somewhat surprised that she had not yet sought him out. Could it be too much to hope for, that the infernal witch had finally given up on her crusade to become his wife?

He coughed down a smirk, for the idea was so inherently ridiculous it was not even worth his time in worrying about.

"Are you quite alright, Severus?" Minerva called. "A glass of water, perhaps?"

"No thank you, Madam. I find myself quite possessed of the ability to tolerate my alcohol. Perhaps you should ask Filius?"

He shot her a mean smirk, which would have angered the old Headmistress more, had her Deputy, and Head of Ravenclaw House, not been attempting to cajole Sybill Trelawney into looking down the front of his tiny trousers.

"All staff will remain clothed in this room!" she announced, quickly and shrilly, causing Flitwick to refasten his jacket and move to a different sofa, where he promptly fell asleep.

Severus arched an eyebrow at his superior, and pointedly returned to his book.

So successful was he at tuning out the babble of his colleagues, that he had apparently missed their goodnights too, as when he next looked up, the room was almost empty. Hagrid was just leaving, red-faced with ale he was clomping across the room and bestowing a wet kiss upon Minerva's cheek before squeezing himself through the staff room door.

Rubeus Hagrid never did anything or went anywhere quietly, so it must have been the half-giant's movement that had distracted Severus from his reading. His eyes darted around the room to see who else was remaining, aside from Minerva. Andrea Masters, of course, and Flitwick, asleep on the sofa with his mouth open, and snoring at a volume that quite belied his diminutive size.

Fresh from being kissed and pawed by Hagrid, all in the name of Christmas cheer, Minerva patted her hair and straightened her robes, her keen eyes noting the final occupants of the room.

"I'll leave you two alone then," she told them, brightly, in the most unsubtle attempt at covertness since Mundungus Fletcher had disguised himself as a hag and hidden in a Hogsmeade pub.

"No," he replied, firmly, closing his book with a loud thud. "No more of this, Minerva. Whatever the appropriate level of social contact you believe that Professor Masters and I should be having, let me assure you, it is not and will not be happening. Is that clear?"

Andrea Masters had the gall to look shocked. She would be lucky if he didn't slap that expression right off her admittedly attractive face.

"I did tell you, Minerva," Andrea said, softly.

She'd told her what?

Snape's mind was suddenly on guard and alert. Those skills as a spy certainly had their uses, no matter how much firewhisky he had imbibed.

The two witches approached him, using their wands to move the chess table aside, and to summon chairs so they could sit opposite him. Minerva cast a two-way silencing charm over Flitwick, which had the dual benefit that they could no longer hear his snoring, and that if he should awaken, he would not be able to hear whatever it was that was about to be discussed.

"Severus," the Headmistress began. "Severus. I do know what the problem is, here."

"I very much doubt that you do, Madam."

"Do you trust my judgment in recruiting staff for this school, Severus?"

He snorted.

"I believed I did. But after the debacle of Richard Briner, and this … this woman that you have invited to teach in our school, now I am not so certain."

"The conduct of Professor Briner could not have been expected. His teaching credentials were excellent, his personal references spotless. He had been a Transfiguration instructor within the Experimental Magic department at the Ministry for a good few years."

"Instructing adults, I presume?"

She nodded, sadly.

"Richard Briner's predilection for teenage girls could not have been foretold."

He noticed Andrea's smirk from the corner of his eye.

"A girl was hurt. One my Slytherin house members."

"And I shall bear the guilt of that, Severus."

There was a long silence as she looked at him, daring him to attempt to stare her down. He had seen that look once before, a steely determination he never wanted to see again, as he'd found himself at the business end of her wand during the final battle. Try me, her face had said. I don't want to destroy you, but I will, if you give me no choice.

"I apologise," he said, quietly and with sincerity.

They both knew just how much he was apologising for.

"Andrea …" she began.

"Professor Andrea Masters is not suitable to teach at this school," he said, curtly.

"And why is that, Severus?" Masters asked.

Was she … goading him?

"I know who she is, Severus," Minerva cut in.

"You know?"

"Of course I do. Do you not think I check all professional and personal references before making a teaching appointment? Do you not think that all Madam Rookwood's teaching qualifications from her work as a home educator were in her true name? Do you think that, even if she had tried to magically alter them, that I am not skilled enough to remove such enchantments?"

He was rendered speechless.

"Everyone deserves a second chance," the Headmistress continued. "Andrea Rookwood was convicted of no crime, and the divorces that were granted to the spouses of Death Eaters now permanently incarcerated in Azbakan are absolute. She wants to create a new future for herself."

"I did tell you this, Severus," Andrea added. "I told you that I wanted to clear my name, to become a respectable member of society, to educate children and to begin a new life."

He was utterly wrongfooted by what Minerva had told him, and mightily pissed off by the 'wronged innocent' act that Andrea was trying to pull off.

"Her husband … her family. They have done terrible things, Minerva."

"So have you, Severus. Let us not forget that."

"Everything I did was under the express orders of Albus Dumbledore," he hissed, baring his crooked teeth in anger and getting to his feet, for he had heard quite enough for one night.

He headed towards the staff room door, desperate for a cigarette and a chance to mentally process the information he had just been given. As his hand touched the doorknob, he heard the Headmistress call.

"Go if you must, Severus. But be forgiving; and be kind. The most absolute redemption can come from the most surprising of places."

"You know nothing of my redemption, Madam."

"Andrea admires you greatly. Give her a chance to see your prejudices fall."

That was the moment to leave, before he drew his wand and obliterated half the staff room furniture in his fury. Severus left the room, not even bothering to close the heavy door, and shot down the corridor at a blistering pace, only just shy of actually running. He could feel the breeze he was creating in his long hair, and in the flapping of his coat tails.

He could not believe what he had just heard. The sooner he returned to his chambers, the better.

-xxx-

Hermione had escaped from the wedding preparations, which were reaching fever-pitch at The Burrow, with the current plan being to conduct a midnight marriage ceremony on New Year's Eve. Nothing 'hung around' in the wizarding world, especially not when a teenage bride was pregnant.

She was in London, viewing a selection of flats and small houses with an aim to purchase one before starting work at the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries, she very much hoped. With her was a surprise companion – Arthur Weasley. He had seemed almost pleading when he'd asked if she would like him to escort her, citing that he knew where the best places to live would be, in relation to her getting to work at the Ministry, of course.

Throwing the harassed wizard a lifeline from the enthusiastic mother-of-the-bride, Hermione had accepted his offer with good grace, and now they had viewed three properties, she was actually rather pleased to have a companion with her. It was like being out with, if not a father, then a kindly uncle. Mr Weasley had shown a keen interest in every flat they had viewed, pointing out possible pitfalls, and giving practical advice on running one's own home.

The wizarding properties scored highly for their fireplaces, which would make commuting to work very easy, although he advised she should not restrict her choices only to London, as there was an Apparition foyer at the Ministry, and wherever in the country she lived, she could Apparate to work quite easily. Hermione could tell that Arthur was desperate to view inside a real Muggle dwelling, but she explained that having grown up in one, she was solely looking for properties where witches or wizards had previously lived.

After viewing a wonderful top-floor flat in Diagon Alley with not only a Floo-connected fireplace, but a roof terrace from which to Apparate from; Hermione was in love. However, it was situated almost opposite the bright orange shopfront of the ubiquitous Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, and apart from the potential for red-headed visitors at all hours of the day, the noise and general hullaballoo from the shop may not provide the most relaxing environment, particularly at the weekends.

Arthur thought that being in such close proximity to George and Ron was a wonderful thing. Hermione privately felt that the wonderful thing would likely stop her from choosing it, which was a shame, as the flat itself was almost perfect.

They agreed to take a breather in the Leaky Cauldron, ostensibly to discuss the properties, but really to give them as much time as possible out of the house before they really had to return to The Burrow, with all its talk of flowers, dresses and babies. Not that either of them admitted this to the other.

Walking into the familiar wooden-beamed pub, Hermione was surprised to see Hannah Abbott behind the bar, serving pints of ale as if she had been working there all her life.

"Hannah?"

"Hermione! So good to see you, how's your holiday going?"

"Great, but Hannah, why are you …?"

"Oh, its my new holiday job! I could do with getting some extra Galleons behind me and Tom was looking for extra help. I'm going to work here each school holiday, and once school is finished, I may even work here full-time while I decide what I want to do with the rest of my life!"

Hannah was beaming and looking very pleased with herself. Hermione ordered a goblet of wine, and Mr Weasley opted for a pint of draught beer.

"Any food?"

Arthur looked extremely tempted by the thought of a Leaky Cauldron pie-and-pint dinner; but expressed concern that Molly would most likely have dinner ready when they got home. They found a table near the bar, and Hannah brought their drinks over to them.

"How's Neville?" Hermione asked her.

"He spends all his time at home, with his dad. I don't know if you heard – his mother passed?"

Hermione nodded. There had been an awkward moment at The Burrow when Harry had news from Neville that his mother had died, and she'd been within a hair's breadth of telling Harry she already knew, before realising just in time that would then necessitate an explanation as to how she knew this. Even the thought that she had nearly dropped herself and Professor Snape in a barrel of trouble made her sweat.

"I don't think he's going to go back to Hogwarts."

"What?"

"He just wants to be at home, with his dad. I can understand that," Hannah said, sweetly. "He still wants to apprentice under Professor Sprout, so when school reopens in January he's going to speak with Professor McGonagall about taking his complimentary NEWT results, and leaving his course of study, only coming into school for his tutorials and training with Sprout."

"I know Neville will do the right thing for him and his father," Hermione replied, not at all sure what to say.

Hogwarts without Neville? She as the only remaining Gryffindor of their cohort?

Hannah smiled, and wiped her hands on her apron, explaining that she really must head back to the bar, as the Leaky Cauldron was busy. They both bid her farewell and took long, fortifying sips of their drinks.

"Well then, young Hermione," Arthur began. "Do you think you have found a place to call home today?"

"Possibly," she answered, thinking of the almost-perfect Diagon Alley flat. "I have a while to decide though. My parents house is not sold yet, and there is the small matter of being committed to Hogwarts until the year ends in July."

"Not so," he corrected, talking a long slurp of his beer. "Not so. Applications can always be made to take the NEWT examinations early, depending on the quality of the student's work, of course."

"Take my NEWTs early?"

"Oh yes. That is what Ginny is going to do. Her baby is due at the end of May, so she is going to apply to take her examinations in March, at the end of the term just as the school breaks up for the Easter holidays at the beginning of April."

"I've never heard of that, Mr Weasley."

"Its not something they publicise. But the fact is, it does happen. Ginny is not the first witch to attend Hogwarts whilst pregnant and married, and she won't be the last. Pregnancy, I would say, is the main reason that a student would apply to leave school early, but there are other reasons."

Hermione's mind began to wander. Finish school early? She was more than capable of passing her NEWTs, she could probably take them tomorrow and still pass. It would mean only a single term left at school, and a whole term sooner that she could apply for a job as an Unspeakable and begin work in the real world.

"But Hermione," Arthur was still speaking. "You don't have to do that. Just take the complimentary NEWT certificates that were offered to your year group, just as Harry and Ron did, and you can leave immediately."

"No, thank you," she replied, firmly. "I want my results to be all my own work."

"Well, I don't think that Ron and Harry …"

She rested her hand on his arm, realising too late that she might have sounded rather rude to Mr Weasley's son.

"They did what was right for them. This is just my funny little thing. I've always needed to prove myself, and this is no different. I want to work for my results, and to pass my NEWTs solely due to my own ability, without ever having to worry that I was just given them."

He seemed placated; if not convinced; and returned to his beer.

Hermione was excited by the information he had just imparted, and her mind began to whirr with plans of new flats, job applications and adult freedoms. There was nothing she would miss at Hogwarts … was there?

-xxx-

Severus looked up from his desk in annoyance at the sound of knocking at his classroom door. He had closeted himself in his laboratory since the staff room revelations of Christmas night, and the hard work had provided diversion and yielded some exceptional results. Deciding he'd better do some marking of essays before the little shits returned to school, he had dedicated the evening to working his way through the mountain of untidy scrolls that currently awaited his approval.

It wasn't going well. Either he was marking fucking slowly, or there was a hex on the pile that prevented it from getting any smaller. And there was the door again. Hopefully it was Malfoy, whom he had sent for on no less than three occasions, and had yet to see the boy around school at any point thus far during the holidays.

"Enter."

The heavy door creaked open and his heart sank.

"Severus."

Most definitely not Draco Malfoy.

"Severus, we need to talk."

Without further invitation, Andrea Masters entered his classroom, securing the door behind her and walking towards the desk, her heeled shoes clacking on the stone floor with every step. With great audacity, she summoned a student chair and placed it to the side of his desk, transfiguring it into an armchair before making herself comfortable.

He fixed her with a black stare.

"Why did you not tell me that the Headmistress was already aware of your … status, shall we call it?"

"Why would that have been relevant, Severus? Why would it make any difference to you whether Minerva knew my former name, or the identity of my former husband?"

"Don't be coy, Andrea," he hissed.

She leaned forward so that her hands were on the side of his desk; and narrowed her heavily made-up eyes at him.

"Let us not pretend you weren't holding on to that delicious morsel of information so that you could turn me in to the Headmistress when the time was right."

"I shall not deny that."

"And there is your error. You did not believe me. You doubted my sincerity, and you disbelieved the offer I made to you."

He scoffed.

"I do want to make a new life for myself, Severus. I wish to bind myself to a reputable, educated wizard. You more than anyone else understands the life I have led before, with Augustus. You are by far the best choice for me."

"Why?"

She smirked, and it made her beautiful face look truly ugly.

"Because you, have absolutely no grounds to ever judge me. You're no better than the rest of them, rotting away in Azkaban."

"I am unsure whether your offer of marriage is to punish me, or save yourself, Madam."

"Both!"

Andrea sat back in the chair, her posture and expression just daring him to challenge her.

"And now that little Astoria Greengrass is out of the picture, I see no further obstructions to our relationship."

He slammed his palm on the top of the desk, hard.

"There is not one bit of truth in that aspersion, and you know it."

"I know what I saw at the ball, Severus. Teenage girls do not run from a party, spilling tears down their finery, unless their heart has been broken by a cad, by a man who has taken advantage of her."

"Or by a teenage boy," he pointed out, with a withering look.

The notion seemed to give her pause.

"You have not interfered with Miss Greengrass? Swear it."

"I dislike orders, Mrs Rookwood. I also dislike repeating myself."

She got to her feet, snapping her wand to return the chair to its original form and position.

"This is the final time I will offer myself to you. If you snub me again, I shall not ask again. There are plenty of wizards who would be proud to have me on their arm. I can frequent the Hogs Head and Three Broomsticks any night of the week to meet with suitable men. Severus; don't be a fool. Do not be blinded by your own hatred; or held back by your own memories. I see the powerful and dynamic team we could be. The Snapes. Our former associations with the dark; wiped clean as we face a brave new future together, as educators, as lovers, as … parents."

He rose without a word, and headed for the door behind him, that led directly to his private quarters, and opened it before turning to her from the threshold. She took a step forward, as if she believed he was offering an invitation to his chambers, perhaps to begin their relationship immediately.

"There is something you should know," he said at length, his voice low and clear.

"Yes?"

She sounded breathless.

"I hate babies."

He slammed the door behind him; and set a security ward on it with such volume that a long-dead mountain troll couldn't fail to have heard it.