Chapter Text
June, 2010.
Hermione had intended to write Severus Snape a letter of thanks for his gift, but when she sat down with pen and paper in hand, she realised that it was not so easy. The basic courtesies flowed swiftly, but what came next was not as simple. As before, she wondered about the man and found that, despite his much more...relaxed appearance when they'd met in Manchester, she could not extricate him from her previous experiences in Hogwarts. How could someone that buttoned-up and severe now be found in slightly ratty band t-shirts and hoodies? Was it a genuine change, or had he just transfigured his clothes to Muggle-wear? And how strange to have to consider such a thing these days!
In the end, she sent a card rather than a letter, somewhat daunted by all the questions she would not ask. She had noted the PO box address in Huddersfield and was struck by the very mundanity of it. Picturing him stalking down the Victorian streets, she saw him teaching at one of the colleges although she had nothing on which to base these imaginings. She did not expect them to enter into a correspondence, and she kept the note to a minimum; even so, it took staggering levels of will-power.
Dear Professor Snape,
Thank you for taking the time to send such a considerate gift. The Stones sound so much better on vinyl, don't you think? It was a superb payment for a very small bruise.
It was a surprise to hear from you, I must admit, but I was delighted to learn in Manchester that rumours of your demise had been greatly exaggerated. Yes, I'm sure you guess correctly as to why I left the community. I moved back to my parent's home near London in 1999, subsequently building a career as a researcher for the BBC. This has proved a useful outlet for my tendency to be an Insufferable Know-It-All! Honestly, I don't know how you put up with us - we must have made a trying time even harder.
Thank you. For everything.
Very best wishes,
Hermione .
When she thought about it afterwards, she realised that she had called him Professor out of habit, but it was too late to modify at that point. She wondered if he would understand that the Insufferable Know-It-All part had been humour rather than recrimination, and it plagued her for a couple of hours until a new project landed on her desk. An hour after that, she had lost herself in the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood.
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22nd October, 2010 .
Roz peered round the corner from the kitchen to the living room where Hermione was stretched out on her sofa dozing.
"H, I know you came here to snack, drink wine, and go to the REx tonight, yeah? But I've got a plan for tomorrow, OK? I'm going to take you to meet a friend of mine. We're going outside the city, so you'll get fresh country air too."
Roz ducked her head back into the kitchen to elude the inevitable outburst.
"I come here to relax after six solid months of chaos, and all I want is my trip to 'The Lady and the Sea' tonight, and to spend some time catching up, not an itinerary, woman!"
Roz heard Hermione lever herself upright on the elderly brown leather sofa and correctly predicted the sudden look of horror that crossed her friend's face. There was a groan.
"Rosemary Safiyya Morris, please tell me you're not foolish enough to try and set me up with someone. You must know better... Please, tell me that you know better...!"
A distinctly unladylike guffaw emerged from the kitchen.
"It's not like that. I wouldn't do that to either of us! No, this is a surprise, and I'm not telling you anything in advance because I don't want to prejudice your response. Just trust me, OK? You said yourself that you need a change of scene."
Her head popped around the corner again, dreadlocks flicking against the wall and her café-au-lait skin limned by the weak afternoon sun.
"It'll be interesting, and we're not leaving here until ten o'clock which is practically lunchtime for you, so chill, yeah? It'll be a nice drive, pretty scenery, a short visit, and then back by the afternoon for takeaway and Merlot. Don't fret."
Hermione grumbled and reclined. She was too exhausted to complain, and delicious smells were emanating from the kitchen. Roz's cat, Hepzibah, hopped up on the sofa and tramped a circle on Hermione's belly before settling down to sleep, purring like a small, furry, tabby-patterned engine. The couch creaked as she reached for a cushion to put behind her head and John Martyn's Solid Air drifted gently through the room.
The last time Hermione had seen Roz had been in June, snatching a night from a relentless workload in London to come and see Whitney Houston at the M.E.N. Roz had been so excited - it had been a no-brainer that they should go together. Now autumn was here, and it all seemed like a long time ago.
Never one to shy away from work, even she was starting to feel that things were moving at an unsustainable pace in London. A long weekend with one of her best friends had felt like a glorious late birthday present, and she had arrived in Manchester by train a couple of hours ago. Long of the opinion that Roz's flat was a magical sort of space, she relaxed as soon as she walked through the door. Green plants glossy with health, white walls covered with Peruvian textiles and theatre posters, and a truly appalling quantity of windchimes gave the air of a wholly bohemian occupant. Psychology textbooks littered the coffee table, and Hepzibah's scratching post stood beside a massive handpan. Hermione was fascinated with the handpan and made Roz play it on evenings when they'd had too much wine. Her visits here invariably made her question why she was still living alone in her parents' colossal house. Stroking Hepzibah behind the ears, Hermione thought yet again that if she would only allow herself some breathing space, it might let her give serious consideration to how she was living.
"Set the table, H!" called Roz. "It'll be ready in five. And there's wine in the fridge." Gently dislodging Hepzibah, Hermione rolled to her feet and went in search of cutlery.
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23rd October, 2010.
Roz tapped Hermione gently on the arm after bringing the car to a stop.
"H, wake up, we're here, sleepy-head! I know you said you always doze off in cars, but you were out before we got off the M60! I think you set records, mate!"
Hermione groaned as she opened her eyes and gazed blearily around her.
"And yet I didn't have the brains to bring my neck pillow... Gah. You could have woken me; I didn't mean to abandon you and miss the drive. I don't know where we are, but it's glorious."
Still trying to un-crick her neck, she followed Roz out of the car and round to the front of a house drawn as if by a child. The entrance stood between two perfectly gleaming windows, and a garden of wildflowers sloped down the hill before it.
"It gets even better," said Roz with a grin and knocked happily on the navy blue door.
Enraptured by the golden autumnal light and the beautifully coppered leaves, it took Hermione a moment to turn away from the spectacle. She had heard her friend's hello, the accompanying sounds of kisses on cheeks, and winced when Roz poked her in the ribs, beaming at her.
"Hermione Granger," she chuckled, gesturing to the tall, dark-haired man dressed in ancient combats and a heavy grey roll-neck jumper beside her, "I am delighted to introduce the, frankly, ridiculously named Severus Snape. Sev, this is my over-worked mate from London that I was telling you about. OK, now I've done the polite intro bit, I need your bathroom. I'll be right back."
And she bolted into the house, calling over her shoulder about putting the kettle on.
Hermione found herself shaking the slightly calloused and torn hand of her old Potions professor and laughed. It was completely involuntary, and she was horrified with herself. Severus, clearly also caught unawares, gazed down at her with a hint of his old disapproval and when he could see her try to gather herself together, he winked and gestured her indoors.
"I believe," he said quietly, "that for Roz's sake, we might have corresponded previously on the topic of...organic small-holdings, wasn't it?"
One eyebrow raised in a still disturbingly familiar fashion, he led her into a kitchen with a range and wooden cupboards around a Belfast sink. It was warm and inviting, and the scarred oak kitchen table had a bunch of freshly picked carrots at one end.
"Ah, yes, I remember now," said Hermione, still feeling somewhat dazed. "A couple of years ago, I think? I'm sorry, I speak to so many people in the course of my work... I'm sure you understand."
He nodded, smiling.
"But Roz didn't tell me who I would be meeting today so, er, forgive me if I gawp from time to time."
"I'm given to understand I have that effect on people sometimes," he said as he filled the kettle and set about assembling a tray with a milk jug and sugar bowl. He pulled a multicoloured knitted tea cosy out of a drawer beside the sink.
Hermione chuckled. "I'm uncharacteristically stuck for words, but it's truly lovely to see you. You look... Well, uh, obviously you look different, but you..."
She trailed off, hearing the sounds of Roz returning down the hallway. "Oh God, please kick me under the table if you think I'm going to say anything incriminating."
Severus grinned. "My pleasure. Just don't raise your hand if I ask you a question."
"You can talk when I have tea, Sev; cut the slacking," Roz scolded, bounding around the corner into the kitchen. "Isn't it gorgeous?" she asked Hermione, looking around. "I'd kill for a kitchen like this, but he refuses to let me move in, no matter how much I plead."
"But I do so look forward to your visits, Rosemary. I'm told familiarity is apt to breed contempt and that would never do."
"I s'pose you may have a point. But I'd risk it if you ever changed your mind," she laughed.
Severus filled the teapot, added the cosy, and looked out the window consideringly.
"I think, if you are prepared to keep your jackets on, we might have our tea on the terrace. It would be a shame to miss the colours and the sunshine, don't you think? And if you behave, there may be scones and jam too."
Roz made a happy squeaking sound and hugged him soundly. "We'll be absolute angels, I promise." Hermione nodded in agreement, taken by the delight on her friend's face.
"Very well. Take the tray out with you. I shall bring scones as soon as I've removed them from the oven. They need another two or three minutes, I think. Hermione, will you take the basket there with the cushions and blankets? You'll be more comfortable - the chairs are charming, but wrought iron's a little chilly at this time of year."
The two women gathered their respective burdens and left by the back door, Roz's exclamations and her companion's quiet responses floating back as they crossed to the terrace overlooking the valley below.