Chapter 1

The Headmistress’ office was somewhat less colorful than it had been when Dumbledore had been head of the school, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t welcoming. Hermione stirred the cream into her tea, and relaxed back into the high-backed leather chair Professor McGonagall had conjured for her. She would be graduating in a fortnight, and the headmistress had set up their meeting to discuss her prospects now that she was finally completing her official schooling.

“And what is it that you had hoped to do, Miss Granger? As I am sure you are aware, the options are almost limitless in your case?” McGonagall looked across the desk at her, an indulgent smile on her face. “You were one of the most committed and accomplished students I have ever had the pleasure of teaching, and I want you to know that I was very pleased that you decided to return and complete your last year here with us at Hogwarts. I will do everything within my power to get you whatever placement or apprenticeship you desire.”

Hermione smiled back. “Thank-you Professor. I have done some thinking, and though I know that the ministry has offered, and St. Mungo’s, I rather think I might prefer pure research for the time being. After all the events of the last few years it has been nice to just be able to study, and read and pursue what interests me this year.”

“Of course. Had you thought about which subject you might like to pursue?”

“Something that will be useful, I think - Potions or Charms - something that could be used in healing.”

“And you are sure that you do not wish to apprentice at St. Mungo’s? Several prominent healers there have shown a marked interest in you.”

“No death and suffering for the time being, Professor, please. Pure research: cures for things they say are incurable, panaceas, anything to alleviate all the suffering that…” Her voice trailed off at the thought of those close to her who had suffered far more than they ever should have had to.

Ron hadn’t been the same since his brother died; Mrs. Weasley was a mere shadow of the woman she had been. Ginny had come to her in tears often over the last year in regard to how distant and cold Harry had been toward her. And then there were those who had been wounded, many still suffering the terribly after effects of being struck with Unforgivables. “I – I’ve seen too much suffering, too much death, and I – I think I’d rather try and put a stopper in it if I can. St. Mungo’s would just mean having to face more of it day in and day out. I suppose it’s horribly selfish of me, but I…”

McGonagall held up a hand to stop her. “Not selfish at all, Miss Granger. No one would think to accuse you of that after all you’ve seen; all you’ve done. You are quite right. You have seen more than your fair share of the darker side of life for one your age. I will look into the possibilities and we can discuss them in more detail…” her voice trailed off as she consulted a small calendar on her desk. “A week from today; the same time, same place if that works for you.”

“Yes Professor. That will be fine.”

XxxX

She and Ginny walked side by side up the curving path to the Burrow. Given the losses to the Weasley family the prior year, and the fact that Hermione’s parents had only returned from Australia in November, both she and Ginny had been given special permission to return home weekends when they wished.

Hermione alternated between the Weasley’s and her parent’s houses; one weekend with one and the next with the other. This weekend it was the Weasley’s and she had to admit that she wasn’t entirely looking forward to it. The home that had once been a bastion of warmth and joy now seemed to have a bleak pall hanging over it that could not be lifted. Ron usually spent the time reviewing Quidditch stats, beer in hand in the back garden, and Harry would just discuss business the whole time with Arthur.

She supposed that she couldn’t really blame either of them. Ron didn’t know how to handle grief, never having had to experience a real loss like that of his elder brother before, and Harry had more things on his plate than she cared to think about. Between all the stress of his new duties as an Auror, the constant interview requests, and the tail end of the Death Eater trials she didn’t know how he managed to keep it together sometimes. At least the unpleasantness with Severus Snape had finally been settled a few weeks prior.

After nearly six months recovery in St. Mungo’s the poor man had been released only to be thrown straight into Azkaban. Harry had fought long and hard to have him exonerated, and the stress of the trials and seemingly never ending appeals process had literally exhausted him. She had physically seen the difference when she had come to the Burrow the weekend before last. His eyes were brighter and he looked as though a physical weight had been lifted from his young shoulders now that the man had finally been set free.

Ginny seemed to be anticipating taking advantage of the change herself. Her footsteps were light and she chattered on beside her as they approached the house, talking about everything from graduation, to marriage to the latest fashions.

It was a rather strained looking Arthur Weasley and wide-eyed Harry who met them as they approached the back door to the kitchen. They were hurrying outside as the sound of clanging pots and shattering crockery echoed from the room behind them. “Oh Ginny!” Arthur breathed with relief. “Thank Merliln, you’re here. Your mother’s having a bad day. Do go in and see if you can help her. The cake she was making for the grand opening of George’s new Manchester shop’s fallen flat, and now…well…” he motioned back toward the ruckus emanating from the kitchen.

Ginny just nodded knowingly and pushed past them into the kitchen to try and calm her mother, leaving Hermione alone with Arthur and Harry. Arthur smiled wearily at her. “Ron’s…”

“In the back garden,” she finished for him.

He nodded. “Yes, yes. In the back garden. I’ve got to run to the Ministry on important business. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Are you going too?” she asked Harry.

“No. It’s not my department.”

“Oh,” she nodded, and Arthur patted her gently on the arm before hurrying beyond the wards at the end of the lane and Apparating away. She watched him go and then turned back to Harry with a sympathetic smile. “You look tired, Harry. Things busy at the Ministry?”

“Things are always busy at the Ministry,” he sighed. He pushed past her and headed toward the vegetable garden. “Mrs. Weasley wants me to pick peas for supper,” he mumbled by way of explanation.

Setting down her suitcase she followed, snatching the bowl out of his hands. “Here Harry, let me. You can catch me up on things. I want to know everything you’ve been up to.”

It felt good to get down on her hands and knees in the dirt. She started to root through the small bushes in search of the largest pods, tearing them off and tossing them into the bowl. “I had hoped that things might have calmed down for you a bit now that Professor Snape’s trial is over.”

A heavy sigh caused her to look up. Harry was fishing around in his pockets. Finally he yanked out a pack of fags and pulled one out bringing it to his lips, while he patted himself down in an attempt to find a light.

“When did you start to smoke?” she demanded.

He just shrugged.

Scrambling to her feet she tore the thing from his lips and tossed it to the ground, crushing it under foot.

Harry grimaced. “Hermione, please…”

“What?” she demanded, hand coming to her hip. “You know they’re bad for you.”

“I’m sure there’s a spell or potion out there that can… Wizards don’t get cancer, do they?”

He had a point, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “That’s not the point!” she insisted. “The point is they’re not good for you, and you know better. What on earth does Ginny say?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Well I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“Hermione…” He was almost whining now, and she bit back a smile as she turned around and got back down on her knees to resume picking.

“Now you still haven’t answered my question.”

“You haven’t asked one,” he stated petulantly.

“Have so. How have things been since Professor Snape’s trial ended? I thought it would have alleviated at least a little of your stress.”

He sighed heavily again. “I went to see him the other day, you know.”

Her head snapped up at that. “What? Really? Well – how did he look, was he alright?”

Harry’s brow furrowed a little. “He looked as I imagine anyone who had just spent six months in Azkaban would look. He looked a little like Sirius looked that night we first met him in the Shrieking Shack. He was…”

“Well was he glad to see you?”

“Hermione, when has Snape ever been glad to see me?” There was truth in his statement, but she could hear a sort of sad disappointment in Harry’s voice too. She knew that deep down he had hoped to reconcile with the man, but she was certain that she knew their old Potions master well enough to know just how difficult he would make that.

“Oh…” was all she said.

“He’s been granted a research grant at St. Magdalene College in Oxford. I have a feeling that he is trying to find a Potion that might heal some of the damage he’s suffered as a result of Nagini’s venom. The research proposition mentioned something about ‘broad healing applications’, insinuating that the results might have more far reaching benefits, but that seems a little altruistic for Snape, doesn’t it?”

She just smiled as she kept on piling the peas into the bowl in front of her. “Well I can’t help but envy him the acceptance of his application. McGonagall is looking for a research apprenticeship for me at present, as well.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to take one of the Ministry apprenticeships?”

“No, I think not. I’m rather done with the Ministry at present, I’m afraid.”

“Does Ron know?”

Wiping her hands on the front of her trousers, she picked up the bowl and motioned for him to follow her back to the house. “No. I was going to talk to him about it tonight if he’d ever get his nose out of the sports pages of the Daily Prophet.”

Harry laughed and then sobered again rather quickly. “Things are hard for him right now too, Hermione. You know how incompetent he always seems to feel, and you add all the responsibilities of his new position onto that, the fact that we are two of the youngest Aurors the Ministry has ever hired, and all the weight of…”

“I know. I really do, Harry.”

Harry reached down and picked up her suitcase as they entered the kitchen. It appeared that a temporary calm had descended upon the place. Ginny was summoning ingredients from the pantry, pouring them into a large bowl as a wooden spoon slowly stirred the mixture. Molly was nowhere in sight.

“We got the peas for supper,” Hermione offered.

Ginny just nodded over her shoulder toward the table. “Just set them there. I’ll get to them after the cake. Mum’s gone to lay down for a bit.”

Harry wandered over and wrapped his arms around Ginny’s waist and Hermione saw her friend lean back into the embrace, relishing in the closeness that she had so been missing over the last year. After a moment or two Harry planted a kiss to the top of her head, and then reached over her shoulder to dip his finger in the batter.

Ginny swatted at his hand. “Harry, don’t! Merlin knows where those hands have been!” She was trying to appear serious and affronted, but her tone was light. Harry just smirked and then popped the finger into his mouth to remove the batter before leaning down to kiss her full on the lips.

Hermione smiled and then turned away as a deep longing wrapped itself around her heart. She should really go and find Ron.

XxxX

“Ron, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Hey, ‘Mionie. Want a brew?” She looked down at the couple of bottles sticking out of the pail of ice beside his chair and then at the four empty bottles lined up on the small table beside him and sighed.

“No Ron, I don’t think so. Listen, could you put that paper down for a minute. I really do need to talk to you.” The paper descended and she smiled. “Thanks.”

“Sure. What’s up?” he queried. He was trying to sound bright and interested, but she could hear the tension and weariness in his voice. He just wanted to get back to his Quidditch.

“Don’t worry,” she began. “I’ll get this over with quickly. I just thought you’d want to know that I won’t be apprenticing at the Ministry come autumn. I’ve asked Headmistress McGonagall to find me a research position instead.”

“What? Why?” The paper dropped to the ground, forgotten, as he sat up from the slouch he had been in.

“I…” and suddenly she didn’t know what to say. The ‘why’ of it had made total sense to her in McGonagall’s office, but now she couldn’t seem to find the words. “I’ve just had enough of the Ministry, Ron.”

“Here,” he said, sitting up a little straighter, instantly on the defensive. “What’s wrong with the Ministry?”

“Nothing – nothing. I just – I don’t know how to explain it, okay. I just need books, and research and potions: sure things, certain things, methodical things. I’m tired of adventure. I just want a year or two where I can settle back, and gather my thoughts and do something that isn’t going to hurt anyone. I’m tired of pain and punishment. I just want to heal, to help others heal. I want to feel that I’m doing something useful for a change.”

Ron’s eyes were flashing now. “Who says what I do isn’t useful?!”

“Oh Ron, that’s not what I meant and you know it!” she bit back.

“Like bloody hell, it wasn’t?!”

“Don’t shout. There’s no need. I’ve not come here to get into an argument with you over it. I just thought that I ought to tell you in case – in case you were counting on us being able to work together.”

Ron’s face was beet red, but after a moment of her silence and the two of them just staring at one another, he finally swallowed hard, sat back, and lifted the paper back to its usual place in front of his face. “Alright, you’ve told me. That’s fine. It’s not as though I have a say in it anyway. You always do what you please.”

‘And why shouldn’t I?!’ she wanted to bite back, but she didn’t. Instead she swallowed back the tightness in her own throat and got to her feet. “Dinner’s almost ready. Don’t be late. Your Mum’s having a bad afternoon.”

XxxX

“Well, I think you will be pleased with your choices. There are many very accomplished academic witches and wizards who are very anxious to have you.” Minerva McGonagall leaned back in her chair and pushed a large stack of scrolls toward her, nodding toward them. “Several of those are foreign appointments, mind you, but there are a few there within the U.K.. I didn’t feel as though I should turn any of them down. I know that you and Ron Weasley…” the woman looked away, and cleared her throat rather uncomfortably before continuing. “I would understand if you wanted to stay close to home, Miss Granger, but I thought it best to give you the option. The scrolls at the bottom are the more local appointments.”

Hermione stared at the small mountain before her. There had to be at least twenty choices, and yet there were only four or five at the bottom. No doubt many of the potential academics closer to home had been turned off by her unfortunate celebrity. “I – I hadn’t expected there to be so many foreign appointments.”

“Well if it is something more local you are looking for, there are a few very good options there, and one in particular that might be of interest to you, though I would wholly understand if it was not to your taste.”

“Oh…?”

Leaning forward, McGonagall pulled out a tightly wrapped scroll from the bottom of the pile and handed it to her, saying nothing, but leaning back in her chair and observing her as she unrolled it.

She let her eyes scan the contents quickly and her eyes snapped back up to the headmistress’ as soon as they fell upon an all too familiar name. “Professor Snape?”

“You see Harry often. No doubt you know that Severus has been exonerated.” She nodded and McGonagall continued. “I must confess that it was I who suggested you for the post. He’s been given a small research grant at…”

“St. Magdalene College in Oxford, I know. Harry told me. He is researching the extended applications of modified antivenins, I believe. At least that is what I gathered from what Harry said.”

“Yes. No doubt it was wrong of me to suggest you without your permission, but…” the woman sighed deeply and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of her nose before dropping it again and leaning back wearily in her chair. “Hermione, I am sure that by now you have heard all about the unfortunate circumstances that transpired here at the school the year that you were away. Professor Snape played his role well, and we were all taken in quite thoroughly.”

She nodded, but had to admit that she was a little lost as to where the headmistress was going with the line of conversation.

“I, in particular, was quite – harsh – with him, and I…” her voice trailed away, and Hermione had the distinct impression that the woman across from her was fighting back tears. She recovered quickly though, and sat up a little straighter as she continued. “I am not sure how much Harry has told you, but – Severus is not well, Miss Granger. He needs constant doses of different potions just to function with a modicum of normalcy. He is in almost constant pain, and they say that he most likely will never recover full use of his vocal cords. No doubt you can guess at the reason for his specific research request.”

She nodded, feeling a strange tightness in her chest. Professor Snape had always been a miserable, brooding, waspish sort of a man, it could not be denied, and he had made the life of more than one student a living hell, but still, she hated to think of him in the state the headmistress had just described.

“I am acquainted with the Master of St. Magdalene, as he is an old schoolmate of mine, and he tells me that Professor Snape has refused all offers of assistance, even though he quite obviously needs it. He was concerned, and so I agreed to offer you as an apprentice given the fact that you were a former student and he was already familiar with your work ethic and habits. The Master agreed that you would be a likely candidate.”

She nodded, glancing down at the scroll once more. It was signed:

Malachi Weatherly

Master - St. Magdalene College of Alchemy and the Magical Arts, Oxford

She didn’t see Snape’s signature anywhere. She looked up again. “And what does Professor Snape say to all this? I never gathered that he was all that keen on me as a student. I think he thought me too precocious for my own good.”

McGonagall shifted a little in her seat. “As far as I am aware, Severus has not been informed. We await your decision, Miss Granger, and if you decide that the position is to your liking then Master Weatherly plans on informing Severus that he will be required to take you on as a prerequisite of the grant.”

“He’ll just back out of the grant then. I think I know Professor Snape well enough after all these years to know that he doesn’t take to kindly to blackmail or feeling cornered. I – I would feel badly about accepting an apprenticeship under such conditions.”

The headmistress nodded. “I understand, of course, but you will want time to think over and review all your offers. Do you think a week would be enough time?”

She nodded. “I would want to give you my final decision before graduation Sunday next, so yes, I think that would be enough time.”

“Wonderful. Well I look forward to your decision, whatever it may be. You deserve nothing but the best Miss Granger.”