Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.

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Chapter Two

The Arrival of Severus Snape

Severus Snape stood by his bed, eyeing the belongings he had set out to take to Hogwarts. It was an exercise in futility because he knew everything he wanted to take was there, waiting to be packed. It was merely a way to buy himself more time—time to consider the ramifications of the traveling down a road he really had no desire to follow. He could easily decline the offer that had been presented to him, but the dreaded words 'what if' plagued his mind. What if he refused, knowing full well he might be able to help? What if he decided to help, only to discover there was nothing to be done?

Severus sat down with an agitated huff as he summoned a satchel from his closet. Carefully and meticulously, he shrank and placed his clothes inside the makeshift suitcase. The Potion books followed and finally his Potions kit. He had no idea how long he would be gone, but reasoned he was just a short Apparation away should he find himself in need of any of his things. Bag in hand, he stood up and walked from his bedroom toward the stairs leading to the first floor.

He walked slowly down the narrow hall toward to the staircase, silently casting charms and enchantments to deter any intruder ignorant enough to try to step foot inside his home. Growing up in Cokeworth had taught him a thing or two concerning home security; any house left unattended for an extended period of time was subject to a fair amount of looting. As his house was one of the more respectable ones remaining in the township, he took every precaution guarding against those who had less-than-savory intentions. He stopped at the last door, closed it and began casting a series of complex enchantments. He watched as the entry to his Potions lab disappeared into the wall entirely, leaving a smooth surface in its wake. If there was any room he wished to remain hidden, it was his Potions lab. It had been the main source of his livelihood since he had left his post at Hogwarts.

Being a private Potions dealer had its perks, giving him an opportunity to travel the world in search of exotic ingredients and various Potions tomes. It had also given him an escape from his dreadfully monotonous life style. A terminal bachelor and general hard-arse did not lend itself to many social outings, but Severus Snape was reasonably content. Reasonably content. The thought of changing the routines he had established and carried out each day was daunting. For some reason, a particularly irksome part of him felt the change was necessary, because, though content enough in his life, Severus was beginning to discover how incredibly bored he had become.

Satisfied he had successfully hidden his stores and lab, he finally took to the stairs. Severus continued the same procedure on the ground floor, taking extra care to place the appropriate enchantments on his impressive personal library. Second to his Potions Lab, Severus's private collection of books was a great treasure, not to mention particularly dangerous should the books fall into the hands of a sneak thieving Muggle or unsavory wizard. With a flick of his wand, Severus watched as the book shelves were absorbed into the wall, leaving behind no trace of having been there. Another swish cleared the stark sitting room of any remaining sheets of parchment, quills and outdated copies of the Daily Prophet.

Severus sauntered over to his leather chair to take in his newly renovated room one final time. "The model of Muggle mediocrity," he mused aloud as he surveyed the scene. During his scan for any lingering evidence of the magical world, his eyes caught on the object of his distress. The Portkey he was to use to get to Hogwarts. He studied it with great scrutiny for the longest time before an agitated noise escaped from him. No matter what Severus tried to tell himself, no matter the reasons he gave for not wanting to go, his conscience eventually won out. He got to his feet, throwing the satchel over his shoulder.

"Best be done with it." He grabbed the inkwell with his free hand, disappearing almost instantly from his sitting room.

Several hundred miles away, Hermione Granger had just awakened from a restless night of sleep. She had managed to spend another night away from her bed in favor of her uncomfortable spot on her settee. She looked up with a yawn, surveying her makeshift work area. Before her were massive tomes and several rolls of aged parchment. The contents of the parchments varied, but they all centered around finding a way to cure her friend. The number of nights Hermione had fallen asleep with a book or quill in her hand were becoming far too many, but it was something she was growing accustomed to.

Minerva had fallen ill around the start of the previous term, though it was quite possible that her ailment had started before that. Hermione would have likely been oblivious to her former professor's condition even if symptoms had been present, as her mind had been preoccupied with her own tumultuous personal issues. The relationship she had with Ron had started to crumble before her eyes because they simply wanted different things. Truth be told, it had started to chip and crack years before it finally fell apart that fateful day in June. Hermione was focused on her career; Ron was more concerned with settling down. Settling was simply something Hermione was not comfortable doing, though for the longest time she kept telling herself she was. Her analytical, overly critical side eventually won out, and as a result, their relationship never went beyond anything but a simple courtship.

She closed her eyes, remembering all too well the night their relationship and friendship ended.

Hermione had just arrived in Muggle London, having taken the train from Hogwarts to King's Cross Station. She welcomed the quiet walk back home. With another school term over, she was relieved to get a bit of down time to pursue activities of a more leisurely nature. Hermione turned the corner of her street, seeing Ron sitting on the steps outside the door of the flat they shared—something he never did. Hermione could feel that sickening knot form in the pit of her stomach, almost as if she could sense the impending conversation.

"Ron?"

The redhead looked up from his shoes with an uncharacteristically weak smile that only made her heart sink further. "Hermione, I have to talk to you about something."

"Okay, let's go inside."

She held out her hand to help him up and he took it, squeezing it like a lifeline for a fraction of a second before letting it go. Once inside, Ron took her bag, placing it on the floor beside them. Hermione tried to brush off his odd behavior, but deep down she knew what he wanted to talk about. It was all he ever talked about.

"Do you want tea or anything?" Hermione asked, toeing off her shoes.

Ron was quiet for a while before he finally found the will to speak. "I've been thinking about you and me."

"Okay…" Hermione trailed off, suddenly realizing how very real the situation was. "What have you been thinking?"

"I don't think you and I are on the same page." Ron ran his hand through his hair as if trying to find the words to express what he wanted to say. "I've never been good at this sort of thing, you know that, but I think we're pulling each other apart by wanting to go in different directions."

"We've talked about this at length. What is wrong with the way things are?"

"Where we are is not where I want to be."

"Ron," she began, frustrated and a bit defensive, "just tell me what you want from me."

"I want you, Hermione. That's all I've ever wanted! You are so bloody blind sometimes it's pathetic."

"How dare you say such a thing?! You have me," she said as she grabbed hold of his hands in hers. "I'm standing right here!"

"No I don't, not really. I gave everything to you, Hermione. I waited for you to finish your education. I waited for you to get your dream job. I waited for you to make a name for yourself in your field. I'm tired of waiting for my life to begin. But you apparently aren't."

"Do you really truly want that life, or do you want it because your best friend and little sister have it?"

Ron's face flared nearly as red as his hair. "You know that's not it at all!"

"Really, because that's all I ever hear from you. 'Harry and Ginny this, Harry and Ginny that'. Harry and Ginny are Harry and Ginny, Ron. You and I," she said pointing between the two of them, "are us. We are completely different. We want different things."

"No, you want different things," Ron snapped. "Sometimes I wonder why you even bother to stay with me. It's almost like you pretend to be happy for my sake."

Hermione sat down heavily on the nearby settee as Ron's revelation slashed into her like a knife. He was spot on and she knew it. Truth be told, she had known it for a while, but refused to acknowledge it. She looked up at him noticing the quiver in his lip as he tried to conceal his torment. The last thing she wanted to see was him hurting. To know she was the cause of his distress quickly turned her preconceived anger to guilt.

"You're right," Hermione managed through the fresh tears threatening to spill from her eye. "There is no use in trying when the pieces don't fit anymore. No matter how much we twist and turn ourselves in an attempt to accommodate the other, we'll never fit together. I've known it for a while, and I think you have too."

Ron grabbed his jacket from its hook, throwing it over his shoulder. He started for the door, but turned at the last second. "You're wrong. I have never once thought that. In the last thirteen years, I have never for a minute thought you weren't the one for me. You decided you weren't the one for me."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Hermione admitted, fiddling with her hands in her lap. She couldn't look him in the face after that.

"Don't bother saying anything. I'm going to Ginny's." Ron said nothing else as he walked through the door and out of her life.

Those eight words were the last she had heard from him, because when Ron returned later that night, Hermione was gone. She packed everything she owned and returned to Hogwarts within the hour of their breakdown. She knew it had been a long time coming, but that did not make it hurt any less. With her parents still living in Australia and her friends taking Ron's side in the split, Hermione felt alone. Hermione's heartache was far from over. A few weeks following her returning to the castle, Hermione received the devastating news that both of her parents had died in an auto accident in Sydney. Hermione took the loss especially hard. She tried her best to hide her grief, but at that point, she spent most days mulling over why she was even getting out of bed. It was not until Minerva came to her one day, offering a sharp kick to her arse that she realized she needed to lift herself up by her boot straps and get on with her life.

Hermione poured herself into her job and opened herself up to Minerva more than she thought she could. Her former Head of House became a close friend, taking on the role of the meddlesome mother hen. Just when things started to look up for Hermione, Minerva's health took a nose dive. Determined not to let another thing slip from her, Hermione began her quest to do whatever she could to help. In addition to her work responsibilities, Hermione searched tirelessly to find anything that would help. Unfortunately, all of her work had been for nothing. Minerva was getting worse and Hermione was running out of options. Her last hope was Severus Snape.

She had not even considered Snape as a resource until Minerva had mentioned him in a casual conversation several months before. He had made a name for himself in the world of Potion making. Hermione could easily remember the article he published in a prominent Potions journal detailing the several new uses of Lacewing Fly he had discovered. The fact he had made strides in Potions development was not why she was interested in his help, but rather the knowledge he possessed from having once lived and breathed the darker side of magic. Hermione hoped he would have the necessary knowledge to help her, but more importantly, she hoped he would agree to help.

The more she thought on the subject, the more Hermione grew impatient and anxious as she waited for her former professor's reply. When she left his home the day before, Hermione thought she had him convinced for the simple reason he did not toss her out in the street after she asked for his help. Now, as she thought back on it, she realized he behaved rather impassively about the entire situation. Severus Snape was the sort of man who wasted no time in telling someone exactly what he thought. Hermione reasoned the lack of reply meant he was giving her proposal some thought.

In an effort to calm her nerves, Hermione decided she might as well start her day and make herself some tea. Soon enough her private quarters were filled with the subtle scent of Lady Grey tea. The soft aroma of the delicate lavender was exactly what she needed. Hermione carried her tray to her desk, proceeded to pour herself a cup and was lifting the hot beverage to her lips when a muffled crack resounded through her sitting room, sending the cup flying from her grip. The tea cup flew in the direction of the noise and, much to her mortification, connected with Severus's chest, dousing him with the scorching hot contents. "For fuck's sake, woman!"

The realization that she had just thrown a hot cup of tea all over Severus Snape set her straight instantly. She was out of her seat in a flash in an attempt to rectify her mistake. "Oh my goodness, Professor Snape! I am so sorry," she said frantically, blotting his front with the hem of her dressing gown. "Let me help—"

"Don't touch me, I can manage it!" Severus snarled as he pushed her away. "Why didn't you throw the whole damned teakettle while you were at it?"

Hermione recoiled at his tone before she realized he was really the one at fault. "I said I was sorry. Besides, you scared me silly. You can't just pop in whenever you'd like, you know!"

"Forgive me for asking," Severus snapped, drawing his wand to siphon off the Lady Grey that had seeped into his clothes, "but why in Merlin's name would you give me a Portkey if you did not wish for me to use it?"

"You were supposed to send a letter! I had no idea you were coming!" About the time the words escaped her lips, a soft rapping noise came from one of the windows on the far side of the room. Hermione and Severus looked up in the same instance to spot a rather large owl perched outside.

Severus narrowed his eyes, though Hermione could not tell if his incredulous expression was aimed toward her or the bird. "Your bloody letter, madam."

Hermione started to open her mouth, but the look on Snape's face squashed any such notion of a retort. Instead, she quickly walked over to the window to allow the bird entry. As soon as the window was wide enough for it to squeeze through, the Great Grey owl swooped in the room nearly whacking Hermione in the head with its impressive wingspan. She turned to see that the bird had settled itself on the edge of her desk, looking as put out as its owner. Hermione waited for Severus to tend to his owl, then realized he was not about to budge.

Eager to get the winged menace out of her personal chambers, Hermione hurried over to the bird, reaching for the roll of parchment attached to its foot. The owl did not appreciate the sudden encroachment on its space and went directly for her fingers in retaliation. Hermione ignored the slight sound of approval coming from the man standing beside her, instead turning her attention to his discontented familiar. "There is no denying to whom you belong," Hermione muttered to herself as she finally managed to get the parchment from the wide-eyed creature.

Once the bird was relieved of its cargo, it looked to Severus for direction, completely ignoring the biscuit Hermione offered as payment.

"Off with you, then, before you fall victim to boiling," Snape said mockingly. The bird squawked in response before nearly taking Hermione's head off as it took its leave.

"Your letter," Hermione said, holding it up timidly to Severus. "I guess there's really no need to read it."

"So it would seem," he managed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is it safe to assume you do not have anything ready?"

Hermione sat his letter on the edge of her desk. "It does look that way, yes. If you'll give me just a moment," she said, heading toward her bedroom, "I'll start correcting that."

Severus sat down on Hermione's sofa carefully so as to not disrupt the various things strewn about its cushions. "Do take your time," he called sarcastically after her retreating form.

On the other side of her closed door, Hermione buried her head in her hands. What a fantastic way to start the day, she thought to herself. Then it hit her. Severus Snape was in her sitting room. He would not have come all this way unless he had intentions to help her! Refusing to waste any more time, Hermione retreated to her lavatory, only taking the time to brush her teeth and change into something more appropriate. Taking one last look at her in the mirror, Hermione tried to talk herself down.

"For goodness sake, Hermione, get it together. If he didn't leave after you assaulted him with your tea, he isn't leaving." She stood there, watching herself chew on her own lip for longer than she wished, before finally gaining the composure to actually speak with him. Hermione pulled the latch of her door, willing herself not to blow this opportunity.

Hearing the subtle click, Severus looked up from the parchment he had busied himself with during her absence, noticing the nervous expression that was on her face.

"I see you have found some of my research pertaining to Minerva."

Severus merely nodded, turning his attention back to the document in hand. "Indeed."

"What you see there is only some of it," Hermione offered. She went straight to her desk and began rummaging around in one of the large drawers. Severus watched as she brought several thick bound sheets of parchment from the desk. "The information I have gathered thus far is in these five journals. I find it easier to focus on a certain symptom as opposed to looking at the broader picture—at least until we can figure out exactly what the problem is."

"What exactly are her symptoms?"

"Her magic is erratic at best. Sometimes she is able to change into her Animagus form. Other days she can't even manage a simple Summoning Charm. At first, the days where her magical ability was disrupted were very few. Now within the span of a few weeks, the disruptions tend to happen four out of the seven days. Here," she said, handing him one of the journals, "have a look for yourself."

Severus's brow furrowed in concentration as he examined the rather extensive log Hermione had kept over the last few months. "And the disruptions, as you call them, are they becoming more severe?"

Hermione sat down on the sofa, looking absently through some of the research she had complied. "That is a safe assumption, yes. Though, Minerva usually refuses to do any sort of magic so I can test this theory. I usually have to wait in the wings to see if she can do anything."

Severus stood abruptly, handing Hermione her journal as he passed her. "I must admit, I have never seen anything of this nature."

"You aren't the only one."

"Having said that, I don't know if I will be able to be of any great assistance, but as you could guess by my being here, I am here to help you find what you are looking for.

"I cannot thank you enough, sir."

Severus ignored her thanks, walking toward the door to her chambers instead. "I think it's time to see the Headmistress," he said as exited to the hall.

Hermione stood from her settee, hastily trailing after his looming form. She was surprised to see he had cleared a considerable distance up the hall by the time she made it outside her quarters. Some things didn't change. Apparently, Severus Snape's hell-bent walk was one of them. "I don't think that is such a good idea right now!"

Severus spun on his heel, nearly causing Hermione to run into him. "And why is that?"

"I haven't had time to prepare for your arrival."

"You're lying," he said, narrowing his gaze. "The truth now, Miss Granger, or I walk out the front gate to leave you alone to your task."

"Minerva doesn't know you are here," Hermione blurted out, frustrated.

"What does that have to do with anything? She has been requesting my presence for the past three months." Severus turned to continue down the corridor when a pair of petite, firm hands caught him by the sleeve of his jacket.

"I mean she doesn't know the real reason you are here. If she finds out she will refuse our help and all of our efforts will be for nothing. Let me talk to her first," Hermione pleaded. "Let me to convince her you are here for a visit."

Severus's face took on the scowl Hermione recognized all too well. She smiled at him uneasily, trying to appease him. Unfortunately, Severus Snape was not one to be placated. "You are unbelievable. You show up at my home unannounced to solicit my help in some nonsensical task only to refuse me the opportunity to do anything productive. Remind me again why I am here. "

"Please, just let me break the news to her. You'll speak to her before the day is out, I promise. I haven't had time to get the house-elves to prepare your lodging, so for the time being you can stay in my office or my personal rooms."

"There is no need for that, Hermione," a voice said from behind her. The overly Scottish brogue of the Headmistress's voice told Hermione she had overstepped her bounds. The two of them turned to see the Minerva McGonagall standing at the end of the hall with a scowl on her face.

"I believe she knows, Miss Granger," Severus said with a satisfied smirk. "If you'll excuse me, I have business with the Headmistress."

Hermione sulked behind him, surprised to see the frown on Minerva's face turn into the first genuine smile she had seen from her in months.

"You look like death, Minerva," Severus quipped, striding to where she stood.

"You have turned into the epitome of sunshine, Severus," she laughed weakly. "You are looking particularly approachable. Lost your touch, have you?"

"You have yet to irritate me, old bat," he said, taking her arm. "What is all of this nonsense of you ailing?"

"I'm afraid that is our dear Hermione's doing," Minerva said, casting a quick glance to the younger woman. "She tends to overreact and has taken me on as her latest project."

A smug look flashed across Severus's face. "Your Gryffindor golden child has not changed, Minerva. However, I would be concerned given the way her other interests have turned out. S.P.I.T, was it? If I remember correctly that took a ghastly turn."

"For your information, it was S.P.E.W," Hermione grumbled, "and an admirable cause."

Minerva brought a hand to Hermione's shoulder comparable to that of a mother trying to soothe an irritable child. "I trust my golden child with my life, Severus. Though her methods are questionable, I know she has my best interest at heart. She is not so different from you really."

Severus's lips curled with displeasure. "There is no hope for you if your mental facilities have disintegrated enough for you to make such an observation."

Minerva laughed, but Severus could see right through her. The Headmistress could, when the situation called for it, be an exquisite liar. However, the fact she dodged the entire question sent up a red flag. Severus could sense her condition the moment he saw her. Minerva was a strong woman, but whatever was causing her torment was taking a toll on her no matter how much she tried to downplay it.

"At any rate, you are a terrible liar, Minerva. Something is troubling you."

The Headmistress stopped in her tracks with a sigh. "Perhaps this is a conversation that requires a more private arrangement," Minerva replied. "My office should be suitable."

"Minerva, if you would like, my chambers are just down the hall," Hermione offered.

"I'm not an invalid, Hermione. I am merely a tired, old woman," the witch said. "I could use the fresh air and I'm sure Severus would like to peruse the halls for old times' sake."

"I would rather not, but it appears I have no choice," Severus said, taking Minerva's arm again, urging her to move. "On with you then, I don't have all day."

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Author's Notes: A very special thanks to my betas, Meladara and Desigrl. These two gave saved my arse more times than they'll ever know. Also, my readers and reviewers, you make me smile. The time you take to read and review amazes me and I can't thank you enough. That said, your reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated. Go forth and read my friends!