Chapter 6
Her answer to his missive lies heavy on her tongue. She teeters between addressing his every sentiment right away, or taking her time and thinking it over, no matter how useless that seems at the moment. Tossing and turning until the sheets are tangled, the morning brings into light her bleary eyes and her weary heart.
She intends to accept his invitation, though he has left its nature unspecified. Whether he wishes for her to meet with him, or to write him back, is unclear. Hermione knows that he is leaving it up to her, rather than specifying the terms on which they would see each other for the first time after the war.
It is this unexpected courtesy that decides it. Rising from the bed, she takes a second to get her bearings before sitting at her desk. Pulling a piece of parchment to her, her pen poised over it, she hesitates before beginning to write.
Dear Headmaster,
I must thank Minerva for her advice to you. I have time to discuss your project today or tomorrow, as I will be returning to my work on Monday. Please let me know if either day suits your schedule.
Regards,
Hermione
Not thinking twice about rewriting her reply, she whistles for her owl, Najma, and attaches the rolled scroll to her leg. The owl, impatient as always, flies swiftly through the window, and Hermione watches the majestic beating of her wings disappear into the dawn. She hopes that it is not too early for him to receive her owl, but it is too late for those thoughts now.
Tired and resigned, her morning routine calls to her. By the time she has gotten herself to rights, then prepared coffee and a light breakfast, Najma is back and pecking at the window.
Miss Granger,
Very well. If we are to collaborate, I implore you to use my given name. You may floo directly into the Headmaster’s office at lunch later today.
Yours gratefully,
Severus
The remainder of the morning is uncharacteristically serene. Instead of the usual nervousness she would feel at such a daunting meeting with the man who used to be her professor, she finds comfort in her surety. She knows that he would have never asked for her input had she not become excellent in her field of study.
Perhaps, in explaining his dilemma to her, he had seemed so different from the Potions professor of her youth. It had surprised her that he had been upfront regarding his reasons for approaching her. In her previous associations with him, and with other Slytherins, she had come to realise that there were often multiple motives for any interaction.
It is safe for her to assume that indeed, it is so, but maybe with more academic leanings; those she could easily indulge. In dealing with him, however, she would draw the line at any deprecation or dismissal of her. She is no longer his student, and although he had given her permission to use his given name, she truly only knew the Professor, not the man.
His portrayal of himself across his letters intrigues her. What little she knows of his project rouses her curiosity, and she wonders how she can use Arithmancy to help him change so many people’s lives. How he intends to use her knowledge fascinates her, just as he always has, in some way, even when she thought him a traitor to the Light and had truly hated him for all the hurt he had caused.
After getting dressed, Hermione picks up both pieces of parchment again and ponders his directness. The no-nonsense tone of his statements is familiar to her, but the familiarity is not. To ask her to call him by his name… A shiver passes through her as she speaks it aloud.
“Severus.”
Her chest tightens for a moment, and she misses a breath. Would he use her name, if she asks him to? Sliding the letters into her messenger bag, she fidgets with it before grabbing some floo powder from the bowl on the mantle.
“Headmaster Snape’s office!” she says, stepping into the flames.