Acceptance

Acceptance, Chapter 4

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I wonder if this will become a tradition, nightly tea with Snape. I really should write Harry and Ron. They will most certainly be amused by this turn of events.

After a quick trip to the kitchens to grab some semblance of a breakfast, Hermione trekked back up to her quarters to write a letter to Harry and Ron. Harry was currently staying with Ron at the Burrow, at the insistence of Mrs. Weasley. Harry could easily have bought his own house, or stayed at Grimmauld Place, but Mrs. Weasley's offer of accommodations was more like an order. After all, he and Ron were best mates, and worked in the same department at the ministry, and happened to be engaged.

I knew they'd figure it out eventually. After Luna died, there really didn't seem to be anyone else good enough or strange enough for Harry.

Hermione sat down at her desk, picked up her quill and favourite shade of ink (scarlet that flashed gold in the right type of candlelight), and began writing:

Dear Harry and Ron,

Congratulations on your engagement! I know I've said it before but I must repeat myself.

How are the wedding arrangements going? I hope you'll take my advice from the last letter and have it over a school holiday, that way all your old professors (and the professors who didn't formally instruct you (wink wink)) will be able to attend.

Speaking of professors, there has been a most interesting change in my situation at Hogwarts. You know how no one would talk to me except McGonagall before? I now have a new social companion. Three guesses who. (You'll never guess, I bet!) Have some hints: The person likes to paint Muggle-style, gives me chocolate biscuits, and compulsively labels plastic baggies.

Teaching is great still, except I'm buried under an ever-increasing pile of essays to grade. Although I hope to get some pointers tonight at my tea-date with my new friend.

I await your letter, and make sure you guess who!

Love,

Hermione.

She signed her name with a flourish and set her quill down. She didn't feel like physically walking up to the Owlery to send the letter, so she sent it thence via the fireplace which connected to another in the Owlery, a bit like the Floo network. Well, that's over with. Now- the dreaded essays. She set her clock to alert her when it was time to head to the dungeons, and began to mark the papers.

About nine hours later and only five papers left to mark, a loud rendition of La Cucaracha startled Hermione from her work. Belatedly, she realized that she hadn't allowed herself enough time to get dressed properly and get dinner. Knowing she had to make a choice between the two, she chose to get dressed. I don't need dinner, he'll probably give me some biscuits when I'm there.

Ten minutes later found her walking down to the dungeons, essays in hand. This time, she didn't bump into anyone, and found herself standing before what she thought was the seemingly blank portion of wall that concealed the entrance to Severus' private quarters. Suddenly, she realized that she really had now clue what the password was. She knocked. There was no answer. Hermione slumped down and sat on the floor opposite the wall. Figuring she'd have to wait here until Snape came to look for her, she plonked the essays in front of her, retrieved her quill from her breast pocket, and began marking. It was only when a deep, silky voice sounded above her that she looked away from her work.

"Is there anything particular about this section of hallway that you find helpful in grading papers, Hermione?"

It was Severus.

"Well, I knocked on your wall and there was no answer. What do you expect me to do?"

"You could have found a fireplace and contacted mine with it."

"Oh."

She looked around the hallway for a little while, waiting for him to invite her in. Her posterior ached a bit from sitting on the cold, hard stone.

"Shall we stand out here all night, Hermione, or shall we go inside? I have prepared a small repast for us to enjoy, but I fear it would be quite vile were it to congeal."

She noted he was making a point of calling her by her given name.

"Very well, Severus, if you insist. I have rather taken a liking to your hallway, though. And the floor really is most comfortable," she said a bit sarcastically.

He arched an eyebrow, whispered the password to the wall, and entered through the archway that formed. Hermione followed suit.

"What have you planned for this evening, Severus?"

"We are to enjoy a light meal of vegetable curry and basmati rice, with mango lassi and Indian tea. Afterwards, we shall go over the finer points of grading papers at a rapid rate, and then, time permitting...."

"Time permitting.... what?" Hermione asked.

"Do you absolutely have to know?"

"Yes!"

"In that case, I won't tell you. It's a surprise. You'll find out when it happens. Shall we have dinner? I trust you didn't have dinner. You were probably too busy grading papers and didn't have the time-"

She realized he was babbling and decided to save both of them. "Come, let's have dinner before it gets cold."

For the second time, she followed him to his kitchen. As they walked, she watched him walk. Hmm... he walks a bit strangely, almost stiffly. I wonder what happened to him to affect his walk like that.... When they reached the entrance, he spun around and made her stop.

"Tonight, my dear, we eat at the formal table. I'm quite tired of eating dinner in my kitchen, the formal table is much nicer."

Did he just call me 'my dear'? Righty then.

"I didn't realize you had a dining room, Severus." After all, it is odd enough that he has a full kitchen. Most of the teacher quarters only have a kitchenette, or so I've heard from Minerva. A dining room would be really odd. I wonder if he entertains often-

"I don't. I rearrange the furnishings in my living room and conjure a table. It's too much work unless I have company. Go, sit- I'll bring the dinner in about five minutes."

She was directed towards a fairly small circular table with chairs opposite each other. The tablecloth was a dark navy and was offset by a pair of silver candlesticks with navy blue tapers, already lit. The plates and silverware were already there as well. It looked like it was planned as a romantic dinner for two, and this idea made Hermione let out a little snort. He probably thinks it just looks formal, and it does complement some of the accents in the room....

She sat down, and soon afterwards her host returned with a teapot and two cups, which he set on the table before heading back to the kitchen. He appeared again with two steaming bowls, which he put down and sat down himself.

"I hope you enjoy this. It's one of my favourite dinners." With that, he ladled some of the rice and curry onto her plate. She examined it discreetly.

"What's this?" she asked, holding up a square of tofu on her fork. She thought, belatedly, that to hold up one's food and inquire as to its identity was a trifle rude, but decided against doing anything about it.

"Tofu," came the terse reply. "It's a sort of soy bean curd-"

"I know what it is. It was a bit strange to me that you cook with it. I mean, it has always occurred to me as a very Muggle thing."

"What's wrong with that? Am I not entitled to use Muggle food? I thought you might enjoy it, being a Muggle. It's something I discovered during an operation for the Order a few years ago. It's very convenient- it tastes like anything that's around it."

"It's just that I was expecting, say, chicken or beef or something like that."

"Why would you expect that? I thought you were a vegetarian?"

"How did you know? Yes, I am a vegetarian, but most other people aren't, and they don't expect me be one either."

"I know enough from watching you eat in the Great Hall when you were in your seventh year. I thought you'd still be one, due to that Gryffindor tendency to be stubborn and set in your ways."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you a vegetarian yourself?"

"Not strictly, no. I don't eat meat often because I find it makes my temper a bit stronger than it is when I don't eat it. Odd, really, I don't know anyone else to whom that happens."

All right, I wonder exactly how many drinks he had before I arrived because he's babbling way more that is usual for anyone, let alone him. He just seems more relaxed than he always is...like that'd be hard...

The remainder of the meal passed in much the same manner, with discussions on the origin of tofu and a bit of mild argument back and forth. It was, overall, an enjoyable diversion from the tedium of grading papers. The time didn't seem to drag on for Hermione as social visits occasionally did, and before she knew it the time was well past 10.

Severus, too, noticed the hour.

"Perhaps I need to let you go back to marking papers, Hermione, if you need to. It's getting a bit late, you know."

"I thought you'd give me pointers on that, Snape. Grading, that is." She mentally hit her forehead. Stupid, Granger, really. He's going to think you're an incoherent moron now.

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Of course, Granger. I actually just have two suggestions. One, go with your gut. Two, don't spend more than ten minutes per paper. Three, give the person the grade they deserve, not a sugar-coated version. Four, only criticize what's wrong with the paper so they can fix it. Five..."

"I thought you said that you had only two suggestions?"

Snape harrumphed. "Fine then, Miss Know-It-All, if you're so brilliant then you can figure out the rest yourself."

"It's all right, I'll be quiet if you tell me the rest."

"Some other day, Hermione, some other day."

She frowned inwardly at his reply. She wasn't some petulant child begging to hear more of a story! However, she kept her sentiments to herself. Severus would see any resistance to his statement as whiny, and that was definitely not the way she wanted to be seen. They were equals now, after all. Adults working in the same workplace. Colleagues. Dare she think it, even friends.

My, my, how the world changes.

"So, Hermione, do you have time for my little surprise, or do you need your beauty sleep?"

Beauty sleep, really. I ask you.

"I do have time, Severus. Surprise away."

He escorted her to one of his old, woebegone leather couches, and indicated that she should sit down. She noticed from this vantage point what she was not able to on her initial inspection of the room. Several stationary paintings hung on the wall, some of them quite real, some of them extremely abstract, most of them done in a palette of moody and brooding blues, browns, greens, and grays. In the middle of the display was a single, very out-of-place watercolour still life of some tulips in a vase with a sliced pomegranite. The red fruit's juice stained the tablecloth slightly, the white pith that separated the kernels had browned slightly, and one half-sliced ruby seed had fallen from its place. The greenish-white tulips looked a bit wilted, as if the painter had set up his still life but abandoned it for a day or so before painting. It was of a totally different style than the rest of the paintings, and not just in subject matter.

Severus sat down noiselessly beside her and waited for her reaction. After a while, she slowly turned to him and asked, "What's the surprise?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious."

Realization dawned across her face as a faint blush at her oblivious question. She looked at Severus, grinning in a slightly self-deprecating manner.

"No comment from the estimable Ms. Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire of Gryffindor House? A rare occurrence indeed!" sneered Snape in what he meant to be a facetious manner, but he saw in an instant that his seemingly benign comment had a profound impact on the girl.

"They're interesting. I quite like them, but the one in the middle is out of place here," she stated hastily, almost defiantly, as if she felt a need to prove wrong his exclamation.

"How so? Do you think that all the paintings in my quarters had to match the décor?"

"Generally speaking, sir, in properly decorated spaces, the paintings do match the décor. That's usually the point of paintings."

The formality in her diction, even her tone, made him feel that he had somehow offended her with his good-natured know-it-all comment.

"Enough with the sir!" he roared, not intending to be half as frightening as he actually was.

She glared at him, slightly startled and confused, but somewhat angry nonetheless. Although she did not speak, it was clear that she was having a sort of internal battle.

"I must apologize, Hermione. That was very rude of me."

"It's all right, it just startled me is all. Apology accepted."

"Thank you. As we were discussing before, what do you think of the paintings?"

"I believe that I told you they were interesting, and the one with tulips is out of place. Did you do it, sir?"

"No, but I did paint the rest. That particular one was a gift."

"From whom? If you don't mind me prying, Severus."

"It was a gift from my late girlfriend," he responded in a lamely-attempted casual tone, the sadness adding a slight edge to his voice. Hermione stared at him expectantly for a second, then realized her mistake and looked away.

This is Severus Snape we're talking about. A man known for being particularly grumpy and taciturn, especially when it comes to his private life. Hermione remembered what Harry had said back after their fifth year, when he told them about the Pensieve incident. She remembered Harry's description vividly - how he told of the livid rage evident on Snape's face, his slight, uncontrolled shaking.

"It's nice, it really is. It just doesn't seem suited to the space, is all."

"I don't know why I keep it there. It only depresses me. So prophetic. Did you know that she gave it to me only two and a half weeks before she died?"

It clearly wasn't meant for an answer. She'd not know anything of the sort, and besides, old Snape seemed to be in a flashback of sorts. She listened as he rambled on.

"She gave it to me only two and a half weeks before she died. July 14, 1980. That's when I decided to go to the Light side, you see. No use staying on the Dark side after she was gone."

Pity stirred in Hermione's heart, and she asked her question before even thinking about how he might react.

"Was she killed by Death Eaters, Severus?"

He turned to face her fully. "If that was their intent, I would never have let them near my Susanna! She was too powerful, and plus, she was on their side. No, Susanna had cancer... brain cancer. A simple Muggle disease that wizards have yet to find a cure for..."

This revelation rankled in Hermione's mind for the rest of the night, and well into the next morning. It was disturbing, really, not that Snape's lover had been on the Dark side, but that wizards could not cure cancer just as Muggles couldn't.