***Chapter Eleven***

September 19, 1996

Severus paced his office, certain this was the biggest mistake of his life.

He had not bought a gift for a female since Lily their fifth year. That was when she'd gotten serious with James Potter. Friends or not, it was improper to buy another man's witch a gift. If they had retained their close friendship, maybe. A few dances together throughout their years at Hogwarts did not make them close friends.

There was a huge difference between Lily and Hermione Granger. One was his first crush. Only crush.

The other was someone who had been kind to and taken care of him. Someone who had saved his life. Twice now. Would she have if she'd been aware of who he was? He thought that she would. That realization was what led to where he was now.

Pacing. Nervous. Hoping this wasn't a mistake. Should he have told Albus about this beforehand? If she went to Minerva to complain about him being inappropriate with her or something. Well, he wasn't sure he could deal with that.

He'd ultimately refrained from telling Albus about this first because she was an intelligent witch. He didn't suppose she'd take a gift to be anything more than what it was. He wasn't bribing her. He wasn't going to try anything illicit. He just needed to repay her kindness.

A knock on his classroom's door interrupted his thoughts. He knew who it was. Draco had not been included in tonight's meeting. He took a deep breath, calming himself. It would not do if she saw him on edge. He could not have her discovering he was her injured visitor over the summer holidays.

He waved his hand, opening the door.

"Enter," he said.

"You wanted to see me, Professor."

"Thank you for coming," he said.

Stupid thing to say. She was always here, working on their extra credit projects.

He gestured for her to follow him into his office.

"No mischief this evening?" he asked.

"No, Sir," she said.

She sounded confused.

"Your birthday…" he added.

She was clearly surprised he knew what day it was. It wasn't foremost on his mind or anything, but he remembered it from reading her file during her first year.

"Oh! No. Um, I think Mrs. Weasley sent some cupcakes."

"I've heard tell that Mrs. Weasley is quite the baker."

"You've never had anything?"

"I'm afraid I haven't had the privilege. None of the Weasleys have been sorted into Slytherin."

"Of course not!"

He'd take offense, but the soft chuckle and slight smirk she bestowed upon him let him know she was … teasing him. Why? It wasn't something she'd ever done before.

"Remain insolent, and I will forego your gift."

"It was a joke, Sir. They are, in fact, not Slytherins and I don't believe, other than Fred and George maybe, any of them would have come close to being sorted there."

He regarded her for a moment, arms crossed over his chest. She wasn't wrong.

"You got me a gift?" she asked, evidently not intimidated by him. When had that changed? She'd still acted … somewhat uncertain around him last year. Why didn't she today? She did sound cautious, though. So, maybe he was just seeing things.

"Yes and no," he replied.

"That's not really a question you can answer yes and no to."

"Well, I have a gift for you, but I did not get you a gift. Necessarily." Okay, that was splitting hairs and quite untrue. He had, indeed, picked the item out for her as repayment for her kindness. He thought she deserved something . He just couldn't tell her that. Thus, the gift.

She tilted her head, clearly curious.

He gestured to a leather backpack. It was muggle, but it was both nice looking and well made. He wasn't sure what her plans were post-Hogwarts, but wanted it to be something she could use at university or something if she needed to.

"We are going to work on an undetectable Extension Charm."

She slid a hand along the backpack, glancing at him curiously. "Really?"

The gleam in her eyes told him that she wanted very badly to work on the charm with him.

"Really," he drawled. "I figured that way you can take as many books as you wish wherever you go."

She laughed then. Mixed in with the laugh though, was a blush that was really more than the situation called for. It was also something he had never been the cause of before, at least not that he could remember. He'd think about that later. It had to be something else! There was no possible way that he was the cause of this.

All he knew was that last year, she had complained, or maybe it had been the year before, about a Christmas holiday trip that would take her away for ten days with little to read. Was she embarrassed that he remembered that conversation?

"And I get to keep the backpack?"

"Well, there wouldn't be much point in having you do the charm and not allow you to keep the item. No one else would be able to use it, unless they knew of the charm."

"I shouldn't, Sir," she said, sounding none too happy about saying that.

He frowned, not understanding at all. Why not? And she clearly wanted to. So why was she rejecting his gift? He never thought he'd see the day Hermione Granger turned down the chance to learn something. Did she know he was her wounded visitor? How she would have found out, he had no idea. Was she rejecting his gift because she thought he'd been doing something nefarious so close to her home?

She was friends with Harry Potter. Who knew what stories she'd heard about him. He didn't think Harry would say untoward things about him, but others who Harry was friends with could within earshot of this witch.

"Shouldn't what?"

"Accept it."

He scowled, glancing from her to the backpack. "Why ever not?"

"It's too much."

Merlin. It was the cost? He tried to imagine Miss Parkinson saying no. He couldn't. She wouldn't. She wouldn't care how much it cost him.

"Let me be the judge of what is too much or not, Miss Granger. It's a gift."

"Yes, but someone might think…"

"Are you all of the sudden planning on revealing to anyone what we do?"

"Well, put like that… No. You don't have to bribe me, Sir." Was that what he was trying to do? On the off chance she did know who her falcon visitor was this summer? No. He was returning her kindness. That was all.

He scoffed. "I'm not bribing you, Granger. It's a gift. Are you really that jaded? Or have I given you the impression that I am?"

"I just assumed," she shrugged. She'd assumed what? That he couldn't be kind? "You've never given me anything for my birthday before."

That was true. He had never spent three weeks with her consistently before either. He had no idea why he wanted to do this for her. He couldn't say thank you, not without revealing too much. This was his attempt at doing that.

She was silent, and he wasn't sure if he erred. He'd thought long and hard as to what to do as a way of saying thank you. Nothing else he'd come up with came close to being appropriate for a professor to give to a student.

Books. Well, he perused a muggle bookstore, but he truly had no idea what she'd like.

Clothing was ridiculous. He wouldn't know what to get her to begin with.

So, he'd gone another direction. Something he could teach her that would prove useful, that she would know he wouldn't teach anyone else.

"If you'd rather not…"

"No, I absolutely would like to learn."

"Well, then, let's get to it."

"Sure, and thank you, Sir. I apologize if I seem ungrateful."

"Not at all."

She beamed at him then, smiling brightly. "It's a lovely backpack."

"I thought it might appeal to you. And Happy Birthday, Miss Granger."

She blushed again then, looking at him as if he'd given her a million galleons. He didn't understand where that look was coming from. It was just a backpack.

"Thank you, Professor! And it really works like that? I will be able to store anything in it?"

"Yes. You've seen the tents at quidditch matches?"

"Oh, yes," she said with a nod. Anyone who knew anything was aware this witch wasn't overly fond of quidditch. She was friends with Harry Potter, though, who was a natural, as his father had been (as much as it pained Severus to admit that, it was the truth). He knew, too, that Sirius Black enjoyed taking in professional games with his godson. He presumed, evidently correctly, that Hermione had gone with at least one or twice.

"It's the same idea, just on a smaller scale."

"Obviously."

He held back a smirk. Of course it was obvious. To her.

"Yes, of course, I'm used to having to over explain."

"Yes, I get that."

"I know you do."

She seemed a little … aloof today. Come to think of it, she hadn't been as talkative since her return to Hogwarts this year. He didn't see evidence that she was fighting with Draco, Harry, or any of her friends or anything. She wasn't opening up to him, which wasn't necessarily bad. Women having problems was probably his least favorite head of house duty to deal with. He just wasn't cut out for such things. She got to work, though, clearly excited to learn something new.

When it was silent other than instructions, he broached the subject. He was used to her talking about this or that. Especially this close to summer break. He'd primarily remained at Hogwarts every summer, so never had any grand getaways to wax poetic about. The Grangers seemed to take time off from their practice to spend time with their daughter when she was home.

(She'd told him while he was under her care that he was lucky they were home to find him. They'd been away for a few days prior to his crash landing in their backyard.)

"Is everything all right?"

She nodded. No verbal response, and she wasn't looking at him. All unusual. She usually watched him like, well, a falcon.

"Your summer was okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Did you do anything?"

"Spent a few weeks with my parents in France and at our summer home near Canterbury."

He knew about Canterbury. He did not know about France. The few days prior to his crashing into their yard had been spent officially opening the summer home for the season. (Evidently her parents had gone before she got home to get it ready, but the long weekend made it officially summer.)

"Please tell me you did more than study," he drawled.

She shrugged. "I did a few things, yes."

"Good."

"And you?"

He shrugged. "More of the same. Prepare the classroom. Collect ingredients. Brew. Experiment."

"Sounds nice."

She didn't ask him what he brewed or what experiments he'd done. That was not like her at all. Normally she peppered him with questions. Not tiresome questions as she'd done in her first year, but ones that showed she wanted to know what he'd done and why. He knew she conversed with Minerva, Lupin, and Filius on such things, too. Perhaps he'd ask them if she seemed less interested this year.

"It was acceptable as summers go."

She looked at him finally. He saw her mind working. She got a look in those brown eyes of hers that always told him she was thinking.

"I suppose you had your share of unacceptable summers."

"You wouldn't be wrong."

"Was Madam Pomfrey here summers to assist you?"

"Sometimes."

She shook her head then, lowering her gaze, but not before he saw tears shimmering in them. What in the hell was that about?

"I'm glad she was when she could be."

"As was I."

He did not want to talk about the war or his role in it, so left her to her thoughts and her work on the backpack.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com