Obiter Dictum

20

After countless hours brewing the same potion over and over until she was certain it was up to her mentor's standards, Hermione made her way up the basement staircase to clean up for supper and hide away in the den for the evening.

Since Miss Malfoy's first visit to Foxhole, the children had quickly learnt to keep quiet when she was around. The Madame did not approve of loud noises, nor did she tolerate messiness. The apprentice was certain she would not last the week.

The house was eerily silent, it appeared that perhaps the children had gone out with their aunt on one of her frequent walks. So much the better for them. Until Snape remarried, Phaedra was not welcome to stay at the house. He was adamant on that point. He would not have the woman in his home in any permanent manner until they were legally obligated to marry.

Ducking into the sitting room to set aside her finished potion for grading, Hermione caught sight of the man of house sitting in one of the armchairs. His face was hidden behind a book, one ankle crossed over the other, his socked feet resting against the hearth. The witch observed him a moment, appreciating his relaxed stance.

He turned a page. "Are you quite finished gawking, Miss Granger?"

Blushing, she let out a nervous laugh. "Not gawking, sir. Contemplating the calm. The house is unsettlingly quiet these days. I miss the ruckus."

The man in black set aside his book and waved her over. He looked up into her face as she stood before him, shuffling her feet nervously. "As do I," he replied honestly, a heavy sigh leaving him. "Rotten business this law, Miss Granger."

He reached out then, hooking his index on hers and drawing her hand close. His thumb brushed her knuckles lightly as his fingers curled around hers. "Tell me honestly," he murmured. "When are we losing you?"

Never. She wanted to say. Her heart squeezed painfully at the deception in his tone. He would have to find a new apprentice and start all over. Would the man ever know peace?

She shrugged, squeezing his fingers as she cast away her gaze. "I'm not sure," she replied. "I haven't really spoken to the Weasleys since I left."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement and released her hand. He stood, toe to toe with the young woman, and fashioned a thin, flat, velvet box from his coat pocket. He swallowed thickly, as if rethinking his actions for a moment, and held it out to her. "With all the hullabaloo at Christmas, we had not had the chance to offer you your gift. The children's idea, really, I merely helped make it a reality," he explained. "Something to remember us by."

Hermione offered him a timid smile, trembling fingers flicking open the latch and lifting the cover. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared down at a gold chain. A single preserved flower pressed into a clear pendant hung from the delicate jewellery. She fingered it lightly, her eyes shooting back up to her employer's. "Sir- I... I don't know what to say. It's so beautiful."

He touched the necklace gingerly, sliding his fingers beneath it. "May I?" He asked, gesturing toward her.

She turned quickly, pulling her wild mane over her shoulder and twisting it up onto the back of her head, freeing her neck. "Please," she breathed, at a loss for what else to say.

Something warm heated her chest and soothed her strained nerves as the pendant came to rest at her collarbone. She lifted her other hand to touch it, admiring the shine and the intricate little blue flower. His fingers brushed her nuque as he fastened the clasp. They lingered a moment longer than necessary, and trailed along her shoulders, where he pressed his palms. He squeezed her upper arms gently, and that warm breeze was back again. Madam Snape telling her to remember them forever.