Obiter Dictum

15

Ginny ran into Hermione's arms soon as the door was open. Laden down with her bags, it took every ounce of effort so as to not topple over. "Hermione! It's been an age! How've you been?"

Giggling, the apprentice dropped her bags and held onto her friend tightly. "Oh, Gin, I've missed you too. It's been busy, I admit."

Taken a step back and shouldering one of the overnight bags, Ginny sighed. "You never write us anymore. Why is that? Too busy entertaining the Greasy Bat?"

Unsure of how to respond, the brightest witch of her age frowned. "A lot has happened since I arrived at his home. I'm not sure how much I'm permitted to divulge."

She was not certain her mentor would approve of her airing out the dirty laundry for the Weasleys to overhear. If she told Ginny, no doubt word would spread. She loved her friend dearly and would trust her with her life, though she was known to be a bit of a gossip. Just like her mother. She would have to be careful of what details she shared of her stay at Foxhole.

Ginny shrugged, leading the other witch inside. "I expected as much. He's always been on the secretive side. What's his home like? Is it big? Has he got a lab and all that? I suppose he must. Is he still as disagreeable as always? You can stay in my room, Harry and I have moved to 12 Grimmauld Place."

Hermione shook her head, smiling. Her friend had not change one bit. She welcomed the steadiness of that fact. At least some things in her life were the same. "His home is lovely, actually. A big, old farmhouse in Norfolk. It's called Foxhole House. I've my own furnished room and free-reign of the place. I spend most of my hours in the laboratory in the basement or in his study."

Setting down her bags in Ginny's room, the two sat on the bed. "What's he like? Harry says he's changed since the trial. I suppose facing your death changed your perception of things."

Gods, she hated talking about the war. A necessary evil to move forward, however. It was a valid question, the man had been terrible to them in the past and now she was living with him full time. It was only fair to wonder how she was faring beneath his thumb.

But the question irked her all the same. She knew it had not been the notion of death that had rattled the man. It had been the thought of leaving his children behind. Alone in the world, with no one but each other. Of orphaning his offspring.

And yet, there had been fear and doubt after she had saved him. She had seen it in his memories after Harry had defeated Voldemort and taken them to the pensieve. Snape had not been afraid of death. He had been afraid of living another day after the war.

No doubt he had whole heartedly believed Harry would win. And he would have never given up his memories if he had thought he was going to live.

No. Snape was all too comfortable with the idea of death. He had been too eager to lose his life to the cause on several occasions.

Waking up in hospital a week later must have shattered him.

Hermione swallowed thickly. "I suppose." She replied simply. She cleared her throat and smiled thinly. "He's sort of lovely, actually. In a harsh, rough-around-the-edges way. He's an excellent teacher. Always has been, though his methods were dubious when we were in school."

Ginny stared at her, mouth agape. "Lovely?" She repeated incredulously. "I don't believe a word of it. Who are you, what have you done with Hermione Granger? Lovely! I mean, really, Hermione. Has he brainwashed you? Are you under a spell?"

The older of the two rolled her eyes and stood, heading for the stairs. "Oh, you. I'm going to make my presence known now. Feel free to follow, or not."