"Of course you do. You can't go stumbling in. And while you're there, you can tell Snape that my dad said that they might have found the book with the original curse," Ron said — grinning from ear to ear, earning to gasps from Hermione and Harry.

He looked at some linguistics sites online (he had learned that it was called sites) and was almost falling asleep in front of his laptop, sitting cosily, comfortably in front of his unlit fireplace, just perusing, his books next to him on the arms of the chair.

He had to be careful now, of course, not to run into her at University — who knew what kind of scene she would be making or whether she would be, heaven forbid, running around with Lucius Malfoy after all. But he still had his sort of radar and he would have to keep his eyes open and then he would be fine.

He had showered, even after he had first fallen into his chair. The smell of that bathrobe — he had still sort of smelt it. And her. And that, he didn't want to smell. He had been an utter prick and he knew it. He had been what he vowed never to be — he had used her in the most terrible way. He had used her body only. And he hadn't even paid any kind of attention to what she had wanted. What a difference to what he would have done with and for Lily all those years ago.

Still, in the end, he had done it. He had done what he thought was right and he would try never to see her again — for her sake. And for his health. Didn't know what a woman was capable of doing when she was...like this.

A pinging sound pulled him from his thoughts — a pinging sound his computer had made and he looked down at the screen and groaned.

Had Granger felt the need to bother him with an email again? He groaned again when he clicked on the little icon and read.

Snape,

Aideen wrote me and told me that I could come and see her. And Ron Weasley tells me to tell you that there might be the possibility that they have found the book with the original curse and that there is an small, tiny possibility that they can work on getting your magic back for you. I hope this is good news for you and I hope you don't mind if I tell you if there are any developments.

Best,

Granger.

Severus felt that he had his hand clapped in front of his mouth — but...he didn't know what he felt. He didn't really want his magic back.

64. Grimm's Law

A number of scholars realised that there was a missing link between the Germanic and the Romance languages. This was not a mysteriously lost language, but took the form of a phonetic mutation or sound-shift which affected certain consonants in their evolution from Indo-European to Germanic. One such shift involved Indo-European p subsequently Romance p, becoming German f. As one can deduce from simple experiment, the sounds are not actually so different in character, both being made by the air being expelled through the lips (technically called bilabial) [...] Once one recognises this sound shift, father and pater, fish and pisces turned out to be related, indeed the same word in different stages of phonetic development. [...]

Furthermore, the significance of the sound-shift was not a limited insight, but introduced the realisation that other, related consonants might also be invovled and affect a word's permutations over time. These are b and v, which are phonetically termed the voiced versions of p and f, since they are enunciated in the same basic fashion, but with the vibrations of the vocal chords also being employed. This wider family of related consonants links words which are by no means obviously cognate, as can be seen from the following list:

Modern English: soap / seven / bishop / devil / brother

Middle English: sope / sevene /bishope / devile / brother

Old English: sape / seofon / biscop /deofol / brothor

German: seife / sieben / bischof / teufel / bruder

Swedish: tvål / sju / biskop / djävul / broder

French: savon / sept / èvêque / diable / frère

Latin: sapo / septem / episcopus / diabolus / frater

Greek: sapon / hepta / episkopos / diabolos / phrater

Grimm's Law also affected the sounds represented by the letters g, k and h, which are phonetically termed velar, since they are enunciated by the use of the velum, a soft flap to the rear of the palate which, together with the tongue, can be used to stop or constrict passage of air.

(Hughes, 2000)

He resorted, of course, to old tricks. He hadn't emailed Granger back, had pushed it far back in his head, all the while making a mental note to certainly do write her back and tell her that she could keep things to herself and that she should, most definitely, annoy someone else but him, but at the same time, he resorted to his old tricks.

Despite everything that had happened with — that Deveney woman — there were still people, he knew, whom he could turn to. A trust greater than he ever had in anyone, a greater trust than he had ever felt was there — and all he had to do was...he smiled to himself as he changed, as early as possible the next morning (no classes, thankfully), into the old trousers and the old jumper. The first things he had bought when he had moved back to Spinner's End. His first own Muggle clothing. Not the rubbish he had got from his father. The stuff he had bought at ASDA. His things. A bit tight, he thought as he put the jeans on, around the waist.

Severus snorted quietly. Eleanor's meals had fattened him up a bit. Mind, he wasn't round but at least didn't look like starving death anymore. No, as he looked at himself in the mirror, pulling the jumper over his head, he noticed that he wasn't pallid anymore. He was still pale, yes, but not sallow, not unhealthy looking.

And certainly still nothing worth looking at. He shook his head at his mirror image and touched the bump at the back of his head with gentle fingers The bump which was about three days old and which he could still feel clearly.. Whatever that woman had seen in him, and what had resulted, at the very end, in the bump, he didn't know. He certainly couldn't see it.

Old tricks, he reminded himself. He had missed...

He rushed down the stairs and gathered his instruments from the cellar before he, impatiently, pushed the backdoor open and set to work. He would just...well, the grass needed to be cut and he thought that maybe, he could dig up some holes and plant some bulbs. Tulips, maybe. Even if it was a bit early in the year but she would know. She would tell him.

He dug and he cut the grass and it wasn't even five minutes, when he heard another door being opened and he forced himself not to look up too quickly.

"Severus," he heard and only then looked up — into the smiling face of Eleanor, a knowing smile and then saw the two steaming cups of tea she carried.

Wringing hands and apparating at the same time was, Hermione found out, impossible. She had to actually stop wringing her hands and wiping them on her jeans. She should have taken Ted but Ron and Harry had taken him to the Burrow already when she had received the email. When Aideen had asked her to come over. She hadn't hesitated for a second, had only thrown a cardi over her shoulders and only when she had stood on the doorstep, ready to apparate, something like nervousness had settled in her stomach. And that's when she had wrung her hands and had tried to wipe the sweat that had gathered in her palms on her jeans. There was no need to be nervous. It was Aideen. She hadn't spent more time with a female about her own age ever. She had never had a friend like Aideen. And now she was — nervous — to see her. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, feeling like the sweat was gathering even more and closed her eyes tightly to focus on her apparition. She knew the place, she knew where to go and she was still rather afraid of splinching herself.

Couldn't possibly put her finger on why she was so nervous. She knew Aideen well. But Aideen had kicked her out. No, well, Aideen had left but the effect had been the same. Aideen had not wanted her to be there and only after those few emails they had written, she had agreed. But was she forgiven for constantly putting her foot in her mouth? Was Aideen alright with her being a witch and with talking to a witch again?

She knew she shouldn't be thinking about this while apparating and the moment she landed, rather ungracefully, she first checked that all her limbs were there and everything else that usually was on her body or belonged to it. No, everything there, she thought, down to the wringing, sweaty hands.

There was no need to be nervous. She had all her body-parts, she was more or less prepared to watch what she was saying in front of Aideen and she would not convince her to go back to Draco. Well. No. She wouldn't. But...no, she wouldn't.

Almost timidly, Hermione rang the doorbell to the house Aideen lived with with her grandmother. She hadn't moved to Manchester after all, hadn't moved in with her former flatmates but had stayed with her grandmother. Next to Snape.

Snape...she had mentioned him rather often lately. Snape. What if...what if Aideen and Snape...Aideen was only a year younger than herself, only about twenty years younger than Snape and Snape acted younger than his...forty. And he...well, he looked rather handsomely ragged. Not quite as trying to look raggedly handsome as Sirius had looked, back then, but he just pulled it off. Leatherjacket and jeans and...

She had to get those thoughts out of her mind before that door was opened. And she had to, somehow, find out if Aideen and Snap were...something. Or if either one fancied the other. But she wouldn't make the mistake of just barging in and bombarding her with questions. No, she would just let her talk. Simple. Keep her trap shut for once in her life. Under any circumstances.

"Hi Hermione," the door was opened carefully and Aideen smiled at her.

"Hi," she replied, wiping her hands on her jeans again.

"Come in, come in. The neighbours, even though there aren't many, talk much. I think the less neighbours we have, the more they talk, actually. The newest one is that Severus and I are...something. Ridiculous," she laughed softly and Hermione tried not to let her eyes widen. Let Aideen talk. Just let her talk. "I mean Severus is lovely but he's like a big brother. And not my type. Do you know that? That much gossip? Gran said that's been the major topic in church. That's why I don't go. Well, I don't go anyway but...apparently, and according to Gran, some people believe that we're ready to get married to give 'the little one' a steady home. I think I would've noticed if I were preggo, right? Idiotic, those people. I told Severus but he just scowled. You know the way scowls? It doesn't help that he brings me to Uni every day but I can't...on my own. Yet, I mean. I don't want him to...anyway, I am talking a lot, aren't I?"

Hermione smirked. "It's quite alright. It's usually me that talks that much. Makes a change for once."

"Oh good. It's just...stuck here with Gran and I can't, won't, go anywhere else because...and I feel safe and Severus next door. I mean, he would rescue me and he protects me and Gran. Not that I expect anything to happen to me here and I know that...come through. Gran said we could have tea either in the kitchen or outside. Which?"

"Oh, outside, I think," Hermione was overwhelmed by the words per minute Aideen could produce. She was even worse than herself. Ah, not quite but close. But at least now it was clear that...her and Severus — nothing. That was...surprisingly, quite a relief.

And if they had tea outside, well, their garden bordered on Snape's garden, there was just the possibility that...and if Aideen was so comfortable talking — even though nothing hadn't been touched during her rant that would help the problem, Hermione would listen.

"You haven't been out in the past few days," she said gently, sipping her tea and he sipped his.

"No," he said between two of those sips, looking at her.

"Not your friend anymore then?"

"No."

"Oh, well. Pity," she shrugged her shoulders. "Are you alright though?"

"Yes," he nodded, then shook his head. "No, but not about that."

Eleanor looked at him and knew that there was something big coming. Severus was one of those people who needed hours and hours of encouragement and bribing and luring before he offered some kind of information. Any kind of information. Before he told her anything. And now, he said — on his own — that he wasn't alright? She could feel the lines being dug into her skin, she could feel her frown growing and she knew the concern was showing on her face.

Whether he had wanted her to be concerned, whether he knew that she would be, as soon as he admitted to not being alright, or whether he was truly unwell, she didn't know and didn't care. He admitted to being unwell, and that was the main thing. No, he wasn't alright — and that was the main thing.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and could hear that her voice had changed slightly and that she spoke quicker than usual.

He shook his head but focused on her eyes, focused on her for a brief moment before he put his nose into the tea cup.

"What happened, Severus? Was it that woman? What did she do?" she stepped on the stepladder which still stood on the small wall that separated her and him and she pulled herself to the other side, standing before him and grasping both his upper arms tightly. "Severus. Tell me."

"What would happen," he said very slowly, "if I had the possibility to get my magic back?"

Eleanor cupped his face in her hands and forced him to look at her again. "As long as I don't lose you...everything's fine. But how...?"

Aideen looked strangely at her after her rant and when she made the tea but Hermione didn't want to ask. Foot in mouth — no more. She just accepted that Aideen looked at her strangely and then shrugged to herself. Maybe she had a spot of ink on her cheek. Happened occasionally, especially since she had begun to write with Muggle fountain pens again and those, surprisingly, stained her fingers more than quills had done. Well, she was patient. She would let her talk. Ron had said that repeatedly. Ron had said that it was best to let the other begin their talk and lead the conversation. He had smirked at her then and had added: 'If you know how to do that.' Well, she could have been offended, but she hadn't been. It was true — after all.

When Aideen had pushed the tea cup in her hands, there had been another strange look and another shrug and Hermione was close to asking what she had on her face, because Aideen seemed to see something in her face which didn't belong there at all. Probably an ink stain but she wanted to do this right. She wanted Aideen to talk and she didn't want to seem snappy and asked, with the annoyance she was beginning to feel, what was wrong with her. But no. She was trying to do this right. No more snapping, no more good advice, just listening. As difficult as it was.