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Chapter Text

September 1, 1992

“Snape, Aurora,” Professor McGonagall called. The Great Hall was silent for only a moment before harsh whispers started. The eleven-year-old looked at her father sitting at the high table; he gave the faintest of nods as she walked to the stool with the Sorting Hat.

They’d had a pep talk about this just last week. He’d warned her that life at Hogwarts might not be as fun as she had hoped because of his reputation. His double life meant he had to pretend to be the nastiest of people; he instilled fear in and out of the classroom, and he favored his house for more than just loyalty.

Her father had also warned her that he had to pretend to be the way he was for many other reasons, ones she was still too young to fully understand. Reasons that had him and her mother in such a state over the summer that they had considered sending her to Beauxbatons, or even Ilvermorny. She wasn’t sure who talked them out of it, but she wanted to thank them.

She clutched the stool with a white-knuckle grip and willed her heart rate to slow.

“Ah, now you are an interesting one,” the Sorting Hat said in her mind. “A Slytherin father and a Gryffindor mother. But it’s you we need to worry about now, isn’t it? So, let’s see, who are you more like? Oh! And there’s the answer, deep in your heart. You are so young, yet you know exactly what needs to be done. I see where you’ll be needed most.” And then out loud, it shouted with absolute certainty, “Gryffindor!”

The hat was removed from her head, and she glanced back at her father.  

Severus Snape gave a resigned nod and a hint of a smile, and was the first in the entire room, staff included, to applaud.

His clap was a demand, and instantly, the whole room was applauding alongside him

She made her way down the table, eyeing the few remaining students in hopes of finding the little red-haired girl whom she’d sat next to on the train. Ginny wasn’t looking at her. Then again, Aurora noted that pretty much everyone at the table was avoiding eye contact with her. Chewing her lip in a habit she’d learned from her mother, she looked around the rest of the hall, hoping for someone— anyone —to offer her a friendly smile.

Her eyes met another pair across the room, grey locking onto brown, and her heart sank.

Draco looked resigned, more so than even her dad. She could already feel him pulling away, prepared to ignore a lifelong friendship because she would be wearing red and gold instead of green and silver.

“Welcome to Gryffindor, Aurora,” a high, affected voice said. “And don’t worry about what anyone says, my friends and I will look after you. I’m sure they will, once they get here.”

Aurora turned and was startled by the person speaking.

“Wow,” a round-faced boy across from them said with wide eyes. “You two sort of look alike.”

“Maybe we’re related,” Aurora answered easily.

“I don’t think so, I’m Muggle-born,” said the wild-haired girl, raising her chin as if daring Aurora to comment on it.

Aurora shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything,” she said with a grin. She watched as a smile lit the features she shared with this young version of her mother, glad that she didn’t look too much like young Hermione Granger.

And so began what Aurora would come to understand as a complex life in the halls of Hogwarts.

—————H—————

June 9, 1994

“We’ve got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us. Before Dumbledore locks the doors,” Hermione warned Harry, and with that, they took off.

  Along the way, they had to dive into an alcove as Fudge and Professor Snape passed them by.

  “The Kiss will be performed immediately?” Professor Snape asked. Hermione noted that for all his desire to have Sirius in custody, he didn’t look very enthused about the Dementor’s Kiss.

Fudge continued to blather, and as they passed, Hermione swore that Professor Snape’s eyes met hers in the shadows. It had been like that since she’d arrived at Hogwarts: with every scathing remark and sneering insult, there was something like regret in his endless black eyes. Quiet apologies that she didn’t understand and no one else saw. She justified it with the fact that she was one of the few Gryffindors who was kind to Rory, though that didn’t explain first year.

When he and Fudge passed, they continued their route to the hospital wing. There was a moment of panic when Professor Dumbledore locked the doors, but when he turned and smiled, Hermione was sure it would be all right.

“Well?” he asked quietly.

“We did it!” Harry let out breathlessly. “Sirius has gone, on Buckbeak.…”

Dumbledore beamed, then flicked his wand. His Patronus came out of the tip and hovered in the air in front of him. “Events have occurred as they should, go to the safe house, he’ll meet you there.” The phoenix took off and Dumbledore turned back to them. “All is as it should be. Now, get inside, I’ll lock you in.”

Once inside, Hermione and Harry returned to their beds, allowing Madam Pomfrey to fuss over them and feed them chocolate, needed now more urgently than hours before.

“What do you mean, gone!” Fudge bellowed through the door, and Madam Pomfrey frowned.

“What do they think they’re doing?” she grumbled.

“I can assure you, Minister,” -Snape’s sneering grew louder- “if anyone knows what happened, it would be Potter.”

A moment later, the doors to the hospital wing flung open and an angry Cornelius Fudge followed a displeased Potions master.

The latter may have accused Harry of knowing something, but his eyes fell accusingly onto Hermione. She felt herself shrink into bed, absently holding the Time-Turner, careful not to jostle it.

“You’ve caused trouble in the past,” Fudge was saying to Harry. “I forgave that business with your aunt, and we knew there was something going on last summer. We know that Sirius Black is your godfather, boy, it would—”

“Cornelius, I think you’re forgetting a very important fact,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted, eyes twinkling. “The door was locked when we came in. From the outside, no less. How could he have helped Sirius Black if he was here under Madam Pomfrey’s care?”

Professor Snape snorted and the Minister frowned in confusion.

Hermione clutched the Time-Turner tighter.

“The Daily Prophet’s going to have a field day,” the Minister lamented, shaking his head. “We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers again ….”

Dumbledore placed a hand gently on Fudge’s shoulder and steered him toward the door. Hermione caught snippets of the conversation: Dementors removed from the school, maybe bringing in dragons instead.

“Do not think for one moment that I believe a locked door would stop you from aiding in Black’s escape,” Snape declared in a menacing tone. “And believe me,” –his eyes held Hermione’s while he faced Harry- “there will be an extensive conversation about this later.”

He turned in a swirl of black robes and followed Dumbledore and the Minister out the door. Madam Pomfrey shook her head, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth before she headed back to her office.

Harry got off his bed to sit beside Hermione. “Why do you think …?” he started, then trailed off. He looked at her hands, easing the Time-Turner out of her grip and examining it. Unlike before, she did not smack his hands away, letting him have a look at the device that helped save Sirius.

“Why do I think what?” she asked, looking at her lap.

There was another pause and a gentle whirring sound. “Why do you think Sirius was so … awestruck by you?”

Hermione chewed her lip, unsure, just as confused as she had been during her first interaction with Professor Lupin.

“Granger, Her … Hermione.” Professor Lupin was calling roll when he stumbled on her name, slowly looking up at Hermione with wide, misty eyes. His mouth opened and closed for a few moments as he struggled to say something. “I thought you looked familiar. Named for your mother, are you?”

Hermione frowned. “No, sir. My mother’s name is Helen.”

Lupin frowned as well, studying her more closely. “Adopted then?” She shook her head. He nodded once more, frowned, and continued calling roll.

Hermione heard Malfoy grumble something about her wishing she was adopted, causing a few snickers among the Slytherins, but she ignored it. Professor Lupin hadn’t asked her about her family or name again, though for the first couple of weeks, he looked wistful and heartbroken. Sometimes, when he would catch her in passing, heading back to Gryffindor Tower from the library without the boys, he would stop and look as though he wanted to say something. Hermione would stop and wait, but he would only bid her a good evening, afternoon, whatever time of day it happened to be, and continue on his way.

She’d nearly forgotten his strange behavior until they encountered Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack.

“Harry,” Hermione warned when he started taunting a murderer. A man who had their friend’s wand and was more powerful than the two of them combined, even if he was out of practice. “Be quiet.”

Black turned to look at her, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

“Kitten?” he whispered. “No, I’ve gone mad, alone in the dark all these years. Now I see… is it really Prongs? Am I hallucinating?” He glanced at Ron. “But if I’ve gone mad, why would I see Lily as a boy?”

The door opened then and Professor Lupin came in, taking in the scene before turning to Black.

“If I’ve truly lost my mind,” Black said, his voice much stronger, “then you would be a lot younger, Moony.”

“I know the truth, Sirius,” Professor Lupin said calmly. “I saw him on the map and then I Flooed”-he glanced at Hermione-”someone who would know. She confirmed.”

Black looked at her. “Then who—?”

They were interrupted by Professor Snape, who immediately moved to stand between them and the adults.

They argued between themselves about whether or not Sirius was the real reason Harry’s parents were killed. Professor Lupin begged Professor Snape to see reason, to put it all together like he had upon discovering Peter Pettigrew on the map. Professor Snape declared there wasn’t anything Black wouldn’t say or do to get his way, murder included. Sirius responded that he wasn’t the one who would do anything for something. Professor Lupin started to say something that Professor Snape cut off with a hiss, something about where hearts really lie.

Before Hermione could stop him, Harry pointed his wand at Snape and cast a Disarming Spell. Incidentally, so did Black. It threw Professor Snape against the wall, knocking him out.

The truth, in the end, was as Black had tried to explain. He was supposed to be the Secret Keeper, and had tried to convince the Potters to use someone else, someone who they all knew would not only keep them safe, but would be able to hide the information from anyone who tried to find it. In the end, they had chosen Peter because he was the least likely to come into contact with Death Eaters. But they had been wrong.

There was a binding spell, a conversation, Professor Snape rousing from his unconsciousness. They left the Shack and there was another argument between the men. This time it was about Black’s prison sentence, and whether or not he should be held in custody until they could get his name cleared. Professor Snape was adamant that they should take Sirius back and hold him while pleading his case to the Minister.

Then Professor Lupin stiffened and chaos ensued.

“I don’t know why he looked at me like that, Harry,” Hermione replied. “Why did Professor Lupin, and Pettigrew?”

“Snape never does.”

“ Professor Snape,” she corrected automatically. “And speaking of, if tonight taught you anything, Harry, it’s that you should be able to trust him.”

“Because he actually listened to reason?” Harry questioned with a snort.

“Because he stood between us and danger not once, but twice. He thought Sirius was a murderer as much as you did when he placed himself between us. And again, when Professor Lupin transformed. Had you not gone after Sirius ….”

“I know.”

“You don’t, though. You didn’t see the panic and fear in his eyes. He was harsh with us, yes, but justifiably.”

Harry said nothing and when she looked over, she noted the whirring she’d heard was the Time-Turner.

She snorted. “How far back are you planning on sending me?”

He grinned ruefully. “How far back can you go?”

“It’s only safe to go back a few hours. Wizards who meddle with time could destroy timelines. It helps that it can’t be activated on its own. And besides, I think I’m quite done with this thing. In fact,” -she gently took it from Harry’s hands- “I should see if Professor McGonagall will take it back before the end of term. If I miss classes, so be it.” She hopped off the bed and headed toward the doors. “I’ll only be a moment.”

Hermione held up the device as she exited the hospital wing, studying the golden gleam and the grains of magical sand. Such a beautiful little thing, though most dangerous things are.

She heard a warning yowl and only had enough time to glance down to see Mrs. Norris in front of her. She tripped over her own feet and the cat. As she moved forward, she felt one of her fingers catch on the Time-Turner, activating the very thing that Harry had been flicking and spinning for who knew how long.

“How far back can you go?”

Before the world completely faded, Hermione glimpsed Filch rounding the corner and wondered how he would explain this to the headmaster.

Chapter Text

The world sped past Hermione as she fell forward in slow motion. She hit the ground abruptly, her nose and forehead cracking on the stone floor, her elbow dislocating as it caught her weight, and her chest burned where the Time-Turner dug in. Her vision blurred and she had a hard time staying awake. There was no way she could pass out now, not knowing where or when she was. She was in denims and the only school paraphernalia on her body was her Gryffindor cardigan. She’d discarded her tie when she’d changed out of her skirt before dinner, and now she could be near a group of Slytherins.

“Oh dear,” she heard a startled gasp. Somewhat familiar, a woman, though not one she had frequent contact with. “How—”

“Help,” Hermione managed to croak, catching sight of two robe hems before she blacked out. It was oddly comforting that one of them was such an awfully bright shade of yellow.

—————H—————

She awoke in the hospital wing, confused and far sorer than she should be considering all she was being treated for was a run-in with dementors. Then she remembered Harry playing with the Time-Turner as he sat on her bed. Mrs. Norris. Falling.

Oh.

Oh.

She tried to sit up, but found her right arm in a sling and her fingers wrapped. She turned her head to the right, noting the sunlight streaming through the windows, then turned to the left.

Her heart leapt in her throat at the sight of Professor Dumbledore smiling warmly back at her.

“Hello,” he said softly. “We were beginning to wonder if you planned to wake up.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said automatically, her voice dry and cracking with disuse. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” Hermione attempted to sit up again, this time using her left arm. It was a struggle, but she managed to sit up. Now with her back against the headboard, she could see the top of the bedside table. It hadn’t occurred to her that her wand could have been lost or broken, but seeing it unharmed within her reach brought a sense of relief.

“I would ask how you came upon this particular Time-Turner.” Dumbledore caught her attention once more, and she turned toward him so quickly that a throb spread throughout her head. He was holding up the Time-Turner by the chain, showing the broken hourglass with no sand, a bit of red staining the jagged ends of what remained. “But I suspect I gave it to you.”

She cleared her throat. “What was special about it?”

Dumbledore set the Time-Turner on the table near him and poured her a cup of water.

After she’d taken a few sips, Dumbledore took a breath. “It’s special in that it is one of the few Time-Turners without limitations. It is thought to be one of the first of its kind and was used by a couple of wizards before it was deemed too dangerous. Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, especially when they cannot return to where they came from.” At this, Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses in a scolding manner.

She knew this. There was a reason she’d hidden from herself throughout the year, why she and Harry had waited to save Sirius. But having this affirmed to her moments after waking, speaking to a man whom she knew but who clearly did not recognize her, had tears springing to her eyes.

“There’s no possible way?” she sniffed. When Dumbledore shook his head, she let out a mirthless laugh. “Then I wonder how long I need to wait before I kill Harry for playing with it.”

“This was an accident?” Dumbledore asked, and she peeked to see his puzzled expression. She nodded and looked up at the ceiling. “I see,” he said solemnly.

“Sir?”

He tried to muster a smile, but it didn’t quite work. “You are from the future, obviously. These are dangerous times, young lady, and I had hoped … given your house, I had hoped you were sent back to provide us with some important information to use against Tom Riddle.”

“Tom—” she choked the name out in confusion before she remembered something Harry had mentioned. “You-Know-Who? ”

“Lord Voldemort, yes. I see that people still fear his name. And you cannot tell me anything?”

She frowned. “Should I? Isn’t it dangerous to share what I know, even with you? It’s not much anyway. I imagine most of what I know has already happened.”

“Why do you assume that?” Dumbledore asked.

“I … well, er.” Hermione looked around, trying to find something in the decor that would give her a clue about the time period. When nothing specific stood out, she looked at Dumbledore. “What’s the date?”

“It is July third.” When she continued to look at him expectantly, he added gently, “Nineteen seventy-four .”

Her breathing grew shallow and her stomach churned; she did her best to keep the tears at bay.

Twenty years. Harry bloody Potter flicked and spun the blasted Time-Turner so much she had gone back twenty years.

Twenty years. She’d know all the teachers, at least. All except ….

Professors Snape and Professor Lupin. They were only in their thirties, though precisely how old, she couldn’t quite recall. But they would most likely be students. With Sirius, because they all went to school together. As did ….

Harry’s parents.

At that thought, the dam broke. Not only did Hermione barely manage to turn her head to vomit on the floor instead of on her sheets, she started sobbing. She couldn’t meddle, she couldn’t. It was against the laws of nature. She could damage the timeline, wipe herself out, wipe Harry out. And then what would happen? Voldemort would rise to power because there would be no baby Harry for Lily Potter to protect and die for. No way for a curse to rebound if it was never cast.

“I can’t,” she choked out, sobbing as she leaned back against the bed. Her nose and head ached, but she couldn’t stop. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

She had to get control of herself. This was not her. She was a Gryffindor. She was Hermione Granger. She was prone to bouts of panic, yes, but not like this. But so many things could go wrong now. So many things ….

“Miss …?”

“Granger. Hermione Granger.”

She turned toward him, and he held out a vial. “Calming Draught,” he explained and with a nod, Hermione stopped herself from shuddering long enough to swallow it. “You’re in shock, and it is quite warranted, all things considered.” The scent of her sick disappeared from the air just as Hermione caught her breath. “Now, Miss Granger. How far back did you go?”

“Twenty years.”

He smiled calmly. “That’s quite the distance. I wish I could offer some kind words or assurances. But you know the outcome of the next twenty years and I do not. Nor, I think, do I want to. You know you cannot change what will happen, but you are a Gryffindor. We do try to fix all the wrongs we perceive.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“No, it won’t be,” Dumbledore agreed. “So, in the meantime, I must ask something of you.”

—————H—————

July 10, 1974

“Thank you for this, Bob,” Professor McGonagall said to her brother.

She was kind, kinder than Hermione had expected, considering that Professor McGonagall had no idea who she was. But after Dumbledore’s ultimatum, he had called in her Head of House and explained the situation.

Well, he’d explained after the professor had been coerced as the bonder for Hermione’s Unbreakable Vow. 

She wasn’t sure if it was perfectly legal for her to make one underage, and McGonagall was fairly certain it wasn’t, but Dumbledore had insisted.

It was that or a very strong Obliviate. Hermione had opted to keep her mind intact. After that was sorted, they’d organized a place for her to stay and falsified her records. Hermione would tell people that she had lost her parents in a magical accident but wouldn’t elaborate for fear of repercussions. She would claim they had moved abroad a year or two before she was eleven and had attended Ilvermorny.

“It’s no problem, Minnie,” Robert McGonagall Jr. assured his older sister with a gentle smile, reaching out and giving her arm a squeeze. “You know how happy this will make Delia, and we don’t need to know the details.”

“Hermione?” a soft voice with a delicate brogue pulled her attention away from the siblings.

Cordelia McGonagall was a thin, dainty woman too pretty for Hermione to process. Her clear blue eyes, porcelain skin, and flawless red hair made her resemble a china doll. It was especially jarring when compared to Bob, who shared the professor’s dark hair and grey eyes, his skin like tanned leather.

“I have your room ready upstairs.” She gestured, Hermione nodded and followed her up. “It’s a bit small, but I’m sure it’ll be cozy enough for you.” She opened the door, and Hermione peeked inside before entering.

There was a twin bed with a pastel-colored quilt and white sheets. There was an oak dresser and a small writing desk crammed against the far wall, the latter under the window overlooking the greenhouse and back garden. There was a small night table next to the bed.

“Minnie told us you lost everything, so I thought we could go to Hogsmeade tomorrow to get you a few things.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to,” Hermione protested, only to be waved off by Cordelia.

“We have a couple of nieces a bit older than you, who have some clothes they can give you, as well as some of their old schoolbooks. But there are some things a girl needs all her own.”

Hermione smiled, but her heart ached at the same time. Tears sprung to her eyes against her will as she recalled her mother taking her bra shopping just last summer. Despite being a dentist and an intellectual, Helen Granger still managed to blush and sputter when discussing undergarments with her daughter. Knickers had Dr. Granger claiming hot flashes instead of discomfort.

“Did I …?” Cordelia sobered, worry replacing embarrassment.

“No,” Hermione reassured. “You didn’t upset me, really, Mrs. McGonagall.”

Cordelia nodded and bowed her head, then they both heard the others coming up the stairs.

“Well, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, “if you’re settled, I’ll take my leave.”

“Thank you again, Professor.”

“It’s no trouble. And I’ll see you Sunday for dinner?” she asked, glancing at her brother. They agreed, and the adults left Hermione in her room.

Hermione moved to the window, taking in the back garden. It was so different from the one she’d looked at all her life. But then, it wasn’t as though she would ever go back to that life. She’d spent her days in the hospital wing crying for her losses: being separated from her parents and her friends, knowing it would be twenty years before she would see any of them again. She had to start anew. She’d nearly told Dumbledore to Obliviate her initial opinions of people but had thought better of it.

With a sigh and a heavy heart, Hermione opened the window and let in the fresh summer air of the Scottish countryside and allowed a few stray tears to escape before stepping away and heading downstairs.

—————A—————

November 2, 1992

Aurora did not like Hogwarts much. First, aside from her mother, Ginny Weasley, the Weasley twins, and Neville Longbottom, most Gryffindors avoided her. She heard whispers that everyone feared she’d rat them out to her father. Many hissed and wondered why she wasn’t in Slytherin where she “belonged.” And Draco….

When he shouted, “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” after Mrs. Norris’ was found Petrified , she wanted to smack him. How stupid could he be? Couldn’t he see that his Aunt H. was the same person he so willingly threw the derogatory name at? They hadn’t really been avoiding each other, but now she was purposely distancing herself from one of her oldest friends.

Well, one of her oldest friends aside from Harry Potter.

She’d grown up in the wizarding world, but her mother had sent her to primary school in Surrey. She’d been considered a little strange and knowing that none of the kids were magical made her feel like an outsider. She had a few girls her own age that thought her weirdness was cool, but she felt more like an accessory to them than a friend. In truth, sometimes she liked hanging around with the lonely boy. The boy who wore oversized clothes and no one approached because his cousin was an obnoxious and grotesque bully. She liked him, and they had a sort of friendship.

At least, they had until she came to Hogwarts and he learned who her father was. He wasn’t mean to her, but he kept his distance. And after Halloween….

“Miss Snape,” she heard her father’s voice behind her as she walked briskly to lunch. She paused and turned, and despite the sneer he constantly wore these days, there was a glint of worry in his eyes. “A word.”

She nodded once and followed him down to his office. Once inside, he moved to the Floo , called for lunch, and then headed for his desk. He turned one of the wooden chairs into a plush armchair similar to the ones they had at home.

“How are things, Rory? Better?”

Aurora shook her head.

“I thought not,” he sighed. “How many…?”

“Too many,” she mumbled. “Since Saturday, I’ve been accused of being the Heir of Slytherin too many times to count. Harry, well, he’s tried to reason it’s Draco, and Mu—Hermione says it’s not either of us. But…”

“You’re my daughter and therefore the ‘logical’ heir. Their stunted little brains can’t think past that.”

“Are you always this mean?” she grumbled as she shifted.

“Here? Yes. You know why that is. Things might change year after next, when your … when Miss Granger is gone, though I make no guarantees. Merlin knows the magical florists will be sad to see my business go when I no longer feel the need to send your mother an apology for every degrading comment or insult I throw at her younger self.”

Aurora giggled as their lunch popped up on his desk between them.

A smile flickered across his face as he took a cloth napkin and flicked it open, setting it on his lap. As her giggles subsided, he sobered and cleared his throat. “I want you to go to Aunt Minnie if anyone threatens you. Be extra cautious and try not to travel alone. I mean it, Rory.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Good. Now, it’s not much of a birthday meal, but this is the only time I had. So, tell me about your classes, and then we’ll have cake.”

—————H—————

August 9, 1974

“I’m sorry, you took how many courses last term?” Minerva demanded incredulously, setting her teacup and saucer down at Hermione’s declaration. Cordelia, or Delia as she insisted Hermione call her, giggled at her sister-in-law’s wide-eyed  expression before trying to hide her amusement behind her teacup.

Hermione blushed.

“All of them,” she repeated. “Though I dropped Divination, it was a load of codswallop. And while I’m sure there are witches and wizards capable of making accurate predictions, I’m certain the woman was a fraud.”

“Well,” Minerva sputtered, patting the bun at the nape of her neck. “You won’t be taking them all this year, I assure you.”

“Believe me, Professor . I have no desire to repeat the circumstances which allowed me to do so,” Hermione replied, watching Delia drop her gaze to her cup as she lowered it to her lap.

Over the time Hermione had spent with the McGonagalls, her Muggle heritage had become quite evident to them all. The McGonagall siblings were half-bloods as it were, and Delia was a Muggle-born from another village. She’d met Bob in school and when the time came to settle, the youngest McGonagall decided to settle in the very village where his parents had raised them. In a Muggle village Hermione had had no problem navigating or blending into.

She also had no problem blending in with the clan. While their father had passed, Mrs. McGonagall was still close by and frequently visited her youngest child and his wife for tea. She took a liking to Hermione and shared tales of her children and the ways their accidental magic caused humorous problems. Malcolm McGonagall’s children and wife were no less kind, though the youngest was older than Hermione and already out of school. The girls were thrilled to find a good home for their school uniforms and old clothes, their mother never allowing them to part with them for whatever reason. Hermione imagined it was in the hopes of a miracle for Delia and Bob.

“Good. Now, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Herbology, and History of Magic are core courses, but you should take another two. And only two,” Minerva emphasized sternly. “What should I put you down for?”

“Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.”

“Good. Delia said that you’ve been helping Bob in the gardens?”

Hermione nodded. “It started as something to pass time, but he insisted he pay me a small wage since I’m technically harvesting for apothecaries.”

“She’ll have top marks in Herbology, and the best quality potions kit in all of Hogwarts,” Delia mused. “Bob’s been setting some ingredients aside for her, so she has less to buy in Diagon Alley at the end of the month.”

“Keira still had all her texts, I trust?” Minerva asked.

“And what she didn’t have, Malcolm Jr. did. Though you can tell he took far less care of them,” Hermione replied.

“He was very Quidditch-driven,” Minerva said just as the clock chimed three o’clock. She sighed heavily, setting her cup down. “I have to get back to the castle. Much needs to be done in preparation for the school year, and I’m afraid Albus will start to wonder where I’ve been going so frequently.”

“If you must, Minnie,” Delia said as she and Hermione set aside their tea and stood. The redhead embraced her sister-in-law. “We’ll see you Sunday.”

“Certainly,” Minerva assured, stepping back before embracing Hermione. “Let me know if there is anything else you need for the school year, and I’ll make sure the shopkeeps in Diagon Alley have them ready for you to pick up.”

“Oh, you don’t have—” Hermione began to protest as Minerva placed a finger on her lips to silence her.

“Family look out for one another,” she scolded with a smile. “And if there is one thing you have become over this month, it’s family. I will see you at dinner.” And with a wink, Minerva left.

“You should probably know she appears quite stern at school,” Delia commented after Minerva departed. “All our nephews and nieces have said so. They thought, especially if they ended up in Gryffindor, that she would favor them over others. She was stricter with them than anyone else.”

Hermione’s lips quirked as she remembered the Professor McGonagall of her time. Strict indeed, but she would never forget the tight embrace the older witch had given her when she was cured from her Petrified state.

“I imagine so.”

“Well, enough of all this school talk.” Delia waved her hand as if she could clear the conversation with the gesture. “Why don’t you help me with the washing up while we talk about Jane Eyre ? I finished the book last night, just couldn’t put it down!”

It wasn’t home, but with the McGonagalls, she was beginning to think it was the closest she would ever get to the feeling again.

September 1, 1974

“And you’re sure you have everything?” Delia asked Hermione for the half-dozenth time since Flooing into the Leaky Cauldron.

Bob sighed and made a show of rolling his eyes. “Delia, I’m sure that even if she didn’t, we’d be able to get it to her.”

“I know.” Delia sniffled, and she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief as they made their way to platform nine and three-quarters . “Just, well, I never thought we’d be doing this, you know?” she muttered, a watery smile on her face.

“Hold it together a bit longer, dear,” Bob said, placing a gentle hand on her back. He then nodded to Hermione, who nodded back. She turned to the wall and took off at a run, cart first. She lost her breath in awe as she passed through the barrier and emerged in front of the Hogwarts Express. Immediately, one of the men working the platform collected her cart to load her trunk into the cargo hold.

It felt strange not having a familiar with her. Crookshanks hadn’t been in her life for very long, but there was still an empty spot in her heart where the half-Kneazle  had been. She wondered from time to time what would happen to him but seeing as how he had a mind of his own and a thing for Sirius, she assumed he’d find his own lot in life (again).

So, this year, instead of clutching a cat carrier, she held her bookbag.

“All right,” Delia’s voice hitched behind her. Hermione turned to see the couple who took her in, gave her a home, and treated her as their own looking quite forlornly at her. “Give our love to Minnie, when you can. And … and it’s been quite fantastic having you stay with us, Hermione.”

She furrowed her brow. “Oh,” she gasped, her heart heavy. “I thought … well, I mean … it sounds as though this is more than seeing me off to school. Are you … is this goodbye, then?”

Delia and Bob looked at one another in surprise. “Not if you don’t want it to be,” Bob answered slowly. “We assumed, once you found a friend or two, that you would try to spend your time away from Hogwarts with them.”

A lump formed in Hermione’s throat. “Oh.” She was at a loss for words. Instead, she launched herself at them and hugged them tightly. “I promise to write. And I’m sure if I’m not back for Christmas it’s because—”

“Min,” Bob said, pressing his hand into Hermione’s back just above where Delia’s rested. “We understand. Know that you are more than welcome to leave with her whenever you can for a family function. It’s only been a short time, but we think … well—”

“We think of you as a McGonagall,” Delia finished for him. “If not a daughter, then a very beloved and favorite niece.”

Unable to find words, Hermione merely nodded.

“Now, go on,” Delia encouraged as firmly as she could while sniffling. “Always easier to find an empty compartment and let people come sit with you than to find one and have to introduce yourself.”

“You’re right.” She willed herself to step away from the McGonagalls, walking backward and waving until it was too hectic for her to continue, then quickly boarded the train.

She moved past a few compartments with people in them until she found an empty one. She sat close to the window, gazing out at the students bidding farewell to their parents. It was such a stark contrast when compared to her departure the year before. Everyone had been worried about a murderer on the loose. What’s more, even the clothing indicated a difference in decade. Robes were the main fashion, of course, but even the cuts and colors were more psychedelic than they had been when Hermione left for her third year.

And she had been different. She had parted ways with her parents in new Muggle clothes and had been secretly smug about taking all available classes and felt she was above her friends because she had already read through the textbooks. She’d been so certain they would have no trouble that year, because while Sirius Black was on the loose, there was no way any danger could come to Hogwarts.

Now, she sat alone in her hand-me-down uniform, her second-hand robes folded neatly beside her as she read through the battered fourth-year Charms  book for the first time. She made a vow to herself to not draw attention to herself like she had before. She would not be the Muggle-born know-it-all, insufferable or otherwise. At minimum, she would pretend to be a half-blood. She would not try to prove she was worthy of her magical education; she would simply receive it.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before the compartment door opened and the sound of a girl chatting broke through the silence.

“And so, I told Tuney that she was being absolutely ridiculous, but she just turned up her nose at me and said—oh! Sorry, er.”

Hermione looked up into familiar green eyes and did her best to keep her face neutral as her heart twisted. She hadn’t even arrived at Hogwarts and already the thing she feared the most was happening.

“Do you mind if we join you?”

“Go ahead,” Hermione replied, catching a glimpse of dark hair behind her. She returned to her book, not wishing to disturb their conversation.

“I … I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re wearing my house colors and I don’t recognize you. And you’re not a first year. I mean, you wouldn’t have been sorted by now if you were. So, er, do you mind … I mean, my name’s Lily. Lily Evans. I’m in fourth year.”

Hermione looked up at the earnest redhead and couldn’t help but smile a little. “I’m a fourth year, too. Hermione Granger.”

“Hi!” Lily said again, and then as if she’d forgotten, she turned to the boy beside her. “This is Sev. He’s a fourth year too, but he’s in a different house.”

It only took one look at the boy for Hermione to see that she should have known precisely who he was the moment they entered the car. His nose was a bit bigger than she remembered, and his hair a bit longer, but it still had that lank, greasy look to it. And his eyes. If none of the other factors were obvious, his eyes were a dead giveaway.

He sent a dark scowl at Lily, then turned to Hermione with his chin raised slightly. “Severus Snape,” he said, his voice not yet the deep baritone she was familiar with, but certainly deeper than Ron’s or Harry’s had been.

“Pleasure,” she said, hoping that she hadn’t incurred his disdain in this decade already.

She noted that his eyes scanned over her and her belongings, though it was done with as much subtlety as a fourteen-year-old boy could muster. He did so while Lily spoke, obviously using Hermione’s perceived eye contact as a distraction.

“So how are you a fourth year and I’ve never seen you? You didn’t get resorted or bumped ahead, did you? Well, not like you look like you could have been bumped ahead, but….”

“I’m a transfer student from Ilvermorny,” she told them. “I was sorted when the Ministry  brought me to Hogwarts to register me.”

Severus frowned. “The Ministry?”

Hermione nodded. “I lost my parents in an accident. I was orphaned,” she explained, swallowing the lump that formed each time she said the ‘o’ word.

“And Ilvermorny is … where?” Lily asked.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Massachusetts.”

“In the States ?” Lily shrieked with wide-eyed amazement.

“So how did you end up here?” Severus asked, eyes narrowed.

“We were there for my parents’ work,” she lied, and she found she couldn’t maintain eye contact as she did so. She ran her finger along her Charms book. “They were finishing up a four-year project abroad. I came with them and we were exploring Diagon Alley when something … happened.”

“What?” Lily asked as if it was the end of a long, breath-taking story.

Hermione shook her head.

“You can’t tell us,” Severus stated, and Hermione shook her head with a sad smile.

“Why not?” Lily pouted.

The train jolted as it began to move, and Lily scrambled over Severus to the window. She stuck her head out and yelled out farewells while waving her arm. She did that until the station was well away from view, and Hermione felt as awkward and uncomfortable as Severus looked.

Lily let out a puff of air, smiling serenely before turning back and looking between the two. “What were we talking about? Oh, right, so you went to school in the States. A magical school in the States, how unbelievably wicked is that. So, do they have houses there, too? Are their rivals? Which one were you in?”

“Er,” Hermione stalled, curling her legs beneath her on the seat. “There are houses, of course. And rivalries, I mean. Quidditch, right? And, er, I was in … the Horned Serpent.”

Severus snorted, and Lily shot him a glare before smiling at Hermione. “Well, I think it’s very interesting that you were in an entirely different magical school. There can’t be that many of them, can there?”

“Well, there are three in Europe,” Severus mumbled.

“About five in North America,” Hermione added thoughtfully.

“Two in China.”

“Actually, I think there are about six in Asia altogether.”

“And let’s not forget that there are probably half a dozen in Africa and South America.”

“All right!” Lily shouted, stopping them. “Geez, and I thought Sev was bad for knowing everything.”

Severus blushed and looked at the wall, and Hermione ducked her head to hide the grin threatening to erupt. Ha! Who’s an insufferable know-it-all now, Snape!

“Well, I think you’re going to love it,” Lily continued. “Because no matter how many magical schools there are in the world, Hogwarts is obviously the best.”

“Except for the school song,” Severus mumbled.

“Hoggy-hoggy-Hogwarts,” Hermione sang under her breath. When all that did was make Severus smirk, but Lily looked upset, she sighed. “I’m sure that I will feel more at home at Hogwarts than anywhere else.”

“Of course you will. And you’ll be with me, in my dorm. I can introduce you to Alice and Marlene. It’ll be nice to have another Gryffindor girl in our year.”

There was something about that statement that made Severus shift nervously.

Before Hermione could begin to wonder why, the door to their car slid open, and she turned to see the spitting image of her best friend.

Chapter Text

September 1, 1974 (continued)

“Hey, Evans.” The boy who could only be James Potter leaned against the door frame and smiled a smarmy grin that Hermione had only ever seen on Cormac McLaggen and Draco Malfoy. Such a display on that face instantly disconnected James from her Harry. Harry, who was somewhat shy and didn’t want to draw attention to himself, would never look at a girl the way James looked at Lily: as if she were a conquest.

Knowing the future as she did, Hermione expected only one response from Lily.

She was terribly surprised to see the opposite.

“Go away, James,” she replied immediately in genuine exasperation. “I was looking forward to a peaceful train ride.”

“So why are you in here with Snivellus?” a handsome dark-haired boy asked with a chuckle, causing a short pudgy blond  boy to laugh.

“That’s awful,” Hermione said, glaring at the group of boys.

It drew their attention to her for the first time. The dark-haired boy, who was truly a bit too handsome, smiled broadly as he slowly looked her over. “Well, well, well. Who do we have here? I haven’t seen you around the common room before. What’s your name, Kitten?”

“Kitten?” Sirius Black had whispered upon seeing her in the Shack. “No, I’ve gone mad, alone in the dark for all these years.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped, not only at the audacity, but at the fact that Azkaban had changed Sirius so much.

“She’s Hermione,” Lily said, much to Hermione’s displeasure. “She’s a transfer student.”

“Well,” Sirius said as he slid into the car and sidled up beside Hermione. He draped his arm over the back of the seat and grinned with obnoxious self-confidence. “It’s great to see you were sorted into the best house of Hogwarts. But what Evans can’t accept is that one should never hang around with snakes. Those are the Slytherins, by the way, and they always go dark. Bit obsessed with the Dark Arts, really. That’s what Snivellus over there is.”

There were chuckles from the boys who didn’t notice the way Hermione’s hair started to crackle as she raised  her chin. “I, for one, know that not all Gryffindors are good,” she spat, fighting the urge to look at the chubby blond she guessed was Peter Pettigrew. “It’s said that Merlin himself was a Slytherin, so tell me how your logic works? And quite honestly, in the very short time I’ve been on this train, I have found his company far superior to yours and he’s barely spoken.”

“Maybe that’s why you think his company is superior,” James commented.

“Perhaps. At least he hasn’t opened his mouth and revealed himself to be a pompous arrogant moron who honestly believes the color of his dormitory bed sheets makes him better.”

“Actually, I believe that’s demonstrated by the new robes and clean hair,” James retorted.

“My robes are second-hand. And if you think your hair is considered ‘clean’ with the amount of products in it, then we certainly need to find you a dictionary. Maybe that will also help in our next conversation. By then, I’m sure you’ll understand big words and understand that the ones I would use to describe you in this moment are not very flattering.” She then turned to Sirius. “Kindly extract yourself from my personal space, you were neither invited nor wanted.”

Sirius lifted his hands in surrender, standing and backing away toward a scowling James and Peter. “All right, but don’t be surprised if in a week or two you find yourself changing your mind. I have a way with people like that.”

“I doubt that,” Hermione sneered.

Sirius merely chuckled as he turned, gesturing for the rest of them to follow. James glared at Severus before turning away. Just before the door closed behind them, Severus flinched and hissed through his teeth.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, trying to quiet her thoughts screaming that this was not at all the story Professor Lupin had painted for Harry about his parents.

“Nothing,” Severus scowled, tucking his left hand in his sleeve.

“Did he hex you?” Lily asked, yanking at Severus’ hand.

There was a small welt forming just below the first knuckle of his thumb.

“Of course he did,” Severus gritted out. “Do you really think they would just pop in for a chat and leave without trying something?”

Hermione glared at the door before reaching for her backpack and digging through it. Once she found the burn salve Delia insisted she carry, she chucked it to Severus without a word. He caught it with his good hand, frowning at the jar before looking at her with suspicion.

“It’s just something to heal it,” she said with a shrug.

“I didn’t ask for it,” Severus growled, tossing it back to her.

Hermione caught it and rolled her eyes. “I’m aware you didn’t, but I thought it would be useful,” she retorted before chucking it back with a bit more force.

“I don’t need your help,” he snapped as he tossed it back. It collided with the back of the seat but didn’t break or spill.

“Fine,” Hermione huffed, taking the jar and stuffing it back in the bag. “Enjoy the discomfort for the next couple hours.” She grabbed her Charms book and opened it pointedly.

She was aware that Lily and Severus were conversing, but she didn’t hear a word of it.

Instead, she mulled over what she had witnessed.

She could believe that Sirius had been like this all along. But James? She simply couldn’t understand how Harry’s parents were married and in love if this was how they interacted heading into their fourth year at Hogwarts. She did the math in her head: they died at about twenty-one, and Harry had been just over a year old. Lily would have been pregnant at nineteen, meaning that, if she was turning fifteen, she’d have to have changed her mind about James Potter enough in four years to conceive with him. Unless, of course, it was more a marriage of honor. Hermione knew enough about sex and relationships to know they didn’t always coincide with one another. She had a cousin who was a product of a one-night mishap, and his parents were together only to raise him as a unit. But she just couldn’t help but remember the pictures she’d seen of them. They looked happy and in love. Maybe it was an act, maybe….

“Do you find Charms that difficult? Is the material more advanced than you expected?” Severus’ jeering tone brought Hermione out of her reverie , and she turned to him in surprise.

“What? No, not that. My mind wandered.”

“A daydreamer, then? Typical more of Hufflepuffs than Gryffindors.”

Hermione snorted, wanting to comment on the daydreaming numpties in her own house, but she felt her throat closing before the words escaped. “Wasn’t daydreaming,” she managed to say, though her voice was a bit raspy. “Just … amazed by first impressions, is all.” She looked at him. “Why do they dislike you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do mind,” he grumbled. “But since Lily scolded me for not being nicer to you … I have no idea. Because I exist? Because I’m Slytherin? The reasons are endless.”

Hermione took in this thin lanky boy with bad hair and a bad disposition. “The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin but wasn’t sure it was a good fit.” She offered a truth not even her two best friends had known. “It considered Ravenclaw as well but thought I would never reach my true potential there. Gryffindor was the only place left. So, really, disliking someone simply for their house is ridiculous, as some people shouldn’t or wouldn’t fit in any other than the one they were placed in.” She glanced at the door and frowned. “And if they dislike you simply for existing, well, it’s hardly like their presence is going to make the wizarding world a better place.”

He gave the barest of smiles, a tiny quirk of the lips, but she knew he knew she’d seen it. So, she smiled back, and decided then and there that if James Potter was an arse of the biggest kind, then maybe Severus Snape wasn’t the man she thought he was.

September 3, 1974

It took a full day of classes for Hermione to notice one thing about Lily Evans: she was a bit of a flake. It wasn’t that she wasn’t smart, Lily was quite good in Charms and Transfiguration, and had a decent, comprehensive knowledge of Astronomy. But the moment they arrived at the school, Lily had taken off with the girls of their year without so much as a ‘see you later’ for Severus. Hermione had offered him a smile and a wave, but he hadn’t returned it. His eyes had been on Lily, sad and disappointed but not at all surprised.

She thought that maybe it was the rush of being back at school and seeing the friends she hadn’t spoken to all summer, but while Lily let Severus wait for her and walk her to class, she was quick to sit beside and partner up with either Alice or Marlene. Both were nice enough, Hermione supposed, but far too interested in boys and beauty for her taste.

She’d sat next to Severus when it was clear no one else was going to, not even his own housemates. He’d sneered at first, especially for the first two classes. But when Lily left them for Divination and the two had Ancient Runes together, he seemed to understand that she sat with him because he was an ally of sorts. She didn’t really know anyone else, and the other options were far less than palatable.

Therefore, it wasn’t at all surprising that as the three of them walked into Potions the following morning, Lily went to join the other girls. Hermione stayed with Severus as he made his way to the back bench. She frowned as Alice went with Frank Longbottom, leaving Marlene with Lily.

“Has Lily partnered with you before?” Hermione asked as she noted that there was an even amount of Slytherins.

“Only in first year,” Severus replied. “I’ve worked by myself the last two years.”

She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, Severus, I wouldn’t—” The grip on her heart prevented her from saying the rest of the sentence. I wouldn’t dream of disrupting you in your subject.

He frowned, noticing her abrupt and obviously unintentional stop, but wasn’t able to comment on it because the professor walked in.

Professor Slughorn was like day to Professor Snape’s night: short, fat, and utterly ridiculous. Hermione could only shake her head in disbelief.

“Good morning, good morning. How have you all been? How was your summer? I hope it was all quite well. I thought perhaps we could start with a simple practical, ensure you all haven’t forgotten how to brew a basic hair-raising potion?” He smiled jovially, twitching his elbow toward a nearby Slytherin as if giving a ribbing.

“He’s not at all what I expected,” Hermione commented as she and Severus pulled out their kits before moving to retrieve their cauldrons.

“And what were you expecting?” Severus asked.

“Intimidating. Tall and much more … looming. I expected presence, magnetism.”

“Your previous Potions master, I expect?” he queried as he got his cauldron.

Hermione stretched on her toes, her fingers grazing the rim of her cauldron but not quite grasping it. It shouldn’t have surprised her when Severus reached up and grabbed hers as well, handing it to her, but it did. He didn’t smile when she thanked him, he merely nodded, but it was another un-Snape-like gesture that reminded her that he had yet to become the man she had known.

“Yes,” she finally managed to say. “My last Potions professor was exactly that.”

“Oh,” Professor Slughorn said behind her, and before she could turn, she felt his arm drape around her. Hermione grimaced, turning away from him as much as she could while he held her. “And you must be Miss Granger. I was told in the staff meeting to expect you. I was actually surprised when Albus did not have you sorted with the first years.” She kept quiet, feeling everyone’s eyes on her as Professor Slughorn kept her beside him. He was the first teacher to draw attention to her. “Tell me, you wouldn’t happen to be a relative of potioneer Hector Dagworth-Granger?”

Her immediate instinct was to tell the truth, but as she glanced around to see the Slytherins eyeing them with interest, as well as a few Gryffindors, she murmured, “Distantly, I believe.”

“Splendid, splendid. You should give our young Mr. Snape a challenge, then, with potioneers in your family tree.” He finally let her go, and Hermione all but ran back to their work station.

“I imagine there are potioneers in many families,” she mumbled when Severus joined her.

“None quite of that caliber,” he retorted as they opened their potions kit. His eyes immediately fell on Hermione’s ingredients. “And I’m sure not all families have resources like that.”

Hermione looked between him and the kit before she understood what he was saying. Her ingredients would have cost a fortune this fresh from an apothecary. No student, save those from affluent families, would have a kit like this. “One of my guardians is a Herbologist. He let me take what I needed for my kit, so I didn’t spend my money unnecessarily.”

Severus’ cheeks reddened, and he immediately turned away and focused entirely too hard on his potion and taking notes in the margin of his textbook.

After about halfway through brewing, she felt his gaze dart to her while waiting for the next step. She peeked at him, but he immediately averted his eyes and tried to appear nonchalant.

“All right. Let’s bottle those potions and bring them to the front of the room,” Professor Slughorn called out at the end of the first hour. “And now that I’m sure you are all awake, we will discuss what to expect this upcoming year, and go over some of the properties of Draught of the Living Dead .”

Hermione had already decanted her potion, as had Severus, and before she could move, he took her vial and took it up to the front of the room with his own.

When he returned, she nodded in thanks and he nodded once in acknowledgment. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how his shoulders weren’t so tense anymore.

September 21, 1974

Dear Delia, 

First and foremost, I’m sorry for taking so long to write. It was never my intention to wait this long. I spent the first week adjusting to how different things are compared to what I’m used to. While many of the professors are extremely similar to my previous professors, some are vastly different. Professor Slughorn, for instance, is quite lax compared to my previous Potions instructor. Thankfully, my lab partner, Severus, is as studious as I am and has no interest in slacking.

I met him on the train, along with our mutual friend Lily. We’re civil and I may even go so far as to say we are kind to one another, but it’s quite obvious that the only reason he even bothers to hang out with me is because of Lily.

She and I are in Gryffindor together, and that’s why she’s the person I’m closest to at the moment. Though, if I’m honest, I don’t feel a true connection with her. Lily is outgoing and vivacious and draws people to her like a moth to flame. She’s friends with all the girls in our year, and while I do find Alice Diggory to be tolerable, Marlene McKinnon leaves much to be desired. There was a girl in my dorm at my previous school who I thought was the most vapid and self-obsessed girl who ever lived. Marlene could easily have been this girl’s inspiration.

All that to say, I don’t care much for most students in my year and house. The boys, with the exception of Frank Longbottom and Remus Lupin, are horrid. The former seems content enough to keep to himself until he can socialize with those in other houses, the latter … he needs to find new friends.

I haven’t told Minerva this, since I’m sure it wouldn’t make a difference. If the glares she sends them are any indication, she shares my opinions anyway.

I wish I could give you a reason for not writing the other two weeks. I’ve had a difficult time, and I’ve been so caught up in my studies and adjusting to life away from the village and Bob’s greenhouse that I lost track of time. I’m sorry. I promise to write more often and won’t wait until Halloween to give you an update.

Hope the warm weather has reached your neck of Scotland.

Yours,

Hermione

She finished the letter in her quiet dormitory before heading up to the Owlery. The weather really was quite fantastic for late September, it was a nice walk to drop off her letter.

It was Saturday, so most of the students were sprawled around the grounds, soaking up what may be the last of the warm sunshine before autumn set in. Her journey through the castle, then, was mostly devoid of people. She passed a first-year Ravenclaw on her way up the stairs to the tower, but that was it.

Until she got to the Owlery and discovered Severus sitting on a ledge that looked relatively clean. He was looking out one of the arrow loops, eyes cast to the ground below.

“Come hang around the owls often?” she teased as she entered the room, looking for a school owl she could send her post with.

“No,” Severus said simply. After an owl fluttered down to Hermione and offered its leg, he added, “Lily said you would be up here.”

“You were looking for me?” She frowned, glancing quickly at him over her shoulder while she tied her letter to the owl’s leg.

Severus snorted. “No, not really.” She turned toward him as the owl took off through another window. He scuffed his foot against the stone floor, avoiding her eyes. “I thought maybe you’d join her after you sent your letter. And that she might leave the others to spend some time with you.”

“Alice and the Harpy?” Hermione snorted as she went to lean on the wall beside him. She crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t hold your breath for that, I heard the Harpy was quite excited to spend the day charming each other’s nails while gossiping about the idiot boys in our house. Fourth year and above only, of course.”

“And you aren’t down there because?” he asked without making eye contact.

“Do I strike you as someone who would engage in such inane conversation?”

“Your hair could benefit from their attention,” he retorted, and she gaped at him in indignation.

“And yours is the epitome of perfection,” she shot back. He stiffened and his jaw clenched, but he said nothing. “Regardless, I have no intention of joining them. I’m heading to the library to work on my Charms homework.”

“That’s funny,” Sirius’ voice came from the doorway, and Severus was instantly on his feet, facing the four newcomers with his wand out. “We thought we’d do the same thing.”

“What do you want, Sirius?” Hermione sighed.

“Why, something to practice on, Kitten,” he gloated.

“You were going to come up here to charm owls?”

Sirius, James, and Peter laughed, not moving from the doorway. “Hardly,” Sirius taunted, and before either she or Severus could react, he pointed his wand at Severus and said, “Engorgio .”

Severus’ already large nose began to grow.

As all the Gryffindor boys began to chuckle, Hermione withdrew her wand … and hesitated. Magic in the halls was strictly forbidden. Except, well, this wasn’t really a hallway, was it? And besides, it was four against one. Against two.

Before she could second-guess herself, Hermione whispered, “Slugulus Eructo!”

She doubted the boys heard or saw her cast it, but when Sirius was jostled by the impact, they stopped laughing and looked at one another in confusion. A moment later, Sirius turned sallow and green before doubling over and retching heavily. The amount of slugs that poured from his mouth and over James’ shoes was almost enough for Hermione to join in.

“What the hell, Granger?” James grimaced.

“I don’t need your help,” Severus snapped while clutching his nose.

“Maybe he just needs to be a bit ug—” Sirius started to say before forcefully vomiting again. He coughed, sputtered, and rasped out something.

The moment Hermione saw him raise his wand, she bumped a stubborn Severus out of the way. It did, however, result in her getting hit with whatever Sirius had cast.

She felt her front teeth, already bigger than she’d like, growing. The sensation was uncomfortable as it was but feeling them move along her chin was quite disconcerting. And upsetting.

“Ha! Nice one, Padfoot,” James said, giving Sirius a hardy pat on the back.

She glimpsed through the tears in her eyes that the pat caused Sirius to spew more slugs.

Severus flicked his wand and all of James’ hair slid off his head and fell into the pile of slugs at his feet.

He patted his head, and Hermione couldn’t help but snicker at the panic and desperation on his face.

That didn’t stop him from flicking his wand, making Severus’ legs collapse under him, his foot connecting with Hermione’s and taking her down with him. Her long teeth smacked against the stone, making her see spots as pain filled her skull.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” Professor McGonagall demanded.

“We were just up here to send off some post,” James said quickly.

“Yes, I see the post you intended to send,” she responded sharply. “As well as two students on the floor with some … enhancements.”

Severus snorted, and when Hermione shifted her gaze, his eyes met hers. “I see no difference.”

“Neither do I,” she hissed, the pain in her mouth and skull superseding his harsh commentary. His lips curled as he sneered, then he grimaced and held his nose again.

“Okay, Miss Granger, Mister Snape, Mister Black, hospital wing. Mister Potter, well, your hair will grow back.” Professor McGonagall stood sternly at the door, gesturing for Hermione and Severus to get off the floor and do as instructed.

“You’ll pay for this,” James threatened under his breath as they passed. Neither Hermione nor Severus acknowledged him.

—————H—————

“What were you thinking, Sev?” Lily scolded as he lay in the hospital bed next to Hermione’s. He was staring at his hands on the blankets. “It’s one thing that you always get into it with them, but dragging Hermione into it with you? I asked you to find her and talk to her, not to—”

“Talk to me about what, Lily?” Hermione asked, her words still muffled from the elongated teeth. Apparently vomiting slugs was more concerning than enlarged teeth, but not quite as serious as an enlarged nose.

Lily finally looked up to Hermione, her eyes immediately going to her protruding teeth before looking away again. “Nothing,” Lily replied, her cheeks coloring. “I just thought that, well, since Sev was lonely, he could find you. Better than hanging around with them.”

“They’re my housemates, Lily. What do you want me to do, ignore them?” Severus protested.

“Yes!” Lily snapped. “You hear what they call me, Severus. They aren’t nice.”

Hermione could guess what the Slytherins called her. Severus’s eyes shifted toward Hermione but did not look at her.

After a long pause, he swallowed and said, “I can’t ignore them. I have to watch my back everywhere else in this school, I won’t do it in my own dormitory. And just because I spend time with them doesn’t mean I agree with them!”

“Sirius cast the first hex,” Hermione interjected, watching Lily tense, preparing to say something. “We were in the Owlery, talking. Just like you asked him to. He found me, we chatted. Those idiots came and started everything.”

As the words tumbled out of her mouth, Hermione could only think of the troll in the girls’ washroom. How she lied for Harry and Ron’s sake, and how they became friends after that. She wasn’t sure why, since she wasn’t lying, and Lily was hardly anyone of authority. She felt Severus’ eyes on her, and she looked at him as she continued.

“I have no idea why you’re snapping at him, especially when he didn’t get to defend himself before I got involved. Really, me hexing Sirius made things worse. So honestly, if you’re going to berate someone, berate me. And don’t you dare growl at him for dragging me into anything.”

Lily opened and closed her mouth a few times before saying, “This isn’t the first time it’s happened, you know.”

“I deduced that for myself.”

Before Lily could say anything else, Madam Pomfrey came over to the bed and smiled down at Hermione. “All right, Miss Granger. Now, I can’t say your teeth will return to their original appearance,” -she placed a gentle reassuring hand on Hermione’s shoulder- “but at least you’ll be able to talk and eat.”

“And close your mouth,” Severus added. “You’ve been drooling.”

“At least there may be an improvement when she’s done with me,” Hermione replied, forcing herself to keep the smile off her face when she noticed Severus’ eyes held a twinkle of amusement.

“Honestly, the pair of you!” Lily flung her hands in the air. She growled as she stormed out of the hospital wing.

“Yes, well, shall we get started, then?” Madam Pomfrey said with a sigh. At Hermione’s nod, the matron began to perform the counter-charm.

It was disconcerting to feel her teeth shrinking, more so than their growth. Hermione shut her eyes tightly, balling her hands into fists to not fidget from the uncomfortable sensation. She felt them move past her lower lip, then her upper, and then stop. Blinking open her eyes, she ran her tongue along the top row. Her eyes widened as she felt how perfectly even they were. Madam Pomfrey conjured a mirror, and then walked away with a knowing smile.

Examining her reflection, Hermione involuntarily reached up to touch them.

“My parents wouldn’t let me fix them before,” she muttered to herself.

“Why?” Severus asked.

She merely shook her head, knowing there was no way she could explain it without giving away that she wasn’t a half-blood. “Doesn’t matter,” she managed to whisper. “I suppose … maybe I should thank Sirius.”

Severus snorted. “I don’t think his ego needs any more inflating.”

“Hmm, probably right.” After a time, she set the mirror down and turned to Severus. “How long do you think before James tries the Hair Growth Charm?”

“I think the question would be whether or not he can find someone competent enough to cast it.”

“I know it.”

“Of course you do.”

“And can cast it.”

“Of course you can.”

“And why do you say it like that?”

“Because you’re a bloody know-it-all,” Severus said with an exasperated chuckle. His hand then shot in the air and waved around. “This is you every class, without fail. Before you showed up, people were called on, and we got a good laugh at their idiotic answers. It’s only been three weeks and I’m sure I’m not the only one who wants you to go back to where you came from.”

From the moment the words left his mouth, Hermione knew he regretted them.

But it hurt. She would never get back to where she came from, and the painful reminder of turning fifteen two days ago with no one the wiser still lingered.

Without a word, Hermione got off the bed and left the hospital wing. Severus didn’t try to stop her.

—————H—————

“I’m going to have to give you detention, you understand?” Professor McGonagall’s voice pulled Hermione out of her reverie in the library.

It looked like her solitude was about to come to an end.

She set her book down on the table and looked up at the professor.

“I figured.”

“I heard the story from Messrs. Black and Potter, and Mister Snape won’t say a thing. He never has. Will you give your account of the incident?”

“Severus was in the Owlery when I arrived to send some post. We’d barely begun talking when the lot of them interrupted us. Sirius said they came up for Charms ‘practice.’ And he even confessed that he wasn’t there for the owls, which only makes me think they used the Ma—” she coughed violently, and then groaned in frustration. “Apparently I can’t tell you.”

“Hermione—” Minerva began gently.

“Maybe I should,” Hermione said with a set jaw. “Maybe I should just resist the blasted Vow long enough to tell you something. Then I would be put out of my misery, wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t mean—”

“I’ve lost my family and friends. And let … ugh! I can’t even say more than that. And really, how horrible does that sound? I lost my family because I tripped over a bloody cat!” She huffed, a couple of tears escaping her.

“Five points from Gryffindor for language,” Minerva said gently. “But I do understand the frustration. I understand why Albus asked you to make an Unbreakable Vow, especially since he knows what happens in the future—”

“What do you mean?”

“Well.” Minerva frowned. “You told him, didn’t you? There’s the problem with You-Know-Who and his followers, he mentioned that you had information—”

“He said he didn’t think he should know,” Hermione interrupted. “He said that it wouldn’t be wise. That’s why he made me take the Vow, so I couldn’t say anything to anyone.”

“Hm,” Minerva said, still frowning in confusion as she looked around the room. She took a breath and turned back to Hermione. “Either way, I’m sure it will get better. And I would like to think that Bob and Delia have made you feel like family.”

Hermione bowed her head. “Right now, my parents are … finishing dental school. They married last year, I think. They won’t consider having me until it’s nearly too late. They’re out there right now and I can’t see them. I may never see them again. By the time I see my friends again, I’ll be old enough to be their mother. God knows I’ve always nagged them like one.

“I’ve told myself time and time again, from the moment I arrived, that this would be a fresh start. But I only just really remembered to write to Delia, and when I went to sign it … I didn’t know what to do. And I haven’t made any real friends here.”

“There’s Miss Evans and Mr. Snape—” Minerva said, but Hermione shook her head.

“Lily isn’t really a friend, but she’s more than any of the others, since I don’t have any patience or anything in common with the other girls. And Severus, well, he only tolerates me because Lily asks him to.”

“I see,” Minerva consented with a sigh. “Well, you’ve missed dinner, and I cannae have you avoiding meals. Delia will have my hide if she catches wind of it. Let’s head to my office and I’ll have the house-elves bring tea for you.” She rose, offering Hermione her hand. “And then we’ll discuss your detention on Monday night.”

Hermione couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her as she followed Minerva out of the library.

September 23, 1974

She stayed out of sight for the rest of the weekend. Lily had said nothing more than a “see you around” when Hermione had left for the library.

She went down to breakfast alone Monday morning. She ate her porridge with her head bent over a book, feeling eyes on her but ignoring them. When she finished, she packed up, noticed that Lily wasn’t ready, and moved to leave on her own.

“Hermione,” she heard Remus call, and she stopped as he jogged up to her. Glancing past him, she noticed Sirius watching them with interest, James (whose hair was decidedly too long now) was distracted by Lily. Peter was staring beady-eyed at Sirius. “Er, about Saturday—”

“What about it?” she asked, her attention back on Remus.

“Well, er.” He wrung his hands. “The thing is, they didn’t mean to get into it with you.”

“No,” she said, crossing her arms against her chest. “No, they meant to get into it with Severus.”

“Look,” he sighed, glancing over his shoulder. She guessed she wasn’t supposed to have noticed the encouraging gesture Sirius gave him. “Snape … isn’t exactly a nice guy.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

Remus furrowed his brow. “You are?”

“Yes. Since I’ve known him, he finds a way to insult me at least once in a conversation, and I’m blatantly aware that he would much rather I disappear than be in his presence.” She huffed, thinking of the future Professor Snape as much as the words Severus spoke on Saturday. “But he doesn’t seek out people for the sole purpose of hexing them. He doesn’t intentionally hinder others from learning. And most importantly, at this moment, he would never send another person to make his apologies.” At this she looked purposely at Sirius, who smiled smugly at her. She glared and looked back at Remus. “So, forgive me if I choose the lesser of two evils. I’ll see you in class, Remus.” Hermione gave a curt nod and headed toward the doors.

“You were supposed to get her to come with us,” she heard Sirius complain, and shook her head in disbelief that he could think that she would join them after Saturday. But then again, he had been in another section of the hospital wing and just out of sight on Saturday. He certainly hadn’t left before she had, so he must have heard her and Severus.

That gave her pause, but only for a moment. The Marauders had seen an opening, and they had attempted to exploit it to either hurt Severus (which wouldn’t have worked) or sway Lily (which also wouldn’t have worked).

“Bloody fantastic,” she grumbled, picking up speed and storming out of the Great Hall.

Shortly afterward, Severus fell into step with her. “You’re a pain in the arse.”

“I believe we’ve already covered you would rather I not exist, I don’t need further insult from you,” she said in a clipped tone, picking up her pace in a vain attempt to get away from him.

“I didn’t … fuck, would you stop?” he snapped quietly. She stopped, but she didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry for what I said on Saturday, but only the part where I said that … I meant every word about you being an insufferable know-it-all. It drives me absolutely spare and the Slytherins mock you constantly.” Hermione peeked at him to see him run his hand through his hair. She hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t quite so greasy in the mornings. Limp, yes, lank most certainly, but that greasy look wasn’t there. He glanced over, seeing he had her attention. “I may have also still been a bit defensive about the Owlery. I don’t need someone defending me, and I certainly don’t need someone willing to patch them up to do so.”

“I said I could perform the charm,” Hermione said, turning a bit toward him. “I never said I would.”

Severus frowned. “He has hair now.”

“Astute observation. However, it’s far too long. I, as an insufferable know-it-all, would have stopped before it got to that point. What’s more, I was in the library all weekend.”

“Right.”

“And as for defending you, whether you wanted or needed my help doesn’t matter. I was there, and I certainly wasn’t going to stand by and let you get hexed by those idiots.”

“They’re from your own house.”

She shrugged. “That’s right.”

“I’m a Slytherin. I’m a rival and am going to turn Dark and do all sorts of wicked things when I grow up.”

She considered what the Vow would let her say. “I set a teacher on fire,” she stated, only feeling the slightest of flutters in her heart. “I also stole from one to brew Polyjuice.” Nothing worse than flutters. “And I punched a boy in a rival house in the face for the sheer pleasure of shutting him up. Not as delinquent as the first two, but still not what one would call good. Other than hexing a few arseholes back in Defense, what’s the worst thing you’ve done?”

As she spoke, a slight smile began to pull on his lips. “You know, I believe I’ve misjudged you. You’re more likable than I originally thought.”

Hermione twisted her mouth in an effort not to laugh, wondering if Professor Snape sat at his desk after that fateful Quidditch match and realized who it was. Or if he laughed more when she’d turned herself into a cat. Perhaps, moments after she disappeared, Draco Malfoy finally found him and complained he’d tell his father about what happened. She wondered if Professor Snape would remember it all with fondness or annoyance.

—————S—————

December 25, 1992

“Severus, pull yourself together!” Poppy scolded as she dragged him into her office, but it only made him laugh harder. He hadn’t meant to laugh in front of her, truly, he hadn’t.

Only, once he noticed some of his inventory starting to go missing, he remembered Hermione’s confession from their fourth year. He knew, without a doubt, that she was the one who was stealing, and he knew what she was doing with it. He’d remembered the confession after he’d returned to his office after last year’s first Quidditch match and found a new set of robes with a note from his wife saying “sorry”. 

Hermione had warned him not to get too comfortable after the children were settled, an embarrassed flush to her cheeks as she gazed into her wine, refusing to look at him. He was curious, to say the least, but knew she couldn’t say anything.

When Poppy Flooed, saying there had been a Polyjuice  accident, curiosity morphed into panic. He plucked up the antidote along with a bezoar from his own personal stores, assuming she had somehow brewed it wrong and he would have to save her life.

When he’d seen what the accident entailed, he’d lost it.

“You realize H. is down in the sitting room right now, fully aware of what I’m up here seeing.”

“Yes, but Hermione Granger is terrified and in need of some comfort.”

“When have I ever been comforting?” he asked, wiping away a tear of mirth.

“I can think of quite a few times, actually,” Poppy countered, crossing her arms. “Be nice to Miss Granger, as nice as you can be, anyway. Get her fixed up as best you can, and then go laugh at your wife to your heart’s content. Though I imagine you will be transfiguring the sofa this evening, if that’s the case.”

“I’m afraid Miss Granger’s problem is more complex than simply giving her an antidote. There’s a reason one does not use animal hair in Polyjuice.”

“But you can fix her, can’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall being married to a furry, so yes, Poppy, I can fix her.”

“Good.” Poppy nodded once. “Although if I were you, I would avoid any phrases with your wife that involve making her ‘purr.’”

If such words had left the matron’s lips at any other time, especially with that smirk, Severus may have become indignant or offended. He hated that the intimacies he shared with his wife were speculated upon, especially so crudely.

But this was not a normal situation, and Severus immediately resumed his laughter, leaving the hospital wing to brew the potion to fix the girl who, in two years, would become his best friend. And also to put off seeing his wife as long as possible.

The sofa really wasn’t that comfortable, even when Transfigured.

Chapter Text

—————H—————

October 31, 1974

“I would be more excited if there was something more substantial than apples for dinner,” Hermione told Lily, who was bouncing with glee as they sat out under a tree by the Black Lake with Severus. They had decided to head out there after Charms, seeking some quiet before the Halloween feast inevitably brought all of the students from hyper to intolerable.

“And I guess Ilvermorny had a Halloween feast without candy?” Lily asked. “And it’s enchanted candy, anyway. It’s not like you’d feel ill after eating it.”

“Digestion-wise, no,” Severus said from where he sat on the ground beside Hermione. He picked up a stone, flicking it so it skipped across the lake surface at least a dozen times before it sunk. “But what about the headache, the fatigue that will set in tomorrow? You may only have to worry about listening to the proper way to muck a Thestral stall, but some of us have real subjects to study,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching as Lily became indignant.

Hermione giggled quietly, still not sure what to think of this Severus Snape, even over a month since he decided she was worth getting to know. He still didn’t talk much when Lily wasn’t with them, but that suited Hermione just fine. She didn’t know him like she had known Harry or Ron a month into their tentative friendship, but she had found something in Severus that she never had with them: a study companion. Lily had found a balance between them and the girls, and when she wasn’t with them, Severus and Hermione retreated to the library. They would spend their time together pouring over books or finishing essays, and while it didn’t sound like much, it was perfect for Hermione. He never spoke a word of Quidditch, he never complained that she spent hours in the library, and he never spent the whole time sighing heavily in boredom.

“So don’t overindulge!” Lily shrieked, crossing her arms and standing with her hip jutted out.

“But what if you don’t have a taste for sweets?” Hermione asked. “That’s the problem I have with it. I was never given sweets growing up. Maybe a piece of cake on special occasions.”

“Why weren’t you given sweets?” Lily asked. “Just too expensive or …?”

“They’re terrible for your teeth,” she replied

Severus narrowed his eyes at her, but Lily spoke before he could say anything.

“I suppose there’s that. But this is the wizarding world. Surely they have a potion to fix your teeth?” Lily asked, looking pointedly at Hermione’s mouth.

Severus drew his legs up slowly, resting his arms on his knees and hid the lower half of his mouth behind them.

“You don’t need it, Evans,” James’ voice cut in.

She groaned, and Severus immediately sat up straighter. It was reflex, really. Hermione had noticed that unless they could be incredibly discreet and had the benefit of the doubt if caught, the Marauders never did anything to Severus in front of Lily. Or her, now that she thought about it. She knew they still got in some shots now and then: there had been times when Severus limped into class when Hermione or Lily hadn’t been with him, and there was one night he’d spent in the hospital wing, though he wouldn’t say why. Sirius and James had been a bit too peppy that evening for it to be coincidence.

“I was having a lovely afternoon, weren’t you?” Hermione asked Severus pointedly.

“How could you be enjoying the afternoon if you’re with Snivellus, Kitten?” Sirius asked, coming around from the other side of the tree.

“It’s quite simple, really. His company is infinitely more enjoyable than yours.”

Severus snorted quietly, rolling his eyes before watching James and Lily.

“No, I will not go to Hogsmeade with you!” Lily huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder before crossing her arms. “Why would I want to be seen with a toerag like you?”

“Oh, come on,” James replied, putting on a charming smile. “You’re willing to be seen with Snivellus but not me?”

Severus sneered but said nothing as Lily glared and repeated her previous answer.

“Poor Prongs,” Sirius said with an exaggerated sigh and a shake of his head. “Looks like he’ll be going solo. But then again, maybe Lily could be persuaded if we were to, say, double?”

“I didn’t think Severus was your type,” Hermione replied.

Severus whirled around and shot her a nasty glare that rivaled his older self. Sirius seemed to be choking on air, gasping and coughing with the shock while an out-of-sight Pettigrew laughed. Hermione met Severus’ gaze and mouthed, ‘sorry.’ It softened his glare, but only somewhat.

“I think you’re mistaken, Kitten,” Sirius finally managed to say.

“I can’t see how I would be,” she replied, standing and grabbing her bag. “I can’t possibly imagine why you would think I would ever agree.” She shouldered her bag as Severus stood as well, grabbing his bag and Lily’s. The last member of their trio stepped away from James with a growl of frustration, stomped past Severus, snatching her bag from his grip along the way. He and Hermione set off after her without a word to the three Gryffindors.

Which made Hermione pause.

“What is it?” Severus asked, glancing over his shoulder but continued following the aggravated redhead.

“Where’s Remus?” she asked. “He wasn’t—” Hermione stopped as she realized why he was missing. “Never mind.”

Severus frowned, looking around to spot the fourth member of the Marauders before calling for Lily and jogging to catch up.

As Hermione slowly moved to meet up with her companions, she wondered if maybe the other boys already knew of Remus’ condition. She supposed she would find out during the feast or if they weren’t in the common room afterwards.

“Of course I’d like to go with you,” Lily was saying, and Hermione stopped a few feet away from them. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline, though she turned her head to hide her surprise. They were still talking, probably discussing the particulars of what Hermione guessed was a Hogsmeade date. Her thoughts drowned out any details that they were discussing.

It had, oddly enough, never occurred to her that Lily may have dated someone else before James Potter. And it had never occurred to her that that person could have been Snape. Severus. Harry was always going on about how Snape looked at him oddly, creepily. Wistfully. Which, well, that was weird, because there was Aurora. So it wasn’t as if Snape had hoped for children and had none. And it wasn’t as if Harry’s paternity could possibly be questioned, not with the way he was the spitting image of ….

“Hermione!” Lily shouted, and Hermione jolted from her thoughts and turned to her companions, who wore matching grins of amusement. “Gee, where did you head off to?”

“Sorry, just got a bit sidetracked thinking….”

“Something from your old school?” Lily offered when Hermione took too long to answer.

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. Without another word, she followed them back to the castle. And if she noticed Severus standing a little taller, well, who was she to say anything?

November 2, 1974

Snow fluttered down around her as she walked the streets of Hogsmeade and window-shopped. Hermione had gone to the village with Lily and Severus, but promptly excused herself so she wouldn’t be the third wheel. She’d felt that way sometimes with Harry and Ron, and she certainly wasn’t eager to find out what it felt like with an actual couple.

Though that thought did make her wonder if there would have been a day when Harry felt like the third wheel.

She hadn’t really had a chance to have a proper crush on Ron. It may not be the way crushes and love work, but after being as distracted by Lockhart as she had been, Hermione had decided that she wouldn’t let herself feel that infatuated unless it was convenient. And Ron had been an utter prat last year (nineteen years in the future?), going on about Crookshanks attacking Scabbers. He was a prat the year before as well, with his unwavering resolve that Aurora Snape was the Heir of Slytherin and his subsequent hostility whenever she approached Ginny. Still, on their first Hogsmeade visit, before Malfoy came and ruined it, she had pretended for a moment that it was a date. The idea had been nice at the time. Now, she knew that by the time she returned to 1994, she would have no romantic interest in him.

“Hermione?” She stopped at Remus’ questioning voice. “I’m sorry, but I lost the others, and I was wondering if you’d seen them?”

“I avoided Sirius twice already, once by Zonko’s  and near Spintwitches about five minutes ago. James was with him, sulking.”

“Thanks,” Remus said. He was about to leave when he stopped, turning back toward her. “Are you … are you here alone?”

“Yeah,” she said, stuffing her hands in her coat pocket.

“And that’s … I mean, I see you around with Lily and Severus, I just thought ….”

“Oh, well, they had a thing, so.” She looked at the road, watching the gathering flakes.

“Well, er, we could always spend our day together,” he offered.

“And once Sirius and James see you’re with me? Thank you Remus, but I’ll pass.”

“Yes, probably for the best,” he agreed sheepishly.

“Remus.” She stopped him as he was about to run away. “I know you don’t like what they do to Severus or the other students they pick on. Why do you stay with them?”

Remus shifted uncomfortably. “I have reasons.”

“I imagine you do. I know what it’s like to get friends where you can get them, even if it means lowering your standards.”

“You mean with Severus?” he asked, not unkindly.

She narrowed her eyes. “I meant the friends I had before coming here. They weren’t exactly rule-abiding, nor were they particularly dedicated to their studies.” Remus had the decency to blush as he averted his eyes. A tiny niggling of guilt gnawed at Hermione and she mentally rolled her eyes at her own conscience. “Look, what I was getting at is, well, with an apology, Severus may … well, I don’t know about forgive you, but he might tolerate you. And I’m fairly certain Lily doesn’t mind you, and, well, I think you may not be too bad. So if you want to … not hang around those idiots, we’re here. At least two of us are,” she added with a bit of a smile, and Remus grinned.

“I’ll consider it. Thank you, Hermione. But for now, I think it best I find the id—er, James and Sirius before they cause trouble.”

She waved goodbye and watched him disappear in the direction of Spintwitches before turning on her heel. She was just contemplating a more thorough browse of Tomes and Scrolls when she heard familiar laughter behind her. She caught sight of Lily, Marlene, and Alice giggling as they came out of Curl Up and Dye, all clutching bags and turning down the street, probably heading to Madam Puddifoot's .

Hermione frowned, eyes darting about to see if she could find the familiar head of greasy hair.

She didn’t.

Maybe the girls were walking Lily to meet Severus for lunch? It wasn’t as if she had heard their plans, maybe that had been their arrangement.

In either case, Hermione decided that it might be a good idea to grab a butterbeer and warm up from her stroll before heading to the bookshop.

She tried not to peek into the window as she approached the Three Broomsticks , but her eyes kept flickering to the panes. It was hard to see inside, and what she could see told her absolutely nothing. Once she entered, it felt like nearly half the Hogwarts student body was crammed inside, it was so loud and boisterous.

Hermione maneuvered her way through the crowd, and when she spotted him hunched over the table, her heart dropped. Severus’ hair was hiding his face and both hands gripped a mug of butterbeer as if it were a life preserver.

There was a group of older Gryffindors a few tables over snickering and looking at him, a group of Hufflepuffs shooting him pitying looks. She hoped the Slytherins nearby really weren’t paying attention to their lonely housemate. She honestly couldn’t imagine what Severus would be like angered and embarrassed, but she was certain he wouldn’t be a pleasure to live with if someone brought it up.

Taking a breath, she pushed her way through the crowd with more determination.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she declared loudly as she removed her scarf and plopped down in the chair across from him.

His head snapped up, and he let his confusion show for only a moment before he gave her a nasty glare. “And what bloody kept you?” he demanded.

“I was held up by Sirius and James. And then Remus. Not to mention I got lost on my way back from J. Pippin’s . Honestly, you should have just come with me, maybe then I wouldn’t have wandered into the wrong tavern. But I suppose you had the right idea, this place did fill up quite fast, didn’t it?” She took a breath, having rambled without properly inhaling once.

Severus still glared at her, but behind his dark eyes was the slightest hint of gratitude. As Rosmerta set down a butterbeer in front of her, one obviously meant for Lily, Hermione’s stomach twisted further into knots. She gave a shy grin in thanks to the beautiful barkeeper and wrapped her hands around the mug but couldn’t bring herself to drink it just yet.

“I suppose it didn’t occur to you to ask one of them for directions. Or Lily, for that matter. I imagine you’ve seen her?” he asked casually with a sneer, turning his head away as he took a hearty drink.

“Trust those fools to get me here? Hardly. I’d have ended up in the Shrieking Shack.” Severus raised a brow but said nothing. “As for Lily, I only saw her at a distance, with Alice and Marlene.” His eyes shot to hers at this. “They were heading back toward J. Pippin’s after coming out of the salon.”

His shoulders dropped infinitesimally, the curl of his sneer faltering, his eyes looking down at his drink.

“Since I was so late, how about I buy us lunch?” she offered, already mentally counting the few Galleons  she had earned over the summer. Galleons that would have to last.

“A butterbeer doesn’t cost that much.” He waved it off, but Hermione shook her head.

“At least let me get some pasties to share.”

He turned back toward her, eyes harsh. “I don’t need your p—”

“Oh hush up,” she snapped, cutting him off. “It’s hardly like it’ll do you harm to eat something, and you already bought me a butterbeer when you really didn’t have to. So shut up and let me get us something to eat.”

He looked like he was about to argue but sighed heavily instead. He rolled his eyes and gestured for her to head to the counter.

Hermione went up and ordered some Cornish pasties for the two of them. Rosmerta smiled kindly, eyes dancing between her and Severus, but never said a word.

“I’ll bring them over when they’re ready, love,” she said, and Hermione thanked her before returning to her seat.

Severus didn’t say anything while they waited, and Hermione hadn’t the slightest idea as to what she could say to him at this point. A dozen questions danced on her tongue: was this the first time Lily stood him up or was this a reoccurring thing? If the latter, why did he keep doing it to himself? It was obvious he had a crush on her and really, Hermione couldn’t blame him. She was absolutely stunning. But knowing what she did of the future, she wondered how long he would pine after someone who didn’t see him the same way. And if, perhaps, all those years later, he still pined for Lily Evans despite being married (or attached) himself.

Rosmerta came by again to set down the pasties and promptly returned to the bar.

Just as both of them went to reach for one of the savory pastries, the doors to the bar opened and drew their attention. Lily and the other girls, accompanied by a couple others Hermione didn’t recognize, came inside and went right to the bar.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked Severus really quietly, but he either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her to see what Lily would do.

The girls ordered drinks and once they had them, they headed to the opposite side of the bar to find a seat.

Severus looked back at the table, his eyes darting around as if he was calculating something. “Sorry,” he said, standing and grabbing his cloak off the back of his chair with a flourish he would perfect in adulthood. “I don’t really have much of an appetite right now. You’ll excuse me?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, though she doubted he heard.

She refused to see if he went to Lily for an explanation or if he left the Three Broomsticks. Instead, she ate her lunch on her own, wondering if maybe she should say something. She doubted Severus would appreciate it, but he was obviously quite upset about it.

“Hermione!” she heard Lily call from the bar, and she looked over. “Come join us! No sense in sitting alone.”

She stared at the ginger, probably for only a moment, though it felt like an eternity. Confusion shadowed Lily’s expression, but nothing else clouded those clear green eyes.

Hermione inhaled deeply through her nostrils as her lips clamped shut in an effort to not lash out. Smashing the last half of her second pasty with her fingers, she tossed the remains down on her plate before she stood up and grabbed her jacket. She stormed out, only glancing at the side of the room Lily was at. As expected, Severus wasn’t there.

As she tramped through the streets back to the castle, Hermione realized that one of the traits Harry had obviously gotten from his mother was his obliviousness.

December 10, 1974

She could see him out of the corner of her eye while she feigned complete and utter concentration on her Defense essay. Hermione had to admit Severus was incredibly stealthy. If it wasn’t for the fact that the homemade candy Delia had sent her was disappearing faster than Hermione was eating them, she wouldn’t have known her friend was stealing the chocolate morsels. He would rest his hand near the bag, just out of view and without looking, then reach in with his long fingers and pluck one out. And the way he read, with his hair hiding his face, he only needed to feign tapping his lip thoughtfully in order to sneak the candy past his lips.

By the fifth instance of this, Hermione couldn’t stop the giggle that had been threatening to overwhelm her since she first noticed.

Severus’ eye darted in her direction, just visible through the curtain of hair, and his jaw was set in just such a way that it was quite obvious he was chewing something. It only made Hermione laugh harder.

An older student shushed her with a glare, and she blushed as she choked back the laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Severus ground out, and the venom in his voice gave her pause.

She cleared her throat before replying, “I just find it amusing that you’re sneaking candy I offered to share with you.” And while his glare would later instill fear and obedience, it only made her lip curl in humor now.

Severus continued to glare, but there was no heat behind it. “Perhaps I didn’t want to draw attention to it? There are others in the room, others who were not invited to partake.”

“Is that why so much of it is gone? You’d rather there not be any to share by eating it all? And since I get so easily distracted with work, you’re helping me, is that it?” She arched a brow, and while Severus continued to glare, his lip twitched.

“It’s the best possible solution, isn’t it?” he asked, plucking another candy from the bag and holding it between his long dexterous fingers. “From my experience, these can be addictive. And if someone else tried them, someone with less self-control than me, they may go so far as to hurt you to get them.”

“Are you protecting me?” Hermione asked, grinning a little wider.

Severus scoffed. “Hardly, I’m protecting myself. Regardless of what house would attack you for these little temptations, I’m a Slytherin. I’m sitting next to you, a Gryffindor. I get in enough trouble from the prats in your house, I don’t particularly want further detentions I don’t deserve.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Hermione shrugged, grabbing a candy and popping it in her mouth. She could feel Severus studying her.

He’d been doing that now and then ever since she’d pulled her little stunt in the Three Broomsticks. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

When she’d seen him the next day, she’d almost expected him to tell her to fob off and mind her own business. But Severus had pretended nothing happened.

At least with her.

With Lily, it was another story altogether.

He didn’t tell her to fob off either or bring up Lily’s mistake. But there was a shift that Hermione just couldn’t put her finger on.

She watched as Lily flittered into the study hall, smiling to herself without a care in the world as she made her way over to them and plopped down across from Severus. He’d noticed her walk in and for a moment, he’d tensed before casually placing the sweet in his mouth and looking down at his parchment.

“I’m so glad you’re still here, Sev. I still have to write my essay for Slughorn, and I wanted to ask you why you need dried instead of fresh onion root in the appetite enhancer.”

Severus nodded slowly. “I just need to finish my Charms essay and then I can help you,” he said, finally lifting his gaze to hers. Lily beamed, but Severus didn’t react.

And that was what Hermione was having a hard time processing. She’d been friends with both of them for about four months now, and Severus had always abandoned his work to help Lily without fail, up until about four weeks ago. And when she flashed him that perfect smile, he would blush a little or smiled to himself. But that had stopped, too. He was not unkind to her and it was clear he still thought of her as a friend, but there was a shift. It was as if he was holding himself back from saying something to her, and maybe he was since their failed date, but he didn’t feel it was important enough to say it.

“I can help if you want,” Hermione offered.

“Thanks.” Lily’s smile faded a bit. “But Sev is a genius at potions. No offense, Mione.”

Severus’ lip curled briefly at the nickname. “Must you call her that?”

“What? She said her friends at her old school called her that all the time. We are her friends too, aren’t we?” Lily argued, tilting her head up a bit before reaching across the table and snatching a candy from the bag.

As Lily popped it in her mouth and started digging through her bag, Severus looked at Hermione. He raised his eyebrows and gestured to Lily as if to say, ‘I told you,’ and Hermione snickered before returning to her Defense essay.

“I think I’m writing this essay from memory,” she said a short time later, once Lily had her books out and was settled. “I learned about Boggarts last year.”

“So did we,” said Lily. “But Professor Jones doesn’t care or listen. He’s quite set in his ways, even though the whole school knows he started off all the classes a year behind and now just refuses to correct himself.”

“There are second years who have mastered a Vanishing Spell for a particular colored ink in my house,” Severus said without looking away from his paper. “I won’t say where they learned it from.”

“Severus!” Hermione hissed. He turned to her with an arched eyebrow but said nothing. “You’re letting them cheat!”

“Is it really cheating when they’ve already done the work? And when, may I ask, have you seen me actually working on a Defense essay?”

“Well, if you haven’t been working on that when you’ve said you were—”

“Never once have I said I was working on my Defense essay, merely my defense. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a particularly popular target.”

“They’ve stopped, haven’t they?” Lily protested.

Severus shrugged, diverting his eyes, and Hermione frowned as she saw the tension in his shoulders.

“Severus,” she said quietly. “I thought they had.”

He continued writing for a while before he spoke. “They’ve been catching me when you aren’t around or aren’t looking. Even better, just after we’ve parted ways and we won’t see each other for the rest of the day. There are moments, after all, when the pair of you are not with me.”

Hermione swung her head around and glared at the Marauders across the room. Three of them were laughing, Sirius throwing a crumpled-up paper at Peter’s head, James trying to flatten his hair and glancing toward the door. Remus was trying to bury himself in his book.

“Let it go,” Severus said quietly, and Hermione turned her glare on him. He shifted his eyes quickly from her face to her hair, and she reached up to feel how frizzy it was. “They’ve toned it down. For now.”

After a moment, Hermione nodded, though she vowed to keep a closer eye on the troublemakers.

“Hey!” Lily said, getting their attention. “Did you guys hear about the Yule Ball?”

—————A—————

November 8, 1992

“Rory!”

The hissing of her name stopped her dead, and Aurora glanced around to make sure no one else was around. Ginny had gone off again, mumbling something about a diary that Aurora didn’t quite understand, leaving her alone to head back to the tower.

Once she made sure that no one else was around, Aurora turned around and headed back to the alcove she knew he was in.

“Hi, Draco,” she said quietly.

The blond smiled, not smarmily, like she’d seen more often than not this year, but genuinely.

“I heard Creepy-Creevey  became the next victim. Least he won’t be following you around because Pottie talks to you.”

“It’s not funny, Draco.” Aurora glowered, crossing her arms and looking at the floor.

“Oh, come on. You can’t really like him that much, can you?” Draco whined. When Aurora didn’t say anything, he added in a disgusted tone, “You don’t fancy him or anything, do you?”

Aurora shot her gaze back up to Draco, scowling at his wrinkled nose. “I don’t. But if I did, what would it matter?”

Draco looked taken aback. “He’s inferior. He’s a Mud—”

Before he could finish the word, Aurora slapped him across the face with all the force her twelve-year-old body could muster. Draco’s head snapped to the side, most likely as much in surprise as from the force of the impact. He raised a hand to his reddening cheek, turning to her with a look of utter betrayal.

“Don’t use that word.”

“How can you possibly be offended by it?” he demanded.

“Use your head, Draco,” she sneered. “Think! Observe! You used to be so clever, but maybe being the ‘Prince of Slytherin’ has made you so pompous you’ve forgotten how to think. Daddy always said he had to be different while at school, but he never told me it was the case for all Slytherins. Or maybe that’s just you.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense, Snape.”

“And you’re being a prat, Malfoy.”

He seemed taken aback for a moment and then he grinned smugly. “Oh, I get it. You’re offended because of the company you chose to keep. Granger.” He spat her mother’s maiden name with disgust. “Blood traitors, the Weasleys. And Potter, though at least I don’t see you mooning after him like Weaslette.”

“And who was it that went on and on about him over the summer?” Aurora challenged. She felt her hair getting bigger as he riled her up. Her father’s genes may have helped reduce the frizziness, but her emotions and her magic wreaked havoc over her locks like her mother’s.

Draco, at least, had the decency to blush. He said nothing as he shoved past her and out of the alcove and Aurora watched as her childhood friend stalked down the hall.

She had no idea how long she’d been staring when she heard a dreamy voice say, “It’s okay. He’ll get it in time. Not everyone has the sense to see what’s right in front of them. But then again, I suppose you were warned to take care what you say for the next couple of years.”

Frowning, Aurora turned to see a pretty little blonde with snap peas in her ears. She wasn’t quite sure if she should say anything about the odd earrings or the necklace of oddly-shaped rocks.

Noticing Aurora’s gaze on her accessories, the blonde smiled. “It’s to make sure the Nifflers don’t steal them. They love shiny things so much, they’ll take it right off your neck. I’m Luna, by the way. And you’re Aurora Snape.”

“Rory,” she corrected.

“Is it weird, seeing your mother only a year older than you?” Luna asked, tilting her head and worrying a rock on the string around her neck.

Aurora’s eyes grew wide and she whipped her head around to see if anyone, even a portrait, was listening.

“Don’t worry,” Luna said. “We’re alone. There aren’t even any Wrackspurts around.”

“Any what?” Aurora shook her head. “Never mind. How did you know about …?”

“You two look quite a bit alike, really. I’m surprised no one has noticed. But I suppose it’s hard to imagine when you’re twelve and she’s thirteen. Her accident hasn’t happened yet.”

Aurora gaped at her, blinking.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Luna soothed, her voice never wavering. “I won’t say anything. I quite like Professor Snape, even if he is a bit mean sometimes, and I wouldn’t want to do anything that would hurt him or his family.” And without another word, Luna skipped down the hall.

Aurora continued to stand in the middle of the hallway, completely gobsmacked and uncertain if she should mention this to her parents.

She ultimately decided that if Luna said anything to anyone, they would think she was positively loony.

Snickering to herself, Aurora made her way to Gryffindor Tower. She needed a nap or a good book. Maybe both.

November 29, 1992

“Rory!” Hagrid exclaimed as he opened the door. “What are ya doin’ down ‘ere?”

“Hi, Hagrid. Thought I would stop in for some tea,” she said, and he stepped aside to let her into his hut.

“No Ginny this time?” he asked, looking around outside before shutting the door.

“She’s … preoccupied,” Aurora replied, not really wanting to get into Gin’s Harry obsession or her writing hobby.

Hagrid studied her, his bushy brows furrowing. “Ain’t seen you with anyone aside from her,” he observed. “You makin’ friends up there, ain’t yer?”

Aurora shrugged. “I have Gin.”

“What about Harry, Hermione, and Ron? They good people, Gryffindors ta boot.”

“I knew Harry from school,” she admitted, and at Hagrid’s confusion, she clarified, “Muggle school. And Hermione, well, it’s complicated with her.”

Hagrid nodded, though she knew he didn’t know. Her mother had said she made it a point to not go anywhere near Hagrid’s hut when she joined her father in the past, and merely offered a smile and a hello when in passing. It wasn’t until after her father started teaching at Hogwarts that her mother introduced (or reintroduced) herself to Hagrid, but as Professor Snape’s wife. And with a slightly altered appearance.

“Ron hates me,” she added with a whisper.

“Why’d ya think that?”

“He doesn’t like me around Ginny. He gets quiet and glares when I walk into the common room, muttering things like ‘go back to Slytherin.’ I swear he really believes I’m the heir, even if Harry is sure it’s someone else.”

“And wha’ does yer father say?” he asked, concern coloring his voice.

“Make sure I’m not alone. Watch my back. Remember that not all Gryffindors are my mother, and that they can be the worst if they hold a grudge against you. And Draco, well, he certainly hasn’t been my friend these days.”

“Draco?” Hagrid repeated. “Oh, the young Malfoy. Didn’t realize you were friends.”

“My dad’s his godfather.”

“Right,” he said, his voice darkening a bit.

There was a story there that Aurora didn’t understand, but she knew it had something to do with Dad’s tattoo. He didn’t talk about it much, though she remembered seeing it as a young child and asking about it. It had scared her, and he’d told her there was a reason for that. She was aware that it represented dark, evil things that he didn’t believe in but pretended to.

“Like when you told Draco that you liked his toy broom, when you actually thought it was quite rubbish.”

It was a childish explanation, but she understood it at the tender age of four. She’d never asked about it again, though as she had gotten closer to attending Hogwarts, her parents had further explained why her father acted differently around certain people. She knew that there were Slytherin students that he had to amp his pretense for, that he had to pretend to like people he didn’t and vice versa.

“Sometimes I hate it here,” she admitted quietly. “I wish I’d gone to Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny. I wish I’d gone somewhere where it doesn’t matter who my dad is and what he does.”

“Yer dad’s a good man,” Hagrid said kindly. “Brave man. It’s why yer Gryffindor, I’d wager. Got his bravery, yer did.”

“Mum was a Gryffindor,” she reminded him with a wane smile.

“Brave she was, too. Choosin’ yer dad with all the stuff he had to do, his work for Dumbledore, gettin’ in good with You-Know-Who.”

“Getting in good with who?” Aurora nearly dropped her cup of tea.

Hagrid blushed. “I shouldna ‘ave said that.”

“Is that ….” She’d heard about Voldemort, though any passing mention in their home or at the Malfoys had always been as ‘The Dark Lord.’ She knew Harry had survived an attack as a baby and that was the reason he was famous. She knew her dad had to pretend to strongly dislike Harry, and sometimes honestly did. She knew her father had been in Azkaban for a few weeks, but the charges were dropped, and his name was cleared. Was that why…?

“Rory,” Hagrid said nervously. “Appreciate it if you didn’t go rootin’ for more on that. Yer dad won’t like it, and yer mum might not let yer brother come down if she’s worried I’ll tell ‘im stuff he ain’t ready to know.”

“I won’t,” she said, meaning it. Though that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to learn a bit more about Voldemort to understand how her father was involved.

Chapter Text

—————H—————

December 23, 1974

Dearest Hermione,

I’m sorry to hear that you won’t be spending the holidays with us, but I’m glad it’s for such a good reason. I always found it hard adjusting to home after being at school for some time, and it was always wonderful when a friend chose to stay with me. I’ve included a second bag of candy for your friend in hopes that this one will last until you come for Christmas Eve dinner.

She told me about the Yule Ball, and I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you before you left. It slipped my mind until your letter.

I hope this dress will do. I had to go to Kiera, and since the matter was of some urgency, she didn’t have time to find a more fitting piece.

I look forward to seeing you again, Hermione. Christmas Eve cannot come fast enough.

Yours,

Delia

Hermione pulled the black dress from the box. There were no frills to it, no embroidery. There were no sleeves, and the sweetheart neckline wasn’t too revealing. It was lovely for such a last-minute find.

Lily had eagerly regaled to a barely-interested Hermione and Severus about how the Yule Ball was a tradition at Hogwarts. As if quoting Hogwarts: A History , Lily recited how it had once been part of the Triwizard Tournament, held on Christmas by whichever school was hosting. Once the tournament was cancelled, the ball was moved to December 23rd as a holiday send-off.

Hermione wondered what she would have done for the Yule Ball in 1994. Would she have desperately wanted to go with Ron? Would she have gone with Neville because he would be the one to ask, instead of Ron? Would she have bothered or spent the night in the library?

With a shake of her head, Hermione stood from her bed and gently laid the dress out.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Marlene said, eyeing the garment. Her hair was pinned in magically-heated rollers, and she and the other girls had been walking around in their dressing gowns since classes had finished. “If you start now, you can get your hair pinned up.”

“Start what now?” Hermione asked.

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Getting ready?” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Honestly, you have such potential, Hermione, but your hair …. Well, it needs the full two and a half hours to be tamed into anything appropriate enough for the ball.”

Lily walked into the room then. Her hair was also up in curlers, and she had clearly finished doing her makeup before dashing over to her bed where she’d left a book open. She plucked up her wand and tapped it against her lips, furrowing her brow in concentration. “Should I charm my nails pink or silver?” she asked the room at large, and this started a debate between Alice and Marlene.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stripped off her uniform and pulled on her borrowed dress. It fit nicely, since Keira McGonagall was of a similar build to Hermione, only slightly taller. Accio ing her wand from the bed, Hermione did a quick spell to make the dress a little shorter.

Her hair was atrocious, though it could have been worse if she had had Potions during the day. Wrangling the sides back, she tied them back away from her face while having the added bonus of looking somewhat nice. She had no jewelry to go with the dress, but if she were being honest with herself, she didn’t really care. She was only going because Lily had begged and Severus had outright refused, and somehow Hermione got dragged into going in order to keep the peace. She imagined the peace was silence, as opposed to Lily’s incessant nagging.

Plucking up the bigger of the two bags of candy, Hermione headed for the door. “I’ll see you there,” she called over her shoulder, though the heat of the great nail debate was still going strong. She doubted anyone heard her.

Hermione left Gryffindor Tower without a hassle. The girls weren’t the only ones who had already gone to their dorms to prep.

She made her way through the corridors, offering a smile or a nod of acknowledgment to those she passed as she made her way to an abandoned classroom in the East Wing. If the Slytherin who had taken residence in there had tried to be discreet, he was failing miserably. She could smell vegetation and smoke in the air as she neared the closed door. She didn’t bother knocking, just slipped in quickly.

Severus didn’t even look up. “You aren’t going to try to convince me to go, are you?” he asked as he stirred a potion.

“Why would I? I barely want to go. You realize I would much rather spend the evening like you will be. Well, maybe not exactly like you. Studying, perhaps. Maybe in the library.”

“And what’s stopping you?” he asked with a sneer. “Or are you afraid to let down your suitor?”

“What suitor?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I’m only going because Lily is concerned James will shadow her all evening.”

“And what exactly would you do to deter the idiot?” Severus asked, withdrawing the stirring rod carefully and setting it aside. He did not pull his eyes away from the potion.

“I’m not sure. Honestly, I’m concerned that Sirius will shadow me all night. I’m almost certain they’ll try to tag-team it.”

“Hmph,” was all Severus had to say as he leaned against the desk behind him and crossed his arms.

Hermione waited, making sure he didn’t say anything else before she ventured closer. “What are you brewing, anyway?”

“I’m testing out a new brewing procedure for a basic pain relief. It would decrease brewing time while increasing potency. I only need to switch the fennel for Devil’s Claw and stir eight times counterclockwise instead of four clockwise.”

“And you thought it was okay to brew, then? On your own? Without supervision? And how can you be sure that the changes won’t result in an explosion or poisoning yourself? You understand that there’s a reason it’s been published in a textbook the way it has for a reason.”

“By the book, of course. Because if it’s in a book it must be right. Honestly, Granger, have you never had an original thought in your life?” he asked, turning to look at her for the first time.

With his hair greasier and lankier with oil build-up and cauldron fumes, his posture somehow commanding for a fourteen-year-old, Hermione immediately remembered that this was Severus Snape , who would one day be Potions master Severus Snape. How would he become the youngest master in the last two centuries if he didn’t experiment? She was starting to forget that her peers now had been adults not six months before. She knew at least something about their futures, but even that had slipped her mind.

Severus looked her over, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You look ….” He paused. “Your hair is still atrocious,” he blurted out eventually, and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.

“Because yours is so much better right now,” she replied, moving her hands to her hips, the bag of candy hitting her thigh.

Severus’ eyes zeroed in on it. “I don’t intend to socialize.”

Hermione’s lips curled and puckered in her attempt to not smile. “Yes, well,” she said when she got herself under control. “I hardly see the point in doing anything with my hair. Everyone knows what it looks like, and I don’t care about the event.”

Severus looked back at the cauldron, deep in thought. He opened his mouth to say something, then frowned as he thought better of it. He then pushed off the desk and peered into his potion.

“I brought these for you.” Hermione broke the silence. “I doubt very much that you will eat them while you brew, but the whole thing is for you.” She placed the bag on the desk as far from the cauldron as she could. “I may have mentioned to Delia, my … guardian, that you liked them.”

Severus nodded, but he seemed too deep in thought to say anything.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Hermione said, and she headed toward the door. Glancing back, she could see Severus staring at the wall as if it held the answers to everything he wanted to know, and she left the abandoned classroom without another word.

—————H—————

“Severus Snape, you bloody idiot!” Hermione screeched, barely holding in her tears as she wiped his uninjured arm with a towel.

She’d barely lasted an hour at the Yule Ball, having endured one dance with Remus before deciding she liked her toes and wanted to keep them. She ignored Sirius’ attempts to lure her back onto the dancefloor, and Lily and the girls were too popular and too enthralled by it all to stay still. So after an hour, Hermione had decided to make her way back to the unused classroom.

Panic had filled her the second she’d stepped inside.

His cauldron was shattered, some pieces embedded in the walls and the desk. There was the iron smell of blood and a splatter on the floor big enough to let her know that he’d bled profusely.

She’d left immediately to run to the hospital wing, hoping beyond hope that the reason she hadn’t seen a blood trail was because Madam Pomfrey had been close enough to discover him.

Severus frowned, yanking the towel from Hermione’s hands and tossed it onto the table on the opposite side of the bed. “It’s your fault.”

“How could it have been my fault? You’re the one experimenting with potion alterations.”

“You brought me the thrice-damned candy! I got distracted because I wanted to keep eating the bloody little addictions.” He tried his best to cross his arms, but his sling made it difficult. “I lost count stirring, which is the only reason it didn’t work.”

“And where was your self-control?” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms and glaring.

“Perfectly intact. Otherwise, I’d have abandoned the potion altogether with the temptation you brought.”

“And here I thought you two got along,” Madam Pomfrey tutted as she approached Severus’ bed. She turned her attention to her patient. “Try not to move around too much, the fracture will heal overnight.”

“Fracture?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Yes,” Madam Pomfrey said, turning to look at her over her shoulder. “Severus’ arm broke with the impact of the cauldron. He was lucky nothing more happened.” She directed this last comment to her patient with a sternness that suggested it wasn’t the first time they’d had that conversation.

“It exploded faster than I anticipated,” he grumbled. He peeked at Hermione and added, “Too far gone to Vanish. I jumped behind the desk and tipped it to use as a shield. Didn’t pull my arm away fast enough.”

“Well, either learn to be faster or talk to Professor Slughorn about what you can use to keep yourself safe when experimenting,” Madam Pomfrey suggested kindly, and Hermione and Severus both snorted and rolled their eyes.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “You’ve convinced her about the professor, I take it?”

“Didn’t need to,” Hermione retorted. “I noticed the man hardly touches a cauldron. He never demonstrates, and whatever he puts in the cauldrons for us to examine is clearly poured in. And I suspect he buys most of the more advanced potions.”

“So you are capable of an original thought,” Severus taunted.

Just as it appeared Madam Pomfrey was going to scold him, Hermione replied, “Are you sure I didn’t overhear it from a sixth year?”

“I can’t, except I know most of your house is incapable of thought.”

“Should I inform Lily of your esteemed opinion?”

She expected him to blush or snap at her. Instead, he shrugged.

“Well, Miss Granger, while I do appreciate your concern for my patient, if you aren’t going back to the Yule Ball, you should head back to your dormitory.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she agreed with a nod. Turning to Severus, she said, “I’ll come see you tomorrow before I leave for the afternoon.”

“Spare me,” he sighed heavily, head falling back against the pillow.

Hermione stuck her tongue out as his eyes half-rolled toward her, and he then rolled them fully with a shake of his head.

But Hermione was quite certain she saw the subtle upturn of his lips before she rounded the corner.

—————A—————

December 17, 1992

Aurora kept looking over her shoulder to where her mother stood in the shadows of the Great Hall, Aunt Min whispering to her. She wasn’t sure if it was a Glamour that made her mother look different, or if the straight blonde hair was enough to change her entire appearance. Either way, when Aurora looked at thirteen-year-old Hermione Granger swooning to her left, she knew without a doubt that no one would ever think they were the same person.

Well, except Luna, but she wasn’t here.

So Aurora turned her attention to the dueling stage where Professor Lockhart stood, looking quite dreamy. And while she loved her father dearly, he was not ‘pleasing to the eye.’ The professors were complete opposites: white and black, blond to black, dashingly handsome to … a charming personality around a very select crowd.

“He’s just brilliant, isn’t he?” Hermione Granger sighed, and Aurora felt nauseated as she watched Hermione’s eyes follow Professor Lockhart.

She turned slowly over to give her mother an exasperated look. But her mother was biting her lip, her eyes locked on her husband. It was just as stomach churning.

Aurora looked away, focused on the two wizards bowing to one another and drawing their wands. They headed to opposite ends of the stage.

“On the count of three,” Professor Lockhart commanded, looking at the crowd of students, “two, one!”

“ Expelliarmus ,” her dad said casually, flicking his wand lazily. Professor Lockhart was tossed across the stage as his wand flew to his opponent. There were shocked gasps all around the room, including from Hermione, who looked the most disappointed of all.

“Are you honestly that surprised?” Aurora asked her quietly. “After what he did to Harry after the Quidditch match?”

“But … he’s a best-selling writer!” Hermione exclaimed. “He’s famous for so many amazing things. And Professor Snape—”

“Into pairs, all of you,” Professor Lockhart called out to the room, gesturing with as much composure as he could.

“I have to go,” Hermione said, moving around Aurora and immediately heading for Millicent Bulstrode.

“I’ll pair with you,” Ginny said as she came up beside Aurora.

“All right,” she agreed, watching Ginny glance over at Harry and Draco, who were starting to duel before the signal was given. In fact, Aurora noticed one by one, everyone was starting to get into it. She and Ginny moved closer to one another as if they could somehow protect one another from the chaos around them.

“Enough!”

Aurora whipped her head toward the stage as her father’s voice cut through the room, making everyone freeze.

“Yes, well.” Professor Lockhart smiled nervously, eyes darting to the corner of the room where Aunt Min and her mum were standing. “Perhaps we should have another demonstration? This time between students? How about Aurora Snape and … Ronald Weasley?”

“Weasley’s wand causes devastation with the simplest spells,” her father cut in. Much to Ron’s disappointment, she was sure. “Don’t believe for a moment I will allow Miss Snape to be on the receiving end. Might I suggest someone from my own house?”

“I’ll do it, Professor.”

Aurora stiffened as she heard Draco volunteer. They hadn’t been on the best of terms since the incident over Colin, and she doubted it would suddenly get better.

“She’s younger than you, and less experienced.”

“It’s fine, Professor Snape,” Aurora said with a nod, heading toward the stage with Draco. She tried her best imitation of her mother’s chin tilt and she caught Draco’s amusement from the corner of her eye.

“Very well,” her dad assented, rolling his eyes and waving it off. He moved to stand off to the side with an air of utter boredom, though she knew he would be watching every little move.

“On three, disarm only,” Professor Lockhart said. “One, two, three!”

“ Aculeus !” Draco shouted, and the bite lashed against Aurora’s wand hand like a hundred bee stings.

She cried out in pain, collapsed on her knees and clutched her hand to her chest. She couldn’t let go of her wand, the swelling keeping it locked in place.

“You were supposed to disarm her, Malfoy!” Harry shouted.

“What are you going to do about it, Potter?”

“Perhaps,” Professor Snape interrupted coldly as he came toward her, “Mr. Potter wishes to defend his housemate’s honor? We all know how much he enjoys being heroic.”

The malice in her father’s words was a direct contradiction to the gentleness of his actions. As he spoke, he knelt beside her, placing his hand softly over hers. Wordlessly and wandlessly, he healed her hand, his magic washing over her soothingly. Once healed, he helped her stand, then brought her over to the side.

“What do you say, Potter?” he asked Harry, who had remained glaring at her father from his place in the audience.

It was a challenge as much as it was a hidden request. Her dad’s hands were still on her arms, she felt his muscles tensing as he looked at Draco’s smug face. A smugness that momentarily faltered as he met his godfather’s gaze.

Without a word, Harry took the stage.

“Remember, disarm only !” Professor Lockhart reminded them with emphasis, looking more and more nervous as the two young wizards stared at one another.

Draco barely flicked his hand as he whispered something, and a large snake shot from the end of his wand.

She would later blame the effects of pain and fear for not recalling what happened after that. Professor Lockhart, against her father’s better judgment, attempted to Vanish the snake. Instead, it got larger. It turned toward her, and she shifted behind her father. A strange hissing sound made her peek out from behind him, and she saw Harry speaking to the snake as it found more interesting prey in a Hufflepuff.

It hadn’t occurred to Aurora before that Slytherin’s Heir could be in a different house. After all, the way Draco had been acting after the incident with Colin, the whispers she had heard from Harry, Ron, and Hermione when they didn’t notice her in the common room, she’d begun to think Draco really was some kind of Slytherin Prince.

But Draco didn’t talk to snakes, not like that. And he was terrified of Harry, much like everyone else at that moment.

Including, from what she could discern, her father.

—————A—————

“Just tell me, Hermione!” she heard her father’s exasperated plea from down the hall, and the sound of it brought Aurora to the door of her bedroom in her father’s chambers. She opened it softly so she could hear the conversation. The sitting room wasn’t far away, and the conversation became clearer.

“Severus, you know I would if I could,” her mother pleaded, desperate and upset. “I can only tell you that you don’t have to worry about Harry.”

“He spoke to the snake! The bloody snake! Merlin knows what he told it to do …”

“I think … it’s been ages, but if memory serves me right, he told it to back away. To not hurt anyone. And honestly, if you should be upset with anyone, it should be Draco!”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Her father was clearly sneering, that tone could mean nothing else. “I’ve already had a lovely Floo conversation with Lucius and Narcissa about his behavior. I’m sure he’ll put on a show for those who ask, but he’s been barred from returning home and accompanying them on their little vacation to Venice. And he’ll be getting a letter, a strongly worded one, about making amends to her.”

“You’re still convinced they’ll be discussing marriage when she’s of age,” her mother said, sounding more amused than before.

“Without a doubt. Three more years and Lucius will be doing his utmost to convince us it is the best way to raise our status amongst purebloods.” Her father scoffed. “As if that is actually something that matters.”

“But we aren’t considering it, are we? Rory should be able to choose for herself, and I’m fairly certain that Draco…”

“I agree, but if the Dark Lord returns, we’ll need to keep up appearances. Dumbledore has always believed it will happen. Though he may have other motives for how he wants us to live.”

There was silence, save for what sounded like soft footsteps.

“He’s always done what he thinks is necessary. With me, you, the Order. And not everyone agrees. He’s a great man, a wise man, but that doesn’t mean every decision or thought he has is great and wise. And aren’t we lucky that those who really matter see that as well as we do?”

“We are,” she said, and Aurora tried not to cringe when she heard the smacking sound of a kiss.

“The Heir of Slytherin is not in Gryffindor,” he stated. Silence. “Good. At least I can rest a little easier for now. Having Rory in another house is harder to deal with than I thought, even with Min as her Head of House. Merlin help us if she’d ended up in Hufflepuff.”

“We still have another child to be sorted, you know.”

“Don’t tempt fate, witch!” he scolded, and her mother laughed heartily.

And then she wasn’t laughing and Aurora’s instincts told her that the sounds that came afterward were not ones she wanted to understand.

—————H—————

January 9, 1975

Hermione bit her lip as she headed to the classroom Severus had nearly destroyed before Christmas. She knew he would be there this evening, knew he was giving another go at his pain relief adaptation, since he had made some very pointed comments about not bringing him distraction. But she’d barely seen him outside of classes today and she was hardly going to slip him his present while taking notes.

Lily had told her about the day by accident. No sooner had term resumed had Lily complained about her birthday being on a Thursday, and how the previous year James had accidentally ratted out her own party in the Divination classroom. She also mentioned how she had wanted it to be a dual celebration with Severus, whose birthday was exactly three weeks before her own, but always too close to the start of term for them to have planned anything.

Basic math did the rest for Hermione.

When she was with the McGonagalls over the holidays, she’d asked Bob if there was any chance she could take some potions ingredients and work them off over the Easter hols. He’d smiled, waved her toward the greenhouse and teased her about not taking too much.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d wager that he knew who she was getting them for. But then again, Professor McGonagall—Minerva—had been writing them as much as she had. Perhaps they all behaved as grown-ups typically did about opposite sex friendships. Merlin knew her own parents, intellectuals though they were, were always taunting her about whether it was Ron or Harry that was her boyfriend.

The ingredients weren’t meant to be a birthday present, but she couldn’t resist the timing. But now, timing was her problem, and she wasn’t sure just when she should do it. Or how. Or if she even should at all.

“Oh suck it up, Hermione,” she scolded herself in a whisper. “This is Severus, not Professor Snape. The worst he can do is call you a mean name or berate you. And even if he does, it’s not like it should bother you. He can’t take house points.” And with that, she summoned a little Gryffindor courage and headed inside.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming in,” Severus greeted her. “Lurking in the hallway as you were.”

“You knew I was there?” Hermione felt her cheeks color, and was thankful Severus was still focused on the cauldron in front of him. His face was hidden behind his hair, only the tip of his nose visible.

“I have a warning system, yes. I need enough time to Vanish everything if need be. It has not happened yet, Madam Pomfrey has long suspected what I get up to here and won’t rat me out unless I’m doing something too dangerous. Any other professor ….” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Professor McGonagall wouldn’t say anything,” Hermione said, wondering whether or not that was true. She hadn’t gotten in trouble for her own recreational brewing, and what she’d done was technically illegal. Somehow, she doubted the staff remained ignorant of it after the way Professor Snape laughed upon seeing her.

“Can’t take the risk,” he said, slowly withdrawing the stirring rod and setting it aside. “You actually came at the perfect time. I only have to wait for the color to shift so I know I have it right, and then I just need to wait for it to cool so I can bottle it.” He leaned on the desks behind him. “I doubt you want help with History or Charms, so why have you graced me with your presence?” He looked up at her then, and Hermione noticed the black eye he sported.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“This?” He casually gestured to his face. “A birthday gift from your exalted housemates. I can’t prove it was them, of course. I couldn’t see them. I was heading to dinner when I tripped, then Stupefied. I imagine they would’ve done more damage, but Lestrange came by. He’s a prefect, he could easily deduct points and report them to McGonagall for detention. I imagine they didn’t want to risk it. If Black hadn’t laughed when kicking me in the face, I wouldn’t have been so sure myself.”

“And you didn’t bother to go to Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked.

Severus glared and turned away. “It’s letting them win, isn’t it? She’d report the injury to Dumbledore, and he’d sweep it under the rug, as always.”

Hermione wasn’t sure that would’ve been the case, but then she considered that nothing had been done to set the Marauders straight before. She shook her head and sighed, frustrated that her friend was getting bullied and no one was stopping it.

“Hermione,” he said, a touch exasperated. There wasn’t any malice in his eyes. “Let it go. You already know I’m more than capable of taking care of them, so long as they don’t play dirty. And this has been going on from the moment they entered our compartment our very first year. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to stop them now.”

Her shoulders drooped and she diverted her eyes, lest he mock her for being emotional.

“You came for a reason,” he said again.

She nodded. She shifted the box in her hand and gave it to him. “Happy birthday.”

He took it gingerly, glancing at her uncertainly as he turned and placed the box on the desk and opened it. His eyes bulged, which had to hurt, though he didn’t show it. “Hermione,” he breathed, his hand running along the jars. “There are … easily … twenty Galleons worth of ingredients in here.”

She blushed again. “I have an arrangement with the Herbologist who grew them.”

He arched a brow. “Do I want to know?”

She stepped forward and smacked his arm.

“Git,” she said while resisting the urge to laugh. “He’s a stepfather of sorts. That’s a horrid thing to joke about.”

“You didn’t say what the arrangement was. Anyone else would assume the same thing.” She merely huffed, knowing from their short acquaintance that he could continue twisting her words to his heart’s content if she tried to explain.

“Thank you,” he said after a short silence. She peeked at him, and she could see how grateful he was by the glint in his eye. “Truly, it’s … it’s honestly the most meaningful gift I’ve ever been given.”

That made her heart soar and ache all at once. For potions ingredients to be meaningful, despite there being only one or two more expensive or difficult to acquire within the box, was both wonderful and terrible. It reflected his passion for brewing, but it also revealed how little he’d been given.

“You’re quite welcome,” she said, meaning it deeply. Even if it meant working the entire hols without any other reward for her efforts.

—————A—————

December 24, 1992

Never would a Snape admit they were lonely, and Aurora was a Snape. That had been made abundantly clear to her.

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing, following us?” Ron Weasley demanded, stopping on the stairs that led to Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Hermione stopped as well, the latter crossing her arms and glaring at Ron while Harry shifted sheepishly.

“I need to get a book,” she replied, having forgotten her Potions book in her trunk upstairs. Her very special Potions book that had once been her father’s and had the very start of his corrections scribbled in the margins. And while she would never, ever be stupid enough to use his notes on an essay for his class, she did like the reminder that not everything written was sacred.

“Right, so you just happened to be following us. Waiting to see if we’re up to something to rat us out to your father.”

“ Ronald !” Hermione hissed.

“I don’t trust her,” Ron said firmly. “She shouldn’t have been put in Gryffindor. She belongs in the dungeons with the other snakes.”

“That’s enough, Ron,” Harry snapped. “I’ve known Rory longer than I’ve known you.”

“And you never talk to her. I don’t see you asking her to tag along.”

“You don’t ask Ginny, either,” Harry countered. When Ron’s flared nostrils and the wrinkled bridge of his nose did not soften, Harry sighed. “Think you could give us, like, a three-minute head start, Rory?”

She looked at Hermione, but her eyes were on the floor, her cheeks puffed as though she were ready to explode. Harry pleaded with his eyes, begging her quietly to keep the peace.

“‘Kay.” Aurora even backed down the stairs and waited at the bottom.

“Sorry, Aurora,” Hermione said sincerely as the boys took off. “But, well ….” She shrugged, glancing at the boys before turning back at her.

Yeah, Aurora understood. She was a Snape, Snapes had a hard time making friends, including the ones who married into the name. And while this Hermione Granger was not the witch Aurora looked up to and admired, she knew full well that those two were the only friends she had at the moment and wasn’t willing to lose them.

Aurora was sure she had some of her mother’s fierce loyalty, if only she was given a chance to show it. Ginny was nice when she wanted to socialize, but she was also the only one from their year who had made any effort to talk to her. Not that that mattered much at the moment, with the majority of the school gone for the holidays.

Aurora had always spent Christmas at Hogwarts, though in her father’s rooms, with her mother and brother. But they hadn’t arrived yet, and with Draco forced to stay for the holidays, his cronies had to stay with him and that meant her father had to appear much more available.

So no hiding there.

No, she had to stay in the Gryffindor common room, sitting by the cold window, keeping as much distance between herself and the “golden trio” as possible. She didn’t even bother with the pretense of a book, she merely stared out the window and watched the snow fall outside.

“Not much fun over here by yourself,” Fred Weasley’s voice caused Aurora to yelp, and twin laughter surrounded her as each brother squeezed in beside her.

“Keep this up, people will think you’re a bat like your dear ol’ dad, won’t they, Gred?”

“You said it, Forge.”

“And exactly what am I going to do instead?” she asked.

“Play Gobstones with us,” said Fred.

“Though they might be a trick set,” George teased.

“Much worse than putrid goo may come out.”

“You do know that my grandmother was the captain of the Hogwarts team?” Aurora asked, feeling stupid for mentioning her family at all.

“All the better!” George exclaimed.

“You may take it seriously,” Fred said formally.

“And not just think it child’s play.”

“Which it is.”

“But what’s the fun of life—”

“—if you can’t act a bit childish?”

Aurora smiled. The twins had always been kind, but they had never gone out of their way to speak to her before. “Sure you wanna play with a firstie?”

“Better than playing with that git,” Fred said as he threw a thumb toward Ron who happened to be looking.

“Always whines when he loses.” George shook his head.

“And maybe Ginny might come out of her room if she knows you’re playing too.”

Aurora took a deep breath. “All right,” she relented, feeling shy and nervous and unsure all at once. “Let’s play.”

“Brilliant,” the twins said together in such a way that Aurora wondered if the whole thing was a setup.

Bully for them, she had only ever lost a couple games to her grandmother. Aside from that, she was undefeated, and she wasn’t going to lose that title now.

—————H—————

February 14, 1975

“It’s so pretty!” Lily exclaimed as she and Hermione entered the Great Hall.

“It’s ghastly,” Hermione replied, taking in the pink walls, the fluttering hearts that (thankfully) disappeared before they made their way to the tables. She swore that she could hear birdsong as well, chirps and tweets as if it somehow made everything more … something. Romantic? Disgusting was more like it.

“God, you sound like Sev.” Lily rolled her eyes. “Well, come on. The mail will be here sooner than we think.”

“Well, yes,” Hermione agreed as she allowed Lily to pull her along. “Though I’m not quite sure—”

She didn’t continue as she realized why Lily was so thrilled about the morning post. Having been friends with Ron and Harry, as well as years of being ignored before Hogwarts, had decimated any and all expectations Hermione could have had for the holiday.

She sat at the table between Lily and Alice, both already eagerly chatting with Marlene and a third-year named Mary about the post. Hermione thought to wait them out, breakfast the only time she really spoke to her dormmates. She grabbed her toast, a bit of fruit, chewed on a piece of bacon, and prepared a cup of tea, and still the conversation hadn’t changed. With a sigh, she removed her Ancient Runes text from her bag to brush up on the assigned reading.

“Getting in some last-minute homework, Kitten?” Sirius asked from his seat a few people away.

“No, merely refreshing my memory.”

“She can’t annoy Snivellus if she doesn’t have the answer ready before him,” James added, and Hermione peered at him to see his attention was entirely on a grinning Sirius. “I think he downright hates being second best, if he was every really best to begin with. It’s the best thing about Granger.”

I’m right here, you know , she thought to herself, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Some days the differences between James and Harry made her question her friend’s paternity. Maybe Harry was fathered by someone under the Polyjuice Potion? Well, no, that couldn’t be it … unless it was James who took the potion and somehow tricked Lily into sleeping with … someone. What would the characteristics be under such circumstances? She’d have to ask Severus, maybe he would know or would be interested in finding out.

“Oh, look!” Marlene gushed, and Hermione lost her appetite from the sheer sweetness of it. She didn’t even look to see the various shades of red and pink fluttering down. A regular post owl landed in front of her, offered her a letter, and then left.

It looked as disgruntled as Hermione felt.

“Oh! That’s a boring one. Did Sev make you one, too?” Lily asked, and Hermione glanced over to see the ginger resting her hand on a small pile of papers.

“Er, no. It’s a letter from Delia,” she replied, frowning. All of the envelopes beneath Lily’s hand were bright Gryffindor red. “Did he make you one?”

“He always has, though it hasn’t come yet,” Lily insisted, a near pitying smile replacing her genuine joy for a moment. “It’s probably because he doesn’t know you well yet.”

“And you’re new,” Marlene added distractedly from behind a card.

“I don’t really care,” Hermione lied.

No, she didn’t care about her lack of cards, with that sole exception. She didn’t want to dwell too much on why it mattered, but she was sure it was because they had developed a true, honest friendship. And while he and Lily were friends … well, he did have a crush on her. Probably still did. Maybe more of an infatuation. Pretty girls like Lily were hard not to fall for.

“I made you one, Kitten,” Sirius pointed out smugly, pointing in front of Hermione. She looked down by her plate and noticed the single red envelope, as well as the glare from Marlene.

She picked up the Valentine and tossed it back to Sirius. “I’d actually rather take Lily’s pity.”

Lily stammered out a protest but was cut off before she could try to deny it.

“I’m ready to head to Runes if you are.” Severus’ voice was more welcome than Hermione wanted to admit, and she barely held in her sigh of relief.

“Oh, let the lady have a day without you and your beak butting in,” James groaned. “Slither back to the dungeons, and maybe Granger could enjoy some proper company.”

“I thought that’s what I was about to do,” Hermione said as she shouldered her bag. She gestured toward the door with her head, and Severus nodded.

“Sev?” Lily caught his attention. He arched a brow, and Lily bit her lip, glancing toward the Marauders. “Did you have something for me?”

“You can’t be worried about missing notes from Defense? It’s the same class as last year,” he replied.

“You wouldn’t want his notes anyway,” James said, earning a scowl from Lily. “There wouldn’t be anything about Defense in them.”

Everyone except Sirius and Peter ignored James’ terrible shot at Severus while Lily turned back to him.

“No, I meant … something else … pertaining to the day?”

“And what would that be?” he asked, not at all cruelly.

“Oh, please.” James slammed his hands down on the table and got to his feet, sneering at Severus. Hermione noticed his wand was in his hand and that Sirius was no longer laughing but was watching for the right moment to intervene. “You’ve given Lily a Valentine every year for the last three years. Cheap. Handmade. Some parchment with your grease prints all over it. You rambled about her silken hair, her shining eyes, and her glowing smile.”

“James,” Lily growled, and he paused.

“You’re absolutely horrid, James Potter,” Hermione sneered, taking advantage of his silence.

“I don’t need you defending me,” Severus snapped out, but Hermione continued.

“Honestly, if you were half the man—”

“Granger!” Severus growled, his cold black eyes meeting Hermione’s as she turned toward him. But it wasn’t him that silenced her. Enraged by the cruelty of absolutely no one, not even the prefects, was stepping in to stop James, Hermione had forgotten about the Vow. It stopped her from saying anything about Harry, but her mind was in a loop even as her airway closed off. It kept looping the comparisons between father and son and she wanted to point them out even as her heart started racing and stuttering. Her lips tried to form words that the Vow prevented, and she couldn’t stop it.

It was probably because his eyes were on hers that Severus was the first to notice something wrong. The cold anger gave way to concern and then to fear as she clawed at his arm.

“Hermione?”

She’d seen that look in his eyes before when he, Sirius, and Remus had been arguing, and the werewolf had transformed under the light of the moon. As Remus’ anguished cry had suddenly changed into a growl, terrified obsidian eyes had locked onto hers before he’d spun around and flung his arms out to the sides in a futile attempt to shield them. He was Professor Snape then, but she couldn’t help seeing how they were the same man.

It was the last thought she had before her tunneling vision faded to complete darkness.

—————S—————

Heart hammering, Severus lurched forward and caught Hermione before she hit the ground. Instinctively bringing her head to his chest, he turned to the Marauders. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring, teeth gritted, he hissed, “Aim a little off now, Black?”

“What are you on about Snivellus?” Black sneered, eyes showing concern as they darted between Severus and Hermione.

“Potter, then?” he asked, changing his target. In his peripheral, he saw Lupin moving cautiously toward him, as if approaching a wild animal. It made Severus want to hold Hermione closer and protect her; they’d already done enough damage.

Potter’s cold demeanor didn’t ease his suspicions that they had done something.

“Me … what?” Potter asked through clenched teeth.

“Cursed her,” Severus hissed as shadows came over him.

“Now, now, Mr. Snape. I doubt very much that Messrs. Potter and Black cursed her,” Professor Dumbledore said with that annoyingly kind smile. It did nothing but make Severus’ blood boil, that gentle condescending grin used too often when the bullying and vicious attacks led by the Princes of Gryffindor were excused as ‘boys will be boys.’ It was always used when the headmaster told him ‘don’t provoke them’ or ‘are you sure that’s how it happened, Mr. Snape?’

“But she was fine!” Lily spoke up, her voice shrill as she stared at Hermione with absolute horror. “She was perfectly fine before she started calling James out on his behavior!”

“Her pulse is erratic, Professor,” Lupin commented softly, and Severus hadn’t realized he had taken Hermione’s wrist.

He looked around him, realizing now that all the Gryffindors nearby were on their feet and craning to have a look. Even students as far as his own house were trying to get a peek, though they were sly enough to not stand or blatantly crane their necks. Around him were Dumbledore, Professors McGonagall and Slughorn, and Madam Pomfrey.

McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were the only ones who expressed real concern, though there was something strange in McGonagall’s eye that made Severus think she knew exactly what happened to his friend. Slughorn just looked confused and had probably only left his breakfast because he believed he needed to act as Head of House.

“Let me take her up to the hospital wing, Severus,” Madam Pomfrey said quietly, placing a hand over Severus’, where he held Hermione’s head. He nodded, and once Madam Pomfrey conjured a stretcher, he released his hold on her so the matron could levitate her onto it. Hermione’s hair tickled his hand as she was lifted away, and he ignored the sharp pain that clenched his heart when he noticed her pale skin and purple lips. “You can come see her after classes.”

“She’ll be happy to get the notes she’ll miss,” Lupin commented quietly as Madam Pomfrey guided her out the door, and Severus couldn’t help the snort that escaped.

Yeah, she would be thrilled to have the notes she missed. He didn’t doubt for a moment that her first thought upon waking would be classes. But the fact she was missing them in the first place reminded him that someone was responsible. He turned back to Potter, glaring as his hands balled into fists to prevent himself from pulling his wand out. He was sure a Gryffindor was responsible for Hermione’s condition; he just wasn’t sure which one.

“I assure you, Mr. Snape,” Professor McGonagall said, her brogue thickening with each word, “she wasnae cursed. Go to class, you can see ‘er after.”

He nodded once and left the Great Hall.

“Sev!” Lily called, and Severus stopped. He waited but didn’t turn to watch Lily run toward him, bag dangling off her shoulder, scraps of obnoxiously-colored parchment clutched to her chest. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he replied, confused by her approach. He glanced over his shoulder, having sensed others behind them, and noted Lupin not too far away.

“So.” Lily cleared her throat. “Did you miss the owl post?”

Severus blinked. “For what?”

“You know.” Lily bumped him in the arm with her shoulder.

Yes, he knew.

And maybe if things had been different, he would have once more waxed poetic about all of Lily’s best features, physical or otherwise. He didn’t doubt that he would have forgiven her without pause and continued to worship her for standing him up at the Three Broomsticks. And he would have still been quite infatuated with her.

But things were different.

Lily was not the only light in his life anymore. Nor the brightest.

Hermione Granger was one of the biggest pains in the arse he’d ever met. She had a haughty way of regurgitating textbook information, only these days she waited to be called on before reciting the answer. She had an annoying habit of following things so strictly that it sometimes made Potions exasperating when he knew his way was better and she still mumbled about the instructions under her breath. And, like this morning, and in the Three Broomsticks, she had this terrible Gryffindor streak of barreling into a situation. She would defend him in any way, shape or form she could, even though he didn’t want her to.

But she was also more loyal than Lily had ever been. Her sticking up for him was annoying, and often unnecessary, but he couldn’t forget the tears in her eyes when she visited him in the hospital wing to yell at him after his cauldron exploded. And as much as he felt his pride was wounded, he did appreciate how she had stepped in and pretended it was her he was meeting at the pub. She allowed him to save face in front of the housemates he knew already thought Lily beneath him. And while he had some suspicions about Hermione’s true blood status, he didn’t care. And what the purebloods of his house didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

She was also more interesting to converse with than Lily. She was an intellectual, and Lily was swept away by the typical teenage fantasies and fancies of students their age. Seeing her enter the abandoned classroom with no extra pomp for the Yule Ball had actually cemented for him just how little she was like other girls. Like anyone else, really.

He’d been determined to hate her when he’d first met her, but nothing he said seemed to lessen her opinion of him. And once the insults stopped holding weight, once it was clear she wasn’t around out of pity or because of Lily, he couldn’t help but like her. Reluctantly.

So, after everything that happened, when the day came closer, Severus couldn’t bring himself to put quill to parchment for Lily’s sake. And he thought that Hermione would find the whole holiday as insipid as he did. So, he’d skipped it entirely, hoping the former wouldn’t notice, and the latter would share his opinion.

One for two was clearly as good as he was going to get.

“You have at least a half dozen in your arms. You know what you are to me, you don’t need to add to the written flattery you already have.”

She smiled coyly, chin raising. “And what am I to you, Sev?” she asked with a flutter of her eyelashes.

He was quite impressed that he didn’t blush. At the same time, had things been different, he knew he would have been blushing furiously and stuttering out what she was. What he once thought they might be.

“Lily,” Lupin’s voice came from a slight distance. “You’re going to be late for Care of Magical Creatures. It’s the other way, and if you keep following Severus—”

“Right,” she said, smile fading. “See you in Charms, Sev. Remus.” She darted back the other way, and Severus tensed when he realized he was alone with Lupin.

“Couldn’t wait to get me alone so you could get in the shot you and your friends missed earlier?” Severus said to him over his shoulder, slipping his wand into his hand.

“Making sure James, Peter or Sirius doesn’t try to get you on the way to class,” Lupin replied. Severus turned just a bit toward Lupin, seeing his stalker had stopped when he had. “I agree with you that Hermione was cursed,” Lupin continued, “and she looked … whatever she was hit with, it wasn’t good.” Lupin shifted nervously. “And she said something to me back in November and, well … it stuck with me.”

Severus sneered. “Was it not to follow around the Alpha idiots like a good little dog?”

“Something like that.” Lupin smiled ruefully, and Severus actually managed not to roll his eyes.

“I’m heading to Runes. Don’t hex me in the back, I doubt you’d be able to handle me on your own,” Severus said as he walked away.

“I don’t doubt it,” Lupin replied, and Severus let out a groan of distaste at the cheerfulness in his voice.

Chapter Text

—————S—————

February 14, 1975 (continued)

“I can’t imagine how you’ve managed to hold this in all morning, Minerva,” Severus heard Dumbledore faintly out in the main ward of the hospital wing.

Hermione had been placed in a private room, away from anyone who could come up for a sudden onset of stomach cramps or unbearable headache. From the exasperated look Madam Pomfrey had greeted him with when he arrived at the beginning of lunch, it had been happening quite a bit since she brought Hermione into the hospital wing that morning. The matron had directed him to her room, warned him that Hermione still hadn’t regained consciousness and promptly forgot he was there. Which was fine by him, as he intended to stay until he had to leave for Arithmancy later in the afternoon. And even going to that was debatable.

As a result, he doubted the supposedly omnipresent headmaster had any idea there was a student within hearing distance, listening to their conversation.

“I’ve been holdin’ it in ‘cause you’ve been avoiding me, Albus. I agreed to the Vow, but I didnae think ye’d be so vicious with it,” Professor McGonagall shouted.

“Not vicious. Thorough. If Riddle were to learn what she does—”

“Donae start with that,” McGonagall cut the headmaster off. “How’d he’d ever get holda her?” Whatever Dumbledore said after that was too soft to hear through the closed door, but the sharp clap of a palm against skin made Severus sit up straighter. McGonagall said something else too low to make out, but there was a hissing quality to her voice that led Severus to believe the headmaster was being lectured.

He was also satisfied with the thought that the Transfiguration teacher had slapped the headmaster.

Shadows blocked out the light under the door and Severus cleared his mind so he could pretend he hadn’t overheard their conversation. It always helped him lie. He turned his attention entirely on the Arithmancy book in front of him, blocking out the quiet grumbling on the other side of the door.

A snort had his act shattered in an instant. Turning toward the bed fast enough to pop something in his neck, he took in Hermione’s groggy smirk with a surge of relief.

He immediately put on his best scowl. “Exactly what did you think you were doing, falling unconscious as you did?”

“Did I ruin your day?” she taunted with a scratchy voice.

“Lupin has been shadowing me from a distance all morning,” he sneered. “What exactly did you say to him to get him to follow me around like a lost puppy?”

“I didn’t say anything to him,” Hermione said as she tried to sit up.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and firmly pushed her back down. “It’s not what he said.”

“Then I don’t remember,” Hermione replied as she weakly tried to resist him. “Why won’t you let me up?”

“Probably because you came so close to death this morning you made my complexion look downright radiant. You aren’t getting up until Pomfrey says you aren’t going to keel over.”

There was a gentle rap on the door and it opened to reveal the headmaster and a harried-looking Head of Gryffindor.

“Mr. Snape, shouldn’t you be in class?” Dumbledore asked.

“I have a free period, sir,” he replied, doing his best to be civil.

“Ah, well, perhaps you should—”

“Albus,” McGonagall hissed as she went to Hermione’s side.

Dumbledore stared at her, then conceded with a nod. He looked at Hermione. “Miss Granger, I trust you understand what happened?”

“Yes, sir,” she croaked.

“Good. Perhaps, in the future, you will be more careful to not trigger your condition?” He arched a brow and Severus noted Hermione’s eyes darkening.

“Of course,” she said, a bit too sweetly.

Dumbledore nodded once more. “I will have Poppy come and check on you.” And with a sweep of his disgustingly bright pink robes, he left the room.

“Miss Granger, Hermione, let me assure you that if I thought, for a moment, that what—”

Hermione’s hand shot out and gripped McGonagall’s wrist with surprising strength. “I know,” she rasped. “But let’s not—”

“Right.” McGonagall put her hand over Hermione’s and nodded. The professor then turned to Severus with a gratitude and kindness he’d never seen from anyone in his life. “Mr. Snape, twenty-five points to Slytherin. I’d hate to think of what might have happened had Hermione actually collapsed during … her attack.”

Severus couldn’t do more than blink for a full minute. He’d been awarded house points. Outside the classroom. For being there for his friend.

“Thank you,” he managed to get out. It was the only thing that came to mind. And before he felt the need to search for something more, Madam Pomfrey came in and looked Hermione over.

“Whatever happened doesn’t seem to have any lasting effects,” she stated. “And I’m sorry, Minerva, but I can’t find the reason behind it. I have a suspicion, but I can’t imagine the reason for it.”

“Thank you, Poppy,” McGonagall said, letting go of Hermione. “We should go to your office and have some tea. We can discuss your suspicions there.”

The two women left the room, Madam Pomfrey closing the door only part way before she and McGonagall disappeared.

“I assume I missed classes; did you take notes?” Hermione asked once they were alone.

Severus laughed. Out of relief, and because he’d been right to assume that would be what she focused on after her ordeal. He laughed because, after being at death’s door, Hermione Granger was so steadfast that her studies were still her priority.

“I have notes, you bloody swot. But maybe wait until you don’t rival the Bloody Baron in complexion before diving into your studies.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he merely shook his head. And if he felt a twinge of fondness for her, well, perhaps one of those annoying flying cupids had nicked him in passing.

—————A—————

February 14, 1993

Aurora looked at the disgusting scarlet pieces of paper in front of her that she’d yet to open. If she had to guess, the majority of them were attempts at buying her father’s favor. Give Aurora Snape a Valentine and maybe Professor Snape will go the day without saying anything mean or excuse a lack of homework. As if that would work.

“Well,” Ginny asked morosely, pushing her peas around her plate. “Are you going to open them?”

“I’m not sure I should,” Aurora replied.

Ginny huffed. “You’re one of the only first years who has any.”

That wasn’t exactly a reason, but Aurora had noticed a few of the other first years looking at the envelopes that had been following her around. She’d even tried to leave them in her father’s class, hoping they would suddenly find themselves on fire, but they had continued to float behind her after class. The sheer number had him scowling upon her entrance, and she could hear the sneer in the scoff when the little envelopes followed her out the door.

Plucking the first one from the stack, Aurora looked at the writing on the front. She didn’t recognize it, nor did she recognize the next three. She thought the fifth might be from Seamus Finnegan, but that wasn’t comforting or reassuring.

“I don’t know anyone’s handwriting.”

“Are you sorting them, then?” Hermione Granger asked from a few seats down. Aurora nodded, and Hermione gave her a knowing grin. “Move your wand like this.” She showed her the movement. “And say Amicus Revelare.”

“Amicus Revelare,” Aurora repeated, following the wand movement before tapping the cards. They shook, then sorted themselves out into two distinct piles: three cards, and then the rest. It didn’t take much of a guess to figure out which pile was the one of genuine Valentines.

She picked up the first card.

Aurora,

Perhaps on this particular day, we can bury our animosities and focus once more on strengthening a union sought since our birth.

With warmest regards,

Draco

Aurora snorted. “Honestly,” she said, looking over at the Slytherin table. Draco was laughing at something, and from the way they were carrying on, she’d wager that Ginny’s musical Valentine (one Aurora tried so hard to convince her not to send) was still being mocked. Shaking her head, she tossed the card onto the brownnoser pile.

She pulled the next one out.

Rory,

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Harry

The boy in question wasn’t around, so she thought she’d thank him for it later the same way he thanked her for hers: a slight grin and a nod. She quickly slipped the card into the middle of the pile before Ginny saw it and became more downtrodden or wanted nothing to do with her. She grabbed the last letter.

Your mother and I were not big fans of this holiday during our school years, so if it fills you with a bit of nausea, know it’s a familial trait.

Aurora laughed at that one, her father’s spiky handwriting a welcome sight. She knew why he’d done it, though he would never admit it: he didn’t want her to feel left out.

She glanced up at the head table and smiled fondly at her father. He was deep in a conversation with Aunt Min, both glancing at Professors Lockhart and Dumbledore, who smiled much more broadly than necessary.

She tucked the envelope into her robes. “Anyone know a Vanishing spell or can control an Incendio ?”

“I’ll do it!” Seamus jumped up excitedly. There was a commotion of people clamoring to get him to sit back down, and during that, the pile disappeared.

Startled, Aurora looked around to find who did it. When she looked at the head table, she realized her father wasn’t there anymore. Turning slightly, she caught him on his way out through the staff entrance, a slight smirk curling his lips.

But not a second later, something in her mind clicked. It had niggled her mind all day, she was sure there was something really strange about Ginny’s Valentine, aside from comparing his eyes to a pickled toad. Watching her father leave made her remember why she had felt such unease.

“Ginny,” she whispered, looking around as she leaned in to ensure no one was listening. “Why did you refer to—to You-Know-Who as the Dark Lord?”

Ginny blushed to her roots, her brown eyes going wide. “I just read it somewhere. And it rhymed.”

A bad feeling curled in Aurora’s gut and she averted her eyes as she started to speculate.

March 27, 1993

Aurora watched Ginny watch Harry eat his dinner with an intensity that screamed of fear more than childish admiration. It was almost as if at any moment she thought that Harry would hex her. She wasn’t quite sure why, Ginny hadn’t been talkative or friendly since Valentine’s Day.

With a heavy sigh, she finished her homework and thought it best to head up to the dormitory. There wasn’t anything else to do. No one to talk to.

Well, except Hagrid, she was sure he would still welcome her with open arms. And if that’s how she would survive her Hogwarts education, she supposed there were worse things than hanging out only with adults.

She was just outside of the main doors when she stopped suddenly at the sight of a blonde girl laying on her back, arms out to the side, legs splayed awkwardly. Aurora’s heart stopped and then sped up to a painful speed. She glanced around, seeing no one else around. She thought of turning back around and getting her father, but a little voice in her head told her to suck it up and check things herself. She didn’t need to run to daddy for everything; she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

At first, Aurora was shaking when she saw that the girl’s blue eyes were open, but when the girl blinked, Aurora understood that she wasn’t another victim of the Slytherin monster. She paused, wondering if maybe she should get Aunt Poppy.

“Have you ever noticed there’s a map of the stars and planets on the ceiling?” the girl asked suddenly, and Aurora recognized her as Luna Lovegood. “I imagine you spent a lot of time here as a child. Did you ever just look up at the ceiling?”

Aurora came a little closer, looking around again before awkwardly sitting on the floor beside Luna. “Er, just in my room. I mean, the room in my dad’s—Professor Snape’s—chambers. It, er, well it didn’t have a map of the stars or anything.” She frowned. “It was … a raven. A glowing image of a raven and a lioness. The raven flew, making a figure eight around the lioness and she played with it, trying to bat at it or catch it in her mouth. They were always blue, like a—”

“Like a Patronus,” Luna said, a dreamy smile coming over her petite face. “That’s actually quite lovely. Probably a representation of your parents.”

“Yeah,” Aurora said. After glancing around again, she decided to join Luna on the floor.

She was right: engraved in the gold stone ceiling were clear images of the solar system. It was massive, showing the sun in the center, the planets around it, the position of all the constellations.

“It’s enchanted,” Luna said. “The planets have shifted since I first noticed. I’m always too sleepy to go to Astronomy and really pay attention, so sometimes I come down here and look up to have a better understanding of what Professor Sinistra talked about.”

“You would think it would be the founders up there. Or the house symbols,” Aurora said thoughtfully.

“This is much better, I think,” Luna said serenely.

Aurora heard the distinct steps long before the person came close. She tilted her head and shifted her eyes as much as she could to see her father looming over them with a scowl on his face.

“Miss Lovegood, Miss Snape, why are you laying on the floor?” he asked.

“We’re studying the planets and the stars,” Aurora replied, and then added a hasty, “Sir.”

“And how does one do that in daylight, inside, in the Entrance Hall?”

“The ceiling, Professor Snape,” Luna said without a care, pointing upward. “But I suppose it’s not the best thing to do when people are bound to come by.” She got up, and Aurora quickly moved to do the same.

Professor Snape scowled. “Ten points from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.” Aurora’s cheeks heated at the loss. “You can explain to your housemates why you lost points. I imagine that’s punishment enough without adding detention.”

“Yes, sir,” Aurora said, bowing her head.

“Of course, professor. Given what has transpired this year, it was unwise to do it,” Luna conceded, though she didn’t sound the least bit contrite. She then turned to Aurora. “Would you like to come with me on a walk around the grounds? The Wrackspurts really don’t like the coolness lingering on the grounds, so the walk will clear your head.”

Aurora shrugged and allowed Luna to lead the way. At this rate, a friend was a friend.

She glanced over her shoulder to say something to her dad but didn’t dare to when she saw him looking up at the ceiling as though he’d never seen it before.

May 8, 1993

“Harry.” Aurora kept her voice low, trying not to draw attention now that she finally had a moment with him without Ron at his side. She was shaking, though tried to hide it. “I … er … I was wondering if maybe I could, er, borrow your, ah, cloak.”

Harry frowned. “My cloak?”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling at one of her loose curls. “You know the one that makes you, er, not noticed?”

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he looked frantically around while leaning in and asking, “How do you know about that?”

Aurora arched a brow in such a perfect imitation of her father that Harry visibly flinched. “Ron isn’t very good at keeping things to himself. Ginny told me about it, said she heard all about it from Ron, who told Fred and George. Or something like that. I didn’t tell Dad,” she rushed to add when Harry looked apprehensive. “But I just … I want to go see him.”

“Rory, it’s not safe,” Harry said, though she could tell by his tone that that was not at all the reason he was saying no. He shifted as she continued to stare at him, and then eventually sighed. He leaned toward her. “Promise me this won’t get back to your dad.”

“Of course,” she said immediately.

“Ron and I … we’re going to go see Hagrid after dark.”

“Hagrid?” Aurora frowned. “Why? It can’t be for his rock cakes. I lost my first two teeth trying to eat one of those.” The memory of her two front teeth missing made her shift uncomfortably. The Muggle kids had teased her relentlessly for it.

“We think … we think he knows something about the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry confessed, glancing around again to make sure they weren’t listening.

Aurora snorted. “Doubtful. Hagrid was a Gryffindor, and—”

“He was expelled fifty years ago; around the same time the Chamber was last closed,” Harry hurried to explain.

Aurora paled at the thought, refusing to even entertain the idea. Yes, Hagrid had a thing for ‘misunderstood creatures,’ but he wouldn’t unleash something that caused so much damage.

“I don’t want to believe it, either,” Harry assured her. “But it’s all too coincidental.”

“Yeah ….” A heaviness settled in her chest before she took in a deep breath. “I won’t be long, an hour at most.”

He sighed, then smiled. “All right. Give me a moment, but don’t put it on in here, slip it on outside.”

—————A—————

Once Aurora had the cloak in place, she ran for the hospital wing. She met no one on the way and while she was terrified of what could be lurking around the corner, she didn’t slow down for anything. The door to the hospital wing was open just a crack and after a quick glance around to make sure no one was there, she took off the cloak and went inside.

She wasn’t at all surprised to see her dad sitting beside the bed with a Petrified Hermione Granger on it.

He didn’t glance up as she approached, but he opened his arm for her to come and tuck herself into his side like she used to when she was younger.

“I can’t think of her as your mother.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as though he were worried he’d disturb the girl. “There’s a disconnect. This Hermione is an entirely different one from the girl I met my fourth year. But she looks enough like you … it’s as though she’s a relative, a niece or a cousin. But it’s moments like this …”

“But she’ll be all right. She came to you.”

“She did, does, will.” He was quiet again. “Lucius has managed to get Professor Dumbledore fired. Avoid Draco, if you can. Between that and this happening to Hermione, he’ll be insufferable.”

She nodded, and they remained quiet, drawing comfort from each other.

“I’m worried about Ginny,” she said after a while.

He frowned. “Miss Weasley? I’m afraid I don’t know Ginevra Weasley well. Why are you worried about her?”

“She’s always been sort of quiet,” Aurora explained. “Ron Weasley likes reminding her that he’s older and friends with Harry. She sort of just … lets him do it. The twins, they tease her too. Well, not tease really, but they don’t help. They’re nice, really, but—”

“Rory,” her father interrupted her rambling, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Right. Well, Ginny had this diary that she would write in every night. But I think it’s cursed. It feels weird to me.”

“Weird how?” The glint of amusement was starting to fade as he processed her words.

“Like the locked bookcase in your study,” she said quietly. “Only it’s one book that feels like all of yours. Not long after the start of term, she got rid of it. But she isn’t… better. She was nervous and distant. And she watches Harry like a hawk. I don’t know how, but it’s like she was addicted to it. She spent all her free time writing in it, and—I can’t explain it.”

“Albus, what are you keeping from me,” he mumbled under his breath. He was lost in thought for a moment, and then looked at Aurora. “Five points from Gryffindor and detention with me Monday night.”

“But—but—what did I lose points for now?”

“For leaving the tower when I know Min told you not to. I know you wanted to see Miss Granger, and I wager you knew I would be here, but it’s extremely dangerous for you to be wandering the halls. Miss Clearwater is a half-blood like you, and she’s in the same state as the Muggle-borns. Your mother got lucky, as did every other person in this room.”

He didn’t have to say anything else; she knew what he wasn’t saying.

—————H—————

March 26, 1975

“You know you’ve worked off what you owe for your boyfriend’s ingredients as of Tuesday night, right?” Bob asked with a smug smile as he stood opposite the plant box Hermione had been working in.

“Severus is not my boyfriend,” she said absently, having already heard about a half dozen veiled taunts from Delia since getting off the train Saturday.

“Right. So, you give potions ingredients to all your friends?” he asked, the grin growing.

Hermione snorted. “If my other friend had an interest in potions aside from what they can do for her hair and skin, maybe I’d consider it. As it is, Lily was quite happy with the perfume I made her from some of Delia’s lavender.”

Bob’s shoulders shook before he stopped and looked thoughtful. He glanced down at the other end of the greenhouse, making sure that his apprentices were occupied and well out of earshot. Hermione followed his gaze, curious why he suddenly looked so concerned.

“Friend. Singular. So, it’s just you, Severus, and this Lily, is it?”

“Yeah, for the most part. I mean, there’s this other boy, Remus. Ever since my, er, incident, he hasn’t really hung around with us, but he’s hovered. With Severus and me, anyway. And it’s just in the classes he doesn’t share with the idiots he’s friends with.”

And around full moons. But she knew with absolute certainty that he hadn’t lifted his wand once to assist in any hexing or jinxing since she was sent to the hospital wing. And he’d been more vocal about their bullying in general. It hadn’t stopped them from harassing other students, but it was a start. She remembered, vaguely, saying something to him about them in November, but she hadn’t expected him to actually act on it.

But she didn’t feel the need to tell any of this to Bob as the furrow between his brows deepened. “And … is that all right? I mean, I know Delia would be better at this than me, but … I mean, is it fine only having two friends? It’s better than none, I know, but …”

“I only really had two friends before,” Hermione replied, focusing more on the moly she was attending. “It’s quite like before in that way. Dark-haired boy and a ginger for best friends, and I don’t have much in common with the ginger. I get along with the others in my house. I’m adjusting well, if that’s what you’re worried about. Perhaps more than I thought I would.”

“Good. Minnie was worried about you early on. So was Delia. But the more you wrote, the better you sounded.” He paused, seeming to consider something. With a heavy sigh, he said, “We lost another baby, just before you came into our lives. We’ve been trying since we married and nothing magical or Muggle has worked. She just … won’t stay pregnant. And it’s hard for her, having all these nieces and nephews. So, when Min said you needed a place to stay … she knew you were older. Knew you’d already had a mother and a father, but she hoped for a relationship at least stronger than a niece. And if you don’t … if you don’t feel quite as close to us, it’s fine. But we do think of you as a daughter. Been a really short time, but …”

“I understand.” Hermione smiled. “You’re right, I do have parents and I was really close to them. But I never had siblings, and sometimes it feels like Delia is the sister I never had. I know it’s not the relationship you hoped for, and maybe in time we’ll get there. But I do feel like we are family.” She lifted her chin. “I’m quite proud to be an honorary McGonagall.”

Bob grinned devilishly. “Well, perhaps we can pull you away from your Severus and convince you to marry one of Mal’s boys. They’re all still single.”

“Not a chance,” Hermione said firmly.

“Not a chance at marrying you into the family proper or pulling you away from your Severus?” he taunted, and Hermione felt herself blush to her roots in spite of herself. “You make it too easy, my dear.”

“Apparently. Though Severus is not my anything, other than a friend. And there isn’t anything for me to be pulled away from.”

“Hermione,” Delia called out. “I’ve got a letter from Hogwarts for you. Not the neatest writer in the world. Barely made out the scrawl.”

Hermione closed her eyes and groaned, head dropping as Bob burst out laughing.

“Speak of the Devil, as the Muggles say?” Hermione lifted her head to glare at him before taking the letter from Delia as she came up beside her.

“Oh, is that from Severus?” Delia asked as Hermione stood up and brushed her hands on her jeans. “Didn’t go home for the hols?”

Hermione shook his head. “Lily said he never goes home for the holidays. He spends most of his summers away from his house, too.”

Delia looked at Bob with wide pleading eyes, and Hermione looked between the two in confusion as Bob’s amusement shifted to affection. He gave a nod and Delia turned to Hermione with a wide grin.

“Invite him here! For part of the summer, anyway. I imagine he would like to have some time to see his parents.”

Hermione was abruptly reminded of Harry and how much he had dreaded returning to the Dursleys. In fact, come to think of it, she wasn’t entirely sure Severus wasn’t in a similar situation. She’d never heard him speak of his family, and Lily hadn’t said anything to her about it.

“I’ll ask him,” she said, running her fingers over the letter in her hands.

Bob rolled his eyes. “Already said you worked off what you owed, didn’t I? Go take a break. Let Prewitt and Scamander work for once.”

“Robert,” Delia warned, but Hermione could tell that even she thought Hermione’s urge to read the letter was due to some imagined romance.

“You’re both impossible,” Hermione said in a sing-song voice as she left the greenhouse and headed to the main house. She took the stairs to her bedroom two at a time and flopped onto her bed.

As she opened the letter, a Galleon smacked her on the face.

H.,

Lavender

  Moly

  Asphodel

Mint

  Flux weed

  Thistle

  Thyme

Don’t waste your time getting it all fresh if you don’t have to, I’m sure Mr. McGonagall has stores he can connect me to. And no, it’s not for an experiment.

It’s been blissfully quiet without you constantly mumbling to yourself as you go over notes or textbooks, and I have had more space to spread out books on the desks in the library since making your acquaintance. It has, however, been a bit dull with no one to mock for being so keen on absorbing the written word.

Until Sunday,

Snape

Hermione snorted as she set down the letter. She missed him too, though she would have just told him. And exactly what was he thinking, using her as an apothecary? Did he have any idea the taunting she was about to get from Bob over this?

Git.

June 1, 1975

“Hermione, stop studying,” Lily whined, throwing the flower and grass chain she’d just made at her friend’s head. It got caught in her curls and Severus snickered as he pulled it out of her hair.

Hermione, firmly panicking over the exams starting the following day, didn’t bother to look up from her textbook. “I can’t. What if there’s something on the exam I don’t know? Or forgot?”

“Much as I loathe to say it, if it’s something you don’t know or have somehow forgotten, it won’t be on the exam,” Severus replied from where he sat beside her. It had become their usual position at the start of the year, but especially over the last two months. Whenever the trio left the castle to lounge on the grounds to enjoy the warming weather, they would head for the birch tree beside the Black Lake. The wide trunk provided a back rest for Hermione and Severus, who preferred to have the support while they read or write. Lily would either stretch out on the grass in front of them or sit on Severus’ opposite side.

“You don’t understand.” Hermione’s voice raised an octave. “I haven’t had a proper indication of my magical educational progress in two years.” Her heart was pounding, whether from anxiety or the Vow, she wasn’t sure.

“How do you not know?” Lily asked with a chuckle. “You’re passing, obviously. But are your parents not showing you your marks or something?”

Hermione paled, the reminder of her parents causing her stomach to turn and a lump to form in her throat. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about them, but the more time she spent in her new present, the more she accepted she would only see them much further in the future. She was comforted by the fact that they were alive and well, getting on with their life. But the realization that she wouldn’t share exam results with them again, that the last moment of academic accomplishment they got to celebrate was the end of her first year of Hogwarts, made her heart ache.

“Her accident, Lily,” Severus said quietly, and Hermione was grateful he voiced the reminder so she wouldn’t have to. It gave her time to ease the lump in her throat and settle her stomach.

“Oh.” Lily blushed and bit her lip. “Right, sorry.” And then added in confusion, “But that was only last year. What about the year before?”

Hermione contemplated how to answer, knowing that when the time came, Severus would know the truth even if she couldn’t say it now. “Reptile problem,” she said with a shrug. “Sort of … prevented the results from being released that year.”

“But it couldn’t have prevented it for everyone. What about O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s?” Lily demanded. “I mean, you need those, don’t you? To go on to do stuff in the wizarding world?”

“They are important,” Severus replied. “I’m sure there were exceptions made.”

“Probably right. Oh! There’s Marlene, I wanted to ask her something about Divination.” And with that, Lily took off.

Whether he realized it or not, Severus let out a sigh that sounded dangerously like relief at the same time Hermione did. Lily had been around them more and more as of late and while both enjoyed her company, the loom of pending exams and her carefree nature about studying had grated on both their nerves.

Hermione had expected Severus to pull his book back onto his lap once their friend had taken off, but he didn’t move. What was more, Hermione could feel his eyes on her as though he were trying to read her mind.

“I won’t faint,” she said with as much mirth as she could muster. “Honestly, I get like this all the time when it comes to exams. I’m a wreck. When we’re done, I’ll have a lie-in and you’ll find no book in my presence that isn’t for leisure.” She attempted a smile as she looked at him, but noticed his narrowed eyes, and a curious but tentative expression. “What?”

He tilted his head, eyes shifting to look at the lake while his body remained turned toward her.

“I’ve noticed,” he said after a pause, bending one knee and resting his elbow against it, “that there are certain behaviors of yours that are … off.”

“Oh?” she breathed, mouth going dry. Hermione attempted to clear her throat, but her voice was still barely above a whisper. “Like what?”

Severus seemed to debate answering, tapping his finger in the air by his leg. “You’re Muggle-born,” he stated.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, not willing to admit or deny at this point.

“Your clothes,” he started. “When my housemates began to wonder about that, I pointed out that you lived in the Americas. One of the reasons so many purebloods don’t frequent the States is because they are forced to live with Muggles, at least in the more metropolitan areas. There’s a magical community, of course, but witches and wizards dress as the Muggles do. Also, how you talk: ‘my God,’ instead of Merlin. Your ‘magical education,’ whereas even a half-blood would simply say ‘education,’ myself included.”

“So my clothes and the way I speak led you to that conclusion?”

He suddenly looked more nervous than before. “You mentioned, back in September, that your parents … with your teeth. I found that odd. A magical parent wouldn’t think twice about letting their child change something so mundane. Also, the way you speak of your … accident. You are ‘essentially’ orphaned and were placed with a magical family. You never once mentioned your parents were dead, only that you lost them. Which makes me believe the accident was magical, it involved only you and this nonsense of you in Diagon Alley is a cover. I’d guess an accidental Obliviation, but it could be something simpler or far worse. Either way … your parents are alive, and Muggle.”

Hermione stared at him, heart hammering, and it wasn’t because of the Vow. Severus Snape had become an important part of her life in the last nine months: going from the younger version of her snarky, mean-spirited Potions professor, to snarky acquaintance, to one of her dearest friends.

She could deny it, say she was a half-blood and raised Muggle. She could really push the idea about American wizarding world being more Muggle-oriented. She could pretend that her use of certain phrases was also a result of her upbringing. Or she could trust him and let him know he was right.

Slowly, conscious of every breath and beat of her heart, she nodded.

Severus took in a deep breath and turned toward the lake. He stared at it, unfocused, and Hermione’s heart dropped into her stomach.

“And now you hate me,” she said quietly.

“No.” Severus whipped his head back around, strands of hair catching the corner of his mouth as dark, cold eyes bored into hers. They weren’t cruel. Cold though they may be, the fury that tainted them was not meant for her. The desperation, however, was. “Don’t ever think I would hate you over your heritage,” he said softly, his tone one that warned to proceed with caution. “I don’t hate you. But my housemates…”

“There’s a reason,” Hermione supplied, more quietly than even Severus had spoken, “why I haven’t corrected anyone’s assumptions. I know how dangerous it is to be Muggle-born. I was warned when I came to Hogwarts, though I already knew from personal experience. Believe me, Severus, I don’t want the truth to get out. I’m not ashamed of who I am or where I came from, but—”

“I understand. Being a half-blood is still a stigma in Slytherin. And as much as I dislike the notion, having you as a friend has raised my worth in their mind. Granger is a very old name and rare these days, but still respected. Now that my social circles expand beyond a…”

“Mudblood,” Hermione offered.

“Yes.”

“Well.”

“Indeed.”

“So it’s settled. You know my blood status and nothing has changed,” she said with a nod, though she was still mentally crossing her fingers.

Severus smirked. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he drawled. “Because you see, now I feel as though I have an advantage. Not on you, but dunderheads who believe that all purebloods are superior. It was mildly amusing before, when I had the highest marks in our year. But now, it’s even more so.”

Hermione chuckled, bumping him with her shoulder. “I was the top of my own year the last three years.”

“You won’t be here.”

“No?”

“No.”

“There’s a Ravenclaw I can strive to outdo, then?”

“Several, I’m sure, but I have a feeling they aren’t the one holding the highest marks.”

“I doubt anyone in Slytherin is, either.”

“Witch.”

“Git.”

They fell silent with similar smiles, and Hermione was both pleased and baffled by just how much she enjoyed their petty bickering. How much she simply liked being in Severus Snape’s presence. How had she put up with all the Quidditch talk and the endless procrastination? How had she been able to function without a friend like Severus in her life? A tiny bit of guilt wiggled its way in, but she would not allow it to take root. Harry and Ron were great friends, at least when they wanted to be, but she would never be able to have a relationship with them as equals again.

Severus pulled the book he had been reading toward him, using his propped-up knee as a bookstand. And Hermione, feeling closer to him than she ever thought she could be, shifted to lay on the grass with her head on his leg. He stiffened at the contact but Hermione ignored him. She grabbed her textbook and refocused on studying her Charms text.

“Do you find Charms that difficult? Is the material more advanced than you expected?” he teased, repeating the same words he’d said on the train all those months ago.

“Of course, it’s why I’m resting my head against you. I intend to absorb your Charms knowledge through osmosis.”

“From my lap? I don’t believe the Charms I know involving that area of the body will be on the exam, though it may make for some interesting reading for Flitwick.”

Hermione snorted a giggle and then laughed when she noticed Severus blushing.

That was how Lily found them. And while Hermione couldn’t see her properly through watery eyes, she got the impression that Lily did not find it at all amusing.

July 2, 1975

H.,

I apologize for not sending word sooner. I’ll be a week longer than expected. Tobias has found himself in prison, lucky me, and has been there since May. He will continue to be there for another week, which means I’ll be free of him until the fifth.

While I appreciate your invitation, I feel I should spend some time with my mother. It’s rare to find her in such good humor and she has shown an interest in my life, so I think I’ll indulge her for now.

Forgive me,

Snape

July 3, 1975

Hermione had seriously questioned her sanity when she asked Delia and Bob if they would mind terribly if she took the Knight Bus to see Severus and return with him. She hadn’t mentioned that he had no idea what she was doing, or that she only knew where he lived because of the return on the Muggle post. And when they agreed, believing it would be a good idea (with plenty annoying winks and a not-so-well-hidden bump of the elbows), she had thought herself a bit barmy for boarding the mode of transportation that Harry James Potter, boy-who-dangled-from-a-broom-by-his-leg, called ‘a bit rough.’

And now that she stood at Spinner’s End, facing the row of brick terrace houses that were stained with soot and looked like they had seen far better days, Hermione wondered what exactly had happened to her brain.

Thankful that Scotland’s rain hadn’t made its way to Cokeworth (though maybe it would have dulled the smell of the river), she made her way to the house that matched the post address. She gripped the bag Delia had loaned her, one with an extension charm that allowed her to carry a couple pairs of clothes and basic toiletries.

She glanced around as she approached the door, noting that though she heard children in the streets and the sound of a radio, no one was in sight. She knocked and heard nothing.

She was about to either knock again or turn and run when the door cracked open and a pair of black eyes peeked out at her.

“Can I help you?” a soft feminine voice asked.

Hermione’s lips twitched in an effort to smile and she wrung her fingers. “I’m here to see Severus. He didn’t know I was coming.”

The woman on the other side of the door frowned. “You’re here … to see Severus?”

“I’m a friend,” she said with a nod.

The door opened a bit more and the lean woman with dark hair and pale skin looked Hermione over. She didn’t want to admit it, but the woman sort of reminded her of Neville’s Boggart, just with a smaller nose and not as outrageously dressed.

“Hermione?” Severus’ confused tone came from behind her and she turned to greet him.

Words died on her tongue just as her lips parted.

He was … nothing like she expected him to look like outside of school. Lily had confessed late one night, when it was just the two of them, that she had met Severus when he was wearing his mother’s blouse and what might have been a man’s suit jacket. He had explained his looks by stating that wizards wore robes and he was a wizard. And while she hadn’t expected a fifteen-year-old Severus to dress the way he had when he was nine, she wasn’t quite expecting something so blatantly Muggle.

He was in a worn black t-shirt that was a bit too loose on his thin frame and jeans ripped at the knees. His hair was tied back and resting against his neck, a lank oiliness to it that was never quite so bad at school. Clutched in his arm was a paper bag of groceries, his grip growing tighter the longer she stared. His surprise had also faded, though it didn’t look as though he was about to welcome her.

“Hi,” she said shyly. “Er, well, when I got your letter I thought … well, now that I’m here I’m not quite sure what I was thinking.”

“Obviously,” he sneered.

“Is this the friend you’re going to be spending the summer with?” Mrs. Snape asked.

“I was, yes,” Severus ground out.

“Well, let me get to know her,” she said, and Hermione heard the door creak behind her. She turned, and while Mrs. Snape was not smiling, there was a kindness and welcome to her eyes and posture that Hermione wanted to give in to.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Too late for that,” Severus snarked, pushing past her and heading to the kitchen.

Mrs. Snape made no apologies for her son and Hermione was kind of grateful for it. She only gave the matriarch a nervous smile before entering the house.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect when she came in. The house was well-organized and clutter-free, but there was dust coating nearly every flat surface and the print of the threadbare sofa looked as though it had been bleached too often. It was small and not very cozy, but it didn’t feel terribly cramped. There was a television and electric lights, but there was also the slightest feel of magic in the air.

Mrs. Snape gestured for Hermione to take a seat on the sofa, and she sat in the armchair.

“So,” she started, “Severus told me your name, and that’s about all.”

“Oh, well, I’m surprised he told you that much,” Hermione replied, and she heard his snort from behind her.

Mrs. Snape arched an eyebrow. “I was led to believe by that simple bit of information that you were close to him.”

“Er, well, uh, we’re friends. He’s one of the very few I have. I had an accident, you see, and it left me all alone, except the people who took me in. And I was never one to get along with others my age. I met Severus on the train with Lily, and while we weren’t friends right away, I would like to think that we’ve grown closer since the term began.”

“Breathe, Granger,” Severus taunted, and she flicked her eyes to see him leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed against his chest.

“Sorry,” she said, and he rolled his eyes.

“Gryffindor, isn’t she,” his mother observed. He hummed in agreement. Mrs. Snape’s lips twitched slightly. “Explains her coming here uninvited. With an overnight bag, at that.” As Hermione blushed, Mrs. Snape looked over her shoulder at her son. “A ‘friend,’ is it?”

Severus glared. “Don’t.”

“I won’t. Have you seen that girl you went to Muggle school with? Diane, I think her name is. Due in a couple months, I think. A couple of boys in the neighborhood are waiting to see what it looks like.”

“Enough,” Severus said, his cold black eyes fixed on his mother.

“It’s not like I’m implying it was you. She’s due in October, you were in school when she conceived.” Mrs. Snape shifted and straightened in her chair before turning to Hermione. She looked her over with a scrutiny that reminded Hermione far too much of Professor Snape. “You’re not one for boys, at least not worrying about catching their attention. And if Severus calls you friend, you must be bookish. It’s the only reason I can think of for why he would willingly cross house lines. Well, except for that other girl, the one who lives around here.”

“Er, yes. I’m … bookish,” Hermione replied, her cheeks a Gryffindor red. She turned to Severus for help but he merely smiled smugly.

This is what happens when you show up unannounced , she could hear him saying in her head.

“What subjects do you like the best?” Mrs. Snape asked.

“Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy.”

“Not Potions?” Mrs. Snape arched a brow.

Hermione swallowed. “Well, I, I enjoy brewing, but I … I think I preferred … the professor I had before.”

“Slughorn was always a good man, but too interested in ‘collecting’ people.” Mrs. Snape nodded approvingly. She then narrowed her eyes as if something had occurred to her. “Previous professor? You didn’t always attend Hogwarts, then?”

Hermione noticed Severus straighten out of the corner of her eye. “No,” she replied simply.

“Beauxbatons?”

“Ilvermorny.” Hermione’s voice cracked.

“Then wh—?”

“That’s enough,” Severus cut in, striding into the room. He looked at Hermione. “If you’re going to stay here, then we should figure out a sleeping arrangement.”

Mrs. Snape’s lips twitched. “I trust that you’ll be able to share a room without issue?”

Severus frowned, glancing at Hermione uncertainly.

“I have no problem sleeping on the floor,” Hermione offered quickly, wanting to ensure Severus knew she had, in no way, expected him to be put out.

Mrs. Snape pulled out a wand from her sleeve. “Transfiguration was never my favorite subject, but I’m certain Severus won’t need his desk chair for the next couple of days.” She looked at her son, who appeared unsure. “ He won’t be around to know it happened. And be thankful, you can only imagine what he might say if he knew you had a girl in your room.” And with that, Mrs. Snape headed up the stairs.

Severus watched her with a sigh. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “We’re leaving,” Severus called up the stairs as they passed them.

“Good,” Mrs. Snape called back, and while he didn’t smile, there was one glinting in his eyes.

Severus led her out of the house and around the back, waving her along without looking over his shoulder before stuffing both hands in his pockets and walking down the street. Hermione jogged to keep up and was thankful she had when they passed a group of rough-looking boys who nodded at Severus as they passed.

He led her to a park where there were no children playing. Hermione eyed the swing set that Severus headed towards and understood why. There was more rust than paint, and the chains creaked horribly as he sat on the rubber seat that looked ready to disintegrate. She approached it with caution, choosing not to grip the chains.

She looked out at the rest of the equipment, observing that it was all in a state that any proper committee would deem unsafe.

“You haven’t said a word,” Severus spoke after several minutes. “Regret slumming it in the north?”

“I live in Scotland, I’m quite a bit farther north than you are,” she quipped, watching a plastic bag blow past and stick to the rail of a roundabout.

“You didn’t always. And I’m willing to bet you are just eager to run back there now that you’ve seen the in-between.”

“Only because it’s quite clear you don’t want me here,” she replied, twisting her fingers. “I am sorry. I got a bit excited about the prospect of spending the summer with a friend.” At this, Severus scoffed. “Mock me all you want, but I never … never got to spend time with any of my magical friends over the summers. And I never had Muggle friends.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “I was the weird girl who liked books and whose hair did strange things when she got angry. No one spoke to me, either because they had nothing in common with me or were afraid of me. I spent my summers in the library around the corner from my parents’ job. I spent hours in the dusty research room with ol’ Mrs. Noble.”

Severus didn’t say anything and Hermione felt worse.

“I should go,” she said, getting to her feet.

Severus reached out and gripped her wrist, his hold strong but not painful. He looked at her apologetically. “Where would you go?”

“I could stay at the Leaky until you’re ready.”

“Don’t waste your Galleons,” he sighed, letting go of her wrist. Hermione hesitated, then cautiously sat back down. “Lily lives over that way.” He indicated across the park. “I wouldn’t recommend going there, though. Her sister will call you names and throw tantrums the whole time. At least the worst my mother will do is interrogate you.”

Hermione grinned at that. “I think I like her, actually.”

“Of course you do.” He rolled his eyes.

“You don’t like her, but you were spending more time with her?”

“I never said I didn’t like her. I wanted to make sure she was okay. With Tobias locked away, I wanted to make sure she wasn’t using the money she was making to make his bail or his booze.”

“She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who would.”

“She does what needs to be done to keep him from turning physical. They hate one another, my mother for his drinking, his womanizing, his inability to support us. He for her magic. Oh, he likes it enough when it can heat the water in the bath so he doesn’t have to pay for hot water. Or when she used a Confundus to get the contractor to include our house on the renovation list so we didn’t have an outhouse anymore. But he doesn’t like that it won’t conjure money or liquor, and he certainly didn’t like that it was passed down to me.”

“Oh.”

“I scare the shit out of him, but he also knows that I can’t do magic outside of school. When it was accidental, before the Trace started, he couldn’t come near me for fear of what happened the first time he tried to beat me.”

“Severus,” Hermione said quietly.

“You can imagine why I wouldn’t want you here.”

“I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t,” he snapped, turning cold eyes on her for a moment before looking away.

“You know I don’t think less of you?” she asked when the silence passed. He gave her a suspicious glance. “I can’t possibly think less of you than I already do.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, it’s not in your nature to be sarcastic.”

“And what makes you think I was trying to be sarcastic?” she asked, lips curling at the sparkle of humor in his eyes.

They were so expressive, and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps he was better at hiding his emotions as an adult.

“Sev!” Lily’s voice came from the direction he’d pointed out earlier. Hermione peeked behind him, seeing their friend dashing toward them in a blue summer dress that made Hermione’s denims and blouse appear positively frumpy. “I’ve been trying to catch you here for days, but it seems you’re nev …er … around….” Lily slowed as she approached, her smile fading as she caught sight of Hermione.

Chapter Text

—————S—————

May 30, 1993

She was the last one to have the Restorative Draught administered, so he lingered over her as the rest of the victims began to stir. He ignored Argus blubbering while he clutched his cat and wept. Creevey drew his attention for a moment with his exclamation about his missing camera, but Severus promptly turned away with an eye roll.

He watched as limbs grew limp and unseeing brown eyes regained focus. His son had those eyes, and that’s what was the most annoying thing about young Miss Granger: Severus was able to see his own children in her because she would eventually become his Hermione. But unlike seeing young James through Harry, he couldn’t see his wife through this annoying little chit. Not even the one he’d first met had been as irksome as this girl.

But when those brown eyes peered up at him, he couldn’t help but give the slightest of smiles.

“Welcome back, Miss Granger,” he whispered.

“Thank you, sir,” she mumbled.

He nodded and stepped away. It was only when he was out in the corridor that he let his exhaustion sweep over him.

When Pomona had announced that the Mandrakes were ready, he’d started the base he would need for the Restorative Draught. When that had been prepared, he’d readied himself to venture out of his lab to fetch the vital ingredient. Before he could leave the dungeons, Minerva had demanded all students return to their dorms and teachers meet in the staff room.

“It has happened,” Minerva said to them, her voice shaky and her gaze averted. “A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself. The Heir of Slytherin left another message: ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’”

Severus’ heart nearly stopped, and no one said a word. There were gasps and squeals of panic, of course, but no one asked the question he was sure everyone wanted to know the answer to.

“Who?” he asked softly, gripping the back of a chair. When Minerva didn’t answer right away, his stomach churned. “Who was taken, Minerva.” His knuckles turned white as he demanded his knees not to give out.

“Not Rory,” she assured him at once. “Ginny Weasley.”

The relief was not as overwhelming as he’d have liked. His daughter liked the girl and if he were honest, she was also one of the Weasley children he actually liked. Percy was the terrible combination of Slytherin ambition and Gryffindor brashness, and Charles and Ronald were a bit too similar in their academic mindsets. While the twins were not scholars, they were clever and creative. They and the eldest, William, were amongst his favorites. Ginevra and the twins had the added bonus of being kind to his daughter, and he had never been able to overlook kindness.

He’d had too little of it before he’d met his wife.

It was then that the pompous Lockhart came swaggering in.

Perhaps this is how we lose this Defense teacher, Severus thought to himself without guilt. The man had vexed him from the moment he had joined the staff. He’d gotten the job Severus had asked for since the Dark Lord had first fallen. There had been plenty of professors who had stepped down, neither killed nor wounded. But no, Dumbledore had gone through the list of experienced, knowledgeable applicants a few years back and still insisted that Severus should not leave the Potions classroom. And the result was this: a pretty face who thought it was an honor to be the youngest professor on staff, who believed that young girls fancying him was something to brag about.

And for the love of Merlin, Nimue, and Salazar, if he had a Galleon for every time Lockhart flirted or blatantly hit on Hermione when she visited, they could afford to expand their personal library in not only space, but books as well. Thank whoever was listening that his Hermione thought Lockhart an idiot. He’d worried when he’d noticed the ridiculous hearts and “Hermione Lockhart” written in the margins of practice essays Miss Granger wrote in study hall.

Severus would have outright murdered the idiot if he’d seen “Aurora Lockhart” written anywhere in his daughter’s neat script.

And he was an idiot, if the tales Potter told of what happened in the Chamber were true. The man didn’t know his own name when they emerged. All the better.

But it was all over now, and Severus was finally able to slink off to his chambers to get some well-deserved rest. A nagging, bossy little voice in his head insisted that he should thank Potter for ridding them of the Basilisk, but he ignored it. He’d not thank Potter but give Dumbledore a good tongue lashing when he saw him again. Lucius removing him as headmaster was one of the few smart things the blond had ever done. Even if it was only temporary.

Severus slipped into his sitting room.

It was early, or late, he wasn’t sure anymore. But when he saw the top of a curly brown head, he sighed with relief. Moving to the sofa where his wife was perched, he sat beside her heavily. She’d been reading and didn’t look up when he joined her.

“Where’s Leo?” Normally, if their son was not in the rooms, he was with Hagrid. But with the half-giant in Azkaban, he wasn’t sure.

“Spending time with his grandmother. She dropped by unexpectedly,” Hermione replied, turning a page. “She also mentioned that he’s much less cuddly at seven and she’s not getting any younger. She’d hate to only have teenagers visit; they’re quite obnoxious at that age. I may have misunderstood, but I think she wants us to have another.”

“Not tonight, too bloody exhausted,” he said as he lay his head on Hermione’s lap, closing his eyes. She giggled and ran her fingers through his hair. Often, he wondered if it ever bothered her that it was nearly always greasy. But she’d never said anything, and he knew she never would. So, he kept silent, allowing her touch to graze along his scalp in long, relaxing strokes.

“Not ever, as far as I’m concerned.” Hermione sighed, and Severus wasn’t surprised to hear the pain in her voice. “It was … too much, the years between Rory and Leo. Too much … that I don’t really want to experience again.”

He reached out and caught her hand, bringing her palm to his lips to place a kiss before letting go. “Two is fine. Two is more than we hoped for, and two it will be. And with all that has happened this year, two at Hogwarts at the same time will shave decades off my life when the time comes. Having another one pass these halls with all that could happen will send me to an early grave.”

“Next year … well, there’s no Basilisk,” Hermione said tentatively. Severus groaned. “One more year, love. One more year and I will be as in the dark about it all as you are.”

“I know you meant that as a comfort, but it’s not.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Of course you are.” He grinned. “At least tell me this, if you can without dropping dead. Will next year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at least be competent?”

He waited, not enjoying the silence that followed, peeking through his lashes enough to see her. He watched her grin.

“You’ll like them more than you’re expecting to,” was all she said, either in an effort to be cryptic or because she was oathbound.

She continued to caress his hair and he relaxed once more before an irritation on his left arm distracted him. He stiffened, then reached for his sleeve, unfastened the plethora of buttons and pushed it up to bare the Dark Mark.

Hermione stilled.

“It was darker earlier,” he said absently, running his finger along the snake. “I noticed as I was brewing and thought it was a trick of the light at first.”

“Darker,” Hermione repeated. “But that would mean …”

“The Dark Lord was on the verge of returning,” he confirmed. “It was only a few shades darker than it is now, like a worn Muggle tattoo, but it was returning. He was returning.”

He shifted his eyes to his wife and watched her brow furrowed in concentration. So this wasn’t something that stuck out as a big event, she had to dig deep for the answer.

“I vaguely remember Harry mentioning the diary belonged to Tom Riddle and … and that he was using Ginny to find a more corporeal form. But he said Riddle was a young man, not much older than a seventh year.” She frowned again. “He was handsome, as I recall, but certainly didn’t look that young.”

Severus shook his head and frowned as well. Potter had faced a young seventh-year Tom Riddle in the Chamber, not yet Voldemort, apparently. That was strange. And of course, Hermione had been busy with motherhood and studies in the last year before the Dark Lord fell. He’d kept her away when he watched the man becoming more manic, not wanting to put her or Aurora anywhere near him. Even Narcissa had quietly retreated shortly after Draco’s birth and hadn’t returned to the social circles until after the Dark Lord’s fall. Voldemort had changed slowly over the years, but the madness of the blasted prophecy had driven him off the deep end. His dark brown eyes had changed into a deep red. They’d grown narrower, too. His magic was shifting, something within him changing beyond repair.

Severus was certain he’d even win a beauty contest against Lord Voldemort in those last days.

“I don’t understand how he could come back. Or how he could have done so through a diary,” Hermione said as she resumed stroking his hair.

Severus snorted. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, dear. I also think Rory needs to know more about the current state of events.”

“Right,” Hermione agreed. “But it can wait, can’t it? At least until summer? My innocence died my first year at Hogwarts, I’d like her to live a little longer with her innocence.”

“I think that’s fine,” Severus conceded, wanting to hold on to his little girl just a little longer himself. But he knew she was growing up and doing so in a time that was far more dangerous than before.

But the Mark had faded, Potter had won the day, and his family was safe. The danger was over for the time being and with that thought, Severus drifted off to sleep.

—————H—————

July 3, 1975

Hermione grinned and waved.

“Hello,” she said. She hadn’t cocked things up with Severus but now, she felt an unwelcome vibe from her other friend.

“Hermione,” Lily said, shaking her head a bit before plastering on a grin. Hermione knew that grin, she’d seen it often directed at Sirius in the common room. “What are you doing here?”

“She invited herself,” Severus answered, walking himself backward on the swing and using the taut seat as a leaning post. He crossed his arms and peered at Hermione with mirth in his eyes. “Apparently, she was really eager to see me.”

“Was she.” Lily didn’t try to hide her condescension very well. “Well, that’s sweet. It’s only been a week and September is a long way away.”

“September?” Hermione looked at Severus, seeing the mirth was gone and was replaced by the vacant stare of being caught in a lie.

“Well, I suppose you might have managed to run into us at Diagon Alley. We’ve gone the last couple years to get our school supplies, haven’t we Sev?”

Severus kicked the ground with his toe. “I imagine we still can, if you let us know ahead of time when you’ll be going. Though, I imagine we won’t need to stop at Slugs and Jiggers.”

“I guess that depends on if you’re willing to muck around in the greenhouses and garden. Bob has two set aside for the more dangerous plants, so you wouldn’t have to worry about a Mandrake or Venomous Tentacula while trying to get your potions ingredients,” Hermione said as casually as Severus.

She was quite certain that Lily had been around when Hermione asked Severus about spending the summer with her. More so, she was fairly certain that Lily had heard Severus say he’d spend a couple days at home to ditch what he didn’t need and get some Muggle clothing before catching the Knight Bus.

Severus shrugged a shoulder. “I’m willing to work daily spreading fertilizer if it means quality potions ingredients.”

“Wait,” Lily said, lifting her hands with palms toward them. “You make it sound as if you’re going to go stay with Hermione.”

“Because I was. Am,” Severus amended. “She invited me and I accepted. You know what it’s like here, Lily. You understand why I wouldn’t stay when given another option.”

“But what about me?” Lily asked petulantly. “Stuck with Tuney all day, every day, rambling about what a freak I am and how she goes to a normal school.”

“You have other friends, which is something I can’t say,” Severus replied calmly. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Lily’s eyes turned cold. “So what do you call those you hang around with from your house, Sev? Avery and Mulciber?”

“Acquaintances,” Severus sneered. “And as I’ve said before, Lily, time and time again: if I don’t make nice with my own housemates, I wouldn’t be safe anywhere.”

“They say and do awful things, Sev. To me, to other Muggle-borns, to anyone they don’t think live up to their ideals.”

“And what about Sirius?” Hermione interrupted. “What about James? How are they any different than Mulciber and Avery? They do the exact same things to others. They target anyone who doesn’t have the so-called ‘Gryffindor ideals.’ They take house rivalry to an entirely different level, especially with Severus.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t fight back,” Lily protested.

“I would be surprised if he didn’t,” Hermione retorted. “Hell, look at you getting bent out of shape over who Severus has no choice but to live with. I highly doubt he has the same feelings toward Muggle-borns as they do, given who he spends his time with, but that doesn’t mean he can openly contradict those who think you less than them.”

“But he should.” Lily stomped her foot.

“Why? So, he has to sleep with one eye open at all times?”

“How did we get from me staying with Hermione for the summer to this?” Severus ground out.

“Because Lily felt as though you were abandoning her before I came along,” Hermione replied, standing from the seat of her swing and walking a few paces away before turning to Lily. The hurt in her green eyes instantly pierced Hermione with guilt, and she glanced at Severus to see he looked uncertain. A little niggle of something told her not to be surprised. Lily was beautiful and smart, and wanted his attention. And it wasn’t all that long ago that he’d hoped she would, so why shouldn’t he be uncertain about leaving her?

With a sigh, Hermione looked at the ground. “And probably thinks the same thing now. I keep throwing things out of balance. You two have a tradition, and I’ve disrupted it.” She glanced at Severus, seeing his wide black eyes staring at her in disbelief. “I’ll go back to your house, apologize profusely to your mother, and head home. Or at least to the Leaky, and then home. If you want to stay, don’t feel like you have to take me up on the offer. The invitation stands, of course, but I don’t … I don’t want to ruin your friendship.” She turned, heading back to Severus’.

She should have known, deep down, that this wouldn’t be different than before. She knew full well that Harry spent at least half his summers with Ron, and she was a third wheel. She should count herself lucky that she had friends at all in this era.

“Hermione.” Severus didn’t need to shout, and it startled her when his hand came down on her shoulder. She turned. “You can’t bloody well come all the way here and honestly believe I would drop you because Lily threw a tantrum?”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed as she struggled to understand.

“Blimey, you can be incredibly stupid for a such a brilliant witch,” he mumbled, but not quietly enough to go unnoticed, and she scowled at him. “Lily and I used to spend summers together before Hogwarts, but because she’s away most of the year, she spends most of her summer with her Muggle friends than with me. She may have tried to catch me for days, but that wouldn’t have lasted long. We would have gone to Diagon Alley together, yes, but mostly because her parents feel bad that my mother and I have no way into London.”

“I should go apologize for leaving.” Hermione tried to move toward the playground, only to have Severus’ hand hold her firmly in place.

“I don’t think so. For one, the moment I went after you, Lily probably stormed back home. For another, you have done nothing that warrants an apology.” Here, he hesitated. “Lily and I have not been as close as we were before Hogwarts. Think about how often she leaves with her other Gryffindor friends without a second thought.”

She did, and it barely took a second for her to accept that Lily left them quite often.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing back to the park. “Ma probably thinks we’ll be gone a bit longer.”

Hermione gave a nod and followed him back to the park.

To their surprise, Lily was still there, only now she was on the swing that Hermione had occupied.

“I thought you were going back?” she asked, her voice holding no malice, but her eyes were narrowed.

“I told her she was being ridiculous,” Severus replied, plopping down next to Lily but facing the opposite direction. “We could arrange a time at the Leaky. If you still want to get our supplies together, we could plan it.”

Lily took a deep breath, her gaze shifting between Severus and Hermione as if she were weighing her options. “All right,” she finally agreed. “We can do that.”

—————H—————

The afternoon spent with Lily was stilted. Hermione still felt like a third wheel; but at the Snape residence, with only Mrs. Snape and Severus, Hermione felt much more at ease.

Eileen Snape took a liking to her that the young witch couldn’t quite understand. And Hermione thought the older woman the ideal Slytherin. Eileen wandlessly and wordlessly lit a wood-burning stove after transfiguring an old newspaper into proper firewood.

“What Tobias doesn’t know,” Severus commented, a glint of amusement in his eye.

“Tobias has never noticed,” Mrs. Snape replied.

As she went about preparing potato hash, Hermione pitched in without asking. And in turn (and true motherly fashion), Eileen Snape told tales of Severus’ childhood.

“His first incident of accidental magic happened when he was about one, just before the holidays, I think. Tobias’ beer kept vanishing, winding up on top of the fridge where I often put things I didn’t want Severus to get to.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “You always said it was when I lit the chair on fire in a temper tantrum.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain that was your first intentional bit of magic,” Mrs. Snape replied, a similar smirk on her face to the one Severus often wore when amused.

“Exactly what was so terrible that you lit a chair on fire?” Hermione asked him.

“He wasn’t allowed to climb the bookshelf,” Mrs. Snape replied, and Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

“And what was your first bit of magic, then?” Severus snapped, his eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“I made my dolls move while pretending to have a tea party,” she replied. “I was about three, I believe. That was the earliest I can remember, and the only truly unusual thing my parents witnessed.” Her smile faded. “They were petrified. I remember my mother screaming in terror and my father pulling me from the room. I didn’t understand. And of course, neither did they.”

The room was quiet but for the sounds of dinner preparation.

“I never understood why the Ministry doesn’t investigate those bursts of magic where there haven’t been any before,” Mrs. Snape eventually said. “Life would be easier, I’m sure, if Muggles knew what was going on. But no ,” -she sliced through a potato with more vigor than she probably intended to, the knife hitting the board with an echo- “the Statute of Secrecy dictates that no witch or wizard shall inform Muggles of what they are. You can marry them, build a family, but heaven forbid you reveal that important piece of yourself before it becomes necessary. But perhaps it’s different in the New World?” She turned to Hermione, nostrils flaring and eyes cold, but no malice directed at Hermione.

“Er, well, it’s a bit worse, actually,” Hermione said. “There’s not supposed to be any evidence of the wizarding world. They aren’t even allowed to marry Muggles, really.”

“Then how did your parents keep you?” Mrs. Snape asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t bring herself to answer. She glanced at Severus and he looked truly nervous for the first time since Hermione’s arrival. His stance was slack, and his eyes darted between her and his mother. So, Mrs. Snape hadn’t known, at least not for certain, that Hermione was Muggle-born.

“Er…” Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat only to have it rise again. “We’re British.”

Eileen Snape raised a single eyebrow then turned back to the vegetables. “Tell me she hasn’t been passing as a pureblood.”

“We blame it on the State-side upbringing,” Severus replied casually.

She snorted. “And they believe that?”

Severus shrugged. “Most have no inclination to travel to a world where they need to dress and act like Muggles, and therefore have no interest in learning about it. And it’s not common to discuss first magical incidents.”

Eileen shook her head. “I will show you some common pure-blood etiquette requirements during dinner. While you may have gotten this far by saying you were raised outside of this society, eventually something will come up that you can’t excuse.”

“I-I appreciate that, thank you,” Hermione replied demurely.

“Just don’t wave your hand around if you have questions,” Severus muttered. He caught the potato Hermione threw at his head without even looking. “Gryffindor.”

Hermione merely huffed in response.

—————H—————

Hermione’s head was positively spinning by the time she went to bed. She lay on the Transfigured bed, studying the cracks in Severus’ ceiling, baffled by the sheer amount of information that Mrs. Snape had shared during dinner.

House-elves were slaves. Willing slaves who would die if they did not serve. And they didn’t get paid! It was horrible, terrible, inhumane.

“ They aren’t human,” Eileen reminded her. “And how would forcing them to change their ways be any different than us going to another country and forcing our ways onto the indigenous people?”

“But we have!” Hermione replied.

“And how well did that turn out?”

“Slaves demanded rights and wages,” Hermione retorted, “as was their right as humans!”

“And house-elves have no desire for those rights,” Eileen pointed out smoothly.

“But what if they’re abused?” Hermione asked, vaguely recalling what Harry had said about Dobby. “What if they’re punished for something beyond their control?”

Eileen’s eyes darkened. “Only the worst kinds of wizards do such things. A house-elf will punish itself over lesser transgressions, any wizard who feels the need to add to an elf’s pain is detestable.”

Hermione had to let it go, and while she still wanted to protest for elves’ rights, a swift reminder from the Snapes that no pureblood would ever do such a thing convinced her to not dwell on it. Etiquette was simpler to follow, and by the end of dinner she had the dining part down. She absorbed other things, such as courting rituals and escorting procedures, though those seemed kind of useless. Eileen also talked about the emphasis on lineage and marriage, delivered with such a sadness in her eyes that made Hermione ache for the woman. It was obvious that she broke the ‘rules,’ and Hermione couldn’t help but wondered why, and what it had cost her.

“You think too loud,” Severus said from the couple feet that separated them. “It’s already unbearable in here from the heat, but adding those gears turning makes it worse.”

“How could you possibly know that I’m thinking?” Hermione asked, turning her head toward his form on his bed.

“The way you breathe,” Severus replied. “When you’re deep in thought, when you’re studying or doing homework or trying something new in class, your breath comes in short spurts. Quick and slightly nasally.”

“You’re one to talk about nasally,” Hermione quipped with a quirk of her lips.

Severus whipped his head around, frowning at her before rolling his eyes. “Ha bloody ha. The jokes about that particular appendage get old.”

“Well, you know what they say about people with big noses,” she said cheekily. Severus lifted his head slightly and lifted an incredulous brow. “They have a fantastically well-developed olfactory sense,” she finished with a giggle. She saw that Severus was trying really hard not to smirk, which only made her giggle more.

“That had best not be some strange form of foreplay,” Mrs. Snape shouted from down the hall, which made Hermione laugh harder.

“Exactly what would we be doing with the door open?” Severus yelled back.

“Same thing teenagers have been doing in the alcoves of Hogwarts for centuries,” she countered, the amusement in her voice clear.

Severus shook his head, smiling for a moment before it faded.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

He shook his head before glancing over his shoulder as if he could see his mother down the hall through the wall. “She’s a different woman when Tobias isn’t around,” he said so softly that Hermione had to strain to hear him. She shifted toward him, perching on the edge of her bed to hear him properly. “This is the mother I remember from my earliest years, before she had to find work. She never smiled, not really, but there was joy in her voice. There was playfulness. When he wasn’t home, at least. We were quiet, otherwise.” Severus looked at the bed beneath him, a long finger running along the edge of it. “He’s been locked up five or six times, all for assault, but he never learns. He was locked up once for hitting Ma, because one of the blokes down the road noticed the marks he left. Tobias was back in jail a month after getting out for beating the bloke bloody. I imagine, had I not had magic, I’d have ended up like him.”

“I don’t think that,” Hermione said softly, reaching out and stilling his hand. She held it with her own and met his eyes when they shot up to meet hers. “You’re not a saint and you never would have been. But you know what your father does isn’t right. You would have found a way out because you’d have been determined to do so.”

He studied her in the moonlight, his black eyes more intense than she’d ever seen them. “You truly believe that, don’t you?”

“I may not know everything about you, Severus, but I know this: you do what’s right, you do what’s necessary. Even if there is no thanks to be had, even if it means putting yourself at risk. You may not like doing it, you may be bitter and angry towards those you helped, but you do it because it’s who you are, and you are good.” She smiled at the widening of his eyes. “You would’ve gotten up to all sorts of mischief, but not gotten caught or let it get too far. And you’d have gotten away because it was the smart thing to do, and I firmly believe you’d take your mother with you. “

“Do you ever shut up?” he asked her softly.

“Only when I sleep,” she replied with a shaky grin. He was still staring at her and those eyes were still too intense.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmured.

And did he just look at her lips? Of course he had, lips were attached to the mouth, and the mouth was where words came out of, and he would quite like the words to stop. Though there were better ways to stop talking than sleeping, and where did that thought come from? Severus Snape did not want to kiss her, and she certainly did not want to kiss him. Probably. Maybe. Right.

No, it was simple proximity and chemistry, helped along by darkness and having a bed very close to his, and—

“You had best have placed a silencing charm on her or knocked her out,” Eileen warned from down the hall.

“Oh, would you stop!” Severus yelled back, flopping back on the bed. “Merlin, woman, just because we’re teenagers of the opposite sex does not mean we will be snogging or any other such nonsense!” Severus pulled on his hair before shifting slightly away from the edge of the bed closest to Hermione. He closed his eyes then, either willing sleep to come or to signal the end of the conversation.

He was still holding her hand.

—————A—————

June 2, 1993

Aurora sat with her back to a tree beside the lake, a book open in her lap, watching the Giant Squid playing and splashing. Exams were canceled, Harry had faced Voldemort again and lived, and now everything was back to normal. Except, it only served to remind her that she didn’t understand something important. Draco had stalked the halls, sulking. She was sure she heard her father trying to placate Uncle Lu, though he put up a silencing spell shortly after she entered the room. She knew that there was something going on and she would demand an explanation.

But not right now. Now, she wanted to relax and enjoy the day sitting in the sunshine.

Gryffindor had celebrated well into the evening and Aunt Min had pointedly ignored Percy Weasley’s reports of what was happening and his bids for help to stop it. She didn’t quite understand why he didn’t just go up to his room and let the older prefects (and the younger ones, for that matter) supervise if he didn’t want to bother with it. He even kept looking pointedly at her as if she was somehow going to summon her father to end the nonsense. As if that was going to happen.

“Hey,” Ginny said as she plopped down beside her. Aurora shifted slightly to give her some room, and the ginger smiled shyly. They were quiet for a while, both watching the squid, before Ginny spoke again. “I’ve made a bit of a mess of this year. I don’t know what was going on with that diary, but it did awful things to my head.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Aurora said, unable to shake how uncomfortable the diary had made her.

“I don’t know if you do, but thanks anyway.” Ginny bent her knees and rested her chin against them. “Can we start again? Being friends, I mean? It’s just, I bollocked everything up, and I haven’t really made any friends. I know most of our year think of me as nothing more than Ron’s sister. Not even Fred and George’s, or Percy’s, but Ron’s . Because he’s best friends with Harry.”

“I thought you adored Harry?” Aurora taunted lightly.

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I thought I was in love with him or something,” Ginny admitted. “He’s just a bloke, an average bloke. I mean, yeah, he saved me, and it was great of him and I appreciate it, but … he was terrified. I could see it in his eyes when I woke up. And … I don’t know, I just…”

Aurora watched as Ginny struggled, getting frustrated when she couldn’t find the right words to explain her thoughts.

“Well, I understand how it feels to be judged for being someone’s relative, rather than being yourself. I’m Professor Snape’s daughter. You have to deal with being Harry Potter’s best friend’s little sister, I deal with people asking if I’m half vampire.”

Ginny laughed at that, head thrown back and eyes closed with mirth. “He’s not as bad as all that. Can be a right git sometimes, no offense, but nothing like Ronniekins makes him out to be.”

“Ronniekins?” Aurora repeated. “Oh, I quite like that. Do you think I could call him that the next time he looks as though I crawled out of a hole?”

“I don’t get why he hates you so much,” Ginny sighed. “Harry’s nice to you, so’s Hermione.”

Aurora shrugged. “He can’t treat my dad that way, so he takes it out on me.”

“It’s not right.” Aurora just shrugged again. “You should come to the Burrow this summer. Spend some time there where my mum can whack him whenever he’s a git.”

Aurora snorted. “We could ask my dad. Maybe he’d let you come by as well…” The words were out of her mouth before she realized what a monumentally stupid idea that was.

“You mean now?” Ginny asked, a mix of hope and fear in her voice.

Aurora stood, determination and uncertainty warring within her because she had no idea how her father would react.

Ginny looked nervous as she got to her feet, but she followed Aurora back inside and down into the dungeons without a word. A couple of Slytherins were poised to launch an attack or a snarky remark, but then kept their mouths shut when they realized who exactly was encroaching their territory. Aurora knocked on her father’s office door and heard him command them to enter in the cool, controlled tone he reserved for his professorial duties.

She opened the door and waved Ginny in first.

“Miss Weasley,” he drawled, mouth still open as if to say something else when Aurora stepped in. He looked surprised and uncertain, his mouth moving once as if to address her as Miss Snape, and then again as Rory. “Aurora,” he finally said. “To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s unlike you to come during school hours.”

“I realize it could have waited,” Aurora began nervously, feeling a light prod of her father’s mind against hers. She gave a mental invitation and he was in and out quickly. “But I was hoping I could visit Ginny at the Burrow over the summer, and maybe she could visit us?”

“A visit to our residence is completely out of the question,” he replied immediately, not dropping the professor tone. “Your mother has research in the coming months and as it stands, you are not to disturb her. Having company over would do just that. Perhaps next summer. As for your visit to the Burrow, should Mr. and Mrs. Weasley agree, you may stay for a couple weeks after the end of term.”

Aurora was sure that Ginny only saw a stiff but civil conversation between father and daughter, to the point and blunt. But Aurora could see the amusement in her dad’s onyx eyes, the twitch of a smile at the relief that must have been in her own when he came up with the excuse to not return the invitation, and the slight release of his rigid posture as he slipped subtly into father mode.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” Ginny said nervously. “I’ll, er, owl my parents right away. Ah, meet you in the Great Hall, Rory.” She took off.

The second the door was closed, Professor Snape laughed. “Well, she certainly is living up to that Gryffindor bravery.”

“You aren’t that scary.”

“Not to you, perhaps, but I’m not exactly known for kindness. Especially with Gryffindors, and Weasleys in particular have been known to take a lot of my ire,” he admitted. “I’m sure Molly and Arthur will welcome you with open arms. Just make sure to behave, write your mother, and return before July 31st.”

“Why then?” Aurora frowned.

“I have a feeling it’s when trouble will start up again.”

—————H—————

July 31, 1975

Hermione absolutely, positively refused to believe that she was attracted to Severus.

They’d slept in the same room for two nights at Spinner’s End, though they only drifted off holding hands the first night. Hermione didn’t put too much stock in it, choosing to believe it was because it was an overly emotional day. The handholding was simply a comforting gesture, and they had drifted off before either of them could pull away. At some point during the night, their hands untangled and while they woke up facing one another, they were not touching.

And waking up with a direct view of the other sleep-rumpled person meant seeing each other at their absolute worst. Hermione knew she drooled in her sleep and that her curls were always a wild bush in the mornings. Severus sweat in his sleep, resulting in clumps of greasy hair stuck to his forehead to go along with the pillow tracks on his cheeks. They were a right mess and yet, Hermione remembered it with a warmth in her heart and a quiet longing to see it again.

He did look a bit improved once they made it back to Scotland. At least in the mornings and the evenings after a second shower to wash away the work of the day. But for the majority of the hours they spent together, Severus was sweaty, his oily and lank hair tied back. He’d be on the opposite side of a plant box, neither of them able to turn down Bob’s offer of earning money and the plant portion of their potions ingredients, and Severus would have dirt on his cheeks and nose, under his nails. There were spots blossoming on his forehead and chin, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. And he’d be so completely lovely to Hermione that she seriously began to question her sanity.

She knew that his appearance wasn’t what was intriguing, but the little things past the grease and the pimples. Like his crooked cocky grin as they traded barbs over the garden beds. The strength of his jaw, now visible with his hair out of the way. His eyes: so expressive and magnetic like the hematite they resembled; Hermione could stare into them all day if she thought she could get away with it. And while lean, verging on malnourished, she wasn’t opposed to him going without a shirt. Yes, she could see the shadow of his ribs and the vertebrae in his back when he bent over, but the shape of his arms hinted at the strength he was building from lifting cauldrons …

“I’d say you were undressing ‘im with your eyes, but he’s already part way there.” Delia startled Hermione out of her reverie, causing her to give a soft yelp that thanked God, Merlin or anyone else who cared, that the young men and Bob hadn’t heard.

Severus had volunteered to help him and the apprentices deal with a particularly difficult branch of Bowtruckles that didn’t like being moved. It was the hottest day of the summer, cloudless and humid beyond reason. The men hadn’t taken long to discard their work shirts and while Bob was still in his undershirt, the apprentices and Severus had removed their undershirts. It was a bit distracting and it wasn’t until Delia arrived that Hermione realized she hadn’t finished with the mint she’d started a half hour ago.

“You know, Elroy and Mathew have asked about you a couple times,” Delia commented casually as she handed Hermione an ever-chilled glass of pumpkin juice. As if they heard her, the two apprentices both glanced over at Hermione. “Don’t suppose either of them have tickled your fancy?”

“None of them have,” Hermione said too quickly to be truly believable. “It’s the hormones that make me want to watch. I’m entering the height of puberty, have passed the threshold of ‘blossoming’ and terrible skin, and am settling into a woman. Hormones are a part of that and since I find men attractive, I observe the opposite sex. Perfectly normal.”

“Never said it wasn’t,” Delia said gently. “But you were staring at least five minutes. Pretty much from the moment it was clear you weren’t goin’ to get caught.”

“And I suppose you’ve drawn conclusions by that?”

Delia smiled before taking the tray of chilled glasses to the men. Hermione watched as she handed Bob two and he offered one as a peace offering to the Bowtruckles. The apprentices were still animated, bowing and gesturing grandly in thanks at the refreshments Delia gave them. Severus simply took it with a nod before he turned and headed toward Hermione.

If she sat up straighter, it didn’t mean anything. And if she brushed her hands on her denim shorts, well, she was just making herself more presentable for company.

But Severus wasn’t really looking at her, focused on the thin green creature on his arm as he sat beside her. He placed his glass of pumpkin juice on the edge of the plant box, never taking his eyes off the little living twig.

“I think he likes me. I think it’s a he, anyway,” Severus said as he turned his arm, palm up. The Bowtruckle walked to it, then looked at Severus expectantly. “This is my friend. She’s nice, even if she is a nuisance. And no, her hair is not a place for you to live in, so don’t think about it.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Severus glanced at it before looking at her. “Avoiding mirrors will not make the lie real.” He brought the hand containing the Bowtruckle to her shoulder.

It crawled onto her, its tiny feet tickling her skin as it moved over her shoulder and tucked itself under her hair.

“I see it listens as well as you do,” Severus mused as he shifted to grab the t-shirt he’d had bunched in his back-jean pocket. He pulled it over his head, nose wrinkling. “I can think of at least three housemates I’m quite thankful I don’t spend any time with during the summer right now.”

“It’s ghastly, isn’t it? I don’t remember it being this bad last year.”

“I’m sure you had other things on your mind at the time,” he said before taking a hearty gulp of his pumpkin juice. “I imagine the day has come and gone.”

“It has,” Hermione acknowledged. “It was the day I showed up uninvited on your doorstep.”

Severus turned to look at her, studying her face. “I suppose it’s good I didn’t tell you to leave.”

Hermione’s lips twitched. “It wouldn’t have bothered me.”

“Liar.”

“Honestly, I didn’t … I didn’t think about it at the time. I … woke up on that day a year ago. It wasn’t when it happened.”

“Does it bother you?” he asked curiously. “Your parents are out there right now and don’t know who you are. Had it been me, I wouldn’t have thought much about it. A slight pang of loss for my mother, I suppose, but if Tobias forgot my existence, I’d be happier for it. But you strike me as someone who would miss it. Them.”

Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought of a way to answer him without revealing anything. “It’s hard only because if there comes a time they know who I am, I’ll have changed from what they knew. And I miss them. Delia and Bob are great, but they aren’t my parents.”

Severus nodded and took another drink.

The Bowtruckle took that moment to stretch and peer around Hermione’s head to look at her. She snorted at its tiny expression of worry. “I’m all right.” It reached out a hand and swiped at her cheek, bringing away a small ball of moisture. “I hadn’t realized,” she said softly.

The Bowtruckle examined the tear in its hand, its tiny little tongue darting out to lick it. It shuddered, sticking out its tongue as if spitting. Hermione chuckled. “Well that was a bitter lesson for you, wasn’t it? I hope you don’t get sick.” She held out her hand for it to climb onto, but it shook its head. It then looked at Severus, tapping its little foot in impatience.

“I’m not going back over there until I have to. If you want to return to the others, you can head over yourself.”

He chuckled as the Bowtruckle flopped onto Hermione’s shoulder as though the very idea of waiting filled it with despair.

Severus snorted. “I didn’t know they had such strong personalities.”

“He’s quite the character.”

When neither of them made a move to get up, the Bowtruckle scooted along Hermione’s shoulder before sliding down her arm and hopping off her palm. She tried to follow its progress across the lawn to rejoin its branch, but it was difficult once it was far enough away.

“If you tell anyone this, I will not only deny it, but I promise retribution when you least expect it,” Severus said, getting Hermione’s full attention. He looked every bit as grave as he would in his adult years just before handing out the worst punishment. “I sort of want a Bowtruckle now. I would call it Bowie.”

“Bowie?” Hermione asked, trying her absolute best to keep the smile from her lips.

“Oh yes. It would be a shame to miss out on such an obvious name, one Muggle-borns would question the origin of and one that purebloods would believe was lazy.”

“Wouldn’t it be cleverer to name him Ziggy?”

Severus nearly smiled, and his eyes lighted with joy. “If I ever get a Bowtruckle, I’ll consider it. Just for you.”

Her heart did not stutter. Her mind did not go blank. And she was positively, absolutely not attracted to him.

But as Severus had pointed out, she was a liar.

Chapter Text

—————S—————

August 2, 1975

Severus debated for at least thirty minutes if he should check if Hermione was awake. Yes, it was five-thirty in the morning and yes, he might miss waking up next to her and seeing her dreadful hair and her open mouth. But regardless, he was bored, and he missed her, and while he would never enter her room to watch her sleep, he was nearly to the point of going in and waking her up.

So he got dressed and headed downstairs. Maybe he could run around the property or see if Mr. McGonagall was already up and ready to start the day. He may have put in enough physical labor to cover the Herbology part of his potions ingredients, a new set of robes, textbooks, and still have more spending money than he had ever had at any other time in his life, but he wasn’t about to stop if he didn’t have to. He wanted the experience, knowing that working with a Master Herbologist would count towards part of a Potions Mastery. He wanted the reference for when the time to apply came.

And damn it, he wanted to actually stand a chance with Hermione.

He knew heading into his fourth year that he and Lily were drifting apart. She was such a Gryffindor, righteous and bold. She had allowed her housemates to convince her that any knowledge of the Dark Arts instantly meant a Dark wizard, that the lure of it was only strong for someone already down that path. And Slytherins were the worst. Never mind that the house stood for creativity and cunning, its defining trait of ambition twisted into power-hungry.

It didn’t help that she was growing more beautiful, while he was merely growing into his nose and hoping puberty would pass soon so his hair and skin wouldn’t be quite so oily. She made friends as easily as breathing, while even within his house he was considered nothing more than an acquaintance or a tutor. He was a survivor and he was doing what he could to survive.

But he would have given it all up, risked his neck every day, had Lily Evans said she wanted to be with him.

Going into their fourth year, she was everything.

And then they’d met Hermione.

When she had collapsed on Valentine’s Day, he didn’t want to admit he was scared. When she went to the McGonagalls’ for the Easter hols, he didn’t want to admit he missed her desperately. The invitation to join her during the summer felt too good to be true. He was absolutely sure he’d lose her when she showed up unannounced at Spinner’s End. But she had stayed and didn’t say a damn thing about the way he lived. There was no pity, no disgust, no … anything. She was just there, talking to his mother, sleeping in a bed next to his, allowing him to lead the way up and down the disgusting river without a word of complaint.

He knew then that she was different in more ways than he had expected. He was infatuated with her. Maybe more than that: he was pretty sure he was being a complete idiot and falling in love with her. And while she may not have been much to look at on the train the year before, he’d have to be blind not to see she was becoming a beauty in her own right. She’d never be a Lily, but that just made her better in his eyes. And puberty wasn’t becoming his friend any time soon. Severus feared Hermione would not give him a second look, that she’d fall for Lupin or some Ravenclaw. Maybe even one of the more attractive Slytherins.

He made sure to never intentionally introduce her to any of them.

He doubted affluence mattered to her, but he couldn’t argue that money to buy things to woo her with couldn’t hurt, even if it was only quills and parchment. Or flowers that doubled as potions ingredients.

Severus stopped short as he made it to the kitchen, seeing Cordelia McGonagall standing in front of a cauldron, ingredients laid out to her left and a book to her right.

“What are you brewing?” he asked, startling her so much she jumped off the ground.

Eyes wide, hand over her heart, Cordelia’s lips twitched in a grin. “Scared me there, Severus. Bit early for you ta be up, innit?”

He shrugged. “Early riser.”

“I’m brewing Bob some pain relief. Not as young as he used to be, and bendin’ over all day gets his back in a right twist. Takes more of it than he should, I say, but he’s too young to retire still.”

Severus smiled to himself as he came over and inspected what she had out. Cordelia was following the book to the letter and he resisted the urge to sneer. “I know a better way to brew it,” he said as he picked up a vial of flobberworm mucus. “Faster, more potent, lasts longer, and I don’t think one would build up a tolerance to it quite so fast.”

Cordelia frowned before her expression softened. “Hermione said you were a bit of a whiz with potions. She also said you blew up a cauldron brewing something like that.”

“Only the first time. I was quite successful the second time, as well as the third. And I’ve tested the results personally.”

“When?”

“I used it after I had to pop my own shoulder back in place,” he said nonchalantly, remembering the tripping jinx that made him fall down the dungeon stairs not long after the Easter hols. He remembered the echo of Potter and Black’s laughter, Pettigrew’s cackling, and the searing pain that ripped through him. Had he not been meant to meet Hermione and Lily, he may have had the time to have it set properly. But as it was, knowing they would worry and eventually find him in the hospital wing, he opted to just bite the bullet and get it over with. He’d popped it back into place against the dungeon wall, swallowed the potion, and gone off to study.

Cordelia considered it for only a brief moment before she stepped aside and gestured to the cauldron. “Tell me what you need. Can’t believe I’m lettin’ a fifteen-year-old boy show me how to brew something, but I’m the one still using a book.”

Severus quirked his lips at that, not daring to laugh in case he offended her.

They worked quietly, Cordelia acting as an assistant and fetching Severus what he needed as he played Master. Brewing his own variation was exciting and nerve-wracking. He was terrified he’d mess up, prove himself just a stupid kid, but he knew in his gut that he could do this.

As the final stages approached and the sun began to rise, Cordelia cleared her throat. “You’re good at this, altering potions?”

“I’ve been doing it since my third year. Not to this degree, mind. This was my first experiment gone right.”

“But you know how to … change things? Make them better?”

Severus frowned as he watched the color shift to the slate blue hue it was meant to. “Yes. I started with methods of preparation and now I look at the recipe. I want to become a Master in the field, and it’s difficult to do so without having a knack or will to experiment.”

He heard her step away, open and close a cupboard, and then return to his side. She handed him a slip of paper. “Do you see any way of making this better?” she asked softly.

Severus read it over and his gut twisted. A Fertility Potion. He noticed during the Sunday dinners he’d gone to with the McGonagalls that there were many young adults there. He hadn’t realized until that moment that none of them were Bob and Cordelia’s. He’d assumed they had children who’d grown and left. He’d noticed they all called Professor McGonagall “Aunt Min,” but …

“Fennel is frequently used in … contraceptive potions,” he said, pointing to the ingredient. “Change it for thistle, and perhaps add fluxweed as well.” He shrugged, bowing his head to hide his blush behind his hair. “I could look into it more, but only if you …”

“Thank you, Severus,” she breathed with absolute sincerity. “That simple suggestion alone—”

“Think nothing of it,” Severus cut in, gesturing that no more needed to be said on the subject as the sound of light footsteps came tromping down the stairs.

“Does potion-making count as magic outside of school?” Hermione asked as she stopped in the kitchen doorway.

“There’s no wand-waving in potion-making,” he replied, and he watched her eyes widen comically, her focus shifting as though she were seeing someone else.

“No silly wand-waving,” she murmured. “Well,” -her eyes came back into focus and a smile played on her lips- “I suppose you have a point there. And how exactly would they know for sure? Delia is right there.”

He smiled, holding eye contact with her and watching the spread of the blush that started at her cheeks and traveled down her neck. Merlin, he hoped it meant something more than embarrassment.

“Hermione,” Delia said, breaking their eye contact. “Think you and Severus could pop out to Hogsmeade for me later? I’ll make a list of what I need from the apothecary, and you can Floo into Minerva’s cottage to get there.”

“I don’t think Bob needs us today,” she said, glancing at Severus in confirmation.

He shrugged, torn between wanting to work and wanting to spend a few hours away from the McGonagalls to be alone with Hermione.

“Excellent,” Delia beamed. “I’ll get started on breakfast, and then you two can head off. And I wouldn’t rush back. You’re so used to exploring the village with your classmates all around ya, you should experience it without all the noise and hustle.” She looked at Severus and there was a slight twitch to Cordelia’s eye that very well might have been a wink.

Hogsmeade suddenly sounded like a much more appealing option.

—————A—————

June 19, 1993

Compared to the start of the year, when Ginny entered Aurora’s compartment on the Hogwarts Express and made extremely awkward small talk, this was perfect: practicing disarming charms with the four youngest Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry. There were also the fireworks of Exploding Snap, which she wasn’t very good at but was getting better at with each round. And then, just as they were nearing the station, Harry’s eyes widened, and he hastily searched for a quill and some parchment.

“This is called a telephone number,” Harry explained to Ron. “I taught your dad how to use one last summer. Er,” -he looked at Aurora, a slight blush coloring his cheeks- “does Sna—er, your dad know how to, ah—”

“I went to Muggle school, Harry. Remember?” she teased, and his blush deepened.

“Right, yes. Sorta forgot since we, uh … anyway. This is how you can reach me at the Dursleys’,” he said as he jotted down his number three times, ripping the paper and handing one to Hermione, Ron, and Aurora. “I don’t think I could stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to.”

“Won’t they be proud after hearing of all the heroic things you’ve done?” Hermione asked, perplexed.

“Proud? All those times I could have died and didn’t? They’ll be furious,” Harry answered, and Aurora was the only one to snort in response. Hermione gave her an incredulous look and Ron glowered, but Aurora simply shrugged.

When the train came to a complete stop, they all filed out and headed to get their trunks. Eagerness welled in Aurora, and it had her giggling with Ginny every time they glanced at one another as they remembered that they would be spending the next few weeks together reconnecting. Aurora’s mother had let her know that she should follow Ginny off the train.

Trunks loaded onto carts, the girls headed for the queue forming for students to leave.

“Rory,” Harry called, causing both girls to stop. Ginny looked confused, but there was no hint of jealousy. Harry looked shy, shifting from one foot to the other. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. When we were in school together before, you were one of the few people that didn’t care what Dudley and his gang thought, and you spent time with me. And well, I should have done the same for you when you arrived. I guess, I didn’t think at first. And then all the other stuff happened, and …”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “Fresh start next year, yeah?” He nodded and turned around and went to fetch his trunk.

Aurora glanced at Ginny nervously, trying to look for signs that she’d screwed up their friendship already.

“Are you sure you don’t—?” Aurora started to ask as they pushed the cart together.

“Yeah,” Ginny replied. “It’s … he’s … I just … I really liked him more when he was a celebrity I built up in my mind. Like Ron with Gwenog Jones. He refuses to admit he fancies her because she’s not a Chudley Cannons player, but he does. But if he were to meet her, to see her in real life, I think the shine would wear off.”

“I don’t know how he can like that team. They’re terrible.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Ginny snickered.

The two approached the wall and the guard had them wait a moment before letting them pass through.

On the other side, a woman with curly red hair and a warm smile greeted them. Aurora wasn’t quite sure what to think of her, though by the way Ginny headed right for her, she knew this was Mrs. Weasley. She’d heard of her from both her parents, of course. But for some reason, this was not at all how Aurora had pictured her.

Her own mother dressed mostly in trousers and modern-cut robes that wrapped around her torso and stopped at the knee. Her hair was always in a braid or a bun, only down on special occasions. She wore boots like her father and looked every bit the scholar she was and the young pure-blood witch she pretended to be. Lady Malfoy was always put-together, every detail from her hair, to her robes, to the day’s accessories planned just so. And her grandmother dressed like a wealthy Muggle woman.

Aurora had never seen a witch who looked so comfortable and casual before, nor had she ever seen one so much the poster woman for motherhood.

And she loved it.

“Aurora Snape.” Molly Weasley smiled, reaching out and cupping Aurora’s cheeks and looking her over. “I haven’t seen you since you were a baby; look at how lovely you’ve grown. I’m so glad you and Ginny are friends. I’d hoped it would be you and Ron, but I suppose the age difference—”

“Mum,” Ginny groaned, and Mrs. Weasley gave her a grin before she turned back to Aurora.

“You’re just like your father: a bit thin. Then again, your mother was a little lean herself, best I can remember.” She frowned, but then shook her head, smiling warmly again as she looked over Aurora’s shoulder to the wall behind them. “About time you boys came through.”

“Bye, Harry,” Ron called, and Harry waved and went off to where a very fat, very strange-looking man was standing, glaring.

Ron stopped short upon seeing Aurora. “What’re you doing here?”

“Now, Ronald, that’s no way to talk to our guest,” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

“Guest!” Ron gasped.

“Rory’s spending the first few weeks of summer with us.” Ginny smiled.

Ron groaned. “But that means Snape! I don’t want to see the great greasy git on my summer vacation. I don’t even want to see him during the school year.”

“Ronald,” Mrs. Weasley warned. “You will show respect to your teachers. And I already got a letter from Mrs. Snape, she’ll come by the Burrow to collect Aurora when the time comes.”

“She will?” Aurora frowned.

It was odd even without the cover of her mother’s research. She’d noticed her mother would wander outside the dungeons less and less as Aurora’s start at Hogwarts grew closer. She understood now it was to not use her disguise often, and to not draw attention to herself. So, it was strange that she was willing to come to a place where so many people would recognize her.

Mrs. Weasley gave her a warm smile. “Your little brother has been feeling left out and your father has agreed to spend the few weeks you’re with us with him. Father-son bonding.”

“You have a brother,” Ron gaped as the twins and Percy came up behind him.

“You have three,” Aurora pointed out.

“There are more Snapes? Bloody hell.”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” Mrs. Weasley said through her teeth. “One more word.”

“And actually, I have six brothers,” Ginny butted in. “Charlie and Bill live abroad.”

“Ah,” Aurora replied, giving a nod. “I’ll remember never to complain when Leo crowds my space and never leaves me alone.”

“Probably for the best,” Ginny agreed as Molly began to lead them all out of the station.

They were all quiet until they were nearly out the front doors when Ron mumbled, “There are more of them.”

Mrs. Weasley didn’t have to do anything, one of the twins smacked him for her.

July 3, 1993

Aurora adored the Weasleys. She loved Arthur, who upon hearing she knew Harry through Muggle primary school, started asking all kinds of questions about the Muggle world. She loved Molly, who cooked the best meals Aurora had ever eaten. She could do without Ron, but the twins made up for his bad attitude, and while Percy was a prat, he kept to himself. And there was Ginny, of course, who she learned shared a lot of the same interests as her.

And one of the things they both loved was Quidditch.

“My mother never lets me play,” Aurora said as she and Ginny walked to a clearing past the trees surrounding the Burrow. Each had a broomstick slung over their shoulder; Aurora had her own Cleansweep Seven her father had sent not long after her arrival at the Weasleys’, and Ginny had Charlie’s old Nimbus 1700. “She’s terrified of flying and had a fit when Dad taught me how to fly when I was four.”

“Terrified of flying? Like Hermione scared?” Ginny asked.

Aurora snickered. “Exactly.”

“So, your dad, Professor Snape, is actually the … cool parent?” Ginny asked with a frown. “Like, he sent you your broom, but that’s probably because your mother wouldn’t. And it was sorta like he was, I dunno, teasing her?”

“Dad has always thought her fear is silly and teases her relentlessly about it. He made it perfectly clear to her that no child of his was going to go to Hogwarts without knowing how to fly. And growing up around Draco, well, Quidditch came naturally.”

“I think you grew up in a parallel universe,” Ginny said as they jumped over a particularly thick root. “Professor Snape is this cheeky bloke who likes a bit of fun, and you make Draco out to be a decent human being.”

“Since starting at Hogwarts, it’s felt like I left another world.”

They entered the clearing, the morning dew still clinging to the grass. They’d come out early, having rolled out of bed long before the boys even stirred. The balls they’d been using the last few mornings were damp from being left outside, which would make it harder to grip for the first little while. The two goal posts they’d made with a couple hula-hoops attached to branches on opposite sides of the clearing were still secure.

Both girls mounted their brooms and kicked off, going as high as the top of the trees before stopping. They made laps in the blinding sunlight, getting a feel for being in the air again.

“Think he’d let you try out for Quidditch?” Ginny asked. “I mean, not this year. There won’t be any openings. But there should be in the next couple years.”

“Dad?” Aurora asked as they came to a stop. “Only reason he wouldn’t would be because I might be better than the Slytherin players, but I doubt that’ll be the case. And either way, Aunt Min would just tell him to fob off.”

“Your life is so weird,” Ginny laughed. Then Gin frowned, her gaze shifting in the direction of the Burrow. “Company coming.”

“What?” She turned in time to see two heads of red hair come hurtling toward them.

“So, this is what you two have been up to,” Fred said as he and George came to a stop just past them.

“You’re going to get us all in trouble if Mum catches you kicking off on the other side of the trees,” Ginny scolded.

“No Muggles for miles,” George replied.

“Not anyone for ages,” Fred said sagely.

“And besides, she’s too busy gushing over Percy for making Head Boy.”

“Of course.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“So how about a game then?” George asked, darting down to the ground and grabbing a ball. “Us against you.”

Ginny looked at Aurora. “I’m the better Keeper.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Okay.”

They turned to the twins and nodded. Matching smirks appeared and they flew away, George throwing the ball to Fred.

“Ready for an easy win, Fred?” Fred called to George.

“Forget who you are?” Aurora asked, her eyebrow arching in a perfect imitation of her father.

“What are you talking about? I’m George,” Fred replied with a sincerity that was nearly believable.

“No, you’re not,” Aurora scoffed.

“How can you tell?”

“George is better looking,” Aurora stated bluntly.

Before Fred could fully get out the indignant “Oi”, she’d zoomed past him and snatched the ball, laughing as she zipped toward the real George keeping score.

—————H—————

August 16, 1975

Diagon Alley was surprisingly quiet as Hermione and Severus went from shop to shop getting what they would need for the school year. Their first stop was for new robes, both having grown throughout the school year.

“You’ve grown another four inches, Mr. Snape,” said Madam Malkin as she stood upright, hands on her hips. “One can certainly not get by on lengthening charms with that big of a difference.”

“Quite,” he said as politely as he could.

With a flick of her wand, the robes that would fit him hovered slightly off the various racks around her shop. “Have a look, then, whilst I get your friend sized up. Not sure I’ve seen you around.”

“No,” Hermione acknowledged. “I had robes passed down to me last year, but this year that isn’t an option. I’m either too short or …” She blushed, glancing at Severus and hoping he was as absorbed in choosing a new set of robes as he appeared to be.

“I understand,” Madam Malkin replied, measuring Hermione discreetly. “All right, my dear,” she said, flicking her wand again. “The hovering robes with a purple aura will fit you with just the slightest bit of alterations.”

Hermione thanked her and moved to the rack nearest Severus to see what was available. She glanced over at him, seeing him holding the sleeve of one robe in his hand with a slightly stunned look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she moved to his side. “Severus?”

His eyes were moving ever so slightly from side to side, and then he glanced at her. His cheeks went pink. “Nothing.” He turned abruptly and headed to another rack entirely, one closer to the counter.

Hermione frowned, picking up the sleeve he had just had in his hand and studied it. Nothing looked off about the robe, though it was not quite as vividly black as the ones nearest the counter. But those were new, awaiting to be tailored, so it made sense. Shrugging to herself, Hermione allowed Severus his mood, and went back to the rack she was looking at. She picked up a robe, pleased to see the length required little changing, though whoever owned it before appeared to have very short arms. She could buy new robes, but she would prefer to have her own books instead of the borrowed texts from the McGonagall children. That, and she wanted to make sure that she had enough for good quality quills, her habit of chewing them and her ability to wear them down still strong. And ink, well, she went through enough pots, that much was true. And while she had earned a decent sum of Galleons from Bob, she didn’t want to waste them.

The thought struck Hermione like a Bludger and she swung her head around to look at Severus before she could stop herself.

She wasn’t the only one who had earned a decent amount of Galleons over the summer, but she was also not the one frequently made fun of for her appearance. She smiled to herself as she watched him pluck three brand new robes off the rack and hand them to Madam Malkin for tailoring. He also gestured to the white collared shirts and she didn’t doubt at all that a new cardigan or two would find its way into his pile.

In the month that he had stayed with them, he hadn’t bulked in anyway, but he certainly looked healthier. The physical labor, time in the sun, and Delia’s tendency to feed him more than he was probably used to outside of Hogwarts softened how much his ribs and spine showed, and helped his face fill out so he wasn’t quite so gaunt. He appeared more graceful now.

Before she got too carried away studying his lithe form, she quickly reapplied herself to finding robes and other pieces of her school uniform for Madam Malkin.

“I’ll have them owled to you,” Madam Malkin said after ringing up Severus’ purchases second.

“Actually, if you could send it to the same address as Hermione’s, I would be grateful,” Severus said swiftly, and Madam Malkin altered the delivery address before they left.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Hermione said cautiously as they reemerged onto the sunny streets, “how did you get deliveries before? From what you’ve said of your father …”

“It would be sent to my grandmother first and she would use Muggle means to get it to us,” he answered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers and tilting his head forward. She waited, hoping he would say more, and he eventually obliged. “My mother was disowned by her father, but her mother refused to follow suit. She was their only child. She’s forbidden to send any money to us, which has made it difficult, and aside from helping my mother with purchasing my wand, she was unable to purchase any items in my name. But Tobias never bothers with the mail, so if packages turn up for me during the summer, he doesn’t notice.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“And you?” he said much more softly. “Lily would have her stuff delivered, but from the way you asked, you … did not?”

Hermione smiled fondly. “No. My dad would just lug it all around. Even the cauldron. He never complained that it was heavy, but his fingers were a bit purple by the time we got home.”

Severus snorted softly, the light grin still playing on his lips as he removed his hand from his pockets and lifted his head. “Speaking of cauldrons, we should visit the apothecary for our non-herbal ingredients.”

They moved along to Slugs and Jiggers, getting only half the Hogwarts list and thoroughly confusing the young wizard working the counter. After that, they popped into Flourish and Blotts, where they got lost for at least an hour before remembering that they had to buy school books. Hermione selected pristine new copies while Severus hunted down near-perfect copies from the second-hand portion of the shop.

“You know full well I will be writing in them anyway,” he said as she cringed at the thought.

They left the bookshop, debating stopping to get something to eat, when Severus paused. He stood taller, chin up and shoulders back, and Hermione was terribly confused for a moment until she saw why.

Having only met the man once and in passing, it took her a moment to discern that she was not looking at an older version of Draco Malfoy, but a quite young Lucius Malfoy. He was dressed in a tailored suit that had far too much embroidery on it, most likely in an attempt to differentiate it from Muggle attire, and his robes were elegantly cut to appear more like a very long, flowing blazer. His hair only just went past his shoulders.

On his arm was a beautiful young woman, her hair a mix of black and blonde, her eyes so much like Draco’s that there was no mistaking that this was his mother. She was dressed impeccably, extravagantly, and in perfect complement to her escort. The pair was heading directly toward them and Hermione instantly became nervous.

Her dress was cut in a wizarding style, and she recalled all the pure-blood etiquette Eileen Snape had mentioned during her brief stay at Spinner’s End. But in that moment, Hermione was sure she would be revealed as a fraud.

“Lucius,” Severus greeted, his voice slightly deeper than normal.

“Severus,” Lucius greeted with a smile. “You look well, far better than you did when I ran into you a couple summers back. How is Hogwarts?”

“Improved,” Severus replied simply.

Lucius smiled. “Glad to hear. I’m sure you remember Narcissa, though she goes by Lady Malfoy these days.”

“Congratulations.” Severus bowed, taking Narcissa’s hand as she offered it and kissed the air above it.

“Thank you, Severus,” she replied with sincerity, her eyes darting to Hermione.

Lucius noticed and began to extend a hand toward Hermione. She robotically extended her own, allowing Lucius to take it lightly in his grasp. “And who is your lovely friend?”

A glance at him told Hermione that Severus was calculating something quickly.

“Hermione Granger-McGonagall,” he said smoothly and without hesitation.

Part of her was elated that Severus had added just enough of a differentiation that in the nearly twenty years when she would start school with Draco, her name wouldn’t match up quite the same. At the same time, she wondered why he thought it a good idea to do so in the first place.

“McGonagall? A relation to the professor?” he asked with an arched brow.

Hermione licked her lips and cleared her throat. “My adopted aunt.”

“Adopted? How strange,” Lucius commented.

“My parents—there was—”

“Hermione lost her parents last year while returning from the Americas,” Severus explained easily.

“And no godparents?” Narcissa gasped, a hand pressed to her chest.

Hermione shook her head. “I was meant to be a ward of the school, under Professor Dumbledore’s care, but Minerva, Professor McGonagall, thought it best I was placed away from where I would spend most of my year.”

“How lucky for you that you were at least given a … different option.” Lucius’s lips curled slightly. “But Granger is an old pure-blood name, not one heard often.”

“Most of my family was in France,” Hermione replied, and it was made easier because it wasn’t a lie. Her father’s family was quite French, and while he didn’t have much of the accent by the time she’d disappeared, all of her relations did.

“Ah, yes.” Lucius nodded. “Purebloods from the continent do not often mingle with British society.”

She wasn’t sure if this was a Slytherin way of asking after her blood status or not, but Hermione thought it best not to be Gryffindor about it. “No, they do not,” she said, going for another stretched truth. “Had my mother not spent a few years there studying, it is quite unlikely my parents would have ever met.”

“What did they do?” Lucius asked.

“I was never allowed to know,” Hermione replied, making a conscious effort to hold eye contact.

“Ah,” Lucius said knowingly. “I understand.” He then turned to Severus. “You’ve certainly moved up in the world since we last spoke. Perhaps I will see you in the Slug Club this year? Horace has been asking old favorites to come back, a sort of alumni venture.”

“Perhaps.”

Lucius made a gesture as though he were handing Hermione over to Severus, and she was surprised when he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Lucius seemed to approve of the gesture. “We should be heading back to the Manor. Good day, Severus. Hermione.” And with a slight bow, Lucius led Narcissa away.

“That was …”

“Indeed.”

“You were brilliant.”

“Aren’t I always?” he said smugly.

“Shut up, you know exactly what I mean.” She gave him a playful swat, getting closer to him in the process. Her heart pounded as she realized quite suddenly that she desperately wanted to kiss him. On the lips, the nose, the cheek, the neck, everywhere. She bloody well wanted to kiss Severus Snape and her Gryffindor sensibilities demanded she do so. Because he was brilliant, and she was grateful. Because he was Severus, and she damn well wanted to.

“I don’t believe I do,” he said arrogantly, an eyebrow cocking and just adding to the desire to shut him up with her lips.

Do it. Do it, do it, do it. Bravery, be brave, do it.

“Shall we go to the Leaky Cauldron, then? If we don’t save at least a small amount of shopping for when we meet Lily next week, even if it is only of the window variety, she’ll be intolerable our entire time out.”

Cowardice won out, and Hermione stepped back from him. “But not insufferable?”

“No,” Severus said with a laugh. “That title is meant only for you.”

She blushed at the half-insult and couldn’t think of anything to say in return.

He was still holding her hand against the crook of his arm and she very nearly couldn’t think.

—————A—————

August 31, 1993

“Shit!” her mother swore, and Aurora was so startled that she nearly tripped over her own feet, her book bag slipping on her shoulder. She looked up and around, seeing nothing in the immediate vicinity that would cause her mother to swear. Even Leo staring at her with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Mum,” he gasped, but Hermione ignored him

Whipping out her wand, she gave it a flick and the silver wisps that preceded her beautiful raven Patronus swirled around the Snape children before the majestic bird formed. It landed on the mantel, its head tilted in a way that always reminded Aurora of her father.

“I need you here in Diagon Alley,” she told it, and the bird flew out of a window.

“Mum, can’t we—” Leo started to say, but he was hushed quickly.

“Do not draw attention, Leo, darling,” her mother said gently. “I can’t be seen right now.”

Aurora frowned and peered around the corner while her mother ushered Leo behind a beam. She caught a head of red hair and understood immediately: the Weasleys were here.

She remembered when her mother had come to the Burrow to collect her. It was early in the morning, too early for anyone but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to have been up, even though the excitement of their big lottery win hadn’t died down. Molly Weasley had frowned and stared at Hermione Snape, mouth moving a little as though trying to form words.

“I know we’ve met before,” she said. “But I feel as though I’ve seen you again more recently and I just can’t put my finger on why.”

“Maybe we’ve seen each other in Diagon Alley without realizing it.” Her mother smiled that knowing grin whenever she encountered someone whom she’d met as a girl. Hagrid had a similar reaction the summer before Aurora began at Hogwarts. Shopping in Diagon Alley for school supplies had that grin nearly permanently plastered on her mother’s face.

Aurora watched the Weasleys and Harry for a moment before realizing that Hermione Granger was with them. And she had a cat.

Aurora put her hands on her hips and scowled. “You said we couldn’t have one!”

“Have one what?” her mother asked absently as she anxiously watched the fireplace.

“A cat.” That got her mother’s attention. “You have one, right there, in the Leaky. It’s ugly and orange, but you have one, so why couldn’t we?”

She instantly regretted asking as a wistful pain crossed her mother’s face. “Maybe we will,” she replied just before the flames flared green.

Brushing soot off his robes, her father scowled. “I was finishing a vital stage of a delicate potion, this had best be important.”

“I’m here,” her mother said through her teeth.

“Yes, as am I. I would like to know why.”

“No, you great bloody git. I’m here.”

At this, Aurora’s father sobered, glancing in the main area before turning back to his wife with an arched brow. “You didn’t remember you’d be here?”

“It’s been twenty years, Severus. Allow me some forgetful moments.”

“You have a cat.”

“Yes.”

“It’s quite ugly.”

“Why is everyone dwelling on that?”

“It would appear as though you have a soft spot for ugly things.”

Her mother’s tension melted away and a tender smile lit her eyes. She reached out and touched her husband’s cheek, and Aurora was overcome with the mix of romanticism and nausea that always accompanied seeing her parents’ affection these days.

“You know perfectly well I don’t think you’re ugly in the least,” Hermione Snape said softly before standing on her toes and placing a kiss on her husband’s cheek. His lips twitched in a facsimile of a grin, and Aurora rolled her eyes toward Leo, who looked utterly disgusted.

“Go,” Aurora heard her father say. “Take Leo to Hogsmeade. I’ll join both of you there for lunch once I get our daughter through the crowd.”

“Sounds lovely,” her mother said, turning to Leo with a hand extended.

“You said that we could go for ice cream.”

“I believe they have ice cream in Hogsmeade, love,” she replied with a grin.

“Not as good as Fortescue’s.” Leo pouted.

“Perhaps not, but we’re not staying here today, and I promise we’ll come again on Friday when your sister and dad are at school.”

“All right,” Leo said with an exaggerated sigh that would have been more believable had he not been grinning like a loon. He took their mother’s hand and let her Floo them to Hogsmeade.

“What did you forget?” he asked her once they were alone.

“I didn’t,” Aurora replied. “Mum had to have my robes resized. Apparently I had a growth spurt in the last month. She sent them ahead to Madam Malkin but couldn’t bring me around for the fitting until now.”

“Unlike your mother to cut it so close,” he observed as he put a hand on her shoulder and guided her through the Leaky Cauldron.

“She got caught up with that book …”

“Say no more,” he said with a smile, and Aurora couldn’t help but notice how quiet the room got.

“Oi, Snape,” she heard George call, causing both of them to stop. George paled a bit at the attention, and Aurora could only imagine the cold sneer her dad was wearing. George visibly swallowed. “Rory. Rory Snape, I mean. Not you, Professor.”

“Quite.”

“See you lot in a bit, yeah?” she said, returning Ginny’s little wave before her father guided her out.

“You were planning on staying here this evening? Going with the Weasleys and Potter to the train?” he asked as they neared the entrance.

“Yeah.”

“Your trunk is in my rooms; I will have the house-elves take it to the tower this evening. You have what you need in there?” he asked, gesturing to the bag on her shoulder. She nodded. “Good. If you forgot anything else, your mother will have to deal with it, damn the consequences if they recognize her.”

“You’re in a right mood,” Aurora risked a tease, looking up at her father.

“Just practicing for the coming term,” he said, and Aurora snorted, shaking her head, and tried to keep it at just that as she watched other students move out of their way as they walked down the street.

September 1, 1993

“The pyramids were awfully boring, really, but watching the sunset over the village was just gorgeous,” Ginny sighed, and Aurora felt a pang of jealousy at hearing about the Weasleys’ trip to Egypt.

“Furthest I’ve been is Italy where my grandmother lives,” Aurora replied before taking a bite of her cauldron cake.

“Hope I’ll get to see Charlie in Romania one day. And maybe Percy will move to France or some other place,” Ginny mused as she nibbled on her pumpkin pasty. “Though I don’t know if it would be worth visiting the prat just to see the sights.”

“He’s my least favorite of your brothers and considering how Ron still looks at me like I’m flobberworm mucus on his shoe, that’s saying something.”

Ginny laughed, nodding her head as the train slowed down.

The girls’ mirth left them, and they looked out the window. It didn’t do much good, with fog on the inside pane and the rain pelting on the outside.

Neville, who was reading quietly beside Ginny, looked up from his Herbology book. “We aren’t there already, are we?”

“I don’t see the village lights, so we can’t be,” Ginny replied. A shadow moved by their window, and suddenly the lights went out.

Panic seized Aurora so strongly she found it hard to breathe.

“Rory?” she heard Ginny’s worried voice beside her. The daylight from the window wasn’t enough, not even close, and Aurora fought back tears as she reached into her bag and grabbed her wand. It was hard to focus while nearly hyperventilating, the screaming in her head made it hard to think. “Lu-Lu- Lumos .” She finally managed to light the tip, and while it wasn’t bright enough, it eased the urge to scream.

“Oh,” Ginny gasped as she caught sight of Aurora’s face. “That’s why you never mind the jar of flames.”

A blush suffused her cheeks, shame mixing with embarrassment that was only tempered by the fact that Neville didn’t understand what Ginny was saying.

“Think I saw Hermione in the car next to us,” he said, getting up and heading for the door. “She always knows what’s going on.”

Yes, Hermione. She wasn’t precisely the version of her mum the little girl inside her wanted at the moment, but she was a near thing. Why hadn’t her mother warned her about …

“I’m coming with you.” Aurora sprang from her seat, her eyes barely adjusted to the dark.

“Wait, I’m not staying in here alone,” Ginny said, and Aurora felt her hand clutched tight in Ginny’s as they managed to navigate their way out the compartment and down the corridor.

Someone collided with Aurora just as they were reaching for the door and caused her to stumble back into Ginny.

“Who’s that?” Hermione asked.

“It’s Rory and Gin,” Aurora replied.

“Neville?” Ginny asked.

“I’m here,” he said, sounding winded.

“Come in,” Hermione said, and Aurora felt her hand ushering her inside.

The tip of her wand was utterly pointless to see with and as a result, Aurora’s foot made contact with someone else’s. She fell ungracefully into a lap.

“You can’t sit here, I’m here,” Harry replied, clearly having had enough of the situation already.

“It’s not like I knew you were there.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, and she felt his hand guiding her into the spot next to him.

“Quiet,” a hoarse voice commanded, and everyone in the car fell silent.

There was a crackling noise and a blue fireball lit the room, easing the tension Aurora had been repressing since the darkness fell. The man’s face was scarred, and he looked downright haggard, but there was something about his presence that reminded Aurora vaguely of her father, and she felt more at ease. Despite desperately wanting to ask who he was and why he was on the train, Aurora kept her mouth shut and watched as he maneuvered around everyone’s feet to the door. “Stay where you are,” he said as he reached for the door handle.

Before he could reach it, the door opened, and something slunk inside.

Cold unlike anything she’d ever felt overcame her and a sadness settled in her chest to the point that she couldn’t breathe. Ginny was shaking terribly beside her, and Harry slid off his seat onto the floor.

“ Expecto Patronum !” the man said firmly, and the silver wisps Aurora had seen many times in her life brightened the room before a mighty wolf emerged and gave a silent howl before chasing off whatever was in the doorway.

Moments later, the lights came back on, and the man was panting furiously. He pushed his hair from his face before turning back to them. He looked at Aurora as she wrapped her arms around a sobbing Ginny, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large bar of chocolate. Unwrapping it hastily, he broke off a piece and handed it to her sobbing friend.

“Eat that, it will help,” he instructed, eyes lingering on Aurora a moment.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted, and she was down on the floor beside him in a moment, Ron behind her. Neville stood to position himself beside the man, who looked at Hermione in confusion.

“Bollocks,” Aurora murmured under her breath.

He was her father’s age, which meant he was also her mother’s age. And here she was, twenty years younger.

“Professor?” Ron asked just before Hermione gave Harry a hearty slap.

Harry startled into awareness, and after a quick explanation from Professor Lupin, everyone settled in for the last leg of the journey. No one spoke and Aurora was fairly certain Ginny drifted off at one point. The whole time the same thoughts circled in Aurora’s mind: the new professor knew her mother, and Hermione was about to enter her last year at Hogwarts in this decade. All they needed now was that crazed mass-murderer from the posters to come near the castle and cause mayhem, and the year would just be an absolute breeze to get through.

—————S—————

September 1, 1975

“Welcome, once again, to another year at Hogwarts!” Professor Dumbledore greeted the students at the start of the feast.

Severus tried his absolute best not to roll his eyes. Yes, welcome. Maybe if you were in one of the three other houses. As it was, while the headmaster addressed the school, he barely looked in the Slytherins’ direction.

“I would like to remind everyone that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to students—” Dumbledore continued.

“Unless you have detention,” Rookwood grumbled. “Then you get to watch the great oaf lumber.”

“That was once,” Mulciber replied.

Severus smirked as the others chuckled, but his heart simply wasn’t in it. He didn’t want to be with his Slytherin brothers, no matter how much he appreciated the mockery they made of Dumbledore or the Gryffindors.

Where he wanted to be was on the other side of the Great Hall, beside the girl who had her back to him at the moment. It wasn’t with Lily, who kept catching his eye and smiling.

“Mr. Filch has added to the list of items banned from the castle, which has been posted in all your common rooms. And also, as Professor Jones has not returned to us this year due to a change in career …” Dumbledore rambled.

“More like from embarrassment,” Regulus chimed in, earning some snickers from the others.

“… it is my pleasure to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alastor Moody.”

“Fuck,” Avery said as the school applauded. There were a handful of Slytherins who didn’t join in and another handful who looked at those who didn’t and clearly wondered if maybe they shouldn’t have either.

“What is it?” Severus asked, watching Mulciber and Rookwood exchange uneasy looks.

“Alastor Moody is an Auror, and a damn good one,” Rookwood replied.

“But he has a vendetta against anyone with even the slightest interest in the Dark Arts,” Avery hissed. “And he especially doesn’t appreciate what the Dark Lord is trying to do to make our world better.”

“He’ll have it out for all us Slytherins,” Mulciber stated, the other seventh years nodding. “Rumor has it that he’s a close friend of our illustrious headmaster and trusts in his opinion. And we all know how Dumbledore feels about Slytherin. You most of all, Snape.”

That was all too true and with a glance at the Marauders, who had blissfully left him, Hermione, and Lily alone on the train this year, reminded him exactly how blatantly Dumbledore favored his pet lions. They were already rowdy and obnoxious, and Severus could see the tension in Hermione’s shoulder blades.

But as Severus glanced up at the head table, he nearly snorted at the sight of Minerva McGonagall with pursed lips and a tight grip on her fork. She must have felt eyes on her, for she turned toward him and upon catching his eye, gave a subtle shake of her head and an eye roll before she remembered herself and where they were.

Oh yes, this year was going to be different. A competent Defense teacher, even if he was going to have it out for the Slytherins, and an adult ally among the Gryffindors.

Chapter Text

—————H—————

September 2, 1993

“Severus!” Hermione heard Remus shout through the closed unwarded door from where she sat in her husband’s office chair. They’d had a feeling that this would happen when Albus had announced who would be joining the staff before the start of term.

Hermione watched the knob turn and waited.

“Severus,” Remus burst in, not yet looking to the desk as he closed the door and set up silencing charms. “I need to ask you some questions I already know you’re not going to like.” Remus turned and froze.

“Hello, Remus,” Hermione greeted him with a gentle smile.

He remained stunned, staring at her. “Hermione,” he breathed as she got to her feet. She moved around the desk and he instantly wrapped his arms around her. She returned the embrace, though not as tightly or with as much feeling. She’d missed Remus, of course. His years after the Potters’ death were a bit of a mystery since he barely kept in touch with anyone. But to Remus, this was more, and she was aware of it.

He eventually loosened his grip and pulled back, taking her in while holding on to her loosely. “The years have treated you well. Though I admit I … I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Because of—”

“Yes.”

“You know I wouldn’t have left because of that. I knew the truth, and even if he had stayed longer than a couple weeks, I would have waited,” she said, stepping further away from Remus now that she knew what he hoped for.

“It would have been your right to leave him,” he said, not unkindly. “Azkaban does things to a wizard, and you had a small child.”

“Which, I’m guessing, is the reason you’re in my husband’s office,” she replied, gently extricating herself from Remus’ hold.

His eyes flashed hurt at the mention of what Severus still was to her, his empty arms hanging at his side a moment before he nodded. “I … I didn’t think you had two children.”

“I do,” Hermione said. “But Leo is only eight, he won’t be a student for a few years yet.”

Remus frowned; melancholy completely wiped away by his confusion.

“Leo,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

Remus’ brow furrowed further. “Aurora Snape. She’s—”

“My eldest.”

“So, who is Hermione Granger then?”

Hermione took a deep breath, feeling out her body for the physical warnings as she thought of making the confession. There was nothing more than flutters, so she answered with a simple, “Me.”

Remus laughed. “Yes, that was you. But who’s this girl in my Defense class who has your name and looks so much like you?”

Her lips curled.

“ Me ,” she repeated with emphasis.

Remus opened his mouth and then stopped. He dragged a hand over his face, his eyes calculating.

The door opened and Severus walked in, followed by Leo. He took one look at the scene and then turned to his son. “To my rooms or Aunt Min’s.”

“Can I see Rory?” Leo asked hopefully.

“Only if she happens to be in the halls. We talked about this last year, you cannot go chasing after your sister while she’s at school. Now, my rooms or Aunt Min’s. And no, you cannot see Hagrid, there was an … incident earlier, and he’s a bit occupied at the moment.”

Leo pouted. “I’ll be in your rooms,” he sulked before dragging his feet to the concealed door in the office. He went through and shut it behind him, the door to vanishing after him.

“He looks exactly as you did as a child.” Remus gaped after the boy.

“Yes,” Severus said. “But with luck, my reputation and his sister’s will prevent anyone from tormenting him simply because he exists.” Severus smoothly moved to stand next to Hermione, and she nearly rolled her eyes as she felt Severus’ arm slip around her waist and clutch her possessively. “Now, what heartfelt reunion did we interrupt?”

Remus blushed. “I was enquiring about Hermione Granger.”

“I married her fourteen years ago, I’m afraid you’re too late,” Severus stated.

“No. I don’t mean … I mean the one in my third year Gryffindor/Slytherin Defense class.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Severus said. “And again, I married her fourteen years ago. And seeing as how, for her, this is before she meets us in our youth, anything you say or do will not affect the outcome of those years. She’s already lived them.”

She smiled at him, her heart swelling with gratitude and love that her husband interceded and told Remus what she probably couldn’t. Oh, she’d played the scenario out in her mind countless times, really believing she would tell Remus the details. But unless she pictured telling him after Hermione Granger vanished from Hogwarts, she still risked breaking her Vow. And here was Severus, her partner and best friend even after all these years, telling Remus what she couldn’t.

Remus stared at them as though hit by a Stunner before he burst out laughing, doubling over with the effort.

“I very nearly believed you,” he gasped out, but slowly sobered when he realized they weren’t joking. “But it’s not possible. How?”

Severus looked at Hermione, and she bit her lip with indecision.

He turned to Remus. “Exactly as she’s always told us: an accident. Any more than that and I fear your Gryffindor brashness may try to stop her using the means by which the accident occurred. If you do that, who knows what will happen. Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time, even if they did not travel through it themselves.”

Remus focused on Hermione. “So, she’s really you.”

“Yes.”

“And you went back in time knowing … knowing us. Knowing everything that was going to happen,” Remus stated.

“You have to understand, Remus,” she pleaded as she stepped out of Severus’ hold. She placed a hand on Remus’ arm, getting him to look at her even as his eyes glittered. “I couldn’t do or say anything that would change the past. Lily, James, Sirius, all those things … I was bound not to say anything. I couldn’t warn them about …” Her heart gave a mighty stutter and her breath caught so suddenly her knees gave out.

Two sets of arms caught her before she hit the ground.

“Easy, H.,” Severus said gently. “Watch what you say.”

“Right,” she gasped, seeing understanding replace pain in Remus’ eyes.

“A Vow. So, you couldn’t even hint.” She shook her head, and Remus nodded, stepping away. He paced as Severus straightened Hermione and held her against him, running a hand soothingly up and down her spine as her breathing evened out and her heart steadied.

“There is still one thing that’s troubling me,” he said, and when he faced them once again, she could tell the storm had passed and whatever he was about to say was in jest. “If you knew us all as we are now, then what in Merlin’s name made you choose Severus ?”

—————H—————

September 2, 1975

She wondered if she would always feel like this at the beginning of every September, or if there would be a reprieve from feeling her loss so acutely. Hermione had been fine when she and Severus met Lily in Diagon Alley a couple days before, and Lily had announced she’d been made prefect.

But it hadn’t sunk in, not really, not until they were on the train and Lily proclaimed she had to go to the prefect car for a while, and then do her rounds before coming back. Until, of course, they got to the school and she would have to ride in the prefect carriage.

It should not have made her feel as though everything she had ever done was for naught, but when faced with the reality that she would never actually achieve the goals she’d hoped for at Hogwarts: prefect, Head Girl, top marks all seven years, Hermione crumpled. What was the point, really? Yes, a magical education was important. But now, well, she didn’t have the reputation to give her the titles she’d longed for from her first read through of Hogwarts: A History .

And her birthday was coming again. Sixteen. But how does one mention that in a conversation? Lily had managed last year through a self-absorbed conversation, and Hermione could never blatantly blurt it out. She was still quite certain that Delia and Bob hadn’t found out when it was. Not that Hermione didn’t think they cared, but they hadn’t asked, and after the previous year …

“So, I was thinking since we’re the Gryffindor prefects this year,” Lily said to Remus as she tossed her hair over her shoulder, revealing the shiny prefect badge pinned to her collar, “we should do our rounds together. I don’t feel like we know each other well.”

“You could always hang around with us instead of the greasy git,” James suggested. “You know you want to, Evans. You can even bring Granger along, if you really want to.”

Hermione didn’t even have the gumption to roll her eyes at him. She’d been pushing porridge around in her bowl, trying not to fall prey to her own pity party and failing spectacularly.

“I’d personally love it if she came along,” Sirius said, but Hermione still didn’t bother lifting her head.

Instead, she dropped her spoon, picked up her bag, and slid off the bench. Without a word or backward glance, she left the Great Hall.

Defense was the first class of the day and while she had no desire whatsoever to face the grisly-looking man who she’d heard barking at students on her way to breakfast, it was better than being surrounded by reminders of what she’d lost.

A hand closed on her shoulder and she stopped.

“You have been moping since we got on the train. I’m well aware my company is not that riveting, so our being separated cannot possibly have you so morose.”

Her lips curled involuntarily. “Actually, I quite enjoy your company,”

“Yet we both know that’s not why you’re like this.” He gently turned her to him to study her face. “It’s the accident, isn’t it? Something has brought it to the forefront.” Hermione nodded sadly, eyes dropping to the floor. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You would think it’s stupid,” she said, sniffing.

“I might. But that’s a risk you’re going to have to take, isn’t it?” he said with a shrug.

She considered it, peeking at him through her lashes. “I should have been a prefect,” she mumbled, her heart beating uncomfortably. “I was working to it. I would have gotten it, I’m sure, but—” she gasped, her breath hitching as her heart gave a mighty lurch. It had been so long since she felt the Vow restrict her that while they were only warning signs, they still took her breath away.

“Hermione, look at me,” Severus commanded, and her wide eyes shot to his. He put his other hand on her shoulder, tightening the grip he had on them. “Breathe. It’s not worth it. All it would have done was eat into your time spent in the library or with a book, so you could go around and catch idiots sneaking food. Or as my mother suggested, shagging in open alcoves. And yes, there is a fancy bathroom, but what of it? Would you really want to share a bathroom with twelve pubescent wizards and eleven witches who will spend all morning in there applying their charms? Do you really want to get stuck with firsties asking inane questions or getting lost for the dozenth time?”

“Well, when you shine such a negative light on it,” she grumbled.

“What else would I be besides the eternal pessimist?”

She snickered. “Severus Snape and a positive outlook. Yes, I can see how well those two would blend.”

He quirked a brow, amusement glinting in his eyes, but he never cracked a smile.

“Hey, Sev!” Lily came up behind him quite suddenly, dropping her arm around his shoulder and startling both him and Hermione. She noticed that as his left hand slipped from her shoulder, his wand appeared in it as if a Finite had been cast and canceled a concealing spell. Lily hadn’t noticed any of this, studying his head as she was. “Did you do something with your hair? It’s different.”

Severus sidestepped away from both of them, his right hand raised slightly as if he was about to touch it before he stopped himself.

“No,” he said gruffly.

“Are you sure? It looks so good.”

Hermione actually looked at it, brow furrowed even as Severus’ looked at her with a hint of panic in his eyes.

“I honestly don’t see anything too different,” she said with a shrug. “It looks like it has since—” She suddenly understood it looked less greasy like it had each morning while he was staying with her. By lunch, it was oily again because of the work and the summer heat, but each morning and even most nights, his hair had a silken look to it after his shower.

“Since when?” Lily asked, reaching out and fingering a raven lock.

“What are you doing?” Severus hissed, stepping away from her again.

Lily looked hurt, and a little confused. “Sorry, it just looked so soft.”

“I never gave you permission to touch it,” Severus said through his teeth.

Lily laughed. “Since when do I need permission to touch you, Sev?” She stepped up to him again, bumping him with her shoulder.

“We’re going to be late for class,” Hermione interrupted. “And I’m not sure about you two, but I really don’t want to begin our year on the wrong side of Professor Moody.”

“Yes, it would be particularly unwise for me to do so,” Severus said, adjusting his new leather messenger bag before setting off.

The three walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with more than a little apprehension. Professor Moody was a bit scary-looking, if Hermione were honest. There was a bit missing from his nose and his hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in a decade. He stared at the students as they filed in, focusing more on the Slytherins. He narrowed his eyes on Severus, flanked by two Gryffindors.

Hermione looked around the room, noticing a couple Slytherins were looking at Lily as if they pitied her, though Hermione didn’t quite understand why. She’d seen them direct looks of loathing at Lily, especially the older Slytherins. But not pity.

“This is Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he said in a clipped tone. “Defense starts with knowledge. Who can tell me why the Dark Arts are so addictive?” He looked around the room, and for the first time in her academic career, Hermione had absolutely no desire to raise her hand. She could feel Severus look at her from the corner of his eye.

“You,” Professor Moody said, looking straight at Severus.

Severus stiffened.

“Well?” Professor Moody snapped, staring Severus in the eye without blinking.

“The Dark Arts can be seductive,” Severus replied. “Its power can lure even the strongest wizard.”

“There’s a high.” Professor Moody nodded. “Makes a witch or wizard feel stronger than they are.” His eyes shot to Hermione, and she felt a niggle in her mind as though she’d forgotten something. “So how do we stop it?”

Hermione pulled her gaze away and looked around the room. Everyone was riveted, awaiting the know-it-all’s answer.

“We can’t,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because it is ever-changing,” Severus answered for her. He was confident, more than he usually was in class. “Once someone believes they know how to put it to rest, a great darkness comes along.”

“So how do we defend ourselves?” Professor Moody asked, a hint of intrigue to his voice.

“As you said: knowledge.”

Professor Moody smirked, and it was a sight that made Hermione squirm uneasily.

“We will learn to think like Dark Wizards and through that, we learn to defend.”

Professor Moody snapped his wand toward the blackboard and words began to appear in an unsteady hand.

Hermione took notes and did her best to keep her head down and not draw attention to herself. She still felt Professor Moody’s eyes on her.

“Of course Snivellus knows all about the Dark Arts,” she heard Sirius whisper behind them. “He knows more hexes and curses than most seventh years.”

Severus stopped writing, his body tensing.

“He just hopes its powers of seduction are transferable to him. Merlin knows he’d never get anyone’s attention otherwise,” James added, earning a quiet snort from Sirius and Peter.

“You lot,” Professor Moody snapped, the room startling at once. “What are you gossiping about?”

“Just the accuracy in which Sniv—Snape described the Dark Arts and their … tempting wiles,” Sirius said with a roguish grin that caused a few of the Gryffindors to chuckle uncomfortably and the Slytherins look angered and confused.

“Oh. Believe yourself immune to them, do you?” Professor Moody asked. Before Sirius could answer, the professor continued. “Because let me tell you: it doesn’t matter what house you were placed in at school. Great Aurors have come from all of them, but so have Dark wizards.” He turned, looking at each person in the room. “Doesn’t matter what color tie you wear, it’s what you do that matters.” He looked at Sirius, squinting. “You’re a Black.”

“I am,” Sirius replied, chin raised.

“Haven’t known a Black yet that wasn’t a little Dark,” Moody shot back.

“I’m also the first to be sorted in a house other than Slytherin in centuries,” Sirius boasted proudly.

“Just means you aren’t sly enough to know when to keep your mouth shut.” Professor Moody turned his back, ignoring the snickers from the Slytherins.

The rest of the class continued smoothly, even if the man was a bit abrupt and loud at times. Hermione was eager to escape and head off to Runes with Severus when the professor stuck out his arm and caught her before she made it to the door. “You’re Granger?” he asked, and she nodded. “Stay after class.” He then looked at Severus. “You can go.”

“Can he stay?” Hermione asked quickly. Lily passed, looking confused but didn’t stop. Care of Magical Creatures was too far from Defense to risk being late.

Professor Moody looked unsure for a moment and glanced at the door as the last student left. “Wait outside,” he ordered gruffly. Severus did as he asked, and once he was past the threshold, the professor flicked his wand and the door slammed shut.

“Dumbledore told me about you,” he cut to the chase, “about your knowledge of the future.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked, chewing the inside of her cheek to stop herself from lashing out.

“Sometimes the things in your head aren’t as safe as you want them to be. Like how much you fancy that Slytherin friend of yours.”

Hermione blushed to her roots. “I—”

“It’s in your head, girl. I’m a shit Legilimens, but even I could poke around enough to pick up on that.” He then flicked his wand at the door, and revealed Severus standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “You. In,” Moody said, and Severus did as instructed. The door slammed shut again. “I was telling Granger here how her mind isn’t safe. You, though, you got some walls up. You’re a natural, and I think you might be able to help.”

“With what?” Severus asked uncertainly, looking more than a bit off-put by the idea of someone rooting through his mind.

“Occlumency.”

—————A—————

September 1, 1993

“Rory,” Harry said from a few seats down, and Aurora turned her attention to him. “Why does your dad hate Professor Lupin?”

If Aurora were quite honest, she hadn’t really been looking at her dad. In fact, she’d been trying really hard not to think of the possibility that her dad did know Professor Lupin, and therefore the possibility of everything going sideways when it came to Hermione Granger’s presence.

“He doesn’t, but he’s not happy about him being here,” she said, and when the confused looks of all the nearby Gryffindors were suddenly turned toward her, she chuckled again. The food appeared, but no one reached for it just yet. “If my dad really, truly hates someone, he doesn’t even acknowledge their presence. You may have noticed how he pretended Lockhart wasn’t here at all last year? Unless it was necessary, like dueling club.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione mumbled, looking at her plate with a light blush. Of course she noticed anything pertaining to Lockhart.

“Yes, well, that’s how Dad hates someone. I would say that, if anything, his presence is not as welcome as it could be. Aside from that, I don’t know.” She shrugged and started helping herself to the food in front of her.

Harry and Ron looked apprehensive, but Hermione gave a swift nod in understanding.

Aurora glanced up at the table, and saw her dad poking at his food and watching Professor Lupin suspiciously. Feeling eyes on him, his gaze shot to hers, widening ever so slightly. “‘Come see me,” he mouthed, and Aurora nodded.

—————A—————

Aurora made her way through the castle to her father’s rooms in the dungeons. It was past curfew, but since the feast went to curfew, it was kind of hard to see her father beforehand.

She was just approaching the staircase leading to his room when someone rounded the corner and gave a mighty yelp.

“Aurora!” Madam Pomfrey clutched her chest.

“Sorry, Aunt Poppy,” Aurora whispered.

“What in the blazes are you doing out of bed?” she demanded, hands on Aurora’s shoulders as if she didn’t know whether to pull her closer or shove her back in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

“Dad said he wanted to see me,” she replied, keeping her voice low. “Sounded like it was important.”

Poppy gave a sharp intake of breath and frowned. She mumbled things under her breath that didn’t sound too pleasant, and then let her shoulders sag. “Let me walk you to his rooms, then.”

One hand came off Aurora’s shoulder, the other gliding along Aurora’s back so that her arm was secured around her shoulders. Aurora allowed Poppy to guide her to the door and even knock for her. It was probably because of Poppy’s firm knock that her father’s deep voice rumbled a neutral ‘Enter.’

Poppy gave Aurora a gentle push inside and then followed before passing her to stand in the sitting room with hands on her hips.

“Severus Tobias Snape!” she said sternly.

Oh, well, this was going to be interesting. Even her mother never used her father’s middle name when she was angry with him. Aurora scooted to stand just inside the room.

“I know exactly why you have called your daughter down here, and I know full well you were told not to reveal that information. Were you willing to kill yourself to tell her or were you going to hint around it?” Poppy scolded an unaffected Severus Snape, much to Aurora’s amusement.

“I was only going to warn her to be extremely wary of our new professor, particularly around the time when it’s best to pick most potions ingredients.”

“Why do I need to be careful around Professor Lupin on the full moon?” Aurora asked with a tilt of her head as Poppy huffed and crossed her arms.

“No reason,” her father said as he stood and moved to the bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines. “I never did take Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Severus,” Poppy warned again.

“Dad?” Aurora said.

He turned toward her. “You’re nearly as voracious a reader as your mother. I’m sure if you were to ask her younger counterpart if you can glance through the third year Defense textbook, she would gladly let you. So long as you handle it with the utmost care. I think you would find a chapter in the book quite … enlightening.”

“‘Kay,” she said, glancing at Poppy who still looked annoyed but satisfied that her dad didn’t say what she clearly thought he was going to.

“Now, get to bed,” he said, shooing her away. She was just at the door with Poppy behind her when she heard, “And three points from Gryffindor for being out of the tower after curfew.” When Aurora whirled around to argue, he smiled. “I said come see me, I never said it had to be tonight.”

—————A—————

September 2, 1993

“What are they going on about?” Ginny asked as she and Aurora entered the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were going at it in hissing tones.

“Professor Trelawney predicted Harry’s gonna die,” Seamus replied.

Aurora snorted. “Trelawney has predicted my parents’ divorce for as long as I can remember.”

“Sorry, know he’s your dad and all, but still find it hard to wrap my brain around the fact someone actually married the great bloody bat,” Seamus said before nervously glancing at the head table.

“What else did she say?” Ginny asked.

“Said that Hermione had no future,” Seamus replied, and Aurora froze.

“She couldn’t have possibly said that,” Ginny said with a snort. “Hermione? Lauded as the brightest witch of her age? No future.”

Aurora shifted, appetite lost.

“Said that Hermione would not see the end of the year.”

Aurora let out a mirthless laugh, then resumed eating. While Ginny shifted uneasily, she said, “My parents have been together for something like sixteen years. Trelawney may get the odd prediction right, but for the most part, she spouts utter delusions. Hermione will probably drop the course and therefore, not see the end of the year.”

“Suppose that makes sense,” Seamus agreed just as Hermione slammed a book open, sending bits of food flying at Ron.

“We have a free period after this,” Ginny said, pulling Aurora’s attention away from the trio. “Want to pop up to the common room? Play some Exploding Snap with me and Colin?”

Aurora groaned. “Fine, just don’t brag too much when you annihilate me, all right?”

Ginny grinned wickedly. “No promises.”

—————H—————

September 2, 1975

“It’s… complicated,” Severus said as he and Hermione huddled under the birch tree by the Black Lake looking over the book they borrowed from the library. Madam Pince was not too pleased to see the loan happen, as she was whenever a book left the library. But since it was them, she let it go with only half the annoyance she usually had.

“It seems nearly impossible.”

“And why does Professor Moody want you to keep your mind hidden?” Severus asked with only the slightest inflection. It was almost as if he knew the answer and was only checking if Hermione would tell him the truth. Which, really, she couldn’t if she wanted to.

“Probably because of the reason I’m here now,” she answered. The mixture of truth and vagueness guaranteed her friend would not detect deceit while preventing even the slightest symptoms of the Vow.

Severus hummed in acceptance. “That I can believe,” he mumbled, and Hermione’s lips twitched with satisfaction. “It’ll be a challenge, that’s for sure. But it’ll be a useful skill. Imagine being able to control your every reaction to every stimulus?” He turned to her, his black eyes locking onto hers. “One could appear calm and in control in a situation that may have left them a stuttering, blubbering mess. You could feel deeply for someone and they would only know if you let them. Imagine never having to worry about having your feelings hurt because they were tucked away behind a wall where no one could touch or manipulate them.”

Hermione hoped that the sun was at the proper angle for her to explain away the slight reddening of her cheeks. Her heart didn’t know if it wanted to soar or shrink, burst with the affection she had for him or drop down to her feet to hide everything she felt.

“It would certainly …” She found herself at a loss for what to say, and his steadfast gaze on her certainly didn’t help. “It would prevent a lot of heartache, I think.”

Severus snorted, finally looking away and breaking the spell he had over her. Hermione blinked rapidly, hoping he didn’t notice the slight heave to her chest as she caught her breath.

“And what are you two up to?” Lily asked as she sat on Severus’ other side.

Severus shifted to sit up straighter, bowing his head and hiding behind his hair. “A task Moody assigned us.”

Ah yes, of course. How could she have forgotten? Who had hurt Severus the year before by standing him up? Yes, he seemed to have lost his romantic interest in Lily, but if he was a natural, as Moody pointed out, he’d have already been able to control that, wouldn’t he? He’d be able to repress all the strong emotions she’d caused.

Jealousy welled in Hermione unchecked and she shifted away from the pair.

“To you both?” Lily asked. “I thought he only asked Hermione to stay.”

“He did. She asked if I could join her. After a brief conference, he allowed it.”

“So, whatever it is Professor Moody is asking, he doesn’t think she can do it alone. He thinks she’ll need your brilliant mind.”

“Why are you doing this, Lily?” Severus asked with annoyance. The tone caught Hermione’s attention, and she turned her head to hear them better.

“Doing what?” she asked.

“The compliments to my looks and my intelligence? The latter which you haven’t done in a while, and the former which you never have.”

“Oh, well, can’t I just notice when my friend does something to make himself more … interesting?”

“Interesting?”

“Attractive.”

“Attractive?” The condescension in Severus’ tone had Hermione shifting back to where she’d been before so she could see what was going on.

Lily had stretched across the grass in such a way that she was propped on Severus’ outstretched legs at the knee. She was smiling coyly, her long hair cascading behind her and pooling on the ground.

“You can’t say that you haven’t made an effort. You look healthier, your clothes fit better,” she said, gesturing to him.

“And that makes me worth your attention now, does it? I have come a modicum closer to the likes of Potter and Black, so now I’m worthy of notice.”

“Don’t be like that, Sev,” Lily said, her smile fading entirely. “You were always worth my notice. We’re friends, best friends, and have been since we were kids. But you’ve changed, and it’s for the better.”

“Well, miracles happen when one can afford things for the first time in one’s pitiful existence,” he sneered. “And I believe the health you are referring to comes from hard work away from the slums.”

“What did you do all summer, anyway? I never got the chance to ask you on the train. You were missed, you know. It wasn’t quite the same without you. Tuney was nearly impossible to deal with, and apparently she’s got a boyfriend now.” Lily smiled up at Severus, waiting as he remained silent for a while.

“I worked,” he said.

“You went to stay with Hermione to work?” Lily finally looked at Hermione. “When you ask someone to your house for the summer, you’re supposed to have fun, not put them to work.”

“What makes you think it was Hermione’s idea?” Severus asked. “Mr. McGonagall offered we work for the vegetation portion of our potions kit and if we did more than that, we were paid. It would be foolish to turn down such an offer, especially when it comes with free knowledge.”

“And a Bowtruckle,” Hermione interjected.

“I didn’t keep Bowie, and we both know it.”

“I thought you said you would name him Ziggy?”

“I said I would consider it if I got one. I did not.”

“All right, fine. Wait, free knowledge?” At this, she sat on her knees, hands on her hips. “Exactly how did you acquire this?”

“You were the one who chose to work on the flower beds and the cooking herbs. I, however, went with Bob into the more potions-oriented areas. I asked, he answered. You live with him; you could have done the same thing yourself.”

“Well forgive me if I didn’t want to ply him with questions about his job when he comes home to relax,” she said with put-on petulance, and Severus let out a snort.

“Anything you could share with us, Sev?” Lily asked.

“I could,” he replied with a single nod. “But it was more or less ingredients or uses beyond what we’ll have here.”

“Ah,” Lily said, a knowing glint in her eye. She smiled smugly, glancing briefly at Hermione before she got up off the grass. “I wish I could stick around, but McGonagall wanted to see Remus and me for something, so I’ll catch up with you in Potions.” She looked down at Severus as she brushed off her robes. “Would you like to be my lab partner today?”

He tilted his head to meet her gaze. “No,” he said bluntly. He didn’t elaborate.

Lily turned her hurt gaze to Hermione, mouthing the word ‘please.’

Hermione understood what Lily wanted instantly.

“I’ll partner with you, if you like,” she said while holding back the grin that tugged at her lips as Lily’s eyes widened. “Though that means that Marlene or Alice would have to work on their own, since I doubt that Severus would be able to put up with them. Or worse, one of Marauders. Can you imagine one of them working with him?”

“Remus isn’t all that bad,” Lily said hopefully.

“It won’t happen,” Severus said firmly, returning his attention to the book in his lap. “We haven’t been lab partners since first year. I can only imagine that you want to pair up because Slughorn will notice that you aren’t quite the natural you seemed to be the first two years.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “That was cruel, Sev,” she managed to say after a time.

He glanced up at her. “If you say so.”

Lily’s face pinched as her hands turned to fists. In a flash, she stormed off, red hair trailing behind her.

When she was out of hearing range, Hermione said, “It was quite mean.”

Severus sighed, his shoulders dropping and his body relaxing as if he’d been incredibly tense. “I am … uncomfortable with how she’s acted since the end of last term. The way she behaved in the park, the way she clutched my arm in Diagon Alley, her insistence on cramming into the space next to me on the train. She’d been distancing herself from me for the past two, three years, and suddenly it’s as though we are first years again.”

“But …” Hermione chewed her lip, glancing to where Lily had taken off, debating if she should say anything. She glanced at Severus, seeing him watching her intently, and she blushed. “Never mind.”

She wanted to offer an out, to say that he could go with Lily, that she wanted a new partner. She wanted to offer him a chance to say no again, to affirm that he wanted to be with her . But Hermione couldn’t, she simply couldn’t. The fear of his rejection was simply too great to overcome when her feelings for him were still so new and raw. And he would reject her, she was sure. He’d liked Lily, was infatuated with someone so much prettier, warmer, friendlier than her.

Her only advantage was her brain, and she knew it.

Chapter Text

—————A—————

September 2, 1993

Aurora stomped up to the hospital wing after supper without a single care about who saw or what they had to say about it. She could feel her curls sparking and growing tighter, nearly a copy of Hermione Granger’s curls when she wasn’t angry. Aurora’s eyes were narrowed, the deep brown growing black like her father’s. And the scowl on her face was such a perfect combination of both her parents that even seventh years stepped aside as she passed.

Without hesitating, she entered the infirmary and marched straight to Draco’s bed. The prat was awake, a book opened on his lap, one leg propped up to help keep it open. He was angled in such a way that he couldn’t see who was coming in.

“It’s about time dinner got here,” he started to say with that Malfoy sneer. “You wait until I tell my father—”

He never finished the sentence. The very instant he turned his head, Aurora threw a punch hard enough that Draco went tumbling over the other side of the bed.

“You stupid, arrogant prat,” she spat, and Draco scrambled as best he could with one arm, pain mingling with surprise as he did his best to face her. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Has your head been jammed so far up your arse that you really have no common sense, no human decency left?”

“What are you talking about, Rory?” Draco asked, finally managing to get to his feet. It had been the first time he’d referred to her in a familiar manner since Colin Creevey’s Petrification the year before. It had been Snape or Aurora until that moment.

“I’m talking about your belief that you’re superior to everyone and everything because you’re a bloody Malfoy. I know you know how to bow to a Hippogriff because of that time we ran into one in the wild. Remember? With Mum? And I know she warned you very, very thoroughly the kind of damage it can do if you don’t show it the respect it deserves. But no. No, the mighty Draco Malfoy had to risk his neck, which Buckbeak easily could have ripped open, all to show up Harry Potter. Or maybe show off for him, because frankly I’m beginning to wonder.” Draco paled at the implication, and while it registered, Aurora continued, “And bragging to your imbecilic housemates about how you could get Hagrid fired—”

“What do you care about the bloody oaf?” Draco demanded.

“I care because Hagrid has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember! I spent the first five years of my life living at Hogwarts. I’ve walked these grounds more than any seventh year, and Hagrid is practically an uncle to me.”

“He’s a half-blood,” Malfoy sneered, spitting the words.

“So am I!” Aurora shouted.

It felt like all air left her lungs and her heart stopped. She hadn’t meant to say it. She’d known her blood status since she was four years old and had heard the dreaded ‘M’ word tossed around by Uncle Lu when he hadn’t realized she could hear.

Her father had noticed, though. He’d spotted her in the shadows of the hallway heading to the washrooms from the playroom down the hall. He acted like nothing had happened, not giving even the slightest hint she was there. He had explained afterwards what that word meant. “It’s a terrible word for people like your mother,” he said. “Muggle-borns. The people that use that word are typically of only wizarding blood and believe that they are better for it. Daddy has to pretend to like them and agree with them. But I do not.”

“Why do you have to pretend to hate mummy?” she asked, confused and a little hurt.

“I don’t,” he said, tapping her nose. “Mummy pretends she has only magical parents, so no one tries to hurt her. But we must not tell. Remember what I told you about secrets?” Aurora nodded. “I am a half-blood.”

“Because of Nana?”

“Yes. My father was a Muggle. Mummy’s mother and father were both Muggle. She is Muggle-born, and you are a half-blood, because you have magical and Muggle blood,” he explained. “But we must not tell.”

She never had to say she was a pureblood, it had always been assumed. It hadn’t really even occurred to her that her blood status mattered until last year, and she intended to keep it a secret.

But now she’d blurted it out.

Draco was utterly confused, stuttering and stammering as Aurora shook with fear and adrenaline.

“How?” Draco finally asked. “I know Uncle is a half-blood, but he renounced his filthy Muggle heritage. And besides, to be a half-blood, Aunt H. would have to be ….” The pieces finally fell into place. “She’s a Mudblood.”

“Is she?” Aurora asked with a shaky voice. “Is she really? Because until two minutes ago she was your pure-blood aunt with a great family heritage. A witch you looked up to and admired.” Draco frowned, looking away as if trying to reconcile the idea as much as he was trying to separate his aunt into two people. “I’ll leave you that to think about,” she said in a clipped tone as she tried to hold herself together.

The Aurora Snape that made her way from the hospital wing to her father’s rooms was a much less terrorizing one. No one paid her any mind as she went down to the dungeons.

She opened the door to her father’s office, finding it empty but the door to his rooms appeared and opened a crack. Laughter was coming through it, but the sound didn’t register as she approached the door and pushed it open. It led immediately into the sitting room.

Her brain told her she should be surprised to see Professor Lupin sitting in the armchair, an empty plate near him on the coffee table and a goblet of wine in his hand. She also realized she should be surprised her mother was on the couch next to her father; she never visited this early in the year. She vaguely registered Leo reading in the corner.

“Rory?” her father’s deep voice cut her reverie, and seeing his gentle, questioning gaze on her and the concern on her mother’s face, made Aurora’s own visage crumple.

“I made a terrible mistake,” she choked out as the tears sprang free.

“What happened, poppet?” her mother asked gently, and she saw the blurred image of her mother approaching through her tears. “Anything that happened, you can say in front of Remus,” her mother said gently as she wrapped her arms around Aurora’s shaking form. “He’s a friend, and he knows I’m here at Hogwarts as a student. I’m sure it’s fine for him to hear as well.”

So Aurora told them, as much as she could between sobs. And while it wasn’t a long story by any means, it felt as if it were.

“I’m s-so s-s-sorry,” she hiccupped. “I d-d-didn’t mean … it’s just …”

“Calm, Aurora,” her father said, sternly but not unkindly. Aurora tried to take a deep breath that turned into a shudder. “Hermione, I think it’s time that we ….”

“Why don’t you tell her, love,” her mother suggested. “She should hear it from you without us.”

“I can leave if this is a family matter,” Professor Lupin offered.

“Stay. You and H. have a lot to catch up on, I’m sure. And I’m afraid Leonidas is still too young to hear this.”

“I’m eight!” Leo declared indignantly.

“And your sister is older, and this is the first time she’s hearing it,” her mother chided with a hint of amusement, while Aurora felt her father put his arm around her shoulders and guide her to the lab.

He shut the door behind them and guided her to a stool. Her father sat beside her, facing her. The first thing he did was produce a handkerchief, handing it over so she could dry her eyes.

With a resigned sigh, he placed his left arm on the workbench with the palm of his hand facing up. He opened first his frock coat and then the cuff of the shirt beneath. She knew what was coming as he rolled up his sleeve, but she still flinched at the sight of the skull on his skin.

“You are a very smart, brave girl,” he said. “But much like your mother, your emotions get the best of you. It’s human. It’s normal. You, I believe, do have some of my innate ability to hold things in, but even I erupt once in a while, so do not blame yourself for what happened.

“But now it is more important than ever that you have a full understanding of why your mother hid her Muggle heritage when she fell through time, why it’s still necessary for you to pretend you are pure-blood, and why you should really attempt to sway Draco’s opinions while he is away from his father’s influence, and before Hermione Granger disappears from Hogwarts.”

“What’s that got to do with your tattoo?” Aurora asked in a small, quiet voice.

“It’s the Dark Mark, Rory. It is the symbol of the Dark Lord, and a sign that I am one of his most valued Death Eaters and a member of his inner circle. It is the mark of a man who believed in blood supremacy and Dark Magic.”

“So why do you have it?”

“Because I was—am—a spy. Because when I was only a few years older than you, I caught the attention of all the wrong people, and someone sought to use that for the greater good. I was sorely tempted to join them, just so I could have a place to belong, very early on in my fourth year. It’s not all good, but it’s not all bad. Are you ready?”

Aurora nodded.

—————H—————

September 9, 1975

“Snape, Granger, stay back a moment,” Moody barked as the class began to pack up after class.

Lily frowned briefly before her lips curled into a smile. “Picnic by the tree,” she said, touching Severus’ arm briefly before giving Hermione a wave and following the rest of the class out the door. Moody watched them until the last one hurried out of the room, then a flick of his wrist slammed the door shut.

“You read the book?” he asked in his typically snappy tone. Hermione and Severus both nodded. “Good. We meet after dinner, seventh floor corridor.”

“Professor?” Hermione asked, face crinkling in confusion.

“And make sure no one sees ya,” he said briskly, then gestured toward the door. “Go.”

They left.

“Why does the seventh-floor corridor ring a bell?” Hermione asked, speaking to herself and asking Severus.

“I’m sure at some point you read something about it. Now that mental index of yours is running through the library you’ve no doubt absorbed and retained, trying to find the answer.” Severus glanced at her, a slight twitch of his lips.

Hermione grinned back at him, about to say something equally backhanded when she found herself suddenly falling to the ground. Her bag, open without her realizing, launched her books across the stone floor, her ink pots and quills following suit.

She felt magic surround her just a moment before she felt Severus’ hand on her shoulder. Turning her head and shifting slightly, she noticed he had his wand out, pointed in such a way that it made her think of holding an arm out in defense. She was about to ask what he was doing when a flash of light dispersed in front of Severus as if ….

“A shield,” she whispered, shifting around and finding her legs stuck together. Pulling out her wand, she whispered the counter-curse before getting on her knees beside Severus. “Where are they?”

He indicated in the direction they came from just before another blast of light flashed at them.

“Snivellus is being a bloody coward,” Peter laughed. “Hiding behind a shield.

“Come on, Snivellus. We know you’re just itching to fight back,” Sirius taunted.

“Oh no, he’s gone soft.” James jumped in on the taunting, all of them still unseen. “New robes, actually clean hair? I think he’s trying to assimilate into human society.”

Hermione shot her wand out, sending the first hex that came to mind in the direction of James’ voice. It hit the wall, making a loud cracking sound on impact.

“What’s going on here?” Remus’ voice came from behind them, and Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see his confusion as he looked at where she and Severus were crouched.

“Ah! Moony!” Sirius cheered. “Just in time to join the fun.”

Remus’ confusion vanished, replaced by shame as he came forward and stood in front of Severus.

“What sort of fun were you thinking of, Padfoot?” he asked, crossing his arms and looking around the corridor.

Seeing an opening to leave, Hermione reached for Severus’ hand and tugged it lightly. Eyes still trained on where Remus and the other Marauders were, he nodded once. They got to their feet slowly, walking backward a couple steps before turning.

“Remus, they’re getting away!” Peter whined.

“Good,” Remus said, and then added just before they turned the corner, “Wait for me outside class. I’ll explain to Professor Babbling why you were held up.”

Once out of sight from the Marauders, Hermione hissed in pain. Adrenaline and being on the ground had prevented her from realizing how hard she hit her left knee when the Leg-Lock Jinx hit. Now, trying to walk on it, she limped painfully.

Without a word, Severus shifted his messenger bag to reach in and grab something. Hermione took it.

“I don’t think I need your extra-strength pain reliever,” she replied.

“You’re tugging my hand violently with every step. Weak as your knee may actually be, you won’t limp quite so badly if there is no pain,” he said, gesturing to the bottle. “Take it.”

Reluctantly letting go of his hand, Hermione paused and leaned against the wall so she could uncover the potion and swallow it. Like so many potions, it tasted vile.

“Tweaked the formula but couldn’t make it more palatable?” she asked through a grimace.

“Adding anything to make it taste better would compromise its effectiveness,” he replied, taking back the bottle. “Bob never complained.”

Hermione snorted, about to retort, when Remus rounded the corner. He took in the scene, glancing between Severus and Hermione, then to the bottle in Severus’ hand, and the way Hermione was holding her leg.

Hands balling into fists, Remus said, “I should have done more than take away points.”

Severus snorted. “Yes, well, I don’t think there’s that much power behind a prefect badge,” he sneered, offering his arm to Hermione so they could get to Runes. She took it, ignoring the happy lurch her heart made when she slipped her hand into his elbow.

“I should talk to them,” Remus said, falling into step with them. “Tell them they need to stop. And not just with you, with everyone. But especially you.”

“That may have been helpful five years ago,” Severus said. “But you were too busy silently following them and getting in a pot shot or two.”

Remus didn’t have time to answer, since they arrived at the classroom door at that moment.

As Severus escorted Hermione to their seats, Remus made good on his word to explain to Professor Babbling what had happened. What was more, his annoyance hadn’t faded from his tone as he spoke, causing a murmur of interest through the fifth-year class. It wasn’t just Gryffindors and Slytherins, but Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well. And with the Marauders having picked on people from all the houses, one breaking rank earned some attention.

—————H—————

While James, Peter, and Sirius were still busy interrogating Remus over his perceived faux pas earlier in the day, Hermione and Severus slipped out of the Great Hall and made their way to the seventh-floor corridor.

“How’s your knee?” he asked her as they climbed the stairs at a pace that was probably slower than he’d like.

“Well, I’m still not feeling any pain,” she replied with a wry smile. “But I can feel it’s weakened and bruised.”

“And you haven’t gone to Pomfrey because …?”

“Exactly when would I have? Our day is not exactly leisurely. Runes, Potions, and Transfiguration after lunch. Though I suppose I could have gone up to the hospital wing during that break, it’s not like Lily would have missed me.”

“No, I don’t believe she would have,” Severus replied, and Hermione could not tell from his tone if he was pleased or annoyed by that.

They continued up the stairs, and the silence continued comfortably until they reached the seventh floor. They paused and looked around before advancing a bit further.

“I don’t see Moody anywhere,” Severus noted. “And I doubt he wants us to do these ‘lessons’ in the open, as it were.”

“I swear I know something about the seventh-floor corridor!” Hermione said, annoyed at her own brain for not pulling forth the information she wanted when it mattered.

“As we established earlier,” Severus said, looking up and examining the tapestries. He did so with a scrutinizing gaze. Hermione turned away as best she could, pounding her forehead with her fist in a pathetic attempt to bring the knowledge to the forefront. She paced, slowly, and only for a short time as her knee felt like buckling.

She looked up and saw a door that hadn’t been there before.

“Severus,” she called, gazing at the door as a smile pulled on her lips and the answer came tumbling to the front of her mind. “How could I have been so stupid?” she asked with a shake of her head as he came up beside her. “ Hogwarts: A History. I’ve read it more times than I can count, and I still forgot about the Come and Go Room.”

“The what?”

“The Come and Go Room,” she repeated. “Also known as the Room of Requirement. The room is supposed to pop up where it’s needed most and provide the person or persons in need exactly what they require. A bedroom if exhausted, a medical room if injured.”

“A loo when one has too much pumpkin juice at breakfast,” Severus added in a slightly mocking tone. “Can you explain anything without sounding like an utter swot?”

“Insufferable know-it-all, remember?”

His smirk made her chest tighten. “You make it impossible to forget.” He turned his attention back to the door. “So, do you think Moody is behind this door, or do you think the room has simply decided we need something?”

“I say we find out,” Hermione said, reaching for the door.

“Yes, let’s just walk right into a room that popped out of nowhere, and could reappear somewhere else entirely, if it reappears at all,” Severus grumbled.

“Don’t want to be stuck in a room alone with me, Severus?” Hermione said without thinking. Her hand was on the doorknob, twisting and pushing the door open before her words sank in, and she blushed horribly as she realized how it could be misinterpreted. She was incredibly thankful, then, that Severus did not reply when they saw Professor Moody, looking quite annoyed.

“Took you long enough,” he said gruffly.

“It was a bit hard to locate a room that apparently pops up where it wants to,” Severus replied, stilted but not completely disrespectful.

“That’s a myth,” he said, and Hermione’s face crumpled. “The Room of Requirement is always right here, on the seventh floor. While we’re here, no one can find us unless we want them to. We’re undetectable.” He then pointed to two chairs that appeared, each turned to face Moody. “Sit.” He gestured, and both did so. “You read the book, I don’t need to tell you the particulars of the ‘what’ or ‘why.’“

“Actually, Professor Moody, I would quite like to know the why,” Severus interrupted smoothly. “Hermione has reason. But why teach me such a skill?”

“You’re a natural. Would be stupid to waste. And you’re friends with her, she trusts you. You can help her if she gets stuck,” Moody replied casually. “Now, both of ya, clear your mind. Picture a wall. Don’t let me break it.”

Without warning, Moody flicked his wrist and his stare bore down on Hermione.

She felt that niggle in her mind she had on the first day of his class, but much, much stronger. It was verging on painful as he ate away at the feeble attempt of a wall she put up. Like a dam breaking, all her thoughts and emotions of the last twenty-four hours were there for Moody to peruse.

“Knew those bastards were lying,” he grumbled before he shot his gaze at Severus.

Hermione blinked, the pain easing slowly as she watched Severus’ and Moody’s mental battle. There was a slight crease between Severus’ eyes and knuckles were clenched tightly. His cheeks began to pink before he grunted and turned away.

Moody chuckled. “You basically got it down, but that wall needs to be impenetrable.”

“Why do I need one to begin with?” Severus asked through gritted teeth.

“I was just in your head, boy,” Moody replied. “You know as well as I do why it would be wise to keep what you know locked up.”

Hermione frowned, glancing between Severus, who refused to look at her, and Moody, who looked altogether too pleased with himself.

“Not gonna go after your mind again tonight,” he said. “Best thing you can do is meditate. Don’t scoff, boy. Not enough wizards sit in silence and focus on what’s inside. You focus on your mind, you focus on building something up, it happens.” He hoisted himself up. There were cracks and pops as his body shifted. “Stay here, focus, no chit chat.” He limped stiffly to the door.

“You’re leaving?” Hermione asked, glancing at Severus to see a matching furrowed brow.

“Dumbledore’ll wonder where I’ve been.” And without another word, Moody ambled out the door.

They were both silent for a long while before Severus said, “He doesn’t want Dumbledore to know.”

“Hm.”

“Why?” Severus looked at her and locked eyes with her as Moody had, though there was no niggling in her mind. “Why hide this from the headmaster? Especially if it involves you. He didn’t deny that he felt you had a reason to want to hide whatever’s in your mind, but why not involve the headmaster? Why bring us to an unplottable room when he was just going to leave us?”

Hermione’s mouth opened as her throat threatened to close. No, she couldn’t mention the Marauder’s Map. She didn’t even want to try the truth. So, in the end, her shoulders sagged as she shook her head. Severus’ eyes narrowed as he turned his head away with a thoughtful tilt.

“We’re supposed to be meditating,” she said, shifting in her chair.

Severus scoffed. “Do you see him here to ensure we do?”

“Severus,” she warned.

But he didn’t hear her. Getting to his feet, he walked over to a desk that had appeared, a stack of newspapers on one corner, and a small collection of books on another. “Meditate all you like,” he said as he shifted through the papers.

“Severus, what are you—?”

“The room gives the occupants what they need, so it should have provided me answers when this desk popped up.”

Hermione swallowed the panic that threatened to overtake her at the thought of what kind of answers the room would provide. She sat, closed her eyes, and willed her heart rate to slow before she focused on trying to build some mental defenses.

She had no idea how long she’d been in her own mind before she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she took in the frustrated and thoughtful Severus before her. His tie was askew, his hair had a stronger sheen and was thoroughly disheveled.

“We should go. It’s nearly nine.”

“That long?” she asked as she took the hand he offered and let him pull her to her feet. “Did you find any answers?”

“Not particularly,” he replied, dropping her hand.

“Well?” she demanded as he offered nothing further.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I believe I will keep what I learned to myself for a little bit.”

With a huff, Hermione stormed over to the desk, looking at the papers spread out there. A quick glance at the dates she could see revealed that none were from the future. There were quite a few from the past, around the twenties and thirties, and even a few from the fifties, but most were recent.

“Are you willing to risk losing house points and getting detention for a few articles in the Daily Prophet ?” Severus asked in a teasing voice, and Hermione’s frustration mounted.

She caught a glimpse of a photo of a much younger Dumbledore and a man on the cover of a paper, his name jumping out at her from the partly covered caption beneath. She wanted to peruse the pages, to read what Severus had, but the idea of detention with Filch for being out past curfew deterred her.

With an irritated growl, she turned and stomped out the door, knowing Severus was close behind her. It didn’t matter that her left leg dipped with every step as her knee gave out, she still made her way through the door and down the corridor while radiating frustration.

Severus kept pace with her, saying nothing and not trying to steady her. But he was there, hovering, and Hermione did appreciate it even if she was a bit annoyed at him. How hard would it have been to just tell her? To say what he read instead of keeping it to himself? Was it that important? And why hadn’t she just taken the bloody newspapers with her?

That made her stop, huffing in frustration at herself this time as she realized he distracted her with the possibility of detention.

He came to a stop on the stop in front of her and she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He had that calculating look in his eyes, one that brought a fleeting image of Professor Snape to the forefront of her mind before it faded.

“What I learned …” he began to say, trailing off to look around. His eyes narrowed on something down the stairs and to the left, and he took out his wand. “ Muffliato ,” he whispered. A slight buzzing surrounded them before he spoke again. “What I learned is a reason why Moody doesn’t want Dumbledore to know he’s training us, though I think it’s me in particular that could pose the problem. Given my house and the rate with which Slytherins find questionable company post-Hogwarts, I think I understand why Moody would rather I not know more than I should. I’m not sure I have the answer to why Moody wants to train me. What I do know is that the headmaster is casting stones in a glass house when he ought to be coddling the Gryffindors less and supporting the Slytherins more.”

“You’re not making very much sense,” she admitted, and he quirked his lips.

“I wasn’t trying to.” When she smacked his arm, he gave a genuine grin. “I do know this: whatever reason Moody has to think that you need to learn Occlumency, I think he’s right.”

“And what idea is that?”

“I never give an answer I am not a hundred percent sure of,” he retorted.

“And you call me insufferable,” she grumbled.

Severus chuckled, and with a flick of his wand, the buzzing faded. He moved slowly down ahead of her and then led her back to Gryffindor Tower, where he stopped with her outside the portrait. Hermione ignored the painted woman as she gaped at them like a fish.

“I’ll see you in Potions tomorrow morning,” he said with a bow of his head before leaving.

Hermione watched him, unable to pull her eyes away from him until he rounded the corner. She sighed involuntarily.

“He’s not what one would call a looker,” the Fat Lady remarked. “Not to mention that I’m fairly certain he has a thing for the pretty redhead.”

“Me too,” Hermione sighed, looking at the woman who regarded her with sympathy. “Incipite Matura.”

September 19, 1975

It’s just a day, just a normal day. There’s nothing special about it. It’s Friday, it’s just past the middle of September. It’s a normal day. You’re just a bit older now, is all.

Hermione had been looping the monologue in her head from the moment she woke up. The normalcy of the last couple of weeks had nearly made her forget. While the first day of classes had brought a surge of sadness, the repetition of classes, meals, and time spent with Severus and Lily had pushed it away. Even the day before had been normal and she’d nearly forgotten what the morning would bring.

But once her eyes opened to the sunshine coming through the window, to the sounds of Lily, Marlene, and Alice getting ready for the day, she had to remind herself to not feel too sad. She pulled herself out of bed, gathered her things and headed for the girls’ bathroom. She showered mechanically, dressed with her average amount of care, and gathered her things to head to the Great Hall. The girls caught up and surrounded her, Lily holding firm that they include her in their entourage even if she didn’t speak and Marlene still didn’t like her all that much.

They sat down for breakfast and Hermione chose her toast and fruit with a heavy sigh that went relatively unnoticed. Lily glanced over and frowned, but was distracted by the Marauders coming in.

Hermione, then, did what she’d always done at meals when the obnoxious trio and their friendly, shy werewolf friend attempted to draw attention to themselves: she pulled out a book and read.

She’d wanted to read a classic as she usually did to treat herself, but keeping up appearances as a pureblood, she wasn’t sure if Austen would be acceptable material. So she read her Herbology text.

Owls swept over the hall, and Hermione heard the squeals and giggles from her female housemates as the latest Witch Weekly was delivered, the slightly elevated chatter of fellow students receiving letters, and she turned the page.

“Hermione,” Remus said, and she looked up to see what he wanted. He pointed to a familiar little owl perched just in front of her plate next to a tawny owl resting on a small rectangular parcel.

Her stomach twisted as she tried to tame her excitement, the urge to smile barely suppressed. No one knew last year, and she had said nothing. So why should she expect anything this year?

She took the envelope from the McGonagalls’ little owl before giving it a piece of her toast, and then gave another piece to the tawny owl that hooted happily before taking off. Just as he took off, another envelope landed on top of the small parcel, but no owl landed for a treat.

“What’s the special occasion?” Lily asked.

“Not special at all,” Hermione replied, opening the letter from the McGonagalls. A small, slim box fell on the table, narrowly avoiding her fruit.

Hermione,

My darling, sweet girl. I wish I had all the excuses in the world for not having found out your birthday in time last year. It wasn’t until you returned to us for the summer that it occurred to Bob and me that the occasion would have to be coming soon or we had missed it. Minerva had to look into the school records, and I can’t tell you the shame we all felt for letting it slip through the cracks, especially given how soon after losing your family it was.

As you were raised in the States, I am aware that sixteen is a pivotal age there, as seventeen is here. Not knowing which one would have been celebrated as such by your parents, we didn’t want to fail you in the possibility that this would be it for you. Tradition, I was told, is a ring. We decided to do something a bit different.

Happy birthday, Hermione. We have loved having you in our lives and look forward to all the days to come together.

Warmest wishes,

Delia

P.S. Bob felt horribly excluded and wanted to say he adores you too.

Hermione was trying very hard not to let a tear slip down her cheek as she finished the letter and set it aside. With a deep breath, she picked up the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of teardrop earrings, silver on the stud and gold on the rest.

“Oh, those are lovely,” Marlene said, leaning over the table for a better look. “Not overly expensive or anything, I would say. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Lily looked quite interested in the answer and Hermione blushed and vehemently shook her head. “No, it’s my, er, birthday,” she barely spoke the last word out loud.

“Oh! That’s … wow, that would make you the oldest in our house for our year.”

“I think it makes her the oldest in our year, period,” Alice added in a quiet voice.

“Who are the earrings from?” Lily asked suspiciously.

“Delia and Bob,” Hermione replied automatically. At their confused stares, she added, “My foster parents.”

Lily sagged with relief while Hermione moved on to the letter on the package.

Hermione,

Forgive me for not finding the information earlier, not only as your aunt, but as your Head of House. September is always a busy time with so many things going on as everyone gets settled. It wasn’t until Delia asked if I knew when it was that I discovered that I missed it entirely. I knew, for it stuck out in my mind that you would have just missed being in the year ahead.

I cannot make up for my mistakes last year, but I would like to this year. Have tea with me this evening in my office, if you’d like. Bring Severus and Miss Evans with you, if you’d like to extend the invitation to them. You can simply let me know after Transfiguration today.

Have a happy birthday,

Professor M. McGonagall.

Hermione gave a watery chuckle as she finished the letter. She looked at the head table and caught her Head of House’s eye. She smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod, causing Professor McGonagall’s stern expression to falter for a moment as her lips twitched upwards.

Finally, Hermione reached for the package on the table.

Pulling off the paper revealed a beautifully bound, slightly worn copy of Jane Eyre. She ran her fingers lovingly over the deep blue leather where the title was embossed in silver, before opening the cover. A tiny slip of paper was tucked into the binding, barely big enough to hold the spiky scrawl of familiar writing.

The Bronte sisters were average witches, except when it came to words.

Thumbing through the book, she noticed it was littered with Severus’ scrawl. He pointed to passages he liked, made comments on parts he found funny or inane, and once in a while, there was an herb or flower pressed between the pages. A small stem of lilac, a sprig of mint, a vanilla bean, a few other small bits that were not poisonous or would not stain the pages but added a subtle and lovely fragrance that wrapped around her heart and held tight. In a strange way, it was very Severus . She put her nose to the pages and took a deep breath, her thumb lightly caressing the edge of the page where his writing rested.

“Someone gave you a used book for your birthday?” Sirius asked in mild distaste. Then he snorted. “I’m sure I know who. But then again, there are no grease marks on the pages.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” Hermione said without looking at him.

“Well, I suppose it’s appropriate for you,” Lily said thoughtfully. “For my birthday, he enchanted a paper lily to smell and feel like a real one. Well, a bouquet of them.”

“How cheap,” James remarked. “But I suppose anyone who wears raggedy old robes probably wouldn’t think that a girl as lovely as yourself deserves more than paper, right Evans?”

“Severus has new robes,” Remus remarked, sounding bored. “Not that it matters either way.” He then looked up as Hermione began to rise from the table. He gave a shy smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Remus,” she replied as she stuffed her letters and earrings in her bag. Once she had it shouldered, she hugged her book to her chest. “I’ll see you in Herbology.” And with that, she left the Great Hall.

Overwhelmed, she glanced around, wondering if maybe she should have seen if Severus was at the Slytherin table before she left. But if he wasn’t, she’d have no idea where to look for him. The library, maybe? Or his brewing classroom? He hadn’t been there yet this year, that she knew of anyway, and she couldn’t imagine he’d be there before classes.

She paced, a few short steps, then a couple long strides, and repeated this three times until she saw him leaving the Great Hall alone just as she turned to face the doorway. He looked morose, hands in his pockets and head down with his hair curtaining his face.

Without stopping to think why this was or what the repercussions would be for doing what she was about to do, she moved swiftly toward him. Colliding with him, she wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around his shoulders, holding him to her body fiercely.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her fingers caressing the stands of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you so much, I cannot tell you what it means to me.”

“It’s just a book,” Severus sneered, and she pulled back to look at him. His eyes were hard, cold, with a hint of pain.

“No, it’s—it’s more than I can possibly explain,” she said, unsure why he seemed so distant. “The earrings from Bob and Delia? A lovely gesture should I ever find the occasion to wear them. But the book … It’s a favorite of mine that I lost. And what’s more, you read it and have given me a … well, I’m sure it’s riddled with comments worthy of your disposition. And yes, you wrote in it, and that normally drives me spare, but I know why you did it and it’s wonderful, and …” She embraced him again. “Thank you.”

She hadn’t realized he hadn’t hugged her back until she felt his arms come around her, light at first and twitching, as though he would pull back any moment. But after a moment, Severus relaxed, his arms tightening a bit more, and he very quietly said, “Happy birthday.”

“I don’t even know how you found out,” she said as tears trickled down her cheek.

“I asked Delia one morning. I suspect she hadn’t known for long herself, given the way she blushed,” he replied, and Hermione chuckled against his shoulder.

She didn’t want to pull away, reveling in the feeling of being in his arms for the first, and possibly only time. This in itself, the reciprocation of physical affection, even if it didn’t mean quite as much to him as it did for her, was the best thing she could have received for her birthday. Because Hermione had known herself too well from too young an age and knew this for absolute certainty: she was in love with Severus.

It wasn’t an infatuation like with Ron. Ron had been boyishly charming and one of her first friends ever. Severus was caustic, moody, sometimes cruel in the present and his future. He was not what one would call handsome, though to Hermione, he’d become something beautiful. And he was loyal, more fiercely so than Ron ever was. He was smart, he was her equal, and he was the dearest person to her.

Hermione loved him and she was prepared for the consequences of it.

When he stepped back, Hermione smiled genuinely, if not a bit sadly. Severus smiled back, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a caress of his thumb, his eyes darting over her face.

“Aunt Min wants me to have tea with her this evening. She said to invite you. And Lily, which I imagine you would want,” she said, her fingers caressing the pages of the book still in her hand.

Severus shrugged. “It is entirely up to you. Personally, I think it might make things a bit stilted, with how we’re allowed to call her by her first name, and Lily doesn’t have the same privilege. But then again, she is our friend. I don’t think it would go over too well to exclude her.”

“Probably not,” Hermione agreed.

She wanted to throw her arms around him again, to kiss him soundly, but she didn’t. “See you after you’re done with Charms, and I’m done with Herbology?”

“I’ll meet you at the doors, with Lily.” Severus nodded. He looked, for the briefest second, like he wanted to say something else. But he turned and headed to Charms quickly, his head held high and shoulders squared.

—————H—————

“Why are we going to Professor McGonagall’s office when we can have a perfectly fine celebration in the common room?” Lily asked from the other side of Severus as the three of them made their way to the Transfiguration Mistress’s wing.

“Yes, I would be warmly welcomed in Gryffindor Tower, treated as if I were a lion myself,” Severus said sarcastically.

“Fine, then. We could have had a quiet one in the library or snuck up to that classroom near the hospital wing that you …” Lily trailed off, peeking around Severus just as Hermione glanced over.

She rolled her eyes at the knowing glint in Lily’s eye and the exaggerated way she clamped her mouth shut.

“Right,” Hermione said. “Because Severus would want us to be around his experiments.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “You know!”

“Of course she knows, Lily,” Severus sighed with boredom as they turned the corner. “She’s my friend as much as she is yours. Perhaps more.” Lily narrowed her eyes at this. “She may be your housemate, but you spend more time with Twiddle-dee and Twiddle-dumb than you do with her.”

“What did you just call Alice and Marlene?” Lily huffed.

Hermione snorted. “That’s actually quite brilliant, especially giving the name of the former.”

Severus looked pleased with himself as Lily huffed and shook her head.

“Right, so instead of finding a different unused classroom, ‘cause I’m sure there are actually quite a few in the castle, we’re going to a teacher’s office. Yes, this will be quite wild. Are we doing homework while we’re there? Turning turtles to teapots?”

Lily’s complaining did little to dampen Hermione’s mood. She wore her new earrings as a novelty for the day, and she hadn’t had a birthday tea since before she started Hogwarts. She still clutched her copy of Jane Eyre in her hand. She hadn’t parted with it since receiving it that morning, only setting it down during classes, and when she changed from her school uniform to a simple dress. She had read it during meals, always moving the clippings Severus had included to the previous page so she wouldn’t lose them. She’d even read it after dinner when the three of them had met up by the Black Lake. She’d read with her head resting against Severus’ leg, much like they had done just before the summer had begun. It would have been perfection if Lily hadn’t insisted on copying her position against his other leg.

“If it’s anything like Sunday dinner—” Severus started with a slight curl to his lips, which only grew when Hermione smacked him.

“I doubt very much that this will be Sunday dinner,” she replied as they came to the door. She knocked, and on McGonagall’s call to enter, she was the first to step inside.

“Surprise!” came Bob and Delia’s voice along with Professor McGonagall’s, and Hermione’s heart stopped for a moment. She noticed the glasses of firewhisky in Minerva’s and Bob’s hands.

“Not like Sunday dinner at all,” Severus mumbled quietly, and Hermione gave him a second smack before running over and embracing her foster parents.

“What on Earth …?” she asked after giving Bob a quick embrace before moving on to Delia.

“I may have invited them after you accepted my invitation,” Minerva said as she opened her arms and welcomed Hermione into her embrace. “I’d have invited the clan, but I’m sure even Albus has his limits.”

“It’s more than I was expecting,” Hermione replied as she stepped back.

“Probably best for your office that you didn’t,” Severus commented, moving to the small table off to the side and plucking up two goblets of what looked like wine but was probably only sparkling cider.

“Oi, watch your tongue, lad,” Minerva mock-scolded before smiling.

Severus handed Hermione a goblet, then glanced at Lily. He hesitated for a moment before handing it to their friend, turning and heading back to the table to grab a third one.

“Oh!” Hermione said, shaking herself. “I’m so sorry, I’m being terribly rude. Bob, Delia, this is Lily Evans.” She took Lily’s arm lightly and brought her closer to them.

“It’s a pleasure,” Delia greeted warmly, taking Lily’s free hand. “Hermione’s spoken well of you. Severus too, when he happens to catch part of the conversation.”

“You talk about me, Sev?” Lily asked with a grin, ribbing him when he came up beside her.

“When you are the topic of conversation,” he replied.

The door to the office opened, and all of them turned to look to see who was coming in.

“Min. Been wondering if maybe we could—” Professor Moody stopped abruptly, eyes scanning the room. “What’s this?” He then looked at Bob. “What sorta trouble you tryin’ to cause?”

“Can’t a man come and give birthday wishes to his …” Bob trailed off and his brow furrowed.

Before he could think of what to say, Moody looked at Hermione. “Your birthday, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Explains the teacher drinkin’ in front of students,” he said, gesturing to Minerva.

“Right this moment, Alastor, I’m her aunt, not her professor.”

“Still didn’t think to invite me, now, did ya?”

“Well yer here now. Scotch and firewhisky in their usual spots, help yerself,” she said, waving to a simple cabinet in the corner.

“Didn’t bring a gift,” Moody said as he hobbled to the cabinet.

“Wasn’t required,” Minerva countered. “We gave her ours this morning.”

It was then that a soft pop announced the table was now covered with food, most of Hermione’s favorites.

Moody glanced at the table, took a quick look at the mostly French cuisine, and snorted. “Thought you were English?”

“Oh, hush it, Al,” Bob teased. “More to life than bangers and mash.”

Minerva went about quickly Transfiguring her desk to a dining table and various objects for the table, among them comfortable dining chairs Delia and Bob had in their home. Hermione sat at one end, Severus to her right, and Lily to his. Bob and Delia chose her left, sandwiching Moody near the end with Minerva.

Dinner was, much to Hermione’s amusement, like Sunday dinners. Professor Moody took Malcom’s place in the banter between the McGonagall siblings. There was talk of various politics in the wizarding world, though more conversation about the Aurory than would normally happen.

“It’s the fact that the Ministry won’t bloody do anything about these attacks when we all know who’s causing them and why,” Moody grumbled.

“Always had a stick up their arse and you know it,” Minerva said with a dismissive wave. “The fact you still keep goin’ back for more….”

“You just couldn’t handle the heat, could ya?” Moody teased. “Or maybe it was Urquhart that kept you away all this time?”

“Oh, let’s not bring that up,” Bob grumbled between bites of his duck l’orange.

“What I don’t understand is what these ‘Death Eaters’ want,” Delia said, brow wrinkling. “And why they keep making shows of themselves.”

“They believe in blood supremacy,” Severus said, and Hermione watched nervously as Lily chewed her lip and Moody scowled at Severus. He, for his part, kept speaking calmly. “They think that we should not hide our nature, that the Muggles should fear us. They believe anyone not of a pure-blood background is weak and needs to be dominated. All rot, really, considering.”

“You don’t agree?” Moody asked darkly.

“You think I would because of my house?” Severus asked.

“You’re the only non-Gryffindor here and you seem to know a lot about them.”

“You’re the only pureblood and the same could be said for you, Professor,” Severus countered. “However, my knowledge, like yours, comes from my life circumstances. You’re an Auror, teacher though you may be now, and understand their motives because of that. I’m a Slytherin; I live with those who wish to join the Dark Lord. I, too, have acquired my knowledge through my position. It hardly means I agree with it any more than you do.”

Moody studied him severely for a moment before a smirk broke the sternness. “Well played, boy.”

“Shall we change the subject, then?” Delia asked after a moment of tension.

“I noticed you haven’t been indulging in spirits,” Severus said nonchalantly as he returned to his plate.

Hermione and Minerva both stared at Delia as she blushed nearly as red as her hair. “I hadn’t wanted to say anything, given the day.”

“You’re not!” Minerva said, more harshly than she’d probably intended.

A shy grin came over Delia, and Bob beamed as he gazed at her lovingly. “It’ll be three months in two days. I didn’t—it’s the longest we’ve—and if something happened…”

Hermione choked back a sob, hands flying to her mouth to try to contain the joy threatening to burst, but not a moment later she was out of her chair and running around the table. She embraced Delia at the same moment Minerva did, both holding her loosely as if they were afraid to hurt her.

“I hope you don’t think this means you won’t be welcome for the holidays or during breaks,” Delia said as she started to sniff.

“Of course,” Hermione said, turning then to Bob and holding him much tighter. “I’m so incredibly happy for you two.”

“Thank you, Hermione. It means the world.” He pulled back, smiling down at her before turning to Severus. “And you, boy,” he said, making Severus startle. “We will be having a discussion, you and I.”

Severus’ cheeks turned red, but he nodded once before turning back to his plate. Lily leaned in toward him and began whispering. Their conversation was quiet and much as Hermione wanted to know what was going on, she was too distracted by the conversation the McGonagalls were having. As the conversation turned toward work, she drifted back toward her friends.

“They’re her family, Lily,” she heard Severus hiss quietly.

“Not really,” Lily snapped back in equally hushed tones.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“But this is boring. And uncomfortable,” Lily protested.

“Then leave,” Severus countered.

“What? Are you honestly telling me you don’t want to run back to the dungeons? You really want to stay here?”

“I like Bob and Delia,” he replied. “And I would not be so rude as to walk away when he wants to talk to me. Regardless of the topic.”

“Well, yeah. But can’t you just, you know, pull him aside and ask what he wants so you can go? Do you really want to hang around here all night? We could go out by the lake and hang out by the tree or sneak up to the Astronomy Tower.”

“I don’t mind,” Hermione interjected. Both parties looked slightly guilty at being caught, though Lily quickly recovered and looked smug. “I can understand if you want to go, truly. Neither of you have to stay here on my account.”

“I’m enjoying myself,” Severus said, leaning back in his chair and running a long finger over the cover of the Jane Eyre on the table. He looked at it as he spoke. “And I’m sure Minerva still has dessert in mind. I’d hate to miss that.”

“You’re just full of cheek tonight, aren’t ya?” Minerva said to him as Lily flushed at Severus’ casual address of a teacher. “I’ll let it slide tonight, given this is a family affair.”

“Then what the blazes am I doin’ here?” Moody said as he stood up.

“You aren’t leaving before cake?” Minerva crossed her arms as she turned to her colleague.

Moody made a face of utter disgust before turning to Severus and Hermione. “You two, same place as before, tomorrow at eleven.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied simultaneously. He nodded, then hobbled out the door.

“In case you lot do head out, Severus, we should have that conversation now,” Bob said, beckoning Severus to join him on the other side of the room.

Severus rose, trying to maintain a calm exterior though his face betrayed how nervous he was.

Hermione had half-expected Lily to make excuses to leave, but she sat firm, watching Severus like a hawk. Hermione sat in the chair he abandoned, twisting her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she said, barely capturing Lily’s attention. “Severus didn’t think you would enjoy yourself but didn’t want to exclude you either.”

“Sev said that?” she asked with such hope that Hermione’s heart clenched.

“Yeah,” she said, unable to look at the joy in Lily’s eyes. Her gaze fell to her book, and she picked it up and held it to her chest like a shield.

“Cake’s here,” Minerva announced, and Hermione shifted out of Severus’ seat and back into her own.

She kept quiet for the most part, smiling and thanking them after they sang “Happy Birthday” to her, her ear picking up Severus’ deep melodious voice even as he tried to make it the quietest of the bunch. Conversation was still easy, though Lily took up the mantel while Hermione was quiet, speaking a great deal to the former Gryffindors about the goings on of their Quidditch team and anything else that may catch their interest.

When the night came to a close, the three students said their farewells and headed out after Hermione was given another round of hugs.

“So, what did, er … you know?” Lily asked, making circles with her hands as she raised an eyebrow at Severus.

He glanced at her, then Hermione. “I would rather not say right now.”

“Oh,” Lily said, glancing around him to Hermione for a moment. “How about I meet you at our spot?” she asked, stopping. “You can take Hermione to the tower and meet me in fifteen minutes.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, and Lily smiled before turning abruptly and jogging away. They paused and watched her until she disappeared around the corner.

“She’s going to land herself in detention,” he said as he continued toward the Great Hall.

“Why? Where’s your spot?” Hermione asked.

“It’s the tree where we all go when the weather’s nice. It is, however, nearly nine o’clock. Curfew, which she will break only by trying to get there.”

“Maybe she’ll realize and ask you to meet her there tomorrow,” Hermione suggested, tightening her grip on her book.

Severus snorted. “I still won’t tell her. I don’t plan to tell either of you, not yet anyway.” He shifted nervously. “It’s an opportunity that a student doesn’t happen upon often, and it would be utterly foolish of me not to take Bob up on his offer. I will not, however, say what it is until I’m sure it will happen.”

“You do love being cryptic, don’t you?” Hermione couldn’t help the turn of her lips, for even in a somewhat glum mood, she couldn’t help but enjoy banter with her best friend.

“It does have its moments of pleasure,” he said as they came to the top of the stairs leading to the dungeon. “I would walk you to your dormitory, but I don’t want an encounter with Filch.”

“It’s all right.” Hermione shrugged.

He scrutinized her. “You were happier earlier, what changed?”

“Nothing,” she replied quickly.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he retorted.

“It was just something Lily said, is all. She didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, it was actually completely innocent. It simply reminded me of something.”

Severus nodded grimly. He then reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He turned, and the loss of him made Hermione panic.

“Severus!” He stopped and turned around. Chewing her lip, she took the three steps needed to close as much distance as they could. “Would it be … I mean, would I be able to … a hug. Can I hug you again?”

He swallowed, and she hadn’t really noticed that his Adam’s apple was so prominent until she watched the movement of it. He twitched, and then shifted closer.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her nose as close to his skin as she thought she could get away with. The citrus from the duck lingered, nearly covering all those wonderful Severus scents that normally clung to him: parchment and ink, herbs from potions class. There was also his hair, which might get greasy as the day wore on but had a masculine scent that made her heart flutter and sigh with contentment.

His arms did not hesitate to come around her this time around and held her with exactly the same ferocity as she held him at the moment. There was a gentle, barely noticeable tug to her curls that she realized meant he was playing with them. It made her hyperaware and numb all at once.

They parted when they heard noise from the dungeons, the prefects were heading off to do their rounds. Neither said anything but waved to one another. Hermione looked over her shoulder every third step, even though he was gone after the first. She wasn’t sure if she was looking to see if he would risk Filch to meet Lily or just trying to catch a glimpse of him.

Lily hadn’t been long returning to the tower after Hermione and was quickly followed by the Marauders. She said nothing to Hermione other than goodnight and one last “happy birthday” before turning in for the night, offering a genuine smile before closing her curtains.

Hermione stretched out in bed, reading a bit of her book before deciding to skim through. She smiled at Severus’ more acerbic commentary, as well as his humored observations, until she came across one of her favorite parts.

“Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.”

The passage was underlined, drops of ink splattered and nearly blotted out the words on the edge of the page. Hermione skimmed the remainder of the chapter, sure to find a snide comment on how Jane should have known what Rochester was hiding. She was positive he would mock the strange romanticism. And yet, there was nothing through the whole proposal, nothing about Jane’s disbelief of Rochester’s strange reaction to her acceptance. In fact, the only note for the rest of the chapter had been at the end.

The brat gets her out of bed because a tree was struck by lightning? Teaches her not to lock the door.

Chapter Text

—————H—————

October 1, 1975

“Mr. Snape, Miss Evans, would you mind staying back?” Slughorn asked with a wide grin, hands behind his back as he gave a little bounce on his feet.

“You don’t think?” she heard Sirius mumble to James as they gathered their stuff.

She glanced over, seeing James contemplating the question.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. Without another word, James and Sirius gathered their things, gestured for Peter and Remus to follow, and headed out the door.

Hermione glanced at Severus and was taken aback by the resignation in his eyes.

“I’ll meet up with you later,” he said.

Hermione nodded, gathered her things, and left just as Lily bounced to join Slughorn and Severus at the front of the room.

Despite knowing full well that it was likely they wouldn’t come out soon, she kept glancing over her shoulder for them. She noticed Remus waiting alone at the end of the hall, and she found herself drifting toward him while still checking.

“Slug Club,” Remus said with a sad sort of smile. “It’s reasonable to assume. James and Sirius got invited a couple days ago, but you three hurried off to Transfiguration before he had a chance to say anything. Then again, they were moving rather slow. Apparently those two and Peter cast a singing and dancing jinx on a young Hufflepuff and were caught by Professor McGonagall.”

“What for?” Hermione demanded. “What did the Hufflepuff do?”

Remus shrugged, shamefaced. “Nothing,” he admitted. “They were bored and their, uh, usual target couldn’t be found.”

Hermione figured they’d been in the Room of Requirement, and that’s why they hadn’t found them. Though now she wondered why they hadn’t managed to sneak up on Severus while he brewed. Either way, since her birthday, he’d been spending more time in his abandoned classroom than anywhere else. As a result, Hermione found herself, often with Lily, tucked away with him. They Transfigured a table into a somewhat comfortable couch, and a chair into a low coffee table. It wasn’t often that Severus wasn’t at his makeshift station, going over notes and brewing, but when he wasn’t, the three of them could easily sit side by side without too much discomfort.

Of course, Hermione much preferred the times without Lily, even if she did feel bad about that. She liked being able to lay her head against Severus’ leg, the both of them on the sofa and discussing whatever tickled their fancy.

“You didn’t get invited with them? Or Peter?” she asked.

Remus shook his head glumly. “Slughorn only invites those he thinks will go places in life. Don’t, don’t look like that,” Remus begged when Hermione froze abruptly. She could feel how wide her eyes were, her lip trembling. “What he means, mostly, is fame or prestige. Affluence plays a big part, but so does skill.”

“And Lily Evans is more skilled than me?” The incredulous statement tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

“Not necessarily,” Remus said cautiously. “But, well, she’s Muggle-born.”

“So?” Hermione asked, trepidation pushing aside the anger that had started to brew.

“So, as ridiculous it may sound, she’s a bit of a novelty to Slughorn. He has the potential to brag about her later on.”

Hermione’s shoulders sagged. Was she really so worthless in this era? Was she really seen as having no potential? It was a petty thought, but Hermione briefly considered that if she revealed she was a Muggle-born, she may be as lauded and praised as Lily.

Oh, she couldn’t deny that Lily had talent in Charms and Transfiguration. They were probably up to par in those, as well as Potions. But Lily had no mind for difficult topics. Arithmancy confused her and Runes bored her. While Hermione could concede it was the same for her with Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, they certainly weren’t going to give Lily any life or academic advantage. And what did Lily even want to do? She never spoke of pursuing a particular mastery or career. They’d take their O.W.L.s this year, and yet the only thing she’d ever mentioned was maybe trying to write for Witch Weekly. Yet Slughorn saw her as having more potential.

“Hermione,” Remus said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re bloody brilliant. You’re easily the top of our house, if not the year. Not being invited by Slughorn does not take that away from you. And really, do you want to have to endure James and Sirius?”

“I suppose not,” she said with a wry grin. “And I suppose I can’t be too jealous of Lily, considering she’ll be their sole focus.”

“Exactly,” Remus replied, stepping back slightly. “And maybe, on the nights that they’re there, we could spend time together?”

“I’m not sure you could handle my study habits.”

“I think I could try,” Remus replied, bashful and … blushing?

Hermione’s heart sank as she considered what it could mean if Remus was asking to spend time with her. She didn’t want to hurt him or assume, but she had to wonder if he fancied her a bit.

“We get to go to Slug Club!” Lily’s exuberant voice preceded her, and Hermione turned to give her friend a smile and a hug in congratulations.

“I have no idea why you’re so thrilled about it,” Severus said with a roll of his eyes. “Uncomfortable dinners with people whom Slughorn collects and boasts about for his own benefit.”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder as Remus pointedly cleared his throat, and Hermione shook her head as he gave a satisfied grin.

“Still,” she said as she stepped around Lily to Severus, “it’ll be good for you.” She didn’t dare hug him, not now, not over something he wasn’t excited about. Instead, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I have better ways of getting where I need to be,” he replied, and she knew better than to ask. He swiped his thumb over her knuckles twice before he dropped her hand. “Lunch is halfway over and I cannot sit through History of Magic on an empty stomach. We should go.” And like that, the four of them headed to the Great Hall, mention of the Slug Club forgotten.

—————S—————

October 25, 1975

Severus headed for the library, trying his absolute hardest to ignore the slight churn in his stomach and his clammy hands. He had not made extra sure his hair was as clean as possible nor did he purposely wear an untucked white oxford with his casual trousers in an effort to look nice but not too formal. He carried his satchel with a grip far too tight for something holding only two textbooks, a bit of parchment, a quill, and some ink.

Occlumency had at least taught him how to control his heart rate, so instead of it pounding in his chest, it remained steady, if slightly elevated.

Hogsmeade weekend had been officially announced for next week, and he still had strong memories of this time last year. Memories of being nervous to ask Lily to accompany him, of his elation when she agreed, of his bitter and gut-wrenching disappointment when she didn’t show. He also remembered how he’d raged internally when Hermione stepped in to cover for her, for allowing all the blame, the anger to fall on her when she barely knew him. She hadn’t even realized how she’d helped him; he’d only endured a good-humored ribbing from his housemates. He should have joined her like a proper wizard instead of leaving her alone.

Hermione was not Lily, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to ask her to go with him. He wanted to secure her company, and perhaps gain some insight to her thoughts about their friendship.

He couldn’t stop reliving the hugs she’d given him on her birthday. Despite initially feeling jealous because of the expensive gift he thought Black or Lupin had given her, he’d shivered when her fingers grazed his neck. When she’d cleared that misunderstanding, when she’d hugged him tight once more to express just how much she appreciated his present… he’d tried using Occlumency for the first time to suppress his reaction. It only partially worked because he couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of her in his arms, the way her curls tickled his chin. And the last hug of the day, when he threw caution to the wind and twirled her curls around his fingers, he had found a level of bliss he hadn’t felt since he first started brewing in the abandoned classroom. He was not proud of how often he remembered their physical contact. The hugs she had given him were more affection than Lily had ever shown him. Lily had given him some awkward half-hugs in the last few years, clearly not meant to be reciprocated. She hadn’t held his hand since coming to Hogwarts.

Severus was sure that if Hermione said yes, she would not stand him up. She may even hold his hand as they walked through the village, perhaps to pull him along to Tomes and Scrolls or to Scrivenshaft’s.

He entered the library, nodded to Madam Pince, and headed for his and Hermione’s usual table.

Just as he was rounding the bookcase that blocked it from view, he saw Lupin heading toward Hermione. She was already deep in textbooks and parchment, her hair pulled back in a sensible knot that held one quill (or was the quill holding the hair?). She was clearly not aware of her surroundings, so it didn’t surprise him when Hermione startled terribly at Lupin’s quiet inquiry.

“Yes, Remus?” she said, looking up at the Marauder with a small smile, her chest heaving from the effort to control her breathing.

“I was wondering,” Lupin began, wringing his hands while squaring his shoulders, “I was wondering if I can escort you to Hogsmeade next weekend?”

Hermione physically recoiled with surprise; her eyes wide as she blinked owlishly at him. Severus wanted to flee, to hide and lick his wounds, because of course Hermione would catch the eye of not one, but two Marauders. And why wouldn’t it be the most intelligent of the bunch, the one who actually stood a chance? But it was her still-shocked visage that kept him from moving, wanting to see what she would answer.

“Sorry, Remus,” she began, “but I’m going with Severus.”

What?