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The last eight months had been hard. She had finished her schooling and then had headed to Australia to try to get her family back together. She hadn’t been able to find them at all. There was almost no trace of them. She could find when they landed, where they had stayed in a hotel for a month and then they had disappeared.
She had continued to look for them, of course she had, that was what she did. She thought perhaps they had travelled to New Zealand. It was close enough that they could perhaps have gone there for a week on holiday and then got lost in the system somehow.
She had picked up their trail in Kuala Lumpur. There she had heard from a very polite gentleman at a local hotel that Mr and Mrs Wilkins had been taken by a man in black.
Her nightmares for the next six weeks were horrendous. She went to the United States, following the hint of a trail.
She left the States for Europe, travelling to Paris, Lisbon, Rome, following the hints of where they had been seen and where they had said they were going. She had travelled for months through parts of Africa, meeting people from various tribes who had seen them and had their help. Each time she thought she would catch up with them, they seemed to have evaded her, only a month ago.
And now she was back in England and standing outside her old house. She had spent eight months looking for them all over the world and, in South Africa, desperate and alone, she had heard that the couple had returned to England with a man in black.
Who could still be torturing her parents? For she was sure that was what it was. Torturing them and then obliviating them over and over again so that they would lose their minds and never remember any of the places where they had been.
She had put a fail safe in her Obliviate so that she could restore their memories but now, hidden under layers and layers of Obliviates she knew that her parents were lost to her forever. She brushed the tears from her eyes. Just once, she would indulge herself. After today, she would never see her parents again. But now that she knew where they were, she could not just disappear. She dried her eyes, casting a freshening charm to revive sticky eyes and remove dried tear tracks. She wondered, strangely, what names they would be using now.
Caroline and David Granger had become Monica and Wendell Wilkins, who in turn had become Josie and Steve Aldridge. After that she had lost their trail for a while and then had picked it up again where they just went by Mr Dr Lyons and Mrs Dr Lyons. Now she wasn’t sure who she would be finding. She took a breath and walked towards the door of her old house and raised her hand to the knocker. She picked it up and, rather against her Gryffindor nature, she dropped it back, barely making a sound. It was enough though it seemed as the door opened and her Mother stood in front of her.
“Umm…hello…I…I know this must seem strange but…I grew up in this house and…I was wondering if…perhaps I could have a look around?” Hermione felt a fool. She should have rehearsed this. Should have planned what on Earth she would say. Should never have even knocked on the door. Her Mother gave her a soft smile.
“Of course dear, come on in.” The woman wearing her mother’s face stepped aside and Hermione took a soft breath, inhaling the scent of the familiar perfume. Tears welled in her eyes as she realised that everything in the house was almost the same. The only thing missing was…
“Who was at the door love?” Her Dad walked into the hallway, a glass in his hand as he dried it up from doing the dishes from lunch. He stopped still and looked at Hermione and she wished there were a flicker of recognition. Wished so hard she thought she had seen it.
“This young lady used to live here. She wanted to have a look around.” Her Mum’s voice held some scepticism and it burned through Hermione, it hurt so badly. She stood, frozen in indecision and then shook her head. This wasn’t going to work. It hurt too much. Her eyes welled with tears and she gave a choked sob, covering her face with her hands.
“Oh, oh my dear girl, come into the lounge. David, get her a glass of water would you love?” The use of her Dad’s name, his real name, only made Hermione sob harder, surrounded by the smell of her Mother’s perfume and soap and the strange smell of too many books that seemed to accompany both her parents. She felt herself lowered into the sofa and her Mother sat beside her, wrapping Hermione in her arms, and rocking her, shushing her as she sobbed.
“Caroline, enough now love. I can’t do this.” Hermione heard her Dad enter the room, placing the glass down on the table and sitting next to her. They were both using their real names? What was this hell?
“Oh David I can’t either. Hermione, Hermione love, shush now, it’s ok, oh sweetheart it’s ok.” Caroline Granger rocked her little girl and held her as tight as she dared. Her husband wrapped his arms around them both, sandwiching the little witch between them. With a gasp, Hermione pulled back.
“You know who I am?” She blinked at them both as they smiled at her.
“Oh precious girl, oh sweet girl of course we know who you are. You are our Hermione. Our daughter.” Her Mum gave her a huge smile and Hermione gasped, the tears streaming down her face again. Her Dad laughed and shook his head.
“You were never this emotional before, love. What happened to the little girl who told us we could leave now when she went to play group at two years old hmm?” Hermione laughed softly through the tears.
“But, I don’t understand. How do you know who I am?” Hermione needed answers. She needed to know how her spell had failed so miserably.
“That would be my doing Miss Granger.” She recognised that voice. She knew that voice. But it couldn’t be him. He was dead. She had seen him die. She turned to look at the man in the doorway.
“Professor Snape? What? How?” She felt herself flush, wondering how she could possibly be so ineloquent and then realising that she always had been in front of this man.
“How did I survive? Come now, a Potions Master who did not plan to die by a large venomous snake kept by a megalomaniac? Really?” He gave one of his patented smirks and she watched his eyebrow quirk just slightly. It was truly him.
“But how did you know about my parents? Why would you…?” She trailed off, trying to understand him.
“Because I have known you since you were twelve years old Hermione. I knew you would find a way to keep them safe. And you didn’t deserve to lose as much as you did in the War. I knew another Muggleborn who was very similar to you in a lot of ways…and vastly different in other ways.” He gave her a proper smile then and Hermione was shocked how much it transformed his face. He looked younger, freer, more handsome than she had ever noticed. She felt the blush burning on her cheeks and tilted her head away slightly.
“I’m nothing like Lily.” She needed to say it. She didn’t want him thinking she was anything like the girl he had known all those years ago.
“Now, love, I don’t know about that. Severus has told us all about Lily Evans. You sound very like her. All except the forgiveness part. You always forgive those boys of yours rather easily.” Hermione turned to her Dad and smiled sadly.
“Those boys…they are my only friends. I’d forgive them anything.” Hermione’s voice was small and she felt like a child, remembering how she had forgiven Ron for abandoning them, how she had forgiven them time and time again.
“Perhaps not your only friends Hermione. I’d say that someone who finds your parents, restores their memories, keeps them hidden away while hunting the remaining Death Eaters, and returns them to your childhood home just so that you can find them again is a friend at the very least wouldn’t you?” Caroline Granger smiled at her daughter and nodded at Severus.
Severus Snape? Her friend? Hermione smiled and turned to Severus, watching him raise an eyebrow slowly.
“Oh yes Mum, a friend…at least that.”