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Hermione Granger, Unspeakable and Keeper of the Time Room, was a lonely sort of woman. The sort of woman who drank alone on the weekends, the sort of woman who read alone at bedtime. The sort who spent her daily shower mourning people long dead. People who she never knew the way she’d have liked to have known.
When Hermione had graduated from university, a little older and a little smarter (just a little), the Ministry’s offer of a job as an Unspeakable just made sense for her. She was already a socially isolated person, a person with few friends and fewer outside responsibilities, and the Department of Mysteries seemed as good a place as any to lose herself.
But she was assigned to the Time Room, and that changed things. It made Hermione a little manic, a little desperate for things she knew she ought not desire.
The first uncomfortable quirk of this, thankfully no one would ever be aware of, was the portrait of Headmaster Snape she acquired from Hogwarts to hang in her office. The acerbic man she thought of often never showed up in his frame, but it felt comforting all the same to have it there. It kept Hermione on her toes, as if he were just there, making sure she didn’t totally screw up everything.
The second, and more bizarre one to be sure, was Severus Snape’s diaries, requisitioned from Magical Law Enforcement’s evidence locker. It was amazing what she could request with a golden Unspeakable badge, and she tried never to abuse it. There were some exceptions, however...
They became her reading of choice when waiting 48 hours for the new Time Chamber to reset itself after its very frequent catastrophic overloads, or when she spent weekends alone at home, needing some company. Hermione learned about the man she’d always been fascinated by, and she mourned his death daily. Perhaps it was a perverse enjoyment, to sift through the thoughts of a dead man, but some days Severus’ sardonic scribbling kept Hermione sane. She knew it wasn’t healthy, but she did it anyway.
Hermione had become a lonely woman at 36, the kinship she felt with the Severus Snape in his own penmanship was immense.
That wasn’t to say she never spoke or saw anyone, no, she had coworkers who she casually interacted with. She had Harry and Ron and their growing families to keep up with. It was inescapable, however, that she felt like a ghost among them. Like if she were to leave the room, no one would notice the absence. Hermione knew Snape of all people would have understood the feeling.
-
One windy September 29th, Unspeakable Granger walked the familiar halls of the Time Room, nodding sedately to her coworkers who all returned the gesture in turn. The journal she held in her small, beaded bag was burning a hole through her, the anticipation maddening. She had just begun reading an entry about a classroom incident in her 5th year, one involving her. It always set her skin ablaze to read his words about herself, from mortification and glee in equal spades.
It was about this time that a small blip appeared within the hall, a pulsing orb which was clearly an anomaly. Hermione’s fingers were seconds from pulling her wand free when Jacob Jonovere did the same, flicking his wand and constructing the appropriate containment field. Hermione nodded softly, pleased at his swiftness, when Jonovere literally just... disappeared.
Hermione sprinted over to the wall, slapping her hand desperately over a small, barely visible button. The button depressed, a wail of a siren screaming out from seemingly everywhere.
Hermione’s voice accompanied it, being projected through the button. “Code yellow containment breach in Time Room hall B, between the Oscillation Chamber and the Millenium Box Room. Personal should vacate immediately. Vac unit 1 and 2 are required.”
The alarm hadn’t been quick enough, however.
The few in the hall with her were being consumed by the small, pulsing spheres, their bodies disappearing on contact. Hermione placed a shield charm over herself, backing towards the exit hastily. She felt the knob behind her, and almost breathed out in relief when one of the orbs came through the ceiling and descended upon her.
She only had a brief moment to regret not finishing the journal in her bag before her consciousness blinked out of existence.
-
Firstly, it felt like her body was tying itself into knots, over and under and over again. Then, she was unraveling, falling into ribbons, losing herself perpetually.
Then she was just asleep. Blissfully, silently asleep, dreaming of nothing at all.
A loud bang disturbed this gentle sleep, Hermione’s eyes shot open almost painfully.
At her gasp, the indomitable figure of Severus Snape turned on his heel and came toe to toe with her. He loomed over her desk, his penetrating gaze disdainful and sharp. It literally took her breath away, how very real he was.
“Day dreaming, Miss Granger?” he spat icily. “Insufferable.”
And Hermione began to cry.
She couldn’t help it. Not as she took in his face, a face she’d never realized was so youthful and intentionally severe. Eyes so full of life, darkened by pain and lack of sleep. She cried for all the tears she held in at his funeral, empty casket and empty chairs. Hermione couldn’t bloody believe it.
“Well,” Severus Snape intoned. “Crying on command is new,” he snarked, seemingly taking pleasure from what appeared to him to be fear in her eyes. When she continued to look up at him in awe, his expression shifted. He looked a bit uncomfortable. “What ever is the matter, girl?”
A small smile cracked across Hermione’s face, her steady trickle of tears redirecting around her cheeks. “N-nothing, sir...” It felt so... so good to see him. Healing, almost. Like her years of solitarily preserving his memory hadn’t been wasted. Not if it had brought her here. To him.
Professor Snape stiffened, an almost unwilling look of confusion and bafflement pinching his brows and cocking his head. “Miss Granger, have you taken leave of your senses?”
Hermione let out a small, watery chuckle. With her reverie broken, she finally dashed her tears away, wiping her eyes with the hem of her robe sleeves. “I must have, sir, I must have.” Tears no longer came, but she couldn’t stop looking at his face. He looked so different through her experienced eyes, so young and fascinatingly handsome. Like a dagger, regret stabbed her quietly through the heart. He hadn’t deserved to die, but she knew there was no way to stop it. She had a duty to uphold as an Unspeakable and a Keeper of the Time Room.
“Return to your... your punishment, Miss Granger,” Severus murmured uneasily, his eyes shifting away from her. He was uncomfortable, Hermione realized. She needed to calm down and just... live out the past moment as normally as she could. Perhaps if she lived out the memory as accurately as possible, she would be returned to her time.
“Yes, sir,” she said, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way her voice caught as she addressed him. Severus returned to his desk, and Hermione returned to... whatever it was she was doing for detention. She looked down at the desk, salamander dissection. Oh, lovely.
She worked in silence, separating the gelatinous pieces of the salamanders she was breaking down in stunned silence. What had this detention been for? She could hardly recall now, it had been something like twenty years ago. All Hermione knew was that she was here, as in, literally here. She could feel a splinter from her stool digging into her leg, feel the flush in her face from seeing Severus Snape battle with the perpetual draft of the dungeons. What was happening? What sort of anomaly moved people into their past so specifically? Hermione looked down to her chest, noting a distinct lack of something. This was most certainly not her adult body. And if her body was missing from her time, where was it?
“Miss Granger, you are mangling my ingredients.” Hermione heard from above her, startling her out of her stupor. The salamander eye she’d been handling was squashed uselessly between her thumb and her index finger. Snape stared down at her as if she were a bug under his shoe, and it was such a nostalgic look Hermione forgot to be frightened.
Inanely, she smiled.
This further irritated her potions professor. “You are acting irregular, girl,” he said with a deep scowl.
“I apologize...” Hermione murmured awkwardly, a bit dazed. She could not for the life of her recall this detention. What in the world had she done the last time around? Her cheeks colored at her own embarrassment. Some kind of Time Keeper she was, she couldn’t even remember her own life.
“Have you run a temperature?” Snape sniffed, his eyes narrowing. His pale hand shot out before Hermione knew what to do.
“Uh...” Hermione began, silenced by his icy cool hand on her warm forehead. At the touch, Hermione shivered, delighted and horrified all at once. She didn’t want him stop. “N-no, sir.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he cut back. “You certainly are flushed and you seem to be feverish,” he commented dryly, removing his hand.
Hermione whimpered.
“And seemingly delirious,” he added with a sneer, withdrawing further. “Come, I will escort you to the Hospital Wing before you faint or, Merlin forbid, vomit within my classroom.”
Severus swept towards the doors to his classroom dramatically, Hermione dazedly standing from her stool. Was she feverish? She checked her own forehead, realizing belatedly that you couldn’t truly check your own temperature.
“Come along, Granger,” he said, crossing his arms. “Or I shall leave you behind.”
“Yes, sir,” Hermione agreed, hazily following behind. As she moved in the wake of her acerbic Professor, Hermione truly could not recall a time where she had ever had been sick with fever during her fifth year, nor had she ever served detention alone with Severus Snape. That would have been unforgettable, even if she hadn’t been mildly besotted with him since fourth year.
It was about that time when Hermione forgot how to balance herself, that or the floor simply gave way. She dazedly expected to feel the bite of hard stone against her face but instead, all she felt was held.
Warm wool encompassed her like a cocoon, her body suddenly weightless as two strong arms caught her and carried her forth.
“Professor?” Hermione murmured dizzily, realizing that yes, she was indeed feverish.
“Hmm,” he hummed in return, stalking down the hall without his customary billow, as his robes had been, perhaps unintentionally, wrapped around her.
She felt whole in his grasp, momentarily allowing herself to feel content and dreamy as she lay her head against his chest. The man stiffened, but his resolve won out as he continued silently. Hermione could faintly hear the beating of his heart against her face.
He did scoff when she couldn’t help but sigh contentedly.
“Ridiculous girl,” he muttered, but not nastily at all. Rather... gently.
Hermione nuzzled her face into the collar of his robes, smelling his unique scent of masculine herbs and caustic ingredients, feeling faint and confused. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She felt the rumble of a short laugh from his chest. “Are you, now?” Severus chuckled. “You must be very sick indeed. Perhaps a bump on the head along with that fever.”
“Perhaps a kiss on the head will make me all better,” Hermione replied happily, censors all but gone.
“You are stark raving mad...” Severus commented, shaking his head. He hoisted her in his arms, adjusting his grasp on her form.
“Professor?” Hermione murmured softly, losing herself to her thudding headache and confusion.
“What is it?”
“I don’t want you to die...” she admitted hazily, feeling herself slipping away to a feverish sleep.
As Hermione went limp in his grasp, Severus Snape paused in the hall just steps away from the hospital wing, eyes wide.
His stride faltered as he held the girl, now dozing in his arms and hot against his chest, her fever pitching.
Deep within him, Severus felt a pang of sorrow... of regret. Looking down at his charge, at her sleeping face, he sighed.
“I’m afraid, Miss Granger, that I will likely disappoint you,” he murmured softly, continuing on. He realized, as he transferred his charge to a cot in the hospital wing, that he didn’t want to disappoint the girl.
-
Bright, blinding light beat down on Hermione from behind her eyelids, making her squirm away and moan. Her head was pounding like someone had beat her with a mallet and she was sure she was going to die from nausea.
Sadly, she also felt the loss of her professor’s arms. Had that been a dream?
Hermione reluctantly opened her eyes, squinting at the light, expecting the sun or a hospital bulb, but instead she was inches from one of those orbs. Orbs! Unspeakable Granger, now fully back to her wits, conjured a reversed shield around the orb, standing quickly and reaching for her emergency beacon. It would alert all members of staff who were on the need to know list for security breaches like this.
As she pressed her hand to the beacon, she looked at the orb ruefully. “You little bugger, messing with my mind.”
It undulated passively, hovering in the air.
Hermione took stock of her surroundings. Around her in the halls of the department were here colleagues, most of them unconscious, but some also attempting to contain orbs of their own. She heard a gasp and turned, watching as Eleanore Eavesby’s orb seemed to turn to ash and crumple to the ground. All around the hall, the orbs began to do this, and Hermione was intent on making sure hers didn’t escape or what have you.
Its color began to shift.
“Oh no you don’t!” Hermione growled, intending on casting a status charm on it. As her wand sent the charm out, it was a moment too late. The orb wobbled, withered, then turned to dark dust which scattered harmlessly against the stone floor. Hermione let out a gust of air, disappointed and confused. Her head hurt, her stomach was in knots, and she didn’t know what that thing had done. Fantasy? Dream? Time anomaly? It was hard working as a Time Keeper to be sure sometimes.
Once the hazard team had swept the area and given the al clear, two irritating hours of scanning and nothing much else, Hermione finally made it back to her office. The dark room was much as she left it, the desk she’d pilfered from Severus Snape’s old office sat proudly in the center, cluttered with her own work instead of his. Hermione slipped out of her robes and tossed them to her chair, rolling up her sleeves and preparing for another ream of paperwork when she noticed, peculiarly, that her perpetually empty portrait of Severus Snape was gone. She stared at the landscape of Bath, confusion and exhaustion making her brain seize. It was always there, above the fireplace. Hadn’t it been? It had, she’d dragged it here herself from Hogwarts... No one else wanted the empty frame. She continued to stare as the moments went on, until the floo flared green, startling her back. A dark shaped materialized out of the fire, standing tall and commanding over the room, dusting soot of their black coat as their voice filled the small office.
“... bloody nightmare, having to go into London to grab curry after the day I’ve had, but you had to have curry,” he grumbled, his deep voice sending little shockwaves down Hermione’s spine as she froze.
Dark hair, dark eyes, dark muggle coat that flattered him awfully more than a cloak ever did. His hair was longer than she ever remembered it being, a hint of gray in the front. How could this be? How...
“Hermione, you’re gawping,” Severus Snape chuckled, placing a paper bag of takeaway on her.. his... the desk before rounding on her and placing a tender kiss on her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Severus?” she murmured, awestruck. He looked down at her then, concern etched onto his face. Oh his face, he looked so wonderful, and healthy, and unbelievably alive. Her face split into a grin which had him instantly relaxing. “Severus!”
“Silly girl. What, were you waiting for me?” He wrapped his arms around her, those strong, secure arms which she felt she’d just been held by.
“Yes,” she whispered into his lapel. “I was waiting for you.”
~