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Chapter Text

“Come in!”

Hermione opened the large door and slipped inside the headmaster’s office. The inhabited portraits on the wall ceased their chatter and all turned to stare at her as she entered. They seemed anticipatory. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. What was this meeting for? Her eyes moved around the ornate and brightly lit room, catching on various magical objects, before finally landing on Fawkes- cawing in welcome- and Professor Dumbledore seated behind his desk, hands folded together. He smiled, eyes twinkling kindly.

“Miss Granger, a pleasure as always. Please have a seat.” He unfolded his hands and reached for a bowl on his desk, picking it up and offering it towards her. “I am out of lemon drops, but I have some Every Flavor Beans if you would like some.”

Hermione sat gingerly and shook her head slightly, smiling politely. “No thank you, Professor.” What is this all about, she wanted to ask. She resisted firmly the temptation to fidget and bounce around on the chair in anticipation. If there is anything Hermione Granger had difficulty doing, it was being patient when there was vital information waiting to be devoured.

Dumbledore’s smile widened slightly at the ends of his mouth and his eyes glinted sharply. He replaced the bowl on his desk, leaning back and pushing his chair away so he could stand. “I see you are immune to my bumbling pleasantries,” he commented amusedly. “No doubt you are wondering why I called you here tonight.” He moved around the desk, coming to stand next to Fawkes, perched on his stand, and he stroked his beak and head gently. “Did you follow all of my instructions exactly?”

“Yes, Professor.” She took a breath and straightened in her chair, shoulders back, head up and tried her best to look prepared. She replied after smoothing down her skirt. “I am in full uniform, I told my friends that I had detention with Professor Snape, and I made sure that I was seen headed to the Defense classroom. I made sure I wasn’t followed here, and no one will be waiting up for me tonight.” She paused, looking up at him enquiringly. “Professor Snape knows that…”

“Oh yes, Professor Snape is aware that you should be in detention.” He continued to stroke Fawkes’ feathers. She waited for the ‘but I have let him know you will not be’, but it never came.

Dumbledore sighed and removed his hands from Fawkes. “I called you here tonight, Miss Granger, for a task that is vitally important for the fight against Voldemort.” He turned to look at her with those piercing, twinkling eyes and she forced herself to continue to sit up and to look much braver than she felt. “You are not technically of age for another week or so,” he continued, gazing at her pointedly before chuckling slightly, “but I believe some time turner usage a few years ago may have moved your true birthday up a bit. Therefore, I will not worry too much about the legalities or implications of giving you such a dangerous task now. That is,” he paused, looking at her with a serious expression, “if you are amenable to completing it.”

“I understand how important defeating You-Know-Who is, sir.” She replied. “Of course, I would do anything to help.” Hermione decided to stand at this moment, showing respect for the gravity of the conversation. She met his eyes and held his gaze. “I am ready.”

“Well, Miss Granger, I appreciate your Gryffindor spirit.” He said this quietly, unsmiling and without his usual twinkling eyes. “But let us get a further explanation before we begin. Come.” He stretched out his hand to her and she took it cautiously, not yet understanding. “I’m sure you have read about the sensation of side-along apparition before. Be sure to hold tight to my hand and try not to succumb to dizziness.” Then, with a crack, they left the headmaster’s office.

With another crack, they arrived in the empty seventh-floor corridor, Hermione’s head pulsing. She released Dumbledore’s hand and raised it to rub the side of her head through her thick, wild curls.

“Apparition in Hogwarts, Professor?” She asked, looking up at him. She was thinking she knew the answer already but wanting to be sure.

“Ah, yes. One of the few benefits of being the Headmaster.” Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, towards the blank wall, pausing. Before them both, the wall flowed, shimmered, and morphed in front of them as a wooden, unassuming door appeared.

Hermione frowned, puzzled. “The Room of Requirement.”

“Yes, Miss Granger. It has what you will require for the task ahead.” And with that, he stepped forward and opened the door, gesturing with his hand for her to step through ahead of him.

Hermione entered the room and as Professor Dumbledore quietly shut the door behind them, she gasped. It wasn’t that the room looked abnormal or extraordinary, it was that it looked so familiar. She was standing in an exact replica of the sixth-year Gryffindor girls’ suite, or at least, her side of it. There were her four-poster bed, her dresser and nightstand, her trunk filled with books and other belongings, even the same Gryffindor scarf tied around one of the posts. As for the rest of the room, where the beds and belongings of the other girls should have been, there was empty floor and wall space. The one difference was in front of the wall directly opposite her bed. Against the wall stood a marble pedestal with a small leather-bound journal on top of it. On top of the journal rested a…

“A time turner?” Hermione turned back to Professor Dumbledore. “I thought they were all destroyed this past summer.”

“The ones at the Ministry were,” he answered, finally smiling and twinkling again, “but this one was not at the Ministry. It was here, waiting for this task." He gestured for her to move forward into the room. She was somewhat unsure which way to go. To the bed, to sit down and listen to him explain? No, of course she couldn’t. Hermione Granger had to find out for herself.

She walked calmly towards the marble pedestal and examined the time turner. It looked a little different than the one she had used in her third year. That was only to get to all the classes she had signed up for, at least that was the original intention. She thought grimly about her last venture through time and how it had only bought Sirius two extra years. What could this time turner be for?

The time turner contained the normal hourglass shape encompassed in a rotatable sphere; however, unlike her previous one, this one had markings on it for the day, month, year, and on the other side, the second, minute, hour.

“It is an adapted time turner that has been modified for these purposes. The only one like it, in fact.” Professor Dumbledore seemed to enjoy explaining without explaining.

Hermione lifted the time turner and swiveled slightly to look at Dumbledore for permission. He gave a small nod, and she placed this time turner over her head and around her neck. The chain was cool against her skin, and the time turner fell perfectly between the beginning swell of her breasts, easily hidden under her shirt.

“Now, Miss Granger, I know you are familiar with the use of a time turner. I am glad of it, for that experience will guide you during your use of this one. You should be careful not to be seen unless you can verify the whereabouts of any counterparts you have in that time.” Right, she thought, remembering the many near misses she had had when she and Harry had rescued Sirius and Buckbeak. Can’t see myself or risk being seen by anyone else.

“The notebook,” Dumbledore continued, gesturing back towards the pedestal and the leatherbound journal, “will be a necessity. It is charmed for only you to use and read. You should take meticulous notes to ensure you do not disrupt the timeline. As I mentioned already, this particular time turner is unique. Not only can you travel backwards or forwards across years, but you may also stay in those times for long periods.”

Dumbledore kept the same gentle smile, but his eyes flashed now, the twinkle suddenly becoming almost dangerous. “However, there is always a danger in overstaying one’s welcome in a foreign time, even with this specific time turner. I know you will not misuse this great trust we all place in you by…lingering.”

“Absolutely, Professor.” Fear, excitement, anticipation filled her.

“Ah, good.” The tension in the air at his almost threat dissipated. “And Hermione,” he said gently now, his face shifting so that he looked almost regretful, “this conversation will serve as sufficient evidence to absolve you if anyone is inclined to place blame for your actions.”

“Blame, Professor? Do you mean for meddling with time?” She asked quizzically.

“No, Hermione, I mean for not meddling even more. For doing the very thing you should and returning to your own time. You will have to return in the long run, and the least I can do for that sacrifice is to absolve you from the weight of that decision.” He looked at her pointedly. “You must return.” His tone left no room for disagreement.

She nodded, heart in her throat. Waiting.

“Here,” Dumbledore reached into the pocket of his billowing magenta robes and pulled out a piece of parchment, “is the task.”

She took the scrap from his hands and read it breathlessly.

8th of September, 1996 to 1st of May, 1998
Room of Requirement to Shrieking Shack
Take what you need to save a life.

She read it through a few times, absorbing the information. The future? She’d be going to the future? “Professor,” Hermione said slowly. “I wrote this, didn’t I? This is my handwriting.”
If that’s true, why wasn’t I more specific with what I needed to take? I should have written an organized list of necessities. She grumbled, slightly angry at her future self. What do you need to save a life? She thought. Let’s see, she began making up an organized list in her own head. Food, water, maybe a change of clothes, bandages, gauze, bezoar, blood replenishing potion, dittany…

“Well, Miss Granger, that would certainly make sense.” Dumbledore answered her, beginning to move around the room. He walked over to the trunk at the foot of her replica bed and opened it up. “It appears that everything you need will be in here. Simply think of it and the room will provide it.” He moved towards the door.

“Wait, Professor! A few more questions, please.” She bit her lip and looked at the scrap of parchment again. “This doesn’t list any time of day, only dates. Also, should I go to the Shrieking Shack now or should I wait until…then?”

“Ah yes, well as for the time of day in 1998, I have no idea. Perhaps to be safest, choose to arrive at midnight on the 1st of May so as not to miss anything. As for the time today,” he raised his wand and cast a Tempus charm. “It is 9:32 pm. You arrived at my office at 9 pm, just as requested. Coincidentally, that was also the time you were expected for detention with Professor Snape.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows pointedly, so she understood the implication. “Also, I am not sure about the location, but I will hazard a guess that it is better for you to not venture back through the hallways at this time since you should be in detention.” He smiled. “Goodnight, Miss Granger.” And with that, he opened the door and exited quickly.

Well, Hermione thought to herself. I suppose I should gather up my life-saving kit and get going.

She refused to think of the one question she hadn’t asked. If she was going to the future and coming right back, then how did Dumbledore already have the note in her handwriting?

Chapter Text

Hermione shrunk the items she thought she would need into the exact replica of her school satchel bag that she found in the Room of Requirement and prepared to journey forward to the future. She had decided on four changes of clothes for herself, not knowing how long she would be in 1998 or how dirty she was likely to get. Thankfully, since these were all clothes generated by the Room of Requirement, she could simply vanish anything she was finished with. There were also a number of snacks and other food items, a few bottles of water, healing potions, muggle first-aid supplies like bandages, and a book she found in the trunk called Medicinal Magic: A Helpful Guide for the Aspiring Mediwitch by Xanthe Bishop-Cook. Making sure these were all shrunk into her bag, she stood up and put her shoulders back.

Hermione sighed. She thought she was as ready as she would ever be. She looked back at the scrap of parchment she had been given by Professor Dumbledore.

8th of September, 1996 to 1st of May, 1998
Room of Requirement to Shrieking Shack
Take what you need to save a life.

Oh right, she thought. I almost forgot.

She walked back over to the marble pedestal and grabbed the leatherbound journal. Picking it up and flipping through it to make sure it was empty, she placed it gingerly into her school satchel. Thankfully, this bag was an exact replica of her regular bag, so the spare quills, ink, and parchment were already in it.

Heart hammering in her chest, she double-checked that her wand was correctly in her robe pocket before lifting the Time-Turner gingerly out from under her white button-down shirt.

Her mind had been whirling around trying to prepare mentally while she had thought of all necessities to pack. Hermione Granger was nothing if not logically thorough. While she meticulously went through items she might need as they magically appeared in the facsimile trunk, her heart ached at the implications of the note.

Take what you need to save a life.

Whose life? Ron’s life? Harry’s life?

Probably Harry’s, she had thought. The Chosen One, The Boy-Who-Lived. Of course, Harry being in danger would be something that needed to be averted. Something important enough to travel through time and risk making catastrophic changes.

Now, holding the Time-Turner in her hand and slowly changing the notches like the cogs on a combination lock, she steeled herself.

01.05.1998
00:00:00

The Time-Turner clicked into place, waiting to be spun.

She gathered up her Gryffindor bravery and thought of her friends. Ron, the friend and the boy she’d liked on and off for years. Harry, who was probably the one she needed to save from death.

This was why she was needed for this task. She, who had been helping Harry avert death for years and had already saved a life with a Time-Turner once, was the perfect person for this task. She had already admitted last year, before the Department of Mysteries fiasco- and certainly after- that she was signing up to protect Harry regardless of the danger.

Even unto death, she thought. For that is what true friends do.

And at that thought, she spun the hourglass.

---

Hermione felt herself thrown forward with a bang as she hit a wall, slamming her right side against it. She groaned and rose to her feet, heart pounding.

What the hell?

She glanced around and found herself in the seventh-floor corridor, outside what should have been the Room of Requirement.

Dragon Shite,she thought. Did it work?

The Hogwarts corridor was quiet and empty, just as it had been when she left. She lifted her left hand up to rub her right arm. It ached from hitting the wall and she was sure she was bruised from the impact. She stretched it a little before reaching for her wand and pulling it from her robes.

“Tempus,” she whispered. Huh, she thought, looking at the time and date. It did work after all. Then why am I outside the Room?

It frustrated her to leave that question unanswered for now, but she couldn’t let time get away from her. Hermione quickly disillusioned herself and set off down the corridor, making her way slowly and quietly through the castle.

It felt eerie. Hogwarts was her home, but this Hogwarts had a different air about it. True, she wasn’t often out in the castle this late, so perhaps it was just the darkness…

No, there was definitely something going on. Many of the portraits were abandoned, and those that weren’t had many painted figures huddled together, likely visitors from other scenes. Some were sleeping, but others looked as if they couldn’t sleep. Scared or watching? Hermione gripped her wand tighter and shuffled a little faster, not wanting to break into a loud sprint yet.

Somewhere on the third floor, she started to get the creeping feeling she was being followed. A simple lumos would undo being hidden by the disillusionment charm and wasn’t worth it. Yet a quick glimpse behind her offered nothing.

Maybe they’re disillusioned too? What a comforting thought.

She suddenly changed her mind about how she would get to the Shrieking Shack.

Instead of going through the Whomping Willow, I’ll use the passage to Hogsmeade under the One-Eyed Witch and just enter the Shack from the street. She had originally discounted this route as overly complicated and riskier than it needed to be, but she had to shake the person following her. Better that way than getting caught before I get out of the castle.

Hermione quickly flattened herself against the wall and waited, trying to still her breathing.

There. The person following her had stopped too.

She held her position and waited. Slowly, she felt the presence drift away.

After holding a few more breaths, she moved carefully away from the wall and continued down the corridor. The statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor was about 20 wandlengths away now. Almost there, almost-

She was yanked backward. There was a jolt as a silencing charm hit her in the face. She felt her back hit a hard chest, arms encompass her, and a wand tip press sharply under her chin.

“Do you have a death wish?” A familiar voice hissed in her ear.

Hermione felt herself being pulled back into a window alcove and pushed down into the window seat. She looked up at Professor Snape, his dark eyes flashing murderously.

He continued to glare down at her as he moved his wand fluidly, and she felt the hum of non-verbal spells encompass the window alcove. A Notice-Me-Not, some sort of muffling spell…

Merlin’s balls. Dragon Shite. Fucking hell. How many minutes into the future did it take for me to get seen? Her heart pounded through her chest and she felt ringing in her ears. No, wait, you can get out of this Hermione. Just remember that next year when you’re a Seventh Year, you’ll get a really awful detention from Snape for being caught out of bed. Future Hermione will remember this and cover for you and no one has to know about the time travel. I’ll definitely write this down in the journal so I can remember that when it comes to it.

He is taking a lot of time to make sure we aren’t disturbed.

“Well?” He hissed, apparently having finished his casting. “Were you seen?” Snape must have only just woken up and dressed quickly. He didn’t have his normal cloak or frock coat on. He still looked imposing in just the white button-up shirt and black trousers and Hermione gaped at him, still in shock and wondering what to say.

Does he know about the Time-Turner? How does he know I can’t be seen?

She shook her head slowly to tell him no, frizzy curls bouncing. Professor Snape grabbed her hand and yanked her out of the window seat to her feet. She felt his wand hit under her chin again and his body pressed up against her, pushing her into the wall.

“Tell me something only Hermione Granger would know.” His black eyes glinted at her, face stern and impenetrable.

What? How paranoid is he?

She tried talking but nothing came out. He exhaled, appearing to remember the silencing charm and wandlessly canceled it with his left hand, steadily holding the wand to her chin with his right.

“I was at the Department of Mysteries-”

He snorted. “Common knowledge. You’re supposed to be smarter than that.”

This is excessive, she thought furiously. He’s scaring the living daylights out of me and isn’t it illegal to use spells on students like this? Well, might as well go for broke.

“I set you on fire during a Quidditch match in my first year.” There, that should shock him enough and certainly proved it was her. Who would admit to that if they hadn’t done it? Maybe I can warn him back in detention in 1996 to go easy on me next year. She winced and waited.

To her astonishment, Snape barked out a laugh, removed his wand and pulled her quickly into his arms, holding her tightly.

What the…

“Hermione.” She had never heard her name said with such emotion. His breathing was ragged. He held her with one hand on the back of her neck and one at the small of her back, gripping her protectively. Still in shock, she held herself there without struggling, pleasantly assaulted by the smell of him. Musty, but not in a bad way. Like the wonderful smells of old books or rain-soaked clothes. She breathed in, almost forgetting the strange scenario.

Finally, she pulled her head slowly away from his chest and looked up, only to be greeted by his lips against hers. She gasped in surprise, but that only deepened the kiss. She gave another attempt to open her mouth to speak before his lips continued against hers and she felt him quickly suckle at her lower lip. As he kissed her, she felt the heat rise in her face and her heart start pounding again. She felt like she was disembodied, herself watching from afar as her body moved, no longer able to control itself from panting and kissing him back gently. She was not able to stop his languid kisses and not thinking clearly enough to want to, holding onto him by the front of his shirt for support.

He pulled away from her just as she was thinking of truly kissing him back. “You hesitate.”

“I-” What do I say? In this timeline I’m having an affair with my professor! When did this happen? Do I play along with this? If I’m having an affair with him do I trust him with this task? I don’t know if I can fake this convincingly.

“I-I need to go.” She said lamely, removing her hands from his shirt. That might work for a number of scenarios.

“Of course. How can I be of assistance?” Snape’s black eyes shone brilliantly down at her; his raven hair glinted in the moonlight coming from the window. He hadn’t moved his hands from behind her, though she wasn’t pressed flush against his chest anymore.
Hermione didn’t answer, trying to puzzle out what she needed to say. ‘I can make it back to Gryffindor Tower myself,’ might make the most sense as a Seventh-Year student having a torrid affair with a professor. ‘I need to get to the Shrieking Shack,’ if he knew about the time-traveling.

She believed Snape could be trusted, but she dreaded breaking the timeline in some way by revealing herself.

“I don’t need any help.”

He snorted amusedly and raised a hand to her face to brush some errant curls away. “If that were true, I wouldn’t have caught you.” He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. “Whatever you’re doing here, it needs to be done quickly. I can’t risk being seen with you and Merlin knows you can’t explain any allegiance with me.” His dark eyes peered into hers, continuing to keep her unsettled. “Tell me what must be done. I haven’t heard the Caterwauling Charm, so you must have taken care of that. Or have you been hiding on the seventh floor with the rest of the students?”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Were there students in the Room of Requirement? Is that why she didn’t land directly there?

He couldn’t miss her confusion, of course, being so close to her. The fire faded from his black eyes almost instantly. “Hermione,” he drawled slowly, pulling back from her face, “how did you get into the castle?”

Hermione couldn’t hide the flush or the abject fear on her face. She bit her lip nervously.

Snape snarled and moved his hands from behind her back to her front. They pushed under her robe to her shirt as she gasped. He quickly attacked the buttons on her blouse, unbuttoning them.

What is he doing? Heat soared through her body as he pulled at the buttons. Do I even want him to stop? She was completely red by now.

He got about four buttons down when he groaned and pushed away from her. He put his head in his hands and turned away, facing the opposite wall and sinking against it.

My breasts aren’t that small, she thought embarrassedly. Oh, wait.

Fuck. He’d seen the Time-Turner.

“Sir, I’m so sorry,” she babbled, buttoning her shirt back up as she trembled. “I swear I wasn’t seen by anyone else…and I know you can act without disrupting the timeline…” She trailed off as he let out a low moan. What do I do now? Have I ruined everything? This isn’t as bad as being seen by myself, but…gods was this supposed to happen? Have I changed everything now?

“All this time,” she heard him say from his seat on the floor. “All this time and it began with me. I hated you for so long, questioned your motives, but it was my doing all along…” He trailed off, not explaining further.

What does he mean it began with him?

He turned back and looked up at her and her heart broke for him, despite not completely understanding. Snape looked like a broken man, raw. His face was an open book of sorrow and guilt. She had seen more emotion out of Professor Snape in the last few minutes than she had seen from him in the last five years. She dropped down to her knees and scooted over to him, wanting to comfort him. This was all so strange, but he clearly cared for her. For future her. After those fiery kisses, she didn’t want to object too much.

“Forgive me, Hermione.” He whispered. He turned towards her fully and reached for her but seemed to think better of it and pulled away. Before he retreated completely, she reached forward and grasped his hand in hers.

“It was only kissing,” she said breathlessly, flushing anew. And I liked it.

He let out a low chuckle, smiling sadly in a crooked grin. “Oh my sweet girl, that’s the least of it.” Her flush deepened. She suspected that, of course. She resisted the urge to nervously twist her wild hair with her other hand.

She looked at him shyly as he stared back, apparently willing her to forgive him with looks alone. Hermione examined Snape, attempting to take him in fully now that she didn’t have to hide her ignorance of whatever had passed between them in the last year and a half. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, and his wiry form clung through the material. His face was pale as ever and his dark eyes were shining with- perhaps with unshed tears, perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight. The deep circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced than she’d ever noticed before. His nose fit his face nicely, prominent to be sure, but distinguished. His dark hair hung down, framing his face. It didn’t appear to be greasy. She wondered about touching it. If it wasn’t as soft as it looked, if it was greasy, would he let her wash it? Thread her hands through his hair, rub his scalp and-

“Come.” He began to stand, still holding her hand, and lifted her up with him. “You came for a purpose and I suspect it was not that revelation.” He said the last word with a sneer, and she realized it was meant for himself, not for her. How many of his facial expressions and mannerisms have been self-deprecating? She wondered.

“I need to get to the Shrieking Shack.”

“Then, Miss Granger, I shall be your escort.” And as he canceled the spells on the alcove, disillusioned them both, and led her down the hall still grasping her hand, she tried to clamp down her next thoughts.

Say my name. Call me Hermione again.

Chapter Text

Through his capable hands, they had made it down through the great doors (a better plan than the One-Eyed Witch passage), across the grounds under the moonlight, and through the secret passage under the Whomping Willow. Having travelled carefully and silently through the passageway and into the Shack, Hermione emerged from the passage ready. Wand out, she cast a presence revealing charm, and finding nothing but the two glowing lights representing herself and Snape, she sighed.

“I’ll be waiting here for a bit,” she told him. “I’ll be alright. I have plenty of supplies. I can transfigure some clothes I brought into a blanket and I have a book.”

“Undoubtedly you came here in the middle of the night for the quiet reading space.” She turned around to look at him and saw a smirk on his face to go along with his raised right brow. She grinned. I’m not used to Professor Snape being cheeky, she thought. It suits him.

She remembered the last time she had been in the Shrieking Shack. “Yes, well it beats running from a werewolf, sir.” The smirk fell quickly from his face. She felt the air stiffen with him and her grin fell as well. She realized too late that this had been far too familiar of a reference. “Sorry sir,” she flushed, looking down. See, I pushed it too far. Clever aren’t you, Hermione.

Hermione turned away from Snape and looked for a place to settle in. She found a quiet, dusty corner that would do well. It had a good view of the opening passage as well as the stairs and it appeared to be uninhabited by spiders. As she pushed her back against the wall and lowered herself to sit, she was surprised to feel Snape doing the same and sliding down the wall slowly to her left. He sat casually with his legs bent at the knee and an arm resting over them. His right arm fell down to his side, next to her. She wondered if he wanted to hold hands again. I wouldn’t object.

“I’m here now, you don’t need to stay.”

“I prefer it.”

“To sleeping?”

“I don’t sleep much now.” She looked over at him, catching his profile as he stared straight ahead. He did look haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked paler than she remembered, if that was possible.

She felt her heart ache to help him somehow, comfort him. After all, even if she weren’t ready for a torrid romance now, apparently it couldn’t be too far ahead. But she wanted to comfort him, really, even apart from that. Hadn’t she always defended him when Harry and Ron disparaged the ‘greasy dungeon bat’? ‘He is our Professor!’ and ‘It’s Professor Snape, Harry.’ As for the appropriateness of it all, with some sort of affair going on and her having time-traveled from the past…

She was bursting at the seams to ask a few things though, so they could start with talking.

“Can I ask any questions? About what it’s like now?” He continued looking ahead, but his lips pursed slightly.

“I have a few questions myself Miss Granger; however, it would be unwise to ask them all.” Great, it’s back to Miss Granger now. Well, you did call him sir.

He glanced down at her. “Let us both tread carefully and use discernment as to what should be divulged.”

“I don’t have any information you wouldn’t know about.”

“No? What time are you from exactly? What is your mission here? Have you been to any other times or are you going to any others after this? None of these are answers I have.”

“I don’t understand though, why couldn’t I tell you that? You are ahead of me chronologically, so it should just be telling me things that shouldn’t be allowed, right?”

He sighed tiredly. “Granger, you’re assuming time is a loop and inalterable. You are operating on the assumption that there is no way to truly change the past. If it is a loop, that would be correct. If it is alterable, if there is such a possibility of altering the timeline and splitting outcomes into new varied dimensions, then perhaps our conversation here would affect your knowledge or behavior in the past once you return to it. That may, in turn, affect my own previous behavior or the behavior of others and alter this present we find ourselves in.” He sneered and put his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “Though it is fairly fucked at this point, so why not?”

She ignored the last comment, too curious about time theory. “What’s your opinion? Is time inalterable?”

“I have no way of knowing for sure as of yet.”

She looked at him thoughtfully and they sat in silence for a few moments. “But you already believe something that happened now has affected the past,” she said slowly and quietly. She bit her lip before continuing. “You told me it all started with you… and you meant the you here tonight, don’t you? This future you- I mean the present for yourself…. That is...” She waved her hands and pointed at him. “You said that the you here in 1998 started something that already happened. That was what you were saying, isn’t it? I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Snape turned to face her fully now. “When are you from?” It seemed he had decided to ignore the time-altering implications by asking that question.

“1996. Start of my sixth year.”

“Is this your first time using a Time-Turner?”

“No. I used it in my third year.” His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.  She took a deep breath and looked down, playing with her hands a little. “I was using it all year to go to extra classes. Then at the end of the year, Harry and I used it to go back a few hours. We helped Sirius Black escape the dementors and keep Buckbeak from getting executed.” His eyes closed.

“Albus didn’t tell me the exact details. I suspected Potter was involved somehow and with his approval, but that does explain the course of events that night.”

“That’s all of my Time-Turner experience before tonight.”

He opened his eyes then and looked at her. His dark eyes were penetrating. He simply stared for a full minute and she felt herself turning red. Finally, he appeared to relax and sat back and turned away. “Keep it that way, Granger. Get back to your own time and stay there. Then we can test the hypothesis about time being a loop.” She nodded.

This was strange. He was acting familiar with her…of a sort. Here he was, sitting next to her on the floor of the Shrieking Shack in the middle of the night, almost scandalously dressed compared to his regular attire, and answering her questions about time and being…polite, really. It was all very un-Snapelike, but it was also stilted. It was different than it had been not even an hour ago in the third-floor corridor. He’s acting like this for me, she realized. He knows I’m not the Hermione he was expecting, so he can’t kiss me or hold me…but he’s showing me that he’s friendlier than just the normal Professor Snape.

“The uniform is out of place, you know.” He gestured to her attire, raising an eyebrow. “You should change when you get the chance. Not that you would be foolish enough to let yourself be seen by anyone else.”

“Yes, I was meaning to ask about that. Why is it out of place? It’s still the school year, isn’t it? You said before that I shouldn’t be in the castle. The Easter hols can’t be this late in the year, can they?”

Snape looked away. He paused for a few beats before replying. “You aren’t here this year.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. She flung herself forward, curls bouncing. “Am I dead?” She cried.

He whipped back and stared at her in shock. “What? No! Gods, I should hope not!”

“Well why else wouldn’t I be here? Of course, I would be at Hogwarts in my seventh year! How else can I take my N.E.W.T.S?” Her face paled in horror and realization. “Something terrible must have happened! Oh my goodness, are my parents ill? Is that why I’m gone? Are my parents dead?”

“Hermione,” Snape said firmly. He had his hands on both of her shoulders, jolting her back to reality. His eyes were locked on hers. Those beautiful dark obsidian pools calmed her. She breathed in deeply, then exhaled.

“These hysterics are beneath you.” He’s right, she thought. She wasn’t even offended. “You are here, no doubt sent forward in time by Albus for some purpose. You are fighting in a war. You are no longer a child, Hermione. It only gets harder from here.” He looked at her pointedly. “If you haven’t thought through all the options of what must be done before now- which I sincerely doubt knowing your obsessive knack for planning- then it would do well to contemplate scenarios on your return.”

She nodded, chagrined. She had started to think of what would be necessary for the coming conflict, she only hadn’t fully admitted to herself that it would be so soon or so drastic. When she returned, she would finalize plans- safehouses, supplies for being on the run, perhaps a plan for her parents.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” She lowered her head, sending bouncing curls in front of her face to hide. “I swear I’m not that immature most of the time.” How mortifying. He’s a man and I’m clearly still a girl.

He lowered his hands and shrugged his shoulders. Gods, he keeps staring at me.

Heat flooded her face as she peeked out from behind her hair to look back at him. He raised his right brow and his lips turned up slightly at the corners. “You go through a lot. You mature.” He held out his hand towards her. “Come. You should rest. I will stay here until dawn.”

She complied, scooting back against the wall to sit next to him again. They sat in comfortable silence for a bit before she started to get sleepy.

After some time, she found herself nodding off against his shoulder, but he didn’t pull away. She didn’t want him to.

When Hermione awoke, Snape was gone and there was a faint light coming through the boarded-up windows of the Shack. Casting a Tempus charm, she was surprised to discover it was past 10. I guess it’s hard to get a lot of daylight in here.

Hermione took Snape’s suggestion of changing clothes, at least since her uniform wasn’t the most comfortable thing she had. She changed into jeans and a comfortable blouse, keeping a jumper nearby in case it got chilly. Then she rummaged in her satchel for something to eat and drink. It was a light breakfast of snacks and water, as she wanted to save some of the high-protein fuel for the mission. After all, what if she had to save someone from dying of hunger or malnutrition? Unlikely, but it was better to be prepared.

She settled down to read her book, Medicinal Magic: A Helpful Guide for the Aspiring Mediwitch by Xanthe Bishop-Cook. She was pleased to find out that Ms. Bishop-Cook took a lot of inspiration from muggle healthcare and life-saving techniques. Hermione was fascinated that she hadn’t learned any of these concepts before, but it made sense that wizards would have equivalent first-aid replacements for concepts like Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation (an adapted bubble-head charm plus a spell called Velox Incutio to pound the chest with), intravenous fluids (creating a cut in the vein, inserting the tip of the wand, and incanting Salimenti Tarda) and blood transfusions (blood replenishing potion). It was all so fascinating!

She was already halfway through the book and was starting the section on removing dark magic from the body (there seem to be some professional disagreement as to whether it was best to start fluid replacement before or after performing the counter-curse) when she heard a crack.

Leaping to her feet, dropping the book quickly, and drawing her wand, Hermione prepared for the worst.

“Hello, Miss.”

She looked down. There was a house-elf at her feet.

“Oh!” She lowered her wand and knelt down. “Hello, how are you?”

“I is fine miss. Headmaster sent to see if you has eaten yet miss.”

“He did?” She was puzzled. I suppose Professor Snape told Professor Dumbledore I was here. Either that or Dumbledore remembers sending me forward and knew where I would be. “Thank you, I would appreciate some lunch…er…What is your name?”

“I is Beppy, Miss.”

She smiled brightly. “Thank you, Beppy. Just a sandwich and some fruit would do.”

“Oh no, Miss. Headmaster says, give Miss more than what she asks for. Headmaster knows you is hungry Miss.”

Beppy popped away and was back in another few seconds with a tray of grilled chicken, a small salad, a cup of creamy chicken soup, tea, and a small round strawberry cake. Hermione thanked the elf and tucked in. She was glad the house elf left her in peace to eat because she was famished. She ended up eating the entire meal and was even glad of the cake. She found herself appreciative that Dumbledore had the foresight to send so much food.

She picked up her book again and continued to read. The first half of the book introduced the different healing spells and how they compared to muggle methods and interacted with the body while the second half of the book was more about how to put the spells into practice. While the book wouldn’t make her a mediwitch simply by reading, it was a very thorough overview. She thought she could at least skim the major points and finish the book by mid-afternoon before rereading the more relevant sections in depth.

Hermione was a very quick reader, and she ended up being right about her self-imposed timeline of mid-afternoon. She had just finished reading through the concluding points of each chapter and was circling back to focus on Poisons and Spiritual Possession before moving on to Injuries from Cursed Objects or Creatures when another crack interrupted her thoughts.

Jumping to her feet again, wand drawn, she gaped as she found the source of the noise.

There he was again, this time in full Professor Snape regalia. His black cloak billowed around him as the velocity of apparition faded. He looked powerful and terrifying and his expression only enhanced that impression.

“Granger! Is there a reason you are not disillusioned?”

She gulped, lowering her wand. “No, sir.” She whispered. Then she had a thought and forgot about being cowed. “Wait, sir. I thought you couldn’t apparate into the Shrieking Shack…since it is warded as part of the Hogwarts grounds…that is unless…” She remembered the question she had asked Dumbledore before entering the Room of Requirement. One of the few benefits of being the Headmaster.

She gasped. “You’re the Headmaster! What happened to Professor Dumbledore?”

“Not now, Granger! I am pressed for time and I am not at liberty to satisfy your curiosity. This is urgent.”

Snape scowled, then billowed away from her. He began to pace back and forth around the small room as he spoke, seemingly to himself but at a volume she could hear. “Lucius and Bellatrix were imbeciles to keep everything to themselves until today. The capture…the Manor…yet they couldn’t hide a bloody fucking dragon rampage from the Dark Lord.” He looked up at Hermione then, meeting her eyes before he continued to pace. He spoke directly to her now. “Tell her I must speak with her. I must speak to Potter, truly, but she can be present or even a go-between if he is unable to keep his temper leashed for long enough to listen.” He paused, both in speech and in stride, thinking. He nodded once, then continued pacing. “Definitely the both of them and Weasley as well if he is with them.”

“I- I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

He whipped around to face her. “Surely you are in touch with her by now, as you are still here. It is vital that I speak to her and to Potter.”

She bit her lip and almost stammered like a first year. Last I saw him he was so different! He completely upends me with this back and forth. What persona will he be next? More of Professor Snape or…my lover?

His face contorted and he snarled, answering her unspoken confusion. “YOU! The Hermione in this time has already done this before, correct? She knows you are waiting here, and she can explain your presence to her nitwit companions as she has already lived through it. Or she can pretend the information comes from another, Merlin knows they won’t question her inconceivable ability to solve all of their dilemmas without them lifting a finger. Whether you are in touch with her currently or you simply remember this conversation two years from now, know that I must meet with them as soon as possible!”

He was breathing heavily through his nose, trying not to show it. His fists were clenched, and she saw sweat running down his brow. He’s afraid, she thought.

She didn’t answer for a bit, waiting for his breath to calm.

“Then time is a loop, sir? It must be if I’ll remember this.”

He scowled and turned his head, but she saw one corner of his tight lips jerk upward. Almost like it’s a weakness to show he’s laughing.

She smiled at him, glad to lighten the mood even a little. “I’m not in touch with her- with me- but I’ll remember what you said.” She looked at him attentively, concerned for his worry. “Is there anything else you need me to…pass on?”

“Yes.” Snape came close to her now, standing before her. He was so close she could smell him. He smelled fresher this time- he must have showered this morning. Less like the smell of old books and more like the smell of new, crisp parchment.

She looked up at him. His black eyes were flashing. “I swear to you,” he whispered softly, his voice dark, low, and smooth, “I had no knowledge of what occurred over the last few days until now. If I had, I would have been there, I swear to it. I would have protected you, no matter the cost. And the school, the Dark Lord, even Potter and Albus be damned.” He said the last piece in a low, melodic rumble. He’s so passionate. Fervent.

Her eyes widened. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What has happened?”

Snape closed his eyes, his brow pinched. “Things are coming to a head now. The timing of your mission is exact, as expected. The Dark Lord is infuriated and will not let his followers sleep until you, Potter, and Weasley are captured or killed.” He opened his eyes, meeting hers. “What remains to be seen is who will be victorious, but there is no doubt that there will be…a culmination. Pray it is a battle rather than a slaughter.”

“How soon?”

“Days, if that. Perhaps hours.”

She nodded, a lump in her throat. Be brave, Hermione.

“And you know your mission?” He said quietly.

She nodded again. No use in telling him how vague the note was. That will only make him worry.

“Good.” Snape raised his hand and cupped it to her cheek. She pressed her face back against it, having grown accustomed to his touch over the last day. She had missed him earlier, in fact.

Her eyes were locked on his as he spoke softly. “Remember that I…that I have always…”

He grimaced as if in pain and looked away. “Damn.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione said gently. “You don’t have to say it. I’ll remember.”

He looked back at her. His thumb rubbed against her cheek and moved to her lower lip. He traced it tenderly. She felt herself slowly flush, but knew it wasn’t from embarrassment. She wanted to kiss that thumb, move her head and kiss his hand, lift up to him and kiss his lips…

She wasn’t sure how it would be received. I’m not the right Hermione, she thought bitterly.

Slowly, he removed his hand from her face, dropping it so that it stroked some curls lightly on the way down. No longer touching her, he breathed in and exhaled deeply. He stepped back a pace and nodded to her.

A crack and he was gone.

I can’t believe it, she thought. He loves me.

Chapter Text

Hermione did indeed end up circling back through the vital chapters of Medicinal Magic: A Helpful Guide for the Aspiring Mediwitch over the next few hours. When she finally decided that she knew as much as she could to prepare for being a healer in the middle of a war- one that she knew was sure to start momentarily- she put the book aside and thought of other ways to ready herself. She decided on light exercise to keep her nimble. After stretching, running in place, and doing a few basic workouts, she sat back against the dusty, boarded-up wall of the Shrieking Shack to rest and do what Hermione Granger did best. Think.

Snape was becoming something more to her than he had been just 24 hours ago. For 24 hours ago was actually almost two full years ago…in a way. Only 24 hours ago she had known Snape has the foreboding, bitter, sarcastic, cruel, and prejudiced Potions Master turned Defense teacher. He was the Death Eater that she knew was on their side and loyal to the Order even if he never showed it at all in his classroom manner.

She wasn’t this Hermione that belonged in May 1998 with this Professor Snape, not yet anyway; however, she could start to see how that Hermione wasn’t too far off. After all, hadn’t she seen a different side to the sarcastic, hook-nosed Professor that she had known for five years? Here, he hadn’t been unnecessarily cruel with her. In fact, he had been emotionally open, he had held an intelligent conversation with her about time theory, he seemed to understand her habits and reactions very well, and he had held her and spoken to her like she mattered deeply to him. She was a practical girl, never figured herself much of the romantic type, but all of this was hard to ignore.

There was a tiny fluttering sensation at the top of her chest when she thought of him now. It was similar to the feeling she had had in second year when she would sigh to herself and daydream about Professor Lockhart. They were vastly different men, of course. Lockhart was conventionally handsome, with the award-winning smile and perfectly coifed hair, while Snape was sallow-skinned and hawklike, with slightly crooked teeth and hair that usually appeared greasy.

Yet, it hadn’t actually been the looks that had attracted Hermione to Lockhart. It didn’t hurt to fuel her crush, of course, but the things she had always been drawn to in him were his intelligence, wit, bravery, strength, and magical prowess. Those were all lies and pretenses, she had found out later. They were simply inventions for his books and his legion of fans. Lockhart truly possessed none of those qualities…

…but Snape…

Hermione shook her head, curls bouncing. Focus Hermione. Focus on the facts, not the feelings.

The facts. What had she pieced together so far?

Well, Professor Snape was Headmaster this year and she wasn’t attending Hogwarts. She was with Harry and Ron, if Snape’s entreaty to meet with her future self was any indication. Most likely they were on a mission for the Order, as they would all be of age by next year. Perhaps that’s where Dumbledore is as well. It explained some of Snape’s reaction as well if they had run into danger along the way.

As for any relationship between her and Professor Snape, perhaps it wouldn’t be taboo if she was away from Hogwarts and there was no student-teacher power imbalance involved? She frowned, wondering about that part.

There is something that has convinced him that time is inalterable and loops back on itself, she reasoned. She recalled his distraught reaction at first seeing her Time-Turner. It clearly has something to do with me appearing here in this time. My presence here has confirmed something for him…or changed his mind about something, but what?

“All this time and it began with me.” He had said. “I hated you for so long, questioned your motives, but it was my doing all along…”

What could it mean?

Hermione was startled out of her thoughts by Beppy arriving with a dinner tray. He told her that he had been sworn to secrecy about her presence at the Shack (“by Headmaster, of course!”) and she should call out the elf’s name if she needed help with anything. She resolved to keep him in her back pocket for apparating to safety if called for.

After finishing supper and thanking Beppy for dinner, she decided to return to her book. Unfortunately, her thoughts often drifted to Snape and his not-at-all conventionally attractive appearance. His ink-black eyes that shone and rippled like darkened water when he was heated, his tight jaw and thin lips, his hawklike nose, his expressive and distinguished brows…

Hermione found herself lost in thought for quite some time…

That evening, it began.

She heard the wailing alarm from Hogsmeade Village, followed by shouts and commotion. After a bit, that quieted down, but now she was on the alert. It would be soon. Snape had said possibly hours.

Disillusionment wouldn’t be enough to hide her if she needed to be hidden.

Hermione walked up the stairs and found some wooden crates that could help. Slowly and methodically, she set up a barrier of wooden crates around her corner with the view of the tunnel entrance. After making her own hideaway, there were still a few crates left, so she decided to place a few in front of the tunnel entrance. It would delay anyone coming through from the Whomping Willow so she could have an extra few seconds to jump into place if needed. Hopefully, only friends would come from that way, she thought.

Who knows about that entrance? She thought back to third year in the Shack. Me, Ron, Harry, Lupin, Snape, Sirius is dead……shit, Pettigrew knows. She opted to cover that eventuality by connecting a Hair-Raising charm over the tunnel entrance into the Shack to her arm. There would be no audible noise alerting anyone else to an entrance through the tunnel, but Hermione would get a slight bristling, almost goosebump feeling running down her arm if the charm was tripped. Clearly, she should have done this before.

She set up some silencing charms and a Notice-Me-Not on the corner for good measure. Then, disillusioned and hiding in the corner behind the dusty wooden crates, she waited.

There were many sounds that night, most of them distant- bangs, flashes of light coming in through the slits in the boarded-up windows. She swore she even heard distant screams and she shuddered quite a few times, pulling out the sweater she had decided to transfigure into a blanket.

Is the battle coming here? Is that why I’m needed here? How far from me will the life I’m meant to save be?

Then, late into the evening, she was awoken by a loud whooshing noise and a crash.

Wand at the ready, she peeked out from behind her wall of crates and her heart sank to her stomach. Despite having never seen him in person before, she knew exactly who this was.

Holy crap, oh no no no.

Her mind didn’t allow out rational thought apart from expletives and panic. She began to break out in a cold sweat.

I can’t DO this.

“Ah my pet,” the tall figure whispered. He stretched out a long-fingered white hand towards the large serpent floating in midair, swirling around him in a glowing, protective orb. “Still yourself. Soon you will feast.” This was followed by a series of hisses back and forth between him and the snake as Hermione tried to still her frantic pulse, desperately praying to all the deities she had ever heard of that she wasn’t meant to put herself between Voldemort and another person on this quest to save a life.

Professor Dumbledore better not have had thoughts of saving Tom Riddle’s soul, she thought bitterly and with some concern. I am not using this Time-Turner to save Wizarding Hitler! Wizarding Stalin. Wizarding Pol Pot. Wizarding…

Interrupting her contemplation of 20^th century homicidal, genocidal dictators was the arrival of another figure. She knew this one immediately. The long silvery blond hair gave him away, even if the dishevelment and cracking voice was decidedly out of place.

“Lucius.”

“My lord.” Malfoy knelt before the taller wizard, clothed in black robes. The snake was swirling above them, seeming almost to play in his floating sphere. The slit-nosed man did not even glance at the kneeling one but had pulled out his wand and was holding it above him, twirling it and examining it closely in the light.

“Bring Severus to me.”

“My-my lord?” From the angle, Hermione could not see his face completely, but you could hear the questioning anxiety in his voice. “Will he-he not come when you summon-”

“Surely, Lucius,” the snake-like man hissed, “I would not make a purposeless request of your much valued time.” He raised his wand back behind him like a whip and Lucius jerked his head slightly, clearly flinching from the blow to come. The Dark Lord must have thought better of it, however, and merely smiled malevolently. “No. You must conserve your health as much as possible. After all,” his sickening smile widened, “we are almost at the end. I know what must be done about Potter and the wand.”

The wand, there’s something about wands. She remembered Harry describing what had happened in the graveyard at the end of fourth year during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. He said that his wand and You-Know-Who’s wand connected. Harry’s wand performed Priori Incantatem when the wands were linked. Does this give Harry some future advantage over You-Know-Who? I need to file this information away-

A quiet squeaking noise at the opposite corner of the room caught her attention. Lucius Malfoy had apparated away, apparently startling a rodent on the other side of the dirty floor. Despite trying to stop her mind from wandering to inconsequential thoughts, she realized that apparition must mean the wards on Hogwarts grounds had been changed or breached. The squeaking had also caught the attention of the tall, pale figure and the snake.

They hissed back and forth. Voldemort seemed to shrug, and a hole began to slowly form in the glowing, floating orb. The snake slid languidly out and made its way across the floor to the direction of the rat. The rat squealed loudly and dashed across the room, towards Hermione’s wall.

She watched helplessly, heart pounding, as the serpent struck. It pierced the rat’s body with its large fangs, and she heard a sickening crunch accompany the bite. At the quick lunge of the snake, she had flinched and turned her head, expecting the hunter to finish its meal, but it hissed violently and ejected the rat, spitting it out and ejecting it along the wall, a mere centimeters from her. She bit down hard on her tongue to prevent herself from crying out in fear and disgust.

“See, Nagini. It is diseased. Patience.” The snake hissed back and as it turned to go back to its master, its yellow eyes met hers.

Fuck!

The snake stared into her eyes, pausing its movement.

Was she caught in a trance or was the serpent? She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

Their eyes were locked on one another’s and she forced herself not to look away, not to blink, not to even think.

The snake slowly began to slither forward, inching towards the discarded prey and the potential new victim quavering behind it.

Oh, Gods no, Oh Gods no.

The great beast raised itself up, just as it had done seconds before striking the rat down. The yellow eyes narrowed, and the mouth opened. Voldemort’s serpent seemed to move in slow motion as Hermione Granger’s mind worked in rapid fire.

I can’t defend myself or You-Know-Who will see I’m here and then I’m even more dead- but I could apparate away I guess- but then I haven’t completed the mission and someone else would be dying because I couldn’t save them- but maybe this is meant to happen and- Oh no…maybe this is how I’m saving that life- and maybe I’m meant to die instead of someone else.

This is the end, I’ve failed. She braced herself. What about Harry? What about Ron?

She closed her eyes finally, not wanting to face the strike. What about Snape?

“Ah, Severus…” For one wild, frantic moment she believed that the dark dictator had heard her thoughts about Snape and answered them aloud. She flinched even with her eyes closed, still waiting for the blow to come.

The hissing sounded like spitting now and she felt the air in front of her face ripple with movement.

Hermione’s face was burning, her heart pounding loudly throughout her entire body and echoing in her ears. She finally opened her eyes.

The snake had returned to its master and the orb had sunk to the floor to allow it entrance, encompassing it once more in shimmering magic. Voldemort was speaking, but she couldn’t hear a thing. She had genuinely believed herself moments from death and this was not something that was quick to recover from. Hermione could face her death, to be sure. She was a Gryffindor after all. But to face it quietly, crouching in a corner? How difficult would it be to die unknown and unacknowledged like that, bleeding to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack with no one knowing or caring you were even gone? She shuddered.

Hermione continued to shiver. She had goosebumps tingling up and down her arms as the adrenaline regulated. How long for her heartbeat to slow down?

Wait, no! The Hair-Raising charm!

She peeked through the slits in the crates. Voldemort had been speaking to Snape, who must have arrived while she was recovering from her almost-death. The snake was swirling menacingly in the enchanted sphere, floating above and around them both. The dark wizard toyed with a wand in his long-fingered white hand as he spoke. Inches behind Snape was the entrance to the tunnel, obscured by another wall of crates. The tingling on Hermione’s arms indicated that someone was hiding there listening.

This complicates it, she thought. I have to be able to help heal the person hurt either without being seen…or if I’m seen then they have to believe I’m the future me. So, when Snape leaves, You-Know-Who will try to kill the person hiding behind the other crates and then I can-

The cold high voice broke through her musings. “You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant and I regret what must happen-”

Hermione watched in horror as Voldemort flicked the wand and the protective floating orb shifted over Snape and lowered onto his head and shoulders. A hiss and the great snake struck Snape, who cried out in pain and fell to the floor, bleeding profusely.

“I regret it.” He shrugged. Then the cruel Dark Lord swept away, flying out through a broken window in the shack and dragging his floating, snake-filled bubble away with him.

Hermione jumped to her feet, but before she could rush forward, she saw the crates at the tunnel entrance move. Harry, Ron, and herself rushed forward to Snape, bleeding and choking on the floor. She saw Harry bend over Snape, who grabbed at Harry’s robes and pulled him close while future-Hermione pulled items out of a bag she held.

Vials coming out- what are they giving him? He needs antivenin! Blood-replenisher, fluids… The Hermione hiding in the corner tried to rattle off everything she’d just learned while reading her mediwitch book while simultaneously paying attention to the scene before her. She did see that future-Hermione had put some cloth around Snape’s neck and shoulder to stop him from bleeding out so quickly. I hope that was laced with dittany or maybe antivenin…For goodness sake, Hermione why didn’t you communicate more about what I needed to do!?

She saw Snape’s grip slacken and his arms fall to the floor. His eyes lost focus and he stilled. The three friends in front of her slowly disappeared behind the crates and down the tunnel.

Not even waiting or caring if they had left yet, Hermione rushed out from behind the crates with her satchel bag, slid to her knees beside Snape, and began working frantically.

The bleeding had already stopped, as future-Hermione had wrapped the cloth tightly around Snape’s neck and shoulder area. Due to the lack of movement, she knew Snape must have started succumbing to the venom. She tried to shut off her emotions for right now. Otherwise, she might start crying and hugging him.

She checked his pulse on the uninjured side of his neck. Yes, weak, but still there. Low blood pressure, difficulty breathing, weakness and numbness in the face and limbs…

Hermione forced the blood replenisher down his throat, massaging his neck lightly to make sure it stayed down. It was so bizarre to care for him this way, this normally strong and powerful man. It made the situation all the more frightening to her.

She opened a vein in his arm with her wand and using Salimenti Tarda, she gave him fluids to help with the low blood pressure. Extra oxygen came with a modified bubblehead charm, and she was relieved to see him breathing, though still too few times for her comfort.

I don’t HAVE any antivenin and even if I did it needs to be made for the venom in THAT specific damn snake! If only there were a potions master who could help me out here! She looked down at her potions master then (hers, really?), his raven hair fallen around him, eyes closed now. And to think, he even fooled Voldemort this whole time. He must be the most intelligent man I have ever known……Prepared for every eventuality…. Wouldn’t he have thought of this?

And then, almost moving on instinct, Hermione began rifling through Snape’s pockets.

Of course, of course, you brilliant, brilliant man.

There was indeed a vial in his pocket marked “N. Antivenin” and the handwriting on the vial…No! Focus Hermione!

Quickly, she took the antivenin and spelled it to enter intravenously like the fluids had previously. As the vial slowly emptied into his body, Hermione knew there was nothing else to do but wait and hope that she had done everything correctly, quickly, and that his body was strong enough to endure.

“Beppy!”

A crack and the elf appeared before her. “Yes, Miss. What can I be doing- Oh MY HEADMASTER!”

“Beppy, it’s alright,” Hermione said, much calmer than she yet felt. “Professor Snape has been seriously injured. He’s gotten the treatment he needs for right now, but he needs to be kept safe and stable. He can’t stay at Hogwarts right now, can he?”

“No, not at all Miss. They is fighting. I must return and help the elflings leave…” The elf’s ears were pointed out harshly and she noticed he was carrying a frying pan in one hand and a meat mallet in the other.

“Yes, of course Beppy. I’m so sorry for calling you away. Please, is there somewhere you can take us where Professor Snape can rest and be safe from the fighting?”

“Yes, Miss. Beppy remembers when Headmaster needed some things-” The elf was interrupted by a bang not far away. This was followed by some distant shouting.

Hermione waited a few moments, listening, and the noises appeared to be getting closer. “NOW Beppy, please!” she cried. “We need to go now!” What if someone is coming back to look for him? What if there’s a death eater coming to check that he’s dead and finish him off?

Beppy shifted the meat mallet to be held inside the pan so that one hand was free. He placed a hand on Hermione’s knee as she quickly grabbed ahold of Snape’s hand. With a sharp crack, they apparated away.

Chapter Text

Hermione found herself falling and bouncing as she did so. She, Beppy, and Snape had hit a bed when they apparated, and they landed with a slight bounce, but not enough to dislodge them from the mattress. As she looked around at the king-sized four-poster and the darkened room, she couldn’t help but be glad for Beppy’s aim.

“Where are we, Beppy?”

“Headmaster’s home. Spinner’s End, Cokeworth.” Hermione looked around at the dark room. There was the outline of a wardrobe, a chair, and a small writing desk with a few books on it, and a fireplace with a hearth rug and high-backed armchair. She could see through an open curtain that they were on the second floor. A fireplace on the second floor? Perhaps the room is magically altered.

“I must return, miss.” Beppy gave no further instructions or explanation before disappearing again.

Hermione sighed and looked down at Snape, who she was still kneeling over. You’re safe now.

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Hermione slept on and off, not leaving his side and readministering blood and fluids at the appropriate intervals. Every time she looked at Snape now, her chest ached painfully. Dead and dying, her heart would groan, and the scene of him gushing blood and frozen stiff on the floor of the Shack would flash in her memory. After a few hours, he no longer needed the adapted bubblehead charm to help him breathe, though he was still very pale and showed no signs of stirring.

Hermione kept looking back through her Mediwitch guide for more information now that she knew the exact kind of injury she needed to treat. If the book was accurate, she did seem to have done a surprisingly good job at treatment on the fly. Future-Hermione had indeed pre-soaked the cloth around his neck in Essence of Dittany to help clean and seal the wound and minimize scarring. The redness and swelling on Snape’s neck were to be expected, especially at this stage, and she believed that he may well make a full recovery with continued monitoring and rest. This was a true relief to her, and it was so difficult to believe completely, partially because she wanted it so badly.

When they had arrived at the house, she had used her wand to undress him down to only his trousers, completely bare at the chest, in order to receive treatment. The torn and bloody black robes, frock coat, and white button-down shirt had been vanished, not worth the effort of mending in case there was any venom remaining on them. Hermione’s face had grown hot and flushed at seeing Snape’s bare chest, noting it to be wiry, lean, and strong. She had deliberately had to stop herself more than once from following the trail of small black hairs down his chest with her eyes. She had vacillated between being ashamed and embarrassed at her growing crush and his state of undress and between being decidedly blasé about it since she was apparently both his healer and his lover now. In the meantime, she had settled with pulling a thin sheet up over him and tucking it under his arms at the sides as a compromise to her warring thoughts.

Hermione had cared about him already before she had even traveled to the future, for she was a bleeding-heart Gryffindor who championed the underdog, Professor Snape included. But now, after having been held and kissed by him, she knew him capable of kindness and affection as well as intelligence, cunning, loyalty, and bravery. After having seen him nearly ripped to shreds by a venomous snake and left to die by Voldemort himself, the fluttering sensation at the top of her chest was no more. Now it was replaced with painful groaning, gong-like thuds, and occasional waves of nausea. It was not a crush any longer, but it couldn’t be anything more serious either. It couldn’t be love.

She couldn’t love him now. After all, she didn’t know him well enough. What did she know about him apart from what facets of his personality that he had felt a necessity to show to students or Order members? These noble qualities of his were there plainly on display for anyone who bothered to look but were nothing specially meant for her. Though, she thought wryly, Harry and Ron never seem to understand he’s even on our side. That is something I have realized myself, I suppose.  

Hermione had started to curiously wonder how it had started between her and Professor Snape. He was apparently comfortable enough now to push her up against a wall and snog her to oblivion…not that she minded. As she grew tired and restless keeping watch over his sleeping form, she slipped between wondering, daydreaming, and fantasizing about the possible scenarios. Would she be given an Order mission along with him? Would she ask for extra credit assignments or extra Defense lessons to spend more time with him? Would she get herself in trouble this year and earn repeat detentions with the stern Professor?

At that thought she flushed and turned to look at him again, his stern profile endeared to her now.

I can’t love him…not yet.

Hermione awoke with a start, sweating and gripping her wand tightly. She was in the fireside armchair, having pulled it up to the side of the bed to keep close to Snape. There hadn’t been any need to light the fire earlier as it was May and near to sweltering in the house. She had cast repeat cooling charms around the bed and the chair, but she realized the last set must have worn off in her sleep. Judging by the sky outside, it was now late afternoon, though they had arrived at night. Her head throbbed painfully. Bollocks. I was so busy taking care of him that I forgot to feed myself.

She heard something coming from what must be downstairs. This is what had woken her up, she realized.

“Hermione! I’m coming up the stairs now,” a voice called. “Don’t hex me, I’m unarmed!”

Hermione rose swiftly to her feet and made her way between the bed and the door, protecting her patient. She gritted her teeth as her head throbbed again and raised her wand determinedly, pointing it right at the door.

The knob turned slowly, and a hand cautiously came through the doorway first, palm up and forward to show it was empty. This was followed by the other hand that had been on the knob, similarly empty and entering ahead of its owner.

Upon seeing who it was, Hermione gasped and faltered.

“But- But you can’t be here,” she said, horrified. “It isn’t allowed.”

“None of this is allowed,” the figure said calmly. “And I’ve been here before.”

Hermione simply stared, gobstruck at her future self.

“Please,” Future-Hermione said softly. “Please lower your wand. I need to go to him.” She looked filthy. She was dirt worn, her hair frizzy, wild, untamed, and her clothes singed and frayed. Yet it was unmistakably her.

“You’re definitely…me.” Hermione said, wand still raised. It was supposed to have been a question, yet it lacked the inflection or the threat behind hearing the wrong answer.

“I knew you would be here. Who else would?”

Good point, she thought, but she didn’t lower her wand yet. “Where am I going after this?”

Future-Hermione broke into a genuine smile. “8^th of September, 1996. Detention with Severus…” Her eyes darted to the bed. “Now, please…”

Severus. Hermione lowered her wand hesitantly and let Future-Hermione stride past her. She took her younger counterpart’s seat in the armchair that was pulled up to the side of the bed. Scooting forward with the chair and leaning over, she reached down and took Snape’s hand in hers, entwining her fingers in his and raising their hands to kiss his knuckles tenderly. Future-Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she held Snape’s hand to her lips and silent tears fell seamlessly down her face. Past-Hermione watched helplessly as her future self clutched Snape’s hand, leaning her whole upper frame over the bed, and dissolving into silent shoulder-wracking sobs.

Hermione watched in awe for a few minutes, feeling like an intruder on this intimate moment, even though she would participate in it soon enough.

Future-Hermione pulled herself together enough to stop crying shortly after, at least enough to look up at her and gasp out, “I brought food. It’s downstairs in the kitchen.” That was enough for Hermione to turn and leave the room and give them some privacy.

After Hermione had eaten a little and had some water, she could care enough to notice what the rest of the house looked like. The bedroom must have been magically altered because it appeared homey, warm, and inviting, unlike the rest of the place. She was surprised at how derelict the house was. Peeling wallpaper covered the walls. The rooms were sparsely furnished with dusty, dirty pieces of ramshackle furniture that were old, stained, and cracked in numerous spots. She appreciated the wall-to-wall bookshelves in the main room, but they were dust-covered and the books appeared rarely used.

Peeking out through the kitchen window, Hermione could see that the street the house was on was similarly rundown, if quiet for now. The dilapidated houses she could see from the window reminded her of the descriptions of smoggy, dreary workhouse and mill towns in the 19th-century novels she would sometimes indulge in over the summers. Like a Dickens novel, she thought. No wonder he’s always in a bad mood. It must be depressing to live here.

Hermione returned to the room up the stairs where Future-Hermione and Snape were. Snape had still not awakened upon her return and Future-Hermione was gazing down at him and stroking his hair and face gently. She had been leaning in and whispering something to him when younger Hermione opened the door. Future-Hermione bit her lip and wrinkled her nose slightly in annoyance, but otherwise continued stroking Snape’s hair. She pulled back from him, however, not leaning in so much anymore.

“We should talk,” Hermione said from the doorway, still unsure how to handle speaking to her older (and probably wiser) self. “If there’s anything you can tell me.”

“Yes, there is.” Future-Hermione barely glanced up at her and continued to tenderly stroke Snape’s thin, dark hair between her fingers. “You can bring the other chair and come sit.”

Hermione retrieved the wooden chair from in front of the desk and pulled it around to the other side of the bed nearest to the desk before sitting. The two Hermiones faced each other across the bed, Snape lying between them, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Hermione wasn’t sure where to start. What am I allowed to know? Why didn’t she give me more information to begin with?

“Don’t worry,” Future-Hermione said. “Nothing has changed. I’ve been in your shoes before, so it definitely happens this way. Just give me a minute, I’m trying to remember how this conversation goes.”

Of all the things I’ve seen since getting my letter…this has to be the most bizarre.

“Tell me what you’ve figured out so far.” Future-Hermione finally said.

“What I’ve- I thought you could tell me some things. I’ve had to figure things out because of the lack of detail that’s been given to me.” I’ve just patched your man up and brought him here for you when you very well could have done it yourself instead of sending me to the future to do it. You were there in the Shack already.

Future-Hermione was trying hard not to look exasperated with…herself and failing. “It’s me, remember? I know what you’re thinking. I couldn’t give you more information in the note because of who else was going to be looking at it. Please just work through this with me. Saying it out loud is actually- it’s literally brainstorming.”

Hermione twisted a stray curl around her finger. “You want me to say what I’ve figured out about me and…” she gestured towards Snape on the bed with her other hand. Future-Hermione blushed furiously despite providing no evidence to a contrary truth with her fingers on Snape’s face. She gently pulled her hand back and kept it away from Snape for now. She seemed more embarrassed to admit the current romantic situation to her past questioning self than she did to actually participate in it.

“Sorry, no. Just the relevant Order information. What is Dumbledore going to ask you about or try to get from you when you return?”

“What, he doesn’t find out about this? No wonder…”

“Hermione!” Now that was bizarre. She was actually bossing herself around. The Hermiones were becoming two headbutting factions of the same personality.

“What I’ve figured out, right.” Hermione began rotely rattling off facts as if for a class. “Professor Snape is the Headmaster. I am not at Hogwarts this year and…neither are Harry and Ron. We’re all together. There’s…something very important about a wand, something that Voldemort has been having trouble with up until now. I think it has to do with Harry and Voldemort’s wands and how they connected at the end of fourth year…and-and…” She gulped, unsure of what to say about what had occurred for Future-Hermione. “The fighting…the war…” She faltered here and trailed off, fearing for the worst. She had heard the noises when she had been in the Shack. The culmination, as Snape had referred to it, had been happening for hours, almost an entire day by now. She looked toward her future counterpart, waiting to see if those had been the correct answers. I want to know what happens…but she definitely can’t tell me that.

Finally, after a great pause, Future-Hermione gave her a small smile. “We win.”

“…what?”

“We win.” She said it firmly, her eyes flashing. “It comes at a cost, of course. War always does.”

“You can’t tell me anything about what happens to me or Harry or Ron, can’t give me any detail about whose life I’m supposed to save or how, but you can tell me that?!” Hermione blabbered in shock. “Doesn’t that spoil everything? How can you give that away?!” The timeline, the ramifications! There’s no way I won’t get in trouble for this, right?

“Because,” Future-Hermione said, “you need hope. You need to know that we win.” She looked back at Snape lying on the bed and said softly, “He needs hope.”

“And Professor Dumbledore? You said he would want to know things, that he would ask me about what happened when I go back. What am I supposed to do, just keep this from him? Just not tell him that I met my-myself and I found out we defeated Voldemort?”

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.” Future-Hermione said calmly. “You can imply that you know we win, but you certainly won’t tell him about me.” She looked fierce, sitting there calmly discussing how not to break the timeline while covered in the dirt and grime of war and looking over her unconscious professor slash lover. As Ron would say, brilliant but scary.

“I don’t understand.”

“The note you got telling you to come forward to this time. You saw the handwriting; you know you wrote it. Tell me what that means.” Future-Hermione waited for Past-Hermione’s brain to click into place, her eyes narrowed impatiently.

Hermione hadn’t wanted to think about that part yet, especially after what she had just been through. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply and exhaled. Her wild curls bounced slightly as she tilted her head upwards. She spoke without opening her eyes, hoping there was another possible answer. “That there are more trips with the Time-Turner. I must have gone backward in time at some point to be able both to write the note and to give it to Professor Dumbledore before he gave it to me.”

“Yes.” Future-Hermione paused, waiting for Hermione to come to terms with the idea of more jumping around in time. “Unfortunately, Dumbledore will try to keep this information from you. He’s going to try to keep you from using the Time-Turner for another trip, which certainly can’t happen. I’m not really sure for his reasoning behind this, apart from the fact that he probably believes in alternate dimensions of time. He likely thinks that by not giving you the next assignment with the next date and time to travel to that you won’t go back at all…even though he knows that you already have.”

Hermione frowned and tried to make sense of this and remembered her discussion with Snape about time theory. “So…time is a loop, time is inalterable, but Dumbledore doesn’t know that?”

“More like…he doesn’t want to believe it.” Future-Hermione smiled grimly. “I understand the reasoning. If time is inalterable, then our mistakes are set in stone and there’s no way to truly change the past or the future.” Her smile softened and her eyes turned back to Snape on the bed. “There must be some unavoidable element of fate tied into our actions,” she mused in a whisper.

Hermione felt a wave of cold sweep over her. I had no choice to be a witch, the magic was just born in me. Now I have no choice but this future that has already been revealed to me? This future-past that I’ve just told myself about? Don’t I control anything I do?

“Then what’s the point?” Hermione said dully. “What’s the point of anything?”

“Really, Hermione? Nihilism?” Future-Hermione scoffed. “That reaction is why I haven’t told you very much.” She had noticed her distress, presumably having already experienced it. “There is something there that binds people to time. Call it fate, destiny, serendipity, I don’t know what. Perhaps it’s proof of the divine.” She shrugged, seemingly content not to question it for now. That doesn’t seem like me, Hermione thought bitterly. I have to understand.

“The point is,” Future-Hermione continued, “you shouldn’t be resentful of this element of fate. Let’s just call it the magical property of Time. It is like magic, after all. Unavoidable, certainly unexplainable in the minute sense, but its existence doesn’t mean that there isn’t choice involved in our actions.” She took Snape’s hand in hers, squeezing it and returning her eyes to stare determinedly across the bed at her past self. “That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. You choose this.” Future-Hermione said it so forcefully that there was no way it could be questioned.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. To be honest, she had already known that. She wouldn’t choose a relationship with Snape now, but she already wanted to choose it, hoped for it in the future.

Future-Hermione continued. “Dumbledore will try to stop you from getting the next assignment and…” her face darkened. “He will try to keep you from any choices that involve Severus.”

Hermione frowned, trying to keep up with the train of thought, her brow furrowing. “I thought you said he didn’t know about that.”

“I don’t know exactly what Severus has said to him about…us. Remember, Dumbledore at least hopes that time is changeable. Whatever Severus has said or implied to him, Dumbledore hopes that he can change your behavior and prevent that reality.”

“So…what am I supposed to do about that?”

“You’re going to have to pretend that you know a lot more about the future than you do. Dumbledore wants that information, and he will give you what you want, the other mission with the Time-Turner, in order to have it.”

“Wait, I’m really having trouble following this.” She waved her hands impatiently as she spoke. Hermione was growing increasingly frustrated at not understanding all aspects of the conversation. She had been long-suffering enough in the last 48 hours after being bombarded with revelation after revelation. Going forward in time, snogging her professor, nearly getting killed by that damn snake, then saving her future lover’s life…and Future-Hermione can’t even explain things properly? “Firstly, why can’t YOU just give me the other date and time for me to travel to with the Time-Turner? Why go through all this trouble to get it from Professor Dumbledore if time is a loop since you’ve already been there, know when it is, and know what I’m supposed to do? Secondly, why would Professor Dumbledore care what happens in the future- this future- if he believes he can change it to something else anyway? Thirdly, and most importantly, why can’t you just tell me everything I need to know instead of having me bluff and pretend I know more than I do?” There’s more! Why didn’t Professor Dumbledore use this fancy time-turner to do a hell of a lot more things with it than sending me here to get lectured?! Gods, I really am a stuck-up know-it-all!

Future-Hermione laughed, and Past-Hermione could have screamed in frustration if she hadn’t bit down hard on her lip. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just really funny seeing it from this side and knowing everything that happens later.” She calmed down before continuing. “The reason that I can’t give you the other date and time is……I won’t say that the reason is because it’s already happened that way but be forewarned that it does come up quite a few times when the only explanation is, ‘It already happened that way’. So, another reason that I can’t do it is because we need Dumbledore on our side, even if it’s reluctantly, especially for Severus’ sake. As to your second point, Dumbledore certainly cares what happens in the future, but he won’t try to change it if it is already taking the course that he has been planning for it. That is why he’s letting you use the Time-Turner now and he’ll let you use it again later. It’s another reason you can use your knowledge to ensure he keeps his promise.”

“Keeps his promise?”

“Yes. When you gave him the notes you spoke to him about it then. He’s already given his word that he would allow you to take the other mission, the one backward in time, but I think when he saw that you were going forward first, he thought he could play dirty. He thought he could get you to go forward, fix the future to his liking and then deny you traveling to the past,” Future-Hermione said bitterly.

Professor Dumbledore would go back on his word? “What, I can’t trust him?”

“No.” Future-Hermione was firm on this. “You can only trust Severus. And only after your other mission. Definitely don’t tell him anything before that.”

“So…let me get this straight. I’m supposed to use what little knowledge I’ve learned about the future to pretend that I know everything that happens…in order to get Professor Dumbledore to trust me enough to keep using the Time-Turner?” Future-Hermione nodded. Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she continued. “You never answered my last point. Why can’t you just tell me what happens so that I don’t make any mistakes in pretending to know the future?”

“Because,” Future-Hermione said slowly, appearing to choose her words carefully. “If you knew every piece of Dumbledore’s plan, you would never cooperate with him.” She looked quietly furious as she spoke. “If you don’t cooperate with him, he won’t trust you enough to let you use the Time-Turner to travel back-”

“But time is looped! I can do whatever the bloody hell I want, and it will just loop back on itself!” Hermione cried out.

“No.”

“NO? Is that all you have to say?”

“Gods, Hermione, do you think I’m an idiot? That you’re an idiot? I’ve had this exact conversation before from your end. I know you’re pissed at me, but I really don’t care.” Future-Hermione sighed deeply and slumped back in the armchair. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at seeing her own exhaustion. She really was just hurting herself. “Look, I meant what I said about not being resentful. You still have free will. It’s not you or your choices that don’t matter, it’s just that time…time doesn’t allow for inconsistencies. Think of it this way,” she continued, leaning forward again, clearly interested enough by the subject to seamlessly transition into full Hermione lecture mode. “You are a being that exists inside of time. Time has different properties, one of which is this magical one that means it loops in on itself and disallows for any contradiction between past, present, and future. This property of time has nothing to do with you or anyone else. A Hermione will always be a Hermione, no matter what time does, just like a banana could never be an elephant if it tried.”

I don’t know. There’s a spell for that. There’s a spell to make a Hermione not a Hermione too, Past-Hermione thought grumpily. But she didn’t argue further.

Future-Hermione kept speaking, knowing Hermione hadn’t quite been convinced yet. “You will always act the way that you intend to act, regardless of whether that intention carries over through time. Time does not prevent you from doing anything; you always do what you wish to do. Your hand is never forced.”

 “Then…people can never change? Intention can never change?”

Future-Hermione smiled genuinely at this, her smile reaching her eyes. She lovingly stroked Snape’s hand with her thumb and turned to gaze at him as she spoke. “Only people who can change…do change. Time does not alter our natures, our souls. If people have it in their nature to change their intentions, then they will. Ramifications of our actions are long-reaching across time, but if we have it in our nature to adjust who we are personally, then we can.” Future-Hermione paused for a few beats, trying her best to sum up her points in a more succinct way. “You can’t go against yourself, against who you are, no matter what. That should be comforting rather than horrifying.”

Hermione just nodded, knowing she would have to replay this conversation over in her head many times and analyze it. She remembered the leatherbound journal and vowed to color code some notes in it about this time theory. Time…philosophy. “Is there anything else I need to know?” Nothing else that will mess with my psyche, I hope.

“Genealogy. I know it sounds strange, but just write to mum and ask about your family history. You’ll understand later.”

Hermione nodded bleakly. The exhaustion had started to seep into her future self and was spreading across the bed like a wave. She realized she had been utterly selfish to have this conversation and push an argument about it when Future-Hermione must have just come from battle and not even bathed. Hermione looked down at her own appearance. Her attire contained Snape’s dried blood, her own dried sweat, matted strands of hair, dust from the Shack or from this house…

Hermione stood, raised her wand, and cast a quick cleansing charm on herself. She hesitated for a split second before repeating the charm on her future self. Future-Hermione gave a quick nod in thanks that reminded Hermione of Snape’s slight inclination of the head she had seen him make before. We must have spent some time together for me to pick that up.

“You should go,” Future-Hermione said. “Don’t worry about Severus. I have a healer coming in a few hours.” She rose, gently placing Snape’s hand down on the bed and walking over to herself. Hermione stiffened as Future-Hermione came over to her and hugged her. It was comforting, albeit strange. She relaxed slightly into her own arms, finally hugging herself back.

“How do I get back?” She said quietly after the hug ended and the women slowly pulled away from each other.

“Beppy!” Future-Hermione called out.

There was a crack and the familiar house-elf appeared. The frying pan and the meat mallet were gone. Hermione noticed guiltily that there was a long tear down the middle of the elf’s right ear. The tear was bright red and raised, clearly in the process of healing.

“Oh, Beppy.” Future-Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry. You should go rest.”

“Oh no, Miss! Beppy has served Hogwarts greatly! Beppy’s heart is full. This is another task for Hogwarts, Miss?”

She hesitated for a moment but must have decided this was important enough to ask. “Yes. She,” Future-Hermione gestured to the past version of herself, “needs to be apparated back to the Shrieking Shack. I would do it myself, but I’m pretty drained at the moment, and I know house-elf magic doesn’t drain with apparition.” Beppy smiled and nodded, glad to be of service again. “However,” Future-Hermione continued sternly, “please go get some rest right after you help with this. That is also a task that serves Hogwarts.”

Beppy nodded again.

Future-Hermione tossed the satchel bag to her past self and as that Hermione caught it, Beppy touched her leg with his hand and apparated them both away to the Shack.

Chapter Text

Hermione found herself back in the Shack again, Beppy having disapparated immediately after dropping her off.

The late afternoon sun was barely visible through the boarded-up slat windows, even the gaping hole in the wall that Voldemort had flown through not illuminating much of the room. Snape’s blood shone in a large puddle on the floor, not yet dry but still shiny, congealed, and sticky.

Why am I back here? Hermione thought. Do I need to do anything else before I leave? Is that why Future-Me said I needed to come back?

She scanned the room once more.

Hermione felt herself moving forward and reaching into her satchel bag, almost on instinct. She had felt the same sensation when she rifled through Snape’s pockets for the vial of antivenin the previous evening. It was not that she hadn’t had control of herself then, her own actions or decisions. It was her own idea. She had followed her own train of thought, knowing that Snape may have found a preventative solution to being poisoned with Nagini’s venom. It was her own idea to look in his pockets, only…

“…be forewarned that it does come up quite a few times when the only explanation is, ‘It already happened that way’.”

That’s how it felt now, as if it had already happened this way, and Hermione’s actions now were just following her own logical train of thought that had already happened somehow in the timeline. Hermione slowly walked to the other end of the ramshackle room and removed a plastic bag filled with unused gauze, tape, and other muggle medical supplies from her satchel bag. She dumped the materials out of the plastic bag and onto the dusty wooden floor, then used the bag to scoop up what she needed without touching it. She gingerly sealed the bag closed, then pulled the Time-Turner out from under her blouse by its chain.

She carefully turned the cogs.

08.09.1996

20:50:00

There. That gives me ten minutes to get to the Defense classroom for detention. It’s not much time to get there through the passage…but honestly…it’s better to be late than to run into myself on the way to the Headmaster’s office.

Then Hermione closed her eyes and spun the Time-Turner’s hourglass hanging around her neck as it clicked into place.

“Enter.”

He didn’t look up from the parchment on his desk, even as the door opened and a figure slipped inside before closing it. He continued with his spidery scrawl, dipping his quill in the black ink bottle to his right as needed. He heard her sit quietly and take out a few things from her bag.

He waited to speak until she had settled herself and begun writing for a few minutes, so as to better unnerve her.

“Is there a reason, Miss Granger,” he drawled without looking up from his writing, “that you are late to your conveniently scheduled alibi?”

“I- I’m sorry, sir?”

He almost smirked. Too easy.

“I was informed by the Headmaster that you were to have detention with me this evening.” He still had not looked up from his writing, conveniently hiding slightly behind the curtain of black hair tilted downward as he wrote. “The normal practice is for teachers to oversee their own detentions or else to pawn them off to those in charge of communal areas such as the grounds or the Hospital Wing. For detention to be assigned by the Headmaster himself and not to be the consequence of a serious offense…the kind that is gossiped about in the corridors by even the most out-of-the-loop first year is…” he paused here, to perfect effect as he raised one eyebrow, “…unusual, to say the least.”

Knowing he had given her enough time to turn red, he looked up at the girl and nearly faltered.

She was properly dressed in her full uniform, her bouncy brown hair was perfectly in place (in fact, it was better tamed than it usually was), and she looked well. Her eyes, however, and the expression on her face made her appear a few years older.

Experience that separated a youth from an adult.

She…it can’t be.

“Tell me, Miss Granger,” he whispered. “Why am I your alibi tonight?”

Hermione Granger appeared to have paused in her writing. She had a leatherbound notebook open in front of her on the desk, her hand holding a quill and paused in midair. She looked surprised, as he had meant her to, but she looked…something else.

Concerned...about my reaction. Not frightened, concerned.

Professor Snape sneered and stood, pushing back his chair from the desk. “Come. I will escort you to the Headmaster myself now that I have finished grading. You may pretend that you are being disciplined for this imagined grave offense and your whereabouts this evening will remain unquestioned.”

“NO!” She jumped out of her seat, forcefully, eyes wide with worry.

“Miss Granger…” he hissed threateningly, walking around to the front of the desk.

“We can’t go yet! Professor Dumbledore is…” she trailed off lamely. “He’s busy right now.” She fidgeted with her hands.

Snape kept his glare, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. “I see. Then you are in fact Professor Dumbledore’s alibi.” He paused for a little, leaning back to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, clearly still thinking it through.

Something has changed with her, but what? Albus swore he would tell me if…or when…But should I trust him to keep that promise? No, of course not. Not if it interferes with his chess strategy.

His black eyes narrowed, and his arms and shoulders tightened. “Or rather,” he hissed again, “you are my distraction, and the Headmaster does not wish for me to know what he is busy with.” He damn well better not be sending her back in time.

“I wouldn’t say that, sir.” She said quietly. “I think you are to be my escort to the Headmaster’s office once he is finished with his current appointment. He should be done by about 9:30 and we can leave then.”

“And why should I be needed to escort you to the Headmaster’s office?”

“Because he must want you to know…at least part of what I need to talk to him about.” She looked at him more confidently now, meeting his gaze appraisingly.

She can’t have…no. Not yet. She wouldn’t dare be this roundabout with me if she knew.

“Very well, Miss Granger.” He sneered again, leaning back against the desk with his arms still crossed over his chest. “I am all aquiver with anticipation.”

He left a pregnant pause between them, to further unsettle her.

“Sir,” she said, more tentatively now. “Can I ask you a question? Just something I’m curious about.”

“Haven’t you heard, Granger? Curiosity killed the cat.” He did not show it in his demeanor, but he held his breath waiting for her reply.

She bit her lip and looked away. “I…I promise it’s relevant to both Defense and Potions, sir.”

He softly exhaled and looked away. No, definitely not yet then.

“Yes?” He grumbled, not sure if he was more disappointed or relieved at her lack of reaction.

“Last year…Mr. Weasley was attacked by…a snake,” she whispered. After getting out her initial thoughts, she continued on quickly. “We were all very worried about him, of course, and I’m very glad he’s made a full recovery, but I was wondering just…how.” She looked up at him, gauging his approval. He had not shown any outward signs of annoyance yet, so she drove on. “He was bleeding a lot, I remember, and the healers were even considering using muggle methods to seal the wound…like stitches, but they were having trouble with the venom from that particular snake. I just wonder if you knew…If you knew how they finally solved it.” She finished somewhat lamely, looking at him questioningly.

“I believe that is a question for the St. Mungo’s staff.” He said icily before pausing and bringing a finger to his lips thoughtfully, remembering who the St. Mungo’s staff were. “The Smethwyck, Cook, and Pye families are constantly filling up the ranks of healers to spell us all back together. Galen Smethwyck took a few apprentices who graduated around the same time I did, so Professor Slughorn should remember who they were. Also, if I am not mistaken, Madam Pomfrey has some Pye cousins. She may have some insight.” He stopped his musing, removed his hand from his mouth, and remembered to glare down at her.

Don’t lose your touch because you’re curious yourself, Severus.

He reluctantly allowed her to return to her notebook to write while he waited impatiently for the appointed time to escort her to the Headmaster’s office. He reminded himself that he was not being kind so much as being accommodating in hopes that he would be permitted to hear whatever information she was tasked to relay.

Permitted. As if I am not trustworthy enough for him, even after all this time.

He chanced covert glances at her as she wrote furiously, soft brown curls bouncing around her head and bittersweet memories flooding back to him in waves.

No, stop that you fool. You have enough to worry about with Draco and…the damn thing you’ve actually been entrusted with.

He smirked to himself, thinking of the ‘test’ he had just given Hermione Granger.

Curiosity killed the cat indeed.

Professor Snape had mellowed somewhat as the Defense professor, despite the gruesome pictures he displayed in his classroom and the recent detention he had given Harry for losing his temper in class. As a teacher, he was ever passionate for his subject, as both her first Potions class and first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with him had begun with a descriptive introduction to the material, enticing her with his voice, if no one else. That was only as her teacher though, before any of the last few days had happened.

How can I look at him the same way again? She thought for the thousandth time. It was so hard to meet his eyes now, if it had ever been easy to begin with. Those deep pools of dark water.

After arriving in her pretend detention, which Snape had been sure to call her out on, she had written down as much as she could think of about the last few days in the leatherbound journal. She had tried to do so without thinking of the last time she had seen him, being nursed back to health and caressed and whispered to gently by…herself.

As she peeked surreptitiously at him from behind her curtain of hair, Hermione felt the familiar aching in her chest that had started in the derelict house on Spinner’s End in 1998. The aching and groaning gong had combined with the fluttering now and the sensation was both wonderful and awful at the same time. She felt elated, terrified, and in awe of him, as if she were standing at the edge of a great cliff, watching a storm-ridden sea crash against the rocks. Looking out on the beautiful and strong tableau, should she be afraid of the height, the sea, the fall? Should she admire the scene of dark beauty and power playing out before her?

She did not want to fall, and she was terrified of heights.

Yet that dark water ebbed and flowed in such an enticing way…

“Miss Granger! Ah, and you’ve brought Professor Snape! How lovely to see you both. Do sit down, won’t you?” Albus Dumbledore waved them into the office and towards the chairs in front of his large desk. He sat patiently at the desk, resting his elbows on the desk, and entwining his fingertips together, waiting for the report he knew would come. Hermione had hardly even noticed his blackened hand the last time she had seen it. Now it only made her inwardly revulsed and sick. It was reminiscent of death, and she had just seen someone die. Dead and dying, her heart groaned again.

“Professor.” She declined to sit, wondering how to proceed from here.

Bluff, Hermione. You’re playing poker with a card shark.

“You were successful in your mission, I expect?” She nodded, still trying to think of what to say and what not to say. She sensed Professor Snape stiffening behind her.

“I was, sir,” she said carefully, “but I think you already knew that.”

“Oh indeed, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore merely looked amusedly surprised. “And why is that?”

“Because we’ve already spoken about this before…” She looked up at him defiantly, ready for the hammer to come down. “…and this was only my first assignment, wasn’t it?” She whispered the last part, her eyes not leaving his blue ones.

Dumbledore removed his hands from the top of the desk and stood quietly. “Severus leave us. You may wait outside until I call you in.”

“Albus, I think I have the-”

“Not now, Severus!” The Headmaster almost roared. An aura of magic was radiating from him and Hermione didn’t think she had ever seen him this angry before.

You’ve prodded the lion. Tickled the sleeping dragon…

She felt Snape stalk out of the room, his robes billowing in his wake.

Dumbledore came to stand in front of her, the silence between them oppressive. Hermione tried to show that she was far braver than she felt.

Future-Hermione better be damn right about this…of course, why would I tell myself any different if it didn’t work?

“How?” His stern gaze met hers behind the half-moon spectacles.

“S-sir?”

“How do you know about our other conversation, Miss Granger? Have you returned from the date on the parchment that I gave you…or have you returned from another time entirely?” Right…because when I had this conversation with him it was past for him, but future for me. So no, that hasn’t happened for me yet.

“I went to May 1998 for a few days and came straight back,” she reassured him.

Professor Dumbledore visibly sighed, relaxing slightly. He continued to stare her down, however. “Then how do you know about the other parchment? The other mission?”

I can’t tell him about meeting myself, but how do I convince him I know what’s going to happen without telling him what’s going to happen? If I try talking and I can’t reveal the right things, then he’ll know it’s all a lie. Why can’t I trust him anyway? This makes no sense! If I can’t trust Dumbledore, how can I trust anyone?

And then it came to her, again, like instinct. The only explanation was that it must have already happened this way. She must have already had this thought or somehow already acted on it.

“Severus,” she whispered, looking up at him.

The headmaster’s eyes widened. “No.”

“He saw me. In 1998. That’s how I know. I know…everything.” Severus had confided in her. Future-Severus, that is. This explained her knowledge without actually giving too much away.

She hid her shock well when she saw Dumbledore retreat, almost stumble, back to the desk and numbly seat himself back in his chair behind it.

Hermione continued to speak as he listened, occasionally commenting. She would not tell an outright lie, but she also could not tell him exactly what had occurred. She settled for the most important truth and removed the item she needed from her satchel.

Severus Snape entered the room upon seeing the door swing magically open for him. Thank the gods. I would have worn a hole in the floor outside if I waited any longer.

“Severus,” the Headmaster addressed him quietly. “Miss Granger has just finished telling me about the mission she was sent on for the Order. You will be pleased to know that she was successful.” The Headmaster gestured to a plastic bag on top of his desk.

Severus walked over to the desk calmly, examining the contents of the bag. “A rat, Albus?”

“Miss Granger, if you would explain?”

“Yes, of course, sir.” She turned to look up at Snape. “I spoke to you earlier about the difficulty of healing someone who has suffered from a venomous snake bite. This rat contains the venom of…a particularly dangerous snake.”

Snape’s eyes widened and he whipped back around to the Headmaster. “You cannot be serious.”

“Perfectly, Severus. It would be wise to use this to develop an antidote, I think. It may become useful in the future.” He could have sworn he heard a muffled snort from the girl, but he ignored it.

“Albus,” Snape said menacingly, “you sent an underage student on an Order mission to follow the Dark Lord and his favorite pet? Simply to get a sample of its venom, which we know from experience to already be found in the Dai Llewellyn ward at St. Mungo’s?” His voice rose steadily as he spoke, finally yelling. “What if she had been seen? If she had been caught by the Dark Lord or any number of Death Eaters?!”

“It was necessary!” Hermione Granger cried out, her wild curls bouncing as she exclaimed. “It was a matter of life and death! Now we have the means to save- to save someone!” She flushed furiously, covering her stammer.

Ah, of course. His face grew hot with anger, as if he hadn’t already been furious. Potter. Potter again who is so important, so vital to risk everything for, her own life for. Always a Potter. I once believed it to be Potter the greater, now of course I know the truth and it is, has always been, Potter the lesser. Scratch that- neither is greater. They are similarly lowly and self-absorbed, yet they steal the affections of every woman I have ever loved.

Severus took out his wand and performed a freezing charm on the bag before picking it up. “I shall brew the antivenin this week.”

“Wonderful,” said the Headmaster quietly. “Miss Granger shall assist.” His blue eyes flashed. It was not up for discussion.

Severus sneered. “Delightful.”

“Please escort Miss Granger back to Gryffindor Tower, Severus. She is out past curfew, and we wouldn’t want any questions arising.”

“But Professor Dumbledore, sir…” Hermione hesitated, glancing sideways at Snape. “The other thing I spoke to you about…”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed. “I will consider it, Miss Granger. I have not yet made my decision as to whether you are ready for any additional assignments.”

Severus looked at her and saw she was biting her lip, not nervously, but angrily. He felt his own anger slowly subsiding at her frustration. Good, Albus is keeping his word. He won’t be sending her back any time soon and he’ll damn well warn me or tell me beforehand if he has to. He followed Hermione out of the office quietly after nodding a curt goodbye to the headmaster.

With any luck it won’t happen at all now, she won’t go back, the timeline will be altered entirely and…He sighed bitterly to himself…I’ll only have Albus’s murder on my hands to worry about.

Once back in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione snuck quietly up to her room, careful not to wake the other girls. After grabbing some pajamas from her trunk, she closed the curtains on her four-poster to get dressed and ready for sleep, placing a silencing charm on the curtains as she did so. She was wired still and opted to spend a few minutes writing in her leatherbound journal again.

Snape had wordlessly escorted her through the halls, stalking behind her all the way. He had told her to wait for his message to know which night to claim another detention to brew the antivenin. Then he sneered at her and billowed away like a bat.

If she hadn’t felt completely jittery in his presence before, she certainly did now. Since she had experienced Snape’s behavior towards her in 1998 and was able to compare it to his behavior towards her now, she knew what the difference in his mannerisms was. In the future, the nervous energy between them was bristling attraction. In the present, it was seething and resentful anger.

How the hell do we move on from here?

She shook her head and made a to-do list for the remainder of the week. After successfully editing her weekly study and class schedules with the things she had already planned to do pre-future trip (“practice nonverbal spells, research potential Half-Blood Prince origins, write to Tonks and ask if she needs anyone to talk to”), she turned to the leatherbound book and wrote concluding to-do points to sum up her journey.

1. Genealogy – Write to Mum and ask about family history. Casually bring up potential exit strategies they can use to go into hiding. Holiday in Australia? Stay with relatives on the Italian side?

2. Antivenin – Talk to M. Pomfrey or Prof. Slughorn about antivenin healing treatments. How was Mr. Weasley healed? Ask Ron again? Mrs. Weasley?

She scratched out the part about asking Ron or his mother. Ron probably wouldn’t remember the details, and Mrs. Weasley would either get suspicious and ask too many questions or cry at the bad memory. Probably a bit of both.

After pausing for a bit and sucking on the end of her quill, she wrote the last item down before she whispered a quick “Nox” and tried to sleep.

3. Find out everything you can about Severus Snape.

Chapter Text

Over the next week, Hermione tried to make progress on her additional research tasks while keeping up with her N.E.W.T. level coursework, but the second week of advanced courses and a full study schedule kept her busy. Harry and Ron did not appear to have noticed any changes in her behavior or personality, which she was glad of, and she herself tried to avoid thinking about her knowledge of the future.

Ron, she also tried to avoid thinking about.

Ron was still one of her best friends, and she still got butterflies in her stomach when he grinned at her, but the problem was that they were only butterflies. Whatever wild animal was stampeding around her chest when Snape passed in the hallways, when he glared down from the high table in the Great Hall, when she would steal furtive glimpses of him in Defense class…that animal ate butterflies for breakfast.

So, Ron Weasley was now associated with butterflies and guilt, and Hermione did her best to accommodate and feed the butterflies rather than the guilt. After all, she wasn’t promised to Snape at this point, whatever she had glimpsed of the future.

One of Hermione’s greatest weaknesses was the need for control. Even given what Future-Hermione had said about not feeling resentful about her choices or supposed lack of them, she hated this sense that she had lost control of the scenario and her raging hormones. Despite how passionately Snape had kissed and held her, she couldn’t help missing the idea of the sweet friendship-turned-love she had pictured with Ron. Ron didn’t hate her at any rate, at least not this week.

If Harry noticed any differences between Ron and Hermione, he said nothing, though he may have been distracted by schoolwork and recalling his trip through the Pensieve with Dumbledore. Harry had already had his first private lesson with Dumbledore just before Hermione had left and come back, but Hermione had not had much time to dwell on the bits of Tom Riddle’s history he had relayed. Hermione was simply hoping that her attempts at extorting the Headmaster for her next mission through time had not affected Harry’s relationship with him.

Professor Snape had not kept his word to brew the antivenin within the week, or at least, he had not involved Hermione if he had. She knew him to be busy with teaching classes, grading, and whatever Order or Death Eater business normally kept him occupied, so she wasn’t too concerned…yet. Additionally, Dumbledore had not been seen by the students since Hermione’s return meeting, so she presumed that Snape was waiting for Dumbledore to be on hand when any brewing took place. When Harry finally commented on the Headmaster’s absence on Saturday at breakfast, Hermione had suggested that it could be due to potential Order business. Hermione at least felt she could hint at this to her friends.

On the way down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the team tryouts, she witnessed Lavender Brown making eyes at Ron, and Ron loving the attention. He strutted down to the changing rooms with Harry as Hermione followed behind, glowering and feeling guilty again.

She should feel jealous, shouldn’t she? She would have felt jealous of Ron and Lavender flirting a week or two ago.

Even just last week during the first potions class of the year, Hermione had to stop herself from admitting in front of the entire class that the last wafting smell from the Amortentia smelled distinctly like Ron. Freshly mown grass, new parchment, and…mint. As the daughter of dentists, she could simply brush it off as spearmint toothpaste if she had tried to lie, but…Ron had started using a new tea tree oil and peppermint shampoo over the summer. It covered up his dank, sweaty smell that made her wrinkle her nose, and it did remind her of home.

Although, she thought worriedly, a freshly-showered Professor Snape smells like new parchment.

Later that morning, Hermione didn’t have any second thoughts about using the Confundus Charm on Cormac McLaggen so that Ron could best him in Quidditch tryouts. This helping hand would assuage the guilt, right? Afterward she peppered Ron with compliments on how magnificent and brilliant he had been for good measure, or at least just to help push the gonging sounds out of her chest that still resided after watching Snape in Defense class the day before.

After tryouts, the trio decided to visit Hagrid and console him, since he was a bit miffed that they had all dropped Care of Magical Creatures. After his initial gruffness, Hagrid had softened and jokingly mentioned the Time-Turners they would have needed to use in order to fit his class into their busy schedules. Hermione firmly reminded him, and the other two, that all the Time-Turners had been smashed last summer.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too mad at her if they ever found out about the other one in the Headmaster’s office. Professor Dumbledore had insisted she hand it back to him when she returned.

The following week was Hermione’s 17^th birthday. On the morning of the day itself, she eagerly opened the small package addressed from John and Helen Granger. She had checked off the item on her list about writing to her mum a few days prior, so she was doubly excited to read the letter enclosed.

Dear Hermione,

Happy 17^th Birthday to our sweet grown-up girl! It’s so hard to believe you are another year older already. Have classes been going well? We are happy to hear that you received top grades and were accepted into all the advanced courses you wanted (GECKOs, weren’t they?).

It’s so funny that you ask about family history because I (Mum here) have just been diving into genealogy study in my free time. As I’m sure you remember, Grandmum’s maiden name was Perri, and I have discovered that her family was from the Calabrian region of southern Italy. I think there must be some French blood on that side of the family too due to some of the given first and middle names, but I will update you on that when I learn more.

I have recently come across some family heirlooms from my mum’s side after poking through old albums and boxes, including one from my great-aunt Anna Hélène Perri (I’m named Helen after her, you see). She was your Grandmum’s godmother, you know, and as family stories have it, she was always a bit eccentric (though probably in the normal godmother way- wouldn’t bet on more than one witch in the family!). For your birthday, we thought you would appreciate this necklace from her. I know it’s blue and not a Gryffindor red, but sapphire is the September birthstone, and the H for Hélène could easily stand for Hermione. We would love you to wear this and think of your family. I know you have entered a new magical world, and you’re considered an adult witch now too, but that’s no reason to forget where you come from and the people who helped you get there.

Sending our love to you and hope to hear from you again soon!

Love,

Mum and Dad

Hermione grinned and shook her head at the confusion between N.E.W.T.s and G.E.C.K.O.s before dwelling on the rest of the letter’s contents. She gingerly opened the package and took out the sapphire necklace that had belonged to her great-great-aunt. It was a simple, circular sapphire pendant on a white-gold setting and chain, with a simple H inscribed on the back. The chain was long enough to fit well under her shirt, and actually reminded her of what it had been like to wear the Time-Turner.

Hermione looked back at the letter and read the postscript.

P.S. Hermione, we know you mentioned taking a long holiday trip soon, but we would hate to leave the practice for too long. We also don’t want to spoil the birthday wishes by dwelling on this, but it should probably be addressed.

This danger in the magical world is one we are completely out of our depths with. You said there is no war in your world yet, but you must let us know when the tide begins to turn. We know you don’t want to evacuate during the term, but it may become necessary. We love you so much, Hermione. Please keep yourself safe.  

The tide had already begun to turn, she knew. Hannah Abbot’s mother had been found dead the previous week and Hannah had not returned to classes.

That could be my parents, she thought. If I can’t convince them to leave…then I might have to make them leave.

Another week went by and Ron and Lavender continued to make eyes at one another. Hermione continued to get aggravated and feel guilty about how little she cared, giving the appearance to Harry and a few others that she cared very much.

Hermione still had not heard from Professor Snape about brewing the antivenin. Harry had begun to gripe about not seeing Dumbledore for his private lessons for a while, so she figured this was still the reason that brewing had been put off yet again.

Still, it needs to be done, she thought. I suppose I’ll just have to bring it up with him after class.

This prospect was daunting, however, so she avoided it by moving on to the next item on her list: asking about antivenin healing.

Hermione used the next Slug Club evening get-together to try to breach the subject with Professor Slughorn while simultaneously avoiding Cormac McLaggen. That night, McLaggen had been constantly looking Hermione up and down and trying to chat her up when he wasn’t going on about his Uncle Tiberius and the Minister’s latest outing together.

Once she had asked Professor Slughorn about how antivenin is used in healing wounds along with blood replenisher and fluid replacement, Slughorn confessed he was adept at brewing, but unfamiliar with much of applicable potions treatments. Now she was caught, however, and she had to listen to the inquiry.

“You’re interested in healing, you say, my dear girl? I know quite a few healers, taught them myself! Potions is one of the N.E.W.T.s required for a healing apprenticeship you know. Let’s see, there’s Galen and Hippocrates Smethwyck, the father-son duo. They’re related to the inventor of the Cushioning Charm, you know, and I taught Hippocrates myself. Then I taught a number of Cook and Pye students- Augustus, Octavian, and Domnina are the ones I recall specifically who still work at St. Mungo’s. Say,” he paused, interrupted from his name dropping momentarily, “are you related to the Cooks? I remember a very pretty brunette with your coloring attending a number of years ago.”

“No sir,” she replied patiently, knowing she would have to repeat this same conversation a few more times. “And not Hector Dagworth-Granger either. I’m a muggle-born.” He had already forgotten this, despite asking her previously. She suspected that it was only the great Harry Potter’s praise of her abilities that kept her in Slughorn’s good graces.

“No? There was another one too, Pastor? Perkins? Ah, that’s alright my dear, too many talented students to remember sometimes…”

I doubt that’s true, she thought a bit unkindly. You remember the ones you want to remember.

“…but we do have some descendants from that period here now! Why, Lily Evans was always such a dab hand at potions, and now Mr. Potter is following in his mother’s footsteps! She and Professor Snape- he wasn’t always Professor Snape, of course- why they were bench partners for several years in my classroom. Played off each other splendidly, always trying to outdo the other for the top marks…That fizzled off at the end of course, for the same reason as it usually does.”

“Oh, sir?” She had never heard this before, but if Snape was at Hogwarts the same time as the Marauders, then Harry’s mum would have been there too.

“Young love, Miss Granger! No, don’t give me that look, not Professor Snape and Miss Evans. No, no, no, we all know how that story ends- with our Mr. Potter here now. No, Professor Snape fancied the Cook girl, or was it the Perkins girl…” Slughorn trailed off, silent for a moment before smiling good-naturedly and shrugging. “I can’t recall, but I’ll have to ask Severus next time I see him… Speaking of Miss Evans and Mr. Potter, where is the young man this evening? I suppose he’s off making the name for himself, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and all!”

Hermione made excuses for Harry, as she tried to sneak away politely. Well, Slughorn was a no-go, so maybe she could find the time to ask Madam Pomfrey?

She went to bed that early that night, determined not to think about what she had learned.

Determined not to dwell on Lavender Brown’s simpering giggles and goo-goo eyes at Ron.

Especially determined not to think that even Lavender had not made her grit her teeth like the idea of a very pretty brunette named Miss Cook or Miss Perkins.

A few more weeks went by and Hermione was determined to approach Professor Snape and tell him to get on with brewing the antivenin.

The opportunity came Saturday morning of the first Hogsmeade weekend. She had just finished berating Harry and Ron for fooling around with spells from the annotated copy of Advanced Potion Making when Harry had gotten a missive to appear for another private lesson with Dumbledore.

Perfect, she thought. It means the Headmaster is back in the castle and Snape will have to brew with me.

This was what she thought before the Hogsmeade visit, however.

After skirting around Professor Slughorn’s invitation to the next Slug Club evening at Honeydukes, the trio had meant to share butterbeers and a quiet lunch. This was before Harry had caught Mundungus Fletcher pawning off his dead godfather’s stolen goods and he caused a scene outside The Three Broomsticks. Harry had shoved Mundungus into the wall and threatened him angrily. Tonks arrived unexpectedly, but fortuitously enough to calm Harry down and diffuse the situation.

When Harry had been soothed, he and Ron entered the Three Broomsticks. Hermione whispered a quick greeting to Tonks and asked if she had gotten the letter Hermione had sent.

Tonks nodded sadly, still sporting her brown, mousy hair. “Thanks for the offer to talk, Hermione, but I don’t think it’ll help much. That is, unless…” Tonks’ eyes widened, and the ends of her hair turned slightly auburn. “Do you think you could talk to Remus, for me? Put in a good word? I know you’re close with him. He asks about you about as much as he asks about Harry.”

Hermione frowned, confused. Well, she had spoken to Remus Lupin a little bit that summer when he came to supper at The Burrow. They had just talked a little bit about her O.W.L. results, especially her disappointing “E” in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had been kind and encouraging about the less than perfect result and they’d discussed Prefect duties and responsibilities after he had mentioned his own history as a Prefect…but this had hardly been an in-depth conversation. Certainly not enough to mistake them for being “close”. Perhaps he felt responsible for the trio since the incident in third year?

“I- I’ll write to him, Tonks. What do you mean about the good word?” If she were feeling guilty about her cousin Sirius Black’s death, surely Lupin wouldn’t be making it worse for her?

At this Tonks paled, shook her head vigorously and her ends became mousy brown again. “Nevermind, Hermione. I’ll see you later.”

Hermione hadn’t even had time to dwell on the odd conversation. Harry was in a foul mood and dwelling on Sirius, so they had headed right back to the castle after downing the butterbeers. On the way, they had seen Katie Bell and her friend arguing and then…

Well, witnessing Katie’s possession by a cursed necklace would be enough to make anyone forget items on their to-do list.

Monday was Harry’s next private lesson with Professor Dumbledore, so he had already been able to gracefully bow out of the Slug Club meeting taking that evening. Hermione had heard a rumour there would be a famous personality and former student of Slughorn’s visiting, but if she had to skive off in order to brew the antivenin with Snape, she would do it.

Hermione stayed behind after Defense Class on Monday afternoon, telling Harry and Ron that she had a question for Professor Snape. She wanted to know how to accurately sync wand movements with nonverbal spells if the brain’s reaction time was faster than the mouth’s speaking time. It wasn’t a lie; it was a valid question she had, but she would save it for later.

Professor Snape looked up at her as the door closed, leaving them alone in the classroom.

He said nothing, simply looking at her without the usual annoyed malice and waiting for her to speak. She guessed he knew why she was there, but he wasn’t about to make her any more comfortable.

“Professor Snape,” Hermione began, sounding more confident than she felt. “Professor Dumbledore is here today.” Then her chest started gonging and groaning at the proximity to him and she lost her nerve. “Would- would this make it…that is…”

“Spit it out, girl.”

“The antivenin needs to be brewed.” She flushed and her eyes narrowed at his interruption. “I think it makes sense to do it tonight if you’ve been waiting for him to be in the castle. It’s been weeks since you’ve gotten the sample-”

“Tonight does not work for me.”

Hermione opened her mouth angrily to protest but stopped at the look on his face.

He was not trying to aggravate her or bait her, he simply looked too exhausted to hear her out. Drained. It was strange that she could even tell, as there was no change to his face, stance, or demeanor.

His eyes, she realized. They’re soft. The water is still and gentle.

“It has been…a trying weekend.” He said quietly, his eyes looking away. “I was called upon to stabilize Miss Bell before her transfer to St. Mungo’s.” He swallowed, his eyes returning to Hermione. “Now the Headmaster is back in the castle, as you have said, so he has been informed of Miss Bell’s hospitalization and the event proceeding it. As such…tonight will not work for me.”

Oh, I’m such an idiot. He needs to go report everything to Voldemort. Katie’s condition, Dumbledore’s reaction. If Voldemort was behind this, he will want to know how it went.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling drained herself. “I’m sorry, Professor.” Her heart groaned painfully again at the thought of him reporting to the long-fingered monster she had glimpsed in the Shack.

She opened her eyes after a moment to compose herself, meeting his gaze fiercely. “Let me help. We can start brewing and… I can finish alone if you have… pressing business.” She tried to keep the longing out of her eyes. She so wanted to be useful to him.

His eyes widened and he smirked slightly at her phrase, but with his softened eyes it came out more like a sad little half-smile.

“I think not, Miss Granger. After all, what would you do with no alibi tonight?” He raised one eyebrow as he kept his small smirk, which caused her face to flush and burn. That look. She hoped she wasn’t turning completely red. “Are you expected anywhere?”

She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose and give an annoyed scowl at the thought of something keeping her from seeing him. “Yes sir. Professor Slughorn’s office.”

“Ah yes, he always had an affinity for…teacher’s pets.” His black eyes rippled. Last year, even early last month she would have been furious at this remark, but now…

He’s teasing me.

“Oh yes, sir. He did mention you were one of his students last time we spoke.”

Snape scowled and turned his head away slightly, black hair swinging, but she knew what to look for. She saw the upturned corner of his mouth and knew he was amused and trying to hide it. Maybe he’s only pretending to hate me.

She couldn’t help but beam back at him. He sobered quickly at seeing her smile, returning to his cold façade.

“Later this week, Miss Granger. I will find the time.”

“Thank you, Professor. I’ll hold you to that.”

I am too tired for this, too tired to ignore her anymore. Even the uniform doesn’t help, it just makes me remember.

What is she on about, these Order missions she needs to fulfill?

So determined to please. These assignments are just another project; another essay that exceeds the length requirements.

She gets off on it. It thrills her, the accomplishment.

Look at her, she’s stammering and shaking with anticipation. A set of perfect O marks would cause another ‘O’ for her, wouldn’t they?

Damn it Severus, don’t think about it. This Mata Hari has played you already, don’t fall into her clutches again. What kind of score would she receive for her assignment of ensnaring you? Damn it all, top marks.

What did she say? “I can finish alone if you have pressing business?”

Fuck. Don’t think about her finishing alone.

Your pressing business.

Do anything. Tell her she’d do anything for attention. Yes, teacher’s pet.

Oh gods, now she’s playing coy.

That flirt. That smile. Those lips.

The minx.

I despise her.

Chapter Text

The next morning on the way to the Herbology greenhouse, Harry relayed what he had learned in his meeting with Dumbledore about Tom Riddle’s childhood in the orphanage. That was no surprise, actually. A young Voldemort stole from other children and hurt animals, believing himself special and privileged?

“We could have guessed that,” Hermione said knowingly.

“Yes, but it gives some insight into who he is and why,” Harry said. Hermione thought this was very astute of him. Apparently, the lessons were working, and Harry himself was maturing to notice this point. “But get this, Snape had to go heal Katie this weekend and reverse the effects of her curse. Dumbledore said it’s because he knows more about the dark arts than Madam Pomfrey, but…What if he could heal her because he knows about what the curse is in the necklace? What if Snape is in on this whole thing with Malfoy?”

Ron and Hermione groaned and looked at each other. They had just spent the weekend talking Harry down from Malfoy being involved with the cursed necklace and even Professor McGonagall had vouched for the Slytherin having not been in Hogsmeade at the time.

The groan and knowing looks helped Ron’s case for the butterflies in Hermione’s chest. Ron is maturing too.

“What? It makes sense! You said that Vol- sorry, You-Know-Who- wouldn’t allow a 16-year-old to take the Dark Mark, but… What if Malfoy has a superior? You know, someone to report to if he sways from the crooked path? Like a handler! Snape would be the man for the job since he’s right here to guide him all the time.”

Hermione pursed her lips and tried to redirect Harry towards the Snargaluff stumps they were supposed to be working on.

Harry’s fixation on Malfoy needed to end. It wasn’t proven he was a Death Eater at all. Professor Snape being a Death Eater mentor to any younger recruits did make some sense, however. If it were true, that Snape knew about the necklace, then it could hardly bode well for him with either Dumbledore or Voldemort. The cursed necklace had obviously been meant to reach a different target.

She thought again about the reason Snape wasn’t available last night for brewing. I hope he’s alright.

Ron did a nice job of redirecting the conversation and asked for more details of Dumbledore’s lesson. It wasn’t long before Harry got bored with that topic and questioned Hermione about Slughorn’s get-together the night before. Gwenog Jones of the Holyhead Harpies was the celebrity guest, she relayed. While Ron was jealously impressed at first, the topic then turned to the Slug Club Christmas party, and Ron became just jealous.

After hearing yet again about the elite club having another fancy party that he was not invited to, Ron sneered and told Hermione she should go to the party with that braggart McLaggen as her plus one, so all the Slug’s favorites could be together. Furiously, Hermione turned red and blurted out that she had been going to ask Ron to go with her. If only he hadn’t been so rude as to say she should “hook up with McLaggen”, she might have. Ron mumbled back that he certainly didn’t want her going with McLaggen at all.

It was obvious to the trio what had just happened by this admission.

The back-and-forth embarrassed Harry and they were all still in the middle of class and juicing Snargaluff pods, so it was a bit awkward; however, Ron ended the lesson looking sheepish and somewhat pleased with himself and Hermione was nervous and flustered.

Really, Hermione didn’t know how to feel. Pleased? Guilty? Wishing somehow Snape would ask her to the party when he saw her later that week? That was impossible.

Stupid Slug Club, she thought. I wonder how Severus fared last night.

And just like that, she knew she felt very guilty. She had started thinking of Professor Snape as Severus in her head.

The first Quidditch match of the season was that coming Saturday. Harry had scheduled long practices every remaining night that week as it was the first match, against Slytherin, and Katie Bell was being temporarily replaced by Dean Thomas, who would need extra practice.

Hermione had received a note from Professor Snape, who must have known that Gryffindor had booked the pitch the following few nights. They would brew both that Thursday and Friday evening, 6 to 9. Enough time to eat dinner and abscond for the evening while her friends were at practice, but not so late that anyone would question her about her whereabouts.

Hermione was doing homework and talking with Harry, Ron, and Ginny in the common room on Wednesday evening after the Gryffindor team practiced. She had to get through quite a bit of schoolwork since she wouldn’t have time to work on it for the next two nights. After some halfhearted greetings and recalls about the practice, Hermione waved the boys up to bed, telling them she wanted to stay up and write essays for a little longer. Sweaty and exhausted from flying, they complied easily and skulked up the stairs.

Ginny gave a few furtive glances to check that the rest of the common room was empty before speaking. “How are you doing, Hermione?”

“Oh, erm… fine.”

“Really? You seem different, like your mind is always on something. You’ve been daydreaming as much as Luna lately.”

“Just preoccupied with classes, I suppose.”

“Hermione.” Ginny looked at her skeptically. “Fine, I’ll spill first. Harry and Ron caught Dean and I snogging behind the tapestry last night. Ron was a right little toerag about it and I told him he just needed some snogging in his life, clearly.”

“You did not!” Hermione gasped, but simultaneously choked back a laugh. “That can’t have gone well.”

“What do you expect of my brother?” Ginny grinned cheekily at her. “I’m sorry, I probably didn’t help anything since I mentioned that Harry snogged Cho and you snogged Viktor, so he was behind on the game.” Hermione winced. “He was a bit upset for my reputation, apparently, which honestly just pissed me off. I’m not a slag, which is surely what he was thinking. I know I’ve done some dating, but it’s only gone as far as snogging. It’s just been snogging to see…well, you know…” Ginny trailed off nervously.

“I know, Ginny. How did Harry react?”

“I don’t really know! He just stood there, like he was frozen. It was a little embarrassing being caught and Ron seeing too, which is why I guess I yelled back that Ron needed more experience.”

“Oh, Ginny.”

“Do you think he’ll hate me forever?”

Hermione frowned. “We…aren’t talking about Ron anymore, are we?”

“No.” The redhead sighed morosely. “Harry.”

“Ginny, I think…Don’t you think the advice I gave you is working? You’ve dated a bit, learned about what you wanted in a relationship, and you aren’t so skittish around Harry any longer. He can talk to you now and get to know you, so… I certainly don’t think he hates you. I absolutely won’t let Ron convince him you’re a slag.”

“I know it sounds terrible that I’m even thinking of Harry right now. I care about Dean, I really do. He’s just…” Ginny closed her eyes and sighed again. “He’s like Ron is for you.”

“What?”

“Like, I’m hoping things will grow, but… I’m trying to get over someone else, you know. I’m still trying to get over Harry.”

“Ginny, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The redhead looked at her skeptically again. “Which part?”

“There’s…” Hermione flushed red. “There’s nothing with Ron and I.”

“There could be if you wanted to. You know that.” Ginny met her eyes now. “The only question is, who is Ron helping you get over?”

Hermione had nothing to say.

The next night, Hermione met Professor Snape in the Dungeon hallway outside the Potions classroom. He led her inside the classroom and through a side door to the right and behind of the teacher’s desk.

“This is where we will be brewing the antivenin.”

“Here?” This must be the private potions laboratory.

“Is there a problem, Miss Granger?”

“It’s… It’s a closet.”

While certainly appropriate for a single brewer, it was hardly adequate for two. It was the size of a long walk-in closet with a table at standing height, pushed up against the wall, running along one side of the room’s length. There was a small deep sink at the back of the room. Long wooden shelving filled with ingredients in jars and vials lined the wall above the table. The room itself could not have been more than 2 meters wide and she wondered about Professor Snape’s wingspan. He could perhaps touch a hand to each wall.

“It will do.”

“Is there a reason we can’t just use the classroom, sir?” She thought she would faint at the palpitations she was having. The idea of being confined with her Professor in this small space, all while half-wishing he would brush past her repeatedly and perhaps push her up against walls or surfaces, was as frightening as it was exhilarating.

“We shouldn’t let anyone know what we are up to, Miss Granger. This is my own private laboratory, and I am the one who designates its use. Professor Slughorn has access to the Potions classroom and uses it after hours on occasion. I could hardly deny him access, as that would only pique his curiosity.” He smirked at her dangerously. “Now I could ward the door to the classroom and physically prevent him from entering, but I think the implications of doing so would just inflame his suspicion.”

“Why is that sir?”

He didn’t answer her for a few beats.

Then he replied quietly in a slow drawl, “Come Granger, you can’t be as innocent as that. Surely you realize what is implied by a man and woman locking and warding the door.” This was followed by a scowl. “Especially an aging professor and a young nubile student.”

He swept into the tiny laboratory as she flushed furiously and tried to get her heart rate under control.

Snape began preparing the workspace, taking jars of ingredients down from the shelves and placing a silver cauldron in the center of the table. He motioned Hermione in, not looking at her as he continued setting things out. She peered around him, curiosity already overcoming embarrassment.

“I have already extracted the venom from the rat and disposed of it. You are aware of the proper ingredient preparation and brewing process?” He still did not look at her as he spoke.

“Which brewing methodology-”

He interrupted without missing a beat, continuing to set out jars and vials. “We are using Empedocles’ elemental method of brewing. It is slower than the typical process for brewing antivenin, as it would probably take too long to urgently treat a patient; however, the venom from this snake may prove difficult to work with, so it is the safest option.”

Hermione appreciated how straightforward the explanation was, lacking the usual bite or demeaning tone he normally gave students.

They set to work, and after a brief awkward moment in which Hermione had to scoot past him to the corner of the closet-like room, there was a comfortable silence filled only with the sizzling of the cauldron and the chopping and mashing of ingredients.

Over the next few hours, Hermione found herself surreptitiously glancing over at her brewing partner, easily becoming distracted in her thoughts. She watched as he chopped, mashed, and diced. His hands are so nimble. Delicate, but strong.

It didn’t help that Snape had also unbuttoned the cuffs of his black frock coat and the white shirt he wore underneath, pushing the sleeves up past his forearms. This was to help him stir the cauldron and handle ingredients without contaminating his robes, she knew. Still, it was a bit strange to see him exposed. For Snape, this was almost a state of undress.

She flushed and returned her eyes to her own cutting board and knife, determined not to remember how Professor Snape appeared in only a white shirt and trousers, sleep-tousled and fiery-eyed. I also saw his chest when I healed him, she thought dangerously.

She snuck a peek through her lashes yet another time, noticing the man had tied his raven hair back at the nape of his neck to prevent it from falling in front of his face. This was perhaps, worse, if she wanted to remain calm and focused. Now she could clearly see the outline of his jaw, his thin and arched lips, and the beginning of his neck above his high collar.

“Granger,” he growled quietly.

She almost squeaked in surprise and returned her gaze to her board. She finished chopping the lotus petals, walked them over to the cauldron placed between herself and the Professor. She carefully poured them in before returning to her station and grabbing the next jar in front of her.

Hermione tried to concentrate on correctly mashing the doxy wings, she really did, but she found herself itching to sneak a glance at Snape out of the corner of her eye. Severus, she would call him in her head.

A quick turn of her head, at the pretense of cracking her neck, revealed that the dark-haired figure was no longer beside her. She frowned in confusion and turned her head completely.

“Granger.”

“Eek!”

She really did squeak this time as his low voice revealed his presence directly behind her, almost touching against her back. She felt her entire body erupt in goosebumps and tried to prevent herself from visibly shivering, especially as he continued speaking.

“Is there any reason,” he whispered menacingly, bringing one hand around each side of her to grip the table before her, “for your continual staring?” His bare forearms were so near to her trembling sides.

“I…I wasn’t…”

“Do. Not. Lie.” He hissed.

She could smell him clearly, picking up hints of sage and sandalwood along with the parchment smell, as if each new encounter with him uncovered another layer of scent. Her face and chest were hot, and she felt an accompanying warmth between her legs start to grow.

I was looking at you. Is there anything wrong with looking at an attractive man?

There’s no way I can say that.

“I was looking at you.”

Dragon Shite, I actually said it!

“That much, Miss Granger, is obvious.” He said this slowly, his lips smacking slightly with each syllable in the last word, making the implication even more threatening. “What I want to know is why. I want to hear you say it.”

Is there an innocent reason I can give? Because I want to get you down to the white shirt and practice snogging you slowly!

She didn’t answer. They stood silently like this for a minute or so, listening to the cauldron bubble and sizzle. Hermione did her best to keep her breathing calm, though there was a throbbing between her legs that didn’t help, and she prayed fervently he couldn’t sense.

Finally, Snape seemed to uncharacteristically be the one to bend first. He pushed back from the table and away from Hermione, no longer entrapping her between his arms and the table.

“Turn and look if you must.” He said bitterly.

Hermione turned completely around only to see him holding out his left forearm stiffly to her as he scowled. Her brow furrowed and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Professor… I didn’t mean…” She whispered.

“Had a look at the big bad Death Eater, now? Are you satisfied?”

The Dark Mark lay on his arm in front of her, but it did nothing to frighten her. She had already glimpsed it a few times when she had seen him shirtless in the future.

Hermione could almost say a blessing to her future self at that moment, for having already heard that they had won the war and defeated Voldemort made a difference now.

As she looked down at the Dark Mark on his arm, it seemed almost cartoonish when thinking of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and certainly was a victory mark when thinking of Severus. It was anything but frightening. It was almost endearing, strangely, as it was a part of him. Like a familiar birthmark or a unique feature.

Her heart felt warm as she realized this, reluctantly realizing she had been familiarizing herself with him mentally for weeks.

Maybe I make the first move.

She’d wondered this before, but she had thought it would be next year when she wasn’t a student any longer. She was 17 now officially, perhaps almost 18 after all the Time-Turner usage. Could I…

“Truly, sir, I wasn’t looking at it.” She looked up at his face now. “I was looking at you, yes, but I…I wasn’t looking at that. I honestly didn’t even notice it.” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “I was watching your arms and hands but only to see the way you prepared the ingredients. I was only-”

“Curious.” He finished blankly, voice devoid of emotion.

“Yes. Just curious.” She opened her eyes and met his. “That,” she waved nonchalantly towards his arm, “doesn’t bother me. Truly.”

He still had his arm held out to her, forearm extended. His face read of disbelief, but the anger had faded away now. Slowly he lowered his arm.

He turned away from her and wandlessly cast a stasis charm over the cauldron. She saw him pause then, apparently thinking his next words through before turning back to her.

“I am a spy, Miss Granger. It is my prerogative to notice subtle changes in behaviour, even if others do not. Your behaviour has changed significantly since you returned from your Order assignment in September. I would be hard-pressed not to notice and express concern for your… wellbeing.”

The words were neutral and could have been said kindly by someone like Remus or Molly. While Snape had not raised his voice above a low, quiet, even expression, the tone of the words was almost threatening. It is clear there is something the fuck wrong with you, so spill your guts before I decide you’re mentally compromised, She imagined him to say.

“That is very kind of you to be… concerned, sir. I assure you that I am well.”

“Apart from your incessant staring at me, I have caught you daydreaming, Granger- or hallucinating as it may be- in my class. Thankfully, I am spared much hoisting of a hand at full mast or rote recitation of textbooks, but it is still distracting enough to inquire about.”

She flushed. “I have not been daydreaming, Professor.” She couldn’t help but answer a bit forcefully. Hermione Granger was intelligent, but she still had the famous Gryffindor temper. “A normal person calls it thinking deeply.”

Snape came further forward at that, towering over her, centimeters from touching her. The hairs on her arms bristled in anticipation and hope.

“Oh, but I am not a normal person, Miss Granger.” He whispered menacingly. “I am a Death Eater, a spy, and a Legilimens, as Potter has surely told you.” His dark eyes bored into hers as he continued speaking softly. Her heart pounded into her ears as she gazed into the dark waters of his eyes. “What are you thinking about in class? Is it about the mission?”

In an instant, it seemed to Hermione as if the room was spinning around her while she was trapped in the midst of it. She couldn’t blink or look away from his eyes.

Then she saw the image that kept playing in her head. It had been making her flush every time her mind wandered too much during class… or in the quiet of her room. Just last night she had closed her curtains and her eyes and slipped a hand below the duvet, throwing her head back as she moved her fingers gently over her body, recalling the memory.

Severus at night in the window alcove.

Severus holding her against the wall.

Severus laughing in delight to see her.

Severus saying her name with a groan of relief.

Severus pulling her to him and kissing her passionately.

Severus with his hands tight against her back.

Severus running his hands through her curls.

Severus furiously unbuttoning her blouse.

Then as soon as it had begun, it was over. She found herself panting, holding herself up against the wall with one arm. She looked up and saw that Professor Snape was no longer standing directly before her but had backed up to the far wall next to the door and was leaning back against it.

His face was the typical cool mask, but Hermione had the advantage of having seen this look before. This is exactly how he had appeared when he confronted her in the Shrieking Shack about her future counterpart’s whereabouts.

He looked absolutely terrified.

“What was that?” He whispered.

The master Legilimens had indeed seen into her mind. I must have been able to push him out just in time. Sweet Merlin, thank goodness he didn’t see the Time-Turner part.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This had to be the worst lie she’d ever told. Her face felt as red as a tomato, and her hair seemed to have frizzed almost instantaneously as her body heat stoked the humidity around her.

“Tell me.”

“What- and if I don’t, you’ll go looking for the answer again?” She spat this out furiously, her eyes starting to itch. She pleaded with her body not to cry in front of him.

“No.” She was almost gleeful to see this response had unsettled him somewhat and he appeared thoughtfully subdued.

“Are we done, sir? Can I go?”

He simply stared at her. Apart from terror, she couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes.

Finally, after she was sure she would cry, he replied.

“It is almost nine.” This was all he said by way of explanation before sweeping out of the room, not even pulling down his sleeves or taking the tie out of his hair.

Hermione stood stunned for a moment before quietly tidying up the workspace with her shaking hands, sure Snape would find a way to blame her if it were left in disarray.

Severus slammed the door to his quarters and warded them as strongly as he could before stripping out of his outer black garments and throwing himself into a chair by the fire. With a quick Accio, a bottle of Firewhiskey came to join him. Not having summoned a glass, he uncorked the bottle and took a deep swig before lowering it. Damn, that’s good.

He sighed languidly. He knew he could finish the bottle tonight and still take a sober-up potion in the morning. Breakfast in the Great Hall would be an ordeal, but he would be alert and oriented in time for class.

He set the bottle down beside the chair and leaned forward, staring into the fire. There was plenty of time for drinking after he had thought everything through.

She fancied him… now? Albus hadn’t primed her, told her that she would travel back in time and meet him?

Even if the Headmaster had interfered somehow, it didn’t matter. What Severus had seen in her mind was a fantasy born out of genuine desire, for it was a vision conjured up as strongly as a memory would be. She wanted him to hold her and kiss her. Perhaps more, if the end of that daydream was any indication.

Severus continued staring into the crackling flames.

Does this change anything?

Yes! This changes everything!

Perhaps it wasn’t just an assignment. Maybe you weren’t only collateral damage.

He lowered his head and held it in his hands, groaning inwardly. He wanted her, he wanted her still, after all this time. What it had done to him to see her fantasies… He had to drink the feeling away before he gave in and stroked his aching cock to completion while thinking of her. He had refused to do so in years, shamefully beating his pillow with his fists and weeping in loneliness after the last time.

After she had arrived as a first-year and he had learned the complete truth, he had vacillated between missing the Hermione he had known and despising her machinations. He had lately believed it was better not to miss her. She was his student, after all, and she had never truly been his, had she.

If anything, this makes it harder, knowing her desire. It’s easier to hate her and believe her a manipulative seductress than to take second fiddle to another for this many years.

He shook his head and picked up the bottle again, trying to drudge up reasons to be angry at her, now finally knowing her attraction wasn’t faked. He had already grudgingly ignored the lies, understanding the necessity of her giving him only half-truths at the time. She desires you, but that is all. How could you be anything else? At the very least, she knowingly made you a lecher. She knew you first as teacher.

He took another long swig, before releasing the bottle and bringing it down again.

No, it doesn’t mean anything to her but lust. Remember her Patronus, after all. You’ve never had her heart.

He scowled.

Albus must have picked her to go back because he sensed her hot-for-teacher problem and he used that to his advantage. What better way to keep an eye on both Gryffindors and Slytherins? Marauders and potential Death Eaters? Pick the Gryffindor swot with a naughty attraction to the damaged bad boy.

Further disgusted, Severus resolved himself.

He had to know for sure. He couldn’t spend any more time mistaken about the root of her desire. And honestly, he was a lonely bachelor destined to be wanted for murder by the end of the school year. Who was he to disdain her sick student-teacher fantasy? Even if said fantasy had utterly destroyed him. Look at who Severus Snape was; he should take what he could get.

Decision made; he lifted his head up.

He would finish the bottle tonight.

Chapter Text

When Hermione arrived for brewing the next night, she found the door to the tiny laboratory open. Professor Snape was sitting perched on a stool at the back of the closet, back to the wall. It was such a position that there was no way she could avoid meeting his eyes directly as she came inside.

“Shut the door.”

Hermione complied quietly, her heart pounding. Her eyes darted around the room, easier than meeting his heated gaze. There were no ingredients or cutting boards out, only the cauldron in stasis over the flame.

“The brewing is complete; I finished this afternoon during a free period. There are vials on the table with which you can bottle and label the antivenin.” Snape was smirking at her, clearly relishing one-upping her by completing the task without her.

She scowled outwardly, so he could see her displeasure, and she moved to do as he said, but inwardly she was smirking to herself.

She had seen the labeled antivenin before, of course, when she had administered it to the dying man in the Shrieking Shack. It didn’t matter who brewed it, as long as the label was in her handwriting.

There was very little potion in the cauldron, but it ended up producing three full vials of antivenin. She labeled each “N. Antivenin”, just as she had seen before. Then she turned back to Professor Snape, relieving some of the tension in her straining muscles she had been feeling as he watched her. It was simultaneously wonderful and terrifying to face him.

“What is the shelf life of the antivenin, sir?”

“Frozen, years. Room temperature… probably a few months.”

Hermione thought about it carefully. “Is there a way to put a permanent freezing charm on the vial itself, so it can be transported safely?”

“You are thinking of having it ready for emergency usage.” Snape nodded thoughtfully. “Freezing charms wear off with time, but I will research a permanent method for freezing the vials. For now, a simple freezing charm will keep the antivenin safe.” He paused before adding, “It should go along with an extension charm if you want to create… a mobile first-aid kit, if you will. Better make it undetectable, as the Ministry regulates extension charms heavily.”

Hermione nodded, her mind absorbing the information eagerly. Write this down in the leatherbound journal tonight when you get back. Need to make sure the antivenin is frozen to keep safe for transport. Find out how to make freezing charms permanent or how often they need to be renewed. Also, research undetectable extension charm.

“These two vials should go to Professor Dumbledore. I’m assuming he would know about the permanent freezing charm or how to find it?” Hermione asked.

Snape nodded.

“Then, sir, you should have the last vial.” She set it apart from the others for him and looked at him for approval.

“Why?”

“You are the Order member in the presence of the snake more than anyone else, sir. I think you should keep some on hand. With your own extension charm?” She smiled gently at him.

His eyes softened and his lips twitched slightly.

What I wouldn’t give to see an actual smile out of that man. I’ve seen it once before when he laughed in the future. I want a smile that’s sincere- nothing cunning or duplicitous. He is always so tightly wound!

He needs a way to relax, let off steam. No, nothing dirty, Hermione! Just like a bath or a massage to ease his muscles... What would Severus like to do in his spare time? I’m sure he has enough books to read but does he actually read for enjoyment and not just for research? Does he even have any-

Snape’s low baritone jolted her out of her thoughts.

“Now, Miss Granger, we have the entire evening ahead of us. What do you suggest we do with the time?” His face was unreadable, but his eyes had become darker, the black waves of his irises seeming to crash upon the deeper fathoms of his pupils.

At his question, her mind had immediately wandered down the path it had just been on, imagining a relaxing evening together. She was curled up in Severus’ lap on an armchair in front of a roaring fire with a book held between them. His lips would whisper in her ear his thoughts on the subject as he held her back against his chest, his hands encircling her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. Hermione tried to stop herself from visibly gulping.

“We could… we could talk, sir.” Why is my mouth so dry?

“Talk.”

“You seem like you have something to say… sir.”

He made his familiar grimace with the corner of his mouth jerking up in secret amusement. Hermione daren’t show she understood the expression.

Gods, he must be thinking about what he saw last night. I have been too…

“A wager, Miss Granger. I propose a friendly wager on the outcome of tomorrow’s Quidditch match. It is Slytherin versus Gryffindor, after all.”

“I don’t know much about Quidditch; I’d rather not.”

He smirked at her. “You haven’t heard my terms.”

“I haven’t agreed yet, but let’s hear it.” She bit her lip before even hearing his answer.

“If I win, we will have a number of question-and-answer sessions,” he said smoothly, this conversation clearly rehearsed ahead of time. “In which I will question you and you will answer my questions…whatever they may be about. Questions about your life, your upbringing, your habits, your likes and dislikes, your hopes, your dreams, your nightmares. Questions about your last assignment for the Order, about what you have learned of Potter’s lessons with the Headmaster, and even…” His voice was deep and silky, at this point. “…If I so wish it, even questions about what I viewed in your mind last night.”

“A number of sessions? How many exactly?”

He cocked his head appraisingly at her. “As many as it takes to satisfy my… feverish curiosity.”

Hermione flushed. Well, that’s not going to happen. I’ve already promised Dumbledore not to say anything to Severus about the mission to the future.

“And if I win, sir?”

“Why, Miss Granger, anything you like that would incentivize you to agree to the bet.”

She thought about it for a moment.

“If I were to agree, which I haven’t yet, then I would ask for the same, sir. Only that you would answer my questions also about your life, your upbringing, your habits, likes, and dislikes, your hopes… and my questions about… how you are doing with the meetings you attend frequently. Questions about what happened to Katie Bell and what you know about the necklace… and questions about the assignment Professor Dumbledore will give me later, the one when I… when I use the Time-Turner to go back.” One year, I think, but he’ll know for sure.

She was sure to meet his eyes fearlessly this time. “I don’t know anything else about it, just that I go back, but I suspect you know something about it, sir.”

She had deliberately left off the bit about dreams and nightmares from her terms, but she hoped he would eventually tell her those willingly.

Snape stared back at her, stony-faced, revealing nothing.

“Very well, Granger. If we are agreed-”

“No. I said I haven’t agreed yet. There’s one more thing.”

Hermione felt exceedingly guilty now, but she had a hunch she was making the right move. Katie Bell was still at St. Mungo’s and Dean Thomas had replaced her as Chaser. That meant that Dean was playing as Chaser alongside Ginny, which was sure to be a distraction as the pair were dating and Dean had only been flying with the team for less than a week. Not to mention, Ron had been very surly and withdrawn lately, which she assumed was partly due to the upcoming match, and perhaps partly due to Ginny’s snogging incident. She knew that Ron had been performing abysmally during practices, despite reassurances she had been hearing from her two friends. Without her interference, he wouldn’t have made the team at all, as McLaggen had outperformed him at the tryouts.

In addition, Hermione now knew that Harry had seen Ginny and Dean snogging the other night, and she knew her dark-haired friend well. He fancied Ginny and he finally realized it for himself, Hermione was sure of it. That means Harry was the team Captain over Dean and Ginny and the Seeker for the team; he was sure to be finding himself struggling with jealousy and possibly with shame over the desire to abuse his position of authority and mistreat Dean. Plus, Ginny had thrown her recent snogging session with Dean in Ron’s face, so seeing Ginny and Dean flying together might distract Ron as well.

Distraction, you see. The Gryffindor Seeker and Keeper both distracted from the game was a sure recipe for a Gryffindor loss, and she had seen a loss happen before, even with Harry as seeker.

“I’ll agree to it, but my wager is that Slytherin wins,” she said.

“Indeed.” His eyebrows were raised in surprise. He said nothing in return.

“I understand if you don’t want to go through with it now. After all, I’m sure you could never root for Gryffindor.”

“You are correct, I would never root for Gryffindor. The idea of the wager, however, intrigues me.” He appeared to think about it for a bit longer. “Luckily for you, Granger, the prize of winning outweighs the risks of losing for me. I will agree to wager that… Slytherin does not win the match. While you wager that they do.” He smirked. “The fact that you are to be wearing red and gold and secretly hoping for the Snakes to come through is an added incentive to the bet.”

Hermione grinned back at him. “Well, sir, I think you have a deal.” She held out her hand for him to shake.

He took her hand in his. She held herself together instead of blushing and shivering at his touch. His touch.

She glanced up at him, realizing he was holding on longer than normal for a handshake. Swiftly, he withdrew his hand and gave her a brief nod.

Ron had been snapping at Hermione and glowering at her over the last few days, so she had come late to breakfast the next morning of the match. Tentatively, she asked how Harry and Ron were feeling before the big game.

“Fine,” said Harry, handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. Just as Ron raised it to his lips, Hermione intervened.

“Don’t drink that, Ron!” She looked at Harry in shock.

The boys looked up at her. “Why not?”

This can NOT be happening right now. Of all days for Harry to go and do this!

“You just put something in that drink.” Harry’s protests were cut off swiftly. “You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!”

Harry protested again and stowed the bottle in his pocket.

“Ron, I warn you, don’t drink it!” Hermione said, alarmed.

Ron picked the juice up and drained it quickly. “Stop bossing me around, Hermione,” Ron said petulantly.

Hermione seethed with fury as she realized what had just happened.

She was going to lose her bet to Snape because Harry was going to rig the game with his ill-gotten bottle of Felix Felicis! He shouldn’t even have the bottle to begin with! That Half-Blood Prince is helping him cheat in Potions and now he’s cheating at Quidditch!

“You should be expelled for that.” Hermione hissed. “I’d never have believed it of you, Harry!”

“Hark who’s talking,” Harry whispered. “Confunded anyone lately?”

She stormed away from them, furiously wringing her hands all the way down to the Quidditch pitch as the Gryffindor and Slytherin players headed to the changing rooms and the stadium seats began to fill up. The frosty grass crunched under her feet and she wrapped her gold and red scarf around her neck tightly.

Hermione picked a seat between Neville and Luna when she arrived at the stands. Luna was cheerily supporting Gryffindor, sporting her large lion’s head hat that day. Hermione really wished she weren’t. Normally, sitting directly next to Luna’s roaring hat was a bit annoying and embarrassing, even if not intentional on Luna’s part. Sitting next to the towering lion while Hermione was secretly betting for the Slytherin team to be victorious in the match, however, was downright ironic.

Of all the rotten luck for me. I hope Snape is enjoying this.

She searched him out across the stadium, finally spotting him in the teacher’s box. He was wearing his typical black robes, even adding a black knit wool hat to his usual outfit, ostensibly to keep his head and ears warm in the November chill. He was sporting a green and silver Slytherin scarf. She didn’t need her binoculars to know that he was probably smirking. Her heart lurched in her chest at the thought of his triumphant smirk-turned-grin, and she scowled in return at the feeling. Did she even want to win the wager, or did she prefer to see Severus pleased with the outcome?

“Oh look, Hermione, this is great!” Neville exclaimed from beside her, jerking her out of her traitorous thoughts. “The Slytherin lineup has changed!”

“What?” She cried, watching the players walk onto the pitch as the crowd roared.

“See, there, the Chaser is different. Normally it’s Nicholas Vaisey, but I guess he’s been replaced. Oh yes! Malfoy’s gone too!” Luna’s lion head roared in approval along with the cheers from the Gryffindor side.

Hermione groaned. Could this get any worse? That Felix Felicis was really doing a number on her chances today. She was absolutely going to kill Harry for this.

Thirty minutes into the game, Hermione Granger felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. Not only had she privately bet against her own house and friends, but they were doing spectacularly well. Ron had saved all shots on goal against him, some even by the tips of his fingers, and Ginny had scored many of Gryffindor’s goals, clearly not distracted by her boyfriend.

Hermione slunk further into her seat with each passing minute, hoping Snape hadn’t been watching her across the way, even though she was sure that he had been.

Gryffindor continued to perform well, and she feigned needing to use the loo so she didn’t have to watch the rest of Slytherin’s downfall. Sure enough, as she was coming up from the outhouses behind the stadium, she heard deafening applause, Luna’s familiar hat roaring, and a whistle indicating the end of the match.

Gritting her teeth, she headed straight for the changing rooms, tearing her scarf off. It took a bit of time to reach the changing rooms through the pushing of the crowds, happily discussing the Gryffindor win. Harry and Ron were the only ones left when Hermione entered, twisting the scarf in her hands, red-faced and upset.

She rounded on Harry. “You shouldn’t have done it. You heard Slughorn, it’s illegal.”

“What are you going to do, turn us in?” Ron demanded.

Harry feigned ignorance again and turned away, which further infuriated Hermione.

“You know perfectly well what we’re talking about! You spiked Ron’s juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!” She said shrilly.

And then, Hermione was proven the fool yet again today. Harry grinned, pulled the bottle out from inside his jacket pocket, and showed both her and Ron that the bottle was full of golden potion and the cork was still sealed with wax.

Hermione stood there gaping, and even Ron was surprised to hear he had actually performed that well on his own merit. That is, before he turned to Hermione angrily and berated her for not believing in him. Ron stormed out, Harry looked sheepishly at Hermione, and Hermione blinked back tears of shame and fury. She turned and left the changing rooms, heading up to the castle on her own, still mad at Harry and triply mad at her own idiocy in placing a bet on sports.

She hadn’t even noticed who was walking up beside her until it was too late.

“Miss Granger.”

She groaned inwardly but straightened her spine. She had no desire to show him her discomfort.

“Professor Snape.” She refused to look over at him as they walked side by side, lingering behind the remaining stragglers returning to the castle. “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Miss Granger. I hate seeing Slytherin lose a match.”

“Yes, well-” She tried to think of a witty comeback, but she had a niggling thought that was bothering her at the moment, so she was silent.

They walked a few more paces before it clicked into place and she froze, realizing. Snape had walked a few paces ahead of her before figuring out she had stopped, and he turned his head slightly.

“You knew! You had insider information!” Hermione’s eyes were wide with anger, almost bug-eyed, and her wild hair billowed around her head. “Don’t tell me you had no idea by last night that Vaisey and Malfoy couldn’t play today, as Head of Slytherin House!”

Snape turned fully around to face her, smirking. His hands were in the pockets of his black cloak, and he looked less formal with the knitted hat on. He appeared smooth, relaxed. She couldn’t help but conjure up a parallel muggle image of him in her mind, wearing a black leather jacket, smoking a cigarette, and leaning back against a motorcycle, like the cool, seductive asshole that he was.

“And if I did?” He raised an eyebrow at her. She was exceedingly angry with him and that delectable look he gave her enflamed her fury all the more. “That is no indication that Slytherin would lose.”

“Yes, but I’m sure that you thought they would! If we bet as normal, along House rivalries, you would have lost… And furthermore, you- you tricked me into betting against my own House!” This was the greatest sin in her book, even though Ron had been a right toerag to her over the last few days, and even though she had been angrily plucking Ron butterflies out of her chest with every step away from the Quidditch pitch. Whatever she did or didn’t feel for Ron, he was her friend and she bet against him.

“Hardly a trick, Granger.” He drawled. “You can hardly decry my foreknowledge when you were clearly working off inside information yourself.” She snarled and flushed at that, knowing he was right. She had relied on petty teenage drama to dictate the outcome of a sporting event and it had backfired spectacularly.

He stepped closer to her, bringing him a comfortable distance to her, but not inappropriate. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on our deal.”

Hermione glared up at him, meeting his black eyes which were flashing down at her.

He smirked.

He is trying to rile me up!

“I don’t think it’s fair under the circumstances to stick to the original terms.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t be trusted. After all, Granger, we shook on it.”

He quickly reached out his right hand and grasped hers, squeezing it tightly, as she gasped in surprise. He used their joined hands to pull her closer before he leaned in. Her throat caught as she smelled the musty smell of ancient books, sandalwood, and mahogany coming from him. She could feel the heat emanating off of him, engulfing her with warmth and the smells of a library, and she belatedly realized they were completely alone on the grounds.

“Let me teach you something about Slytherins,” he breathed quietly down into her ear as her heart pounded frantically in her chest. She longed both to flee quickly and to jump into his arms, the clasped hands simply not enough to ease the tension building within her. His black hair hung out the sides of his hat, down beside her cheek, obstructing his eyes from view. “We are prepared for all possible outcomes, however,” he hissed gently. “We never place bets we cannot win.”

Snape released her hand with a soft push, placing her back at a safe distance from him again. “I will let you know the time of our first… session.”

Then he turned and stalked off towards the castle.

Hermione shrieked inwardly in frustration and set off herself, sure to give Snape plenty of space. What does that even mean?! Did he influence me to bet against Gryffindor? Did he look in my head and know I was going to do it? How the bloody hell did he know? I barely knew! If I hadn’t been so recklessly impulsive!

She shook her scarf in annoyance, giving it a quick drying charm as she entered the castle and headed up the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.

As she traipsed up the stairs, she remembered his wording from the night before, as well as what he had just told her.

…the prize of winning outweighs the risks of losing…

He had been about to bet on Slytherin to win before I changed the terms, I’m sure of it.

…the prize of winning outweighs the risks of losing…

She could have smacked her hand over her face.

We never place bets we cannot win.

Snape didn’t care. He hadn’t needed to win. He wouldn’t place a bet if there was even a chance he would lose.

He didn’t care if he won or lost once he heard what my stipulations were, which means he would have been fine with losing and answering at least some of my questions…he knew I would probably answer a few of his in turn… He just had to go about this in an utterly infuriating way because he’s just so bloody difficult.

But how could he have known exactly what I would have asked for? How would he have known I would reciprocate to asking questions? What if I’d asked him for a snogging session, would he have agreed to that?

Argh! You’re overthinking things, Hermione. Either way, whether he knew how I would wager or not, he could have literally just asked me to come to tea with him some afternoon and we could have talked and asked each other questions then. Instead, he just had to be a cheeky, insufferable git and absolutely humiliate me for no reason.

As angry as she was, she knew part of the reason she was flushed was with a secret, heated pleasure. Severus had hurt her pride, yes, but he’d done so in order to surreptitiously ask her questions and find out more about her.

As she climbed through the portrait hole, the sounds of revelry flooded her ears. Gryffindor House was exuberantly celebrating its victory.

And right smack in the middle of the common room, unobscured from any angle, Ron and Lavender Brown were kissing each other ferociously.

Hermione immediately turned back around and exited the room, turning in the corridor to a nearby empty classroom. She sat on a desk there and mentally grasped the last remaining butterflies in her chest that fluttered for Ronald Weasley, squashing them roughly between her ribs.

Butterflies don’t sting or hurt. What flutters like a butterfly but causes damage? I know, birds…

She conjured the birds around her, tears of anger streaming down her face.

The birds were ready to attack when Harry found her, but she directed her army towards the disheveled Ron and Lavender when they stumbled into the classroom, looking for some new place yet untainted by their slobbering.

Hermione was only too happy to set her butterfly-birds a flight. The flock of golden bullets attacked Ron’s face as he covered it with his hands and yelped helplessly.

Hermione choked back a sob as she ran from the room.

Chapter Text

The week after the Quidditch match, Hermione had received a note one morning at breakfast with her regularly delivered owl post. It was addressed to Miss Granger in the familiar spiky writing she knew to be Professor Snape’s. Puzzled at how short it was, she frowned and turned it over a few times, looking for more. There were only two words; it wasn’t even a full sentence.

Only child?

She bit her lip, thinking about it. Thankfully, Harry was sitting with Ron that morning and no one was there to question her puzzled expression. She figured this was Snape’s way of beginning his questioning of her- their first “session”. She had assumed that the mention of upbringing, habits, likes, and dislikes were simply to unnerve her, and he would start with the heavy interrogations, but this note proved otherwise.

Firmly determined not to look up at the head table, she scribbled her answer on the same parchment to hand to the waiting owl.

Yes, I’m an only child.

She paused, wondering if this was enough, before deciding to add more.

My parents had difficulty conceiving for years and the pregnancy and birth were very hard on my mother. They wanted more children, but it was not in the cards.

She made a face and wrinkled her nose. Too much? Ah well, too late to leave that part off now. She strangely wondered if she should add that her mother was 37 when she was born, and her father had been nearly 50. Not to psychoanalyze herself either, but it could explain some of her own attraction to an older man. An almost 13-year age difference was nothing in her family, and the age difference between herself and Severus couldn’t be that much more…

Hermione shook her head, deciding not to add this. Instead, she wrote, What about you? Are you an only child?

She handed it to the owl and watched it fly away and out an open window, probably delivering it to Professor Snape’s quarters to ensure he could read it in privacy.

The next morning, there was another note from a different owl. This one simply answered, Yes.

There was another note the next morning with another benign question that Snape could probably have gotten the answer to from her school records. Hermione made sure to give some explanatory details in each answer and ask a question of her own, usually the same one he had just asked of her. A few times, she got no reply to her question of him, only a different question back on another topic. Thus began the correspondence.

Hermione and Ron avoided each other over the following weeks as Christmas break quickly approached. Harry found himself in the middle and, Harry not wanting to pick sides, Hermione saw much less of him as well. It was almost as if she and Ron were sharing custody of Harry in their new divorce.

Hermione saw Harry in the evenings, as her schedule was full during the daytime and Ron was spending his evenings in the common room, tightly wrapped around Lavender. This meant the Gryffindor Common Room was not a safe Harry-Hermione hangout space, and they spent much of their time together in the Library. They held whispered conversations there over their textbooks about who the Prince in Half-Blood Prince could be and which girls Harry most needed to avoid.

As Christmas was fast approaching, holly and mistletoe were scattered randomly throughout the halls. On her few walks to class in which she had custody of Harry, Hermione had to put up with gangs of younger girls making eyes at the Chosen One and jumping underneath enchanted mistletoe in hopes of being freed by his kiss. She dutifully warned Harry of Romilda Vane and her friends’ scheming attempts to sneak him love potions, smugly noting even the Half-Blood Prince wouldn’t have a remedy for all the different types they could try. Hermione advised him to ask someone to Slughorn’s Christmas party in order to dissuade some of the more daring admirers. Soon it came out that she would be attending with Cormac McLaggen, a fact she took vindictive glee in when she saw Ron’s face.

Harry had become convinced by Hermione’s attitude that she was in love with Ron and jealous of Lavender, despite Hermione’s protests.

She insisted to Harry, “He’s at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes. I really couldn’t care less.” The first was true; the second, not as much. Her feelings for Ron were even less than platonic at this point. She was bothered by it, but not because she wanted Ron sucking her own face. Unsurprising as it is in these circumstances, there were a multitude of reasons behind Hermione’s ire.

Lavender Brown, they have nothing in common! Didn’t he act like he wanted me to go to the Christmas party with him? Is he doing this all to get back at me for not believing in him? What an absolute arse!

Back to the first point- being at liberty. Hermione wasn’t at liberty to kiss whomever she liked, and there was now someone holding the entirety of her affection. He occupied her thoughts often, especially after their newfound communication had begun. Hermione was indeed jealous; it was difficult for her to gracefully allow Ronald Weasley his own freedoms when she was not similarly unencumbered.

While in the first few weeks the questions Hermione received from Snape had been polite and perfunctory, the questions she received near the end of November and beginning of December started to become more exploratory. She learned that they had very similar taste in music, sharing a love of certain classical composers, as well as a few choice muggle 70’s and 80’s bands that she had grown up listening to in the dental office lobby. After discovering the fondness of muggle musicians, she was surprised to learn that Snape was not pureblooded and had been raised in the muggle world himself, though he didn’t elaborate on that point.

Hermione learned that Snape was nearly sorted into Ravenclaw, just as she was, and she was unsurprised to learn that he was also a voracious reader. Hermione admitted to him that she loved 19th-century novels for leisure reading, being especially fond of Jane Eyre and Middlemarch as well as just about every work of Dickens, Hardy, and Austen. She discovered that Severus had a penchant for both classical and modern science fiction, as it was “far more imaginative, fantastical, and cerebral than anything labeled in the genre of Fantasy”. She smiled to herself, imagining him saying that in his low, even tones and wondering fondly if he ever got excited about anything.

The additional information had done nothing to ease her feelings, only stoking the fire more the more she learned. With each tiny tidbit of information Severus Snape allowed to seep through, Hermione could see the possibility of a future relationship coming more clearly into focus. She found herself anxiously anticipating her next note by owl and frustratingly wishing these sessions could be in person, though knowing for propriety’s sake that this would be unwise. She had been unable to sleep without thinking of him lately, now having no guilty thoughts of Ron whatsoever.

The notes began a witty banter, even, with him asking once about the bird’s nest upon her head and her reply playfully asking about his greasy locks. He did not appear at all offended by her playfulness and she could swear she saw a mischievous glint in his eyes the next time she saw him.

She had been out on her prefect patrols one night and came across him patrolling as well. After acknowledging each other with a brief nod from him and a smile from her, they had continued walking silently together for a few minutes. Following the tell-tale sounds of late-night coupling, they both pulled back opposite ends of a tapestry to find two students locked together. The Hufflepuff girl and Ravenclaw boy didn’t notice them at first, too busy lustfully moaning through locked mouths and grinding hips. A deep blush settled on Hermione’s face as she felt Severus beside her, but their voyeur moment was short-lived, and the students embarrassedly separated and sent to bed.

Hermione had hoped to converse with Severus afterward, but he merely raised an eyebrow and gave her a seductive smirk before sweeping past her, cloak billowing.

One evening she had decided to stop by during his office hours, in hopes of continuing their conversations. He had let her in, waiting for her to state her business and be on her way, but she lingered for a bit, asking drawn-out questions about potions articles or rare ingredients. She believed that Snape had dryly humored her at first, but he relaxed somewhat after a few of her trains of thought proved both sincere and interesting. She let herself out quietly after two hours, happily smiling to herself in the knowledge that students rarely made use of his open appointments.

A few nights later she sought him out again. She had been talking with him for a while about academic matters when something on one of his ingredient shelves caught her eye.

“What is that bottle?” Hermione pointed up at a bottle in the corner on the high shelf, its label obscured.

“Sanguine Virginis.” He replied.

“Virgin’s blood?” Her brow furrowed and she turned to look at him questioningly.

“It is a rare potions ingredient.” Severus drawled nonchalantly. “It purifies any treatments that are to be given intravenously. There are other ingredients that can do the same, but most are just as rare.” He paused then and his eyes had a faraway look to them. Snape was not one for woolgathering, however, and the moment was lost.

“You are fortunate I had it on hand,” he said to her pointedly.

“Why am I fortu- oh.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “The antivenin?”

He nodded. “That was part of the second brewing stage I completed alone. In this case, dealing with such a rare type of venom, I thought it was a necessary addition.”

Hermione nodded, but she looked lost in thought. Her brow had furrowed again. After her nose wrinkled and lips pouted slightly, she heard Snape give a light snort. He waved his hand impatiently and raised his eyebrows at her.

“Well? Go on with your question.”

“I just- more of a comment really…It’s just so…barbaric, isn’t it?” His look didn’t alter, and she plowed through. “I mean, Virgin’s Blood? Firstly, not all virgins bleed in that way as there are plenty of activities that can break the hymen ahead of intercourse…and secondly, it’s just a barbaric idea to… well…” She huffed, a little embarrassed at not being able to complete her thoughts without flushing. “To- to use someone like that in such an intimate way.”

Severus said nothing, simply watching her with those dark, fathomless eyes as she reddened further under his gaze. Are you speaking from experience? She imagined him to say to her.

“Yes,” he finally answered. “‘Virgin’s Blood’ is a misnomer, as blood is unnecessary for the solution and it does not only belong to the virgin. It is the virginal congress that matters.” Seeing her expression unchanged, he muttered in explanation, “the seminal fluids.”

“Ah.” She nodded, realizing she was having an academic sex talk with a man who she dreamed about sex with regularly. “And the- the other bit? About…using…”

Severus looked up at her sharply. “What do you want me to say, Granger? I didn’t buy it off a peddler, if that’s what you want to know. It wasn’t a backorder at Slug and Jiggers.”

“No, I…” Truthfully, she was curious about how this ingredient was obtained, especially if it gave insight into the sexual exploits of Severus Snape, but she daren’t ask him that.

She expected him to throw her out of his office, but instead he just sighed and lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. He leaned back tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

He spoke to her rotely as if lecturing for a class. “Virgin’s Blood is used in potion-making for its magical purity and its ability to cleanse solutions that interact directly in the bloodstream.” He removed his hand from his face and opened his eyes to look up at her. “As its purity is a vital part of its healing essence, it will be ineffective as an ingredient unless it is offered willingly; if taken forcefully, it is worthless. There is no way that the virgin in question is being…used, as you put it. There is nothing untoward in obtaining the solution… that is, not unless the virgin has an ulterior motive in offering their blood.”

“That…that is a relief to know, sir.”

He removed his hand from his face and looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. “Is it? Is it a relief to know that a woman freely offered herself to be used as an ingredient? Or that a woman had such forethought about an intimate moment?” Severus’ jaw clenched tightly as he continued. “Who is to say there was not an ulterior motive?”

“It was used in the antivenin, sir. Whatever the intent behind it, it is truly a lifesaving gift.”

“Do you believe that?” He whispered, eyes searching her out. “Would you be selfless enough to give such a gift? To offer yourself to a man and have him bottle and store the remnants of that union for future… experimentation?”

“No, sir.” She said this firmly, believing it.

That response appeared to satisfy him, and he leaned back in his chair.

“I would only…” Hermione’s heart ached for him then and she let slip more than she meant to. “I would only give that for love, never just for a potion.”

She belatedly realized that she had just admitted her personal philosophy on sex being reserved for love as well as her own virginal status. Before she could comment on this with further blushing, she muttered a quick “Goodnight, sir” and exited.

She left him deep in thought that night.

Hermione continued with her note passing with Severus over breakfasts, but they had become longer and more honest after their office meetings. She understood that her feelings had deepened, and she was becoming as worried as she was excited about the new developments. Nothing could happen now, of course… could it? She once again pondered if the future she had viewed came to fruition sooner than expected.

Do I make the first move?

She found herself once again visiting Severus during his open office hours, though she had no more Potions or Defense-related questions to open their discussion with. After knocking, she entered quietly to find him waiting for her, seated behind his desk and glaring.

“Granger, this must stop.”

“Sir? I only had a few questions about-”

“You did not.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk and fingers steepled together. “There is no need to find an excuse to visit as the letters should suffice for meeting the terms of our wager.”

“They don’t, really.” She sighed, not able to help herself from pouting slightly. “There’s too much back and forth and the response time is too long.”

“That is by design.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to be difficult, but quickly growing annoyed. “I enjoy talking with you, alright? Even if all you do is interrogate me with basic facts about myself. The polite thing to do would be to answer my questions as well, you know. I feel we are becoming, well…” Here you go, Hermione. Take the leap. “…friendly. Friends don’t need to limit conversation to terse notes over mealtimes.”

“I don’t know what you imagine this to be, Miss Granger, but an interrogation is more apt a description than a friendship.”

“Oh, really?” She scoffed. “What do I need to be interrogated about? What crime have I committed? What dark secret am I keeping when you ask about my childhood? Am I the next Chosen One?”

He snarled and she caught his tell-tale tick on the side of his mouth. Admit it, Snape. You think I’m funny and you like my company too.

“Inconsistencies.”

Her scoff didn’t leave her face. “Inconsistencies? I’ve hardly been telling people different stories, let alone you. Go ahead and ask if you have a question- I’m an open book. I can’t give you some information when my friends have asked me to keep it private, but it’s hardly worth an interrogation to safeguard a friend’s secrets.”

He rose from his chair and stalked menacingly towards her. “Ask you anything?” He hissed.

“I’ll tell you if I can’t answer it, sir, but I won’t lie.”

He came to stand immediately before her, and she could smell him distinctly. Mahogany and parchment and…something else. She knew he was trying to intimidate her by his closeness, but he simply rejuvenated her. She ached to touch him. Her heart gonged and groaned, and she mentally begged him to kiss her, to touch her.

Her heart sank at his next question and she forgot all her bravery. “Why are you coming to my office, Granger?” He whispered. “Why are you answering my questions?”

She opened her mouth to answer but found she could not. She had promised him she wouldn’t lie, but if she admitted that she couldn’t answer the question, she would be admitting there was nothing benign in her visits. She closed her mouth and bit her lip, gazing up at him, wide-eyed.

It feels like a lie to say I want to be friends. I don’t want that… I want him.

Severus looked down at her, stretching the silence between them. The lines in his face softened and she found herself wanting to kiss every one of them, running her fingers through his lank, black hair. Still, she waited for him to say something further. His thin lips parted, and he spoke to her softly.

“Now you understand why this must stop…Hermione.”

He stepped back from her and moved to open the office door. Shell-shocked, she mutely walked through it before he closed it gently behind her.

Hermione was in agony over the next few days, having heard nothing back from Severus after she had seen him in his office. They had been previously progressing in their mutual discovery of each other as far as she knew, and she hoped she was mistaken in thinking he was angry with her on the few times she was able to catch his eye.

Finally, she received another missive that said simply, Tell me about what I saw in your mind.

This was another morning Hermione sat alone, thankfully, for she couldn’t help the deep blush that spread over her face and down her neck. She was feeling particularly emboldened now, however. She knew that it was a year and change before Severus Snape would act out this scene with her, but she had grown to suspect that her feelings were not unreturned.

Over the last week that she had not heard from him, she had brazenly searched him out regularly at meals and stared at him until he met her eyes. The quick glance he would give her felt like an eternity and she would imagine it each night that week- his dark sensuous eyes meeting hers and giving her the once over slowly as she palmed a breast roughly through her nightshirt while her other hand fingered her clit through her drenched panties. The silencing charm and spell-sealed curtains hid her muffled pants and moans as she lurched wantonly into her hand, arching herself off the bed. She would close her eyes and imagine him there, simply standing unmoving above her over the bed, watching her pleasure herself to the thought of him. Even head thrown back, lips bitten imagining kisses, and nipples flicked and twisted did nothing to satisfy her aching need, as she would have to stop as soon as her sensitivity peaked too much for her to bear some imperceptible time before her climax.

After four nights of bittersweet frustration and no notes from her dark-eyed professor, she had met his eyes at breakfast the next morning and recalled the memory of the unsatisfying night before in her mind. This time, she knew the difference in his look when his eyes widened slightly, and brows furrowed in surprise. She looked away before he did for the first time that week, turning her head and smiling and laughing at the first somewhat amusing thing Harry said. Hermione felt Severus’ eyes burning into her as she did so, finding herself gleeful at the teasing. She was absolutely positive Severus was capable of wandless, silent Legilimency.

Then the next morning, she found herself sitting alone, holding that note in her hand and blushing hotly.

Tell me about what I saw in your mind.

Not even hesitating, she wrote back, Which time?

It was the shortest thing she had written to him, but she knew she had felt both thrilled and incensed with his short one-word answers in the beginning and hoped she would frustrate him back. Are we talking about snogging in a window alcove, Severus? Or something much more risqué?

Sure enough, it was not even a few minutes before the same note dropped back down on her plate. She looked up. He had never responded to her reply in the same meal before.

A large black eagle waited before her instead of the usual rotation of school barn owls.

He has a black eagle as a familiar, she thought.

Gingerly, she took the waiting parchment from its claw. It read, Both times. Explain.

Hermione’s heart beat frantically and she forced herself not to crush the note to her chest in embarrassment. She was trying to play out each scenario in her head like a chess move, unsuccessfully hoping to predict the outcome. Respond back now and deny all? Describe every last filthy thing she had imagined him doing to her? Crumble the note and stop this before it got out of hand?

She sat up in her seat on the bench at the Gryffindor table, shifting as she thought about it. Brashly, like the Gryffindor she was, she looked up towards the head table.

He had been watching her the whole time.

Hermione saw his dark eyes brimming over, reminding her again of a dark and powerful sea. His pupils were dilated, lips tight, and hands clenched tightly on the table before him.

Hermione was not sexually experienced, per se. She had snogged Viktor Krum a little and batted his hands away from her breasts when he reached for them, but this was the crux of her experience. Hermione Granger had an all-consuming thirst for knowledge, however, and she had a fervent curiosity about carnal matters just as much as any other subject.

She couldn’t help herself.

As their eyes met, she pulled up the image in her mind of herself on the bed moaning and pressing into her hand. She found herself biting down on her lip nervously as she recalled the memory, her eyes remaining keyed into Severus’ eyes across the hall. She could clearly feel him in her mind now, and she continued the memory.

Her right hand continued to tug at her sensitive nub, while with her left hand she simultaneously played with each breast and pinched her nipples until they poked and rubbed stiffly against her nightshirt. The silky material felt wonderful against the tips, and her mouth became dry as she arched upward. She panted as her hand roughly tugged at each of her breasts in turn before moving slowly down. She used it to clench her hip down on the sheets while she pressed her fingers into her core through the fabric of her shorts, bringing the juices up to help rub her clitoris through her pants.

She saw his chest rising and falling slightly faster than before, but still imperceptible to the average viewer at breakfast. His eyes were still locked into hers. It was as if they were the only two people in the hall, as the morning chatter and clangs of plates and silverware persisted noisily.

Memory-Hermione moaned and moved her hand from above the fabric to slide underneath her sleep shorts as Severus watched. Her other hand gripped her hip down onto the sheets to keep her from bucking up into her fingers. The Severus at the head table remained stoic, but the Severus in her head was not unaffected. The Severus above her bed watching inhaled raspily, eyes widening, and his hands twitched at his sides, as if hoping to join her on the bed.

Severus, she whispered, her other hand teasingly pulling her clothing down on one hip as her right hand continued to stroke beneath it. Severus.

Hermione saw the Severus at the table grimace in concentration, clearly trying to keep his tight-lipped composure.

She raised her chin, trembling and blushing terribly but not ceasing the memory and continuing to meet his eyes.

She grunted in her head as she twiddled her clit. Her left hand moved to her behind, grasping one cheek. She toyed with herself with one hand as she thrust her bottom upwards with her other hand, wishing he could assist her in some way, wishing it were his hands on her arse thrusting her upward.

Severus…please…I…fuck…oh Severus… She moaned quietly.

Hermione sitting at the table felt herself growing hotter both above and below her clothing, but now that she had dipped her toe in, now that she knew Severus was watching the memory along with her, she couldn’t stop. She forced herself to breathe through her nose so she wouldn’t pass out at the table between the eggs and the pumpkin juice. Severus’ fists were white, both clenched and resting on the table. She was still holding the note from him in her hands tightly.

Oh God…Severus…Oh please… She licked her lips as she touched herself, imagining his kisses. Her eyes were shut, and her curls frizzed with the sweat forming on her brow. Her mouth opened slightly as she panted, continuing the desperate touches.

Frustrated, the Hermione on the bed pushed her shorts further down, exposing herself completely to the Severus above her and trapping her thighs together where the fabric rested. She was wet and glistening before him, aching deeply in her lower abdomen and the tips of her breasts sensitized, but she had not yet reached completion. If she had only known he could actually watch her later, that might have helped.

The Severus watching in her head stepped closer to the bed, hands now clenched at his sides in white-knuckled fists, just like the Severus at the high table. Severus at the table remained stoic, if grimacing, while the Severus above the bed was slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

Memory-Hermione thrashed on the bed frantically, her face screwed up in concentration. She pulled her left hand away from her bottom and rushed it upwards, fumbling with her shirt. She lifted it up completely so she could grab her tits again, exposing herself to Severus from chest to thigh. She turned her head to the side and whispered encouragements to herself as she palmed her breast and brushed over her nipple, her fingers below moving rapidly now. She had imagined his deep voice whispering to her then, she remembered, hoping he could move her over the edge.

Severus please… I can’t…fuck…I can’t get there I…uhh…I need…ohh…please

The Severus above the bed had moved as close as possible without climbing on, his dark eyes devouring the scene. He made no other move to her and remained silent.

Sitting at the table, Hermione realized her knickers were soaked and she would have to rush up to change them after breakfast, but she still did not look away from the dark eyes across the hall.

Memory-Hermione jerked upward into her hand, her whole body convulsing.

Please please please Severus oh fuck yes I want yes yes yes

She threw her head back and groaned helplessly.

Then she shrieked in unfulfilled frustration, removing her hand, and angrily punching the sheets, knowing she had become too sensitive to continue on by herself without pain. She was quite wet and not completely unsatisfied, but she knew she had chased something that had run too fast and escaped her. Biologically, she understood that this is why women had partners to push them through to climax, but it was no less frustrating. Was this an orgasm? She supposed that this sensation could be it, but it felt like there was still something lacking.

Hermione felt a jolt and realized Severus had exited her head. Still red as a tomato, she glanced around. Belatedly, she realized the memory-viewing must have occurred within a matter of seconds, no matter how long it felt to her.

She looked down at the note, wondering if she should reply at this point.

Tell me about what I saw in your mind.

Which time?

Both times. Explain.

Fearlessly, she wrote, Ask me in person.

Despite her earlier boldness, Hermione had been somewhat terrified to meet Professor Snape’s eyes again. Thankfully, the end of term was fast approaching, and she was busy with classwork and homework, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to find herself mentally absorbed in other things. Also, she had received no reply.

When she did think about it, she was somewhat ashamed. She had never acted like that before… Not that it was anyone’s business what she did in the privacy of her bed or what she replayed in her mind. Honestly, Snape was the one at fault for sniffing around. Still… she couldn’t help but want to put her hands over her face in embarrassment every time she thought about what had happened between them. Severus Snape had watched her writhing around and lustfully moaning his name as she fingered herself. Not only that, but she had purposely shown him that memory to gauge his reaction.

Hermione had reached the point in which she could no longer bear the thought of him not feeling the same way. It wasn’t love, surely… was it? She had no idea, but she was warring with her own desires and logical conclusions about the point. Hermione had decided long ago that sex should only be given out of love, and it was clear that Severus Snape was not in love with her now… but she had seen that his future self was. She cared for him and his wellbeing, was jealous of his attentions, and missed him when he wouldn’t speak to her. His eyes and hands and lips and nose and brows and just about every body part of his she knew about were not only attractive to her but beautiful as well. She felt close to insanity at the thought of him. What was that if not love? If unrequited longing, lust, and care can ever be called love, this was such.

Hermione was determined not to label this as love, as love was far too daunting a word to admit to, but it was an undeniable attraction that had become a base need. She would not touch herself at night anymore out of embarrassment and heartsick longing, but he was in her dreams now, holding her gently in the bed and soothing her fears.

When it came time for the Slug Club Christmas party, she dressed well. She picked a deep forest green dress that hit just above knee length, with long sleeves, conservative neckline and a low-cut back. The dress had a high waist which she cinched with a golden sash. For her hair, she used a little Sleekeazy’s but didn’t want to stay too long in the dormitory with Lavender and Parvati glaring daggers at her. Satisfied with the Slytherin dress color that she could only get away with for Christmas, she decided she looked quite nice.

Cormac McLaggen was a perfect gentleman for the beginning of the evening, but once they got to the party and he had had a few drinks, he’d pushed her under the mistletoe a few times for a snog. A peck on the cheek she was fine with, even a chaste kiss on the lips, and she tried to be patient with her date, feeling somewhat guilty now that she was using him both to get back at Ron and parading him in front of Severus. After the third time of ignoring her brushoffs and sticking his hands in unwanted places, however, she elbowed him in the stomach, confunded him again, and set him off to blubber incoherently to a Hufflepuff fifth year.

Shortly after, Malfoy had arrived to party crash and Snape had led him out quickly to have a talk. Hermione subtly noted Harry slip out as well, she was sure in order to use his cloak to eavesdrop on the pair. Rolling her eyes, she waited a few more minutes before slipping out into the hallway as well.

When she stepped out into the hallway, Harry was nowhere to be seen and the Slytherins had clearly finished their discussion. Severus was heading in her direction, ostensibly to rejoin the party, and Malfoy was walking away in the other direction. Hermione moved aside so that Snape could enter the door beside her, but he held out his arm, directing her along the corridor.

“This way, Miss Granger.” He said quietly.

Surprised, she acquiesced without question and allowed him to lead her. His arm came along behind her to push gently at the small of her back as they walked, and her heart pounded in her chest at the contact.

They entered an empty classroom and he shut the door and locked it behind them, placing a silencing charm as well as another spell she didn’t recognize.

They both turned to look at each other, Hermione’s heart in her throat.

“Your date…” He drawled disdainfully.

“Got a little handsy,” she said quietly. “His attentions were neither wanted nor returned.”

They said nothing further for a few moments, simply looking each other up and down. This was the first time she had met his eyes since her mental confession to him. Severus’ eyes seemed darker than usual, and she noticed his hands twitching at his sides. He looked at her in such a way that made her feel just as mentally exposed now. Hermione felt achy all over and there was a distinct pain in her stomach and chest that made her feel almost nauseous.

“I am afraid,” he said finally, “that I am at a loss as to where to begin.” Hermione realized that the expression on his face had not been one of anger, but of caution.

She shook her head in a few short little movements, also afraid to speak first.

“Granger, I told you that it was unwise to see me in my office any longer,” he said quietly. His eyes were wide, expression was open, and mouth revealed no malice in the statement. “I have already hexed myself in the foot in continuing to interact with you, but you make it still more difficult for me to resist.”

Severus’ eyes locked onto hers and he continued in a hoarse whisper. “What have you been trying to elicit from me? I am only a man.” Hermione’s heart pounded rapidly in her chest.

“Am I still to understand that you have not…gone back?” He asked her softly, stepping forward towards her. She repeated her quick no head shakes. “No? There has been no other Order mission?” He stepped forward again and she began backing up towards the wall, still shaking her head no.

Severus’ eyes were dark and fiery, she could see now as he got closer. His tight lips formed into a wolfish grin as he continued to step forward. “Then,” he whispered. “Tell me about what I saw in your mind.”

She had backed up against the wall at this point, the cold stone biting into her exposed spine.

“Which time?” She croaked, imitating the response on her note.

His grin widened and he raised an eyebrow. That look alone sent her heart plummeting into her stomach.

“Both times.” He hissed in that dark, familiar tone. “Explain.” His lips moved slowly over the last word, emphasizing each syllable. He was now standing directly before her and she was trapped between him and the wall.

“Here I am, Miss Granger,” he chuckled, leaning above her, “asking you in person.”

“I would think it was rather self-explanatory.” She had finally found her courage, it seemed. Hermione looked up at him above her, still not touching, but close enough to kiss.

“Apparently not.”

Hermione was both terrified and thrilled. This is the exact scenario she had wanted for at least a month, if not longer. Yet how to proceed?

If he’s teasing me again, only humiliating me, I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t choose this to begin with, but here I am. I want it now.

Hermione had already weighed all the options, and nothing could happen now. This was forbidden. She gazed up at him pleadingly, willing him with her eyes not to ask her to explain further. How could she, even if she wanted to?

She bit her lip. An unexpected tear left her eye and traced down her cheek as she tried to still her emotions.

In an instant, his face faltered.

“Who put you up to this?” He hissed angrily.

“Wh- what?” His rapid about-face startled her.

“Do not play me for a fool! You know nothing about me, Granger, and I am hardly the stuff fantasies are born of.” He snarled at her, still leaning over her and forcing her into the wall without actually touching her.

“Whose idea was this?” Severus appeared to have misinterpreted her reluctance to speak as the giving up of some sort of sick charade. As if Hermione would shout, ‘Ha! Caught you, you sick pervert!’ and would display his pursuit of her for all to see.

Something broke in her and everything she’d been consumed by erupted suddenly in anger.

“Whose idea? Whose idea?” She snarled back at him, lifted her hands and pushed them hard against his chest. He fell back a few paces at her push but remained on his feet as she stalked back towards him, curls bouncing.

“You are the one who has been writing to me for weeks, telling me about yourself, becoming friendly with me- or- or god knows what else! You’ve pulled me along into this little game of yours and now you’re mad at me for further invading my privacy? How dare you, Snape!”

She poked him in the chest now, her nose wrinkled in fury as she glared daggers up at him. “You think you can go prodding and prying around in my head and then question me about it like I’ve done something wrong?” She shrieked.

“I don’t need to justify my thoughts to you or explain them! If anything, you should explain to me what the bloody hell you’ve been doing having a look!” She stepped back now, lowering her hands to her sides and breathing hard after her angry rant.

“If anything,” she choked, her anger slowly receding to fear of rejection, “it’s you who is playing me for the fool.” She closed her eyes, tears streaming down both sides of her face. When she opened her eyes, she hid none of her feeling from him.

“You know what you saw.” She whispered.

This confession was not eliciting the reaction from him that she intended. His eyes were wider now in surprise, but the fire had returned. His roguish grin was slowly returning along with the smoldering look.

Slowly, his hands left his sides and came up to each of her wrists. His fingers ghosted gently up her arms, lightly brushing the fabric of her long-sleeved dress. When his hands reached her shoulders, they paused momentarily. Then, just as she felt she could breathe again, his hands roughly grabbed her curls behind her head and pulled her neck forward into his lowering mouth. She gave a small moan as their upper bodies pressed together. She was engulfed again by his smell: musty parchment, sage, sandalwood, and some unknown hedonistic flavor that made her mouth water and her core ache with arousal.

“You offer me your body, your desires- but I am ravenous. I need more. I require explanation.” He spoke into the skin on her neck before nipping it gently with his teeth. Hermione pursed her lips together, reminding herself to breathe through her nose, her hands trembling at her sides.

“When you are ready to tell me,” his low voice purred in her ear as she gasped, “when you are ready to elucidate every individual detail of your enticing little dreams, as well as your intentions behind them, then come to me. When you are able to answer my questions- all of my questions, without hesitation… come to me…Hermione.”

He rubbed his face against her neck as he spoke, never kissing her outright, but letting her feel the friction from his lips. His breath felt like delicious fire on her skin, and she had to suppress moans as he moved. She could feel her knickers were damp and she half-wondered if she could come from his voice alone. His hands continued to hold her head, fingers threaded through her rapidly dampening curls.

“You may even ask your own questions. Write me a damn essay if you like, for I want to hear your thoughts. I want to hear every probing query, every precise clarification kept in that pretty little head.”

He still only held his face to her tilted-up neck, and her lower body cried out to be ground up against like she had seen the students do in the alcove. He chuckled at her squirming before continuing on in that low tone.  “Come now, use those delectable lips for an oral report on the subject so I can give you the ‘O’ you deserve.”

Hermione moaned openly now.

“Come to me. Present yourself open and unbared, and I shall…satisfy your curiosity.”

She felt him inhale slowly against her neck, rubbing his nose and cheek against her as he gently pulled away, removing his fingers from her hair, and parting her curls almost reverently. One hand followed the twist of a long curl as it moved away while the other moved tantalizingly down her open back in a featherlike tease. As his hand reached the dip where her dress fabric began, it slowly moved around her hip and away from her. She bit her tongue to keep from groaning at the loss of contact.

When he stepped back, she saw the same raw, heated look in his eyes for a brief second before he turned away fluidly. He unlocked the door and canceled his spells with one wave of his hand, opening the door swiftly and walking away down the corridor.

Hermione closed her eyes and slowly sunk against the stone floor, trying to catch her breath and still her heart rate, unsure if she could restrain herself from replaying this in her bed that night.

Chapter Text

Hermione lay in bed that night in a fugue-like state. Somehow, she had made her way up to Gryffindor tower and quietly into the girls’ dormitory without a sound, but now she found herself feverish and giddy. She was far too mature to squeal with delight and sigh ‘he likes me back’ over and over again, but she was hard-pressed to stop herself from doing it internally. Besides, she was a woman now, not a girl, so her thoughts were more along the vein of ‘he wants me too’.

She lay puzzling over his words as well, knowing she had to make sense of what Severus was asking for in order to get what she wanted. Truly, she wanted his sexual touch, but she would content herself with girlish fantasies of romance like holding hands and chaste kisses if need be. She was sure that even minimal contact with Severus Snape would quench some of this thirst. He had only caressed her hair and neck and that had left her weak-kneed and close to orgasm.

Determined not to immediately touch herself in wanton lust, she tried to make sense of his words.

“…I need more. I require explanation…”

“…your intentions behind them…”

“…When you are able to answer my questions- all of my questions, without hesitation… come to me…Hermione.”

Well…Dragon Shite.

She couldn’t answer all of his questions now, could she? He wasn’t supposed to know about the Time-Turning to the future. She couldn’t tell him about his near death in the Shrieking Shack… who could hear about that and still knowingly walk into it?

Hermione sighed, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. She was too much of a know-it-all to leave this be, and her unfulfilled lust was quickly dissipating.

There was something to do with the mission, though, she thought, frowning to herself. He was sure to ask first if I’d gotten my other assignment, if I’d gone back in time yet.

Wait!

It was clicking into place now. Yes, this is why he needed explanation, why he needed to know her intentions. He must have mistakenly thought someone had put her up to the seduction to get information out of him for some damn Order mission. Severus had been assuming she had been given some operation to undermine him or had taken it upon herself to do so.

Hermione groaned and put her hand over her face. This is why he was so quick to disbelieve her desire! Of course, this man who had been a bloody spy for so long couldn’t trust that she actually wanted him. Perhaps he’d been seduced in the past and tricked before, who knows?

Hermione bit her lip and tried to keep herself from jumping out of bed in nervous excitement. It was too early in the morning to pace the room in thoughtful strategy.

So, he wants assurances I’ve been given no other dangerous missions, that’s fine!

No… he also wants you to be completely honest about what you have done and what you do already know.

God, the man doesn’t ask for much, does he? ‘I like you and maybe we should kiss, but let’s begin with a background check and a perusal through your darkest personal secrets. Just to be safe, let’s exchange intelligence to ensure we are both fully apprised of all possible scenarios in the coming war.’

Damn, I can even imagine him saying some of that.

Hermione had strangely moved far past being frightened of the forbidden nature of a relationship with Severus Snape. His being so much older had never really bothered her for her own sake, though she did occasionally worry about keeping up with his intellect and the maturity that age surely brought. His being her professor did worry her a lot more, simply because she was always horrified at the possibility of being expelled; however, the fact that she had seen the future and been told she would not be back next year for the sake of the war did mollify these fears somewhat. It was only a matter of not being caught for the remainder of this school year, which was already half over.

Examining the situation further, Hermione trusted Severus to protect their relationship if need be, and to protect her reputation should it come to it. Just this realization made her heart speed up and clench tightly in a delicious type of pain.

I trust Severus. I trust him.

Hermione tried not to ponder too much on why Severus would be willing to risk himself either as a teacher or a spy by getting involved with her. She had already done so numerous times over the last two months as a way to keep her feelings in check. Now that her affection was allowed to flourish, why dampen it with doubts or hindrances?

When dawn broke quietly across the horizon and crept in through the windows, Hermione had made her decision about the next steps.

First, she would meet with Professor Dumbledore and get him to agree to the second mission she was supposed to be coercing him into. What with classes, fighting with Ron, students being possessed, and falling in love with her Defense Professor, she hadn’t had time to blackmail the headmaster into an Order mission her future self had told her about.

Second, well… today the Hogwarts Express left to bring students home for the Winter Holidays. As much as she wanted to stay over break and seduce her professor, she really should go home to see her parents.

After finally falling asleep for an hour or two, Hermione dressed for the day and made sure a small bag was packed with what she needed for home. Crookshanks could not be convinced to follow her into his carrier. He made it quite clear that with the spacious grounds and easy access to the kitchens, he would be pampered far more at Hogwarts than at her home. She ended up shrugging and relenting, figuring him being a half-kneazle made him able to take care of himself more than a regular cat would. Her familiar taken care of, she dressed in comfortable jeans and a jumper under her robes and made her way down to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry and Ron were in the Common Room, up unusually early for them. Harry had told her a few days ago that he would be going to the Burrow for Christmas with the Weasleys. Hermione waited, rather graciously she thought, for an apology from Ron or at least some sign of reconciliation.

Ron hadn’t truly spoken to her in almost a month and a half. The incident with the birds after the Quidditch match had left him petulant and with some long scratches on his hands and arms. He had not forgotten this quickly and had himself taken every opportunity to flaunt his closeness with Lavender in front of her. Hermione had still not forgotten Ron’s mean imitations of her, jumping out of his seat and waving his hand frantically when Professor Flitwick had his back turned in Charms class.

Harry gave her a quick hug and wished her an early ‘Happy Christmas’, but Ron merely scowled, apparently still upset about the lack of invite to the party the night before and her choice of escort.

Hermione returned Ron’s scowl with narrowed eyes, a quirk of her eyebrow, and a haughty smirk of her own. It was reminiscent, in her head, of how Severus would have gloated in the situation. She was determined to ignore him later on the Express home.

After stopping at the library to check out a few books over the break, Hermione grabbed a banana and a piece of toast for a quick bite to eat. She snuck up to the Headmaster’s office, hoping to speak to him about the mission before leaving for break. As she walked quickly towards the statue of the gargoyle, she became distracted by the idea of sending Severus Snape a Christmas present and just what would be… appropriate.

She was startled out of her thoughts when she collided with a taller figure.

“Oh, so sorry, I wasn’t watching where…” She trailed off when she saw who it was.

“It’s fine.” Draco Malfoy bit back stiffly. This, of all things, surprised Hermione. It was a mild response from Malfoy if she ever heard one.

“You going to see the Headmaster, Granger?” He nodded towards the direction she had been heading. “He’s not there, I’ve just checked.” He sounded like he was deliberately trying to keep his tone light, but there was an air of slyness to it. “You have business with him?”

Hermione flushed, remembering Harry’s suspicions. “Of course,” she replied smoothly. “I’m a shoo-in for Head Girl next year, don’t you know? I meet with him frequently.”

There, she thought. That should give me an excuse if Malfoy goes sniffing around and sees me meeting with Dumbledore about any Order business.

Malfoy sneered characteristically and gave her a jerked nod before sweeping away. She recognized the motion as one Severus used regularly, and she wondered if it was a Slytherin thing.

Hermione’s time at home was well spent. She shopped in Muggle stores and at Diagon Alley for presents for her friends, and she even got a perfectly platonic-sounding (in case anyone asked) present for Professor Snape, a suggestion of her Dad. Her dad had been excited to recommend science fiction books for Severus (only knowing him as “a friend”), but as she wasn’t quite sure what he had already read or not, she settled on a nicely bound, first-edition copy of Edgar Rice Burrough’s Princess of Mars. The presents were sent on early via rent-an-owl in Diagon Alley so she wouldn’t have to worry about owl correspondence later. She had spotted a strategy book for Ron that even included strategic ways to interact with others in daily life (hint hint, apologise!) but she decided not to send him a present just yet; he’d think he was forgiven without having to make amends, which she didn’t want to reinforce. She purchased the book, just in case, but opted to keep it with her until friendship was restored.

Once the Christmas shopping was taken care of, Hermione enjoyed quiet evenings at home with her parents. Over the week before Christmas, her mum taught her some Italian phrases she had learned, as she had been studying the language to help with her genealogy research. Hermione found the language very beautiful, and she ended up studying a bit further on her own. With her knowledge of Latin both from the primary school she attended and spellcasting at Hogwarts, Italian pronunciation came easily to her.

Hermione also read the books she had gotten from the library and made an extension charm on a small, purple beaded bag she found in her closet. The beaded bag easily fit all the items she had brought from Hogwarts and was much easier to carry, so she transferred them over. Thankfully, the lack of the trace on her magic should ensure the extension charm would remain undetectable by the Ministry. She was glad that she was 17 and no longer had to worry about the restriction of not doing magic outside of school, though she suspected she might have been 17 a few months earlier than expected due to the Time-Turner usage. At any rate, she was able to practice much of her Charms work, and she even discovered how to make a freezing charm permanent, which she attempted on a box in her room she could use like a cooler.

Once Christmas Eve came and the holiday supper had been eaten, Hermione and her parents settled down in front of a crackling fire as snow fell softly outside in feather-like flakes. The Grangers were avid readers, and they each had a book in front of them. John was reading something by Aristotle, the family having an affinity for Greek philosophers as well as Greek names; Helen was continuing with her Italian lessons, seemingly having forgotten about her genealogy search and attempting to become as Italian as her ancestors; Hermione was reading a quantum science book she had stumbled upon that had some theoretical conjectures about what time travel could be like and its potential ramifications. Why not? She figured.

The evening was quite cozy and relaxed in an all-too-perfect way, so it was bound to be interrupted.

Hermione started as she heard a scraping knock at the door. Furrowing her brow, she got up to answer the door only to find a bird perched on the porch rail.

She flushed with delight as she recognized the black eagle, and gently stroked its head before taking the package from its claws. It took off immediately, and she turned to go back in and shut the door when she heard a piercing cry that made her look back up.

It appeared the eagle had nearly collided with another bird, heading towards her house as the eagle flew away. The black eagle let out a cry and snapped at the other with its beak as the other seamlessly changed direction mid-flight to dodge the attack. The moment passed quickly, and the black eagle was gone. Hermione waited on her porch for the other bird to land.

This bird was as large as an owl, with its outer feathers a stark white and some brown spotting in the underwings. It was no wonder the eagle nearly flew into it in the falling snow, for the white bird must have blended in seamlessly to the sky.

Again, not an owl? Hermione thought, wondering at the new creatures that were delivering items to her. She had seen owls act exclusively as the magical delivery animals for years and now there were two birds of prey delivering to her, and seemingly rare ones at that. She had already researched Severus’ black eagle and knew it to be native to Southeast Asia, not Britain.

Cautiously, she reached out and took the other package from the white bird. Just as quickly as the eagle had, the white hunter flew away into the snowy night sky. 

Hermione came in and shut the door, shivering now after having been on the step too long. She was beyond excited to open the first package, which she knew was from Severus, but thought better of it. Her parents were right there, after all, and she should avoid awkward questions. She placed both presents under the Christmas tree and grabbed a throw blanket to snuggle under.

Not half an hour had gone by before the Grangers were interrupted again. Hermione answered the door again, figuring for another late delivery from a friend. She was shocked to find a person standing on the doorstep at all, let alone who it was.

“Oh! P-professor…”

Snape stood there, still ominous in his trademark black robes despite his hair and shoulders quickly being covered with soft snowflakes.

He raised an eyebrow. “May I-”

“Oh, oh of course Professor. I’m sorry. Do come in.” She opened the door to let him in, her parents having risen to greet her guest. “Mum, Dad, this is Professor Snape. He’s the Potions- well, Defense… um...”

“I currently teach magical defensive combat,” he explained smoothly, and without irritation, as Hermione closed the door behind him. “However, I have spent the previous years teaching a magical science that is akin to chemistry.”

Her parents nodded politely and smiled, giving their names. Her mother was too polite to ask what he could possibly be doing here on Christmas Eve so far into the evening and she left to make him a cup of tea.

Severus looked anxious, Hermione thought. His hands were twitching at his sides and, while his face held his usual stern expression, his eyes were wide and pupils somewhat dilated. Mr. Granger tried to awkwardly engage in pleasantries, asking Severus about the holidays while Hermione flushed and tried not to openly wring her hands. When Mrs. Granger returned with the tea, however, Severus gave up all pretense and must have steeled himself for the backlash of whatever he was withholding.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I apologize for the intrusion…especially tonight…but it cannot be helped. I regret the matter is quite urgent and must be addressed immediately.” Helen and John Granger shared confused, but alerted, looks as Hermione bit her lip and allowed herself now to openly wring her hands.

He turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger,” he said quietly. “Have you seen a gyrfalcon this evening?”

“I- yes, I think so. White bird with the brown spots?”

He nodded. “Did it deliver anything?”

She gestured towards the Christmas tree and the presents under it, her brow furrowed in worried confusion. Severus turned to the Christmas tree, pulling out his wand and muttering a few words quietly.

The package from the white falcon had been wrapped in brown paper and red string. Severus levitated the package, turning his head back to her. She nodded, indicating that was indeed the one the gyrfalcon had brought.

“Stand back against the far wall, all of you.” He commanded. The three Grangers quickly complied, cowed by his firm tone.

With further mutterings, the package began to spin slowly in mid-air, the string slowly unwrapping. After the string had fallen to the floor, the bits of brown paper were next. What remained was a scroll tied closed with a ribbon.

Hermione frowned in puzzlement, wondering what could possibly be written on it.

Severus scowled. Another wave of his wand and the scroll began to glow a yellowish-green.

“It is as I suspected. Do you have a back garden?” Severus was pointed towards the kitchen, where a door led out to the yard. Slowly, he levitated the scroll in front of him as he walked that way, opening the door to the outside by magic so as not to come too near to the floating item. As he exited, Hermione’s parents looked at her with dual expressions of horror and confusion.

“Hermione, what is going on?” Her father asked pointedly.

Before she could do more than gape further in frightened uncertainty, a loud bang erupted from the yard. The trio jumped at the noise, already shaky, and Hermione got out her wand and strode over to the kitchen. She was met by Severus entering through the outer door and ushering her back into the sitting room with her parents, the scroll apparently disposed of.

“I will take that tea now, Mrs. Granger,” he said. “If I may?”

Helen nodded numbly and motioned for Severus to sit in the armchair across from the sofa, while the three Grangers gathered together on the couch. Her parents appeared stunned, while Hermione’s face was grim.

“From your surprise, I can presume that Miss Granger has not… thoroughly apprised you of the events of the previous six months,” Severus said quietly, picking up the cup and saucer. “I can stay to finish the tea, during which she can catch you up, but after that, we must be going.”

“I’m sorry, we?” Hermione’s mum no longer wished to adopt the politely affable manner. “It’s Christmas Eve! Why should Hermione be going anywhere right now? What was in that parcel?”

Severus looked pointedly at Hermione and merely brought the tea to his lips. I took care of the emergency, he seemed to say. Your turn.

Hermione turned to her parents sitting beside her on the couch.

She took her mum’s hand and exhaled slowly before beginning. “Mum, Dad… you told me to let you know when the... when the tide began to turn.”

“Hermione,” her mother whispered, wide-eyed. “What have you not been saying?”

Out with it, don’t mince words, she thought.

“The time has already passed. It will… It will be open war soon, within the year I think. I… I didn’t want to worry you, but I knew you wouldn’t be happy with my decision. I’m a witch, and I’m part of this world. I’m not going to run and hide away, I’m going to fight for my right to be here.” She had explained some of the discrimination of the wizarding world to her parents, who had been proud of their champion of the underdog. She may have downplayed the dangers involved in actually being a Muggle-born, however. It wasn’t simply the sneers at her high marks, it was also a desire to have her killed off.

Helen’s face crumbled, understanding Hermione’s decision. There was no use now in bringing up her youth to protest her decision-making ability, as they had always treated her as so adult. Hermione had grown up far too quickly with the attention given to an only child, one of the reasons she was precocious and knowledgeable beyond her years.

Helen buried her head in her husband’s shoulder. John Granger did not look as surprised at Hermione’s admission, and he may have suspected this discussion was coming eventually. He rubbed his wife’s back soothingly but did not take his gaze away from the scene. He had a hardened expression, expecting further blows of revelation.

Hermione exhaled deeply again, now turning back to Severus. “The package was… It was a portkey, wasn’t it?” Severus inclined his head politely and continued to sip at the tea.

“Someone… was trying to take me somewhere.” She told her parents. “A scroll was a good choice; I probably would have been curious enough to try to read it. If I had opened the scroll, the portkey would have been activated when I touched it long enough. I would have been transported somewhere else.”

“Kidnapped.” Her father barked out.

“Yes,” she said. “Professor Snape saved me from that.”

“But why you?” Helen cried, turning out of John’s embrace. “Surely there are plenty of others who weren’t born into that world! You can’t be the only potential kidnapping target!”

“Harry is the biggest target there is right now,” she said, no longer fumbling over her words. “I’m a known figure, actually…I showed you those ridiculous articles in the paper in fourth year. Due to Rita Skeeter’s insinuations, my connection to Harry Potter is known…” She sighed. “It’s not altogether unexpected.”

This was an explanation they could understand quickly. She had never told them the true nature of her hospitalization at the end of Fifth Year, nor anything about the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had blamed the injury on her own inquisitiveness, mentioning an advanced spell she had researched on her own which had gotten out of hand. After some scolding and promises to be more careful with her research, the incident had been forgotten; she had never revealed her scar.

Hermione had kept her parents in the dark about the dangers over the years, hoping to spare them the worry, but she wasn’t sure that had been the correct choice.

“How did you know?” Mr. Granger bit out, holding his wife who was clutching him again and glaring daggers at Severus. “You knew Hermione was in danger. What I want to know is how.”

Rather than meet this thinly-veiled accusation with his own ire, Severus kept his calm manner. He lowered his teacup and saucer, placing them on a side table adjacent to the chair. “Yes, Miss Granger.” He said quietly, his dark eyes locking on to Hermione’s hazel ones. “How indeed.”

Fuck.

No! Breathe, don’t panic. There has to be a solution. We can’t be caught out already! Bloody hell at least can’t I have snogged or shagged him properly first?

Why was he sending me a present?

“I… I received your extra credit assignment tonight- that I requested-” she added hurriedly, lest her parents cotton on to Severus being as severe an instructor as he indeed was, “and…your familiar…”

Severus nodded, taking over from there. “Yes, my familiar encountered the gyrfalcon which delivered the portkey to you. Familiars have a way of communicating with their witch or wizard, as I am sure you know, and he related to me that he had seen the gyrfalcon.”

“I’m still not following.” Said John Granger coldly. Hermione’s analytical side did probably come from him. “Your bird saw another bird. Even if your bird could tell you what it saw…you knew from that alone that our daughter was in danger of being kidnapped?”

Severus nodded politely but met Mr. Granger’s heated inquiry with the familiar stern gaze that frightened many a student to silence. “Yes. You have hit upon an issue with my arrival at all. I happen to know the owner of the bird in question, but… this warning may not be traced back to me.”

Bloody fucking hell. Don’t tell me he’s fucking blown his cover!

Hermione allowed herself to put her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. If it were only her and Severus, she probably would have lost composure and screamed at him for being such a dumb fucking idiot and putting himself in danger. For her.

He can’t be here right now warning me! Whose damn bird is it? Voldemort himself?

“Miss Granger,” he said calmly, startling Hermione out of her thoughts. “Any suggestions?” She lifted her head up to look at him incredulously.

Severus sat back in the chair and folded his right leg over his left to wait for her answer in such a casual manner that it was almost laughable.

He’s come here on Christmas Eve, destroyed a portkey in the back yard, potentially blown his cover to save me and now he’s letting me dictate the next move?  She couldn’t decide if it was the most attractive thing he’d ever done or the most frightening.

“Well,” Hermione said calmly, trying to keep her heart from pounding too loudly in front of her parents. “If I discovered the portkey myself, I would destroy it and probably alert someone.”

“Owl? Floo Network?” Severus asked. Hermione paused and slowly shook her head no. That was quite an oversight, wasn’t it? How was she supposed to get word to anyone in an emergency? “…Patronus?” Severus said the word with some imbued meaning that she didn’t catch.

“I- I can try.”

Yet even Hermione Granger, swot extraordinaire, was having trouble with that spell tonight. She hadn’t tried the Patronus in quite a while, ever since last year’s D.A. meetings, so she could just be out of practice. She flushed with embarrassment at Severus seeing her make such a failing. The Patronus had already been somewhat of a difficult spell for her, as much of casting felt like a complex equation (incantation plus wand-waving pattern equals results) and the Patronus required a layer of not only intent but the correct emotion. The emotion part was harder to account for formulaically, so conjuring the Patronus had always been somewhat difficult for her.

Hermione preferred things nice, tidy, and clearly delineated. This was one reason whatever was happening between her and Severus was driving her mad.

At seeing her inability to conjure a Patronus to relay a message, Severus rose to his feet and begin to slowly walk around the room, pacing in thought.

Hermione took the opportunity to turn to her parents and explain some semblance of what was going on. “Professor Snape is a spy, so he can use the information he has learned to protect others, but it can’t be known that he was the one to do it without compromising his position. He could easily get word to someone, yes, but I need to be the one to do it so that it appears that I’ve done it all without his help.”

After hearing this, John Granger was now quite on board with the whole situation. He had always been a James Bond fan, after all, and who doesn’t love a good spy story?

“You don’t need to get word to anyone if you leave,” Severus said quietly and the Grangers turned to look. “You can leave and do it yourself. I can follow. Disillusioned, of course.”

“Where? Where would I go?” He simply looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Umm… ok, where would I go… Well, the Burrow’s out. I might normally go there, but imagining the circumstances are what they are, then… well, I wouldn’t opt for that route.”

“No,” he agreed, “this is not information which everyone from the Order is privy to. The Burrow is not an option.”

“I suppose… I suppose I’d go back to Hogwarts. I think I’d take the Knight Bus.”

“And how would you explain your arrival on Christmas Eve, or perhaps Christmas Day, in the middle of the night? How would you get someone to come to the gates of Hogwarts to let you in if you cannot conjure a Patronus?”

“Please,” Helen Granger chimed in. “I don’t understand why it has to be immediately. At least wait until after Christmas…”

“No, Mum,” Hermione said gently, but firmly. “They might come back to see if it worked. I have to leave.” She looked up at Severus questioningly. “My parents…”

“Either must vacate or allow me to place wards on the property that last until the term resumes.” Hermione frowned and narrowed her eyes at this, and he continued. “Presumably, the perpetrator knows you will be back at Hogwarts for the start of term and will not make another attempt here after that point. Your parents should be safe if they remain within the wards until the start of term.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, her curls frizzing out in fear and anxiety and no longer soft and bouncy. She explained the meaning of this to her parents and they agreed they would rather hole up in the house until the start of term rather than leave immediately. Her father helpfully added that they had plenty of portions left over from the meals leading up to the holidays, so they should be fine without any trips to the shops.

Hermione nodded, her parents’ safety assured. “But…the rest of it?” She looked up at Severus. “Going to Hogwarts now-”

“I think I have figured out the rest, Miss Granger,” Severus said briskly. “Please… gather your things and say your goodbyes. We have delayed long enough as it is.” He said this matter-of-factly, as it was not up for discussion, but the whole conversation had seemed very delicately tempered on his part.

Severus was good at making himself part of the scenery and blending into the background. He ensconced himself in some cozy corner of the warm Granger sitting room while Hermione went to grab her beaded bag from upstairs. After returning from her room, she added her presents under the tree to the bag quickly before turning to her parents and tearfully hugging them goodbye. Hermione’s mother cried openly and asked her to wear her sapphire necklace as much as possible to help think of them and to write often. Her father gave her a tight hug and mumbled something about his baby girl growing up too fast. She wished them a Happy Christmas and apologized for not staying.

Then, quickly and quietly, Severus escorted her outside and apparated her quickly away.

They arrived in another sitting room, this one far dirtier and colder than the last. She saw Severus remove his outer traveling cloak and then unbutton his frock coat as well to hang it on the coat hook. She blushed and turned away, already thinking impure thoughts to see him down to his white button-up shirt and trousers.

Severus gestured her upstairs and led her to a bedroom. The room was spacious, with a large bed, a fireplace…

Hermione gasped and turned to him, recognizing the room. “You’ve brought me to your home.”

He stiffened and nodded, not looking at her as he began to ready the room. He lit the fire with his wand and sent a cleaning spell throughout the room, ridding it of accumulated dust. “It seemed the most logical conclusion. As stands, you discovered the portkey and destroyed it, placing wards on your home and remaining inside until your sudden appearance at Hogwarts, which will be done via Floo. No one else knows your parents’ home is not connected to the Floo Network, I presume? You could have contacted someone from the Order this way as well.”

“Then why am I here…sir?” She said quietly. “Not at Hogwarts?”

“Your sudden appearance on Christmas would cause more questions. I can house you here until the new year, when you can return to Hogwarts, claiming an eagerness to get back to study if you wish. The… the person who sent the portkey will merely think you traveled back early via Floo if they are watching the house.”

“I see.” She said gently, not wanting to provoke him. “And that person is…?”

“I can’t tell you, Granger.”

“Why is that? Surely the Headmaster-”

“I will visit Albus shortly to apprise him of the events, but he will probably agree with the course of action.”

“I don’t understand. I know what I said to my parents, but it doesn’t actually make sense to me.” Hermione said, puzzled. “The only thing that’s happened lately is Katie Bell, but…” she trailed off, noticing Severus’ nostrils had flared. She understood his reaction immediately.

“This is related.” It wasn’t a question. “You know what’s been happening and this is related. Oh, God.”

Hermione felt her knees grow weak and she fell backward, her legs colliding with the large bed and she propped herself up on it, scooting back to sit on the edge.

“Katie was trying to deliver that necklace to someone in the castle. If I had touched the portkey, they could have gotten me and Imperiused me into bringing something to the castle…either during or after break.”

Her eyes grew wide then and she looked up at Severus, shocked. “Unless I was the target of the necklace to begin with?” She whispered.

“No!” He barked sharply, glaring at her. “No, of course not,” he corrected, lowering his volume. He sighed exasperatedly. “I suspect that you were to be used as a courier in the same manner as Miss Bell.”

“Why haven’t you been stopping it?” She cried. “Whoever this is doesn’t care about who they hurt along the way! Can’t you bring this information to Dumbledore?”

Severus met her eyes. “I have.”

“And he’s going along with it all? For the long game, is it?” She found herself exhausted and furious all at once. “Are we all to be sacrificial lambs for the Order?” She yelled up at him, shaking. Whether in fear or anger she wasn’t sure.

“I would never sacrifice you.” He growled. “Has tonight not shown you this? I risked everything in coming to you tonight. Everything.”

“Yet you don’t trust me!” She leapt up and placed herself directly before him to confront him. “I have to tell you every detail about what I’ve done for the Order or what my intentions are… or… Gods! Anything you bloody want to know, but you can’t be bothered to tell me who just endangered me and my family on Christmas! You can trust me!”

Severus grabbed her arms at the elbows and held her at a maddening distance from him. Close enough to smell him, to want him, but far enough to keep from pressing up against him. He seemed so raw and accessible in his casual state of dress, it hurt more not to touch him.

“I cannot.” He hissed in a low tone. “Not…yet.”

“Why?” She cried. “I swear to you there is no ulterior motive for me. I’m on no fact-finding mission about you- not by anyone else! Anything I want to know is because I want to know it! I ask these things because I want to help. I want to know what you’re going through. I want… I want to know…” She faltered, realizing she had changed what they were talking about.

I want to know you.

I want to know everything about you.

I want to know you completely.

I want you.

She realized belatedly that this had been exactly the knowledge he had been trying to get from her. They each wanted a full disclosure of the other person, their personality, their own secrets and goals. They were at an impasse now, as neither was willing to budge and offer up themself completely first. Hermione had information she refused to give Severus yet, and it appears he had the same reluctance. Not only the information, but even the reasons behind keeping it hidden were undisclosable for the foreseeable future. The two were butting up against each other in a battle of wills: who can most loyally keep the secrets of war, while still ingratiating themself to the other? Hermione was finding herself hard-pressed not to just relent and allow herself to be thoroughly interrogated, whatever that would entail.

A low rumble echoed from his chest and he gripped her more tightly to keep her at arms' length. His eyes drifted above her head to the far wall behind her. He held himself still for a few moments before speaking. “Witch,” he said in a stilted voice, “what are you asking of me?”

She gazed up at him pleadingly, eyes wide.

“You know what I want, Severus.” She said quietly.

This was the first time she had said his name aloud to him, projected fantasies notwithstanding. He lowered his face to meet her eyes again.

“Please, Severus,” Hermione whispered, looking up at him.

He said nothing, but merely began backing her up slowly towards the bed. Her breath hitched in anticipation as she felt him relax his grip and gently lower her backward onto the bed.

He lowered his head, bringing his face close to hers, his black hair curtaining her face and hiding them both together.

“I am putting you to bed,” he said.

She looked up at him and smiled coyly.

“A bed which is for sleeping.” He smirked and chuckled in a low tone.

As he pulled away from her to straighten up, she acted. She jumped up on the bed on her knees and pressed forward against his chest. Startled, he grabbed her with both arms to keep his balance and to keep her from falling forward off the edge of the mattress.

Hermione took her chance and lifted her face to his, pressing her lips against his closed ones. His arms still encircled her, her breasts pressed against his chest. She felt his chest easily against hers through his white shirt, though she bemoaned her own fuzzy Christmas jumper and wished she had removed it earlier.

It was a wonderful sensation to press her lips firmly against his. It was only a chaste kiss on the lips, however, and she began to pull away all too soon after not feeling a reaction from him. Just as her lips left his, she looked up into his eyes to see them gazing down at her. Dark, powerful waves crashing against the rocks. She felt his chest contracting deeply with his breathing, as if he were trying to still himself.

“Severus,” she breathed.

And with that, he was lost.

He let out a low growl and crashed his mouth back to hers, kissing her fervently. Hermione quickly became lost in the feeling of his lips moving against hers, in a dancelike movement. First quickly, urging a response from her, then slowly, forcing her to push back and speed up the sensuous pushes. He alternated his focus onto each of her lips, sucking and nibbling each, and tasting of red wine and chocolate.

His arms had pulled her to him completely so there was no air between them. Her hands had come up his chest, his firm neck, and settled behind his head, pressing him down into her lips. His hair was soft, rustling through her fingers as she moved them across his scalp, hearing him moan through her lips at the contact. She felt completely drowned in the sensation of him holding her and kissing her.

Severus began to draw away and she whimpered into his departing mouth. Every noise she made further undid his resolve to retreat. Her eyes fluttered open, and she peered up at him through her eyelashes as he returned to her again, her whimper causing a low melodic groan to release from his throat.

He pushed her back gently onto the bed, climbing atop her as he lay her down on her back. They did not cease kissing and she arched eagerly up into him as he pressed her down, her fingers continuing to dangle and knit themselves in the raven strands that fell around her face.

Her breasts rubbed against his chest, peaking her nipples and sending jolts of pleasure across her body. His hands moved from an innocent position behind her back to a far more precarious one, gripping her hips tightly through her jeans. He fell flush against her as they kissed, speeding up the dance between their lips as they panted and moaned in short breaths.

Hermione felt his hips rock against hers, deliciously pressing his hardness up against the gap between her thighs as she moaned into his mouth. His hands kept their place on her hips, only helping her grind up against his trousers in delectable friction. Every inch of her body tingled and burned simultaneously in heightened anticipation. Severus ground himself up and down, up and down, moving his hips in circles to rub the fabric of his trousers to her jeans, both of them sighing, groaning, and moaning through their kisses.

Hermione reveled in the sensation of his hands holding her to him, while she wriggled back in frantic desire. Up and down, up and down. His pelvis rocked against her, his hard trouser-hidden cock against her similarly hidden, wet lower lips. She knew this feeling well, but coming closer and closer to climax by another’s hands was by far more wonderful than any paltry thing she’d ever done to herself before.

She felt she could have wept in lust. Cried out for the missing sensation that was growing closer but still felt so far away. They’d removed no clothing and she was covered in sweat and overheated, but she couldn’t bear to move from the current pose. The warmth between her legs grew hotter and wetter and she pressed further up into Severus, never close enough. They ground against each other moaning.

“Oh…” kiss. “Yesss…” suck. “Please…” bite. “Severus!”

Severus groaned and pulled his mouth away from hers, lowering it to her neck. His hands continued to grip her hips tightly but he stilled their movement from helping his hips grind.

“Fuck, Hermione.” He hissed into her neck in his low voice, making her whimper in pained pleasure. “I am parched and starving yet you tempt me with a veritable banquet.”

Hermione wriggled, trying to get him to move his hands as she felt him exhale deeply. A hand could grip a breast, pinch a nipple through her sweater, grab her arse and thrust her upward- please, anything, anything.

Severus whispered something she missed in her lust-filled haze and he moved up slowly, her hands falling out of his hair and above her head and framing her face. He knelt above her on the bed and her eyes widened in appreciation at his dark eyes, kiss-puckered lips, and ruffled hair and clothing. He smiled down at her, a genuine smile it seemed, if somewhat heated.

“The sticking charm will wear off after fifteen minutes. Get some sleep.” She huffed in wide-eyed surprise and frustrated exasperation, but said nothing else, merely admiring his body as he raised himself up from the bed.

She heard him mutter something else that sounded like “torturer” as he made his way out of the room and closed the door.

The next morning, Christmas Day, Hermione woke late. Yawning and stretching, she padded around the room. Snow had blanketed the houses overnight, making even the dreary streets of the mill town appear as voluntary participants in the Yuletide cheer. Hermione had fallen asleep in her clothes the night before, so she grabbed her beaded bag and slipped into the hallway, looking for a shower.

Once freshly showered and sweet-smelling enough not to be embarrassed, she headed down the stairs. Severus was nowhere to be found, which she found especially strange on Christmas morning, but she decided not to despair and explore a bit. After perusing the kitchen and noting it empty of any real food and finding out that the stairway to the upstairs could be hidden behind a sliding bookshelf, Severus made his appearance through the front door. He entered dressed in muggle clothing, though still his typical black colour, and carrying a number of bags.

Hermione hurried over to help him. One bag was filled with breakfast treats (rolls, scones, and pastries) and another two held some produce items and other grocery essentials for cooking.

“Jewish bakery,” he pointed to the first bag, “and Asian market.” He gestured to the others. “Both open on Christmas.”

She smiled at him and helped put the groceries away in the kitchen before they both began digging into the baked goods. Severus made tea on the stove to go along with them, and the warm liquid helped warm Hermione in the chilly kitchen. They sat at a small table to eat and it felt both casual and intimate.

“I apologize for my tardiness, but I had a few places to be beforehand and then I had to get the food. I trust you slept well?” Severus looked at her appraisingly, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione flushed and nodded, noticing his upturned lips.

Tease, she thought. I could have slept a lot better if we’d finished what we started.

“What other errands did you run?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

“Before the shops, I went to inform Albus of the events of last night. As anticipated, he approves of the plan and suggests you return a few days before the start of term so that your absence on the train is explained by the early arrival.” He paused to eat a bite of blueberry scone and sip his tea, before continuing. “And before that I…” he hesitated as if debating whether to say more, before shrugging and relenting. “Before that, I went to church. It is Christmas, after all.” He ate another bite of scone as Hermione looked at him in bewilderment.

“I didn’t take you for particularly religious.”

“I am not particularly, but I am… exploring options.” She continued to look at him in puzzled disbelief and he scowled and grumbled at her. “Well, what is it? You think I’ve taken leave of my senses? You do celebrate Christmas yourself with family, do you not?”

“Yes, well… it’s more a cultural thing with my family, I think, as we’ve never really discussed theism as being important. I just thought… well, I thought magic precluded any religious belief, especially Christianity.”

Severus snorted. “The magical community is a community like any other. I have no idea of the statistical break up of religious believers versus non-believers and how it compares to muggle communities, but there are, and have always been, witches and wizards of all faiths. After all, haven’t you noticed the hospital is named St. Mungo, after the patron saint of the founding healer? There are probably more practitioners of Wicca and Paganism in the wizarding world than there are in the muggle world, but that is because those faiths have been far more open about their magical history. The other world religions certainly do have magical histories, but they are not widely known outside of the wizarding world.”

“That’s fascinating! Why have I never heard anything about it before?” She was gob struck at the wealth of knowledge she had omitted.

“I suspect it is something overlooked in muggleborn integration, as I was taught these things from a young age. It is only in recent generations that there have been so many muggleborns coming into our world, especially as purebloods were worried about maintaining their heritage and lobbied fiercely against muggleborn inclusion. It means that muggleborns were included reluctantly to begin with and there was not a lot of formal planning behind teaching cultural neophytes about the wizarding world. You notice that there is a Muggle Studies class to catch up students who know little about the muggle world, but you have no similar magical history or culture class to help fill in gaps in your own knowledge.”

Hermione nodded, frowning. “Yes, it’s part of the reason I’ve insisted on reading so much. Well, obviously I enjoy it as well, but I’ve always felt two or three steps behind everyone else and working to catch up. I’ve always felt I needed to prove I belonged here.”

Severus nodded seriously. “Ask your peers if you wish. The ones raised in the wizarding world may know some theomagical traditions. That of sponsoring or Godparenting is prevalent, for one.”

“Wait… so the fact that Sirius Black is- was- Harry’s Godfather…?”

“What, you think it was just a title? I believe they did the baptism in a good old Church of England parish, but I’m not sure whether it was a muggle or magical churchgoing community. If muggle, the theomagical part of the ceremony can always be private.”

Hermione couldn’t believe she had missed so much of magical history. Religious history hadn’t really been covered in History of Magic, only religion from the muggle and anti-magic perspective. This might have been to avoid deference to any one faith.

What did this all say about Severus, though?

“Is that…” Hermione hesitated, wondering how much she was allowed to pry. “Is that how you knew about the bakery? Are you Jewish?”

Severus stiffened visibly, pursing his lips. He was quiet for a moment before answering. “Religiously, no. It is in my blood, however, so it depends how you define it.” He looked down into his tea. “My father was a Jew.” He sneered and muttered in a self-deprecating way, “I thought the nose made it obvious.”

She ignored the quip about his nose. She loved it; she would convince him of its beauty later. “Oh, so you learned this kind of thing from-”

“Absolutely not. My father was a muggle who abhorred magic. He didn’t much care for Judaism either. My mother was more devout than he was, and it wasn’t even her faith to begin with.” Severus looked up from the teacup and sighed. “My parents had many problems, and they were not a happy couple. They were extremely ill-matched for multiple reasons, one of them being religion. Her mother’s family were Italian Catholics for generations, many graduates from l’Accademia.”

“L’Accademia?” Hermione recognized the Italian word from her mother’s studies. Academy, she knew, but she wanted Severus to speak more Italian words in that low, melodious tone.

He nodded. “L’Accademia degli Stragoni e Fattuchiere; the Italian wizarding school. The whole side of the family was Italian and all practitioners of Benedicaria, a theomagical Catholicism. Her mother, my grandmother, married an Englishman, but at least he was a Catholic wizard, so the family grudgingly accepted. My mother married a muggle Jew who wasn’t even religiously practicing, and she was subsequently disowned. It wasn’t only the magical differences, but the religious differences that caused her family to cast her out.”

Hermione listened, mouth wide. “That’s terrible! They disowned her for who she married?”

“They had a point,” Severus said grimly. “They went about it the wrong way, perhaps, but they were right that my parents were not a good match.”

“Where are they now?”

“Dead and gone.” She looked castigated for asking and he waved her off. “Think nothing of it. It was hard to mourn, truthfully. My father was a belligerent drunk and my mother was too quick to self-flagellate, taking his beatings as a punishment for marrying outside the faith. She converted for him, but that did nothing to gain his favour and only to add to her own guilt. She did teach me some about both religions, however, so that is to her credit.”

“You had a reaction though when I asked if you were Jewish,” Hermione said quietly, fearing a less than open-minded answer from him.

“I… I have not been asked in a long time… and I was disgusted with what my past response would have been.”

He rose then, retrieving a bottle from one of the lower kitchen cabinets. “I apologize, but the conversation seemed to call for it, and it is Christmas.”

He poured himself a full teacup of the bottle labeled Barsanuphius Wall’s Bourbon Whiskey. He gestured to her, offering it and she shook her head, continuing to sip her tea.

Severus drank a little from the cup before continuing. “In my youth, I was a bit of an anti-Semite. I transferred my hatred for my father and his failings onto hatred for the things he was- muggle and Jewish, among them. I also was quite the teetotaler for a while due to his alcoholism, which probably did me some good when I could have imbibed too much.” He smirked a little as he took a sip of his alcohol-filled cup, proving his disavowment for his past beliefs as he drank.

Hermione realized there was much more to Severus and to his past than she could even begin to guess at. Every interaction and conversation peeled back more layers to the man, even some uncomfortable bits she wasn’t sure she could fully accept, though she was still more than willing to try and desperate to know more.

This must be a peace offering, of sorts. She thought.

He wasn’t telling her the name of her potential kidnapper, something she desperately had wanted to know the night before, but he was telling her about himself. That had to mean something.

“Is that what drew you to Vol-” He glared. “I mean, You-Know-Who? I hadn’t heard him spouting anti-Semitic beliefs as well, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” One homicidal prejudice goes hand in hand with another, she thought.

Severus snorted and took another swig. “Not as such. He promised power, he certainly was anti-Muggle in his policies, but anti-Semitism never came up as far as I am aware. He was ever the opportunist and remains so. In the first war, there were both Jews among his ranks and Jews who fought against him. There was even one reformed Death Eater such as myself, still living in hiding now I believe. She could have rejoined two summers ago as a spy alongside me, but she was stymied by her husband’s desertion and later death.”

At Hermione’s puzzled look, he said, “Madame Karkaroff.”

Hermione gaped at him. “Karkaroff was married?”

“His wife didn’t come with him from Durmstrang for the Triwizard Tournament. It was she who ran the school in his absence, as I understand. She was probably the sole reason he lasted a year on the run from the Dark Lord.”

Severus shook his head, black hair slashing the air around him. “How did we get on this topic? See, there are benefits from abstaining from drink.”

“Umm... I think… Church?”

“Yes, that’s right. Church.” Severus finished the last of his bourbon whiskey. “I attended church this morning for Christmas Day service. As dissatisfied as I have been thus far with Christianity, I still find myself called to it. My mother had the same problem. She loved Judaism in her own way, but kept feeling called back to the faith of her youth.”

He got a wistful look in his eyes. “It was like love for her, you see,” he said quietly. “The one loved is not always the one most preferred. Sometimes we are drawn to those most unsuitable for us.”

“And…and faith is the same way?”

He nodded. “Just so.”

“But why Christianity? I mean…it’s so… I haven’t known Christianity to be open-minded. Rather prejudicial, in fact.” She flushed. She caught the irony herself after saying it, because that sounded a rather less than open-minded and somewhat prejudicial statement against an entire religion and its adherents.

Severus didn’t contradict her, however, and shrugged. “I have not been satisfied thus far, I admit. Yet I keep coming back. There are many theomagical practices I have not examined yet.”

“Why do you keep coming back? What are you drawn to?” Hermione asked eagerly, desperately wanting to know and absorb all this man was passionate about.

“Redemption.” He said firmly, meeting her eyes. “The idea that forgiveness of sins is possible, no matter how great. That there is a God who can forgive a man such as me… even if I fail to earn the right to it.”

Her heart cracked at this. Severus must have mourned and despaired at his own evil deeds often enough and long enough to keep searching for a dogma that would absolve him.

Hermione reached her hand out across the table and took his. “You are not such a bad man, Severus.”

“No, Hermione?” He said in his low tone, as he returned her gentle gaze with his steely-eyed one. “You know not what I have done, nor what I continue to do. Nor yet what I have already promised to fulfill.”

A heavy silence fell between the two at his words, and the ease of the conversation that had preceded was gone.

Severus rose, taking the plates and teacups off the table and placing them in the sink. Hermione sat watching as he rinsed the dishes the muggle way, setting them to dry in the drying rack. When he turned back to her, he had his cold, unreadable façade in place. Perhaps he had decided he had revealed too much and was done for the day.

“Come,” he said. “It is Christmas. I have none of the trappings, but I can make a fire to sit by and we can read.”

Hermione smiled up at him. That was Christmas to her.

When they had settled in chairs before the fire in the upstairs bedroom (for the downstairs was dirty and unappealing), Severus remarked on the present she had sent him. He hadn’t read it before, he said as he smirked. It wasn’t really his preference in the genre of science fiction, as it was less technology-oriented than most novels he read. However, he admitted wryly, it was the first in a series of well-written adventure stories by a classic author, so he was glad to try it.

Hermione grinned back at him before gasping that she should open his present to her. She quickly retrieved it from her beaded bag.

“Another first edition,” he murmured, as she opened the paper. “I apologize for my lack of originality. I know you have read it before.”

She opened up the paper to find a beautiful, hardback book with gold and silver filigree on the cover and spine. Hermione felt the hum of magic on it and realized the tome was spelled to prevent wear, tear, and damage from age, so it would keep in pristine condition.

“If you wish to be rid of the markings, they may be spelled off.”

She finally turned her attention to the title. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.

Hermione looked at Severus, beaming up at him. “I have read it, it’s one of my absolute favorites! I don’t have such a magnificent copy yet. Thank you so much!” She glowed with pleasure. Severus merely swallowed thickly and inclined his head politely.

They sat by the fire, a cordial distance apart, each reading the new book from the other. After a few minutes of comfortable quiet, Hermione became curious about the “markings” Severus had mentioned. She flipped through the pages of the novel, coming to one of her favourite scenes in which Mr. Rochester and Jane declare their feelings for one another.

Hermione read Rochester’s words to Jane:

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you--especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

Hermione sighed deeply, restraining herself from clutching the book to her chest in a romantic stupor. She looked back at the page, remembering why she had stopped here. The paragraph had been underlined in spiky black ink and there was writing on the margin of the page.

The cord has snapped; she is gone. I bleed and shall never be whole.

Hermione paused and glanced up at Severus, wondering if he had seen where her eyes had landed.

His eyes had not left his book, but his face held a dark expression, and his hands clenched the cover in a vice-like grip.

Chapter Text

The week following Christmas went by slowly for Hermione.

After ensuring there were sufficient provisions and a few pre-cooked meals available for consumption, Severus had made himself scarce. While Hermione did have her own library books and schoolbooks, as well as much of Severus’ own personal library at her disposal, the house was quiet and lonely, and she longed for the easy conversation of Christmas Day. After a few days, she realized that his manner on Christmas was indeed another type of present to her and not to expect it regularly, for she barely saw him apart for a few minutes of cursory check-in at the end of the night.

On New Year’s Eve, she had finally had enough and when he came through the Floo in the bedroom, she greeted him with a glass of the bourbon whiskey she had seen him drink on Christmas.

He looked at her askance. She was dressed up in a short black shimmery dress and heels, long-sleeved and low-backed, similar to the one she had worn to Slughorn’s party. Her curls were tamed, soft, and sweet-smelling and she smiled at him as she handed him the lowball glass.

Severus stared at it, then back at her. His eyes took in her attire, and he raised an eyebrow as they raked languidly over her figure. Hermione blushed but didn’t turn away.

Finally, he spoke. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“No, of course not. It’s New Year’s though, I thought we could celebrate.”

He stiffened, but only paused momentarily before inclining his head briefly. “I am on duty at the school tonight, so I will have to be available in case of emergency.”

He did leave the room briefly and return with his robes and frock coat held over his arm, however, so Hermione took encouragement at his attempt to relax by dressing down to button-up and trousers. He placed his outer clothing on the bed, sat himself stock-straight in the chair next to the fire, and looked up at her questioningly, as if waiting for her to set the tone of any “celebration”.

Hermione attempted to hand him the drink again and he relented, taking it. She held up her own glass and looked at him.

“A toast,” she said quietly. “To a new year.”

Severus stared at her, but obediently sipped a small amount to accompany her mouthful for courage. He put the glass down on a side table next to the chair, apparently not willing to drink more. Hermione continued standing but placed her drink down on the mantle.

“I was hoping,” she said in a manner she hoped was both effervescent and casual, “we could discuss our relationship.”

He said nothing, but she saw his eyes widen slightly and his pupils dilate. The look was gone in a flash, however, and his cold teacher mask was immediately in place.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

Hermione had anticipated something like this, so she barreled on with her pre-prepared argument. “I am seventeen, almost eighteen, so legal age is not a factor. I know I cannot tell you everything you asked to know yet, but that alone is evidence itself that I can be discrete. No one will find out about it, about us.” She licked her lips before meeting his eyes. “I will keep your secrets, Severus.”

Severus scowled at hearing his name again, still unused apart from the throws of passion. “You seem to forget, Granger, that I will be marking your papers next week. It is hardly the proper beginning of any…” he sneered, “…relationship.”

“Oh?” She said calmly, trying to hide her offense. “You were not thinking of marking my papers when you snogged me in your bed.”

He growled and rose out of the chair. “I do apologize for my lack of discretion on Christmas Eve. There had been an attempt to harm you and I was not at my most… composed.”

“Not composed, is that what you call it?”

“Bloody hell, woman! I had been scared out of my mind and was relieved to have you safe! Is that what you want to hear?” He turned his head away, hiding behind his fallen midnight hair. “I did not hear you complaining at the time,” he spat bitterly.

Hermione reached her arm out to his, placing her hand gently on his forearm. “I am not complaining,” she said. “I merely want clarification.”

“Without providing any of your own? How convenient.”

“I want you, Severus, I thought that was clear enough. You can’t even seem to decide firmly one way or the other!”

“It is not about what I want, Granger. Surely you are not so juvenile to think that our desires should always be met.” He sneered at her, glaring down. “You think your whinging can sway me? Do you throw a tantrum for your sweets as well?”

Hermione turned red and scowled at him, her pert nose wrinkling in fury. “How dare you! What do you think this is, Severus?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, knowing he was being deliberately cruel to dissuade discussion. Opening her eyes again, she shook her head as she spoke fervently to him. “I just want to know I’m not being…being used!” She flushed.

He barked a mirthless laugh, eyes cold. “I could say the same, Miss Granger. I am your professor, after all.” He stalked close to her, leering into her face. “If you are randy for a quick fuck from a Slytherin, there are plenty available students to sate your needs.”

Hermione’s arm pulled back and recoiled before springing. Just as her palm was about to collide with his cheek with a slap, Severus caught her wrist deftly in his left hand. He tugged on it and pulled her flush against him.

She was furious with him, blushing hotly, but cursing her body as she involuntarily reacted to him. The anger she felt was burning and mixing with rising desire, despite his insinuations. As angry as she was, she didn’t immediately pull away, always comforted by his embrace. Perhaps sensing this, Severus lowered her raised hand to her side before grabbing her buttocks with both hands, pulling her to him and rocking his hips against her.

Fuck, she thought, nearly groaning aloud. He feels so good.

 “You bastard,” she hissed, glaring up at him, not knowing what to do with her hands. She knew her hair must have frizzed up and out in her anger, ruining the soft curls. His eyes were dark and fiery, but she couldn’t tell if it was in passion or fury.

“What,” he whispered to her in a low tone, “don’t you want this? Isn’t this what you were asking for?” He pressed his pelvis down into hers as he pulled her arse up with his hands, grinding against her through the thin fabric of her dress. Hermione had to physically keep herself from reacting vocally. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him.

Severus lowered his mouth to her ear. “No mere student would do it for you, would they? You are Miss Know-It-All, and you desire a professor to teach you.”

She let out a muffled whimper that concealed a groan, still trying to hide her physical desire for him as her knickers became wetter beneath her dress. The black shimmery number had started riding up as he pressed her up into him, rubbing against her inner thighs through the fabric.

“Well, Miss Granger… let the lesson commence.”

He shuffled her slowly back towards the wall, keeping his hands firmly clenched on her arse cheeks and breathing roughly into her ear. Hermione bit her lip and clenched her hands at her sides, still unsure if she truly wanted to beat him away with her fists for his arrogance or pull him closer.

“If punishment is what you desire from your professor, I shall provide.” He pressed her back into the wall, continuing to grind his hips against her. “In detention… as an outlet for delinquent behavior, you will suck my cock to win your way back into my good favor.”

Hermione turned her head away from him and bit down harder on her lip, exhaling slowly through her nose as her lower body trembled and tingled. It wasn’t fair, what his words and voice did to her. It wasn’t fair that she wanted it.

“No? Of course. You do not like to be punished; you want praise.” Severus ground his hips against her slowly and she arched back against him now, breathing heavily, her body unable to keep the resolve she wished it to.

“Yesss,” he hissed against her ear. “No punishments for you, my sweet, only rewards.” He frotted against her, the movement against the wall helping push her breasts forward into his chest. He released one hand from her behind and brought it around to roughly cup her breast through the dress. Hermione arched into his hand. She gave up on biting her lip, opening her mouth for a silent moan. “As a most exemplary pupil, I reward you after class.” He squeezed the breast, using his thumb to find the nipple and press and flick it. “You shall sit on my desk and spread your legs so I can suck and lick your quim till you scream.”

“Ohhh,” she moaned, unable to remain silent any longer. Yes, all of that sounded quite lovely. Why hide the fact he aroused her?

“Good girl.” He growled, approving her vocalization. “Yesss.” He kissed his way down her neck, sucking and biting.

She raised her arms and held his biceps tightly, pulling him into her as she arched her neck up into his mouth. She brought her own mouth to his jaw to reciprocate and placed wet kisses down it to his neck and throat. She heard him raspily moan into her ear. He moved both hands back down to her arse, squeezing the cheeks and pulling her furiously into his lower body. Severus rubbed his cock against her faster, her dress rising higher up her hips.  

“Ohhh…Oh yes…Sev- Severus…mmff…” She panted frustratedly against his skin, her mouth open. Her face was burning and curly hair frizzing out dangerously, covered in sweat.

He lifted his head away from her ear and she followed suit, removing her mouth from him. Their eyes met, unbridled desire on both their faces.

He snarled at her in a terrifying yet erotic way, his eyes wide and dark. “And after you’ve pleased your professor. What then? Some new conquest? A new fucktoy?”

Hermione’s breath hitched.

She clenched his biceps with her fingernails. “Stop,” she whispered hoarsely.

He did not appear to hear her at first. His eyes had closed, and he continued to rub against her lower half, and she could feel his hard manhood through her drenched knickers and the sheer dress fabric. It felt glorious and she had to force herself to speak again instead of gasping.

“Stop.” She said more clearly, pulling herself together. She pushed him lightly on his arms where her hands lay.

He stiffened and stilled immediately.

His sneer evaporated rapidly at her words, no trace of it remaining on his face. He turned his head away from her, hiding behind his black hair and trying to calm his fast breathing.

His pelvis shifted back, and she nearly protested. She felt him unclench his hands on her buttocks, relaxing them into flat palms. He began to remove them to pull away from her, but she reached behind her with both hands and kept his wrists from moving.

“Look at me, Severus,” she said firmly, as she held his wrists to keep his hands in place on her rear. He could hardly hide, pressed up against each other as they were.

Slowly, he turned his head back to her.

His mouth was downturned slightly and his eyes were wide and sorrowful. Severus had trouble meeting her gaze. He appeared chagrined, embarrassed, and remorseful all at once. Hermione had never seen such a look on him, almost puppy doglike.

“Severus…” She said his name in a soft, hushing tone. She moved her hands, sure now that he wouldn’t pull away, and brought them up to his face, cupping it gently. Hermione rubbed her thumbs soothingly against his skin until he met her gaze.

“Severus, I…” She swallowed slowly, not wanting to admit to too much and scare him. “When you asked me to tell you everything, I didn’t know what you meant by… my intentions.”

Hermione had thought at the time that by “intentions” he was referring to the reason behind her desire, demanding to know whether she was seducing him for information or by her own volition. Perhaps he was asking this of her as well, but apparently, he also wanted to know what she intended this relationship to be. What are your intentions with me? Am I to be used and discarded?  He had been saying.

How sweet, she couldn’t help but thinking, her heart melting for him. He’s a romantic.

Her hazel eyes shimmered up at him, gaze open and bared.

“My intentions aren’t only sexual… you must know that.” She reddened slightly but didn’t look away, deciding to say nothing about how long-term her intentions had actually become.

He looked back at her silently, dark eyes drawing her in. “When I tell you that I want you, it’s not because you’re my professor, and it’s not because there are no other options.” She said quietly.

“Potter? Weasley? McLaggen?” Severus whispered, wide-eyed, no hint of malice.

“I prefer you.”

He did not answer that. She removed her hands from his cheeks and placed them gently around his neck, holding him as if they were dancing.

“Not that I could know what it would be like,” she admitted with a half-smile at him and a raised eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood, “but I think I should fancy you even if you weren’t my professor at all. Even if we were both professors, or neither. Even if we were both students.”

He startled her by sliding slowly downward instead of pulling out and away, and she didn’t know how to react. He released her and slid down to land at her feet on his knees, head hanging down.

She heard his muffled reply from above.

“I know.” Severus whispered contritely. “I am sorry, Hermione. Forgive me.”

She lowered herself to the floor and pulled him to her, resting his head against her breast and calmly stroking his hair. She sat back against the wall as he curled up against her. He held her tightly around the waist and gave deep shuddering breaths. Oh, my darling, she nearly whispered to him. Oh, my Severus, it’s alright. I would never discard you. You are so dear to me already.

“Nothing can happen yet,” he mumbled into her dress. Hermione shushed him and continued stroking his hair. “I mean it, Hermione. Nothing yet. I lose myself each time we are together, but it cannot continue.”

“I know, Severus. I can wait.”                                                                

Can I? Can I really? She rolled her eyes inwardly at her own lack of patience.

To herself as well as to him, she said calmly, “For you, I will wait.”

Severus clutched her tighter and turned his face completely into her dress. His shoulders shook and his breath came in almost silent rasps. Tears ran down her cheeks unbidden as she realized he was sobbing into the fabric.

They held each other like that, ringing in the new year.

If Hermione had hoped that her Professor Snape would be unable to keep his promise to stay away, she was sorely mistaken. Once she was delivered back to Hogwarts after the new year, he avoided her like the plague. She could only think fondly of how he had held her hand through the Floo. Once he delivered her to Gryffindor tower and checked no one was around, he grabbed her hand again and raised it to his lips for a gentle kiss. His eyes never left hers, sending her heart fluttering.

“Good day, Miss Granger,” he said, ever the gentleman. She wished he were a scoundrel again.

After a letter to her parents to check in, Hermione determinedly threw herself into books and other studies over the next few days before the term began. Not only these, but the remaining extraneous tasks on her “Order Mission” list that had gone unfulfilled were now beginning to be addressed. She had tried searching through the library archives for the Half-Blood Prince and found only an E. G. Prince, which she was able to definitively confirm was the same as Eileen Prince, Captain of the Gobstones team. She resolved to mention the name to Harry when she saw him, but when he arrived at Hogwarts, he had news to share.

Harry explained the bits of conversation he had overheard between Snape and Malfoy the night of the Christmas party, and Hermione deflected his concerns, sure that Severus was merely acting the part of the loyal spy. She filed the information away for later, however. Then there was his conversation with Rufus Scrimgeour, Harry’s conversations with Remus over dinner at the Burrow, the two of them figuring out that Malfoy knew the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, and further speculation on Malfoy’s death eater connections. Hermione’s guilt at keeping her own Christmas holiday events hidden (on orders from both Severus and Dumbledore) was overshadowed by the new information she now was sifting through and analyzing in her head.

Harry had something else for her.

“Here,” Harry said, handing her an envelope. “It’s from Remus. He couldn’t write you back earlier; he said he’s been away for months living with the werewolves and only just got his mail over Christmas.”

Hermione smiled at him and nodded, taking the envelope and pocketing it to be read later.

“Look, Hermione… about Ron-”

“No, Harry, I already told you. You can’t be apologizing for him as well. He can be a big boy and do it himself if he means it.”

“I know, I just…” He sighed. “I hate being the go-between. I love you both, you know.”

“I know.” She smiled gently at him.

“Hermione…” Harry lifted his hand and ruffled his messy, black hair nervously. “I was just hoping you and Ron could make up sooner rather than later. You know, just in case…” he sighed. “Just in case. I’ve been dreading something since Cedric died, but now that Sirius is gone, everything has been weighing on me. I just don’t want you two at odds in case anything were to come up this year too.”

Hermione reached over to him and rubbed the back of his arm soothingly. “Don’t worry about us, Harry. I’m sorry,” She whispered, more waves of guilt hitting her over her preoccupation the previous weeks, “I hadn’t been thinking of how you felt; I’ve just been… angry at Ron. I’ll be here if you need to talk about anything… you know, if there’s anything weighing on you.”

He nodded and pulled her in for a hug. Hermione made a resolution to give Harry more of her time the coming semester. Perhaps that would help her not to think about Severus.

Once alone in her room, she pulled out the letter from Remus.

Dear Hermione,

Thank you for your letter. I am as well as can be expected, though I have been traveling frequently on business, and it can be a bit lonely. I hope you and your friends are doing well, especially in my own previously taught subject. Do know that I am always here to talk if you need it about school or business, though it may be easier to do so after you are acquainted with our other associate.

I am sorry to hear Nymphadora is not doing well. I have not seen her in a few months, but I thought we parted on good terms and I hold no ill will towards her about anything. If you see her again before I do, give her my friendly regards.

Best,

Remus

As the new term began and classes reconvened, Hermione tried to break herself of the habit of waiting for notes at breakfast. The first few days were admittedly difficult, especially as Severus wouldn’t meet her eyes across the hall, but she practiced gritting her teeth and chanting ‘patience, patience, patience' in her head.

On the ninth she overheard Professor Sprout giggling to Hooch about Snape’s increased glower that would happen every year on his birthday, as evidenced by his foul mood that morning. Hermione gave up on pretense then and showed up at his office that night to wish him a happy birthday. She had no present for him, though did debate presenting herself for him to unwrap before deciding against it, and merely offered a smile and a quick hug. He glowered through the hug but did accept it, tensing up as he did. Afterward, he opened his desk drawer and removed a book, handing it to her.

“But this is backward! I’m supposed to have something for you!” She cried indignantly.

He shrugged. “This is for me, of a sort. Take it, read it cover to cover as you do, but then go back and peruse slowly.”

She picked up Socrates Wallingham’s Occlumency as a Natural Meditation: Closing and Opening the Mind, Heart, and Soul.

“Thank you.”

“I trust you can borrow Potter’s copy of the Advanced Guide to Occlumency?”

She smiled wryly. “I already have.”

“Good girl. Read this one too.”

She flushed at his praise before frowning in thought. “Why didn’t you give Harry this one as well?”

“He didn’t make it that far.” He scowled. “But you know all about that.” At her narrowed eyes, his brows raised slightly. Quickly, he schooled his face to a blank slate and continued speaking. “You will need this to help protect vital information from falling into the wrong hands. If I thought Weasley capable of it, I would insist on him learning as well. Potter tells the both of you everything, does he not?” Severus nodded briefly and waved her out after she slipped the book into her bag. “Good evening, Miss Granger,” he said loudly as she opened the door.

Don’t worry, Severus. She said to herself, trying not to skip down the corridor. I’ll learn how to keep your secrets safe.

Hermione threw herself into her schoolwork over the next few weeks, capping the days by waking up early and staying up late reading the Occlumency books and meditating. It was a welcome distraction from thinking about Severus, even if her eyes did still seek him out often. Having her days fully occupied left her little time for physical distraction and she gladly collapsed into the bed at night and fell asleep quickly, too exhausted to longingly fantasize or work out any separation anxiety.

Ron was still being ignored, though she would tolerate his presence for longer stints of time with merely a disgusted look, if only for Harry’s sake. She was mindful to keep a closer eye on Harry from now on, even if it involved Ron being in the room at the same time. At least he seemed to be tiring of Lavender.

Soon after Apparition lessons began, and January drearily morphed into February, Hermione and Severus became tired and bored of distancing themselves. Severus began to meet her eyes regularly across mealtimes once more. After the first few times, he held his gaze the next time and she felt a jolt to her head as he attempted to enter her mind. The meditation exercises she had gotten from the book he had given her had prepared her and she was able to throw him out of her mind sharply, slamming down the shields she had learned how to put in place.

After the next Defense class, he called for her to stay back.

“Sir?”

He motioned for her to approach. Once she was at the desk and the other students had filed out, he spoke. “You are not doing it correctly,” he said, looking up at her and half hiding behind his hair. “It’s too strong. You need to close your mind, but not like slamming a door.”

“What then?” She said indignantly. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Severus snarled at her. “In the least subtle way possible. If I had truly wanted to break through, I could have, and it would have hurt.”

He straightened and met her eyes. “You have been completing the meditative exercises? Then you should understand that it is most natural to treat the mind, heart, soul as you would the rest of the body and personality when you are guarding information. A job interview is not a round of drinks at the pub, nor is a formal cocktail party an intimate dinner for two. One is naturally more guarded and cautious about their words and actions in certain settings and more honest and open in others. Occlumency works in a similar way. It is physically draining to never let your shields down in any way, or to keep them so tightly closed in anticipation of all breaches. Additionally, it is a clear signal you are hiding something. No, far better is to build up layers of protection based on different settings you may find yourself in.”

“Sir,” Hermione said pointedly, leaning close with a bit of a smirk on her face. “I cannot truly be unguarded in any setting with the information I am keeping hidden.”

Severus scowled before whispering, “And who would you tell about… us?”

“No one!” She said quickly, eyes wide. “That is,” she corrected, “no one without your consent. Not now at any rate, maybe-” She bit her lip.

No, better not say “in a few years”.

He ignored her cut off, merely nodding sharply. “Of course. Then that information would not be concealed behind the most accessible shield, but there would be other information that would be easily obtained. You are a student, you are in Gryffindor, you are taking multiple N.E.W.T. level courses. This should all be freely available information in your mind, just as you do not hide that reality from anyone around you who observes you on a daily basis. As the data becomes more intimate and secretive, so do the protections behind Occlumency shields. Surely you understand the difference in information you would tell strangers, acquaintances, classmates, friends, relatives…intimate partners?”

“So, I should just let anyone read my mind and give them unimportant tidbits about myself?”

“If they introduced themselves, you might give them the same in conversation. Rather, if there are any Legilimens who are casually looking, the fact that trivial information is not readily accessible will only draw attention to you. This is how you would begin to fool a master Legilimens, by knowing which memories are on the outer planes of the mind that may be comfortably accessed by strangers and casual acquaintances. Then you may plant certain inconsequential memories on deeper planes of the mind, so the intruder believes he has uncovered a secret where there is none, you may move some important memories to the outer plane so the Legilimens believes you have no training in Occlumency, and you may decide which trains of thought you wish the viewer to view and follow.”

Hermione understood, making a mental note to practice opening and closing access to her mind and moving memories across access planes during her meditation tonight. Something he said bothered her a bit though.

“And you, Severus?” Hermione said quietly. “Am I to teach myself to treat you as if you are a stranger? A mere casual acquaintance?” The mind, heart, and soul worked in varying degrees of unity, after all. Severus had already accessed the inner layers of her heart and it would require vast degrees of concentration to keep him locked out of her mind, especially if there were things she wanted him to know.

Severus looked at her, dark eyes shining. He kept his face blank. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. I am your professor, and you will address me as such.” She couldn’t help the hurt look that seeped across her face.

“This setting is a classroom, and I am your instructor.” He turned back to the scrolls of parchment on his desk. “Keep up your shields, Granger.”

Horcruxes!

Hermione slammed down another book, furious that she could find nothing at all written on them in the library.

Harry had shared the word with her after a recent meeting with Dumbledore, revealing that he needed to get Professor Slughorn to reveal what he knew about them and what he had told the student Tom Riddle. Despite Hermione’s best efforts to persuade him otherwise, Harry had bluntly confronted Slughorn after Potions Class. A class in which Harry had acted the cheeky golden boy and simply presented a bezoar to Slughorn instead of doing the actual work of brewing antidotes like everyone else.

She had given up on Horcruxes. Really, the reason she was in the library was avoiding Ron.

It was Ron’s birthday, it had been months since they had spoken in any kind of civil manner, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to make up. She had the Christmas present to give him now, if he wanted to offer the olive branch himself, but she did not want to bend without any sign from him of repentance. Heck, even Severus Snape had apologized to her more clearly than Ronald Weasley. If that wasn’t a sign he was remiss, then what was?

Hermione decided to pull out the Hogwarts’ lists again to search for the Half-Blood Prince that had been showing her up in Potions class. If Harry had let her look at his book again, she thought she might be able to deduce more about the mysterious owner. It had been months since she had gotten a proper look at the textbook; Harry knew she was sick of his pretense at being a good student and he had been clutching it to his chest and hiding it away from her gaze at every opportunity. Hermione was probably one more class away from stealing it.

Prince, Prince, Prince. Oh whoops, wrong page. Just-

Hermione’s heart stopped. What?

She had been flipping through the library’s copy of the Book of Names (personal information redacted in this edition of course), Volume P and had alighted on the incorrect page. Just as she was about to keep turning, her eyes flew- almost by an unknown magnetic draw- towards a name.

A. H. Perri – Class of 1978

Hermione stared at it, wide-eyed and shocked for a brief moment. She looked around her quickly, as if to ensure the new-found information was safe from prying eyes.

Yes, it was right there, she hadn’t imagined it. She searched further down the same page and found P. E. Pettigrew- Class of 1978.

Hermione pulled the sapphire pendant necklace out from under her shirt and stared at the H engraved on it. She tried to recall the words from the letter her Mum had sent a few months back.

As I’m sure you remember, Grandmum’s maiden name was Perri…

I have recently come across some family heirlooms from my mum’s side… including one from my great-aunt Anna Hélène Perri… as family stories have it, she was always a bit eccentric…

It’s not a Gryffindor red, but sapphire is the September birthstone, and the H for Hélène could easily stand for Hermione…

Her fingers clutched the necklace as she glanced back at the book, her thoughts whirling rapidly in her head.

Could she have really been a witch- but no, the time period doesn’t match up at all, she was your own great-great-aunt and grandmum’s godmother, yes it could just be a coincidence, Perri isn’t all that uncommon a name, is it…but the same year that Pettigrew graduated would be the same year that the Potters did, but… could it be possible I’m not really a muggleborn? Or could- NO, no no, it couldn’t mean-

“HERMIONE!”

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a loud yell. The few other library patrons looked up from their texts and frowned. Madam Pince was not in sight, but if she had heard then Hermione might get banned for life. Quickly, she shut the book and grabbed her bag, jumping up and looking for the source of the yell. Ginny ran into view, panting.

“Hermione, come quick- I knew I’d find you in the library.” Ginny grabbed her by the elbow and started dragging her out.

“Ginny!” She hissed. “What is going on?”

“Ron. No time. Come.”

Hermione frowned, but quickened her pace.

Two hours later, she was sitting in the Hospital Wing with Harry and the other Weasleys, surrounding Ron’s bed. Hermione had been crying bitterly.

Harry was right again. Here she and Ron were, fighting over something stupid, both having offended each other plenty of times, and Ron nearly died without a reconciliation. He might be a prat, but she wanted him to be her friend at least. Hermione wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he had died when she hated him.

Plus, Harry had saved him by shoving a bezoar down his throat- the same trick he had learned from that Half-Blood Prince she so despised. Now she wouldn’t be stealing the book.

However, she would be doing something else.

This could have been prevented. Next time, someone could die.

Hermione gritted her teeth and tried to keep calm as her tearful relief turned quickly to fury.

She would be giving Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore a piece of her mind.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore couldn’t sleep.

He was pacing his office quietly, having not gone to bed after his late meeting with Severus.

A long day indeed.

Severus was having doubts. “I can’t do it anymore, Albus,” he had said earlier that afternoon. It was imperative that Severus went through with the plan, all of it.

The old man sighed wearily. He had been in daily, excruciating pain since the summer when he had blackened his hand. He would die, and Severus needed to be the one to do it. Severus was having trouble, however. He was growing restless, wheedling for information that he never needed to before.

Despite the headmaster’s claims of distributing his eggs to multiple baskets, it was a lie. All his eggs lay in the basket of Severus Snape. If Severus Snape failed to play the successful double agent, all Albus Dumbledore’s well laid plans would go to waste, and what would happen then?

So of course, after seeing Severus’ distress that afternoon, knowing he would have to confront Draco about poisoning Weasley and play-act questioning his other students for a patsy to place the blame on, Dumbledore invited him to his office that evening for another chat.

He revealed that Harry must die in the end.

Albus could not understand Severus’ reaction. He had come to care for the boy? Even Albus’ care for the boy could not set aside what must be done.

Then, Severus revealed his motivation.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Albus was stunned.

“Severus… after all this time?”

The doe Patronus leapt around the office, wide-eyed and curious, before fading gently away.

“Always.”

Severus left shortly afterward, promising he would fulfill his duty before he stormed out of the office. His duty distressed him, this is true, but he would do it. He would do it for her, just as he had done everything else.

Albus finally stopped pacing and sat at his desk. He pulled open one of the drawers, leaving the time-turner aside and pulling out a scrap of parchment.

He would have to think on it further, but it might not be utterly ridiculous to send Hermione Granger on that mission now. He was starting to understand why he would do it. Why he might do it. He wasn’t committed yet.

Albus looked down at the scrap of parchment, reading what was on it. First the dates, then…

Protect Lily Evans Potter with your life.

Yes, this would explain it. Why Severus despised Granger so much- she had failed at the mission to protect the woman he loved, hadn’t she? Severus still held a candle for Lily after all this time.

But it was necessary to fail at this mission, wasn’t it? Voldemort had fallen once before with Lily’s death and the timeline had turned out the way it had, yes? So… failing wouldn’t be a failure if it needed to happen.

Dumbledore frowned, trying to puzzle it out.

Time travel was always muddy.

“Not now.” Severus hissed at her in the darkened corridor. “Ten points from Gryffindor. I am being exceedingly lenient.”

Hermione moved forward out of the shadows. “Severus. Yes now.”

He snarled at her and grabbed her arm, pulling her into a window alcove. He fluidly set up a few silencing charms before rounding on her.

“You cannot begin to know the kind of day that I have had, Granger. I have no time for whatever inanities you have to dispel.”

“Fine,” she snarled back, “I’ll be quick! You and Dumbledore sat on that information since Christmas and Ron was nearly killed! Who is it that is smuggling cursed objects, trying to kidnap students, poisoning bottles of mead?! Harry is convinced that it’s Malfoy and he’s going to start following him everywhere, not that he wasn’t already starting to.” She had only barely managed to pry the map out of his hands as he slept to sneak out and wait for Snape in the corridor.

Severus scowled and ran his hand through his hair, turning away from her as she continued. “Tell me my friends and I will be protected. I haven’t told anyone about Christmas Eve, but I’ve half a mind to do it. No! NO, I mean the portkey, not… not the rest.” She looked a bit chagrined to make him think she would betray him.

“It will not…” Severus sighed. He turned back to her. “Slughorn received the mead a few months ago. This was a delayed response.”

“Tell me there will be nothing else.” She said firmly, meeting his eyes. “Tell me we will be safe here at Hogwarts at the least! My parents are asking for letters every few days just to be sure I’m alright. I can’t have this happen again. Tell me!”

“I CANNOT!” He roared, shocking her to silence. “If you think I have any more control over this situation than you do, then you are sorely mistaken! I cannot tell you that your idiotic friends will be protected, I cannot ensure your own continued protection, I cannot sway the dunderheaded bumbler who is committing these crimes, I cannot persuade our esteemed Headmaster to abandon his puppet show, and I cannot remain unaffected in this face of this!”

He raised his fist and she winced before he drove it into the wall. She heard a small crack, but Severus’ face remained hard and unflinching.

Severus breathed quickly through his nose, attempting to calm himself.

Hermione slowly raised her hands to his face and turned it to look at her. She brought his head slowly down, resting his forehead on hers. Then she moved her hands around his neck, lightly threading her hands in his hair and holding him.

“Don’t then,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Severus. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He closed his eyes and relaxed somewhat, removing his hand from the wall and slowly encircling her waist. It was a chaste, polite hold, but she was glad of it.

“If you can do nothing else,” she whispered again, gazing up at his closed eyes, “can you at least take comfort from me?”

Severus opened his eyes slowly, pulling her heart apart layer by layer with his piercing dark eyes.

He simply gazed at her for a few moments, warring with himself.

“No.” He replied in his low, dulcet tone. “Even this, I cannot do.”

Yet despite his words, he moved his head and kissed her lips. She hadn’t yet had this kind of kiss from him. It was slow and sweet, given with care. Hermione closed her eyes and let herself be slowly moved with him, rocking gently and peacefully.

It felt like a first kiss. She opened her eyes. Or a last.

He moved away just as she looked up questioningly. Her arms fell slowly as he withdrew.

“Come back to me, Hermione.” He said quietly. “Come back and be my comfort then.”

Then he was gone, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts yet again.

Chapter Text

Ron spent the next few days in the Hospital Wing recovering and Harry and Hermione visited at every opportunity. They had decided to forgo any apologies from either party, and Hermione started with Ron on a blank slate. She had missed him terribly as a friend the past few months, and she was feeling burdened by all the secrets she was keeping.

That weekend, the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match ended disastrously for Gryffindor with McLaggen ruining the game and ensuring Harry’s weekend stint in the Hospital Wing alongside Ron. Hermione took the opportunity when Harry was away from the Marauder’s Map to pay a visit to Dumbledore, who had not yet gotten an earful from her about the poisoning.

This was how she found herself standing in front of his desk for the first time in months as he frowned and looked up at her in contemplative silence.

“Headmaster, I must implore you to reconsider keeping the perpetrator’s identity secret,” she said, having rehearsed this somewhat. “From the little that I’ve deduced based on what happened on Christmas Eve, you and Professor Snape have a strong indication as to who is committing these attacks on students. I just don’t think it can be prudent to keep this information hidden any longer when I was nearly kidnapped- or worse- and Ron nearly died from poisoning. Katie Bell was sick for weeks as well, and I just think-”

“Miss Granger,” the headmaster said quietly. “I am glad that you, Miss Bell, and Mr. Weasley have not sustained lasting harm. Professor Snape believes that there is no longer a danger of attacks against individual students.”

“But even if there were,” she blurted out, “he couldn’t prevent it, could he?”

Dumbledore looked back at her for a moment before inclining his head slightly. “No, you are correct. He would inform me of what he knew, but he might not be able to prevent it.”

“You are putting us all in an impossible situation, sir,” Hermione said quietly, willing herself not to cry. She felt like she had to argue on behalf of Severus as well, not only the students. She had seen what the knowledge was doing to him.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her then. “Why Miss Granger, are you concerned about your Professor?”

Hermione blushed furiously, not expecting this.

“I… he… he saved me, sir. He is a good man, and I can’t help but be thankful to him. I admire his bravery and dedication…” Among other qualities. “…and I am concerned for the burden he bears.”

He nodded and slowly rose to his feet, walking around the desk leisurely and looking around the room at the portraits and objects around the wall, as if they would indicate what he should say next.

“I have been wondering about your next assignment, Miss Granger.”

Hermione’s ears perked up. She had completely forgotten! This is what Future-Hermione had warned her she needed. Wasn’t she supposed to blackmail her way to getting this though?

“I am still not completely convinced you are the person for the job, but I will allow you to plead your case now.” He said genially.

Before Hermione knew what was happening- before her brain could catch up with her mouth- the same thing that had occurred back in his office the last time happened again. Hermione spoke and it was as if there was no explanation for her speech but that it had already happened this way or that it was meant to. The thought had already occurred to some other version of Hermione in some other time, so it didn’t matter that this present Hermione didn’t think before she spoke. The words tumbled out of her mouth on their own volition. She hoped the words tumbled, at least, and didn’t get vomited out like slugs.

“I know about the wand.”

Dumbledore’s eyes snapped up to hers. He frowned. He looked almost worried.

“Go on.”

No, it definitely felt like word vomit.

“In May 1998, when I followed Voldemort and his snake to retrieve the venom from the rat, I heard him talking about a problem he was having about Harry and… the wand.” Hermione stopped there, no longer feeling any compulsion from some unknown source.

“Well, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore whispered. “What else did you discover?”

Ah ha. Hermione felt a Severus Snape smirk coming on and she did her best to hide it.

“I believe you were telling me about my next assignment, sir?”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed. “I am serious, Miss Granger. This is of vital importance.”

“I believe the other mission with the time-turner is as well, sir.” She said quietly, trying not to grin.

“I will not ask again.”

“I will tell you when I return, sir.”

For a flash of a moment, Albus Dumbledore appeared to be furious- angered to the point of violence, perhaps. It was an expression that faded immediately, not remaining long enough to even allow Hermione to register it and be frightened by it.

It was replaced by a look of impressed bewilderment.

Dumbledore shrugged and smiled.

“I suppose that is evidence enough that you are up to the challenge of this mission.” He said.

Dumbledore brought a hand up to stroke his beard and mustache, looking upward to the ceiling as he did so. After a pause, he gestured for her to sit before his desk as he came back around it. Hermione came in front of the chair, but continued standing, still on the alert.

He opened a drawer and pulled out the adapted time-turner Hermione recognized from her Order mission back in September, as well as a scrap of parchment.

He handed the parchment to her.

Hermione looked down at the parchment and kept herself from gasping.

She thought if she opened her mouth too soon, she might throw up all over it.

“1977?” She whispered in disbelief. “I- I thought…”

She had thought she would be going back less than two years to leave the antivenin at St. Mungo’s for Mr. Weasley. She had felt so damn clever about having pieced it all together, too.

Hermione started to feel a little bit dizzy and numbly lowered herself into the waiting chair behind her.

“I don’t understand, sir.” She said.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I think you will need to be prepared, Hermione. As you can see by the dates, we have some time before you need to leave. When the day comes, you will need to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, even if you are to be pulled out of class or gotten out of bed in the middle of the night.”

Hermione nodded, her mind still trying to grasp the heaviness of what lay before her. Skipping a year or two and potentially getting stuck was unfortunate, but it was not so far away from her present time that it was undoable. This long, however? It was 20 years.

She looked down again.

Protect Lily Evans Potter with your life.

Hermione took a deep breath.

“Am I meant to die, sir?” She said shakily. “Or… or are you trying to send me to change the timeline?”

Dumbledore looked at her appraisingly. “No, Hermione,” he said, addressing her familiarly to show the gravity of the situation. “I am not.”

“Why would you give me such a mission then?” She asked, wide-eyed. She was still too shocked to be angry at this, but it came out a little more bitterly than she felt.

“I can only guess at the wording,” he replied calmly. “It is you who wrote that and gave it to me to pass on.”

“I don’t suppose you will reveal the exact circumstances behind that?” Hermione answered flatly.

Dumbledore smiled, somewhat infuriatingly, thought Hermione. “Astute as always.”

He reached for the bowl on his desk and offered her a candy, which she took, needing something to do to avoid fidgeting or shaking.

“However,” he continued after she began sucking on the lemon drop, “I will tell you my guess at the wording.” His eyes flashed and he peered down at her above his half-moon spectacles. “I can see that you care for Professor Snape’s wellbeing. This mission is to do with him.”

Hermione frowned as she listened, her brow furrowing and nose wrinkling.

“You see, Hermione, I believe that I- rather, we- can trust your discretion. You have not told Harry of the events which occurred on Christmas, nor of your suspicions about the culprit behind the attacks. I trust you will keep this information just as private.” It was a question, she realized, as he paused waiting for her answer. She nodded emphatically, not wanting to interrupt.

“Professor Snape is a spy against Voldemort. Due to his position, he has many requirements that are… less than pleasant. Soon, however, he will have some tasks that are an unthinkable burden.”

“You are correct that I care for his wellbeing, sir. I will do what I can to lighten the burden.” Hermione said levelly.

“Based on your actions here, I see you understand the necessity of sometimes… withholding and granting information at appropriate times.” Blackmail and Extortion, Hermione translated internally. “I am afraid I have, in my use of this technique, miscalculated the motivation behind Professor Snape’s continued cooperation. It is an exceedingly heavy burden, and I do not wish him to break under the weight of it.”

Hermione tried to keep herself calm in this moment, but she began to stiffen and seethe.

You want my help in blackmailing Severus. You want my help in keeping him in line. He is a loyal and honourable man. He would never shirk from his duty without cause. What the bloody hell are you trying to get him to do.

Her eyes flashed at the headmaster. “Please explain, sir. What does Lily Potter have to do with Professor Snape’s… burden?”

“This is not to leave this room. You may not mention it to Severus, either.”

“We have already established this,” Hermione said coldly.

Dumbledore had a strange look on his face then, almost appearing guilty. It was gone as quickly as it came. “I tell you this reluctantly. Severus swore me to secrecy many years ago, but I fear… I think revealing it cannot be helped. I think also that I have strangely… that I have already told you this… or at any rate, that you have already heard it from me. Time travel has a strange way of making these things unavoidable.”

He cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. Hermione met his eyes, determined to absorb everything.

“Severus Snape loved Lily Evans, even after she became Lily Potter. They grew up together and were friends in school before he joined the Death Eaters. Due to his devotion to her, he turned spy against the Death Eaters in order to protect her from Voldemort, and he set himself up as a teacher at the school in order to play double agent for the Order of the Phoenix. She is the reason he finds himself in the precarious position he is currently in.”

Hermione was surprised, but… surprisingly enough to herself, she was not shocked.

Hermione knew by now that Severus was a deeply passionate man, capable of devotion and risking himself for another, and that he had a past she could not have guessed at. Professor Slughorn had mentioned that Severus had been Potions lab partners with Lily when they were in school, so she knew they had been friends at some point.

Yes, she thought grimly, this probably was not a good thing to tell Harry.

“What I did not account for, however,” Dumbledore continued, “was that she remains his current motivation. I did not realize his love for her had endured all these years. Through marriage to another and through death, I knew. Yet it has been many years, and time is known to heal these things.”

Unbiddenly, Hermione felt a sour, sickening feeling rise in her throat. It became harder to swallow and her chest constricted painfully.

“His current motivation?” She said hoarsely.

Dumbledore nodded, not seeing her distress, or not acknowledging it if he did. “Yes, I was surprised as well. I saw his Patronus the other night and he confirmed it when I questioned him.”

Hermione did show some look of confusion that he noticed then, and he chuckled lightly. “Yes, a Patronus can be an indication of many things, such as an allegiance to a goal, or devotion to a person. It often changes when a person’s deepest beliefs or feelings change. Love is one example- not the feelings of passion, but the fidelity that accompanies action.”

“I did not know that was the reason behind it changing,” Hermione responded weakly, her own voice sounding foreign to her. Maybe it was love for Tonks that caused her Patronus change too.

“I’m sure you know Harry’s Patronus?”

“A stag.”

“Yes, just as his father James’ was. Lily’s Patronus was a doe. So is Professor Snape’s.”

Hermione nodded, eyes wide and mind swirling. She felt the aching gongs in her chest again that made her feel like groaning in pain. Last time they had said, dead and dying, imagining Severus bleeding to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

Now they gonged something else.

“I still don’t…” Hermione struggled to find the words. “She… she died.” Hermione lifted the parchment up and waved it weakly.

“Yes, the wording. I am getting there.” He offered her another lemon drop and she took a handful, nervously sucking one to keep her mouth from going dry again and prepared to pop another in her mouth as soon as that was gone.

“I am sure Harry shared the words of the prophecy with you. Harry was born to ‘those who defied the Dark Lord three times.’” At her nod, he moved on. “Tell me, Hermione,” he looked at her quizzically. “What do you imagine happens to those who defy Voldemort?”

She swallowed the lemon drop as she gulped. “I can’t imagine they’d live too much longer after.”

“How did the Potters live long enough to defy him three times?” Hermione looked at him, beginning to understand now.

“I see you understand the need to protect Lily Potter- even before she was Potter, while she was still Evans. There were others who defied Voldemort as well, but I could vouch for their protection as Aurors and Order members during this time period. The Potters were still in school in 1977 and were not put under explicit protection until…” he trailed off. “…until Professor Snape came to me and asked for their protection. He was the one who overheard the prophecy and reported it to Voldemort. He did not overhear the entirety of it, and he had no idea who it pertained to. He was immediately remorseful when he realized that Voldemort believed it applied to the Potters. Then he came to me.”

“When was that, sir?”

Dumbledore met her eyes, knowing this would frighten her. “Shortly after Harry Potter was born.”

“Harry was born… his birth year is 1980.”

Dumbledore gave no reaction, simply staring at her and waiting.

“NO!” Hermione leapt to her feet. “This parchment says 1977. August 1977! Harry’s birthday is July 31, 1980. You can’t be telling me that I’m waiting around in the past for three years, Professor!”

“The parchment says nothing about waiting around. You are on protection duty, I believe.”

“I’m protecting her so- so what? So she can die at the correct time? She won’t die in 1977 but she’ll still die when Harry is a baby and leave him orphaned! This is… how… how can I do that?!” She protested.

“There are many reasons, Hermione.” Albus Dumbledore said firmly. “Lily Evans needs to live long enough to marry James Potter and give birth to Harry Potter. As tragic as their deaths were, Voldemort was defeated when he tried to kill both them and Harry, preventing many many more deaths by his hand and those of his followers. Without his mother’s death and protection, Harry would not be alive. Without his mother’s death, even if he had lived somehow, Harry Potter would not be the same person he is today… and neither would Severus Snape.”

Hermione’s face flushed and her hair frizzed outward.

So this is how it was, was it? He wanted to send her back to save the woman Severus loved, but only for a limited time. Then she was supposed to let her die and cause Severus exceeding pain because of it. It was the worst of both worlds.

“And you need Severus Snape,” Hermione said between gritted teeth.

“Yes.” The headmaster looked very old and weary. “Yes, I do not think we can win this war without him. If the memory of Lily Potter is what still drives him forward, then we must do what we can to ensure he has that memory. I cannot say if the timeline would remain the same if you did not take this mission… If you will not agree, it cannot be helped…. however, I am loathe to risk it.”

Hermione felt like screaming and crying all at once.

No, she wanted to run and find Severus and tell him everything, absolutely everything she knew. She felt like she was being told to save him and betray him all at once. Kill the woman he loved but save her first so he could love her. Ensure he could not fully love Hermione now, but ensure that there was only the memory of a ghost for her to compete with.

“Hermione, will you accept this mission? For Professor Snape’s sake? For Harry’s?”

Hermione fell back into the seat, tears streaming down her face.

Professor Dumbledore sighed, knowing lemon drops would not do now.

He reached into another drawer in the desk and pulled out the big guns.

Chocolate.

Hermione went through the motions in classes for the next month. At least she and Ron were back to being friends again, even if he was grumbling about trying to get rid of Lavender and sneaking glances at Hermione a little too frequently. Hermione would think about it all and smirk. Getting rid of Lavender was perhaps the only thing to look forward to.

Whenever she had time to herself now, she was researching the 1970s and 80s. It was one thing to have a fairly good passing knowledge of history and culture from 20 years ago, but it was another to pass off as having lived through it. Muggle culture was one thing, wizarding was another. Hermione tried to absorb as much as she could about politics and world events, zoning in on the years of 1977 through 1981, when Lily Potter was eventually killed. Dumbledore had not told her explicitly how long she would be staying in the past, but it could be as long as three or four years.

Dumbledore had not told her much of anything, really. She scowled, thinking he was being extremely unhelpful in forcing her hand as much as he seemed to want to control the situation. Perhaps he thought her actions would be more sincere and less able to be seen as suspicious the less she was told.

Occlumency practice was as important as ever now, with the knowledge Hermione had to hide from everyone, including Severus. She had tried to examine his behavior from the last few months over and over again from multiple angles. Had this Severus already met her in 1977 or not? Perhaps he hadn’t, and this journey would create a new timeline, as much as Dumbledore now hoped to prevent that. Future-Hermione had seemed sure that time was looped, however, dispelling the notion of alternate timelines. Maybe Hermione stayed away from the past Severus and he never interacted with her at all, making her fears completely negligible. Even so, she worked on planting false memories of growing up in the 60s and 70s near the outer planes of her mind.

It was all so hard to fathom.

Maybe, she feared, maybe he didn’t know at all. Maybe she appeared so different now than she had in 1977 that he had no idea of her travels and he would feel completely betrayed once he found out she had doomed Lily to an early death. Perhaps he could have fallen in love with Hermione in the present 1997 if not for the revelation of what she had done- would do.

It hurt too much to feel or to think about, so she shut it all behind the furthest occlumency layers of her mind and heart, willing only the upcoming Apparition exams and rekindled friendship with Ron near the front.

Albus Dumbledore had given Hermione nearly nothing to go on, only her arrival date and the explanation that the past Dumbledore would give her a difficult time of things. It was her initiative to come up with a plan- a backstory for the young woman who could fit into the Hogwarts of 1977 and provide protection for Lily Evans, then Lily Potter. Hermione had thought for a while of what she could live with and set about researching her alias. Clearly, she understood who A. H. Perri was now.

After a few weeks of study, she saw that Professor Dumbledore was back in the castle and took her chance to slip away to quiz him about what was to come- or had already occurred.

To her shock, he revealed that there was little that had been done to hide her identity.

“No, Miss Granger. Do not use a glamour or Polyjuice potion,” he said firmly.

“But- but sir-”

He cut her off, holding up his hand. “Long term, a glamour would not hold up, and Polyjuice potion would have to be made continuously, using up ingredients and making its use more difficult to hide.”

“Sir, I…” Hermione huffed frustratedly, this new information spoiling some of her plans and research. “How… how is it that no one has recognized me?”

Dumbledore’s eyes shifted to the side and he paused, debating how much he should tell her, before answering. “Some have.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “And you still didn’t think I should take the mission? When it clearly already happened?”

“I did not see the need for it,” he replied sternly, eyes narrowing. “Time is a strange thing, and it is hard to predict one’s future feelings or actions. I did not see why I would possibly want to send you in the future- my future- so I hoped that this aspect of the timeline could be altered. Now, I see that I was incorrect.”

“Who?” Hermione demanded. “Who knows?”

“Miss Granger…” Dumbledore intoned warningly. “You should wait to find out. It does you no good to learn from others what you should find out for yourself. If that were to influence your actions, who knows what would happen.”

“Does Professor Snape know?” Hermione whispered, wide-eyed and fearful. Of what, she wasn’t exactly sure. She hadn’t figured out how all this tied in to… everything.

Professor Dumbledore hesitated, but decided to answer indirectly. “Any of your professors who have viewed your entire student file would know.”

Hermione was floored. “But… but they’ve never said… I mean…”

“As your Head of House, Professor McGonagall knew for certain that you were a competent candidate for time-turner usage.” He peered over his half-moon spectacles as Hermione sputtered in shock. “As for the other professors… I cannot say for sure who has perused your entire student record, but it is not standard to do so for every student, so it is possible none of the rest are aware. From your reaction, I can only surmise that anyone who knows has been appropriately discrete.”

“What… how…”

“You will say nothing, of course. There is no need for your routine to change.” This last bit was said warningly. Do not mention this to any of your teachers, despite what you think they know.

Hermione nodded numbly and turned to go.

“Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore called, causing her to turn back. “Discretion is still key during your mission. There is no need to draw attention to yourself or force interactions with anyone simply because you believe them to already have knowledge of your journey through time.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded, nonetheless.

While before Severus had been avoiding her, now she had been avoiding him. He must know, mustn’t he?

She finally understood what her future self had said to her at Spinner’s End. You can only trust Severus, and only after the next mission. Hermione couldn’t talk to him about everything until they were both caught up in knowledge about their respective timelines. He must know something of her in the past or have found it out at some point once she came to Hogwarts and he viewed her records.

Didn’t this make his pursuit of her, their…interactions… all the more confusing? It did to Hermione.

Hermione’s feelings had not abated. Even without intimate contact, she still had regular interactions of the teacher-student sort with Severus, so it was difficult to get him out of her mind.

As the weeks passed, a wet and cloudy March turned into a warm and windy April. Flowers began to bloom in random patches on the Hogwarts grounds and it became more regular to study outside, though sweaters and lighter cloaks were still a necessity to protect from the sometimes-biting wind. Hermione completed her Apparition exam with full marks, certified now to apparate as an adult witch. There would be no repeats now of the disaster of communicating with the Wizarding world that occurred on Christmas Eve. Now in an emergency, Hermione could simply apparate to find help.

After the Apparition test, Ron (who had only just failed) and Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room to find that Harry had ordered Dobby and Kreacher to tail Malfoy. Hermione had more objection to the idea that Harry was mistreating the house elves than that he was suspicious of Malfoy. She had come to be similarly suspicious of him but had decided not to encourage Harry on the trail anymore. Malfoy could be behind the attacks, she reasoned. Besides, she had more important things on her mind to worry about. The best she would do about Harry was to push him towards getting the Horcrux memory from Slughorn.

That did indeed happen not too much later.

Harry told her and Ron the whole story during Charms class one day with a well-placed ‘Muffliato’ that he had learned from his annotated Potions book. It was the morning after Harry had helped Hagrid bury Aragog and Harry had been able to invite Slughorn along. It was Ron’s brilliant idea for Harry to drink Felix Felicis that night and ask Slughorn about Horcruxes. Slughorn had given Harry the missing memory after drinking to the eternal remembrance of a giant, man-eating spider. Harry had rushed the memory straight to Dumbledore and now he could relate what had followed the previous night to the other two.

“It’s a part of his soul,” Harry whispered while they waved their wands to hide their mouths moving. “Voldemort’s soul. He made pieces of his soul to hide away so that he can never really die unless they’re all destroyed.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered back, accidentally whacking Harry on the head and earning a glare from Professor Flitwick. “He’s like a bug you just can’t squash.”

“There is some good news,” Harry said. “We’ve already destroyed two of them. Dumbledore figures there are four of them left so Voldemort would have seven pieces of his soul, his own body included.”

“Riddle’s Diary.” Hermione hissed beside them.

“Exactly. Knew you’d catch on fast ‘Mione. The ring that Dumbledore is wearing now too. There was a curse on it that blackened his hand when he destroyed the bit of soul in it. Apparently, his good buddy Snape helped him out with that so it wouldn’t kill him.”

Hermione grimaced at Harry’s sarcastic tone, but she felt a surge of pride rise up in her chest to hear that Severus had healed Dumbledore.

“And there’s… there’s something else. The Prophecy… it’s… well, I think Dumbledore was trying to tell me that the Prophecy is true, but only as true as I make it. Nothing’s forcing me and only me to kill Voldemort, just like no one’s forcing him to want to kill me. It’s just… just a fact, I guess. I do want to kill him and if it takes years to do it, I’ll still chase him down until he’s dead because of who I am and what I want to do, not because some Prophecy demands it of me.”

“So, it isn’t… fated?” Ron asked, frowning. “That you two have to kill each other?”

“Well… it might be,” Harry said, shrugging. “But I’ve chosen it, too.”

And it was as if Harry’s words struck deep into Hermione’s heart, warming her.

This is exactly what Future-Hermione had told her about her own travels through time. There was some unavoidable element of fate or destiny in her actions through time, but that didn’t mean her free will had suddenly disappeared.

“You choose this,” she had said to herself firmly, pointing to Severus.

The anxiety Hermione had felt for the past two months after learning the details of the mission slowly evaporated. Maybe it didn’t matter either way if she interacted with Severus in the past. Perhaps this is why he had asked her of her next mission more than once.

Yes, perhaps Lily Potter was fated to die, and Severus was fated to love her, and Hermione was fated to love Severus now and hurt him then by failing ultimately to protect Lily, but that didn’t mean there were no choices involved. Hermione could do what she could to prolong Lily’s life, even give her a brief period of happiness with marriage and a child. That was still a choice, and it wasn’t a bad one.

Harry explained the rest of what he had learned about Horcruxes and the promise that he would get to help look for one soon. When the bell rang, they left Charms with instructions to practice the spell that only Hermione seemed to have mastered. All three of them were smiling and lighthearted. Ron had ended it with Lavender the night before and was glad to be out from under her very clingy thumb, and Ginny and Dean were no longer together, so Harry was quite cheery. Hermione had finally made peace with the object of the mission. She was smiling as well.

After she had heard everything that had happened, both from Harry and from the rest of the rumour mill, Hermione slipped away for a walk to clear her head. She used her prefect rounds as a cover for the reason she was out pacing the corridors late at night.  

In her righteous indignation and fury at Harry’s misuse of the Prince’s book to nearly kill Draco Malfoy, Hermione had been chastised by Ginny for giving Harry a well-deserved scolding. It was beyond demoralizing to realize that, after all she did and continued to do for Harry and the Order, her opinions were written off as simply those of a Know-It-All killjoy. Yet even if she were right, it could never be acknowledged. Maybe a ‘Next time we’ll listen to Hermione’ or a ‘See, we should have trusted her when she said the book was off’.

Hermione sighed as she passed the Defense classroom on her walk.

Severus made an unbreakable vow to protect Malfoy. At least, Harry had overheard Snape saying he had made the vow when Harry followed him months ago. Hermione had recalled this important information after Harry had admitted to the incident with Malfoy in the bathroom. She wondered how Severus was doing, glad he had protected his charge, and wondered if he would also like a late-night stroll.

Hermione also ruminated more about the coming mission. It had been a few weeks since her acceptance of the task, but she had figured out more.

Three years, maybe four.

For Severus, it would be no time at all… but for her, it would be years. It would be years til she would truly see him again. It made her heart ache just thinking of it.

Apart from occasional attempts to perform Occlumency on her mind, in which she successfully laid bare her casual information and hid her secrets, there had been no interactions with Severus. Nothing had changed for her, but she had grown much more reluctant to see him. She did not want to discuss the mission, nor did she want to give anything away in her behaviour. She was completely enamored, and she didn’t want it to become obvious.

Harry kept giving her and Ron knowing looks, and she did nothing to dissuade him of his ideas. As long as Ron stayed cautiously friendly, still trying to win his way back into her good graces after months of silence, Hermione was satisfied. It was all a perfect screen for falling in love with her Professor.

Hermione was startled out of her thoughts when she recognized a gentle brush against her mind.

Severus silently directed her towards his empty classroom, struggling to keep his shields up as he did so. Once she was inside and the door locked and warded, he rounded on her.

“Where is it?” He hissed.

“Where is what?” She frowned at him, looking put off.

“Don’t test my patience, Granger. The book Potter was-”

“Hermione.”

He glared at her, looking ominous at the interruption, but she merely stuck her chin out and gave him a pointed look.

“Hermione,” she repeated. “We’re alone, so you can call me Hermione.”

Damn, it has been too long.

“I am your Professor, Granger,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “It’s Granger, or Miss Granger if I am feeling particularly cordial… which I am not.”

“Well, Professor,” she said with a far too casual air. “I’m not sure why we didn’t have this discussion in the corridor. I’m sure you know what is implied when a man and woman lock and ward the door.”

Fuck. It has been far too long.

He pursed his lips and said nothing, waiting until he saw her eyes widen slightly and her chin quiver a bit. Cannot keep her acting that cheeky.

“Yes, Hermione,” he said in a low voice, watching her inhale slightly at the unexpected reaction. “I am quite cognizant of the implication… and hope to capitalize on it shortly.” He nearly smirked as her pupils dilated and she gave him a heated look. “However, I must first know the whereabouts of the Potions book that Potter has been using. It is of vital import that it is returned to me.” He looked at her pointedly.

“If I see him using it again, I will let you know. He’s kept me away from the thing for months- I’ve been trying to get him to stop using it, but he’s stubborn.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest before shrugging. “I mean, I understand. He learned a few good spells and helpful Potions tips from it, but it’s basically cheating to not use his own ideas-”

“Stop.” He held up a hand. “What spells?”

“Well, there’s Muffliato and Levicorpus. The first muffles-”

“I know what they do. You must-”

“Do please stop interrupting me. I’m sure you don’t like it when I do it to you.” She glared up at him, arms still crossed.

Oh, my little Firebird.

Was it masochistic of him that he was aroused by confident, powerful women, or was it fueled by a sadistic urge to bring them down? Never the matter. He embraced the dark either way.

He replied in a silky voice, illustrating his desire. “I would so enjoy hearing you pontificate, but as mentioned previously, I am endeavoring to make this short.” He took pleasure in seeing her lower her arms, shivering slightly.

“You must promise me,” he continued, “never to use spells from that book. The individual who owned that book was clearly… disturbed.”

“I would never- I understand Harry didn’t know what the spell did, but the muffling spell…” she trailed off and looked up at him, maybe expecting to be interrupted at this point. When greeted with silence, she realized her protest had been half-hearted anyway and she didn’t quite want to finish. “… it has its uses.”

He nodded. “And the dark arts can be informative, useful even, but this is how corruption begins. It is a slow game, and simply learning information can be enticing at first. Then there is the desire to learn more and more, no matter what the consequences may be.” He paused and looked at her pointedly, his eyes dark. “I would not want you to become… seduced.”

“By- by the dark arts?”

He smirked then, eyes not leaving hers. “By the dark arts.”

She nodded, gazing up at him. “I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow. “To?”

“To not become seduced,” she replied levelly, smirking back at him.

He stepped closer to her.

“By the dark arts,” he clarified.

She kept her smirk and raised her own eyebrow at him. He stepped closer to her.

“By the dark arts,” he said again.

Again, she didn’t answer. She bit her lip, but she didn’t seem the slightest bit nervous as she returned his gaze.

Severus growled.

He strode forward and she leapt sideways, dodging him. Severus turned his head to her, to see her retreating across the opposite wall, grinning widely.

His eyes darkened and he gave chase.

Soon they were shooting charms and blocking spells, determined not to hurt the other, but only to trip them up. Jelly-legs jinx, tickling charms, anything to make the chase more exciting. Severus couldn’t help but think that Hermione was just as alluring as he remembered her from years before, making cat eyes at him and holding him at bay with a half-hearted attempt at a shield.

It is a bit of masochism, he thought, his smirk widening as she sent a weak stunner at his legs. He parried it easily, attempting to bind her with ropes that shot out of his wand. She sliced them away from her and his smirk grew feral. He didn’t mind in the least if she beat him, after all.

Then again, he thought, there is a sadistic thrill involved in the capture.

They kept at it until the spellwork became so half-hearted that the normally master duelists would have been embarrassing themselves in front of an audience. The pretense was kept up just before Severus pulled Hermione into his arms as she gave a delighted laugh. He chuckled appreciatively and tugged her down to the floor, sitting her in his lap and kissing her languidly. As aroused as he was, he forced himself to keep his hands at her waist. Hermione gave a muffled groan of approval as their lips met, and they snogged for a few minutes before she pulled away.

“What changed your mind?” She said, smiling at him and stroking his dark hair. “I thought we couldn’t…” She trailed off, biting her lip, not wanting to quite admit what they shouldn’t be doing because she wanted all of it.

He sighed and put his head back against the wall. “We still cannot. I am simply a fool with poor impulse control.”

Hermione tried to hold in a laugh, which came out as a snort. Severus lifted his head and glared at her, only causing her to giggle. “I’m sorry,” she insisted, smiling. “You’re just the last person I’d place as having poor impulse control.”

“With you, around you… it is different. You are different.”

Hermione flushed in pleasure as she looked at him.

His dark eyes shone. He found himself wanting to admit everything to her now but settled simply for honestly answering her question. “I nearly died.” He said quietly. “My life is forfeit as is, but I still hope to have more time. For a few brief moments, I was in agony, not knowing if…” He turned to her and held her face gently in his hands.

Not knowing if I could hold you or touch you again, or finally have you to myself fully at finally the proper moment in time, without a war or a master hanging over me. You are the one fucking thing Severus Snape has ever had for himself that he wanted to have, and this is the one fucking moment in time I can have you, it seems. Not knowing if I could have you was worse than death.

“Not knowing.” He said simply.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “How did you nearly die?”

He said nothing, wondering if she could guess at it.

“Oh…oh, Malfoy was hurt…and… and you could have…” she gulped, looking up at him. Her voice became firm then. “You won’t die, Severus. I swear to you, I will keep you alive.” She seemed adamant about that.

He frowned.

Does she know about the Unbreakable vow? How could she know that?

“What do you know, Hermione?” He said quietly. He still held her head gently between his long hands.

“Professor Dumbledore…. He… he told me.” She closed her eyes, appearing to steel herself to go on. “He told me all about what will happen, Severus.” She opened her eyes. “For me, what changed my mind is that I… I won’t be seeing you for a while, will I? Not like this. It won’t be possible.”

Severus’ eyes widened and brows furrowed.

Dumbledore told her? He told her I am supposed to prop my spoiled godson up to kill him and possibly take the credit for it? He’s told her all that? Presumably, Potter has disclosed the nature of the meetings with the Headmaster as well, so that means she has access to… everything. She must know everything.

Severus released her face slowly as he thought.

Hell, can I let her know in turn…? Damn! I need to know all the outcomes!

I cannot help but love her now, I have already loved her, but am I simply forcing it all to play out this way again? I have already forced my younger self to love her if she uses the Time-Turner now… but no, let us rely on alternate timelines prevailing here.

Do not think of the past.

Do not think of the future.

Think of the now.

He was about to speak before he stiffened and let out a hiss.

“What?” Hermione said, startled.

“Word must have gotten back to the Dark Lord about Potter’s escapade.” Severus gently moved Hermione off his lap and they both stood. “I must go.”

“I know.” She said.

Severus made no move to go, warring with himself.

Think of the now. Take what you can while you can, consequences be damned.

He grabbed her, clutching her to his chest as he kissed her fervently. She sighed, melting into his embrace just before he released her.

Severus forced himself to leave, giving her a brief nod and sweeping out of the room.

A few hours later, the Dark Lord having been informed of Draco’s safety and what was sure to be a quick recovery, Severus returned to the castle. He was none the worse for wear, Voldemort needing to keep his charges in Hogwarts intact long enough to carry out the planned assassination.

Nevertheless, Severus stank of grime and blood, remnants from the activities that had preceded his arrival at the meeting. The Death Eaters near him had been covered in filth and he reeked due to the close proximity. He took a quick shower and washed his hair before changing into fresh robes and making his way to Dumbledore’s office to issue his report.

He could tell something was wrong when he arrived through the Floo.

Dumbledore was waiting for him, despite the fact that it was close to four in the morning. Usually, when Severus returned from a Death Eater meeting, he would wake and inform Fawkes, who would then go to fetch the sleeping headmaster.

“Severus.” The headmaster greeted him levelly. He was standing in the center of the room, not seated at his desk, and not looking particularly tired.

“Albus.” Severus nodded cordially. His well-honed sense of danger from years as a spy was blaring an alarm inside his head.

“Severus, I am afraid…” Albus sighed. “I am afraid you will not forgive me for failing to consult you. I am truly sorry to go behind your back, but I am convinced it is for the greater good. The ultimate good.”

“Albus,” Severus said stiffly. “What have you done?”

Albus Dumbledore looked away, not meeting his eyes. “Miss Granger traveled to August 8, 1977, less than five minutes ago.”

Severus closed his eyes. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream or fall to the ground. He didn’t know if he was happy about this or not. He had only just resolved to live for the now.

I truly did set myself up to fail. She was never false with me.

Severus opened his eyes, finally meeting Albus’ blue ones.

Before either of them spoke, a blood-curdling shriek echoed through the office. The two men stared down at the floor as the figure of Hermione Granger flashed into view before snapping back out of sight again. Severus found himself on the floor, holding thin air where she had just been.

“Albus!” He roared, his face ashen. His head whipped up in fury to stare at the shocked old man. “Do you know if she survives? Do you know if she lives?!”

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was silent.

He turned as pale as his beard and hung his head in shame.

Chapter Text

Hermione awoke from a nightmare.

She had seen Severus lying dead on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. This time, she was frozen, unable to move her arms or legs as she watched him slowly bleed to death on the floor. She tried to scream, but no sound issued forth from her mouth. She began to cry, but no tears came.

This is when she realized it was only a dream.

As she slowly opened her eyes, the room blurred into focus. She shifted.

She still couldn’t move her arms and legs.

“Ah, here we are. Awake, then?”

Slowly, the figure of Albus Dumbledore became more solid, the fuzzy shapes in her vision colliding quickly into defined objects. Hermione looked around and saw she was in again in the Headmaster’s office. Looking back at Dumbledore, she noticed he looked much the same, only his beard held more silver and grey than the white she remembered.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“That won’t work for now. You have been silenced and restrained until we can verify your identity.” He said this in a lighthearted manner, but she was sure he was cold and calculating as ever. “There is a war going on, after all, and we aren’t quite sure who we can trust.”

Dumbledore peered down at her through his half-moon spectacles. She looked down and realized that she was bound to the chair she was sitting in.

“Now that you are awake, I can request the veritaserum from Professor…” He trailed off as Hermione shook her head violently, silently mouthing ‘NO!’

“I understand your distress, but I have never seen you before and I can only be too careful.” The younger Dumbledore cocked his head as Hermione continued to struggle vehemently against her bonds. He hesitated for a moment, attempting to evaluate the situation correctly. When silent tears began to stream down her face, he became stoic.

“Very well, Miss. You’ve piqued my curiosity.” Dumbledore lifted his hand, and reached into the pocket of his deep purple robes, pulling out his wand. He raised his hand and pointed the wand at her. “I will remove the silencing spell, but be warned,” his voice became quiet and deadly, “if you so much as attempt to perform any magic, I will not hesitate to do what is necessary to protect the school.”

Hermione nodded slowly, showing by her change in demeanor that she had calmed down. Albus Dumbledore lifted the spell and she sighed in relief.

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I will do my best to cooperate, but I cannot allow veritaserum. I have used a Time-Turner to travel here from the future, and I can’t disclose everything that will happen for the next 20 years.”

“20 years?” Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head curiously. The wand remained pointed at her.

“Yes, sir.” She said. “It is you who sent me.”

“That remains to be verified. I would not put it past the man styling himself as the next great dark wizard to send a spy among our midst, dressed in Gryffindor colours, no less.” He continued to hold the wand up, aimed at her face. “What is your name?”

The words spilled from her lips before she could think. “Anna. Anna Perri.” It was strange to say a different name than her own, but as a relative’s name, it was familiar enough for her psyche to recognize it as friendly. Anna Perri, Anna Helene Perri, Anna Perri, Anna Helene Perri, she repeated in her head, needing to get used to calling herself this.

“Don’t tell me you’re lying already?” The tone was cordial, amused, but the blue eyes turned icy.

Hermione hesitated, but shook her head slowly ‘no’.

Dumbledore backed slowly towards his desk and around it, still training his wand on her. “Accio,” he said quietly. A large book flew from the nearest bookshelf, landing softly on his desk. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at Hermione and pointed his free hand at the book. “Anna Perri,” he stated for the book. It glowed yellow-gold before flipping open of its own accord, pages flying rapidly until it landed on the appropriate one.

Dumbledore’s eyes glanced down at the page, searching. They stopped moving and trained on a particular spot in the lower right corner of the open page that she couldn’t see.

He frowned.

“Anna Perri,” he said again. The pages didn’t move. Dumbledore looked up at Hermione, still frowning. Slowly, he lowered his wand. He said something else quietly, too quietly for Hermione to pick up. The pages did not turn, and he seemed even more confused by this. He set his wand down on the desk, licked the tip of his finger, and began to manually turn the pages of the very large tome forward through the alphabet. He became visibly frustrated, almost concerned-looking. After a few minutes, he turned back to look at Hermione.

“Miss… Perri… or is it Granger, I wonder. Let me enlighten you. The Book of Names contains basic information for all Hogwarts students. Full name, date of birth, Hogwarts House and Class year, parent or guardian contact information… In short, everything that I might need to contact a prospective student or their family.” He pointed back to the book. “Under your name, it lists Anna H. Perri, Class of 1978. That is all. There is no middle name, no date of birth, no Hogwarts house. I am at quite a loss. And here, at the bottom, it says, ‘for more information, see entry under H. J. Granger.’ Yet, there is no H. J. Granger listed in the book.” He looked up at her quizzically.

“Oh, I… I think it’s because… Well, I haven’t been born yet, sir. Yes, my name is Granger, but for now, it should be Anna Perri, since H. J. Granger has not been born yet.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard, thoughtfully. “I do suppose that would verify your story.”

Hermione nodded. “Of course, sir.”

“I haven’t finished.” His blue eyes met her. He was no longer pointing his wand at her, but he didn’t quite trust her yet either, apparently. “It verifies your story about the time travel, however, it shows nothing for your motives behind doing so. Perhaps Voldemort is still around in 20 years, or there is a new foe to deal with. How am I to know that it was I who sent you? How am I assured of your motives?”

Hermione remained silent. It was a good question, and it was somewhat ridiculous of a 20-years-older Dumbledore to not give her more help with this part. You know, a signed note from his future self? Information only he would know-

“Voldemort’s birth name was Tom Riddle.” She said quietly, looking back at him confidently. “He was raised in an orphanage and he used to steal things from the other children… You were the one who came to tell him he had magic.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened and he came around from behind his desk. “Miss Perri,” He said quietly. “That is certainly a good start, however…” His eyes flashed dangerously. “Other than myself, Lord Voldemort knows that information. Now there is no middle road. Either I can trust you with my life, or I must kill you now.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She thought quickly. What, what, what did she know about Dumbledore from 20 years or more previous?

Dumbledore raised his wand and pointed it at her. “I am sorry, but I must protect the school at all-”

“Wait!” She cried. “Wait, wait, I know something.” She took a breath. “Fifty some years- no. No. Thirty some years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and a student died.”

Dumbledore lowered his wand. “I’m listening.”

She took a deep breath and continued. “Hagrid was blamed for her death. He was raising a creature he shouldn’t have been and… he was caught. He was expelled for it and there were no more attacks.”

“And?”

“He was innocent. He is innocent.” She took another deep breath and pleadingly entreated him. “You knew it, sir. I’m telling you that the person you suspected of being the real culprit was in fact, the real culprit.”

“And whom did I suspect?”

“The same Tom Riddle, of course.”

“Again, Perri! Again, this can be verified by Voldemort. Again, this is not particular to myself!” The wizard was becoming irritated. He looked as if he did want to believe her, maybe he did believe her, but he couldn’t allow himself to bend to such a temptation.

“Why would he tell me so many of his secrets? I know these things because you… you in the future ensured that I would know them. I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know that much about you particularly. I know about Voldemort because he…” she trailed off, not wanting to say too much about the future threat he still posed. “Because he’s a historic figure. You haven’t been as open about yourself.”

Dumbledore was silent, thinking this over. It was logical, that he wouldn’t be so open about himself and his own history with a student.

“Tell me why you are here. Why did I send you back 20 years?”

“To… to protect some Gryffindors.”

His eyes narrowed. “That is extremely vague.”

“I’m sorry! I just don’t want to tell you too much… I’m here to…” She gulped. When she next opened her mouth, the magical, time-altering drug of fate made her mouth blab again. Again, she felt as though she were fated or destined to say what she next said, and she couldn’t help how it came out. “I’m here to protect some important Gryffindors from the influence of Death Eaters. I need to keep an eye on Severus Snape.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened. “So, he’s taken the mark already, then?”

“I- I don’t know, sir. Maybe not yet.”

“But he will?”

Hermione bit her lip, closed her eyes, and nodded.

“Which Gryffindors in particular?”

She opened her eyes to look back at him before answering. “Lily Evans. And- and James Potter too… probably.”

“I doubt it,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “Potter doesn’t need help with that.”

“What,” Hermione flushed angrily. “And Lily does because she’s a girl?”

“No,” he said steadily. “Because Lily Evans is a Muggle-born and this year she will be Head Girl, evidence that Voldemort’s prejudices about Muggles and Muggle-borns’ intelligence are false. It makes her a bigger target.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione understood what he was getting at. Her alias identity of Anna Perri was a Half-blood witch. No need to complicate things and make her a target in this time as a Muggle-born again.

After she nodded slightly, Dumbledore continued speaking and smiled at her. “…and Miss Evans doesn’t wander around surrounded by a gang of wizards for protection, as Mr. Potter often does.”

“You seem to know a lot about her,” Hermione said, trying to cover her embarrassment. Yeah, she had nearly called him a misogynist just now.

“She will be Head Girl,” Dumbledore said simply.

Hermione wondered if she had been as observed by him. The future him, that is.

Hermione was enheartened when he released her bonds tying her to the chair. As she rubbed the circulation back into her arms, she saw him finally place his wand back into his robe pocket.

They then spoke for a few minutes about her stay here. She told him that she already had her backstory as a transfer student figured out, a seventh-year Gryffindor.

“It is a perfect cover, as it is the year for transfer students.” He commented. “Tell, me, Miss Perri. Do you know what happened when I first became Headmaster and Tom Riddle came to see me?”

Hermione thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “He asked for a job. Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. You said no.”

“Do you know what has happened since?”

“I’m assuming that there has been a curse on the position? No Professor has been able to keep the post for more than a year?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Exactly so.”

“Whether this is important enough to teach students about in 20 years, I have no idea, so I will do a quick run-through of the events of the past year. In January of this year, three bombs went off in Moscow, killing seven muggles. What the muggles are unaware of, is that this was not a bombing, but a targeted attack by Tom Riddle and his followers, done quite near the Soviet Union’s Ministry of Magic headquarters.”

He paused, but seeing Hermione’s rapt attention, he continued on. “Many of the Ministry diplomats throughout Eastern Europe are being targeted by Voldemort, both to join his ranks, and to be punished for refusing to do so. This attack was the final straw for many parents, who pulled their children from Durmstrang and sent them here. Voldemort may be active in Britain, but Hogwarts is safer than Durmstrang is now.”

Dumbledore looked at Hermione pointedly. “The new Defense Professor is one of the group from Durmstrang who fled and is seeking protection. He has taught there for a few years, and he appears to be a competent teacher.”

The Headmaster continued to look at her intentionally, willing her to see the importance of this discussion. “I want you to keep an eye on him for me. I can’t ask you to watch all of the transfer students, and none of them are seventh years apart from yourself, so it wouldn’t exactly be very easy to do in addition to your other assignments. However, I would like you to report back on the professor as much as you are able to observe him.”

“Who is it?” She asked.

“Maybe you have heard of him?” He said lightly. “Igor Karkaroff?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Umm… yes. Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

“Miss Perri.” He said gently. “You are going to have to hide your thoughts a little better than that.”

Hermione gasped and quickly checked her Occlumency shields to see that the appropriate information was dispersed along the correct planes. Unfortunately, she was hiding all of Hermione Granger’s identity behind the strongest shields now, so she had very little information on the open outer planes for Anna Perri. She frowned, seeing the problem. It was like a caricature, a one-dimensional figure.

Gods, this isn’t going to fool any Legilimens, is it?

“I will teach you some Occlumency when you come to make your reports.”

She smiled, finally having some relief in the whole situation. “Thank you, sir.”

She stood up from the chair she had formerly been bound in, pausing to stretch. “Oh,” she laughed. “I totally forgot to even make sure I’d hit the right date. It is August 8, 1977, isn’t it?”

He smiled and inclined his head.

“Well, is… is it okay that I’m staying here until the school year starts?”

“Yes. Some of the other transfer students are here as well.” He gave her a knowing look and his eyes twinkled. “You may even be able to get started on one of your duties.”

Hermione was alone in the Gryffindor dormitory, something she appreciated to help her acclimate to the new, but also old and familiar, environment. There would be a private sorting ceremony for the transfer students who had arrived this summer, but the Headmaster told her she could go ahead and stay in Gryffindor tower even before that. Her sorting would be to Gryffindor, of course, even if she had to request it from the hat.

Remembering it was August, she changed into a flowery sundress before leaving the dorms and heading downstairs. She had found out from Dumbledore that over the summer months, breakfast was made to order and delivered to individual common rooms or rooms, only lunch and dinner being full meals in the great hall. She had arrived early in the morning, and after being unconscious for a little and interrogated for the rest of the time, she had quite missed lunch. She decided to spend the afternoon reading.

After making her way to the library, she checked out a few books on the seventh-year curriculum for that year (Dumbledore having helpfully provided a transfer student information package before she’d left his office). She realized that she would basically be missing the entire summer. It was the end of May when she left 1997 and now it was August. On a whim, Hermione grabbed the books and a few of the recent editions of the Daily Prophet and went outside to read on the grounds.

It was a beautiful summer day, perfect for reading. It was hot, but breezy, making it comfortable to lie in the sun for hours if need be.

Hermione settled herself down on a blanket she had pulled from her beaded bag. She was close enough to the lake to reap the benefits of the cool wind whipping up from the water, but not so close that it would chill her.

After an hour or so of reading, she was interrupted by something odd. Odd even for Hogwarts.

She saw some robes, boots, and a broom floating gently towards a tree about 10 feet from her. The robes were folded neatly, and the boots landed gently on top of them. The broom rested itself against the tree, leaning upright.

Hermione looked around but didn’t see anyone. She frowned, before shrugging and turning back to her book.

Ten minutes later, she heard splashing, followed by footsteps. Her eyes widened, realizing what she hadn’t before.

Shite. I’ve interrupted someone bathing.

Quickly, she gathered up her books and papers and turned to go. Whoever it was had reached the tree. “I’m so sorry,” she called over her shoulder, not looking back. “I swear I didn’t see anything!”

Whoever it was said nothing, but she did hear some quick rustling as she began walking away.

“Wait,” a voice called.

Hermione stopped walking but didn’t dare turn around until she knew the other person was dressed.

“You forgot something.”

She half turned and saw the seventh-year Charms textbook she had left, as well as her blanket.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she turned fully around to take the items.

It was a miracle that the worst she did was gasp, bite her lip, and blush furiously.

Hermione looked up at a younger, tanner, Severus Snape, dressed in Quidditch robes and come straight from a post-practice swim.

“I don’t recognize you. You must be a transfer student,” He said, handing her the book and blanket.

Lucius told me to be nice to the transfers.

He nearly scowled, thinking how much better Lucius was at niceties. Sure, he had taken to the dancing lessons quickly, but small talk was something different entirely. He would do his best to follow instructions, but his “making nice” was other people’s idea of barely tolerating.

“I am,” the girl said, still blushing. She put the items in her bag before she stuck her hand out, “I’m Anna Perri.”

“Perri?” Severus’ brow furrowed. I thought all the transfers were Soviets. “What’s that? Italian?”

Anna Perri gave a shy smile. She raised an eyebrow pointedly and gestured at her hand, still mid-air waiting for him.

He scowled, trying to hide an involuntary smile himself as he shook her hand quickly before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his workout robes.

“Severus Snape,” he said. “Though I’ll deny I know you unless you end up in Slytherin.”

To his consternation, she grinned at him. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect less from a Slytherin. That is, from what I hear about them.” She looked up at him as she grinned, biting her lip again before looking away. Her golden-brown hair was wild and frizzy, and it shone brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. “I guess I’ll cross my fingers and be cunning when I’m sorted.” She looked back at him as she said this. The girl had a gleam in her eye as she looked at him that made his heart beat slightly faster than usual.

Shite, she was teasing him.

Was that flirting? No, Snape, don’t get ahead of yourself. It was never flirting with Lily. You’re misreading things.

Nevertheless, he found himself a little disarmed.

“I’m sorry again, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She said, smiling. “I’ll find another place to read from now on… if it bothers you.”

Again, he didn’t miss the implication. If it doesn’t bother you… what? I’ll stay by the lake when I might catch you mid-swim again?

Who the hell was this girl? Another perk of Death Eater service? It had to be that. Lucius must have found a way to engineer this as well. She couldn’t actually be flirting with him genuinely.

Then again, she hadn’t been here for the last six years to see how much of a pariah he was. As soon as the school year started, she’d be enlightened.

“It… does not bother me. I will need to change my routine soon anyway, as the school year begins.”

“Are you a transfer too?” She asked. “I mean, you are staying here over the summer and I was told that isn’t normal for most students.”

“No.” He said, leaving it at that.

I don’t care who she is, I’m not telling her I’m a ward of the school.

“Oh, well… I…”

She is expecting some sort of small talk. Wonderful.

“So,” he mumbled. His hands were still in his pockets and he shuffled his feet, swinging his dark hair forward and attempting to hide halfway behind it. “Perri is Italian?”

If he was expecting a short answer, that was far from what he got. She explained all about her father, the muggle Italian dentist-turned-diplomat in his later years, and her mother the English witch. Little Miss Italy had spent her first years of magical schooling at L’Academia in Genoa, only to have her diplomat father get transferred to Romania last year. The attack in Moscow spooked her mother, who decided to send her to Hogwarts in her final year, not knowing if muggle diplomats and their families in all the Soviet-led states would be similarly targeted as the wizarding ones.

Her story made sense on paper, but something seemed a little off about the way she was telling it. Rehearsed, a bit.

It’s possible it was rehearsed, he thought. I’ve rehearsed plenty of conversations ahead of time.

As he listened to her speak, he didn’t know whether to feel jealous of her life or in awe of her. Here was a beautiful, intelligent Half-blood witch with the same Italian-English background he had. He was becoming more and more convinced that she was either a trap set to entice him further into the Dark Lord’s ranks or a benevolent gift from the Gods.

Severus found himself talking about his own Italian background, at first just to relate, but as they walked back to the castle, he said far more than he ever meant to. When she looked at him, she was wide-eyed and enraptured, appearing to hang on his every word, making it difficult for him not to stammer. He told her about his Nonna, who he was able to meet three or four times when his mother snuck him away from the house as a boy.

He only just refrained from telling this amber-eyed whelp of a girl about how his grandmother would speak to him lovingly, more so even than his mother would. His Nonna Maria called him Severo and every derivation of it. Severino, Verino, Vero. He had debated going by one of the names as he got older, changing himself over into something new.

It felt too familiar, however. He didn’t want to let anyone in.

As they reached the doors to the entrance hall, he felt like she had stolen something from him. As if he had taken veritaserum without his knowledge and had been forced to spill his secrets. He hadn’t said anything untoward, nor anything that really had to be kept secretive. That was just the thing, though. He had been honest, and he had been under no obligation to be so.

“I, well… I suppose I’ll see you around, Severus.” She smiled at him.

His eyes narrowed. “Perri.” He sneered at her before stalking away, holding his broom tightly.

Best to avoid that one.

Well, that answered one of Hermione’s questions immediately.

She had made no intentional effort to meet Severus Snape, but it had happened. Now that it had, she was stuck.

She wasn’t going to be rude to him solely for the sake of the mission. It wasn’t in her nature, and it had been hard enough to lie to him, even if the lies were coated in half-truths.

He was still Severus.

It was unmistakably him, despite the fact that his ears and nose were still slightly too big for his face, as if he had some growing into them to do. She had also never seen him so tan before, and it was clear that his sallow complexion as an adult was the result of too little sunlight on his olive-toned skin.

In all honesty, it was almost harder to resist him now.

Sure, his movements were less fluid and defined and his expression was somewhat easier to interpret, but that only made him more accessible, more human. As if she had been idolizing him to some extent as her Professor, an older man, and a mysterious spy before, but now she could know him and interact with him confidently as an equal.

Hermione groaned inwardly and flung herself back on her bed.

He must have known all along. What do I do now?

Dinner at the Great Hall that night was interesting.

There were 25 other transfer students staying at Hogwarts over the summer, plus Severus Snape. Most of the students were younger, their parents having been concerned enough for their wellbeing to send them away to Hogwarts on short notice. Three had arrived last semester and had been placed in Ravenclaw, while the rest had finished out the year at Durmstrang before traveling to Hogwarts to stay through the summer and into the school year. This meant that 22 students and Hermione were to undergo a private sorting before the Hogwarts Express arrived, probably to avoid any undue influence of Slytherins on the transfers. A few teachers had been asked to stay behind and help monitor the students, so Professors Sinistra, Flitwick, Sprout, and… Karkaroff joined Dumbledore at the teacher’s end of the table at dinner.

Karkaroff appeared much the same, if only younger and somewhat more friendly. He was doing well to ingratiate himself both with the teachers and with the transfer students.

Is he already a Death Eater? Hermione wondered.

Hermione sat between a third-year Ukrainian girl named Natasha Gurevna who was still working on her English, and a rising sixth year from Moscow named Alexander Popov. After trying and giving up quickly on making conversation with the girl, Hermione decided to speak to Mr. Popov, whose English was quite good and had already managed to find out some of the Hogwarts' gossip.

“I saw you talking with Snape earlier,” he said after a few minutes of small talk, spearing a potato. Potato dishes would be quite common throughout the school year. Perhaps the house-elves were trying to be welcoming, but all they knew about Eastern Europe was the commonality of potatoes in the cuisine.

“Oh, yes.” She replied, surprised. “I met him this afternoon when I was reading by the lake. He’d just come from Quidditch practice, it looks like.”

“Of course, he had,” Popov glowered, screwing up his long, pale face. “From what my sister tells to me, he is already You-Know-Who’s man.” He gestured to one of the Ravenclaws talking to Professor Flitwick, who shared his same dark blonde shade of hair. “My sister came last year, and she was warned about him and those from Slytherin House. Last year he was poor, with old robes and old books. After Paschal holidays, he returns with new robes and new books, and now he has broom. Of course, he can do Quidditch now. His spot on team is bought and sold.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose, frowning.

She glanced down the table to the far opposite end, where Severus sat. He was engaged in somewhat stilted conversation with a fourth-year who she guessed was from Kamchatka or whereabouts based on his features. Severus had clearly not heard them, and everyone else around them was chatting in either polite and stilted English or in their native languages.

“I wouldn’t know about that. If his position were already guaranteed, he would have no need to practice, would he.” She replied evenly.

Hermione thought polite indifference would be best here. She was going to rapidly need to figure out how to deal with Severus Snape in this time. She knew he repudiated the ideology of the Death Eaters as a man, but how did this young version feel? Hermione wasn’t sure she could coddle an anti-Semitic, Pureblood extremist variation of him, even if Severus was still in there somewhere.

“It is for the show, Anya.” Popov replied, still glaring daggers down the table at Snape, who was sure to look over eventually. “Malfoy family has given Snape the money for everything, just like they do to other Slytherins who are with You-Know-Who. My sister has told to me everything.”

Hermione leaned in closer to him, trying to get him to lower his voice as she did. “Are you doing alright, Alexander? I know this must be difficult on you.”

Popov gripped his fork tightly. “My father has been target of You-Know-Who. He says father must join to him or die. We come all this way to escape, not to clap for his Death Eaters at the Quidditch matches.” He muttered quietly, but his voice was firm. “You do not speak to Snape or Slytherins if you support transfer students from U.S.S.R.”

Hermione thought for a minute, not knowing how to respond immediately. “I am sorry for what you have gone through, what your whole family has gone through. I’ll tread carefully around Snape, but I prefer to judge a person’s character on my own rather than let rumours dictate my interactions.”

Alexander’s light blue eyes turned icily to her, his ire directed at her now. “You are fool Annushka. You are fool who will be dead or Death Eater’s whore. There is no other answer but to run.” Popov threw his napkin down on his plate and rose, storming away from the table.

Hermione flushed as everyone turned instinctively to see him leave, their eyes then naturally falling on his empty seat and her. Severus looked at her as well, his expression inscrutable.

Despite not all having been sorted yet, every one of the group of transfers had opted to reside in the Ravenclaw dorms over the summer, wanting to stick together rather than be housed in guest quarters dispersed throughout the castle. This left Hermione feeling lonely in Gryffindor Tower all by herself, and spending much of her reading and study time either in the library or outside on the grounds.

Hermione spoke to a few of the other transfer students over the next week and found that most of them felt the same way that Popov did about Slytherins. While a few of them seemed like they weren’t too bothered by the idea of speaking to Severus Snape, they came down firmly on the side of exercised caution. The transfer student policy became to only speak politely to Snape if forced to sit with him during meals and to otherwise avoid him at all costs.

As for Hermione, she was unsure. Her feelings for Severus were as strong as they had ever been, despite the small changes in his demeanor and appearance and the twenty-year age difference. A pro-Voldemort Severus was sure to be less appealing than the man who had learned from his mistakes.

However, curiosity about this time of his life continued to plague her.

She found herself wandering towards the Quidditch pitch both in the mornings and the afternoons, walking near the lake again in the afternoons and early evenings, even strolling in the corridors when it was too hot to be outside, hoping to run across him.

He was avoiding her; she was sure of it.

Two weeks before the term began, the prefects arrived. Dumbledore had requested for them to come ahead of the train this year, specifically to help with the transfer students’ transition to Hogwarts.

Hermione met the seventh-year Ravenclaw prefects, Mateo Reinero and Calliope Cohen, in one of her sojourns in the library. Mateo was tall, with burgundy hair and a dazzling smile, a chaser on the Quidditch team. Callie, as she insisted Hermione call her, was quite short, with dark curly hair and large, thick glasses that proved clearly that Hermione was living in the 70s. As Hermione chatted with Callie, she thought she could be friendly with her. She was a typical Ravenclaw; studious, logical, and quiet, and made an effort to be polite but not unnecessarily familiar.

As Hermione was putting Miss Cohen down in her head as a potential study partner to help her through her N.E.W.T.S. this year while she navigated the mission as well, Callie waved some people over to their table.

“If you want to know about Hogwarts, Anna, these three know more than anyone.” Callie said, nodding perfunctorily. “How are you all doing?”

“Fine, thank you, Callie,” said a voice that made Hermione’s blood run cold. She blushed furiously and pulled the Snape trick of curtaining her bushy hair in front of her face.

A young Remus Lupin looked down at her kindly. He was brighter in appearance, without so many scars. “I’m sure it must be hard on you to transfer so far into your schooling, so let us know if we can do anything to help. I’m Remus Lupin, and this is James Potter,” he said, gesturing to the tall, messy-haired young man standing beside him who was the spitting image of his future son. “We’re in Gryffindor, so we might not see much of you unless you’re in that House, but we can point you in the right direction.”

“What, Mr. Prefect, forgetting me?” Hermione blushed further as the third boy stooped down to look at her. He looked far healthier and handsomer than she’d remembered him. “I’m Sirius. You just let me know which House you’re in and I’ll see as much of you as I can.”

Callie narrowed her eyes at him. James pulled Sirius up by his collar roughly. “Cut it out, Padfoot, you’re scaring the new girl. Can’t have Evans seeing you do that, you’re supposed to help me make a good impression this year.”

“Yeah, yeah, Head Boy and Head Girl and the private suites.” Sirius grinned. “Don’t worry Prongs, I’ll help you get into Evans knick-” James slapped him on the back of his head and Remus blushed and covered his hand with his face in embarrassment.

“Hello!” Mateo Reinero had appeared behind the seated girls, having seen the three Gryffindors talking with them. “Good to see you all.” He smiled good-naturedly and Hermione saw Callie visibly relax at Mateo’s appearance. He turned to Sirius. “Couldn’t stay away, Black? I thought only prefects were coming early.”

“Ah, yes, well my good friend Potter here is our illustrious Head Boy, so he came early with the prefects. I have been staying with him over the holidays, and he was courteous enough not to leave me behind with his family, as wonderful as Mum and Dad Potter are.” Sirius swung his arm over his friend’s shoulder before using his other hand to ruffle James’ hair. James lost his dour, serious look and grinned, a Harry-like grin. That’s right, Hermione remembered. Sirius isn’t on good terms with his family.

Remus turned back to the girls as James, Sirius, and Mateo talked about the Quidditch World Cup qualifying matches over their heads. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Anna Perri.” Hermione said quietly, only daring to meet his eyes for a brief second.

“Nice to meet you, Anna,” he said again, smiling. “Again, let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

After a few minutes, the boys left to “go find Evans” (according to James) or “meet the other new birds” (according to Sirius). Lupin trailed along quietly, nose in a library book he had just checked out.

When they were out of earshot and Mateo had retreated to another table, Callie let out a sigh of relief and turned back to her book. “I know what I said before, but it's probably best to stay away from those,” she muttered to Hermione. “They’re always getting into trouble.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Hermione agreed.

She would do her best to avoid them, but she needed to be in Gryffindor to act as Lily’s protector. Biting her lip, she concluded she would have to do her best to be… unremarkable and unnoticeable.

She couldn’t afford to be remembered.

Chapter Text

Hermione and the other transfer students were officially sorted the week before the train came. She had not needed to persuade the hat into anything, though it did whisper, “done this before, eh?” before shouting out a loud, “Gryffindor!”

There were a few Slytherins and Hufflepuffs in the bunch, and apart from Hermione there were a handful of Gryffindors, all younger students; however, the majority of the transfer students remained in the Ravenclaw dorms, wise enough to know a good thing when they saw it.

Upon her sorting, she was officially introduced to Lily Evans.

Hermione had a knack for sussing out a person’s personality traits within an initial conversation, and she was able to determine that she and Lily Evans might get along well, just as she thought Calliope Cohen might make a good study partner who wouldn’t ask too many questions.

Lily and Hermione shared some similarities. They were both studious, intelligent, cared about grades, weren’t afraid to speak their mind to their friends, and had a soft heart for those less fortunate than themselves.

As much as she found a friendly affinity with the other young woman, it was accompanied by a number of feelings. Some jealousy, that Lily could inspire such long-lasting love from Severus, as well as shame for feeling jealous. Sadness at the thought that such a bright, lively person would be dead in a few years, leaving an orphaned son behind, and guilt at the knowledge that Hermione would do nothing to prevent that death.

“Here,” said Lily. “I’ll show you around Gryffindor Tower.” She must have been unaware Hermione had already been staying there prematurely, as Lily had her own separate suite.

Hermione followed to the girls’ dormitory and met the McKinnons, fraternal twins who were easy to tell apart. Marina McKinnon was the newly-appointed prefect who had replaced Lily, since Lily now had additional Head Girl duties. Marina was petite, curvy, and bubbly, while her sister Marlene was tall, wiry, and athletic. They both had the same straight medium brown hair and wide smile.

Hermione smiled nervously and waved.

“Do you think you’ll go out for Quidditch, Anna?” Marlene asked excitedly. “We’ll need a few new players this year. I’m the keeper and we’ve already got Potter as seeker, but the other positions are up for grabs.”

Hermione shook her head. “Oh no,” she smiled weakly. “I’m terrible at flying and I’m quite afraid of heights.”

Marlene looked disappointed, but Lily and Marina were enthused. “Oh good!” Marina said enthusiastically. “I’ll have someone to talk to when all the talk turns to players or teams or the World Cup chances.” Lily smiled knowingly and nodded.

After a few minutes of the girls getting to know each other and appearing to get along well, Marina perked up and nudged Lily lightly.

“Say, Anna!” Marina said. “You should join our study group. We could help you with any of the new material and you could teach us some Italian magical practices.”

Hermione smiled shyly and agreed. Another friend.

The study group consisted of Lily Evans, Marina McKinnon, Calliope Cohen, and another Ravenclaw girl named “Ellie” who would arrive on the Hogwarts Express. Lily joked to Hermione that the girls were her gang of four, since friend groups at Hogwarts often tended to arrange themselves into fours.

“Oh, really? They do?” Hermione asked. The girls were all in the library that afternoon, as the August heat was sweltering.

“I mean, it just seems to happen.” Lily shrugged. “Not that you aren’t welcome to join, of course! It’ll be better to have a fifth anyway, in case our schedules don’t line up on a given day. I’ve got the Head Girl duties to check in on the transfer students this year, Callie and Marina both have prefect rounds, and Ellie is the Ravenclaw beater, so she’ll have practice to keep up with. It is odd that there are a few groups of four around here,” she finished thoughtfully. “It’s not a particularly magical number either, like three, or seven, or thirteen.”

“There’s the Marauders and- Ooh, we should have a group name as well!” Marina chimed in. Callie huffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t scoff, Cal. If the boys can call themselves the Marauders and have special codenames for themselves like Moany and Proudfoot, there’s no reason we can’t as well.” Hermione held in a snort.

“Firstly, we’re a study group. There’s no reason to have secret nicknames.” Callie said flatly, turning the page of the book in front of her. “Secondly, I have no desire to compare myself to those attention seekers. Let’s not and say we did. Or better, let’s not even say we did. Please never say that we have to be ‘like the boys’ again.”

Lily laughed. “Hear, hear!”

Hermione grinned. “Who are the Marauders?” She asked, even though she well enough knew the answer.

Lily made a face that was supposed to be a grimace, but her eyes shined amusedly. “James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. It’s James and Sirius who are the troublemakers, really. Remus isn’t a bad egg at all, he just gets roped into joining them sometimes. I think he goes along to keep them from getting killed or expelled, so he softens the blow, and everyone gets detention. Peter too, I think. He’s shy and nice, but he’s not good at saying no when he needs to.”

“They’re more than troublemakers, here they’re almost legendary. Last year they gave half the Slytherins antlers!” Marina giggled.

“Technically, they never found out who did that…” Callie frowned thoughtfully.

“Oh, it was probably them,” Lily said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “James is Head with me this year and he keeps trying to convince me he’s matured. We’ll see if he can follow through on that.” The rest of the girls giggled.

The day before the train arrived, Hermione and the rest of the study group (“No, we do not need some sort of moniker, Marina!”) were reading and practicing Charm work down by the lake. They were enjoying the last bit of summer before classes started and had been out chatting and sunbathing all afternoon. Hermione had been hoping for a bit of alone time to study, as she never was normally so social, especially with other females, but this was an easy way to keep an eye on Lily. Inwardly, she resigned herself to the fact that Anna Perri might have to be more extroverted than Hermione Granger.

It had been some time since Hermione had seen Severus by the lake, but she did remember he had changed his mind about a post-workout swim.

Just as the afternoon sun bore down and the breeze from the lake faded away, the girls were joined by the three Marauders who were currently at school. James had brought his broom and was chatting with Lily as Sirius regaled an enraptured Marina with his adventures at the Potters over the summer. Remus nodded politely to Hermione and Callie before slipping under a tree to hide behind the book he was holding.

Suddenly, James jumped up and grabbed his broom. He jumped on it, racing it away over the lake.

“Look!”

“What’s that?”

The others quickly gathered near the edge of the lake, craning their necks up to see what had sent James flying.

There were two figures in the air, both on brooms. They were shooting spells at each other and trying to dodge the flashes of light coming from the other’s wand. James was zipping towards them on his broom, the water rippling below him as he dashed.

Red sparks, then blue, then white illuminated the afternoon sky like fireworks as the brooms and riders dashed rapidly over the water. Hermione was trying to make out who the duelers were, but the sun was behind them, casting their faces into shadows as they ripped through the air.

She had a sinking feeling in her stomach, call it intuition, that one of them was-

There was a yell and one of the figures stiffened. As if in slow motion, the stiffened rider fell backward off the broom they were riding and into the lake with a loud splash, the broom toppling down into the lake after. The watching figure in the air turned quickly and zoomed away toward the castle.

James went into a dive and followed the one who had fallen into the water, creating a large wave as he did. A soaking wet James managed to pull a sopping, stiff student out of the water, half dragging them on his broom til he reached the shore.

It was Severus.

“James!”

“Oh, my goodness, what happened?”

“It’s Snape! What was he on about?”

Hermione pushed her way in front of everyone else. “Move! Out of the way!”

She did what she knew best and started directing. “James, put him down here! Lily, remove the body bind and start CPR! Remus, Marina, get Madam Pomfrey and… who is head of Slytherin- Slughorn! Get them here now, maybe Professor Dumbledore too!”

Everyone stood frozen for half a second too long.

“Well?” She cried. “Move it!”

Remus and Marina ran back towards the castle and James set Severus down on his back on the shore.

“I- I don’t know CPR!” Lily stammered, her hands shaking.

“I do.” Hermione quickly settled herself beside Severus, who was not moving even though James had countered the body-bind curse.

She half-wondered if it was a good idea to touch him like this when she was trying to keep her feelings hidden.

There was no time to worry about that now. First, breathing… she’d have to put her mouth on him to open his airway…

No, wait!

Immediately, she recalled what she had read in Medicinal Magic: A Helpful Guide for the Aspiring Mediwitch. “Velox incutio!”

Chest compressions were started, followed by the modified bubblehead charm. Hermione grabbed Severus’ wrist to try to feel for a pulse.

12345…please please Severus, 678910…

Hermione’s mind raced back to the Shrieking Shack and seeing him bleeding out on the dusty floorboards. Her chest tightened and her heart groaned that familiar refrain: dead and dying, dead and dying, dead and dying.

Is it possible I’ve messed something up? Did I alter the timeline somehow?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James put his arm around a quavering Lily. She wasn’t sure where Sirius and Callie were, but they could be behind her.

I have the Time-Turner. If I have to, I can go back and save him! Yes, yes, it’ll be alright, everything will be okay in the end.

Her throat closed up and she tried to figure out how she could possibly go back in time and keep him from drowning when everyone had just seen the entire event unfold.

After Hermione felt she might pass out herself from holding her breath, she felt his pulse beneath her fingers. Severus gave a rasping breath and lurched upward, canceling the chest compression spell. He turned over, spitting out water, his chest heaving.

Hermione felt all the muscles in her body relax, and it took everything in her power not to grab him and pull him into her lap and hold him tightly. He’s safe, he’s safe, he’s safe.

Remus and Marina rounded the corner just then with Madam Pomfrey, Slughorn following and wheezing in the distance. Hermione heard shouting around her as those by the lake directed them this way, screaming that Snape nearly drowned and Anna had saved him.

Amidst the shouting, Severus turned to look at Hermione. His eyes were wide, and he was breathing deeply, struggling to catch his breath.

“You…” he whispered.

She felt tears slip down her cheeks as she looked back at him, hiding none of her relief he was safe. Severus lowered himself back down to the ground in exhaustion.

Soon the Hogwarts Express arrived, and the rest of the students noisily took over the castle. Hermione kept trying to subtly shoot glances at Severus across the Great Hall during the welcome feast. After a night and day in the Hospital wing recovering, Madam Pomfrey had reluctantly released him for the festivities, telling him to rest up over the weekend. The first of September was a Thursday that year, so Friday would be used only to hand out class schedules and get acclimated, and classes would begin Monday.

Severus was speaking to some of the other Slytherins at the table and they all had their heads put together. She saw a few almost-grins on his face and was somewhat put out.

Dumbledore’s welcome speech introduced Professor Karkaroff, reminded the students to behave and show the new transfer students the famous Hogwarts hospitality, and mentioned that there would be some exciting changes and new events at the school this year. This was not followed by any explanation other than, “Let’s hope you are sufficiently surprised. Now… dig in!”

After enough eating time had occurred, mingling between tables was allowed, and Hermione finally met the last study group member.

Elpida Dalton, or “Ellie”, was tall and broad-shouldered and had short dirty blond hair that was cropped just under her ears. She had the perfect physique for a beater, yet she had also inherited the bookish gene, and she was the kind of girl who was prone to frantic, anxious energy. She struck Hermione as the kind of person who signed up for too many responsibilities because she was bright and capable, but naturally ended up overextending herself and breaking down when it all became overwhelming. Nevertheless, Ellie was very kind and affable, and Hermione thought she could also get along with her.

It’s a good thing, too. Hermione thought. I haven’t had to deal with any Lavender or Parvati types yet. No girls gossiping about boys or the latest fashions from Witch Weekly.

She met a girl who fit the bill that night.

If Hermione had experienced twinges of jealousy when it came to being near beautiful and intelligent Lily, it was nothing in comparison to Arabella.

Arabella Cook was the last seventh-year Gryffindor in the girls’ dormitory, as Lily now had her own suite. Arabella had deep chestnut-colored hair, elegantly stacked in curls on top of her head. Her nose was long and thin, and she had perfect pouty lips. Her brown eyes were the same color as her hair, reminding Hermione of molten chocolate. She had a sort of Old Hollywood glamour about her, having an appearance and movements as effortless as a 30’s movie starlet. She oozed confidence and femininity without appearing to be trying too hard.

She looked just enough like Hermione for someone who didn’t know either girl to think they could be sisters. In Hermione’s mind, Arabella Cook looked a step or two more elegant than she did in every way. Just enough to make her feel completely inadequate.

“Nice to meet you, Anna.” Arabella Cook smiled regally at her. “Marlene tells me you’re from Italy. I’d love to hear all about it sometime. Especially about the Italian men.” She winked at her and gave a knowing look. “Well, all,” she turned as she announced to the room. “I’m off to check on the men here we’ve all been saddled with. Hopefully, none are too disappointing this year.”

“Oh please,” Marina called from across the room as she hung up her robes. “You’re just going to go flirt with Black as usual.”

Arabella gave a tinkling laugh. “Only if he flirts first,” she called before sashaying out of the room.

Hermione gruffly opened her trunk and got out her nightclothes and toiletries. “Is she always like that?” She asked Marina, comfortable enough with the girl by now to confide in her about the small things.

“Like what? You mean… flawless?”

Hermione looked sheepish but nodded.

Marina laughed and Marlene shrugged. “You get used to it.” They said together.

Hermione was remembering what Slughorn had said months ago to her, but years in the future.

“…Professor Snape fancied the Cook girl…”

The younger Severus hadn’t even looked at her in two weeks- if you didn’t count those moments after coming out of the water. Hermione’s heart ached in her chest.

It was going to be a long year.

Hermione got her class schedule the next day. The classes were all mixed-House at the N.E.W.T level, so she was sure to see some of her new friends in everything. She was no longer taking Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, or History of Magic, though she still felt confident enough in her individual study that she could get an E or higher on those N.E.W.T tests without the classes.

Would it matter, anyway? Dumbledore had said that her student record showed evidence of her time travel. Perhaps because it listed her N.E.W.T scores as Anna Perri?

She managed well enough in the classes she attended on Monday, not raising her hand to answer every question or trying to call attention to herself in any way. At one point, this exercise in patience would have been exceedingly trying to the Know-It-All Gryffindor, but now she was glad that being unremarkable was part of the mission. She allowed herself a break from perfection; after all, she couldn’t tip too many people off in the future that Anna Perri and Hermione Granger were the same person.

Slughorn threw a wrench in her plans when he approached her after the first Potions class.

“Ah, Miss Perri, is it? I’m inviting you along to my little club I have organized here, just the who’s who among Hogwarts students and alumni. It’s in a few weeks, near the end of the month, so plenty of time for me to invite all the promising students. You did quite well in class, Perri, and I saw some of your heroics down by the lake. You are going places, I’m sure. Best remember you!” He laughed jovially as Hermione’s heart plummeted. She was going to have to work on him.

That afternoon, she joined her girl’s study group in the library, chatting good-naturedly with the others. Marina had not arrived yet, so it was only Elpida, Calliope, and Lily currently in the library when Hermione arrived, discussing their own classes and how they played into graduation.

“Hi, Anna!” Ellie greeted her with a cheery nod, waving her over to their table. “How did you like your first day of Hogwarts classes?”

“Oh, they went well,” Hermione said, still puzzling over how to make Slughorn forget her without trying to flunk the class. Failing was not an option.

After a few minutes of Hermione being lost in her thoughts, she realized the conversation had shifted back to the events of last week, rehashing them for the umpteenth time. Marina had also appeared at some point, and Hermione gave her a smile and nod.

“…and James swears he didn’t get a good look at the one who cursed Snape, but he’s sure it was a bloke.” Lily finished telling Ellie.

“Sure, of course, that’s what Potter says. That certainly narrows down the list of suspects.” Callie rolled her eyes and looked back at her Transfiguration homework. Lily looked a bit put off at the jab to James.

“But you saved him, Anna, they tell me! That’s fantastic that you knew those healing spells. Did they offer healing magic courses in Genoa?” The girls all turned to Hermione at Ellie’s question, and she had to think quickly on her feet.

“No, uh no. My mother taught me some. She um… she works as a healer.” Not an absolute lie… a dentist was a muggle healer.

“Oh, you should talk to Arabella,” Lily responded. “Apparently healing runs in the family, so she’s expected to follow in the family tradition and work at St. Mungo’s. She’s great at Herbology and Charms, but she’ll need help with the other healing N.E.W.T requirements, especially Potions.”

“Is that right?” Hermione said, desperate to change the subject off of herself. “What are your career plans after school?”

Lily, Callie, and Marina shook their heads, still considering. “I think I want to work in the Ministry,” said Elpida quietly. “There are research positions and advocacy jobs… I just have trouble deciding, it all sounds exciting.”

“I could consider being an Unspeakable,” Callie said thoughtfully. “It’s difficult to get in, though; you have to be recruited.”

“I think you just like the idea of being mysterious, Cal,” Lily smirked. “I’m sure it’s actually far less glamourous…” Lily trailed off as she looked past Hermione’s shoulder to the library doors.

Hermione turned and saw Severus Snape walking into the library.

This was the best look at him she had gotten in a while, when he wasn’t wearing his old workout robes. These robes he was wearing now were tailored to fit him perfectly, and Hermione tried not to think about the body of the man she had become familiar with by now.

Severus stalked in confidently, flanked by a few other Slytherins. His hair was pulled back in a queue and his thin lips were pulled tightly in determination.

He was an image of power, if less refined than he portrayed himself in the future. When she looked at him, she could see the man coming into being, if not yet fully there yet. It felt almost intimate to look at the young Severus Snape, knowing how he would mature.

Hermione’s face flushed with a mixture of pride and pleasure.

“Who is that?” Elpida whispered, a little too loudly. The other girls shushed her.

“It’s only Snape,” Lily said through gritted teeth. “We were just talking about him, weren’t you listening?”

“No!” Ellie’s blue eyes widened. “What? I didn’t even recognize him! He looks so different this year. What, did he get a haircut maybe?”

“Certainly, some grooming tips,” Marina chimed in. “He’s been working out and he walks differently too. He used to always have his head down and keep to himself, but he’s been in a group mostly now.”

“Of course, he has,” Lily hissed. “He’s hanging out with all the wannabe Death Eaters who are making him over into one of them.”

“We don’t know that they’re Death Eaters,” Callie said levelly, pushing her large glasses up on her nose. “We shouldn’t assume-”

“Fine, Dark Arts afficionados, if you like.” Lily retorted. She turned to Hermione, trying to explain her ire to the new observer. “I didn’t want to say earlier, since it wasn’t the right time after he was hurt… We used to be friends- good friends, actually, but he called me a Mudblood in front of everyone after I was only trying to help him.”

“No!” Hermione said, horrified. Severus never mentioned this had happened. He must still love and care for Lily anyway though, to later change his mind and leave that life, all for her?

Lily nodded firmly. “Just proof of his prejudices. If he isn’t a Death Eater, he’s well on his way. I don’t condone trying to drown him in the lake, but…well… See those with him? The tall blond one is Evan Rosier. He’s a good dueler but he is a firm believer in their cause, thinks muggles are scum. The one in the middle there is John Avery III, a stuck-up prat who acts big, but he’s a coward when there’s no one else around. That last one is Milton Mulciber, he has pulled some of the worst pranks here, if you can even call them that. I heard he implanted false memories in a girl after he knocked her out and she had to be obliviated to be able to sleep at night.”

“Now hold on.” Callie closed her book and looked up, frowning. “I don’t think those rumours were ever substantiated. If we look at the facts-”

“What?” Lily almost snarled at Callie, who looked startled. “I’m a Muggleborn, Calliope, don’t you know? It’s my kind that they’re talking about getting rid of or re-educating or whatever the talking points are now. This is exactly why I stopped being friends with Sev- Snape. You can’t believe I’m better off dead while you’re smiling and making nice to my face.”

Hermione was taken aback by the quick change of tone at the table, but she completely understood where Lily was coming from. She had been wrestling with this herself. She wasn’t enthused by the idea that Snape was a Death Eater because he bought the rhetoric.

In fact, she thought. The only reason I can feel for him now is that I know he won’t stay like this. I know he has a good heart. He can change because I already know that he did, I’ve seen it. If I were in Lily’s place now, I might have done the same.

“Uh, Lily,” Marina said nervously. “You might want to finish with that talk. They’re heading over.”

Sure enough, the group of Slytherins began walking toward the girls’ table, Snape leading the way. Snape walked all the way up to the table, while the other three stayed a few paces back, confirming they were simply there for backup.

“Ladies.” Severus nodded curtly. Callie returned the nod with raised brows. Marina began to wave but lowered her hand slowly as Lily kicked her under the table. Ellie simply stared at him confusedly, and Hermione bit her lip.

“Perri,” he said quietly. “Might I speak to you in private?”

“She stays here, Snape.” Lily chimed in before Hermione could speak, glowering at him. “I don’t trust your goons.”

Hermione frowned and made a face at Lily, taking offense at being spoken for. Severus ignored Lily’s demand but didn’t ask anything further and simply turned his back on her and faced Hermione on the other side of the table.

“I simply wanted to thank you, Perri, for… assisting me last week,” Severus said stiffly, clearly frustrated at the audience. “Let me know what I can do to… return the favour.” He met her eyes only briefly, but Hermione saw the same familiar dark waves crashing in the irises. Before she could get lost in his eyes, he turned his head, not waiting for her response.

Severus nodded sharply before he turned fluidly and walked away. Mulciber, Rosier, and Avery sneered and glowered at the girls before turning on their heels and following him out.

“Well, that was… almost… that was nice of him,” Hermione said, breaking the silence at the table after a few long seconds.

“Not exactly,” Callie said, pushing her large glasses up her nose. “It’s his half of the contract. He owes you.”

The others all turned to look at Callie.

“What do you mean, Cal?” Ellie said, confused.

“My Uncle was in Slytherin, that’s how I know. It’s basically a rule that nothing is done for you without something being expected in return.”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “Of course not. There isn’t any such thing as just being nice for those people.”

“Wait, so Snape owes Anna something for saving him last week? This is brilliant!” Marina said exuberantly. “You need to think of something good!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione said. “I am perfectly fine with just being nice. Besides, better save it in case he ever does return the favour in some way. Instead of me owing him back again, it’d just be even then. I’d hate to be in debt to a Slytherin for something.”

The others murmured and nodded in agreement before finally returning to their schoolwork.

I wonder if this means he has a debt to James Potter too, Hermione thought. He did pull Severus out of the water to begin with.

Severus left the library with the others behind him, pausing to separate at the entrance.

“Don’t forget our deal, Snape,” Avery said quietly. “Oh, and Wilkes wants in too if you have the time.” Severus pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes but nodded.

Avery and Mulciber slipped away together, discussing potential consorts. Rosier stayed behind and turned to Snape.

“I hope this won’t become a problem, Severus,” Rosier said, stepping close to him to avoid being overheard.

“Of course not, Evangelos. I’ll turn it around to my benefit in the end,” Severus replied steadily. “Besides, the transfer students are our best bet for recruits this year, so it can hardly hurt.”

“Be sure it doesn’t,” Rosier said, grinning. “I’d hate to answer to the handler for a foolish mistake like owing a debt to a Gryffindor.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You’ve figured out who the handler is?”

“Hah. No, I’m not that unlucky. You behave yourself, Snape, or we’ll all have to answer to the handler. Maybe the Dark Lord himself after that.”

As Rosier walked quickly away down the opposite corridor as the other two had, Severus turned around to be met by the four banes of his existence stalking straight towards him.

Wonderful. Just when I need the idiots, they all leave.

“Snape.” Potter’s eyes were icy as he surveyed him. “Looks like the lake did you some good. Your hair has lost most of the grease.”

Pettigrew laughed and Severus fingered his wand in his robe pocket.

“Wait a minute James,” Black said in a mock jovial manner as he slung his arm over his friend’s shoulder. “As one from a family of Slytherins, I seem to remember something about their notion of tit for tat. Eye for an eye, that kind of thing. Just remind dear Snivellus here that you’re the one who pulled him out of the lake when he was incapable of swimming.”

“Sirius…” Lupin chimed in warningly. Who the fuck cares? Snape thought, at least feeling superior over Lupin in his own current social standing. Your friends don’t. Your bark has no bite, wolf. They’re never going to listen to your mothering.

“Leave off a minute, Moony,” James said, and Severus smirked. “Is that true, Snape? You owe me again? I already saved your life once, didn’t I?”

“You undid that debt fairly quickly, Potter.” Snape sneered. “Or haven’t you forgotten your past… indiscretions? I’m sure Evans hasn’t.” The taunt worked and James’ face contorted in rage.

“You sneaky, slithering bastard! You stay away from Evans!” Potter was held back by Lupin and Black as he attempted to lunge forward towards Severus, who smirked in satisfaction.

“Calm down, Prongs. Don’t react now,” Sirius countered with a feral grin. “This debt still counts. I’ll help you come up with a price for repayment.”

The four shuffled along together into the library, Lupin looking almost apologetic and Pettigrew looking smug while the other two glared and whispered conspiratorially.

Severus watched them walk over to the girls’ table he had just left.

Interesting, he thought as he watched the Marauders’ approach. Perri doesn’t like them either.

The girl had nearly jumped when she saw them coming and began to squirm in her seat. When Sirius Black leaned in with a wide grin to talk to her, she actually did jump up and excuse herself.

Severus smirked. Perri had risen even further in his esteem already just for that reaction. As he watched her hurry out of the library, he admired her figure (she has curves under those robes) and decided she looked very pretty when she blushed, even if her hair was a bit unruly.

Hmph. Another thing we have in common- impossible to manage hair.

She didn’t even notice him standing there watching her until she nearly collided with him.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry! I- I just…” She finally noticed whose chest she had nearly run into.

She is the perfect height too, he thought as she looked up at him.

He cleared his throat. “Miss Perri.”

She smiled brilliantly up at him and her blush returned in a light pink. “Mr. Snape.”

God, the way she looks at you, Snape. Maybe you can get lucky soon, you fuckwit.

“I’ve noticed we have a mutual… thorn in our side, shall we say.” He jerked his head towards the library, indicating the Marauders.

“Oh, oh you mean… James and Sirius… oh no, no they’re fine…” She bit her lip and looked away.

Severus angled closer to her, speaking softly. A thrill ran through him when he heard her breath hitch ever so slightly. “You don’t need to lie to me about it, Perri. Go ahead and pretend they aren’t bothering you when you’re surrounded by the yes-men of Gryffindor. Slytherins don’t care about hurt feelings.”

“I… oh well… yes. Yes, Sirius makes me a little… uncomfortable, but they’re all friends with the girls, so I’m… making nice, I guess.”

Severus was a new man this year, not the bullied nobody of the previous six years at Hogwarts. He had decided to stand and fight for himself like his mother hadn’t. So, he had finally accepted Lucius’ offer last semester and started building up his status so he could join up. Pureblood etiquette lessons, new clothes, tips on self-care, workout routine, and broom. These were all pieces of the new and improved no-one-can-murder-me-now Snape. He had to protect himself, fight for himself because no one else would.

Severus Snape was well on his fucking way. He had his own posse now to protect him from the Marauding morons and he had built up his confidence over the last six months.

Severus Snape bloody hell went for it.

He stepped closer to her, making his meaning clear. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Her mouth opened in a small, round ‘o’ as she looked up at him. She didn’t step away.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I rather like that.”

Severus’ eyes flashed at her and his mouth formed a smirking smile. She bit her lip, stepped sideways from him and began walking away.

“See you around, Snape.” She smiled at him cheekily over her shoulder.

Oh yes, this is going to be a fucking fantastic year.

Chapter Text

The first week of classes went relatively well, and Hermione paid extra attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She would be reporting to Dumbledore regularly on Karkaroff’s behaviour during classes. While this was all Dumbledore had really asked of her, she was determined to drudge up more information about the DADA teacher one way or another. It was quite possible that he had not joined Voldemort yet and that there was no reason to worry, but he remained a suspicious character in her book.

In that first class, which contained students from all four houses due to a unique scheduling arrangement, Igor Karkaroff had done his best to win over the students. He was attempting currently to entrance the class with tales of conquering beasts and tricking magical beings found in Slavic lore. It did work, Hermione noted, and most of the girls in the class were wide-eyed and attentive.

Like Lockhart had, Karkaroff had an ability to be charming when he recounted his adventures (which might have been similarly invented). While Hermione remembered the man as being somewhat slimy and disingenuous, he was clearly a better actor in his youth. He was tall, with piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and an attractive hint of stubble in his face. He was in his mid-30s now, she would have guessed by looking at him. Close to the age the Professor Snape she left in 1997 was.

Unbiddenly, her mind wandered to the idea that Karkaroff was similar in looks to Snape. She had to keep herself from shuddering violently with disgust once that thought hit.

Perhaps a small resemblance could be true, she forced herself to concede objectively. There was even a darkness they each held in their mannerisms and nature. Karkaroff was the dark magician now, playing a deceitful slight of hand to hide his true nature. He appeared sly now, and she could see how the other young women might find that interesting.

Severus, however…

He was the dark enigma. He was the darkness of the night sky, of the void surrounding the planets. He held the darkness of water at night, with unknown fathoms held beneath the depths. His darkness was not necessarily sadistic or abhorrent, at least not the darkness of the man she knew. No, Severus Snape had a darkness that was mystery, which could reveal almost any answer to Hermione. Mystery could be dark, fearsome, powerful, intoxicating, threatening, yet deeply satisfying all at once. Yes, that was the difference in the two men. Whatever their apparent surface similarities, the darkness was markedly distinct.

Hermione realized she had become as glassy-eyed as the other female students, though she was thinking of someone else entirely.

“…the Firebird! And I was able to get this!” Karkaroff pulled something quickly out of the inner pocket of his cloak and Hermione heard gasps from a few students. She craned her neck to see him holding out a large feather in his hand.

The feather had the colors of fire, just as the name Firebird implied. Most of the feather was a yellowish-gold color that shone and glimmered in the light. Similar to a peacock feather, this one ended in a rounded palm frond with the shape of an eye in the center of the frond. The outer ring of the eye was a deep orange, while the inner circle was a vibrant, blood-like red.

“Is the legend about the Firebird true?” Someone called out.

“Da!” Professor Karkaroff nearly shouted. His eyes gleamed and he held a haughty, self-satisfied look to his face. “Nox.” He incanted.

The room immediately became dark.

After a moment’s silence, there was a bright flash of light that slowly eased into a warm glow. Professor Karkaroff was visible holding the Firebird feather above his head, lighting up the entire room with its shining colors.

The classroom exploded with ‘oohs’, cheers, and clapping as Karkaroff’s face glowed in triumph. Hermione did her best to keep her face straight but suspected it was something like a grimace. She raised her hand, sighing.

Grinning madly at the attention, Karkaroff called on her. “It’s not just a phoenix?” She asked. “The Firebird, I mean?” The room grew quieter and she heard a few murmurs of agreement.

Karkaroff’s grin turned into an icily polite smile. “No, the Firebird is far rarer than the phoenix. It only reveals itself every few centuries to bestow its blessing on the worthiest. I carry the feather on my person always to show my gratitude.”

“I thought it was also cursed,” said a quiet voice in the back of the room. This had come from Calliope, who had also been listening attentively.

“Supposedly,” Karkaroff smirked and shrugged nonchalantly. “There have been so few to even encounter such a creature. Even muggles know of the stories, which they can easily misinterpret without magic.”

“My gran told me death follows it,” a Hufflepuff girl chimed in.

“Yes, that’s right,” Mateo Reinero answered. “A blessing of protection, yet a harbinger of death. It curses despite its protection because… well, what good is being safe from harm if those around you aren’t?”

“Whatever,” a Slytherin with blonde hair interjected, waving her hand dismissively. “Does it do anything? The feather, that is?”

“A catalyst.” Heads swiveled to the back of the room and Hermione’s spine tingled, recognizing the low voice from anywhere despite lacking the additional gravel of age. “A catalyst for spells and potions.”

“Very good, Mr… Snape, is it?” Karkaroff nodded. “The Firebird’s feather acts as a catalyst which may be used in many potions to speed up reaction time. It is quite possible that the number of uses is infinite. More research must be done.” Karkaroff finally stowed the feather back in his inner robe pocket. “Now! For defensive and protective tactics, as you all are not so fortunate to have a blessed protection as I do…”

After classes that afternoon, Hermione went straight to her room before dinner to update her journal.

Hermione kept meticulous notes in the leatherbound journal that she had received from the Room of Requirement what felt like such a long time ago. It had only been a year since her first Order mission (a little less in fact, after having skipped over the summer months when going back in time) but it felt like a lifetime ago that Hermione had gone on the journey. It was the first time she had seen a different side to Severus Snape; the first time she had even thought of him as anything other than her surly Professor.

She documented everything, keeping a mixture of an index and a diary. Otherwise, it might be hard to keep her stories straight. The notes on the Firebird feather would go in as well, for it pertained to Karkaroff, not only to classwork.

She reached into her beaded bag to get an extra bottle of ink and pulled when she felt a clink.

It was not ink. It was the antivenin.

That’s right. Hermione frowned. Dumbledore had insisted she take the two vials with her on her journey back in time. I’m still sure at least one of these is meant to go to Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo’s.  

She nearly laughed at her next thought. Maybe it simply makes more sense to do all the time traveling at once? Don’t stop back in the present for a pit stop, just keep going up through the years and deliver these as planned.

After checking that the vials still had the permanent freezing charm on them to keep them stable, she placed them gently back in her purple beaded bag and continued her notetaking.  

As September neared its end, Hermione was slowly getting used to attending seventh-year N.E.W.T classes that took place twenty years before her present reality. She had become adept at figuring out just the right number of times to raise her hand to answer a question to participate without drawing undue notice, and she never added on ridiculous numbers of inches to her essays.

On her birthday, she discovered that she was nearly a full year older than her birthdate should have made her. She thought about it, and admitted it was quite possible that using the Time-Turner had gotten ahead of her.

About a month into her third year at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall had pulled her into the Head of House’s office, given her a cup of tea, and strictly told her to use the Time-Turner she had more often.

“Bu- but Professor,” Hermione had protested. “I intend to abide by the contract I signed-”

“No, Miss Granger, I insist.” Professor McGonagall looked at her sternly. “You are taking three additional courses with class time, study time, and homework time combined. You have also expressed a desire to take the advanced track of both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, which will each require an extra hour of class each week and additional paper writing. If you don’t start using the Time-Turner more often, it’ll be 24 hours or more for you between sleeping periods, and we can’t have that.”

“But… but I can’t be seen. Not in two places at once. I mean, I would probably understand if I saw myself, but if anyone else did…”

“What do you need, Miss Granger? You need to be using the Time-Turner more often in order to keep sane and healthy, and… I am determined to make this work for you.” Minerva McGonagall met her eyes with a fiercely kind look. I will help you whatever you say, so you must allow me to.

“I… I’d need somewhere else to sleep. An extra place so there could be two of me sleeping at a time, if need be.”

McGonagall nodded and called out, “Fissy!”

A house elf cracked into the room. “Please show Miss Granger to the private guest room across from my chamber.” She turned back to Hermione. “I know I do not need to mention to amount of trust you have been granted.”

“No! Not at all, Ma’am. I won’t disappoint.”

Hermione Granger used the guest quarters for the rest of the year, though less often after Easter when she had dropped Divination. She did take advantage of the order to use the Time-Turner more often, and it was all done for schoolwork purposes. Reading and re-reading the course materials, adding additional inches to each essay, even checking out the books mentioned in the textbook’s footnotes to peruse alongside the primary materials.

More times than she could count, she found herself falling asleep reading on the guest quarters’ couch. She would wake up the next morning to immediately check the time, turn back the hourglass, step past her snoring self on the couch and sleep further on the bed before waking up refreshed. Sometimes there were three or four sleeping Hermione Grangers and one still up late working.

It explained why she was only a month or two from being 19 now, instead of 18.

Her date of birth passed unacknowledged. Hermione was not upset; she hadn’t told any of her new friends, and she hadn’t wanted the attention. She was preoccupied with the social aspects of her life.

First, she had been growing closer to Lily and the other girls. Ellie had begun to open up a little bit about her fear of failure (to which Hermione could easily relate), Marina was very silly and had shared many anecdotes of the last six years at Hogwarts, and Callie was reserved and stern as ever, but she was the only one Hermione could discuss arithmantic theory with. Hermione was still trying to crack the hard shell that was Lily Evans, but they had bonded a little over their experiences growing up in the muggle world.

Plus, there was still Severus.

Hermione and the young Severus Snape had started to dance around each other. There was not much talking involved, nor truly much actual interaction, but the glances back and forth were there. Hermione couldn’t help but blush when looking at him. Even if she hid a small, contented smile from him when their eyes met, once she would look away, the smile would involuntarily appear on her face as if she was hiding her own precious secret.

She was. The secret was how wonderful she thought the future version of him would turn out to be, even if it was an idiotic idea to tell him that now.

It was. It was beyond idiotic to flirt with him, to fancy him, even to treat him kindly when Lily Evans hated the very sight of him, but Hermione found herself behaving like an idiot quite often.

At the first Slug Club gathering of the year, she had idiotically met his eyes more than once from across the room until he had smirked, raised an eyebrow, and lifted his cup of pumpkin juice to her before bringing it to his lips. Unfortunately, she had been standing in a group and the motion was noticed.

“Keen on the Slytherins, are you Anna?” Arabella leaned in to speak to her, having seen the gesture. “Most of them are too dreary and serious for my taste, but perhaps Snape is hiding some fire. I understand the attraction to the bad boys.” Hermione bit her lip to keep in a retort, but blushed furiously despite herself.

“Snape?” Lily was standing a few feet away and had heard the end of the conversation. She turned her head, frowning, trying to figure out what Hermione and Arabella had been saying, but the arrival of Professor Slughorn distracted her.

“Ah, what a promising group of young ladies! All Gryffindors in this friend group, I see- oh. Oh, I am sorry Miss Dalton, I didn’t see you there. Still playing Quidditch? Good, good. And how is your Uncle, Miss Cook?”

“He’s heading up the research department at St. Mungo’s, Professor. Working on spell damage, I believe.” Arabella replied politely.

“Splendid, splendid! I’m sure you’ll follow after the rest of your family. Maybe even marry a Smethwyck or a Pye, eh? Oh, too soon, too soon. You’re young yet, I apologize. Oh, but perhaps I can play matchmaker in a different way? Reinero! McLaggen! Snape!”

Slughorn turned and gestured to a few different areas of the room to pull the men into the ladies’ group. Lily bristled and she straightened as the ones who were called bustled over. Hermione had gagged on the drink she was holding and nearly choked when she had heard the name McLaggen. Marlene began whacking her roughly on the back and Ellie looked on concerned as Hermione breathlessly waved her off. Slughorn was too focused on the arrival of the others to the conversation group and didn’t notice.

“Why, here we have a whole number of Quidditch players, don’t we? Miss Dalton and Mr. Reinero are for Ravenclaw, and Miss McKinnon, Mr. McLaggen, and, yes, Mr. Snape, aren’t you all beaters for your houses?”

Slughorn was apparently trying to match students up merely because they played the same position on rival teams. Hermione hadn’t realized Severus had made the Quidditch team yet, but she had hardly paid any attention to tryout announcements. She thought he almost looked like his older self as he listened to Slughorn talk. He was standing stock still, holding a drink in his hand and looking somewhat bored. His dark eyes scanned the group and fell on her for a moment longer than the others before moving back to Slughorn.

“Keepers, actually, sir.” The one he called McLaggen answered. He was tall, blond, and burly with a roguish grin. He turned to Hermione and held out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Tiberius McLaggen. I’m the Keeper for Hufflepuff, as the Professor mentioned.”

“This is Miss Perri,” Slughorn answered for her as she opened her mouth. She closed it and smiled thinly at McLaggen, some of her frustration at being spoken for seeping through. Nevertheless, she held out her hand and shook his quickly before dropping it. She chanced a quick glance at Severus out of the corner of her eye and she saw his tiny tick at the corner of his mouth. Amused, but trying to hide it, she thought.

Hermione had missed some of what Slughorn was saying before she tuned back in. “…but I don’t believe I know any Perri in my acquaintance. I admit, I am not acquainted with the foreign wizarding communities as much as the British ones, which is why the exchange students are all here tonight! Tell me, Miss Perri, do you have any inventors in your family like the McLaggens do?”

There was a slight pause as the heads in the group all swiveled towards her. She sensed, however, that the students throughout the room were listening, not only the ones standing around Slughorn. There was an imperceptible breath being held.

“I… I can’t say, Professor.” She said quietly.

“Oh, I… I don’t mean to pry, I don’t quite hold to blood purities, but it’s no shame if you’re the first witch in your family-”

“NO! No, I’m a half-blood Professor,” she said, a little too emphatically. Come on, Hermione!

“Oh yes, yes, of course.” Slughorn was trying to be genial and friendly, but he really was only interested in collecting contacts, and clearly wanted to know if she had any famous people at her disposal. “So, your mother is the witch then? Would I know…”

Fucking shit, she thought worriedly.

“Granger.” Hermione said, her mask of politeness completely fragile at this point. “My mother’s maiden name is Granger.” I’ve basically just switched the surnames of my parents. Ironic.

She glanced around the group and the room and realized the intake of breath had been from some Slytherins and other purebloods. I’m either a target as a mudblood or an ally as a pureblood. I suppose I have to solidify the identity as a half-blood then.

“Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Granger? The famous Potioneer?” This question came from Arabella, who sounded impressed. “He developed a lot of the newer antidote formulas used in healing magic,” she explained to Marlene, who nodded in understanding.

“Distantly, yes.” Hermione said, resigned to give herself some pureblood credentials in the only way she knew how.

Slughorn made a noise of approval and Severus looked interested. After a few brief remarks on her famous background, along with insistences that he really was quite distant of a relation, the surrounding group appeared to lose interest.

As quickly as the tension had rippled around the room, it dissipated again. Tiberius McLaggen focused on speaking to Arabella and Lily, Mateo Reinero had wandered over to a dark-haired Hufflepuff transfer student, and Marlene had found James Potter on the other side of the room and they appeared to be discussing Quidditch.

“Well, well, Miss Perri. It seems there’s a bright future for you!” Slughorn proclaimed, belly shaking with his chuckles. “Do you have any ambitions? Aspirations? I know you don’t play sport like the others, but perhaps you have an idea of going into Potions like your relatives?”

Hermione realized it was only Snape, Slughorn, and herself in the conversation group now and no one cared to listen. How can I possibly make him forget about me now? Think, Hermione, think.

It came to her, and Hermione smiled at Slughorn almost wickedly.

“Actually, Professor,” she replied demurely, “I don’t have any great ambitions at all apart from starting a family. My greatest aspiration is to be a wife and a mother, perhaps a career later. I doubt you’ll hear about me at all for at least… oh, the next twenty years.”

She smiled sweetly at him as the Professor sputtered in embarrassed shock, too polite to tell her to think of something else to do with her youth. He waved a hasty retreat and bumbled away just as Hermione turned to see Severus break into laughter.

Hermione was surprised to see him laughing, but she soon snorted and joined in. It was wonderful to see him actually in full laughter, something she had wanted for ages. They were starting to get a few odd looks just as they wound down.

Severus tried to school his expression back to the bored, indifferent face, but his mouth held a slight uptick now and his eyes were dark with amusement. She grinned broadly up at him.

“You would make a poor Slytherin, Perri,” he said in a low tone. “He’s only trying to help you gain status and glory for yourself. I thought Gryffindors cared about that too.”

“Pfft,” Hermione waved her hand annoyedly. “He only cares about status for himself by collecting contacts. He won’t collect me, thank you very much.”

“Yes,” Severus drawled. “I’m afraid you are completely uninteresting to him now. He probably won’t invite you to any more of these events. You may rest assured that your lie did the trick.” He smirked at her, and his eyes shone playfully.

“It’s a shame that he thinks that.” Hermione said thoughtfully. “It’s every woman’s right to choose her path, even if it’s marrying young and having children right away. It shouldn’t make that choice any less worthy.”

Hermione couldn’t help but think of Lily’s future then, determined that Lily Evans Potter should get her brief happily ever after, even if she was still destined to be murdered by Lord Voldemort. She quickly shook the thought away, not wanting to dwell on her new friend’s early demise.

“Besides,” Hermione smiled coyly at Severus, “how do you know I wasn’t telling the truth? I could very well want marriage and babies directly on the horizon. Why, I could be on the prowl.”

Severus smirked at her. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, dark hair swinging forward over his shoulders.

“That would hardly make you less interesting to me, Perri.” He purred in her ear.

Severus straightened back up and appeared positively feral as he looked down at her. Hermione was blushing furiously, but her eyes were shining up at him.

She found herself openly staring at him for a few brief seconds that felt like eternity. She was being pulled into the dark mystery, the crashing waves in the dark water, the intensity and the power.

“Oy, Perri!” Hermione jolted and noticed a malignant sneer come across Snape’s face as she turned her head to see who it was. She blanched as she saw three of the Marauders making their way toward her. Pettigrew was not important enough to be invited to a Slug Club meeting, apparently.

“We’ve come over to fetch you, Perri,” James said genially as Hermione lowered her eyes. She had trouble meeting James’ gaze whenever he was around. He really did look like a slightly-taller, louder version of Harry. “Evans wanted a word.”

“And clearly, you’re in need of rescuing,” Sirius chimed in, stepping closer to her and looking at Snape suspiciously.

Hermione bristled as she felt Sirius step closer. Though she would have enjoyed his company in other circumstances, he did make her feel uncomfortable in this time. He was always flirting, which felt strange considering the relationship they had shared in the future, and it bothered her that he stepped it up when Snape was around. She chanced a glance back at Severus and he looked livid.

“Anna, I heard you were related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, is that true?” Remus was trying to politely change the subject, it seemed.

Hermione nodded, looking down still, her throat growing drier. It seems like it was impossible to avoid this lot if she was a Gryffindor and ever looked in Snape’s direction.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure Remus knows. Will know, I mean.

“Well then, Perri,” Snape sneered, “I won’t keep you from your… friends.” He nodded sharply before turning and slowly walking away.

Hermione meekly followed the boys over to Lily, Arabella, and Ellie. They were whispering together as she approached.

As she arrived, she turned and glanced over to see Severus, but she couldn’t find him. He appeared to have left the room.

The next evening, the girls’ study group was in the library. It was a rare night without Ravenclaw Quidditch practice or prefect rounds, so the entire group was there when Hermione arrived. As she walked up to the table, she noticed that they eerily fell silent, and all turned to look at her.

“What?” She said, as she placed her bag down on the table. She reached in to get a few books, quill, ink, and parchment, but still found the girls silent. Elpida and Marina were both avoiding her gaze, Calliope was hiding behind her Charms book, clearly pretending to read, and Lily was… staring right at her.

“Anna,” Lily said. “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” Hermione said. “What about?”

“About Snape. You can’t keep looking at him and talking to him like you have been. Arabella told me it’s different in Italy, people are friendlier, it’s a different culture… Anyway, I’m telling you that you can’t keep talking to him like that. People will get the wrong idea.” Lily’s green eyes flashed dangerously.

Hermione almost snorted and rolled her eyes. Lily was similar to Harry; intelligent, but lacking subtlety.

“What idea?” Hermione said casually, opening her Transfiguration book.

“That you… well, that you fancy him or something.”

“Oh, I do fancy him,” Hermione replied, not looking up from the page she had turned to. Despite her casual manner, she found herself blushing. More out of satisfaction than embarrassment, she realized. This was the first she was even able to admit the thought aloud, since Severus was her peer now and not her Professor.

This admission broke the silence around the table and a chorus of reactions came forth, causing Hermione to finally look up.

“Oh wow,” Marina said, eyes wide.

“He is rather witty,” Ellie nodded and smiled.

“I see,” Callie said quietly as she lowered her book and stared quizzically at her.

Lily was silently fuming. Hermione saw her breathe slowly a few times to calm herself before responding.

“How can you like him, Anna? He’s a Death Eater, he has to be! He’s friends with Mulciber and Avery and Rosier and… and even that troll Wilkes is hanging around him now! Would you fancy or even be friends with someone who wanted me and my family dead?” Yes, Lily had a temper too, and Hermione was very much reminded of Harry.

Callie put her hand on Lily’s arm and shushed her as her voice began to grow louder. They were still in the library, after all.

“Well,” Hermione said slowly, “you’re right. I don’t know very much about him. I don’t know if he ascribes to those beliefs, and I wouldn’t approve if he did. My father’s a muggle, and he has been pretty nice to me so far, but maybe that’s only…” She gulped, realizing she had no idea about a young Snape’s motivations. “…Maybe that’s only the debt he owes me.” She looked slightly crestfallen at the thought, despite herself.

Hiding her feelings and opinions was never something she was particularly good at.

“Oh, Annie,” Ellie cried out, noticing Hermione’s distress. “Don’t be upset, you’ll find someone!” Hermione was a bit startled, as Elpida wasn’t typically so heartfelt or affectionate to her. She returned a half-smile to the blonde-haired girl.

“Oh absolutely!” Marina exclaimed. “There are loads better options than Snape. Why I know even-”

“Shhh! Please, I do not want Madam Pince kicking us out again!” Callie hissed.

“They’re right, Anna.” Lily said calmly. “There are a lot of better options than Snape.” Lily looked up at her, green eyes meeting hers. After a long moment’s stare, Lily’s eyes drifted down to the parchment in front of her. “We can find you another person to fancy,” she said nonchalantly.

The alpha in the group having spoken, the other girls looked away and returned to their studying.

 Hermione looked back down at her book, but found it hard to concentrate. Her eyes were stinging and she knew she was close to tears, having finally found the thing that could break apart her new-found friend group. It was also the thing that could compromise the mission to protect Lily, as Hermione would no longer be able to get close to her if she was ostracized.

It was also the thing that Hermione felt powerless to fight.

This is why I don’t have any girlfriends, she thought bitterly. All gossip and jealousy and no evidence.

Hermione recalled then that Callie had challenged Lily before about the Slytherin’s Death Eater associations due to lack of evidence. She glanced up at the dark-haired girl with the thickly-rimmed frames, hoping to catch an indication of solidarity, but finding none.

Maybe I can speak to her alone another time, she thought.

After a very successful Potions class in which Slughorn had called her both Miss Peregrine and Miss Perikles, Hermione exited to a throng of students filling the hallway. So elated was she about Slughorn forgetting Miss Anna Perri, that she didn’t even notice when Severus Snape slipped up beside her in the corridor.

“Perri.” He gestured her over to walk with him. Hermione craned her neck to see over the students in front of her, but the girls in her study group had all dispersed in the flow of students in the corridor and didn’t appear to notice her.

“Snape.” She said, trying her best for an indifferent affect.

“I think I have figured out a way to repay you.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“Walk with me.”

They continued walking until they came along a part of the corridors where there were no students or teachers, all having fled to enjoy the fresh air in the mid-afternoon before dinner. Hermione’s heart sped up a few beats when she saw there was no one to disturb them. Despite herself, she thought of the few delicious interactions she had had with Professor Snape in empty corridors or classrooms.

“Yes, well?” She said, trying to disguise her flustered, out-of-breath demeanor for impatience.

“I should like to help you,” he said lightly. “I think you may be in need of my… services.”

Hermione flushed immediately, her mind immediately going to services which he better not be talking about. “What?” She nearly stammered.

Snape lost none of his cool affect. “You’re no spring chicken, Perri. As much as you try to fool the others into thinking you’re a shy, meek transfer student, I can see that you aren’t.”

She glared at him, still bright red and actually irritated now. “I’m not trying to fool anyone.”

“No?” His upper lip curled in amusement as one eyebrow twitched. “You don’t appear to be lacking in so-called Gryffindor bravery, yet you are completely cowed and sometimes even turn tail and run whenever you see Potter and his gang of buffoons.” He frowned in thought. “Apart from Pettigrew. You don’t appear to be afraid of that… rat.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I’m not afraid of any of them.”

“Yet you run.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Let’s say… walk away swiftly.” She said, slowly cracking a small smile.

He smirked and her heart did a little backflip in her chest. That look.

“If you aren’t already aware of it… the Marauders,” he sneered “and I… do not get along.”

She snorted. “That’s putting it mildly, Snape.”

He inclined his head in agreement. “I suspect you simply dislike them and are merely pretending to be absurdly timid as an excuse to avoid them; yet I can hardly fault a working strategy.” His dark eyes gazed down at her. “Therefore, I offer you my services. If you wish for Potter and Black and the rest to leave you be, then the fastest way to ensure this is… to spend as much time with me as possible.” The last part of the sentence was said a little faster than the beginning, and Severus’ eyes had widened. She noticed his hands twitching at his sides as he waited for her response.

“Hmmm. Let me think.” She playfully raised her finger to her face and pursed her lips in mock contemplation, though she couldn’t help the escaping grin.

Severus appeared satisfied at gesture, his hands now resting calmly. His face took on a smirking, smoldering look.

Hermione blushed as she looked up at him and decided that flirting like an idiot was the most thrilling thing in the world.

“Come now, Perri,” he said bemusedly, moving closer to her. “Don’t think you aren’t getting anything out of the bargain. No matter how dull I am, it must be better than hearing Black drone on about himself.”

“You aren’t dull!” She gasped, quickly turning it into a laugh as she playfully nudged his arm. She noticed that he flinched at the touch, and she quickly withdrew.

“No,” she corrected soberly, “much of my reluctance is that you are quite interesting, and I’ve already been warned off.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the reply would no longer have been lighthearted. She opted not to answer and closed her mouth. God, Severus, why did you have to be a Death Eater in this time? You are already, aren’t you?

Slowly, the silence thickened the air between them. The smiles faded, and they simply stared at each other tensely.

“I think you know why.” She said quietly, looking away. Her face surely showed some of the pain she felt. “Your… politics are distasteful.”

Severus was quiet then. She chanced a glance up at him and saw his mouth was flat, but his hands twitched slightly, and his eyes stilled in thought.

“Then… perhaps we shall discuss our political inclinations… in our first meeting. You may ask any questions you like and get clarification.” He met her eyes, and she noted some vulnerability within them. That had been a question.

“That sounds acceptable, Mr. Snape,” Hermione responded politely. “However, you should know that you have me pegged correctly. I am no spring chicken, I am not afraid, and I will not hesitate to tell you my true opinions on any subject matter,” she said firmly, raising her eyebrows pointedly.

“Then, Miss Perri, I shall be all ears.”

Chapter Text

The Headmaster looked at her quizzically over his half-moon spectacles. “Anything else, Miss Perri?”

Hermione had just finished informing Dumbledore about her observations of Karkaroff over the last few weeks of classes and inter-castle run-ins.

From her estimate, Igor Karkaroff appeared invested in teaching and spoke frequently of his own history of defeating dark creatures and harmful entities. There was the Firebird he had been blessed by, whose feather he had proudly shown in class; the Lesnik of the forest whom he referred to as “he himself”, “the forest one”, and even “the righteous woodsman”, which made her look oddly at the man as more spiritually inclined than she realized; and the Azhdaya, some sort of mix between a dragon and a serpent and a chimera. Karkaroff mentioned many other creatures, but Hermione was able to confirm that he was merely using the translated words for creatures they had already heard of such as Vampire, Werewolf, Grindylow, and Pixie.

Upon further research, she discovered that the Firebird was indeed different from the Phoenix, as it did not die and rise again in ashes but was immortal. If Karkaroff truly possessed a Firebird feather, he could perhaps even create a Philosopher’s Stone with it, as it was hypothesized that the feather could help create immortality. Though there was some idea of seriously bad luck said to accompany it, the texts in the library had mentioned, so Hermione was unsure as to whether the feather should be removed from his possession at all or it was better to let him have at it.

The Lesnik was also known as the Leshy, and was so reclusive that there was not a consensus as to whether it was a dark creature or not. Based on Karkaroff’s awe-induced religious language, however, Hermione was inclined to think it should be categorized as deviant, at least. The Azhdaya was so dangerous that she was sure Karkaroff was making this one up. There is no way he would have survived an encounter with that particular creature.

Hermione told Dumbledore that Karkaroff was excited about teaching. He appeared all too excited to prepare them to encounter the same beings he had. “Be ready for the dark ones,” he had said more than once with a gleaming grin. To sum up, there was nothing incriminating she had seen, but many things were suspicious.

She took a deep breath and answered Dumbledore’s query. “Yes, I’ve made progress on my purpose for being here.”

He made a ‘hmmph’ sound as he nodded. “Keeping an eye on Miss Evans…and Mr. Snape, then?”

Hermione met his eyes, narrowing hers, and merely gave him an unconvincing, cold smile.

“I see. You have no intention of telling me about that, do you?”

“No, sir.”

“You will at least have to inform me of some things,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

“Such as?”

“Current events.” He said simply. “I was already informed about the earlier incident with Mr. Snape by the lake, and I know that Miss Evans was present. I suppose you do not have anything to add?”

She kept her stance. He knew she didn’t have anything to add, or he would have sent for her earlier. Witnesses were questioned by Heads of House, who must have reported to Dumbledore privately. “No, sir. I didn’t see who the attacker was.”

“Nor would you tell me if you knew.” He said, showing no signs of disturbance.

“What do you mean by that?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t I disclose the attacker?”

“I was under the impression that you were here to protect students from potential Death Eaters, including Severus Snape.”

“Yes, but- but I didn’t say I was going to have him killed! Or stand by and let him die! I’m- I’m here to avoid that kind of thing. Prevent it.”

Dumbledore met her eyes. “And should it come to protecting Miss Evans or any others…at the cost of another’s life? Can you do what must be done?”

Hermione snarled at him, not caring that he was in authority over her. “That, sir, is none of your business.” She said bitingly. “Who knows, perhaps you sent me back on purpose just so I would fail.”

She stomped out of the office immediately after, determined not to meet with him again for a while.

October began with the perfect weather, and it was a shame that the first quidditch match was not until November. The temperature was warm and the wind was cool and gentle, so the outdoors was the place for all the students to be when classes were not in session. Hermione found herself sitting with the girls in the courtyard or on the grounds, or even in the Quidditch stands when Gryffindor or Ravenclaw were practicing.

Hermione did not watch much of the practices, but read while sitting in the stands with the other girls. Marlene would join them when Ravenclaw was practicing in order to silently view the rival team’s strategy, just as Elpida did when it was Gryffindor on the pitch. Lily and Marina would giggle and watch the Gryffindors with rapt attention, and even Arabella showed up once or twice, as she had taken a liking to one of the chasers.

One evening, Arabella even helped Hermione fix her curls to be less frizzy and a bit softer. Arabella, as it turns out, did not have naturally curly hair. A few beauty spells and a lower-powered drying spell later, and Hermione had a fast and easy hair care routine. It was something she never would have bothered with before, but it’s funny what spending time with girls more often did to one’s perspective.

The rapport with the other girls had not ended, as she had feared. Even Lily had warmed to her, although Hermione had not had an opportunity to “meet” with Severus yet. At first, Hermione was a little hurt, fearing he had changed his mind. After observing him as subtly as possible, however, she ascertained that he was simply busy.

Severus Snape was the Slytherin keeper now, which kept him busy three or four nights a week with Quidditch training. He attended the odd Slug Club meeting, Hermione noted, and she was still invited as well (so Slughorn could save face, she suspected) but chose to attend sparingly to make it easier for the full-bellied professor to forget her.

Just about every other evening that remained, Hermione was able to account for him exactly. He was in the library, studying alone in a table by the far back. He would be escorted by no fewer than three Slytherins to the library, sometimes walking him all the way to the table before speaking to him briefly, sometimes even handing him something written on a piece of parchment. Severus would nod, and they would file out, smirking to each other. Then Severus would spend the rest of the evening there. Hermione even glanced over one night as she and Marina were packing up their things to see him slumped over onto an open book, being shaken awake by Madam Pince. He was scolded and told to go to bed before she took points from Slytherin. Severus scowled at her but slumped his shoulders and reluctantly gathered up his books to leave. Hermione met his eyes as he shoved his books into his bag. His grimace deepened and he swung his hair into his face, hiding from her in embarrassment.

Finally, the night came.

Marina and Lily had prefect and Head Girl duties to perform, and they left immediately from dinner, joining Calliope and the prefects from the other houses. Elpida walked with Hermione to the library, chatting happily about the early Ministry applications she had submitted. When they reached their regular table and were beginning to sit down, Hermione felt a brush against her arm before Severus’s dark figure came into view. He plopped down in the seat across from hers and began putting his books on the table.

“Dalton,” he said curtly without looking up from unloading his bag. “Perri.”

Ellie and Hermione stood there, unsure what move to make.

“But- this-” Ellie sputtered. “This is our table, Snape. Don’t you normally sit over there?” She gestured towards his more secluded table.

He looked up, now having spread his books out over the entire half of the table on his side. “Until the sun sets, I prefer not to sit there. The window faces west.”

Sure enough, the table in the back was close to a window that was bathing it with early-evening sunlight. It was sure to give any occupant an uncomfortable glare as the sun set over the horizon.

Ellie looked slowly from Snape to Hermione, who was biting her lip, unsure of what to do. Oh, she had no problem with Snape sitting here, but did Ellie? Would she report back to Lily?

“You know,” Ellie said slowly, as her blue eyes widened in thought, “I just remembered that I promised Trudy I would go over Charms work with her tonight. She prefers to study in the common room. You don’t mind, do you, Annie?”

“I…umm, no, I…”

“Splendid! I’ll just be off then.” Elpida grabbed her bag back up and started walking away.

“Wait!” Hermione dashed after her, leaving her bag at the table. “Ellie,” she whispered, turning them so their backs were to Severus. They were a few paces away and shouldn’t be heard if they kept their voices low enough. “I- you… you won’t say anything about…”

“Annie,” she said pointedly, raising her eyebrows. “Don’t you want me to give you some alone time right now?”

Hermione frowned. “Won’t Lily be cross?”

“Probably.” Elpida nodded seriously. “That’s why I wouldn’t worry her about it.”

Hermione grinned at her and Ellie smiled genially back. She turned and walked away a few more paces and Hermione frowned again, turned, and followed her. “Wait, wait,” she whispered again. “Why aren’t you cross? You aren’t a Death Eater sympathizer, are you?”

Ellie turned around, bug-eyed and mouth open in shocked consternation. “NO! Why would-”

“Shhh!” Hermione successfully shushed her and grabbed the taller girl’s arm to pull her closer. “I just thought that’s why she was disapproving about Snape…” She whispered.

“Yes, well that’s what you’re going to find out, right? If she even has anything to be worried about, I mean. I trust your judgment.” Ellie tucked her dirty-blonde hair behind her ears after it had swung forward from her earlier outburst. “You aren’t a Death Eater sympathizer either, Annie.”

“No,” Hermione agreed, smiling. “I’m not.”

“It is alright if I call you Annie? You’ll fit right in. We’ll just start calling Marina 'Mari' and then everyone will have an ‘ee’ ending to their name. Lily, Callie, Ellie, you know.”

“Of course, you can. She’ll be happy as long as she figures out how to make that into a band name for us.”

The girls grinned at each other before separating. Hermione’s heart started pattering as she saw Severus eyeing her from the table.

She sat down across from him and unpacked her bag. He looked back down at his work and quietly began to pick up his quill as Hermione settled herself. Just as she thought he wouldn’t say anything about the girls’ exchange, he spoke.

“Worried about sitting near me?” He drawled, not looking up from whatever he was writing.

“Oh no,” she countered. “Just worried about getting in trouble for it. It’ll be alright, she won’t tattle.”

He snorted, glancing up at her. “Who would she tattle to? McGonagall would congratulate you for peaceful inter-house relations.”

“Not a teacher. I just didn’t want the other girls to get on me again.”

He answered in a sardonic voice. “You care too much about what your friends think.”

“If only we could ignore how other people view us,” Hermione said quietly.

Severus put down the quill and brought his head fully up to look at her.

“And it would be Lily she would tattle to,” Hermione said calmly. “She told me you are a Death Eater, as evidenced by the company you keep. If I associate with you, I am either in mortal peril or I am a sympathizer with those who wish her dead.”

“The company I keep,” he sneered, “is out of necessity. I am a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. I do not have the luxury of associating only with… saints. I cannot afford to act out of some self-important, misguided attempt at honour or justice.”

“As I said. We cannot ignore how other people view us.” She said matter-of-factly, returning to her Potions assignment.

After a few minutes of working in silence, he spoke again.

“I keep the company I do because of those who wish me dead.” He said quietly.

Hermione looked up at him, expression open. One good point in her favor was that she had always been adept at showing active listening skills. Her eyes were focused, bright, and alert whenever she was interested in the conversation. Severus must have noticed this in the look she gave him, and he continued.

“There have been attempts on my life here at Hogwarts. I say attempts in the plural, and prior to this school year.” Severus’ eyes were narrowed, and his face was held in barely concealed anger. “The company I keep is entirely necessary.”

“I understand,” she said quietly. “If no one had been by the lake…”

“Yes,” he said stiffly. “As I already said, I intend to repay the debt to you.”

“No, I just mean…” She shook her head, curls bouncing, unbothered by him owing her anything. “If it’s happened before, you’ve had back-up before. Or other help-”

“Luck, mostly.” He said, losing the angry expression and looking contemplative, if stern. “I have been capable of defending myself for the most part or making it to safety before too much blood loss.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her face took on a look between hurt and anger. She was not surprised, however. She had known about the incident in the Shrieking Shack for a few years, though the Marauders had been painted in a much better light in Harry’s telling of it. James Potter had saved Snape’s life after Sirius Black had… led him into a werewolf-laden trap.

Severus noticed her reaction. He appeared to be calmed further by her disturbance at the danger he faced simply by existing. “The… incident last month did spur me on to keep the company of my housemates more often.”

“Well,” she said, half-smiling at him and trying to grasp at any possible silver lining of Severus being hunted down on a regular basis. “I suppose it’s good you have friends to confide in then.” She was enheartened that he was confiding in her. Perhaps he would accept her friendship, if she could give it.

“Friends?” He frowned. “You mean the other Slytherins?”

“Yes, who were they again? Evan Rosier, John Avery-”

“Paul Wilkes and Milton Mulciber as well, but no, they aren’t friends. Hardly even acquaintances, really. Rosier is an alright sort, but the rest...” He grimaced in dislike. “No, they simply have an eye for a mutually-beneficial arrangement, just as I do.”

Hermione frowned now. “What, they escort you here, act as your protection, and you…?” She trailed off, waiting for him to enlighten her.

He was silent, and she could see that he didn’t fully trust her yet.

Hermione had seen him here for hours on end every free night he had, falling asleep in his chair frequently. She suspected he might have found a way to stay in the library after curfew as well, when she noticed he hadn’t left one night, not emerging from the stacks when the clock chimed the warning bell. The stacks in question put him out of view of Madam Pince and he could have remained behind if he had tried.

She took a stab at it.

“… and you do their work for them. They don’t have to lift a finger for class if they don’t wish to.” She said quietly.

Snape said nothing, merely meeting her eyes with a dark look, waiting for her to act offended, outraged, or jump up and distance herself from him at the least.

“There is no way…” she continued quietly, and his hands tightened into fists on the table as he stared her down. “… that you’re keeping up with it.”

There was a long silence before he spoke. “Pardon?”

“You couldn’t possibly be doing the work for four other students as well as yourself,” she said matter-of-factly. “You have Quidditch practice, and you do the Slug Club meetings as well.” She wrinkled her nose in thought, trying to figure out the logic problem. “I mean, even if you don’t sleep, there aren’t enough hours in the day to get it all done.” She would know, she had used a time-turner for the precise purpose of finding time to do extra schoolwork before.

“It’s… I…” Even Severus Snape appeared flustered at her lack of a reaction. He swallowed slowly, but only took a brief moment more before recovering. “They rotate duties and assignments. I am only completing an extra assignment per day.”

“Each?” She clarified.

He gave a slight nod. “Each. It is hardly undoable.”

“Still, four extra assignments a day…” He must be barely keeping up, she thought. “How are you managing?”

Severus said nothing. She was about to get worried about him maybe stowing a Time-Turner away and putting an even larger age difference between the two of them when he spoke.

“I shall give up extra-curriculars if need be.” His lips were tightly drawn, and his teeth gritted. He must have just been losing sleep so far, then. Or failing to complete his own assignments.

Hermione figured that he probably did not want to give up Quidditch or even Slughorn’s gatherings since they helped ingratiate him with powerful figures. He would do it, however, if it meant keeping his personal protection squad.

Hermione cocked her head slightly, bit her lip, and narrowed her eyes in thought.

Severus looked back at her. He no longer appeared angry or guarded, but simply curious. Her reaction had been unexpected thus far.

“Well.” Hermione abruptly straightened, having finished her line of thinking. She stretched her palm out and up towards him and beckoned at him with her fingers. “Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?”

“The extra assignment. At least one of them, maybe we could each do two to make it even.”

Severus looked askance at her as if she were certifiable. “I think not.”

“Why?” She raised her eyebrows and grinned cheekily at him. “Do you enjoy staying up late and writing the same essay four- no, five different ways? Come on, Snape, give it here.”

“No.”

Hermione smirked playfully at him. “Don’t tell me you’re acting out of some…self-important, misguided attempt at honour or justice.”

He growled at her, which only sent a slight thrill through her, rather than dissuade her.

“I don’t understand why you won’t take my help,” She pressed on.

“I don’t understand why a goody Gryffindor would help us cheat.” His tone was acerbic, but his face held little malice.

“Because…” she sighed. “I’ve done work for friends before. Not here, but back home. And not even for such a good reason as you have, I was just tired of their whinging and wanted them to have free time to spend with me.”

Hermione felt herself drifting away in self-reflection as she spoke, revealing the truth to herself as much as to Severus. “I suppose I knew it was something I was good at that would make me useful to them… just… just to be sure…” She trailed off.

“Just to be sure they would keep you around.” Severus finished quietly.

“Yes,” she whispered, brows furrowed. She had just realized this was an issue as she said it.

Hermione had never felt completely accepted by Harry and Ron, always needing to earn her way into friendship, especially since they had thought she was ‘a nightmare’ in their first year. Ron had almost trained her in a Pavlovian manner, saying, “you’re the best, Hermione”, “you’re the most wonderful person”, and even “I love you” once after she agreed to do part of his work. She had been trained that she had to put in the effort to receive praise and affection.

“I understand completely,” he said in a low tone, leaning forward to her across the table. “Being useful… being needed… it is vital.”

Her eyes met his, and the spark they both knew was there flickered between them.

I need you, she thought traitorously.

Her heart caught in her chest as she found herself wishing, no, longing for a physical connection with him. She had kissed him before, held him before, tried to seduce him, and been seduced by him before…

But that was a different Severus, an older Severus. Perhaps a Severus that would only exist in some much-altered timeline. Hermione swallowed away the thought of putting her hands through his raven hair and snogging him.

Remember, he’s a Death Eater.

“Is that why you have the… politics you do?” Hermione asked him in a hushed tone. “To be needed?”

Severus stiffened visibly, shifting away from her. He leaned back toward his side of the table, his face a neutral blank.

Dragon shite, she thought. I’ve pushed him too far.

There would be no more revelations tonight. She would have to settle with the parchment he handed her next.

“History of Magic essay on the fourth goblin rebellion. Make sure it’s written at an A level.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. When he put his head down to go back to his writing, she smiled to herself.

Over the next few days, Hermione and Severus were unable to steal a free night in the library. Slytherin Quidditch practice was one night, as well as a Slug Club meeting another night. Then, a third night there was a torrential downpour, there was no Gryffindor or Ravenclaw Quidditch practice, and all the library girls were at their usual table.

Hermione had been unable to sit with Severus that night, but she had gone straight up to him in full view of the other girls. She explained as she sat back down that she had only wanted the Arithmancy homework assignment from him. They appeared to accept this explanation, sans Ellie who hid a smile behind her Charms book.

Truthfully, Hermione had gotten instructions from Severus, but not for Arithmancy. She would be spending that evening writing both her own and Avery’s Transfiguration essay on the difference between the animal and the human soul and their synergy in the Animagus form. Snape told her to shoot for an E grade, so she needn’t be too thorough.

Calliope pulled her aside as the girls exited the library, waiting until the others had walked on ahead. “I also had the Arithmancy assignment, did you forget?”

“Oh, umm.. that’s right Callie-”

“Does he fancy you back then?” Callie said, getting straight to the point. She was a bit awkward when it came to social things, Hermione thought.

“I… well… I don’t…” She grew frustrated with herself for stammering and blushing immediately.

“It could be useful, you know.” The dark-haired girl pushed her large glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to Lily. I think she is overlooking the fact that you could get information from him if you needed to.”

“What would I need to do that for?” Hermione asked, eyes narrowed.

“If it’s true about him being a Death Eater,” Callie said, matter-of-factly. “It’d be nice to know everything we could, wouldn’t it?”

She quickly turned and walked away, leaving Hermione biting her lip in thought.

That weekend was a Vendor Weekend, she had found out from signs posted in the common room.  

“What’s Vendor Weekend?” Hermione asked the girls at breakfast on Friday.

“Hogsmeade is the local Wizarding village,” Lily said. “Vendor Weekend is to replace Hogsmeade Weekend, when we could all take a trip there for the day. We used to have them, but we don’t anymore.”

“We can’t go to Hogsmeade anymore since the attacks have gotten more frequent. We haven’t had a Hogsmeade weekend since fifth year,” Marina chimed in. “I mean, I get that You-Know-Who could try to attack Hogwarts students, but he’d be kind of stupid to do so and risk hurting any Slytherins.”

“As if it’s only Slytherins that like him, sis.” Marlene said, noticing what they were talking about. “One of those new transfers was telling me all about how You-Know-Who is revolutionizing the Wizarding World and it’s only slander that he’s behind the Muggle attacks. According to Ivan Dumitru, You-Know-Who only stages political protests that end up turning violent when the MLE and aurors arrive. He seems to think that the Death Eaters are part of a rebellious movement to take back magic from the influence and control of Muggles.”

“That’s absurd!” Lily said, mouth agape. “What, so we’re to believe Mr. Megalomaniac himself is only interested in social change or something? Leave it to Soviets to be so blasé about the rise of a dictatorship.”

Hermione grinned at her. She and Lily really did see eye to eye about some of these things.

“Anyway, Vendor Weekend?”

“Oh, you’ll love it, Anna,” Arabella said from her left. “The Hogsmeade shops send someone with a cart or a booth to set up in the courtyard. It’s not quite as good as going to Hogsmeade, but Madam Rosmerta sends a few barrels of butterbeer and the first mug is usually free.”

“I look forward to it,” Hermione said, beaming.

True to the other girls’ word, Vendor’s Weekend was delightful, if not quite as good as a Hogsmeade Weekend.

On Saturday, there were booths and carts for every shop in Hogsmeade that Hermione could remember, all lining the outer edges of the courtyard so the students could visit each shop’s wares in a circular loop. There was a cart for Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop that Callie bought some Communication Quills from, a Honeydukes cart at which Marina (“No, no, remember call me Mari now!”) spent all her money, a Zonko’s booth that Sirius and James were crowded around for a long while, and even a small cart for Tomes and Scrolls, at which one could order books to be owled to the school.

Madam Rosmerta had indeed provided a few barrels of butterbeer, and the first mug was free as long as the student could answer a question appropriate to year level. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick oversaw the questioning, which they appeared to enjoy more than necessary. This led to some groans and fishing into robe pockets to pull out coins, but the students were good sports and they cheered each other on to get the free mugs.

Hermione wondered why they hadn’t merely instituted one of these again in her sixth year, since all Hogsmeade Weekends had been canceled after Katie Bell’s possession. There was even a Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop Cart, but all the pots and fragrant tea scents hadn’t truly been the appeal of the place as much as the… romantic atmosphere. Hermione’s eyes couldn’t help but seek out Snape in the crowd, making his way over to the Scrivenshaft’s cart after perusing the J. Pippin’s Potions booth. She would have tea with him someday, she vowed, but not necessarily at Madam Puddifoot’s. The thought of Severus Snape in that place made her giggle hysterically.

After a long week of classes, she was glad to have a break from the extra work, as Snape would be able to play catch up over the weekend on his extra assignments. Hermione had spent the last few days sending and receiving assignments back and forth, but that Saturday night she found herself alone with Severus again. Perhaps Elpida had also figured out Snape’s schedule, for she had made herself scarce after dinner unprompted.

“Perri.” He greeted her with a nod as he sat down across from her at the library table.

“Snape.” She said cordially, trying to hold back a beaming smile and failing. She felt her face redden and blush, so she ducked her head down momentarily to compose herself.

When she looked up, she found he was staring at her appraisingly. His books were out on the table, but unopened.

“You… you wanted…” he began, looking hesitant. “If you are amenable to discussing politics now, I have some time.”

She had proved her loyalty by helping with the assignments, apparently. She doubted he would have discussed this with her if he doubted her ability to keep it quiet.

Hermione’s smile fell slowly, her features straightening into a serious look. “Alright,” she said, closing her own book.

They sat in silence for a moment, unsure who should start.

“I- sorry. Should- should I go first? Okay umm, I suppose… I suppose I’ll just come out and say it. Are you a Death Eater?” Hermione asked the question the same way you might ask any question that you expected to receive a disappointing answer to. Is she very ill? Is there no other time it could be rescheduled? Are you actually a member of a sadistic magical death cult?

“No,” He said levelly. Hermione gazed into his dark eyes, and she believed he wouldn’t lie to her.

“But… but your friends- I mean, I mean the other Slytherins… they are? Are they Death Eaters?”

“I do not know,” Severus said again, in a bored tone.

“If you had to hazard a guess?” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“If I were to guess… No. I do not believe they are.”

Hermione frowned at him and crossed her hands over her chest. “Yet. Is that the word I’m missing? Yet? None of you are Death Eaters yet?”

Severus said nothing, but he made his familiar grimace with a much more noticeable uptick on the side of his mouth.

I’ll take that as a yes, she thought grimly.

“Okay… why?”

“Why?” He said, surprised again at her lack of reaction, or that she was even waiting for an explanation.

“Yes, why? I grew up in the Muggle world, you know, my Dad’s a Muggle. I don’t understand the prejudice toward Muggles and Muggle-borns.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, determined to keep the conversation neutral in tone.

My Mum’s a muggle too, but I can’t tell him that, Hermione thought. 

“I am a Half-blood as well,” he told her somberly. “I cannot know your situation, but my upbringing has certainly helped me to see the… inherent differences in Wizarding and Muggle ideology.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Muggles try to change Wizards and Witches. They always have and they always will, it is a statement of fact. Muggle-borns naturally bring some of that perspective when they arrive, as they have spent the first decade of life unaware of magic.”

“What, so you’re saying that Muggle-borns don’t deserve to be here? Or is it worse? They deserve to die?” Hermione said, growing heated despite her determination to stay unaffected.

“No!” He growled a little loudly. He heard some hushes around him and lowered his voice and leaned forward. “No, that isn’t what I’m saying. Are you willing to listen or aren’t you?”

Hermione shut her mouth quickly and gestured for him to continue.

“Muggle-borns simply bring a spirit of change along with them. They are always thinking in terms of comparison between the Wizarding World and the Muggle. It is not that they don’t belong or don’t deserve to be here- they have magic, after all. No, it is simply that… more work needs to be done on integrating them. Too often there is the thought that in order to accept and welcome the Muggle-borns, long-held Wizarding traditions need to be disregarded or forgotten.”

Hermione bit her lip and remembered what the older Severus had told her about theomagical religious traditions. It was a subject completely ignored in her own education, and perhaps would be forgotten in future generations if it continued to be ignored.

Severus continued in a low tone. “I am of the belief that Muggle-borns should be told of their magic earlier and should be helped along into the Wizarding World at a much younger age. It is not the fault of Muggle-borns that they desire to change the ancient ways of magic, but of the Muggle family members who would hold them back because of fear, hatred, or jealousy.” Severus clenched his jaw, clearly thinking of something in particular.

“I was raised in the Muggle world,” Hermione said quietly. She met his dark eyes fiercely with her own brown ones. “Do you think I have this desire to change the Wizarding World into a more Muggle one?” It was impossible to keep a bit of hurt and accusation out of her question.

Severus stared back at her, not relenting either. “I shall speak of myself first to give an example. My father was a Muggle, my mother a Witch. I, if anyone, know the struggles and the difficulties of growing up a stranger to each world.”

Severus’ eyes shone, boring into her own as he continued. “My mother taught me some spells when I was younger, but she hardly ever used her wand herself. She began to forget magic, forget who she was.”

His voice took on a strained quality, but he strove on. “She- she allowed the Muggle world to change her, to break her… and…and My father… He…” Severus paused then.

His eyes took on a pang of sadness as they continued to meet Hermione’s eyes. She finally realized that his departure from a flirtatious manner with her was not because he trusted her less now, but because he had come to trust her more.

Slowly, she reached her hand across the table and placed it atop of his.

“I’m listening,” she whispered.

“They’re dead.” He said flatly. “She’s dead.”

Hermione grasped his hand tightly, as her mouth fell open in surprise, forming a small ‘o’. He had jerked as if to pull his hand away, but she was still grasping it.

Severus swung his hair forward to hide his face from her. He didn’t seem to know whether to take comfort from her or to refuse it on principle.

“She died this year,” he mumbled through his hair. “I found her when I went home for Easter holidays.” Hermione had started rubbing her thumb gently against his hand in a soothing motion. If they hadn’t been in the library, she would have come around to hold him.

Scratch that, if he hadn’t seemed so reluctant to receive her touch, she would have done it anyway.

“I’m listening,” she whispered again.

He took this as permission to keep going and she heard a few sniffs from behind the black curtain of hair. “I don’t know how long she’d been there, at least a few days.”

Hermione’s heart ached as she squeezed his hand. What a horrible thing to see.

“I went to find my father first and… and I…”

“Did… did he…?” Hermione’s eyes widened, not sure she could ask Severus that question politely. Was it murder?

“I don’t know! He very well could have!” She heard a few more sniffs and saw Severus straighten and brush his free hand over his face, still hiding behind his hair. “It took me a few days to find him. Of course, the lucky bastard was in hospital with liver failure when I did. He died a few days later, saving me the trouble.”

“The trouble?”

He shook his hair, revealing his face to her. “The trouble of striking him down myself.” His face held a fierce expression, as if he were steeling himself before battle. Severus’ low, dark tone brokered no argument, and Hermione almost shuddered.

This was the Death Eater Severus Snape who would not be crossed.

Severus glared at her and shook off her hand, the emotional turmoil having passed.

“Muggles want to change Wizards, control us, restrict our magic, break us down until we are normal just like they are. We are freaks of nature to them, and they hate us for it, just as my father hated my mother and me.” He said bitterly. “Yet still, she capitulated and tried to change, just as we Wizards try to adapt ourselves to be more Muggle and Muggle-born friendly. We must defend ourselves and our culture, not capitulate to the waves of change.”

Hermione was at a loss, not knowing how to argue this. There was no argument to his experience. She could not fault his reaction to what he had been dealt, could she?

“And… and what of Muggle-borns and Muggles?” She whispered.

“What of them? Those… those Muggle-borns who are willing to adapt and accept Wizarding life as it is… they are and should be welcome. Others… it may sound harsh, but they should be barred from entry.”

“How? You would refuse magic, a magical life, to those who don’t follow a certain- a certain way of acting? Certain beliefs about the world?”

“Not to sound overly reactionary, Perri, but there’s more to it than just live and let live.” He scowled. “The Minister of Magic apparently reports to the Muggle Prime Minister and keeps him apprised of Wizarding events! Why should we have Muggle involvement? Pureblood Wizarding customs are being looked down on as outdated and old-fashioned- to be erased! When these families have had magic in their veins for centuries!” He was growing heated, and he took a breath to keep himself quiet.

“Plus,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning in again, “it is not I who is suggesting to refuse anyone or control anything. The Ministry talks every few years about initiating a Marriage Law that would bind Purebloods to Muggle-borns just to… just to diversify the population! Enslave witches into marriage simply to give us all a better chance against the Muggles in the future! I have seen how powerful a marriage can be to suck the very life and magic out of a person, and- and no. This suggestion is barbaric. It is being floated merely to capitulate to the Muggle-borns’ cries of inequality; of not having a magical bloodline with deep-seated community ties. Rather, they will break the Wizarding World into pieces just so they can fit in more comfortably.”

“That’s not fair!” Hermione hissed at him. “It’s not fair to say that all Muggle-borns think that way, that they all want to change our society and make it more… Muggle. Are equality and justice only Muggle qualities? No! They are human qualities. It sounds like you want to make changes yourself, at any rate, so it can’t be that all change is bad or done out of some hatred or fear of magic.”

Severus’ eyes darkened and he appeared pleased at her pushback. She realized that he must be accustomed to people treating him as either inferior or to be feared, but by arguing with him she proved she thought he was neither.

“You were raised in the Muggle world yourself, so you must understand my point to some extent.” He drawled. “Let me ask you this: would you ever marry a Muggle?”

Hermione frowned, a bit taken aback at the question. She flushed a little bit as she realized she couldn’t tell him her honest answer. The man I love… he is not a muggle.

“I… I don’t think I would,” she admitted, never having thought about it before. “Simply because I can’t see that we would have enough in common. Magic is such a big part of my life… It’s such a large part of me. I wouldn’t fault anyone else who chose to marry a Muggle, but… I just can’t see myself doing so.”

Severus nodded, eyes still dark. Hermione flushed a little deeper as she remembered their earlier flirting over marriage.

“That is the thing,” he said. “You make a choice when you marry to bind yourself to who and what the other person is. To marry a Muggle is to bind yourself to the Muggle world, as the Muggle can never come the other way; they can never become magical. Even a Squib is not the same as a Muggle, for they at least understand our way of life, our way of thinking. There is a choice that must be made between the Muggle and the Magical. There is always a choice, and it must be magic that we choose.”

“I agree with you there,” she said. “There is always a choice. Will you choose the Death Eaters, Snape?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting her to go that far in her inquiry.

“I… have made no promises.” Based on her guess, this was as close to a lie as he would go. Perhaps not outright, she thought. But I bet there are expectations.

“Well. I promise you if you do choose them, you’ll regret it.” She glared.

“Why is that?” He glared back at her but still kept the dark and fiery look in his eyes.

“Because they’re sadistic, dark-arts-loving scumbags, that’s why.” She said matter-of-factly, raising a brow at him.

Severus smirked lightly at her, an expression that felt animalistic. “Must all those who appreciate the dark arts be sadistic scumbags?”

“I wouldn’t know. They are called dark arts for a reason.”

“Darkness does not mean evil. It may be used for such purposes and...” He sneered. “…that explains the differences between myself and some of the others you may see me with. I have no ill intent apart from knowledge of the darkness, the mystery, the call of the unknown. Must that be sadistic?”

Severus continued to smirk, noticing that her flush had returned.

Hermione hated that Severus seemed almost to read her mind.

Severus was darkness, mystery, the call of the unknown.

Severus was her dark arts.

Quickly, she inhaled and checked her Occlumency levels, noting that they were appropriately shielding the most secretive information. Unfortunately, Anna Perri’s attraction to Severus Snape was… easily accessible knowledge. Who knows if he had mastered Legilimency yet.

“Here,” Snape stood up from the table. “Let me show you something.”

Hermione stood and followed him to a section in the stacks labeled ‘Potions’. He knelt down on the ground, looking for a book on the bottom shelf.

“Ah,” he said, having found it. He pulled it out and handed it to her.

Moste Potente Potions by Phineas Bourne.

Well, that’s ironic, she thought. In my time, this was in the restricted section.

Hermione looked up at him, waiting for his explanation.

“That has advanced potions that are necessary to know for a Mastery,” he said quietly. “Many can be used for unsavory purposes. Polyjuice potion, certain slow-acting venoms, and their antidotes… Go on, open it up. Take a look.”

Hermione’s heart was pounding as she flipped through the familiar book. Yes, she had ignored the more gruesome potions and their ingredients before when she had made use of it for the page on Polyjuice Potion. Some of these had brewing processes that were quite… unsavory was a good word.

She flipped through more pages and her heart stopped.

“Sanguine Virginis,” she said.

“Yes, that’s a good example of a potion made through the dark arts. How much darker can you get than using Virgin’s Blood?” He smirked at her. “But you see, it can be used in the antidote to powerful slow-acting venoms, even venoms from dragons and deadly serpents. So, do the healing properties outweigh the price of… extracting the ingredient? Who is to say? The darkness of the art is all about intent. We are all grey wizards, more than we think.”

Hermione nodded numbly, not sure how to think or feel about this all. She hadn’t had the odd sensation in which she felt that this conversation had been meant to happen, as if it had already happened before. But it had to be, right? It was too much a coincidence otherwise. It was almost as if it was easier to believe in this strange element of fate than not to.

She knelt and returned the book to the bottom shelf. As she straightened, she felt that Severus was a step closer to her than he had been before.

“Perri… I…” He swallowed, and she noticed his hands were twitching at his sides. After all they had just talked about, it was a wonder he looked nervous about anything. “Are you… Have you…”

Hermione bit her lip, not knowing what he would say. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood to flirt right now. It had been a lot to take in.

“What is that?” Severus’ eyes narrowed and he pointed at her shirt.

She looked down. Dragon shite.

The sapphire pendant hung down above her clothes, having come out when Hermione had bent down and risen again to put the book away.

“It’s… it’s from my mum,” she said quietly. Severus raised his eyebrows at her and gestured to the necklace. She nodded, and he reached out and gingerly touched it, pulling it upward and examining it. This small motion sent her heart racing even faster.

“There’s an H on it,” he said in a low tone. It was funny how fast the mood could shift, for Hermione felt differently about flirting already.

“It’s for my mum… and for me,” she said quietly. “My mum’s name is Helen.”

“Interesting,” he murmured. “My mother’s was as well.”

“Helen?” she whispered.

“Well, a variation of Helen.” He said, still fingering the pendant around her neck. They were as close as they could be without touching.

“And for you?” He said quietly. “I thought your name was Anna.”

She couldn’t lie to him about this. Not about her name. At least, she couldn’t bear for him to call her Anna when he could be calling her…

“Hermione,” she whispered, knowing this was a mistake, a very very foolish mistake, but saying it anyway. “Anna Hermione Perri. Actually, I only started going by Anna here. Before now, I’ve always been Hermione.”

“A mask,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He said simply, still fingering the dark sapphire. “I am a Slytherin in favour, on the Quidditch team, financed by Lucius Malfoy, close friends with Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, and now Wilkes.” Severus gave a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, coming out as a sad half-smile. “Not buying my way into friendship and protection, not an orphan ward of the school until the Muggle authorities are satisfied that I’ve turned 18.”

Slowly, he returned the pendant to rest above her shirt.

“May I… May I call you Hermione?” He said quietly, meeting her eyes.

“Only… only when we’re- when no one else can hear,” she whispered back at him, caught in the swirling dark water of his irises. “I’ve told everyone else to call me Anna.”

“Of course.” He smiled at her, but the smile seemed a bit fragile. “And you may call me Severus when none can hear. If that is too much of a mouthful, then…” His smile crumbled hesitantly. “…Severo… Vero…” He mumbled the last bit and pushed against the shelf to pull away from her. Before he turned away completely, she grabbed his hand.

“Ma certo,” She whispered. “Vero.”

He squeezed her hand once and released it before stalking away.

Hermione rested herself against the stacks for a moment and tried to make a mental list of all the reasons this was beyond stupid.

I don’t care, she thought. I honestly don’t care.

Chapter Text

Further into the month of October, the chilly fall weather settled on the school, and Hermione and Severus continued to dance around each other. Nothing overtly promised, no talk about what this between them was, more assignments passed back and forth, more mumbled conversations in the library when the other girls had forgotten about their new friend for an afternoon or evening. Thus far, the library worked for avoiding detection.

Hermione learned more about Severus each day and shared her own stories, as much as she could, simply disguising stories of friends “from before” or “back home” as having been in Italy twenty years previous. Thankfully, her alias’ backstory had her being born and raised in England before moving to Genoa when magical schooling began, so she could be open with Severus about her early years raised in the Muggle world.

With every smirk and glinting gaze Severus would send her way, Hermione found herself falling further into an unintelligible haze of infatuation. When did Hermione Granger ever do anything without thinking it through completely? Taking up a romance with a 20-years-younger Severus Snape and trying to alter the past was just as bad, if not worse, than an affair with a professor…

But perhaps she had made the first move after all, and it was many years sooner than she had originally thought? As soon as that intriguing train of thought began, Hermione pushed it away, because it opened up too many uncomfortable questions about her own behaviour in multiple timelines.

Hermione thoroughly enjoyed their secretive, stolen hours in the library. They had seemed to reach an understanding between them. They had no issues between them yet, since Hermione had decided to leave the potential Death Eater business alone. If the past was inalterable, it was meant to happen, and it was beneficial to the Order of the Phoenix in the long run to have a spy in Voldemort’s camp. If the past could indeed be changed, she would probably not be the one to do it. Severus had loved Lily Evans for 20 years, after all, and it would probably be something to do with Lily Evans that caused any early remorse. This must be a brief flirtation, just as she had had with Viktor and Ron.

She treated him as a friend in an abusive relationship that was sure to fizzle, crackle, explode, and end somewhat badly. She made her disapproval quite clear but prepared herself to help him through the aftermath of the breakup.

Hermione reminded herself more than once with gritted teeth that Severus had lost both parents less than a year ago, was constantly afraid for his life and without a friend, and was being offered power and glory on a silver platter. Then she would think of the honourable man that she had left behind in 1997 who regretted his past mistakes. This would calm her down, and she would feel her heart hurting for that man rather than his younger self.

However, Hermione Granger was still a know-it-all, and she found no end of opportunities to point out Severus’ lack of foresight or knowledge about the true nature of Voldemort and his minions. At first, Hermione’s casual comments would visibly rankle him, and he would stiffen and coldly stare at her in anticipation of some further reaction.

After repeated glares and eyerolls accompanied by matter-of-fact statements about “what an idiot” he was and how he would “come to regret it”, Severus’ attitude became a mixture of bemused, curious, and teasing. This would be when his eyes would shine and he would whisper things about the “seductive beauty of the…” (he would pause and lazily rake his eyes up and down her form) … “dark arts”, he would finish in a low tone with a raised brow. Then Severus would smirk ferally as Hermione blushed, and the subject was hastily changed.

The current Severus Snape’s political views were tolerated enough to enjoy his company; however, Hermione was getting increasingly tired of doing the extra work for the lazy, wannabe Death Eaters, and she was also no longer seeing the point of it. Severus was largely accounted for, not finding himself alone in the corridors between classes or mealtimes. Was he worried about being assaulted after Quidditch practice? On the way to Slug Club? Perhaps he could call off one or two of the dogs to lighten their load of assignments?

He shook his head sharply when she mentioned it to him a few nights before Halloween. “No, there’s also mornings.”

“Mornings?” She asked. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, looking up from whatever work he was doing that was splayed across the table. “How early do you rise?”

“Oh, as… as early as anyone else, I suppose.” Hermione woke up rather early to spend at least half an hour meditating and checking her Occlumency shields. Then she would open her leather-bound notebook and write down anything new that came to her unexpectedly in the morning.

“If you are awake early, I will be on the seventh-floor corridor at 6 am,” Severus said, turning back to his work and hiding behind his dark hair.

The next morning, Hermione woke at 5:30 and spent her regular time meditating before dressing in a hurry and making her way out into the corridor.

Sure enough, she saw Snape coming up the staircase, accompanied by a bleary-eyed Paul Wilkes.

“I don’t get,” Wilkes yawned, “why you’re always coming up here so early. If you’re shagging a Gryffindor, it can be done at night, you know.”

“It isn’t for you to get, Wilkes,” Severus said in a bored tone. “Tell Mulciber-” Severus paused as he caught sight of Hermione and the corner of his mouth ticked upward. “Tell Mulciber to go back to bed, he needn’t escort me back.”

Wilkes frowned. “You’re sure? He’ll still want his homework…” The full-faced Slytherin trailed off as he also caught sight of Hermione. “Ah okay. Didn’t know you actually had a consort already, Snape.” Wilkes clapped him once on the back and headed back down the stairway, nearly tripping in his hurry to get back to bed.

Severus walked over to greet Hermione and she only then noticed his outfit. He was in a black T-shirt and track pants, and he wore black trainers on his feet. He was carrying a small gym bag, also black.

She looked at him questioningly.

“Come,” he said. He led her down the corridor and-

What? There’s no way he knows about this! He’s known about this room the entire time? Wait, wait, hold on, that means he knew exactly where Dumbledore’s Army was meeting, and he kept that information to himself? Hell, if Severus Snape isn’t popping surprise after surprise out of his hat-

“This is what I’ve been coming here for,” he said quietly, shuffling Hermione into the Room of Requirement.

“Oh, I see.” She said before bursting out with a delighted laugh. “You’ve made yourself a gym.”

Sure enough, the room was filled with several workout machines, as well as a few open areas with practice dummies that Hermione recognized as having used herself for D.A. practice. She noted a treadmill, a bike, an elliptical, some weight machines and a few kickboxing and punching bags, the practice dummies (who were holding wands), and even a few brooms in the far corner of the room. Undoubtedly, some hoops and a set of Quidditch balls could also be magicked into existence if desired.

She looked up at Severus, who appeared pleased at her reaction. “I discovered this room over a year ago, but I haven’t had much chance to use it until recently. I was keeping watch in front of Gryffindor tower one night and I needed a place to sleep. That time, the room had a bed, an attached bathroom, and a large one-way glass that saw through to the corridor so I could exit quickly.”

Hermione looked around the room approvingly. “So, you’ve been coming up here to work out in the mornings?”

“Yes, and I’ve needed the escort due to the proximity to the tower. I wouldn’t want to be caught unawares and alone,” he sneered, clearly a bit embarrassed that he could be beaten in a four-on-one fight by the Marauders.

Ah, of course. “How…” She frowned in thought. “How did you say you found it again?”

He hesitated but ultimately answered. “I was… waiting for a friend.”

After a moment’s pause, he snarled and ran his fingers over his scalp and through his hair. “Hermione, I should tell you-”

“It’s alright, Severus,” Hermione said quietly. “Lily already told me you two used to be friends.”

His eyes darted quickly to hers.

“What exactly did she say?” He asked, sounding desperate for news.

Hermione’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest, but she forced herself to keep a casual manner. “Same as I’ve told you, really.” She shrugged. “That you used to be friends, but you were friends with the wrong crowd now, and she’s sure you’re a Death Eater- which I also disapprove of.” Hermione sent him her usual glare before moving on. “She also said you… that you called her a Mudblood in front of people-”

“That was a mistake,” he hissed. “I was wandless, defenseless, and humiliated in front of Potter and Black, and… and yes, I lost my temper with her. It was salt in the wound to have her defend me in front of a crowd when- when she regularly turned a blind eye in a more private setting. Yet still I…” Severus looked away, appearing angry and ashamed. “I spent all night waiting for her and begging her to come out so I could apologise- I only gave up to sleep in this room around five…”

Hermione thought she hadn’t gotten the full story from Lily, but it was good to see that there was more. Yes, she also would have been furious at being called a Mudblood by a friend, but… all she really demanded was an apology from Ron. After some time apart, perhaps an apology would have been enough. Heck, Ron was never a Slytherin afraid for his life. Could she have expected Draco Malfoy to sleep outside the portrait hole and beg forgiveness for calling her Mudblood?

“Severus,” she said quietly. “I’m not-”

“What?” He sneered, fists clenched, continuing to look away. “Go then! You know the truth now! Back to Gryffindor, where you can all be up on your high-flying thestrals about who to associate with.”

“What?” Hermione said, taken aback. “What are you talking about, I’m just saying that I’m not-”

“Yes, I know,” Severus continued in a biting tone. “She’ll never find out and you’ll be in the clear for deigning to look at me. No one will know-”

“Will you shut up for just one minute! Let me talk!” Hermione’s curls frizzed out in her anger as she grabbed his hand and forced him to meet her eyes. “I’m not going back to Lily to speak on your behalf- or against you for that matter- because I have no interest in getting involved! Whatever happened between you, happened before I got here, and I’m not weighing in. That’s all I was going to say!”

Severus looked back at her from behind his fallen-forward hair. It was a hesitant look, but full of longing. They stood there in the empty, brightly lit gym looking at each other, hands still clasped. Her heart was beating rapidly still from her outburst. She felt on the verge of forgetting to breathe as she looked up into his dark eyes.

“Hermione…” He whispered.

She slowly turned to ice at his tone. He was going to ask her to intervene with Lily, wasn’t he?

Her body was drawn into him, but simultaneously emitting a gut-wrenching throbbing of dread.

He only did want me to ingratiate him to Lily, didn’t he? To win her back.

Of course, he did, she’s beautiful. What are you to him? Lily Evans has been his Patronus for 20 years.

You are a pathetic fool, Hermione. Some lovesick girl who can’t help but try to change the past.

“I- I’ve kept you from your workout.” She said in a rush before her throat closed. “I’ll just be going.”

“No! No- wait.” Severus clasped her hand tightly, keeping her from removing it and leaving. As she looked up at him hesitantly, he closed his eyes, furrowing his brows as if in pain. “I… may I...” He took a deep breath and opened his eyes wide, meeting hers forcefully. “May I walk you down to breakfast when I’m finished?”

Hermione bit her lip and looked away. “That’s right, you told Mulciber not to come.”

“Fuck, Perri, that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, leaning his head back. “You don’t have to say yes. I can risk walking by myself if you say no.”

Hermione hesitated. It was quite likely someone would see them walking together and then all of Gryffindor would be talking about it. It would be certain to get back to Lily, who would not be pleased. Is that what Severus wants? To get back at Lily? She quickly shook the thought away.

Hermione didn’t actually care about what Lily or the others thought of her, but she didn’t like the thought that she was abandoning her mission to the past in order to… what? Spend more time with Severus Snape? Flirt with him and imagine kissing him when he was still contemplating Death Eater membership? This would surely compromise the mission, wouldn’t it? Was it possible to protect Lily Evans if Lily was angry with her?

She looked back at Severus. He had not yet released her hand and she found she didn’t want him to. It was becoming agony to hold hands with him instead of press herself against him.

“We cannot ignore how people view us,” he said quietly.

Hermione recognized the look of barely concealed pain and anger on his face. She had last seen it after Slughorn’s Christmas party when Professor Snape had brought her to an empty classroom.

“Who put you up to this?” He had hissed angrily at her as she was pressed back into the stone wall.

“Do not play me for a fool!” Severus had snarled at her… “Whose idea was this?”

He doubted her.

He thought this thing between them was a trap, a joke, some deception on her part. That, or he believed she was ashamed to be seen with him. It was this last idea that broke her resolve.

She squeezed his hand back, rubbing it gently with her thumb. He inhaled deeply, but otherwise appeared unmoved. “Si, Vero,” Hermione said to him. “I will walk with you.” She smiled up at him, heart in her eyes.

Severus’ face kept the same look, still unaffected by her answer.

“And if Evans finds out?” He said, between gritted teeth.

Hermione blushed and her smile turned a bit sly. “Oh, I thought we were intending James Potter and his friends to find out. You’ve never made good on your promise to scare them off for me.”

Severus slowly relaxed at hearing this. He didn’t smile, but as her grin slowly grew, she saw a slight uptick before he schooled his mouth to a neutral line.

“I should be done in an hour,” he said quietly, giving her a sharp nod. He didn’t appear to know what to do with her hand. He looked down at it and seemed loathe to release it.

Finally, he squeezed her hand once more and gently brought it back to her side, frustrating her to no end as her body tingled and she wished he had done almost anything else. It was sweet how much shyer he had gotten now that they knew each other better, as if he were too serious with her to flirt as much, but she wished… She wished for unwise things.

Severus turned and made his way over to the treadmill, fiddling with the settings as she stared at his back.

Hermione would have enjoyed staying to watch him work out. She bit her lip as she deliberately forced her mind not to watch his lithe, muscular frame, flexing arms, or his firm behind as he started to jog.

Hermione turned around and quietly exited the room, wondering how she could have been so daring as to show Professor Snape an erotic fantasy, but she couldn’t even kiss this Severus on the cheek.

She met him in an hour to find that he was freshly showered and dressed in uniform. His gym bag was now transfigured back into his regular school bag which was slung across his broad shoulder. Hermione forced herself not to think of Severus showering after a workout, smiled at him brightly, and began walking down to breakfast alongside him.

They met no Gryffindors as they walked, but a few floors down they were passed by a group of ten or so Ravenclaws, almost all firsties. Elpida and Calliope were walking together behind the young students and they both met Hermione with raised eyebrows. Ellie seemed pleasantly surprised, but Callie looked a little too interested. Probably wants me to get information from him, Hermione thought bitterly.

As she and Severus waited for the group to pass, a straggler down the corridor to their right spotted them.

“You! Snape!”

Quick as lightning, Severus shoved Hermione behind him and placed a heavy shield charm over them. His instincts were on point, because a second later a bang sounded, and a red flash hit the shield.

Hermione felt waves of magic as Severus threw spells back at the attacker. She couldn’t hear what was being said over the whizzes and hums of magical power, as well as the screaming and running of the Ravenclaws.

After a few hits back and forth, Severus shifted and Hermione could slip past him slightly, out of the shield charm but still blocked from the attacker by his form. She turned to her left to look for the other Ravenclaws.

“Callie! Ellie!” She cried.

“She took the others to safety!” Elpida yelled back, dashing into view. “What’s going on?”

Her answer was questioned by the sound of exploding fireworks. They both turned their heads to see the hall explode in multiple rainbow-colored flashes. Blue and yellow and red smoke and pulses of light obscured the duelers.

“What are you waiting for Annie?” Ellie yelled. “Do something!”

“I don’t want to hit Snape on accident!” Hermione shouted back.

“I’ll petrify both of them!” Ellie hollered, the fiery Quidditch beater in her coming out.

Hermione already had her wand out and raised it to vanish the fireworks, determined not to petrify Severus from behind.

“Expelliarmus!”

Hermione’s wand flew out of her hand, and she saw Elpida’s wand slip through her fingers as well. Angry and shocked, Hermione turned to see the wands soar and fly into the waiting hand of Calliope, who had arrived back from getting the first years out of the way.

“Shit! Sorry!” She yelled. “I missed- I was going for them!”

Elpida scrambled over and shuffled Hermione out of the way just before a dragon-shaped ball of fire engulfed her.

Now without wands, Hermione and Elpida crouched together on a section of the wall, covering their heads with their arms. They heard Callie screaming something and running forward into the fray.

After a minute or two of pops and bangs, the bright dust settled, and Hermione and Ellie ceased shielding their bodies. Hermione’s heart was beating rapidly in her chest and there was a slight ringing in her ears.

“You alright? Uninjured?”

Hermione looked up to see Severus standing above her, breathing heavily and looking murderous.

Hermione nodded and accepted his hand to help her to her feet. He released her hand and turned to help Ellie to her feet as Hermione brushed off her robes.

Hermione peered across the hallway to see who had made it out worse.

Her eyes widened.

Popov.

The dark-blonde hair of Alexander Popov appeared a few feet up the wall that he was slumped against. He was holding his hand against the side of his head, which had a slow trickle of blood coming from it, and his right leg was jutting out at an awkward angle. Calliope stood over him, wand pointed at his head, her eyes directed across the hall to the girls and Snape. Hermione thought she looked just as murderous as Severus did.

Having checked the girls were okay, Severus turned and stalked angrily over to Popov. Hermione couldn’t help the thrill that ran through her at seeing the powerful stance and walk that was so familiar to her. It was terrible that she thought he was delicious when he was furious, wasn’t it?

Callie continued holding her wand to Popov’s face as Snape towered over him. Hermione walked a little faster to the end of the hall to see what he was saying.

“…are fortunate it wasn’t worse.” Severus hissed. “There is always the Gulag-”

“You bastard!” Popov spat at him, glaring up at him icily. He noted Hermione and Elpida’s approach and yelled at them. “Anya! You must help me! You would not let the Death Eaters roam free at Hogwarts like they are at Durmstrang?”

Hermione stood on Severus’ right as Ellie stood on his left between him and Callie. “You attacked first, Alexander,” Hermione said quietly.

“No!” He yelled, trying to reason with her. “No, I merely get retaliation! This Death Eater sent his dogs to Moscow after my father. I have a letter from my mother that says he has been arrested and is under questioning for last three days!”

“What are you saying, Popov?” Ellie half-growled. “Are you saying that You-Know-Who has taken over the Soviet Ministry? How else would the Death Eaters be involved in that?”

“CHYORT!” He cursed. “It is worse, he has been arrested by Muggle authorities as an enemy of state! He is being tortured! We are purebloods who are unknown to Muggles! Someone has lied and given his name!” Popov’s face contorted further in rage.

“Why would you suspect Severus specifically?” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed. “There are surely other Slytherins capable-”

“He is Half-blood!” Popov said angrily. “He knows about Muggle world! I find out everything I can about Snape, and this is confirmed! What other Death Eaters are Half-bloods?”

“You’re an imbecile, Popov,” Callie said coldly, shifting the wand between the fingers of her left hand. “They offer Muggle Studies here at Hogwarts, unlike at Durmstrang. It doesn’t take a Half-blood to learn basic facts about Muggles.”

“It was Snape, I know it!” He cried furiously, head turning to the girls around him and refusing to meet the eyes of the one he named. “It must have been him because- be- because…”

Hermione looked over at Severus to see him gloating. He was wearing quite a satisfied smirk, and something felt off to her.

She swiveled her head back to Popov. “You have a reason to suspect him taking his own revenge, don’t you? It was you by the Lake! You were the one who attacked him and left him for dead!” Popov’s face drooped slightly, and Hermione knew she had him.

“Give me my wand, Callie,” she said darkly, turning to the dark-haired girl.

Callie hesitated, but slowly lifted her right hand to reveal Ellie’s, Hermione’s, and Popov’s wands. She lifted her hand so her palm was facing up and unclenched her hand so that Ellie and Hermione could pluck their wands up.

Hermione reached her arm over to grab her wand just as Popov used his good leg to jump to his feet, shoving Callie away with his right hand while grabbing his wand with his left. At Popov’s sudden movement, Hermione instinctively pushed backwards, blocking Severus and Ellie.

“Crucio!”

Hermione’s entire body convulsed violently, as she received the brunt of the spell clearly meant for Severus. She fell to the floor, dropping her wand as she did so.

Her entire body was screaming, each nerve end pulsing with pain. It felt as though she had a Charley Horse in each limb, and someone was stabbing her in the lower back and abdomen at the same time. The ringing in her ears rose to a roar of white noise as she spasmed, vaguely catching some yelling around her.

She felt the wave of Crucio slowly abate from her body, but her limbs still ached, and she could only catch a few words around her. The ringing in her ears was still pulsing, and she felt something wet on her face. It could be tears, or it could be blood, she thought sleepily.

She felt herself being lifted into the air and rushed away. She turned back to see Severus speaking to Calliope. He had a look on his face, that look. They were far too close together and Hermione would have been exceedingly jealous if she could even find the energy to think about it.

As she felt the spots of colour in her viewpoint turn into splotches of black, she realized that she hadn’t had breakfast yet and this might explain why she felt so lightheaded.

“What the bloody hell, Snape?” Elpida breathed heavily, looking around frantically at the aftermath. “I’m not just going to look the other way if you murder him!”

Popov’s prone and limp form lay bloodied on the corridor floor. Severus had hit him with a Sectumsempra that turned out more violent than he’d ever seen it before. The fucking Soviet had it coming.

“Don’t be alarmed, Dalton,” Severus said smoothly. “He’s only knocked out. Get going and take Perri to the hospital wing before I hex you too. Calliope and I will perform the countercurse and be along shortly.”

Ellie glared daggers at him, but swiftly gathered up her and Hermione’s wands before performing a levitation spell. Once Severus was satisfied that her dirty blonde hair was bobbing up and down the corridor as she hurried away with her charge, he turned to Callie.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “But I could have handled it myself.”

“I think you’re glad I stepped in,” Callie responded matter-of-factly. She looked down at Popov, still bleeding onto the floor but a little less rapidly. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you actually mean to kill him? I didn’t think you wanted to get expelled.”

“No,” he said bitterly, looking at Popov as if he were a particularly large cockroach. “I was just hoping to give him a blood-clotting disorder.” He knelt down and began to chant, sealing up Popov’s wounds with his wand. He purposefully did a clumsy job, hoping it would hurt when Madam Pomfrey corrected his work.

“Done,” he said shortly, standing up. “Anything amiss?” He turned to Calliope, stonily appraising the situation.

“Yes,” she said. “Fight looks too unfair.”

“Even with the Crucio?”

She shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. I’ll get Elpida to agree to the story.” She lifted her wand, raising it to cast but hesitating halfway through. “I can trust you to keep quiet about… this, Snape?” She raised an eyebrow.

He grinned. “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Cohen.”

She glared at him. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. Okay, right arm or left arm?”

“Right arm,” he said confidently. “It’s my wand arm, so it looks convincing. I’ve been working on my left hook, so I should be fine until its healed.”

“Right.” She looked both ways just to be sure they were alone before raising her wand again. “Remember, be quiet.”

Severus stiffened, determined not to scream as his arm broke.

The official story was similar enough to what happened.

Calliope, as the Prefect, described the ambush in the corridor and shuffling the first years away from danger. Once she and Elpida returned from that task, they had witnessed Snape send an unknown curse to defend himself at the same time Popov performed Crucio. Popov was a miserable duelist, had hit Anna Perri on accident, who had fallen backward into Snape and broken his arm with the force of the spell. Calliope then rushed over to Popov to heal him up as he bled out, screaming about Snape getting what he deserved, and that Popov would finish what he had started by the lake in August. Elpida brought Anna to the hospital wing while Calliope brought the two young men.

This story was delivered that evening to Albus Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey in the hospital wing in full view of the recovery beds of Severus Snape and Anna Perri. Madam Pomfrey had treated them that morning and allowed them to rest the entire day before the questioning became more than perfunctory. Hermione had drifted in and out of sleep, still exhausted from the brunt of the Cruciatus on an empty stomach. Pomfrey had spent much of the day tending to Mr. Popov, who was still recovering in a locked room at the end of the ward, though none of the others had been informed of his status.

Elpida sat in a chair next to Anna’s bed, blue eyes shining, mouth a brittle line. She added nothing to the account, merely perfecting her poker face and nodding in agreement. Callie’s was her usual wide-eyed, stern expression. She had perfected the quiet poker face.

Madam Pomfrey had a small crease between her eyebrows as she listened. “That certainly… explains the injuries.” She said finally.

Professor Dumbledore showed no reaction in his face. “Miss Perri,” he said, turning to Hermione’s bed. “Does this seem accurate to you?”

“I believe so, Professor. I passed out after I was hit with the Cruciatus curse, so I can’t confirm anything that happened after,” she said quietly.

He stared at her for a moment, before giving a sharp nod. “And… Mr. Snape, you will confirm that Mr. Popov performed a Crucio?”

Severus nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“In light of the circumstances, I will not inquire as to the curse you used on him,” Dumbledore said quietly. It was a voice reminiscent of Professor Snape’s quiet voice, equally as frightening as being screamed at. “However, in future, I will not be so… remiss.”

Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. “When Mr. Popov is fully recovered, you may inform him of his expulsion. He is not to be permitted to walk through the corridors; one of the house-elves can pack his trunk for him and apparate him to Hogsmeade Station when he is able to leave. I will speak to his sister as to her desired course of action, as she may wish to follow her brother back to Moscow.”

“Incidentally,” Dumbledore said lightly, turning back to the group of students watching him. “I received an owl this evening with dinner for an urgent message for the Popovs. Apparently, their father Anton has been released by the Muggle authorities after some intervention from the Soviet Ministry. The message was passed to our British Ministry of Magic and forwarded to me. I am sure Mr. Popov will be glad to see his father when he returns.”

Dumbledore nodded cheerfully to Madam Pomfrey and swept from the room.

Madam Pomfrey still looked slightly disturbed but shook her head and brushed it off. She looked at the quartet and said, “ten minutes before visiting hours are up”, before hurrying to check on Popov’s status.

Calliope turned around to face the beds, scowling. “I’m sorry for everything, Anna.”

“Was it really necessary to lie?” Hermione frowned, looking over at Severus.

“Yes,” Ellie whispered from the side of the bed. “They allow the Dark Arts at Durmstrang, not here.” She looked over at Severus as well, raising her voice so he could hear. “We had to account for you mutilating a student. If you’re going to be hanging out with Annie, you’ll need to control your temper.” She said, not hiding her irritation. “I don’t want to be worrying about her hanging out with you and your crowd.”

Snape glowered at her. “Seeing as it was a Ravenclaw who cursed her, I should be more worried about you and your crowd.”

“Stop it, this is childish.” Calliope pushed her thick glasses up her nose and gestured to Ellie. “Come on, Elpida, we should let them rest. They’ll probably be here a few more days.”

“Yes, we will,” Hermione sighed, deciding to let the lie go for now. “Madam Pomfrey warned me I’d miss the Halloween feast tomorrow night. She hasn’t seen recovery from a Cruciatus before and sometimes there can be long-term effects.”

Ellie reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze before standing. “You should be done by now though, Snape,” she said to him. “It’s only a broken arm.” Ellie was fast becoming as protective as a bulldog when it concerned Hermione.

Severus smirked. “It’s my wand arm, Dalton. I told Pomfrey I wanted it healed the slow way to make sure it stays nimble. That involves more potions and a longer recovery time.”

“Right,” Ellie mumbled, still suspicious. Nevertheless, she said her final goodbye to Hermione as Callie nodded to each of them curtly before exiting the hospital wing.

Hermione looked over at Severus. He returned her gaze from his bed, shifting slowly so as not to disturb his arm.

After a few moments, sure they were completely alone, she hissed, “Mutilating a student?”

Severus winced and looked apologetic, waiting for the lecture.

Hermione huffed, not sure if she was as angry as she should be.

“Did you actually break your arm when I passed out?”

“It is actually broken,” he hedged. Yes, that’s what I thought, this is a ploy to keep him out of trouble. I’ll have to thank Callie and Ellie for covering this up.

“Well… thank you,” she said stiffly. “Thank you for defending me, though I’m not sure I approve of your methods.”

Severus nodded, looking a bit relieved. They passed a few moments of silence together, each propped on their side and staring at the other. They were lying in side-by-side beds, currently unobscured by curtains. It felt quite intimate.

“May I ask you something?” Severus said softly, clearly affected by the closeness of their positioning. At Hermione’s nod, he continued. “You asked Calliope for your wand when we were interrogating Popov.”

“I know,” Hermione closed her eyes as she blushed in furious embarrassment. “I know, it was a stupid thing to do and then he got his wand back from that. I could kick myself for such a dumb move, but at least it was me who got the Crucio for that and none of you-”

“Don’t say that!” Severus hissed, shifting again. “I wasn’t blaming you, I just wanted to understand why you asked for your wand.”

“He admitted it!” She said in a loud whisper. “He admitted that he knocked you off your broom and left you for dead. I-I was…” Hermione didn’t continue, feeling the same roaring emotion encompass her body that she had felt at the time.

She had wanted to hurt Popov until he cried for his mother, bring him to the edge of insanity before leaving him a helpless, sobbing mess. She hadn’t thought out what she was going to use her wand for. Maybe just something humiliating to start with, followed up with blackmail or framing him for something to get him expelled.

She was angry with Severus for hurting Popov because she had wanted to do something to him herself. The smug transfer had tried to kill Severus- her Severus. How could she let him get away with that?

Hermione slowly realized with no small amount of disgust with herself that there was another reason she was angry with Severus. The idea of him angrily mutilating Popov in a fury pleased her. She should not get an aroused thrill from the thought of a vicious, Dark Severus causing someone pain. She couldn’t help the satisfaction that she felt now, just as she had barreled on full speed ahead with putting Rita Skeeter in a jar, or ensuring SNEAK wouldn’t come off Marietta Edgecombe’s face, or sending butterfly-birds to peck and scratch at Ronald Weasley’s slobber-covered face. This Hermione had always been buried in there somewhere.

Hermione looked over at Severus and found he was devouring her with his eyes.

He knew. He knew she was pleased. He could see that she had some streak of sadism, some hint of ensnaring darkness that she was struggling to keep in check.

That look, she thought, watching his mouth twitch seductively. This man is already sex on a stick. She felt her face growing hot as he appraised her, remembering that even though they were in hospital, there were beds here.

Then, as soon as she felt herself growing warm between her legs which were hidden beneath the blankets, she remembered.

He called her Calliope, Hermione thought. And he gave her that look as well.

Angry, aroused, and exhausted, Hermione broke his gaze and turned away from him, mumbling “goodnight.”

The next day before breakfast, Hermione was visited by Marina, Marlene, Arabella, and Lily.

Lily must have spoken to the other girls ahead of time, because she strategically positioned herself away from Severus so she could neither see him nor face him. Severus appeared undisturbed by her presence, and leisurely lay reading a book, one leg crossed over the other. He had set the book to levitate in front of his face, so he needn’t use his bad arm, turning the pages with a lazy wave of his free hand.

Marina was eager for the details of the attack, as if it had been an interesting movie or television program, and Lily and Marlene asked questions about Popov’s motivations. Hermione had the feeling that Marlene was here to keep Lily from giving Snape a piece of her mind.

Hermione was thankful that she could blame the Cruciatus curse and her healing regimen on her “fuzzy memory”. She remembered the false story that Calliope had concocted, she just wasn’t sure she could keep up with the incidental details under pointed questioning. She didn’t want to reveal yet that Severus and she were walking down from Gryffindor together, nor that he had shielded her. It would come up eventually, of course, but it would be easier to deal with when she was completely healed.

Arabella was charming as usual, and she focused more on asking questions about potions and spells that Madam Pomfrey had favored for treatment. She had no problem in directing a few of these questions to Severus as well, smiling at him and shuffling over to look at his arm. Hermione struggled to keep herself from seething as Severus peered out from behind his book and allowed Arabella to sweetly fuss over him. Lily looked perturbed as well but rolled her eyes and ignored it. Apparently, the flirting was just what Arabella did.

After a short visit with promises of sending someone later with homework, the girls left.

There was a brief commotion in the hallway, not even long enough to be concerned about, before the Slytherins entered. Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, and Wilkes walked in together looking angry. Hermione widened her eyes, but quickly averted them and grabbed a book from her own nightstand to read.

“Can’t we make her leave?” One of them hissed.

“Just cast a silencing spell.”

“No, you berk. Pomfrey’s wards don’t allow silencing spells here.”

The Slytherins stood there awkwardly, clearly unwilling to speak freely with Hermione so close by.

“Avery,” she said calmly, not looking up from her book. “I quite agree with your thoughts on the human soul, but your interpretation of the animal soul leaves much to be desired.” She waited for a pause before looking up. The Slytherins visibly relaxed, and Mulciber emptied a few things onto Snape’s bed as Rosier grabbed a chair next to the bed.

“Here’s your homework,” Rosier said. “You still owe Wilkes and Mulciber assignments for guard duty the other day.”

“What guard duty?” Snape drawled. “I only saw Wilkes.”

“Yes, but you called me off, didn’t yeh,” Milton leered. “I still had to make up for it.”

You still had to do your own work, more like.

Severus sneered but nodded curtly. “Fine. As for the rest, I won’t be needing all of your services any longer. Guard duty will be reduced by half.”

Hermione perked up to hear this but kept her face hidden in her book. She wasn’t going to suggest that he didn’t need guard duty anymore after yesterday, but she was glad not to have as much extra work.

“What?” Wilkes whined. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” Avery said, “Popov was much of the problem and that’s been handled.” Avery was careful not to say that they weren’t involved in handling the problem. He was smart enough to figure out that this would be unwise to point out.

“Do you want me to choose the two,” Snape said in a bored voice, “or can you work out an alternating schedule?”

Hermione glanced over to look at the Slytherins. She personally would prefer Avery and Rosier. They were the more intelligent ones and writing their assignments wouldn’t feel like banging her head against the wall. It was mind numbing to write to an Acceptable level for Mulciber and Wilkes’ essays.

The Slytherins had greedy looks on their faces. It was easy to figure out that with only two for guard duty, they could keep to the same one assignment per day, or alternate and have two completed every other day. However, there was always the risk that Snape wouldn’t choose them. They huddled together and the decision was reached quickly.

Greed over caution it was.

“Choose your two,” Wilkes said.

“Rosier and…” Snape looked around at them, debating. “Mulciber.”

Rosier and Mulciber grinned, Wilkes looked furious, and Avery looked shocked to not be chosen. As Rosier and Mulciber walked a distance away to work out a schedule, Avery protested.

“I’ve made my decision,” Snape said, waving him off.

“I’ll guard without the assignments,” Avery said. “Just give me your consort as payment.”

Hermione turned her head fully, forgetting to pretend she wasn’t listening.

A hush came over the group of Slytherins, waiting to see what Snape would do. Severus made no reaction to Avery’s statement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, John.”

“You have two consorts, Snape, you don’t need both of them. I’ll take this one, she’s not as stupid as they usually are.” Avery looked over at Hermione and she felt her face slowly redden. She knew she should look away, but she couldn’t.

“I have no consort,” Snape said through gritted teeth.

Avery leaned in closer to Snape and said something Hermione couldn’t hear. He gestured to the pile on the bed, which Hermione figured out was a pile of letters, as he looked over at her again. He reminded her a bit of Draco Malfoy. Not terrible looking, but certainly a creep.

Severus snarled something back at Avery and a few of the words drifted over. “…knew I made the right choice. Get out of my sight.”

Avery shrugged and nodded to Wilkes to leave. Mulciber and Rosier looked hesitant, but Mulciber headed for the door after the other two. Rosier came over to speak to Snape.

“Sorry, Severus, that was bad form. Is the deal still on if your consort quits writing-”

“Fuck off, Evan.”

Rosier raised his palms out as if to say, ‘hey just trying to help’ before he also turned and exited the hospital wing.

Once the doors shut, Severus flung himself roughly back on the pillows and closed his eyes. She saw him wince, as he hadn’t taken care to cushion his arm.

He just wants to go to sleep so he doesn’t have to talk about that, she fumed. Smart man. He knows I’m not happy with him.

They spent the rest of the day avoiding one another, despite being in side-by-side beds for much of it. Severus was using the bathroom for far longer than Hermione thought he needed to be, and it always coincided with times that she put her book down, determined to speak to him.

That evening as they missed the Halloween feast, she caught him, deciding to start slowly.

“I would have picked Rosier and Avery,” she said nonchalantly. “Avery’s papers are easier to write.”

Severus grunted, seemingly determined not to talk about it.

“Why Mulciber, anyway?” she asked. “He’s just as off-putting as Avery, maybe more so. Why I’ve heard a few stories about him-”

“Rosier is the best duelist,” Snape said stonily. “He’s also the most bearable to be around. Wilkes is a troll, perhaps quite literally if the rumors about his heritage are to be believed. It was a toss-up between Avery and Mulciber. Mulciber is stupider and slimier, but he’s good at curses and thinks quickly on his feet. Avery is intelligent, good with people, and a little charming, granted, but he’s a fucking coward. If it’s only him and I together in an ambush, he’ll turn tail and run. If he weren’t in Slytherin house he would never…” Severus stopped there, already knowing Hermione knew the answer.

“He never would never join Voldemort,” she finished for him. She wasn’t sure that was an accurate statement. Only joining Voldemort for convenience? It sounded familiar to her. “There are cowards in Gryffindor as well,” she said quietly, thinking of one in particular.

Severus smirked, finally looking over at her. “Pettigrew,” he said. Hermione looked at him in horror, instinctively checking her Occlumency shields before finding them unbreeched. She nodded sharply, and he graced her with an almost genuine smile of agreement. “Better watch out for your friend,” Severus chuckled, turning back to his floating book. “He likes her.”

Hermione half-gasped in consternation but shut her mouth quickly, biting her lip, when she saw Madam Pomfrey hurrying over to prepare their nighttime potions treatments. She would have to ask him about that later.

The earlier question about consorts was quite forgotten.  

Hermione jolted awake that night.

It was dark in the hospital wing, but there was a light, just over there. She frowned, watching the small glowing dot bob up and down as it floated from the doorway over to the bed next to hers.

Her eyes widened. She realized what was happening and grabbed her wand from the nightstand just as the invisibility cloak was thrown off the two young men holding lit wands and standing over Severus.

Severus jerked away at the rustling and looked up, startled.

Sirius Black and James Potter towered over him, shaking with fury.

“I’m going to kill you, Snape,” Potter said dangerously. “I swear to God, I’m going to kill you.”

Chapter Text

“You better not,” Hermione said coldly, sitting up in bed, her wand pointed at James. “You have a witness. You’d have to kill me too.”

The two swiveled their heads to look at her. James appeared to hesitate, but Sirius merely looked inconvenienced.

“Snivellus,” Black sneered, turning back to Snape, bereft of humour. “You even got a girlfriend to come to your funeral. Pity she-”

“YOU KILLED THEM!” James interrupted his friend, snapped back to Snape, and roared in a perfect imitation of his future son. “You killed them and I’m going to kill you! AV-”

“EXPELLIARMUS!” Hermione cried, leaping out of the bed. Sirius’ and James’ wands flew out of their hands and towards Hermione, accompanied by Severus’ wand that had been on his nightstand.

Hermione was determined not to make the same mistake as before when Callie held her and Popov’s wands, so she shoved the wands behind her and under her bed covers, blocking them with her body and her own raised wand.

As soon as it registered that he had lost his wand, James had raised his fist to pummel Severus below him in the bed. Sirius, however, at least had the foresight to realize this was a bad idea and had pulled James back forcefully, whispering, “we need to explain to her, she’ll help us then” and other unintelligible things as he held him tightly. James struggled against his friend for a few moments, breathing heavily and trying to keep his body in check.

In the meantime, Severus had taken advantage of James retreating and had shoved off the bed and towards Hermione. He looked a mix between terrified and furious. He stood beside her, eyes darting behind her to the bedsheets and his wand, but he so far referred to her to mediate with her raised wand.

“Now,” said Hermione, trying to keep herself from shaking with fear. I need to diffuse the situation. “What’s this all about?”

James finally stopped struggling against Sirius’ arms. Sirius felt it was safe to release his friend, who was still shaking in anger and emotion.

“The Potters- James’ parents- are dead,” Sirius said roughly. “The Dark Mark was found over their house tonight. It was in retaliation-”

“THEY SAID NO!” James yelled again, still shaking. “THEY SAID NO TO GIVING HIM THE MONEY AND YOU MURDERED THEM FOR IT- YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS- I KNOW YOU’RE ONE OF THEM! I’LL KILL YOU, SNAPE, I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU BLOODY FUCKING DEATH EATERS!”

James kicked and struggled against Sirius, who was gripping him tightly and glaring daggers at Snape.

“I- I’m… I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered, eyes wide. She lowered her wand slightly, so it was still at the ready, but not pointed at James.

He reminded her so much of Harry.

“Are you?” Sirius snarled at her, still holding on to a thrashing James. “You’re the one defending him.” His head jerked toward Severus. “Everyone knows he’s trying to snivel into Voldemort’s good favour.” He looked at Severus then and hissed, “What a perfect little shit you are, Snape, finally done something worthy enough to catch his attention. You just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a go at James-”

“You’re wrong!” Hermione said heatedly, coming to Severus’ defense as quickly as she had when it was Popov on the attack. She looked frantically at James, willing him to believe her, but trying to be gentle at the same time. “I’m so so very sorry about your parents, James, but Severus had nothing to do with it! He’s been in the hospital wing with me the entire time!”

“HE HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH IT! HE’S NOT ABOVE GOING FOR SOMEONE’S FAMILY! HE WENT FOR ALEX’S DAD AND GAVE HIM TO THE SOVIET SECRET POLICE TO BE TORTURED!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Potter. I have no contacts in the U.S.S.R.” Snape had slipped behind her and retrieved his wand from under the bedsheets. He stood behind Hermione now, raising his wand above Hermione’s shoulder to point at the screaming young man. She felt his raggedy intake of breath as he did so. He must have slipped his arm out of the sling to be able to hold his wand in his right hand. “Although, I do regret that I was not involved in that particular meting out of justice. It was quite… inspired.”

“A real winner, aren’t you?” Sirius bit out. “Let me guess, you did the same in this case? Holing yourself up in here with a flimsy excuse for an injury while your goons kill his parents for you? You’ve always been jealous of James! Even Evans stopped falling for the downtrodden poor boy act! Looks like you’ve got another pussy to huddle behind now, you coward!”

“I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, BLACK!” Severus yelled, finally broken by the taunts.

“NO?” Sirius roared, forgetting to hold James down. James didn’t immediately rush forward, startled at actually being released. “BUT YOU REGRET NOT BEING INVOLVED IN THAT TOO, DON’T YOU?”

“Of course not,” Severus hissed. “I would have gone straight for the both of you. Why waste my time with incidentals?”

“THEY AREN’T INCIDENTALS, YOU BLOODY SLYTHERIN BASTARD! THEY’RE MY MUM AND DAD! THEY’RE INCREDIBLE PEOPLE AND THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN KINDER TO YOU THAN YOU DESERVE! THEY ARE- They WERE- They- THEY are…”

James choked over his last words; he had finally run out of steam. Sirius seemed unsurprised, merely holding his friend back and coldly looking at Hermione and Severus. Hermione realized that Sirius might not have definitively known anything would happen here tonight, but he knew James needed to scream at someone.

James crumbled to the floor, holding his head in his hands just as Madam Pomfrey burst into the ward.

“What in the fates is this?” She flicked the lower oil lamps into flame with a quick wave as she rushed along the ward in her dressing gown. “Mr. Black, Mr. Potter! Do you have a medical emergency that necessitates…”

She trailed off when she saw James on the floor sobbing with his head in his hands.

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall strode in through the entrance to the hospital wing just at that moment. McGonagall had wide eyes and a grim line for a mouth, rushing forward in her own tartan dressing gown. Dumbledore was in his regular voluminous robes and appeared unsurprised.

James continued to shake and sob as he was crouched on the floor, moaning like a wounded animal. Sirius had dropped to the floor along with him, shielding him from the people huddled over him. Hermione saw a few tears streaking silently out of the edge of Sirius’ eyes which still held an angry, haunted look. It was the first time she had seen a semblance of the Sirius Black she had known, scarred by his time in prison.  

“Poppy, I apologise,” Dumbledore said quietly when he arrived at the group. “Mr. Potter was informed tonight- actually, yesterday evening by now- of his parents’ death. He expressed a desire to be left alone to grieve with his friends, but… it is completely understandable to feel overwhelmed in these circumstances…”

Minerva McGonagall snuck a furious glare at Dumbledore and crouched over the boys on the ground.

“Some calming draughts…” Madam Pomfrey mumbled, half to herself.

“Something stronger for tonight, I think,” said Dumbledore somberly. “Professor Slughorn often brews large batches of dreamless sleep, so there should be some on hand for any student who needed it to sleep peacefully for… oh, let’s say for a few weeks.”

Not much time later and Sirius’ and James’ wands were returned, and they were both sent away, escorted by Professor McGonagall with plenty of calming draughts and dreamless sleep potions. Dumbledore had a whispered conversation with Madam Pomfrey for a few moments before sweeping away. Poppy extinguished the lights again and Hermione and Severus separated wordlessly to return to their beds.

It would have made sense to give them each a vial of dreamless sleep as well, for Hermione tossed and turned the rest of the night, and Severus forgot to breathe loudly enough to feign sleep.

Severus and Hermione were discharged to their respective dorms the next morning to hear the news themselves. The student body was abuzz with whispers about the latest Death Eater attacks, which had been covered in the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. The headline read, Halloween Massacre of Prominent Pureblood Family, but thankfully only described the burned-out Potter residence without depicting it. For the accompanying photograph, the grim face of Minister Harold Minchum’s black and white form spoke of heightened security measures being taken by the MLE office to defend against You-Know-Who.

At breakfast, Hermione quickly perused the Daily Prophet she had nicked from the couch in the common room.

…sad discovery of Fleamont Potter and his wife Euphemia…

…survived by their son James, Hogwarts Head Boy…

Aurors suspect they were approached by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his supporters who were searching for financial backing and political support for their fringe paramilitary group…

While the Potter Family is not included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight of the widely read “Pure-Blood Directory”, it is often included in so-called apocryphal purity lists such as “The Much-Favored Fifty” and the “The Untainted Eighty”, as the Potter line of Wizards is descended from ancient houses such as the Peverells…

Potter is best known as the inventor of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion…

…the Potters’ wealth made them a clear target of the Death Eaters…

Is it also the Pro-Muggle viewpoint of the Potters that made them a target or will the Death Eaters come after other prominent Pureblood families? Minister Minchum released a statement…

“Hey, Anna.”

Hermione looked up, startled out of her reading. “Marina. Hey, how are you?”

The normally bubbly girl grunted and sunk into the seat across from her. “You weren’t at the feast last night.” She nodded at the paper. “James was pulled out of the hall by McGonagall just as dessert came out. By the time the feast was done, and we went up to the tower, he was back from seeing Dumbledore and ranting and raving.”

“Was he?” Hermione whispered.

Marina nodded. “Lily tried talking to him, but eventually he went off with the other boys. They didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were going out onto the grounds. I think they went to blast trees in the Forbidden Forest.”

Run in Animagus form, probably.

“Is it true?” Marina looked at her icily as she pointed again at the newspaper on the table. “Was Snape involved?”

“Absolutely not!” Hermione hissed. Her eyes darted around the room, and she leaned forward. “Who told you that?”

Marina relaxed a bit, looked away, and shrugged. “It was James’ first guess. Remus didn’t think so, but… well, just thought I’d check with you. From what Callie told me, l figured you might know.”

Hermione’s irritation did not abate by much. “What has Callie been telling you?”

Marina had the good sense to look a bit guilty. “She didn’t say anything outright… just… well, that there is actually a valid reason for you spending time with Snape.”

Hermione blanched. “Who said I’ve been spending time with Snape?”

Marina snorted. “Please. Lily figured it out pretty quickly when you didn’t want to watch Quidditch practices anymore. Callie explained that you were doing some investigating into his activities. You need to be more careful about it though, can’t be stepping in between him and well-deserved curses anymore.”

“What?” She hissed again.

“Popov, of course! You took a Cruciatus Curse for Snape!” Marina looked guilty again, remembering Hermione’s recent injuries and the brunette softened further, babbling on. “I’m glad he wasn’t involved in this at any rate, but I expect you’ll be keeping an eye on him and his friends to find out what they are involved in. Lily is likely going to talk James off the cliff and let him know that you’ve got it handled. They’ll stay back and leave you and Snape alone, but you need to come forward if you learn anything important, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Hermione said between gritted teeth. It was essential to keep her cool now so that Marina would keep talking. “You know about him coming to the Hospital Wing last night then?”

“That was a bit of luck actually. Lily had trouble sleeping and went to check on James to find him missing. She woke us seventh-year girls and got us down to the common room in time to see James and Sirius come back with McGonagall. You know how Lily is,” Marina gave a little giggle, “she told them to march right up and wake Peter and Remus and we’d all have a chat together. I think she just wanted to make sure no one would go sneaking off again on their own to burn the world down in revenge. She said Muggles talk things out, theropee I think it’s called.”

“In the middle of the night?” Hermione said, agog.

“Sure! Why do you think I’m the only one here for breakfast? I’m just hungrier than I am tired, that’s all.” As if to prove a point, Marina grabbed a scone from the basket on the table. “Lily sat with James, Marlene sat with Remus, Arabella sat with Sirius, and I sat with Peter. He’s sweet, he is. He was moved to tears for his friend you know, but he’s really worried about his own family now.”

She bit into the scone and chewed for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, all the boys needed was some tea and biscuits and a bit of a chat and they’ve agreed not to touch Snape or any of the other Slytherins until there’s more definite information.”

Hermione was angry, shocked, and somewhat impressed. The girl group was far more in control of things than she ever would have realized. Sure, the Marauders were the daring gang of Animagi, but… it took almost no convincing at all for the girls to redirect them and set some limits. Hermione mumbled through the rest of the conversation with Marina as she tried to sort through her thoughts.

As the week continued, the power of the Gryffindor girls proved itself further.

James Potter and Sirius Black steered clear of Hermione, and a few times she saw a sympathetic, grateful look in James’ eyes. Not quite an apology, but it was clear he now thought she was on his side. They think I’m the double agent spying on Severus for them, she realized. How ironic.

The change to the student body was palpable as well, for James Potter was a well-known and popular figure at the school and his family was wealthy, prominent, and Pureblood. The question in the air was, if it could happen to them, couldn’t it happen to anyone?

The Cook family did debate relocating and pulling Arabella to go with them. The beautiful brunette did not appear as carefree as she normally was, fretting that Beauxbatons would not be much safer, and the American school did not appeal to her at all.

Dumbledore said nothing. She met with him for all of five minutes and after a few terse questions on both sides, he learned she was convinced of Snape’s innocence, and she learned nothing. If Dumbledore knew any further specifics of the death of the Potters, he wouldn’t confide in her.

Dumbledore in this time hadn’t been much help at all, but he did check the outer Occlumency layers of her mind and tell her she was convincing as an airheaded teenage girl, at least. Hopefully, a probing Legilimens wouldn’t know there was a further intellect hiding there.

Severus was no help in any of this, further frustrating Hermione.

“It was faked,” he told her in a low tone the next time he saw her in the library.

Now that she knew her clandestine library sessions with Severus were known about and approved of by no less than 10 people (eight Gryffindors and two Ravenclaws if she had her maths right), they were far less appealing to her. She was on the fence as whether to trust him with the information of her… “double agent” status. For one, he would eventually be a Death Eater, and for two, wasn’t it Calliope who had helped spread this rumour? What was Callie to him? He had looked at her so… so fondly!

“What do you mean, faked?” She said in a dangerous tone.

“The Potters aren’t dead. If they are, it wasn’t the Death Eaters.”

Hermione just looked at him. He can’t really be this fucking stupid, can he? The brilliant Severus Snape?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, glowering. “You know… you know I have my sources; you know I have political leanings.”

“Yes, so I’m inclined to believe you are extremely naïve at best and at worst you’re either a sadistic scumbag or a complete dunderhead.”

Severus snorted bemusedly, which was quite infuriating to Hermione.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” she said. “What makes you so sure they aren’t dead?”

“That it was faked,” he clarified. “I can’t know if they’re alive or not. Maybe someone else killed them and had an easy scapegoat.”

“Of course, the Death Eaters are an easy scapegoat! Don’t they go around killing Aurors-”

“Political demonstrations that turn violent.” Severus’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying the movement isn’t violent, but I’m saying it’s not so one-sided. It’s not murder like this- you can hardly build support for a cause by murdering its most likely followers. This is the beginning of a revolt. Rebellions,” he lowered his voice, “revolutions can turn violent, but they have an end in mind. The Protestant Reformation, the French Revolution, the Bolshevik uprising, they were rebelling against clear injustices of their time-”

“Severus!” Hermione protested wide-eyed. “Please! If you’re a student of history then you know the deaths that resulted from these movements! Meaningless deaths!”

“Tragedies.” He nodded sharply. “Yes, tragedies. I am no politician, no leader, if I were to run a movement I would act differently, however…” He trailed off in thought. For a split second, Hermione sensed that he was uneasy with the path he was on, but then Severus doubled down. “However, I cannot avoid becoming involved and it is clear which side I stand on.”

“It isn’t clear, Severus, it isn’t.” Hermione grabbed his hand and held it across the library table. She knew what contact did for him and sure enough, when she met his eyes again, they had become darker. “You don’t have to stand on that side,” she whispered. “You don’t have to make this choice!”

“The decision has already been made!” He snarled, eyes wide, jerking his hand away. They had held the conversation in hushed tones the entire time, but he was anything but timid in this reply. “I do not make the decision, but it is made for me! It is clear what side I stand on. It was clear when I was sorted, perhaps even before I was sorted, when I expressed a dislike for the mighty and beloved Gryffindor House.”

His tone stung with bitterness as he made his case. “I have always been disliked; the worst assumed of me. I have been hexed and maimed and cursed more times than I can remember, and it does not shock or surprise me in the slightest that my life has less worth here than a flobberworm’s. I do nothing apart from exist and it is assumed I am a- what, a sadistic scumbag, as you say.”

Severus’ eyes met hers and he recoiled, finally putting together that he was just the same sadistic scumbag she believed the others to be.

He hissed at her angrily. “The attempts on my life are not new! Damned if I do, damned if I don’t! If I were to eschew the Dark Arts or the Death Eaters, I would have hell to pay from my own house, but if I only remain neutral- as I was up until last year- then, still I am attacked by the noble, valiant Gryffindor House simply for my mannerisms, my appearance, my continued existence! My decision was made without my input. At least this way I have a defense! I’m not about to roll over and take it like my mother did! At least this way I have some say in where I end up besides dead in a ditch!”

Severus had stormed off after that, leaving Hermione aching.

What a life he had lived… At least Harry and she had finally made friends at Hogwarts. Severus had only really had Lily, and now he had no one.

Severus wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t meet with her after that. She spent the next week without seeing him, and even spending time with the girls gave her no joy, since they all believed she was simply using Snape anyway. “I confronted him and he’s angry with me,” she told them.

“He won’t stay away long,” Lily said. “He gets bored without someone to talk to.” This was said in a quiet voice, not bitter and resentful as it usually was when she commented on Snape.

Lily hadn’t been at the library much recently. She had taken it upon herself to protect and comfort James in his recent tragedy, spending most nights studying with him in the Head suites. She had mellowed out somewhat from extended contact with James. Hermione suspected they would announce a relationship soon. Hopefully, Severus wouldn’t be even harder to deal with then.

“He’ll open up when you see him again,” Calliope said quietly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Callie and seethed internally. She still needed to get Callie on her own and demand answers from her, but the girl was as slippery as Severus was and difficult to corner. Hermione didn’t want to give away to the other girls that there was something amiss.

As her eyes left Callie and returned to her own books, they fell across Elpida, who had turned away at the same time. Before Hermione’s face dropped into a neutral look, Ellie had a direct view of the anger and suspicion that had been directed at Callie. Before Hermione glanced away, Ellie raised an eyebrow and gave an imperceptible nod.

Understood, she seemed to say. I’ll keep an eye out.

The first Quidditch match was Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw and, thankfully, Ravenclaw won. Hermione cheered for Ellie with the other girls as she tried to spot Severus in the stands.

November grew chillier and a little drearier. The dungeons would be getting colder at night. How would Severus fare?

Schoolwork was drudgery, everything was drudgery. He would sit as far from her as possible in classes and be sure not to look at her.

Severus wouldn’t talk to her!

He had become her best friend, she had wanted him as a lover for ages, she admired the man he would later be, and felt a fierce protective instinct for the younger man he was now. How could she be such a fool to force him away! He would eventually see the error of his ways, and didn’t she want to be there to pick up the pieces?

It was nearing the end of November when Hermione had waited long enough.

He wasn’t at the make-shift gymnasium at six the next morning, nor the two mornings following that. Hermione didn’t think he would quit exercising, for he was taking his self-defense seriously at this point. He must be coming at a different time.

Chapter Text

“Perri!”

Hermione was startled awake. She quickly scrambled up the wall but was relieved when she realized it was Severus who spoke. Mulciber stood a few yards behind him.

“Fucking hell, Snape, stop ignoring your consort and share with someone else if you can’t get it up-”

Severus hit Mulciber with a non-verbal silencing charm and flashed him a rude hand gesture. Mulciber returned the symbol and retreated down the staircase.

Severus guided Hermione inside the Room of Requirement ala Gym and shut the door, swiveling on his feet and rounding on her.

“What do you think you’re doing here? Did you sleep in the corridor all night?!”

“What? No, no I knew you wouldn’t come at too odd an hour; I’ve only been here since three,” she reassured him.

“WHAT?!”

“Please Severus! I didn’t know what time you were coming, and I knew you were giving me the slip somehow! What time is it anyway?”

He grunted and turned away. “Five,” he said grudgingly.

“You used to come at six! Admit you changed the time to avoid me!”

“Gladly!” he retorted, snarling.

“Why? Why are you avoiding me?”

He turned back and looked at her with wide, dark eyes. “I thought it was what you wanted!”

“No!” Hermione looked appropriately aghast. “No, of course not. I’ve…” She swallowed. “I’ve missed you.”

“You have?” He looked surprised, disbelieving. “I thought you were telling me to make a choice… and you disapprove…”

“I will always disapprove of that choice, Severus,” Hermione said fiercely. “And I’ll be here waiting for you to come to your senses; to tell you what a bloody berk you’ve been when you realize it too.”

Severus stared at her, looking somewhat awestruck. He said nothing in response and Hermione realized she should take advantage of his attention while she had it. While they were on the difficult subject, might as well go for broke.

“Just, I don’t want you acting like the people you associate with if you can help it. Whatever… violent revolutionary actions you can stay out of, do so. I don’t agree that you should be getting involved in all this at all, but… I wish you’d limit your involvement… if you could.”

It was a lame stipulation, she knew.

Lily was right, how could she continue to associate with him? I care for you so much, Severus, just please don’t go murdering anyone I know.

Severus said nothing for a few beats before replying. “This is a condition of our… association?”

Hermione waited long enough for her words to sink in. “I feel that I’ve been fairly accommodating thus far,” she said quietly.

He lifted his hand and ran it through his long hair, a gesture she had come to recognize as nervousness. “I have made no explicit promises, but I am much indebted to… to a prominent revolutionary. Backing out at this point would be exceedingly foolish.”

Lucius Malfoy. He said before that Malfoy was funding him after his parents died.

“Is… is there a way you can make yourself useful to your cause in- in a non-violent way?” She asked, grasping at anything he was willing to concede.  

“Such as?” Severus raised an eyebrow.

He did not appear angry at her meddling, that was a good sign.

“Spell-making? Or… or…” she whispered the last word as her eyes widened in realization, “…Potions?”

Severus shifted on his feet, responding with a slow drawl. “Potions are not necessarily non-violent. As I’ve said before, they can be used for ill intent. Nonetheless…” He appeared to be weighing the merits of the suggestion and inclined his head thoughtfully. “A potion’s apprenticeship to earn mastery can take two to three years…”

“And you can stay out of trouble for a bit before you need to make any decisions!” Hermione finished excitedly. “You can give it some time to-”

“To come to my senses?” Severus finished, still looking stonily neutral.

“To not get involved until you have to!”

“No, Hermione,” Severus said firmly and quietly. “Continuing on in Potions is an apt suggestion, and one I will seriously consider; however, I am already involved as you put it. I have already been given extracurricular assignments that I am expected to complete.”

Hermione’s face slowly morphed into a look of surprised horror and grief. Death Eater missions. Assignments from Voldemort already?

His face contorted into a grimace as if he were in pain at seeing her reaction. “I cannot continue to associate with you under conditions, Hermione.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to approve of your involvement!” She cried.

“NO! No, I just ask that you… let it be for now.” Severus ended in a quiet, low tone.

“Let it be? Let it be?! How could I-”

“Just give me an opportunity without forcing me to be something I’m not! Give me the chance to be wanted for myself without any expectations or- or conditions and- and- fuck! Who knows, I just might…arrgh!”

He turned away from her, breathing heavily, overcome by feeling.

“Severus,” Hermione breathed. “Yes, yes of course. I… I would have done anyway.”

“Would you really? I am still indebted to you, and you ask nothing of me?” Severus spat bitterly.

“God, you Slytherins and your bizarre debtor system!” She barked out a frustrated laugh, half of relief. “Can I ask something of you just because, without there being any debt between us? Ask something because I’m your friend and I hope you’re mine as well and friends occasionally do things for each other? At least to make this easier for me to- to let it be?”

He turned back to her, with a questioning look.

Hermione sighed. “And if you do this, I will let it be… for now.” Her tone let him know that it was a great sacrifice for Hermione to let anything be.

Severus slowly relaxed.

“Thank you,” he said warmly, pulling her to him. She found herself in a polite and chaste hug, as her heart beat rapidly, traitorously wishing it was a very impolite and impure hug.

“Ask.” His chest rumbled.

“My friends. Protect my friends from harm.”

“I cannot.” He huffed and half-chuckled, reminiscent of his older self in his self-assuredness. He played with a stray curl on her head that was tucked under his chin. “You are a butterfly who is friends with all the flowers. Be specific if you wish to hold me to something.”

Hermione bit her lip, determined to pick something she could force him to follow through on.

As much as she cared for them, the girls were not important enough to ask him to protect. Plus, she suspected they would get involved in the war against Voldemort no matter the warnings and do a good job of taking care of themselves.

Lily, though. Should she ask for Lily?

No, Hermione thought. No, Severus still cares for Lily. He has always cared for Lily, and he would never intentionally let harm come to her. That is why you're here to begin with! Save your request for someone else.

Who would he harm intentionally though? I don’t care about Pettigrew. If time is inalterable then Remus and Sirius survive this first war…

“James Potter,” Hermione whispered. “Keep him from harm.” He needs to live long enough to marry Lily and for them to have Harry.

She felt Severus stiffen and he pulled back away from her. When she looked up at him, he had an unreadable expression on his face.

“Why?” He hissed incredulously.

“He’s suffered enough, don’t you think?” Severus’ face remained unchanged. This was not a good enough explanation, apparently.

Hermione sighed again. “I want to keep you out of trouble too, you know.” She fingered a stray curl, twisting it. “I picked someone I thought you’d try to harm and might regret later.”

He stepped back to her, meeting her amber eyes with his black ones. “Then, I swear it. I will defend myself if he attacks, but I will not otherwise let… Potter come to harm.”

Hermione smiled up at him. “Thank you. That does set my mind at ease, a bit.”

They spent a few moments staring at each other. The air seemed to shift only slightly, but it was not awkwardness that remained when they found themselves still huddled close and looking intently at each other.

Hermione found her eyes darting nervously back and forth between his eyes and his lips.

“Why Perri,” Severus purred. “How worried were you? Do you imagine me the sort to get myself in trouble?”

Hermione blushed. “You know you are, Snape! You’re nothing but trouble!”

“Indeed, I am,” he replied in a low tone, eyes dark and shining.

He lifted a hand and brought it to her face, brushing away another stray curl that was obscuring her cheek. Hermione had to keep herself from shuddering in pleasure as he tucked it behind her ear.

No! This isn’t the time for flirting. We’ve made progress here and I want to keep it!

“Well!” Hermione blurted, jumping away, red as a tomato. “I’ve kept you from your training as usual. You better get on before you miss breakfast.”

“I will see you later.” Severus purred in a low tone. “We still have more to… discuss.”

Hermione nodded rapidly as she turned away. She couldn’t look back now, not even to see whether she was mistaken about seeing the bulge in his trousers.

Hermione’s giddiness allowed her heightened senses to notice every opportunity that came to her. In Charms class, she finally struck when the students were divided into pairs to practice their wand work.

“Callie,” she whispered. Calliope jumped, having been lost in thought. Hermione indicated to Professor Flitwick that she had found her partner and practically dragged the dark-haired girl to the corner of the room.

“What is it, Anna?” Callie said nervously, pushing her glasses back up her face.

Hermione did not answer immediately, having become an expert at completing classwork through whispered conversations with Ron and Harry. She did a few wand waves in the air to show her summoning work. When she glared at Callie, the Ravenclaw did likewise. Hermione suspected she was unfamiliar with balancing multiple tasks.

“Why have you been telling people I’m spying on Snape?” Hermione whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Now everyone expects me to bring back information on him! I don’t want to get involved in this rivalry between him and Potter.”

“Really?” Callie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a Gryffindor, I expected you wanted to be involved in everything.”

Hermione glared at her again and waved her wand fluidly. She might be able to pull a successful hex under Flitwick’s nose if Callie pissed her off.

“I thought I was helping,” Callie whispered. “It’s the only thing that makes sense to allow you to see him, isn’t it?”

“You’ve been doing a lot of help lately, haven’t you?” Hermione said between gritted teeth. “With Popov, stepping in to help and then lying so easily to Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey. You never told me what really happened to Snape's arm, too. You know him better than you let on, don’t you?”

Callie’s face contorted into a snarl. “What is that supposed to mean, Perri?” She waved her wand in ferocious jerks with her left hand and Hermione was reminded of just how successful Callie had been at stepping in against Popov.

“Tell me what a consort is, Cohen. Is that how you know Snape?”

Calliope blanched, the mean look dropping quickly off her face. “I am not a consort! Don’t go telling anyone that I am, it could ruin my reputation!”

Ah ha. Got you.

“The Slytherins say Snape has two consorts. They think I’m one of them, but I’ll bet all my galleons that you’re thought to be the other. Tell me what a consort is, Callie.”

Hermione was pretty sure she knew already, and she would get truly vicious if the Ravenclaw was actually Severus’ consort.

Callie’s eyes darted back and forth, to ensure no one was listening and she continued with her wand movements to hide her speech.

“It’s a pureblood custom,” she whispered. “There’s a lot of blood magic in virginity, so it’s expected that a bride and groom will be virgins on their wedding day in order to unite both houses with the greatest elemental magic. It’s supposed to strengthen the purity of the line and aid fertility as well. Consorts are… the Slytherin way around this.”

“A way to sleep around and claim to be a virgin?”

“No, consorts are supposed to help keep them virgins…” Callie’s pale face was flushing pink as she looked away, pretending to be focused on her wand movements.

“You’re going to have to spell it out for me,” Hermione said flatly, taking a perverse sort of pleasure in Callie’s embarrassment.

“Consorts are supposed to do everything but… you know. A way to relieve and indulge sexual tension without… without technically…”

“Everything but what?” Hermione said, playing dumb. Callie turned pinker and tried to play it off as being out of breath.

“Everything but the traditional way of… bloody hell. Everything but penetration.”

“There are a few different ways of penetrating-”

“Anything that won’t spill Virgin’s Blood!” Callie hissed. “So obviously, consorts tend to be female as it’s the males that go looking for one, and it’s preferable that they wouldn’t be in the same circle you’re looking for a spouse in…”

“So, consorts are most likely to be female and not in Slytherin,” Hermione finished. She frowned, thinking about it. “Is this why the other Slytherins don’t care about Snape spending time with me?”

Callie shrugged, appearing relieved that she didn’t have to explain further. “Probably.” Hermione sent her a suspicious look and she protested again. “I’m really not a consort! I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Whoever you heard it from, they’re mistaken.”

“I just know that you’re more familiar with Snape than you let on,” Hermione said. “Are you friends? Did you used to be close, like he was with Lily?”

“Pfft. No. Nothing of the sort.” Callie paused with the faux practice movements to push her glasses up her nose. “I just try to stay on polite terms with everyone, even the Slytherins. You might have noticed I don’t shun all blood purists like the Gryffindors do. Whether you’re spending time with Snape in order to get information from him or not, it’s a smart idea to gather as much intel as possible. If he misunderstood my manners as some sort of interest in consorting… that’s on him.”

“Fine,” Hermione bit out, still a bit grumpy. She didn’t want to believe Callie’s assessment of Severus, but she knew he was prone to loneliness and misinterpreting things. She tried the best she could to bat down the jealous temptation of tearing the other girl’s eyes out.

“Now Anna, your turn.” Callie had a mischievous glint in her eye. “I told you what a consort is, now you tell me what you’ve learned from Snape about the Death Eaters.”

“I haven’t learned anything.”

“Not yet, but you might. Come to me first when you learn something.”

“And don’t tell anyone else? Lily wouldn’t be pleased with that.”

Callie’s eyes grew wide and innocent. “Of course not! Just give me a head start, that’s all. Come to me first when you learn something new from Snape or the other Slytherins and give me some time before you tell anyone else.” She paused before meeting Hermione’s eyes determinedly. “Remember, I have the ability to disseminate facts quickly. You wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstandings about your meetings with Snape.”

“You- you!” Hermione sputtered.

She cottoned onto the threat immediately. Calliope would spread a rumour around the friend group regardless of its veracity, and she would have to answer for it and defend Severus… and perhaps herself as well.

“How would you know if I reported everything to you or not?” Hermione sneered. “Do you have other sources?”

Callie quirked an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a thin line. “I would probably find out eventually.”

Hermione quickly schooled her face to a less angry expression as Professor Flitwick walked around the room, observing the groups.

“Fine,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth to her friend who was on her way to becoming a former friend. “I’ll tell you if I learn anything about the Death Eaters.”

Better to say yes than say no. She might toss Callie a bone every once in a while, to keep the pressure off Severus.

After classes ended, Severus returned to his room to read for a bit before dinner.

Mulciber smirked at him and pointed to a note by his bed. “You know where that’s from,” he said, grinning. Severus narrowed his eyes, but after checking it thoroughly he found it was spelled with a communication quill for his eyes only. No one had read it.

The note said:

You are perfectly positioned. Use the friendship with Perri to access prominent families for funding and recruitment.

Pureblood lines desired: Black, Cook, Potter.

Half-bloods: Dalton has a foot in the ministry and may prove useful; Do what you will with Perri, she is unknown in Britain.

The Mudblood Evans is highly intelligent and may be used for breeding if proven submissive.

Pay no attention to others. The assignments among recruits will vary.

As soon as he finished reading, the parchment in his hand was engulfed in blue flame, quickly self-disintegrating.

Severus leaned back on the pillows, contemplating the handler’s message. He was being encouraged to continue the connection with Hermione, something he had already planned on doing.

A large bubble of pride and elation filled his chest. He could have the power and glory offered by the Death Eaters as well as the witch.

Screw Lily Evans, who could never have accepted his affinity for the dark arts. Hermione understood that, at least. Even if the activism bothered her.

The bubble in his chest began to slowly lose air.

On the other hand…

He had a bad taste in his mouth that the name Perri was mentioned at all. Yes, good that the handler approves, but… better if she were disregarded altogether. Severus didn’t believe it could be good that she was considered to be involved.

Hermione’s good luck continued that day, and she was able to catch the other girls for a rare moment without Calliope, who had been roped into helping Professor Flitwick with an extra credit Charms project. Guess she was a little too fervent with that wand waving today, Hermione thought, smirking.

“Going alright?” She said genially as she climbed into a seat next to the others in the stands. Lily, Marina, Arabella, and Elpida were sitting together in the Quidditch stadium, huddled in warm cloaks and scarves.

The others nodded, captivated by the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice taking place before them. The Ravenclaw team was waiting to go on afterward for their own practice, so Ellie was able to sit with the other girls and watch.

“James is overworking himself,” Lily said quietly. “He’s been throwing himself into Quidditch and he’ll play till he drops. Mark my words, Ellie, he won’t want to leave the pitch for your team to train.”

“Oh… we…” Elpida looked guilty. “We agreed to have a short scrimmage before they leave and we take over. Just a quick practice run of our teams together.”

“Damn him, course he figured out a way to practice longer,” Lily sighed. She didn’t look as angry as her words made her sound. “I know he’s just trying to avoid thinking about his family.”

Arabella reached over and rubbed Lily’s back soothingly. “You don’t have to be his sole support, Lily. It’s weighing on you too much, you’ve been distracted.”

“Hasn’t she!” Marina chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Professor McGonagall looked like she might keel over in shock when you said you’d just forgotten to do her assignment.”

Hermione’s head jerked up in attention and she felt that Ellie had noticed the issue as well. “Have you been feeling alright, Lily?” Hermione asked carefully, trying not to show how worried she truly was. Have you forgotten the entire reason you’re in the past?! You haven’t been protecting Lily! What if someone slipped her something?!

“I’m fine! It just slipped my mind, that’s all. I’ve been worried about James, and it’s been hard to sleep…” Lily trailed off.

“We’ve all been affected,” Ellie said somberly. Her eyes darted to Hermione quickly then back again. “Let us know if you’re having trouble and we can help.” Hermione grinned at her. Ellie would be on the lookout for anything odd with Lily too.

Arabella smiled kindly and the healing gene in the family came out in her comforting manner. “Even just talking helps, Lily. Even the boys are hurting right now, it isn’t a sign of weakness.”

“Yes! Remus is worried about his parents, I know. Peter has been trying to convince his parents to go into hiding, but they won’t acknowledge it’s getting more dangerous.” Marina said, turning a bit pink and wringing her hands to warm them up from the wind.

“How are you making out with Snape, Anna?” Lily said, turning to Hermione. “Have you found anything out?”

The girls all turned to her.

Hermione paused for a minute, remembering her extorted promise to Callie before shaking her head. “He’s been avoiding me, remember?” Not a lie. We only made up this morning.

Lily nodded sharply like a general receiving reports from her troops before turning back to watch the game. Her dark red hair billowed behind her in the wind. “Callie has family in the ministry. She wasn’t able to say exactly what her uncle does, but I think he’s an undercover Auror. She can get a message through to the ministry quickly, so you should talk to her first if you find out anything urgent.”

“How do you know?” Hermione asked, frowning. The more she could find out about what Callie was up to, the better.

“Because I got a message to my family through her contacts after what happened to the Potters. My parents are going to sell their house in Cokeworth so they can get away. Even my sister seems to have taken the message seriously. She’s going to move in with her fiancé even though the wedding isn’t till summer. Somewhere in Surrey, I think.” Lily sighed and looked up at the sky, eyes on a James who was fiercely zipping back and forth in the air.

This is why Callie wanted information first, Hermione thought. She wanted to pass it on quickly to a contact in the ministry.

Hermione couldn’t help but be reminded of another Ravenclaw who was far too curious for her own good and enjoyed passing on information. Hermione probably couldn’t scrawl the word “SNEAK” on Calliope’s face without being traced as a time-traveler.

“All the danger, uncertainty, it makes you just want to- to- I don’t know! Take advantage of life, doesn’t it?” Marina said, jolting Hermione out of her thoughts. “Go off traveling or- or start a romance! Some sort of adventure just to make sure you don’t miss out. Before it’s too late. Life can be… it can be shorter than you think.”

“Yeah,” Lily said, still looking up at the sky and watching the players. “I know.”

“Gods, sorry,” Hermione whispered as she arrived in the library.

Severus had been there for a few hours already, as indicated by the state of the table. He looked up and put down his quill as she dumped her bag on the table and started unloading her books.

“Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had a practice scrimmage, so I had to be there,” she explained as she caught her breath. “I gave my excuses after and no one wanted to be in the library for such a short time anyway, so I thought we’d be fine.”

After unloading her books, Hermione made to sit down but quickly jumped up when she felt Snape behind her.

As she had been blabbering, he had gotten up and around the table. She turned around and looked at him questioningly.

Severus said nothing, only grabbed her hand and all but dragged her to a secluded alcove between two long stacks. The alcove was hidden just at the end of the row, which turned a sharp corner for a few feet at the end. It made it impossible for anyone in the library to see them unless they walked completely down the aisle of books.

“This is your hiding spot!” Hermione exclaimed. “I knew you were staying here after hours!”

She turned around to face him, grinning.

Then she realized they were stuck together in a small alcove, perfectly hidden away. She had somehow ended up backed against the wall, with Severus blocking the alcove entrance. The warning bell for curfew chimed in a muffled echo and they heard the distant sounds of Madam Pince shooing students out.

Hermione’s smile fell and she nervously bit her lip as she looked up at him. Severus made no move to let her out. They must have stood there watching each other for another long minute or two, because they heard the library doors close with a loud, echoing thud.

They were completely alone.

Severus was staring her down with his darkest look, his hair hanging down and framing his face. She found her heart was beating too quickly to interpret his expression.

“What are we doing, Hermione?” He mumbled in that effortless, velvety voice.

“It- it appears we’re in the library,” she whispered, trying and failing to be cheeky. She felt her face quickly burn as she turned red.

“No,” he drawled smoothly. “What are we doing? What is…this between us?”

“I don’t know.” She recovered quickly and glared at him, trying to channel her adrenaline into anger. “Am I a consort? Are you just priming me to be one?”

“What?” Severus was taken aback. “No!”

“That’s what they all think about me. Mulciber, Rosier-”

“They’re wrong! I- I don’t see you that way-”

“But you allow them to think that. Why else is a Slytherin allowed to associate with a Gryffindor?” Hermione’s tone was accusatory, but she was hurt, mostly. She had to know. Severus was still in love with Lily, wasn’t he? Was he just trying to use her for sexual release like any other Slytherin would?

Severus narrowed his eyes and glared back at her. “I might ask you the same thing. Why is a Gryffindor allowed to associate with a Slytherin?”

Hermione tried to hold her glare but faltered, feeling guilty. She didn’t want to deceive him, not when they were trusting each other. “They- they think I’m using you to get information on your… political activities.”

Severus’ glare didn’t abate. “That is all?”

Hermione frowned. “What do you mean, ‘that is all’?”

He huffed and ducked his head.

“I haven’t been!” Hermione said, mouth open in consternation and hurt. “I genuinely like spending time with you, I have from the start! If the girls think that’s what I’m up to and it gives me the go-ahead to be around you then- then let them think that!”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been giving them anything useful?” He looked back at her and cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

“I suppose I’ll have to come up with something soon.”

Severus relaxed. “Likewise for me,” he admitted. “If the other Slytherins believe you to be my consort… there is no stigma in frequent association.” He looked at her, this glance infuriatingly unreadable.

“Right, well. Oh- Okay.” Hermione was getting flustered again. She didn’t want to be a Slytherin consort, a common whore, but a dalliance with Severus…

“What are you thinking, Hermione?” Severus said quietly. “Let’s not leave anything else unsaid.”

“Do you have a consort, then?” She blurted out.

“No,” he answered firmly.

“Have you ever had a consort?” She had asked this out of jealousy, she knew it. There was Lily, potentially, and Calliope as well. Maybe there was some muggle girl over the summer or… damn, she was being ridiculous. She flushed in embarrassment.

Severus kept giving her the imperceptible, appraising look. His black hair framed his face regally and she studied his dark eyelashes and his roman nose. Hermione felt her chest tighten and release in fear or pain or heartache, she wasn’t sure which.

As he remained silent, she realized her stupidity at asking the question. If he was trying to be a traditional Slytherin and fit in with the purebloods, he would only have needed a consort to retain a virginal status. If he had never had one… he would still be a virgin? Or have already lost his virginity?

Was he insulted? Did he think she was questioning his manhood?

“No,” he said finally. “I am curious as to why you would ask, Hermione.”

Hermione turned as red as she could. “I- because-” She huffed in frustrated embarrassment. “Don’t you know curiosity killed the cat, Snape?”

Severus had a look on his face like a panther about to pounce. “And satisfaction brought it back.”

His eyes flashed darkly, and he raised his long-fingered hand to her face. Gently, he brushed a few fallen strands of hair away from her cheek. Hermione’s lips parted slightly in a breathless gasp when his hand tucked her hair back and he stepped closer to her. She swallowed.

Instead of removing his hand, he placed it on her cheek, gently tilting her face up. Her eyes gazed into his dark ocean irises, traitorously darting down to his lips and back up again.

“Tell me I’m a sadistic scumbag,” he muttered softly.

“Absolutely,” Hermione said. Her amber eyes shone up at him, filling with desire.

She had longed for him for months. This him, the older him… everything.

“Tell me to leave.” Severus’ face came closer, and his other hand was on the other side of her face now.

“You should leave, it’s past curfew. We should both leave.”

Breathe in, breathe out, don’t forget to breathe, don’t pass out.

“Tell me I’m your friend.”

He shifted closer, continuing to cup her face with his hands. He smelled like the grass from the Quidditch pitch, the warmth of parchment and mahogany from the library.

“You are, Severus. You’re my- my best friend.” Hermione stammered, failing to still her breathing. The touch of his hands on her face made it more difficult.

“Tell me… tell me I could only ever be your friend. Nothing more, never anything more.” His voice rumbled in a pitch that made her shiver slightly.

Hermione could not answer now. He was too close for her to hide her reaction.

She saw Severus’ eyes widen, pupils dilate, and a slow smirk begin to form on his face. It was close to a feral grin.

A few centimeters more and she could press both upper and lower body against him. Hermione could have sobbed with need if only she could catch her breath long enough. If only her heart would stop pounding in her ears.

He moved his face to the side of her head, speaking directly into her ear as he cupped her face. She whimpered.

“Tell me,” he purred.

“Not to,” his thumbs stroked each side of her mouth.

“Kiss you,” he hissed.

She felt him pull back to stare directly at her as he waited for her to choke out an answer.

“Never.” She croaked hoarsely. “Sev-”

But his mouth was already upon hers, his two hands cupping the sides of her face and his lips firmly pressing against hers. She felt herself half laughing in delighted surprise and relief and him kissing her through the smile and sound, as she raised her hands to his shoulders, then his neck and he continued to half pull away for a millisecond before tilting his head and crashing back to her lips again. He would retreat far enough to look at her, but seemingly had no patience to be parted from a kiss long enough to do so.

She couldn’t breathe. Her heart felt like it was exploding inside of her and the ringing in her ears engulfed her in kisses. She was drowning in the sensation of being kissed, the air pressing against her, but she felt simultaneously like she was weightless and floating.

Her first kiss with Professor Snape had been wonderful, intoxicating, but it was nothing like this. She had caught him by surprise then and he had immediately gone on the attack and pressed her down on the bed, as if they had instantly skipped several steps of kissing and courtship. It had surprised her how it had happened as well, but nothing like this.

Now, with this Severus… this was a first kiss.

There was innocent shyness as he retreated after a few breathless lip touches, but vulnerability, possessiveness, and need, as his mouth immediately came back to hers. As if she was the air for a drowning man, though she was struggling to catch her breathe herself. His thin lips moved deftly against hers, as graceful as the rest of his form. She struggled to keep up with his lead as he moved rapidly against her returned kisses.

Hermione stroked her fingers through his hair as they kissed, gasping for breath. She felt him press her against the wall behind her.

There were tiny gasps and whimpers that escaped her throat as they desperately kissed each other while he breathed raspily. Severus had the same low, rumbling purr that echoed through his chest, sending panging aches to her lower abdomen. She felt like she would cry or faint or burn up completely, there was such a relief to her longing.

Hermione’s vision began to feel compromised when he experimented with nipping and sucking her lips between his. The pool of desire between her legs grew wetter and hotter. She feared her knees would buckle, and her logical side fought to take control. She returned a few feeble sucks and licks herself before slowing the kiss and turning her head away to catch her breath.

As much as she wanted this to continue…

Hermione felt Severus’ hands drop from her face. She kept her hands encircling his neck, half-afraid she would fall if she wasn’t holding on to him.

Gods, should they talk about this or something?

She didn’t want words to ruin it. They should keep going. They should keep kissing before she talked herself out of it.

She glanced back at him.

Severus had stepped back as far as he could with her still holding to him. He also had to catch his breath, doing so through his slightly parted mouth rather than his larger-than-average nose.

Severus looked incredible. Hermione felt again like she would burn away completely when she saw the look he gave her. Viewing his kiss swollen lips, black brimming eyes, and flyaway hair sent further pangs of desire through her.

Hermione was wise enough not to say anything yet. If she tried, it would probably be “don’t stop” or “I love you”, both equally dangerous.

“Be my girlfriend,” Severus said roughly. “Let everyone think what they want. With me, with us… let it be different.”

The weight in her chest plummeted into her stomach, sizzling and leaving her with a sour taste in her mouth.

What had she been thinking? It didn’t matter what she felt for Severus. She didn’t belong in this time.

Plus, he needed to be in love with Lily Evans in 20 years! Didn’t he? She had to keep him for Lily.

“I- I can’t,” she whispered. “I want to… but I can’t.”

Chapter Text

From last chapter:

Severus had stepped back as far as he could with her still holding to him. He also had to catch his breath, doing so through his slightly parted mouth rather than his larger-than-average nose. 

Severus looked incredible. Hermione felt again like she would burn away completely when she saw the look he gave her. Viewing his kiss swollen lips, black brimming eyes, and flyaway hair sent further pangs of desire through her. 

Hermione was wise enough not to say anything yet. If she tried, it would probably be “don’t stop” or “I love you”, both equally dangerous. 

“Be my girlfriend,” Severus said roughly. “Let everyone think what they want. With me, with us… let it be different.”

The weight in her chest plummeted into her stomach, sizzling and leaving her with a sour taste in her mouth. 

What had she been thinking? It didn’t matter what she felt for Severus. She didn’t belong in this time. 

Plus, he needed to be in love with Lily Evans in 20 years! Didn’t he? She had to keep him for Lily. 

“I- I can’t,” she whispered. “I want to… but I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Severus said, his heart slowly sinking down like a stone in water. He kept his face still and unchanged. “No, Hermione. No, you promised me you would let it be.”

“Wh- what?” Hermione’s eyes were wide, almost pleading and desperate.

“You promised me you would let my future obligations be for now! What other obstacle could there be between us?”

Her arms were still wrapped around his neck, and she wore her feelings on her face. Sadness, pain, and… guilt.

Realizing, Severus’ eyes widened, and the stone sank completely. He tried to keep himself from deflating before her. 

No! Not again! Fucking shite, not again! 

“There is another.” He said quietly, sure of what the guilt on her face meant. Severus swung his hair forward slightly to be prepared to hide behind it. 

“No!” She protested, but her face faltered slightly. “No- not…” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “There was another,” she clarified. Hermione opened her eyes, meeting his. “Nothing ever came of it, of my feelings for him.”

“Yet you still feel something,” Severus said flatly.

Hermione bit her lip again and looked away. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I do.” 

“And this is why you cannot be my girlfriend?” Severus forced himself to keep his voice calm and level. He had to keep his voice from becoming raw with pain.

“It… it wouldn’t be fair to you,” she said in a small voice, still looking away. 

“Then you say I have no hope?” He scowled, his volume rising desperately. “No hope of competing with a man who does not return your affection when I would be completely devoted-”

Hermione’s head whipped back to him just as he was growing heated. “Quite the opposite, Severus! You misunderstand me! It’s not that you have no hope, it’s that you have far too much hope…” She swallowed thickly as Severus moved closer into her embrace. “I cannot agree to it! I cannot agree to- to falling and hurting and being hurt-” 

“Hermione,” Severus exhaled, heart rising quickly out of his chest again in elation.

Convince her, do whatever you can!

He grabbed her face in each hand again, eyes dark, wide, and insistent. “Fall. Fall and let me catch you.”

“Severus…” Hermione said. Her eyes shone with desire and accompanying hesitancy. 

“I beg of you,” He growled, cupping her face. “Allow me this chance.”

She had not even enough time to nod her head fully before he kissed her languidly and sweetly, determined to kiss her into agreement. He held her face gently as if he might break her. He entreated her softly with his lips, again and again, resolved to wear her down like waves crashing against the eroding rocks. After a few long and lazy sucks, he lowered his hands away from her face and turned his head at a better angle to strengthen his kisses. She was melting into him now.

Severus placed his hands firmly on her hips, grasping a little tightly in his excitement. She fisted her hands in his hanging hair, which he took as encouragement to speed up and press her back against the wall as he had before. Hermione gasped. 

It was the most intoxicating feeling to kiss her when she kissed him back so eagerly. Heat rushed through his entire body, warming away the icy dread that had been there only a few moments before. He was kissing a beautiful, willing witch. 

She wants me. She wants ME!

God, all his masturbatory fantasies didn’t compare to actual touch, actual feel, actual Hermione with her wild hair and sweat and kisses and honey musky smell. 

Hermione struggled to speak between frantic kisses. “Oh, Severus… mmph… we…uh…we should…” 

She was too tempting. She couldn’t kiss him like this and not expect him to try his luck. 

He stood so his trousers were flush against her, the heat that had spread to his groin and was urging him onward all too apparent. “Oh no Hermione… ahhh… allow me to… ohh… press my advantage…”

Severus knew she must feel something pressing into her and he paused to see her reaction. He couldn’t help but grin as she flushed but continued to kiss him and arch into him. When he clutched her hips tighter and thrust against her with his lean, lithe form, she moaned. She fucking moaned. 

He knew he should slow this down, despite his warring call within him to never ever stop even if it meant disrobing in the library. 

He moved his lips fervently against hers, debating on his next move. He had to ensure her answer first. 

“My girlfriend,” he hissed in her ear after abruptly breaking their kiss. Hermione shuddered at the sound of his voice and he smirked, lowering it to heighten the effect. “Though if you insisted on nothing more, I would settle for being your consort…”

Severus chuckled wickedly as she gasped in surprised consternation, turning redder at the mention of consorting. “Girlfriend,” she whispered embarrassedly, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“You are certain? No going back on your word now.”

He held his breath, dark eyes intently waiting for more assurance than she had given. As much as he had wanted to kiss her into submission, his chest would crack in two at the thought of her submitting unwillingly. 

She smiled and continued to blush before shyly meeting his eyes behind some stray frizzy curls. “I would love to be your girlfriend, Severus,” she said with a small smile. “Just… just be patient with me. Don’t promise me anything you don’t mean or you would break…” she hesitated, but must have decided to continue on. “You would break my heart.”

“You do me the highest honour,” he said quite seriously. “I shall not abuse that.”

They gazed intently at each other, and Severus leaned forward and kissed her lightly to seal the promise. He kept the kiss gentle and quite controlled in comparison to the previous ones. When Hermione began to push forward and open her lips for more, he pulled away. 

He breathed in her ear in a low purr, inhaling the sweet smell of her curls as he did so. “I do not make promises lightly. I promise you that you shall have all of my affection, all of my desires. I will take no consort, Hermione, and you will not look for one for yourself. You will allow me to plead my case to your heart and you must forget anyone who came before me.”

You will be mine. You are mine. Never leave me.  

He couldn’t say that. 

Severus nodded and stalked away somewhat abruptly before he lost the little self-control he had remaining. He gathered his books and bag from the library table, feeling Hermione slowly emerge from the stacks from behind his back. He smirked wickedly. Even with his back turned he could tell she was walking a bit unsteadily on her feet. 

He wished he had enough self-resolve to walk away confidently without a glance, but she approached the table before he was gone. Severus swiveled and yanked her into his arms for a quick snog as she gave a delighted squeal. 

He nearly groaned with relief. It was pure bliss, like sinking into a hot bath after a long, aching Quidditch practice. Like the small reprieve of eating dark chocolate when he was so miserable he thought he’d never get out of bed. That was what holding her and kissing her was like. It was comfort, that’s what it was. When did “Severe Arse”, “Snivellus” ever get comfort? How could he leave the room when the source of his comfort was right here, kissing him sweetly and making those eyes at him?

Intoxicating.

It was only supposed to be a quick snog, but his hands started drifting to her blouse and Hermione pulled away. “Now Severus,” she chided sternly, removing his hands. Her eyes were playful, and he knew she wasn’t angry. “Time to go,” she said, smiling. Her face glowed and she looked happy.

He huffed in protest, but reluctantly let her out of his arms. He felt like the most blithering sop when he nearly rushed to her again and insisted they sleep the night in the library, kissing until they fell asleep. He was sure if she agreed to it then would be the best fucking sleep he had ever gotten.

Somehow he made his way out of the library without Hermione. Without his Hermione- his girlfriend! He had a girlfriend!

It was hard to remember that it was after curfew, and he should be quiet instead of grinning and roaring in triumph as he stalked his way down the corridor. He managed to keep himself to a wide smirk and a swift, billowing walk back to the dungeons.

He would be victorious in this battle if he wasn’t in any other. 

The promise of power, control over his circumstances, protection from bodily harm… they all paled in comparison to the promise- no, the mere possibility- of being loved. 

Hermione arrived back quite late, but Marina heard her come in.

“Oh good,” she whispered, so as not to wake her sister or Arabella. “You’re finally back. What did you learn from Snape?”

“I- oh I- nothing. Nothing yet, but… but we’re talking again.”

“Gods, he’s a difficult one to crack, isn’t he?” Marina sulked and lay back on her bed. “I bet if you shagged him, he’d spill all his secrets!” She whispered loudly.

Hermione turned before she gave herself away, even in the dark.

Damn Marina and her damn commentary! It was enough to give Hermione a jolt of reality to remove her from the infatuated haze she had stumbled back to the tower in.

She quickly dressed and put herself to bed, unable to sleep with both sheer happiness and nagging guilt.

She had nearly told him everything, had nearly mentioned Lily. Hermione had tried to keep her resolve, say no to Severus, but it was so much harder than she had imagined. Severus was insistent, was dark and intense, and she hadn’t kissed him in so long… and she wanted to say yes! She wanted him!

If the Severus Snape from her time had begged her to be his girlfriend she would have actually shouted yes. She would have snuck around to see him despite the unsteady line between student and teacher they were crossing.

When someone that intensely devoted wants to have you for themselves, the answer could only be just as firm and unwavering. It would have to be an elated yes or a furious no, and there was nothing in between.

Severus had guessed incorrectly at her hesitance, imagining that there was some other man involved instead of that there was some strange time-travel element and that he would later dedicate his life to an entirely different woman who married someone else and died young. Ironically enough, there was another man involved for Hermione, even if the only difference was twenty years of experience.  

Hermione was not over that older Severus either, even as she fell in love with the younger one. After all, didn’t a growing knowledge of the younger man contribute to the fascinating picture of the elder? What changes would she get to see, what mysteries would finally be answered?

What changes to him or his timeline was she making, if any?

That last question gave her the nagging guilt.

The next few weeks in which November turned into December were a bit of a blur. The wind was biting outside, and frost covered the ground most mornings. In early December, snow began to fall and the grounds were blanketed in white, dusty flakes. The dungeons were especially chilly, which is why Severus rose quite early to head to the Room of Requirement.

Severus had no guards accompany him so early in the morning, which is why Hermione was concerned enough to rise early as well to check on him. This is how they frequently found themselves kissing and disheveled on a long couch in front of a roaring fire, in a room that looked very little like a gym.

Each snogging session started innocently enough, for Severus was chilled thoroughly and Hermione was determined to hug and kiss him back to warmth. After the third time, she started to get wise to the fact that he was perfectly capable of using warming charms, however poorly insulated the dungeons were. She didn’t mention this discovery. He continued to show up with freezing cold skin and fiery eyes and she would tut and kiss him back to a normal body temperature.

When he returned to the normal body temperature, they began to get carried away.

Severus’ frantic kissing was becoming more practiced, and he had figured out the effect his voice had on her, especially if he used endearments. He was trying them all out, determined to figure out which ones fit her. Every morning Hermione would have a fierce snogging and touching session with Severus occasionally whispering, “ah yes, Sweet”, “Darling,” and a few other incoherent things that made her breathless.

It was getting more and more difficult to focus on any of the things she was supposed to be focusing on.

Elpida had snapped at her the other day for spacing out, yet again. “Stop it, Annie,” she hissed. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I- oh…” Hermione sighed deeply. She’d been caught in another daydream recollection of that morning. “I’m sorry Ellie. What was it?”

“I’ve gotten a conditional offer in the Department of Magical Transportation,” Ellie replied with a bit of emotion in her voice. She appeared someone hurt that her friend hadn’t been paying attention. “If you’re interested, I bet I could get you an interview. That is, if you focused more on studying so you could get good N.E.W.T. scores,” she said, chiding her with a slight grin.

Hermione sputtered in response and flushed, dragging the book closer to her and mumbling apologies. Ron and Harry’s mouths would drop just to see how far the tables had turned. Thank God Ellie was at least keeping her on track, or she’d forget her head.

They studied in silence for a few more moments before Ellie spoke again.

“I thought you should know, since you seemed worried about Lily. I think I know one reason she’s been distracted. Lily and James have started dating,” Ellie said quietly. “I wasn’t supposed to know yet, but I went looking for her at an odd time and I stumbled upon… well, you can guess.”

Hermione frowned. “They couldn’t have been doing anything in the corridors.”

“Just snogging,” Ellie said, shrugging. “I was surprised they would since they have their own private suites to do that in.”

Perhaps... perhaps it was too dangerous to snog in the private suites. Hermione realized James Potter’s pureblood ancestry might be enough to keep virginity an important part of his family traditions. To secure the magical bloodline, hadn’t Callie said?

“Perhaps they don’t want to take advantage of it,” Hermione said. “After all, Sirius Black has been implying that they should use the suites for just that purpose…”

Hermione trailed off as she saw the very subject of the conversation approaching. Lily looked in good spirits as she walked briskly toward the library table with Marina and Calliope in tow.

Everyone said a few hellos as the books came out and the quills, ink, and parchment were spread around the large table. Calliope delved quickly into her books, but Marina chatted for a few minutes before they got started. Soon there was only the turning of pages and scratching of quills to be heard when Hermione found her mind wandering back to Severus again, her eyes drifting away from the page of her book.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted Lily fidgeting with her quill. After a few moments, it became clear to her that Lily did not have the upcoming Transfiguration quiz on her mind.

Ellie was better at being blunt. “What is it, Lily?” The tall blonde said, sitting up and looking at her.

“You’ve already spilled the beans, Ellie, haven’t you?” Lily sighed dramatically. “For the record, everyone,” she said, turning and making sure everyone at the table was listening, “James and I are dating. He’s also coming to stay with my family for the winter holidays.”

“I knew it!” Marina shrieked, earning a hissing shush from Madam Pince from across the room.

Calliope gave a small smirk as she pushed her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose. “I surmised as much,” she said smugly.

“What, ugh! So, you all knew?” Lily was a bit disappointed that her news was not as shocking as she had guessed it would be.

“If it’s any consolation,” Hermione said, trying to hold back a smile. “I only just officially found out.”

The next few minutes had the girls distracted from studying by talk of dating, the Slug Club Christmas party, and the winter holidays. Lily would be meeting her sister Petunia’s fiancé for the first time, and she was thinking of bringing James and hoping the two would get along. Calliope would be going to visit her uncle in London, the McKinnon girls would be headed home, and Elpida would be staying behind at Hogwarts. No one even asked Hermione. They knew as a transfer student, she couldn’t go home.

Lily began debating which of her dress robes she should wear to the Slug Club party which changed the topic to that event. Marina, Lily, Elpida, and Hermione were all Slug Club members, so they had invites to the Christmas party. Calliope alone of the group would be left out, they realized.

“Unless you find a member to ask you as a date,” Marina said.

“Hmm, that’s a good point Cal,” Lily said. “I’m sure we can find someone to ask you as a plus one.”

“Mateo Reinero?” Ellie said thoughtfully. Hermione thought she caught a teasing twinkle in her eye.

“Of course not!” Callie said, turning pink. “Wouldn’t want him getting the wrong idea.”

“Someone as just a friend, then?” Hermione said, remembering her mistake in picking Cormac McLaggen as her date. Harry had had the right idea in bringing Luna.

“How about Remus Lupin?” Ellie suggested. “He would be understanding-”

“Oh no no no,” Marina chimed in. “He fancies-” Lily grabbed her arm. “Well, anyway not a good plan, that.”

“How about Snape then, as he’s in Slug Club?” Lily said. A hush came over the group and everyone looked at her. “I think it’s a good idea,” she said, wide-eyed and innocent. “Callie has been polite to the Slytherins and kept good rapport. It allows her to go to the party and… well, maybe she’ll find something out from Snape. You still haven’t made any headway in that, have you, Anna?” Lily finished, raising an eyebrow at Hermione.

She knows.

She can’t know, there’s no way she could know, but somehow she knows. She knows I fancy him, she knows I’m jealous of Callie, and… could she even know we’re dating?

Hermione took a deep breath, subconsciously shifted her occlumency shields around and did her best to appear nonchalant.

“That might be a good plan, Lily,” she said calmly. Ellie narrowed her eyes and glanced quickly between Callie and Hermione.

“However, I have actually made some headway,” she added. The other girls held their breaths and kept rapt attention on Hermione.

How to throw them a bone without telling them anything at all? I’ll have to update Severus as soon as I can.

“Now that we’ve reconciled, he trusts me,” Hermione said carefully. “Unfortunately, he believes in the cause wholeheartedly, but… I don’t think he’s participated in anything yet.”

“But he wants to?” Lily said icily.

“I… Lily, you have to understand-”

“He’s sick. Disgusting. I’m glad I stepped back from him when I could.”

“Don’t write him off,” Hermione protested, though Marina was giving her a suspicious look. “I don’t agree with any of this either, but I’m hoping… I’m hopeful…”

“Are you trying to persuade him to abandon those ideals?” Callie prompted, frowning as if trying to solve a riddle.

“It’s not a matter of persuading,” Hermione said. “He absolutely could not be persuaded if I tried- and I have, believe me, he’s as stubborn as a mule. However, he’s incredibly intelligent. If he… if he saw evidence on his own that this ideology, this movement is evil, then I know he would change his mind.”

“Oh, so he just hasn’t dipped his toe in far enough for your liking yet?” Lily said sarcastically. “Was he involved in the killings of the Potters or not? How much murder has he gotten involved in that should change his mind?”

“He…” Oh God, I hope this isn’t betraying him. I can’t leave it at this! “…okay, let me preface this by saying that I don’t think he’s lying to me… I just think he’s being naïve or misinformed.”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “You’ve been holding something back,” she said, a tone of hurt in her voice.

“No! No, it’s just that it’s a nonanswer, so I didn’t think it worth mentioning. He said the Potters’ deaths were faked or… or at least that it wasn’t the Death Eaters who killed them.”

There was stone silence from the table. Elpida had turned an odd shade of puce which was hard to interpret, Marina’s mouth was wide open in shock, Calliope’s eyes were narrowed behind her glasses, and Lily… Lily had almost no visible facial reaction.

“You’re sure he isn’t stringing you along, Anna?” She said finally. “We could all be playing into his hands. He feeds you false information to give to us and sends us running in circles while the Death Eaters kill off the rest of our families.”

“This is why I never brought it up earlier,” Hermione said, gritting her teeth to keep her temper. “I thought it was nothing important.”

“Well,” Callie said brusquely. “It may be nothing, but…”

“Yes, that’s right.” Lily nodded her head. “You should report it anyway.”

Callie nodded sharply and rose from her chair, collecting her things. “I’ll look for Snape too,” she said quietly. “And I’ll ask if he has a date to the Christmas party.”

Hermione left the library later feeling as if she was absolutely getting strung along, but it wasn’t by Severus.

The next morning, Hermione had worked herself into a worried state while she waited for Severus in the warm Room of Requirement. She had a sinking feeling about the conversation from the day before. She was worried Ellie wouldn’t trust her anymore and feed her intel to help look after Lily, worried Lily would encourage Callie to dig for dirt and worried Callie would be successful at digging for dirt and who knows, maybe Severus would like her better as a date than Hermione…

Or worse, what if he said no when Callie asked for a date and the girls figured out that he was in a relationship and tried to sabotage it? Then she wouldn’t be able to get close to Lily if she wasn’t trusted and she wouldn’t be able to protect her if she-

“Hermione?” Severus had arrived in the room and had probably expected her to be happier to see him instead of wringing her hands and looking distraught. He shut the door quickly behind him. 

“Severus, oh, oh I’m so sorry,” she blubbered.

He quickly strode over to her and gathered her into his arms, sitting her on his lap. She buried her face in his shirt, embarrassed and ashamed. He smelled like cedar and parchment. He hadn’t even bothered to show up cold-skinned.

“Tell me,” he said with a quiet rumble, stroking her hair.

“Please don’t hate me,” she mumbled. “I… oh… I fucked up.”

“I could never hate you,” he said firmly, squeezing her and pulling her closer. “But you must tell me.”

Hermione took a shaky breath and pulled away from his chest to look at him. “I swear to you that I’m not with you… I’m not spending time with you in order to pass information about you to Gryffindors. I’m not using you, Severus. I don’t think I’ve given them any information before, even unintentionally…”

“But you have now,” he finished for her. His black eyes met hers. “We knew you would have to give them something eventually.”

“But I- I wanted to discuss it with you first! I felt… God, I felt like I was betraying you, and they’re all rooting for it. They want me to badmouth you and feed them all this dirt, but… even if I wanted to I couldn’t! You aren’t the way they think that you are. You’re a good man, Severus!”

Severus made a disbelieving huff. “I suppose you mentioned that as well? You told them all about my political aspirations, my associates, and you threw in something about my pure heart too?”

“I didn’t say all that…” Hermione sighed, taking comfort with Severus’ reaction. He seemed more annoyed and curious than he did wronged. “I really tried to say as little as possible. I just said that you trusted me, and you told me you thought the Potters' deaths were faked. Actually, I thought I did pretty well in defending your intentions. I said you believed in the cause, and you wouldn’t be convinced out of it by anything other than hard evidence.”

“And… and you said this to whom?”

“The girls. Lily, Calliope, Elpida, and Marina.” Severus stiffened.

“Fuck, Hermione.” Severus set her on the couch beside him and stood in one fluid motion. He began pacing and walking swiftly around the room. “Tell me exactly what you said.”

“Just about the Potters-”

“No, the other bit. About my intentions.”

“I- I said…” Hermione closed her eyes and screwed up her face as she recalled verbatim. “…‘if he saw evidence on his own that this ideology, this movement is evil, then I know he would change his mind.’ ”

“Shite,” Severus said, putting his hand through his hair nervously.

“What?” Hermione frowned, standing up as well. “What’s wrong with that? It’s true.”

“What’s wrong with that? What a Gryffindor question. It doesn’t matter if it’s true! The walls have ears, Hermione! It’s not just the smug do-gooders we have to convince not to trouble us, it’s the others as well!”

“Oh,” she said, her heart sinking. “You mean…”

“I mean I’m going to be murdered in my sleep if they think I’ll just turn tail as soon as I’m initiated! Plus the fact that I told you about the faked deaths when only those who support the cause would give it a second thought! They’ll know I’ve been actually giving you information, not just consorting.”

“We can trust the girls, though! I mean… we can trust them not to be Death Eaters. That info shouldn’t get back to anyone on your side.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate those on my side. Besides, that cow McKinnon has probably blabbed to all of Gryffindor already.”

“Marina is not a cow!” Hermione glared at Severus, but her angry look quickly dissipated when she saw that he really was frightened.

Then she remembered that Pettigrew was in Gryffindor, would probably hear everything the other Marauders heard from either Lily or Marina, and she had no idea when he became a Death Eater.

“Fuck, you’re right!” Despite the gravity of the situation, he smirked at her outburst. “Not about Marina being a cow.” She chided. “You’re right about the- the fact that I made a mistake.”

She grabbed his hand. “Severus, I’m sorry. I never meant to betray you in any way. We… we’ll figure this out.” She pulled him back down to the couch and settled herself back on his lap once he was sitting. “I have an immediate solution that might work.”

“Oh?” He said, putting his arms back around her and slowly relaxing.

“Take Calliope to the Slug Club Christmas Party.”

“Ah, so you were behind that too? I told her I’d consider it and get back to her.”

Hermione frowned. “You’d consider it when you’re dating me?”

“No one is supposed to know that, darling.” He drawled. “Besides, she pointed out that I owe her one for helping me with Popov.”

“She helped with something else too. What happened with your arm?”

“We discussed it and agreed that it was better to break my arm so that Popov would certainly get expelled and, hopefully, I wouldn’t receive any further consequences.” He said. “The rest of the lie was just to cover the broken arm. It worked too, so you can’t fault her for that.”

“She agreed to that? Why?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“Calliope has a very analytical sense of justice that she saw was necessary to employ. I think she did it far more for your sake than for mine. She wanted justice done for what he did to you, I think.”

Hermione tried to bat down the jealousy and hurt she felt by reaching over and pulling Severus in for a kiss. After a few languid seconds of kissing, she pulled back.

“So, you take her to the party,” Hermione told him matter-of-factly as she snuggled further into his lap, “and you convince her you’re a loyal sadistic Death Eater scumbag and she can relay that to the other girls, so any Death Eater spies who are sticking their nose around can find that out from them.” Hermione sighed. “That would contradict what I just told them, but I suppose it doesn’t matter if the girls think I’m gullible or crazy for believing you.”

“Thank you,” Severus replied, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it in gratitude. “You aren’t gullible, so I appreciate you falling on that sword.”

“What?” Hermione laughed, pulling her hand away. “So, I’m crazy then?”

Severus smirked dangerously, pushing her backward onto the couch. “Only in the best way.”

Soon he had her feeling quite insane with his touches and kisses.

Despite the recent distractions, Hermione did fairly well on her examinations in the two weeks before Christmas break. There were more E’s than there should have been (an E in both Transfiguration and Herbology) but she tried to console herself with the thought that no one would ever believe Hermione Granger to slack off in any subject, and her time-travelling identity would be as safe as it could be.

Now that Lily and James were openly dating, Hermione had kept a watch on Severus. She hadn’t noticed any reaction from him other than occasional glares at James. She knew Severus would keep his word about protecting James, but that didn’t mean it would be easy. Lily and James were holding hands and making eyes at each other and being the quintessential cute and popular couple of the school. James carried Lily’s books and bag to class and Lily gushed about how handsome he looked in his Quidditch robes. Sometimes it was a bit disgusting, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Ron and Lavender, so Hermione shrugged it off.

Truly, Hermione had to keep herself quite often from gushing about Severus. She was more practiced at keeping it to herself, however, as he had once been her Professor. Now it was the same dangerous romance, but the nature of the illicitness had changed somewhat. Privacy and discretion were still called for.

Their private morning sessions were the highlight of her day and it was always hard to leave the Room of Requirement and go to breakfast or even barely make it to breakfast and rush to class. True, they still studied together in the library, but that had become purely study time. They still had some of Mulciber and Rosier’s work to complete and… well… Severus now behaved as if the walls had ears. He shouldn’t have trusted the library as safe to begin with, he told her.

So now, there were only mornings for them as a couple. Not even every morning anymore, as Severus had reluctantly decided that he couldn’t give up workouts entirely. Hermione used the extra time on free mornings to write in her leatherbound journal.

Hermione loved her early mornings with Severus.

One wintry morning in the Room of Requirement, Severus had nearly convinced her to remove her shirt with his sweet whispers and deep rumbling voice. He’d had it halfway unbuttoned, and she was wet below the waist from his wandering hands, dark eyes, and wicked smirks. Hermione was straddling his lap, kissing him as he groaned and pressed her down into him. Her hiked-up uniform skirt left little to the imagination as his long hands occasionally brushed up her thighs.

“Hermione,” he looked up at her, eyes shining with passion. His dark hair was pushed away from his face and his expression was the most open she had ever seen.

It was almost bizarre how, though she was the one astride and partially undressed, his hands almost forcefully holding her against him, she felt the more powerful of the two.

She understood now what he had meant about offering to be her consort. The way he looked on in feral hunger when she shuddered, gasped, tried desperately to hold back a moan, made clear that he reveled in giving her pleasure. She could order him to stop at any time and knew he would, just as she could order him to drop to his knees and lick her til she came on his face.

He would bow and kiss her feet if she told him to, she was sure of it. He would do it all, gladly.

It was both thrilling and terrifying to have this much control over him.

“Severus I- ohh- we should go….mmmuh….Severus!”

He had managed to slip his long hand underneath her blouse, entirely forgoing the need to undo buttons. Hermione gasped as he cupped a breast through the fabric of her bra, the contact affecting him as well. He groaned in pleasure and thrust upwards as she arched into his hand.

“Severus, I’m serious,” she gasped, pulling away from his insistent kisses. “We’ll miss breakfast and I have a class first… ohhhh.”

His natural instincts in cupping her breasts with both hands and circling her hardened nipples with his thumbs had proved most satisfying. Hermione moaned and arched into his hands, forgetting completely what she had just been saying.

“Fuck, Hermione. I need to see you. Show me,” he hissed, looking up at her.

She wasn’t fooled by the demanded wording. If she refused, he would beg for permission.

She nodded, a lump in her throat. Hermione had never thought her breasts were anything to write home about, but the way Severus was looking at her indicated they were worth viewing.

They both exhaled heavily as he removed his hands from her bra-covered breasts and gingerly undid the last few buttons of her blouse. Slowly, he pushed the sleeves down her arms, so she was dressed in only the plain white bra.

She couldn’t even feel insecure about the decided unsexiness of the bra. Severus had his eyes locked on her in an intense gaze of hunger.

She shifted on his lap, suppressing a moan and noticing he did the same. Even through his trousers, his dick had been perfectly placed between her thighs. She might have been able to masturbate herself to completion by rubbing against him and kissing him alone. He certainly wouldn’t mind. She saved the thought for another time.

Slowly, Hermione removed herself from Severus’ lap and stood before him between his widely parted legs.

Just as she reached back to unclasp the bra, the bell rang to dismiss breakfast.

“Shite, I’m late!” She cried, jumping back to grab her clothes as Severus moaned in frustration. She hurriedly threw her blouse on and buttoned it up before throwing a Hogwarts sweater and robe over. She slung her satchel bag over her shoulder, frizzy and dishelved hair poofed out around her.

“What are you waiting for? We’ll be late!”

“And I will be even later. I need a few moments to… compose myself.” He gazed at her heatedly and she couldn’t help but smile and blush in pleasure before hurrying out of the room.

Gryffindor Tower’s portrait hole was along the seventh-floor corridor, so she was careful not to be seen coming out of the room. Unfortunately, the portrait hole opened just as she was hurrying down the staircase.

“Perri!” James Potter appeared behind her. “Wait up, I need to talk to you!”

“I can’t talk now! I’m running late for Herbology!” She cried.

“Oh, don’t fuss,” Potter said, catching up with her. “I’ll be your excuse. Sprout’s completely soft on me since… my parents. Come with me.” He pulled her into an abandoned alcove off the next stairwell.

“Hey! No, I really should-”

“Just listen, Perri.” He brushed his unruly hair away from his face. “Anna. Listen, Anna. I need you to tell me what Snape said about my parents.”

“James…” Hermione said uneasily. “It… I’m sure he was mistaken…”

“Listen! He said the deaths were faked, right?”

“James…” Hermione whispered, eyes wide. “James, I’m… I’m so sorry…”

“No! Listen! I mean it! I got a letter from my great-aunt Adelaide Potter saying she was concerned for my wellbeing, and she would be in touch further over the holidays!”

Hermione’s concerned façade took on a puzzled quality.

“Don’t you see? I don’t have a great-aunt Adelaide! I’m the last of the Potter line, I’ve been told since I was little!”

“James, that doesn’t mean… It could be a trick then, to get your hopes up or let your guard down…”

“No, I’m sure this is my mother, if not both my parents. No one could know my mum loved the name Adelaide for a girl, she told me all the time. If I’d had a sister that would be the name. That or Harriet, but really-” James made a face and shook his head in dislike at the thought of a sister named Harriet. “I’m sure this is my parents letting me know they’re alright. Anna,” he said, turning to her. “Don’t tell anyone what I’ve said, but stay on Snape and see if you can find anything else out.”

Hermione protested, sure he was mistaken, but James wouldn’t hear it and pushed her out the alcove. He escorted her quickly down the rest of the staircases to Herbology, sure to put on a somber face for Professor Sprout and say that Miss Perri had only been distracted by his telling her memories of his parents. Sure enough, Hermione walked away without any detention for being late.

She couldn’t have known that as the two had hurried out of the alcove, Severus had stood on the stoop a staircase above them, watching them hurry away with clenched fists.

Chapter Text

A few mornings later, Severus and Hermione were again in the Room of Requirement together. Severus had not moved to do anything but hold her, so she knew something was coming. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he finally spoke.

“Unfortunately, Hermione,” Severus said, stroking her hair as she curled up against him on the couch, “there must still be some secrets between us.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder, frowning and looking at him. “What do you mean? Why should we have secrets from each other?”

“I cannot tell you about… my obligations, as I’m sure you would be personally compelled to share anything of importance with your friends.”

“That isn’t fair, Severus,” Hermione said, becoming a bit miffed. “I apologized for that. I thought you’d forgiven me.”

“Hermione.” His tone was warning, and he held her hand, meeting her eyes with his dark ones. “I cannot be known to share any information with you unless it is innocuous or untrue.”

“But it doesn’t mean you actually can’t tell me anything!” She protested. “Trust me with what to disclose and what not to! I’ll give them all innocuous and untrue information, then!”

His face was stoic, and she slowly widened her eyes in realization. “They were right, weren’t they?” She said quietly. “You have been feeding me false information.”

“Not false, no,” he said in a low tone. “Yet I have… withheld much.”

“Severus!” Her voice and face showed how hurt she was.

Severus gave her a disbelieving look. “And you would tell me any information I asked for, Hermione? Haven’t you reciprocated in withholding?”

“Any information? I… I suppose… well, it depends on what kind.” Severus rolled his eyes at her deflection but continued the debate.

“I saw James Potter walk you to class the other morning.”

“I didn’t ask him to, but I was grateful he could get me out of detention for being late.”

“In exchange for something?” Severus said innocently.

“In exchange for something? He wanted to talk to me for a minute if that’s what you mean,” she replied hotly.

“And what did you discuss?”

Severus smirked at her when she hesitated, having proven his point about secret information.

It wouldn’t be wise to let him know what James suspects about his parents surviving, would it? Besides… it’s probably nothing anyway. He’s imagining things in his grief.

Hermione still had a sour, frustrated look on her face, but she knew Severus was right. It wasn’t even a matter of intentions. It was about consequences. Hadn’t she unintentionally trusted those she shouldn’t have trusted before? Wouldn’t Severus be fated to work as hard as he could for the Dark Lord to the unintentional detriment of the Potters? She couldn’t tell him everything.

This bothered her a lot. She already was lying and fabricating to cover up the time travel, which made her feel guilty enough as it was.

“Fine, there are some things we can’t talk about,” she relented. “I just… I don’t like the idea of secrets between us.” Hermione sighed. “What sort of relationship is this if we have no trust at all? Even the relationship itself is a secret. Does it even exist if it has none of the hallmarks of a relationship?”

Severus grasped her hand. “Exactly the kind of thinking I want to avoid. We shall set up some boundaries- parameters to what we can ask and what we can rely on the other to aid in.”

“Severus…” Hermione said quietly. “We have to address the sides we find ourselves on-”

“This shall work for now,” he said firmly. “I have no intention of harming you or betraying you and I want the same assurances.”

“Of course!”

“Harm and betrayal can come in many forms, Hermione,” Severus said cryptically. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled her onto his lap on the couch. “You are… my girlfriend. Yet, as far as my housemates are concerned, you are only my consort. As far as your friends are concerned, you are making friendly with me, perhaps flirting with me, in order to get information.” He swallowed. “I understand if… if for appearances’ sake, you would have to…” He trailed off, scowling.

Hermione wrinkled her nose, seeing something was upsetting him. She reached up to him and kissed him gently, cupping his face. As she pulled away, he exhaled deeply.

“If you need to take a date to the Slug Club on Thursday evening, I understand,” he said in a voice that did not sound understanding at all.

Hermione laughed lightly in surprise and Severus glared daggers at her. “What? Oh stop, Severus, I would go with you if I could. I don’t see what you’re so upset about. You’re taking Callie, after all.”

“I told her I would consider it and I discussed it with you first,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I don’t see the proble-”

“You are my girlfriend. If there is some reason you need to flirt with James Potter, I want to know about it first. If he has to talk to you, there are better ways to do it than in an alcove off the stairwell. Those are known for meetings of a particular kind-”

“We certainly weren’t discussing anything like that,” Hermione said, aghast.

“Think of how it looks then,” he countered. “Not just to me, but to anyone who could have seen. You had just come from- from here…”

Ah yes, she probably still looked out of breath and disheveled, and then she exited the alcove with James and could have still looked out of breath and disheveled.

“Nothing happened. I… I do care about James, but more… more in a brotherly sort of way.” That was the best way to explain it for now.

Severus remained silent.

Hermione turned in his lap, lifting her leg over him and straddling him, gripping his shoulders and meeting his eyes intently. “I would never do that to you, Severus. I swear it.”

“You are mine,” he said in a quiet, velvety voice as he moved his hands to her hips. “There is only me.” This was said flatly, but the way his eyes met hers made it still seem like a question.

“Si, Severo mio.” She flushed shyly, eyes meeting his dark ones and darting to his lips.

Severus used his long hands to press her down into his lap, ensuring she wouldn’t wriggle out of the position. Hermione felt herself get redder. She kept her hands on his shoulders, and leaned forward, giving him an optimal view of her breasts. He smirked, arching an eyebrow and shamelessly looking his fill before she pulled his head upward for a kiss. After some heated kissing and muffled groaning on his part, Hermione pulled away.

“And the rest?” She asked, a bit breathlessly.

“The rest?” He rasped, caught off guard.

“You may trust me not to have any sort of relationship… or the appearance of one without your approval,” Hermione rattled off, eyes shining. Her eyes darted from his lips to his eyes to his already mussed hair. “The same for you,” she said firmly, having taken in his passionate look and kiss-swollen lips and becoming more possessive over what was hers. “Now, what about the rest? When should we tell each other…” she trailed off, not knowing how to say what she meant. When should we cross enemy lines? Ignore loyalties for the sake of the other? Betray their own cause to pass information to a lover?

Severus seemed to understand what she was getting at. “If we can explain the immediate problem,” he said slowly, “and the potential solution, then that should be enough for the other party to make a decision.”

Hermione gave him a pointed look. “It probably won’t be.”

“It was enough to know only that I had been exchanging schoolwork for guard duty. You decided to help after that.” He reached up and stroked her arms soothingly.

Hermione’s face still had a hesitant, disbelieving look to it, but Severus pulled her down for a gentle kiss that soon grew more fervent. The sinking feeling in her stomach grew, but she tried to let Severus kiss it away, knowing she should take advantage of her time with him while she had it.

End-of-semester exams and essays were the following week, and Hermione and Severus both performed well. ‘Well’ was strange for Hermione, but all of her academics had been odd in the 70s.

In this time, Hermione felt detached from any intellectual pursuits. It was almost as if she really was becoming another person. She didn’t feel she could work to her full learning potential, becoming oddly disconnected from schoolwork as she’d never been before. Spare time was spent writing less brilliant essays for the Slytherins, focusing on learning intel from the girls instead of studying, and kissing Severus into oblivion. All other energy was devoted to plotting, maneuvering the social ladder, and trying to interpret people’s motives outside of the available evidence.

It made her miss Harry and Ron desperately. Ron was the strategist, Harry the genuine friend. Hermione was just the bookworm. With Severus, she had a fellow intellectual, but… he far surpassed her in strategy. Even in social climbing, he at least understood the Slytherin methods of exchanging favours. She was completely out of her element here.

Defense Against the Dark Arts class was truly just an exercise in examining Karkaroff rather than the material, and Potions was spent trying to walk a delicate line between competent and brilliant. She had been successful so far, as Slughorn had called her Miss Pastor and Miss Parkinson the most recent times he’d noticed her at all.

She had a cursory visit with Dumbledore the last week of term. It was uneventful.

Hermione could tell that the headmaster was stretched thin. If there were Order, school board, and Wizengamot meetings he was attending regularly, it would make sense. There must be much going on with the Order behind the scenes to undermine the Death Eaters that would keep him busy.

As for her reports to him, she was unimpressed. She felt on the one hand that he was too hands-off with his approach to her in certain areas (they spoke very little about Karkaroff, nothing on the Potters’ deaths, or any important events) and far too involved in others (he was quite curious about the students she and Severus associated with and any gossip she had to share).

“Have any of the students taken an interest in working against Voldemort?”

Hermione blinked. It had been a while since she’d actually heard the name. “Yes, of course, most of them- really, all of them apart from the Slytherins- oppose what he stands for.”

“Yes, but… I had the impression that many of the students are not content with mere talk.” He raised an eyebrow.

Hermione cocked her head. “Are you recruiting, sir?”

“Not yet.” Albus Dumbledore smiled knowingly at her. “Those who wish to fight usually present themselves without even being asked. No, I am asking if anyone has moved to do something now. That… that would prove concerning to me.”

Hermione frowned, narrowing her eyes. After a pause, she said finally, “We are still in school, sir. There isn’t much we could do at the moment.”

Dumbledore stared at her, stroking his beard.

Hermione realized that she had the same problem with Dumbledore as she had with Severus. They didn’t quite trust each other enough.

“Your occlumency is quite good,” the headmaster finally replied.

“Enough to fool you, sir?”

“No,” he said. “But enough to keep some things hidden.”

When Hermione arrived at the Room of Requirement the next morning, Severus was already waiting for her. He had jumped up as soon as she entered, half sprinting to the door and picking her up as she shut it. She squealed as he spun her around, a wide grin on his face.

“Wh- what’s this?” She asked with a startled laugh as Severus set her down.

“I’ve had an early Christmas present. Actually, a combined birthday and Christmas present.” Severus’ grin started to fade, and he looked a little nervous, yet he kept talking. “I have been a ward of the school since last April. I have been stuck in limbo- of age in our world, but not yet 18 in the Muggle world and having no parents.”

Hermione nodded. “You couldn’t go home.”

“That’s been solved now. The Muggle authorities have been taken care of and I have the deed to the house. The headmaster has released me as a ward- it was only a few more weeks until my birthday anyway.”

Hermione kept her face neutral but was miffed Dumbledore had told her nothing of it.

Severus lifted his hand and ran it through his loose black hair. “I have never… I have never truly thought of that house as a home, but… it is a place to get away to.”

She smiled gently at him, reaching over to squeeze his free hand. “I’ll miss your company, Severus. You deserve a holiday. I can see you after Christmas.”

“No! No, I…” He swallowed. “Will you come with me?”

“Come… come with you?”

“Spend the holidays with me.” He looked at her earnestly, clearly afraid of rejection for moving too quickly. “The break starts Friday. I would apparate back Thursday night after Slughorn’s party and spend the next day preparing the house. I could pick you up Friday afternoon.”

Lily and James are going away together. I can’t keep an eye on them anyway.

Hermione’s face lit up and she beamed at him. Severus’ eyes widened in pleasure as she nodded enthusiastically. He picked her up and spun her again as she shrieked with laughter.

“You are the best present,” he whispered before kissing her.

The Slug Club party came quickly enough, and it was enough of a déjà vu for Hermione to almost feel back in her own time. The differences in getting ready were drastic, however, as she had a whole gaggle of girlfriends to help her with hair and makeup.

Arabella took great pleasure in brushing Hermione’s hair out so it poofed out almost in semblance of an afro. Hermione insisted on putting in some Sleakeezy’s (“That’s how James’ family got their fortune, you know”), which took a lot of perseverance on her part. “Big hair is all the rage, now Anna!” Arabella chided, and Hermione almost barreled over in giggles at being reminded what decade she was in. In the end, Hermione won out, and the easy soft curls she wore were grudgingly accepted as quite nice by the other girls.

The Marauders had done their own work to buy Peter an invite to the party by linking him up with Marlene, who was a good enough sport to agree to a friendly escort. It became apparent almost immediately, however, that they should have roped her sister Marina into doing the task, as she flirted shamelessly with Pettigrew. She made eyes at him, laughed at his not-funny-at-all comments, and put her hand on his arm enough times to make Hermione gag. This was much worse than James and Lily, she decided.

As soon as she entered with her group, she sought out Severus from across the room. He looked striking and handsome in his dark green dress robes. He had his hair tied back in a queue, emphasizing his sharp jaw and angular cheekbones. His dark eyes flashed appreciatively at her when he spotted her, but he could only spare a brief glance at her for appearances’ sake.

Calliope wore conservatively cut midnight blue dress robes, which complimented Severus’ outfit well. Her petite frame was further emphasized in the clothes, but rather than make her appear childlike, the robes flattered her figure and gave her a sophisticated, delicate look. Their similar dark hair and pale skin made the two a striking couple. Callie was at Severus’ side within a group of Slytherins, making polite small talk with Rosier and Avery. Hermione’s jealousy surged when she saw them together. They looked like the perfect high-society couple.

“Good,” Lily whispered to the other Gryffindor girls when the men had wandered away. She indicated the couple across the room. “Maybe Callie will find something out tonight.” She winked at them before taking Arabella to talk to a few handsome Hufflepuffs.

Marina made a pretense of going to get a plate of food, but Hermione was sure she would find Pettigrew and try to snog him under the mistletoe. This left Hermione standing alone.

She sighed. This was better than beating off McLaggen, she supposed.

“Hey Anna,” Elpida appeared at her side, handing her a drink. “Cheers.” Ellie raised her own glass after handing the one to Hermione. “To the benefits of not bringing a date.”

Hermione laughed and raised her glass in agreement before taking a long sip.

“Everything alright on your end?” she asked the other girl afterward. It had been a few days since they’d spoken. She hoped Ellie wasn’t still sore about her ‘keeping back information’.

“Fine,” Ellie replied. “Classes finished up well for the semester. I’m still on track for my ministry job.” The blonde hesitated a moment before lowering her voice. “I thought we had more of an understanding, Annie. Haven’t I had your back? You can at least be honest with me.”

Then she was still upset about the other day.

“We… I’m sorry.” Hermione whispered back, averting her eyes. “I do feel like I can trust you Ellie, but…”

“But nothing. You can.” Ellie’s stance hardened, reminding Hermione she was a tough Quidditch beater. Bulldog, the players called her.

“You don’t trust Sev- Snape. And I… I care for him,” she whispered even more quietly. “It makes it more difficult.”

“You don’t trust him either, Anna. Even if you care for him.” Ellie replied flatly.

Hermione’s heart clenched. Involuntarily, her eyes sought out Severus. He was still speaking to the Slytherins, Calliope dutifully looking on.

“Annie,” Elpida’s tone softened, and she put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Believe me, you can trust me. With everything. I know all about…” Ellie pulled away and shook her head. “Nevermind- It’s not the time. Enjoy the party.” The taller girl turned to go.

“Wait, Ellie.”

She turned back and waited.

“I’m going with him for the holidays,” Hermione said, biting her lip.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she nodded. “I’ll expect you back in one piece then, or Snape gets it.”

Hermione couldn’t help but shoot her a small smile.

Hermione and Elpida rejoined the Gryffindors. The party meandered on, and everyone laughed loudly and got a bit silly. James and Lily ended up kissing under some enchanted mistletoe, causing Sirius to stand under another bunch and close his eyes, loudly declaring he would take his chances on whoever wanted him. To his shock, Marlene McKinnon stalked over and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, bowling over in laughter when he had nothing to say upon opening his eyes. Hermione was surprised to see him blush and fidget awkwardly around her afterward.

“Sirius is such a flirt,” Arabella commented to Hermione mirthfully, rolling her eyes. “It’s all a game for him, so he doesn’t know what to do when others don’t play it the same way.”

A few professors apart from Slughorn were in attendance, including Flitwick, Hooch, and Karkaroff. After a few drinks, Karkaroff was beginning to sing loudly in a foreign tongue and Slughorn was subtly trying to usher him away. Slughorn was being far too diplomatic, it was made clear, as Karkaroff only grabbed him around the shoulder and swayed, urging Slughorn to join in the song. Finally, Hooch screamed at him to get his ‘big drunken arse to bed’ as the room cheered and laughed. This worked and he wasn’t seen for the rest of the party.

Severus moved to speak to Flitwick on his own as Hermione feigned interest in Marina’s lovesick gushing about Peter. Thankfully, Remus came to stand directly next to her, and she was able to converse with him briefly about a few academic subjects. He smiled at her kindly and she was reminded so much of the Remus Lupin she had known. This in turn gave her a sudden, fierce ache of homesickness for the future- her past.

“Everything alright, Anna?” He asked, seeing her face falter.

“I- I just miss home,” she said honestly. “It’s almost Christmas too.”

“Christmas is a good time to be with loved ones. Do you need somewhere to go for the holidays? If so-”

“Hey, Moony!” Remus winced and reluctantly turned his head to see Sirius gesturing for him to stand under the mistletoe. Remus turned a bright shade of red and wasn’t able to turn back and meet Hermione’s eyes.

“I… that is to say…” He faltered.

Hermione began to get another ill feeling in her stomach that she wasn’t sure was homesickness.

“Actually,” chimed in a voice from her left, “Anna will be coming with me over break.” She turned to see Ellie smiling at her. “Last minute change of plans, actually. My cousin Nadine has offered to let us stay with her.”

Oh, thank goodness, I have an alibi! No one even needs to know I’m with Severus at all!

Remus mumbled a thank you to Ellie’s hospitality to a homeless transfer student, before excusing himself to have a stern, low-voiced conversation with a sighing Sirius.

Hermione thanked Ellie silently with her eyes, while she returned a ‘you-owe-me-one’ glance. There was no time to acknowledge anything further, as James quickly pulled Ellie into a conversation about Quidditch for the next semester.

Hermione found her eyes wandering around the room, not satisfied with the new topic of conversation.

Where is Severus? Where is… Callie?

She did her best performance in keeping her body language calm and not swiveling around frantically.

Even if they are off together somewhere, she reasoned. He’s just convincing her of his Death Eater loyalties. She’s just probing him for information. They’re just playing each other. They wouldn’t… they wouldn’t snog or touch to do that… Severus wouldn’t do that…

After yet another faux languid sweep of the room with her eyes, she finally spotted Calliope speaking to Mateo Reneiro, the other Ravenclaw prefect of their year.

There, she thought, relieved. Now, Severus…

The boys refilled everyone’s punch glasses and brought back new rounds. As James handed Hermione a fresh cup, she saw Severus practically billowing towards the group.

“Don’t drink that,” He snarled at her. “It’s been spiked.”

“Of course it’s been spiked, Snivellus!” Sirius roared. “Lighten up, will you? It’s Christmas time!”

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled. “Lighten up Sever-arse!”

Marina and James joined in laughing, but Arabella shrieked.

“He’s right!” She cried. “Smell it, don’t drink!”

Hermione frowned and sniffed her glass. Earthy warmth and lush green grass, crisp and crinkly parchment, mint and sage-

“Amortentia,” she said quietly.

Severus nodded sharply before quickly moving over to Professor Slughorn.

The next half an hour involved corralling the students, giving everyone an antidote, and beginning a paltry attempt at interrogation by encouraging the culprit to come forward. Dumbledore and McGonagall were there to witness, and neither looked pleased. Slughorn, Hooch, and Flitwick were all far too tipsy themselves to lend credence to there having been any legitimate chaperoning.

Finally, the partygoers trudged off to bed. She caught Severus’ eyes for a brief moment on their way out and nearly shivered.

Yes, she thought, a warm glow spreading throughout her body. Tomorrow.

A few minutes earlier…

Severus had just finished speaking to Professor Flitwick about charm-enhanced potions before he noticed an important absence from the party. He silently slipped out into the corridor.

Pausing momentarily, he took out his wand before turning to his right. He opened the first classroom door to his left with a bang.

The tableau he found in the room was frozen in perfect horror.

A taller figure had been mid-moan, mid-thrust, head arched back, trousers at his ankles, and holding the head of another figure at waist level.

“Mr. Snape! No… no no no no….” The taller figure removed his hands from the head of the kneeling one and frantically pulled up his trousers. “You saw nothing! You- fuck!”

“Calm down, Igoryok,” The kneeling figure scoffed, wiping their mouth on their sleeve, rising from the knees, and brushing dirt off their robes.

Severus laughed as he flicked the door closed and locked it with his wand. “So, this was your assignment? I suppose I should count myself lucky.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t an assignment… per se. Igoryok knows I appreciate him on my own.”

Severus shook his head disbelievingly, still wearing a wide smirk as the man who had been moaning in pleasure a few moments earlier now moaned in frightened realization on the floor, head in his hands.

“And how do you propose to keep me quiet about this?” Severus asked calmly, arching an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? I don’t care.”

“Not from telling the other initiates. From telling the school. I am a highly concerned student, after all…”

The figure hesitated.

“Easy solution. Leave Perri alone,” Severus said. “Leave Perri and I alone, and don’t worry about anything you may overhear.”

“So, it is true,” the other said slowly. “You plan to turn her to our cause.”

“I do,” Severus said firmly. “And I appreciate your assistance in promoting the match to the Dark Lord. As the Hogwarts handler, you will have some sway.”

After a few beats, the reply came. “Well, if it works out, I’m happy for you, though I sincerely have my doubts.”

Severus scoffed, eyes darting between the other two, as if to say ‘and I don’t have my own doubts?’ He turned fully to the blubbering man on the floor. “As for you, Professor, you still have to buy my silence.”

The dark-haired man looked up in terror, clearly too drunk to protest.

“I’ll be wanting that Firebird feather of yours.” He grinned in triumph. “Hand it over in exchange for a wand oath of secrecy.” The other man hung his head in shame and reluctantly reached into the inner pocket of his robes.

The handler spoke then, hand on the door handle to leave, having just finished straightening up their robes. “By the way, you may want to check on Perri. The punch had a bit of an extra kick to it, if you can’t tell by Igor’s… enthusiasm.” The door swung shut behind the exiting student.

Severus hurriedly got the feather from the defeated, blubbering man, gave him a quick wand oath, and rushed from the room and back to the party, fury building within him.

If anyone has done anything to her… I will kill anyone who has touched her.

It was almost an hour before he breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t drunk the punch after the Amortentia was added.

He knew it was Amortentia.

It smelled exactly like her.

Chapter Text

Hermione walked around Hogsmeade, perusing the village for the first time in this decade. Her friends had left for the winter holidays earlier in the morning and Severus wouldn’t return to collect her until the afternoon. The crisp winter air blew around her, chilling her and reminding her of happy winter memories at Hogwarts.

She found herself wandering into Tomes and Scrolls and perusing the shelves.

Books.

Inhaling, she took in the glorious scent of musty parchment and ink. The scents felt like the beginning of a treasure hunt.

Hermione walked around browsing for a few minutes before she felt a familiar prickling sensation over her arms. Her heart rate began to increase slightly, and she found her vision narrowing to a corner of the nearest bookshelf.

Sometimes the only explanation is that it has already happened before…

Finding the side-by-side books, she frowned.

For what purpose is fate directing me here? I have these books already.

Yes, but Severus doesn’t.

Hermione sighed and gathered the books up before wandering around and looking for a muggle section. Resigning herself to let destiny take the reigns for now, she thought about what else was already bound to happen.

Might as well find him the silver filigreed copy of Jane Eyre as well.

Severus met her at the entrance hall. She had to stop herself from starting a running leap into his arms in excitement as he turned to look at her, but quickly pulled herself together when she saw his expression. He appeared stoic, almost grim.

It appeared his glower was due to nervousness, perhaps to hide his designs on her if they were spotted. Thankfully enough for the pair, the entrance hall and grounds were deserted. As soon as they had made their way onto the snow-covered grass and began walking towards the gates, he relaxed somewhat.

As they walked, he slowed his pace and reached over, holding her hand in his. He pressed closer to her, his winter cloak hiding their conjoined hands. Hermione flushed partly in pleasure, partly from the cold weather, turning her head and smiling up at him. Severus showed almost no change apart from the slight tick at the edge of his mouth. They were in public after all.

After reaching the school gates, he apparated them to the house at Spinner’s End and shuffled her inside quickly. He kept his polite, indifferent mask up as he gave her a formal tour of the downstairs.

“I am determined to spend as little time as possible inside,” Severus told her after showing her the lower level of the house. He ran his hand through his hair, having finally let his guard down. He appeared embarrassed at the shabby wallpaper and furnishings. “There are plenty of events I can take you to… places I can show you…”

It was clean, at least. He had done his part preparing the place for her stay. There was no dust, and the furniture was less worn than she remembered it being 20 years from now.

Hermione blushed and turned to him. “Are you really?” She responded cheekily. “You haven’t shown me the upstairs yet.”

Severus arched an eyebrow, eyes widening slightly before he gave her a brief nod and directed her up the stairway. Hermione noted the stairs were not yet hidden behind a bookcase.

She was lost in reminiscing before she realized that Severus had led her first to the upper room she most remembered. She was standing in the same room she had stayed in the last Christmas she’d spent with him, the same room she’d nursed him back to health after near-death in.

It was an odd feeling, being back in this room.

“Severus, I…” She trailed off, almost overcome with emotion. From the walk through Hogsmeade alone this morning, to being back in this bedroom… this felt the closest to being back in the 90s as she had experienced in months. Hogwarts was entirely a different place with different students and teachers and hadn’t felt familiar in the same way.

It felt almost like being home now.

“Do you approve? It was my parents’ room, but I’ve altered it significantly. I spent most of this morning doing the transfiguration work and adding in the fireplace. The bed and all the furnishings are completely new- I wouldn’t have you sleep here otherwise.”

“Thank you, Severus. It’s lovely.” Hermione held the homesick tears back as she cleared her throat. “Are you staying- Where are you staying?”

“My room is down the hall,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t get to cleaning it yet, so wait for me to show you that one.”

Hermione nodded, turning her head away and biting her lip. It wouldn’t be right to ask him to stay here with her tonight.

“This room is nice,” Hermione said awkwardly, trying to hide her discomfort. “We could sit by the fire in the evenings.”

“I wouldn’t presume,” he replied. “If you wish to invite me in on a given night, you may do so.”

“Right,” she said flatly, trying not to show she was hurt. “I suppose I’ll unpack then.”

Severus gave his telltale quick nod. “I will be in the kitchen.” He closed the door and she sat down on the bed.

God, this was all getting so complicated, so confusing.

The way their kissing had been going, it had seemed the next step was sleeping together. Physically, she had no objections. Emotionally… it might be too much to tie herself to him knowing it would mean nothing to him in the long run. That even an intimate relationship with her wouldn’t compare to an unrequited devotion to Lily.

After almost no actual unpacking, but a few more minutes of thinking, Hermione joined Severus in the kitchen. He had just finished making tea.

“I hope you like it,” he rumbled quietly, handing her a mug. “It’s my own brew.”

Hermione took a deep whiff of the dark liquid. “Jasmine and… lavender?”

 “I thought you might enjoy that one. Lavender calms and jasmine...”

“Brings feelings of love and happiness,” she recited from memory. He smirked at her and nodded.

“Lovely,” she murmured after taking a sip. Sitting quietly for a few minutes and sipping the tea did wonders for her nerves. “There’s…” She frowned and wrinkled her nose. “There’s another mug.”

“Yes, I am expecting another for tea. Only a short visit, but he must be fashionably late even for tea, I suppose.”

Hermione took another sip of her mug and relaxed further. A visitor would explain his odd behavior.

“Who-” A rushing noise sounded from the other room.

“There’s the floo now. Just a moment.” Severus briskly exited the kitchen and returned a few seconds later. Hermione nearly spit out her tea and had to physically fight to keep herself calm when she saw the man trailing after him.

“… but it could stand to be fixed up further; it’s practically a hovel. Are you sure you aren’t in need of more funds, Severus? I assure you, it can be arranged…” The tall blond man trailed off on seeing Hermione. “Well, well. Who do we have here?”

Hermione rose from her seat at the small table.

“Lucius, this is a… friend of mine from school. Lucius Malfoy-”

“Anna,” Hermione said quickly, sticking out her hand. “Anna Perri.”

She noted a small brow movement from Severus, but he moved on fluidly from her introduction. “Yes, Anna Perri. She is an Italian transfer student who comes to us by way of Romania.”

Lucius took Hermione’s hand and brought it to his lips for a chaste kiss. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Anna.” Despite the archaic gesture, it was quite cordial. “Italian, you say?” Lucius eyed Hermione’s wardrobe and she blushed, feeling very frumpy and inelegant in her regular jumper and jeans. He was probably actually wearing something Italian based on how overdressed he appeared.

They all sat, Lucius conjuring his own chair to sit at the table. Despite what he thought of the state of the place, he was polite enough not to sneer at the shabbiness. He did mention what he had upon entering, however, and attempt to give Severus additional funding for furnishing the place. They spent a few minutes on this, with Lucius really doing his best to give Severus more money and Severus politely declining at every step.

“It is enough now simply to have an address outside of Hogwarts,” Severus replied smoothly. “I hate the place, frankly, and any further renovations would be wasted on it. I can look into a suitable dwelling once I leave Hogwarts.”

“Yes, about that. What are your plans upon graduation?” Lucius inquired, sipping at the tea.

“I have decided on a Potions Mastery,” Severus replied. He inclined his head politely in her direction. “It was Anna’s suggestion, and I think under examination it holds merit. I have always had an interest and talent in potion-making and the skills are practical, career-wise.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Hermione. “Really? I see you hold her opinion in high regard, Severus.”

She gave him an icy smile in return. “I know he holds your opinion in high regard, Mr. Malfoy.”

Lucius didn’t look offended by the comment, nor at her refusal to call him by his first name, simply chuckling and raising his mug to her before drinking again.

Perhaps the calming and loving feelings induced by the tea were so we could get along, Hermione realized. Despite the tea, she was struggling to keep her famous Gryffindor temper in check. A tea party with Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater, on no warning!

“I agree with the suggestion,” Lucius finally said. She hadn’t realized Severus had been holding in a breath until she saw him exhale slowly and unclench his hands from under the table. “I can certainly see the utility of a career in potions…” He shrugged. “I will do what I can to assist you in this. The Mastery payments, however…”

“You needn’t worry about my scrounging, Lucius,” Severus replied in answer. “As much as I have appreciated the generosity thus far, it is better to make my own way here forward. I can work to pay for the needed books and ingredients, the Mastery programme as well.”

Lucius nodded. “And you, Anna? What are your plans following graduation from Hogwarts?”

Hermione thought about giving him the same answer she’d fed Slughorn about starting a family, but that didn’t seem to be the right play here.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said quietly. “I suppose I’ll have to wait and see the state of things around that time.”

“The state of things?” Lucius said curiously. “What do you mean by that?”

“I have debated looking for a Ministry position, perhaps in policymaking or in research- I’m partial to Charmwork and Arithmancy calculations, so something in that area. That will all depend on the state of the government, I wager.”

“Do you predict the Ministry of Magic to go through any major changes in the next six months?”

“I wouldn’t dare to make a prediction. Astrology and Divination have never been my strong suit.”

“Yet?”

“Yet these are… volatile times, Mr. Malfoy. One needs to be prepared for all possibilities.” That’s what a Slytherin does, after all.

Lucius smirked. Just as with Severus, it seemed a smirk from him could be an attempt at being good-natured. “I do approve of your friend, Severus. If you wish, you may bring her to the family gathering. As for now,” Lucius rose from his seat and vanished it, “I have finished my tea.”

Severus and Hermione rose, Severus walking Lucius out to the floo and speaking in a low voice to him while Hermione’s legs nearly buckled at a new train of thought.

Lucius Malfoy has sway with the Hogwarts Board of Governors- is he on the Board of Governors? Has he seen my school records? Does he find out about my time traveling? If he knows I time travel, what could he do with that information? Would he use it to hurt Harry?

When Severus returned, he found her with angry tears running down her face, pacing around the tiny kitchen.

“Severus, how could you! He’s a Death Eater and you’re introducing me to him, trying to get him to approve of me? This is- this is too much!” She tried to think about the future implications of meeting him here, but her heart was racing too quickly.

“Hermione?” To his credit, he did look confused at her outburst. “Lucius has supported me, emotionally and financially for the past year. He’s practically family-”

“Family?!” She couldn’t help but shriek. “He- He-”

He gave Ginny that possessed diary- a horcrux, remember, with part of Voldemort’s soul; he’s the father of a boy who tormented me mercilessly and called me a mudblood; he tried to execute Buckbeak; he and his Death Eater pals tortured muggles at the Quidditch World Cup, helped Voldemort return, then tried to kill us all at the Department of Mysteries!

Her eyes widened. Family?

“He- he mentioned a family gathering- don’t tell me that you’re inviting me to a Death Eater meeting, I absolutely refuse to be a part of that! If he plans to do me or my friends harm-”

“I would never let you come to harm!” Severus looked angry now. “Lucius paid for the house and arranged for the Ministry to look the other way. He even dealt with the Muggles who were snooping around,” he explained. “But I suppose all Slytherins must be intent on doing you harm.”

“Malfoy is,” she snarled at him angrily.

“Ah, and I suppose this sentiment comes from information you can not disclose. Let me guess, it was prompted by Potter or Black or any one of their little female hangers-on that you associate with.” He folded his arms across his chest and sneered his best Professor Snape sneer. “You believe their promises and intentions immediately, but my own-”

“Your own what?” She cried. “You have promised me only what you needed to! You have not promised to stay out of revolutionary action, you have not promised to tell me what is happening! I have to practically beg to keep my friends from harm, and I can only choose specific friends to hold you to protecting! As far as anyone is concerned, I’m only a friend to you at any rate! I guess it makes sense why it doesn’t matter to you at all. You can’t understand what I’m going through because you don’t have any other friends to care for!”

Almost immediately, the tone in the room shifted and she realized she had said the absolutely worst thing she could. She hadn’t meant it to be cruel, she’d meant exactly what he’d said before, that the Slytherins weren’t truly his friends, only acquaintances or classmates. Besides, if they needed protection, he expected them to take care of themselves.

He said nothing, but she closed her eyes in shame.

“I- I… Severus, I didn’t mean…”

“You are mistaken,” he said quietly. “Lucius is my friend. I care for him and his family. Perhaps,” he whispered stonily, “I should not have called you my friend.”

He walked over to the table and began silently collecting the mugs. Hermione choked out a sob and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, slamming the door to her room.

Hermione awoke bleary-eyed with a pounding headache a few hours later. They’d had tea at the appropriate time in the afternoon, so it must be late. After casting a tempus with a groan (10 o’clock, really?), she realized she had completely missed dinner, explaining the hunger-induced migraine.

It was all insurmountable, at least right now.

I can’t be in two minds about this anymore, she thought after summoning a glass and performing aguamenti. She held it in her hand before drinking, staring numbly into the water. I either need to support him completely, which means helping him become a Death Eater and associate with Death Eaters… or I need to make a clean break.

She had to break it off with Severus. This was the logical conclusion, she knew. Hermione was a logical person still, wasn’t she?

She had listened to Severus initially and let it be for now, but how long could they sustain a relationship on kissing and parallel intellectual pursuits? Sure, they were compatible in those senses, but in ideology? In life view? How could they agree on all the minor insubstantial things and none of the important ones?

She should break it off with him.

Yet her chest constricted, and she almost had to push the thought away so she could breathe properly. The thought of ending it hurt physically. She felt doomed to heartache no matter what her decision was.

But it’ll be heartache in the end, anyway, won’t it? She thought grimly. Because of Lily.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called hoarsely. She realized she was still holding the full glass of water and drank it as Severus entered the room holding a tray. He was wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt that hung a little loosely on him.

“I made dinner,” he said stiffly, gesturing with the tray. “I didn’t know if you wanted to eat alone…”

“That’s up to you,” she said quietly, looking away. “I certainly don’t expect you to eat with me after what I said.”

Severus set the tray on a table by the fireplace she hadn’t noticed before. He appeared to hesitate after setting it down before walking over to the bed and sitting next to her.

“It was nothing I hadn’t heard before,” he said upon sitting.

“Oh, oh that’s why I’m so sorry I said it,” she whispered, tearing up again. “I didn’t mean that you had no friends, you just told me yourself the other Slytherin seventh-years weren’t friends to you… it all came out wrong. I- I’m sorry for being rude about Malfoy too.” She swallowed, still feeling sick to think about Lucius Malfoy, but knowing she had gone beyond the proper bounds of complaint.

“Please forgive me, Severus.” She reached out to hold his hand. He didn’t remove his hand when she touched him, which she took as a good sign. “I want to be counted as a friend.”

“Hermione,” he sighed. “I meant what I said. I should not have introduced you as a friend.” He began to squeeze her hand and rub her fingers with his as he held it.

“I’m not forgiven?” She whispered softly, her heart sinking.                                       

Severus looked up at her quickly. “You- of course you are. I only mean I should have used the proper language. You are… you are dear to me, Hermione.” He squeezed her hand again. “I apologize for springing this visit on you. I can not introduce you to my family, as I have none left, but Lucius has…  somewhat adopted me. He understood what I was doing, but I was perhaps too circumspect with you by using the term ‘friend’.”

“You mean you were too subtle for a Gryffindor?” She said with a small smile.

“You said it, not me.” He met her eyes with his dark ones.

Severus took the hand of hers he had been holding and raised it to his lips, kissing the palm reverently. He stared into her eyes as he moved her hand to hold his cheek.

“Are we… set right?” He whispered.

Her throat closed up a little, her body trying to prevent her mind from doing the cold, logical business of breaking both of their hearts.

“Severus, I hate fighting with you,” she said honestly. “I can’t help but wonder if… if we aren’t…” she swallowed, “…compatible…”

“I don’t,” he said firmly. “I never wonder that.” He released her hand so he could scoot over closer to her on the bed. He opened his arms, leaving her the option of moving forward to enter them, which she did readily. He held her against his chest as she released a shaky breath.

“I wanted you to meet my family because you are important to me,” he said. It all came out in a rumble in Hermione’s ear as she was still held against his chest, engulfed in his arms and comforted by his musky scent. “The gathering he mentioned, it isn’t political. It’s just dinner on Christmas Eve at his home.”

She pulled away to look up at him. “He really is family to you, isn’t he?”

Severus looked a bit embarrassed but nodded. “Becoming so. He and his wife have had some trouble conceiving in the last few years. He and I already got along well and when she heard about my parents, his wife encouraged him to take an active role in my… formation, if you will. I think she’s been craving some mothering.”

Hermione frowned. “He can’t be that much older than you. Not enough to adopt.”

“No, no it’s more of an elder brother relationship. A mentor. Some of the adopted family connexions are there, however, just in how they’ve taken me in as their own.” Hermione nodded and he continued. “I know you’ve had your misgivings about my politics. I wanted to show you I decided on the Potions mastery as well. If it does keep me out of trouble… well, that should set your mind at ease, I hope?”

Hermione bit her lip and snuggled back into his embrace, not thinking that was a good enough concession, but not wanting to enforce anything.

After a few moments of silence, he repeated, “Are we set right?”

“One condition,” she mumbled into his chest. He bristled at the words but waited.             

“Stay with me tonight,” she whispered, blushing furiously. “Sleep in here with me.” It had seemed to be the natural progression of their relationship, but she was still embarrassed to ask. He didn’t answer immediately, and her embarrassment grew. “You don’t have to. Only if you want to, it isn’t required. It isn’t really a condition, I mean-”

“Hermione.” He pulled her away from his chest, lifting her red face up and holding it in both his hands. He kissed her sweetly, helping relieve more of the twisted pressure that had built up in her chest after the crying and the worrying of that evening. He pulled away from the kiss too quickly for her liking and she couldn’t help but let out a small whinge in frustration.

“Gods, girl,” he purred, seeing her reaction. “As if I wouldn’t want to share a bed with you.”

“You didn’t seem to want to,” she mumbled, biting her lip.

He laughed in surprise, but quickly corrected himself into a sober expression when she looked hurt. “I wasn’t about to bring you here and invite myself into bed with you,” he said seriously. “That has always been your decision.”

“And if I only meant for sleeping?”

“Then I am grateful to be close to you at night.” There was no hint of disappointment on his face.

She smiled at him and pulled him back in for a kiss.

Tired of being mad or sad or doubtful of him and aching to let out some of the emotion she had been feeling, Hermione quickly pushed the kiss further, opening her mouth and running her tongue along his lips. He groaned, pulling her onto his lap in their favorite position, her knees on either side of him. Daringly, she nudged him backward until he fell on his back, continuing to kiss him and writhe on top of him on the bed. She laced her fingers through his dark hair, lips pressing against his, alternately licking, sucking and biting on his lips as he eagerly held her against him. When she released his hair and tried moving her hands down his body, he moaned and held her hands at bay.

“I- there’s… dinner,” he panted. His hair was wildly sticking out and all angles and his lips were bright red.

“R- right,” she said a bit unsteadily. “I suppose we’ll need sustenance to continue this discussion anyway.”

He smirked at her.

The first night in bed together was a bit awkward due to the milestone. Hermione dressed in about the loosest pajamas she had, nervously brushing her hair out for far too long until Severus came and took the brush away.

“We’ll just sleep,” he crooned. “I’ll hold you.”

She finally settled down after an hour lying in the dark, held in his arms and whispering back and forth to him.

Hermione was strange about these sorts of things. It was easy to overthink the intimacy, which is why being carried away in the heat of the moment was so much easier and more thrilling.

The next few days at home with Severus were relaxed. He showed her around the neighborhood, even pointing out where the Evans family had lived only a few months previously. She made sure not to ask many questions about Lily as he seemed withdrawn and evasive on the subject.

They toured a local used bookshop and lost each other for a few hours only to rejoin with an armload of selections each. The knowing look they exchanged on seeing the other with a mountain of new books made Hermione’s heart skip a beat. Severus gave her a sly look, suggesting he’d reward her inquisitiveness later.

Severus was quite a good cook, making up for Hermione’s lack. He would concoct a delicious meal with as much finesse as if it were a potion, making her feel as if they were out fine dining every night. Hermione did not have any skills at sauteing or cooking meat to perfection as Severus did, though she wasn’t bad at baking. Holiday treats did help make it feel like Christmas time even more, so she was glad she could contribute something to the atmosphere.

Nights were spent by the fire reading and talking before snogging relentlessly. Snogging would take place on the couch, on the floor by the fire, anywhere but the bed. Ever the gentleman, Severus did nothing but hold her once they were in bed, waiting for her to initiate anything. Hermione was feeling insecure initiating anything. Her confidence in the romantic department kept going up and down due to all the different relationship impediments she knew about. Nevertheless, she did want to enjoy her time with him while she had it, and he didn’t appear to object.

It was getting bloody frustrating.

One night she was having a particularly engaging dream and began shifting and turning in the bed to get comfortable.

Severus was dressed in full professor regalia, looking down at her fiercely. She was sitting at a desk in his Defense classroom, head hung low and hiding behind her curls. Her skirt seemed much shorter than usual and her shirt was unbuttoned near the point of being indecent. Dream Hermione seemed to be in trouble for something.

“You have been deceitful,” Snape hissed at her. “You have lied about yourself, you have changed the past, and worst of all Miss Granger, you have attempted to seduce your professor.” He stood directly in front of her as she hung her head. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “What do you think should happen, Hermione?”

“I suppose…”

“No! What should happen?”

“I should be punished,” she said quietly.

“Quite right, witch,” he hissed, making her whimper in fear. “Stand up.”

She rose, quivering. She could smell his tell-tale scent of the library and feel the heat emanating off him.

“Turn and bend over the desk.”

She did as he requested, bending over the cool wooden desk and resting on her forearms, her skirt lifting higher up her thighs. Professor Snape positioned himself behind her and slowly, gently, lifted the skirt up up up until her knickers were completely exposed and the skirt edge was up over her waist.

“You’ve been playing as a schoolgirl, but I’ll have no more pretense,” he rumbled in a low, velvety voice. Hermione’s breath hitched as she felt him place his hands on either side of her waist and slide her knickers down. When they trapped her thighs together, he stopped. She tried to keep herself from wiggling and rubbing her thighs together.

“Let’s start with the number of years you went back. 20, wasn’t it?” And he slapped her hard on the buttocks so it stung. She cried out in surprise. “19 more,” he murmured.

Hermione jolted against the desk with each slap, his hand sharply stinging her with each blow to the exposed flesh. Despite the pain, she felt she deserved it, as he had been right about his complaints. He was also incredible erotic and foreboding like this and she wanted to allow him the liberty.

“There you are,” he said roughly after a particularly harsh slap that made her squeal. “Now get up.”

Shakily, she pushed herself up, knickers still partway up her legs. Severus caught her from behind as she stood, holding her upright and pressing her back into his chest. He held her tightly by one hip as he pressed his erection to her, reaching around and unbuttoning the rest of her shirt with his other hand.

“Twenty Goddamn years, Hermione. You wasted my time for so long, but there will be no more teasing.” His hand slipped from her waist to between her legs as the other hand palmed her breast and massaged it firmly. “You are mine now, Hermione,” He breathed in her ear. “You will not leave me again.” His hand moved between her legs, stroking her exposed lips with a soft touch. “Oh yes, sweet witch, you are so wet for me.” He swiftly pressed two fingers inside her and pumped them up and down.

“Severus!” Hermione moaned quietly.

“Hermione?”

Hermione jolted awake. She was still very aroused, but she was now in the bed with a completely different, younger Severus. He was propped up on his elbow, staring at her wide-eyed.

“You said my name,” he said, by way of explanation. The light from the fireplace cast a dim glow over his face.

“I- I didn’t mean to.” She was already hot with sweat from thrashing in her sleep but seeing that look from him made it worse.

“What were you dreaming about?” He asked hoarsely. It was clear from his heated gaze that he had already guessed.

“Er…”

“Hermione… I can smell you.”

It wouldn’t do to deny it then. “Y- you. I was dreaming about you.”

“You want me?” He breathed, eyes wide.

“Oh God yes,” she said in a rush. She bit her lip and flushed at her admission but still continued to meet his eyes.

Severus smirked dangerously and scooted closer to her. She was already nearly shaking with pent-up arousal.

“There’s no way we can go to sleep like this,” he said in a low voice. “I know I’ll be up the rest of the night otherwise… and I want you to relax as well.”

She nodded quickly a few times in agreement, though she still had a surprised, deer-in-the-headlights look to her face. He noticed her hesitancy and paused for a moment before continuing.

“Show me what you like,” he whispered.

“Wh- what?” She blushed even deeper, completely entranced by his words and his heated look.

“You are my only experience in these matters,” he said honestly, not even appearing embarrassed to admit this in his blatant desire. His eyes raked over her form and back up to meet hers again. “Show me how to touch you. Show me how to pleasure you.”

“I- um…”

He scooted back to where he had been previously and propped himself up on his elbow to watch her. “Close your eyes. I’m not even here. Imagine you’re alone. Just… show me.”

She blushed but did as she was told. She scooted and lay flat on her back, inhaling and exhaling to calm herself. Keeping her eyes closed, she began to reenact the lonely nights she had spent behind silenced curtains in the four-poster bed. Now she was actually putting on a show for Severus Snape, she realized, and this one wasn’t only in her head.

Her hand moved immediately to her sleep trousers, pushing them down. She slid them slowly down her legs and kicked them off, trying to pretend Severus wasn’t watching her. He was appropriately silent.

Then she put her fingers on top of her panties, already damp with arousal from the dream, and slowly stroked up and down, circling her clit over the silky fabric before trailing lower. Her left hand moved upward to push her shirt up, exposing her breasts. Hands moving in tandem, one below and one above, she pinched and stroked slowly, arching as well into each hand as she could. Her breathing began to grow unsteady, coming out in small pants.

Now she could hear Severus’ breathing. There was a rustling and she wondered if he was removing his own clothing. She frowned, still not opening her eyes, but ceasing her hand movements, wondering if he would touch her now.

“Don’t stop,” he said in a husky voice that was right at her ear. Hermione gasped in surprise at his proximity but didn’t move away or open her eyes. “Show me,” he purred. “Show me how to please you.”

Hermione nodded, still not opening her eyes, as if Severus were her own private daydream motivating her to climax. Her hands slowly began to move again.

“Yesss,” Severus exhaled in a low, velvety tone. “Imagine I am touching you.”

She continued squeezing her breast and twisting her nipple deliciously in one hand while rubbing against her clit through her panties with the other. Severus’ breathing was becoming more audible, and she could feel by an accidental movement against him at her side that he had removed his shirt at least.

“You are divine, Hermione,” he whispered. “Exquisite.”

This caused her to moan, arching up into her hands. Knowing he was right beside her watching her and hearing his gorgeous voice egg her on was only enhancing her desire.

“Oh, oh Severus,” she breathed, squeezing her eyes tight. She finally gave in to the need to touch herself directly and moved her hand under the fabric of her knickers, making quick short circles around her engorged nub with her finger.

He groaned at the motion she made, and she finally grew daring enough to open her eyes. Blinking, she looked over and saw that he was shirtless and on his side facing towards her, devouring her with his dark passion-filled eyes. A trail of sparse black hair ran down his chest, accenting his thin, muscular frame. His sleep trousers were pulled down slightly and he was gripping his exposed manhood tightly and stroking himself up and down. Her eyes widened, taking in his form, her mouth becoming dry at the sight of him aroused and pleasuring himself. She was doing this to him, and that knowledge was even more erotic.

She continued moving her lower hand faster, arching her hips off the bed as she watched him watch her. Her other hand cupped her breast, skimming the nipple lightly. Severus appeared hypnotized by her motions, wanking harder and faster. This caused Hermione to moan, as if they were automatically energizing each other in a closed-loop system, sending pleasure back and forth and driving each other higher and higher.

“You are the sexiest witch I have ever seen. Your body is incredible.”

“Ohh… Severus…”

“Come Hermione,” he hissed, still masturbating. “Let me see you come.”

“Sev- uhh Severus I can’t- I ohhh!”

She felt herself bucking into her hand in the familiar motion she had experienced so many times before, soaking wet and unable to get herself past quaking in ecstasy. Her lower body pulsed and she shuddered, whimpering as she looked into his eyes. Yet again, she was too sensitive to carry on. So so so close but she couldn’t make herself continue. She bit her lip and looked away, shakily removing her hand from between her legs.

“What’s wrong?” He could tell she was upset.

“I- I can’t… not on my own…”

Severus quickly jumped forward to her and held his body against hers as she moaned in satisfied longing to feel his bare flesh.

“Please, please!” She whimpered, letting him know she needed his touch. He quickly pushed her panties down further to give him better access, inhaling unevenly at the sight of her glistening before him.

“Hermione,” he growled.

Almost frantically, she moved his fingers between her legs, too overtaken now to be shy or embarrassed. “Like- like this- here- yes. Yes, there, yes. YES! Oh Severus, yes! Uhhh YES!” Inspired by her interrupted dream, she had positioned his hand at her wet entrance, before slowly maneuvering it inside.

“Fuck, Hermione,” He moaned. “You are so wet and tight.” Per her directions, he had his thumb on her clitoris and two long fingers inside of her as she pressed into his hand, holding it in hers and showing him which motions to make against her. He rubbed with his thumb, pressing with his fingers as she arched upward. As his hand moved with hers down below, Severus used his free hand to cup and squeeze her breast.

“Come for me,” he said sharply, as a command. “Come on my hand.”

“Ohhh Severus, yes.” Hermione wriggled around on his fingers, arching her hips towards him.

Severus began pumping roughly up and down, faster and faster and she started to lose her breath, coming to the edge of the precipice. Her head fell forward onto his chest as they both moved his fingers frantically up and down.

“Oh yes, Severus don’t stop- don’t STOP! Please, DON’T STOP! Oh my God yes! YES YES YES YESSSS!”

Hermione gasped as her whole body shook violently and fluid gushed from between her legs. Her vision grew spots of black and many small white lights flickered in her line of sight. Severus gripped her tightly as she shuddered, waiting for her to calm before slowly removing his fingers from her pussy. He smeared fluid up her thigh as he removed his hand and raised it up. She lifted her head to see him close his eyes and insert the digits in his mouth, sucking up the remaining bits of her arousal.

“Severus…” She whispered in awe.

He removed his fingers and opened his eyes, darker than she ever remembered seeing them. As he lowered his hand again, she reached up and brushed some stray black hairs away from his face, never wanting to lose contact with those eyes. He still cupped one breast with his free hand and he squeezed it gently, shaking her out of her daze.

“Will you… show me…?” Hermione lowered her hand to his erect shaft, touching it lightly. He hissed, still meeting her eyes intently. Silently, he covered her small hand with his, showing her how to squeeze and twist, gripping and pumping together. She gasped, her mouth forming an ‘o’ to feel the new sensation of his hard and silky manhood.

As his own breathing began growing erratic, he lowered his mouth to her neck. She continued moving her hand up and down with his own, finding she enjoyed gripping him, especially seeing and hearing his reaction to it. He sucked and kissed her neck and shoulder, continuing to massage her breast and pinch her nipple with his other hand, alternating to the other breast to touch it equally. She closed her eyes and sighed, waves of soft pleasure rocking through her from the attention to her breasts. Her body had only needed the initial jump start with his help and now pleasure came more freely.

Severus began to whimper and thrust more desperately into her hand. “Hermione,” he groaned just below her ear, “Oh God, Hermione!”

His face was still pressed into her neck and she stroked his hair with her free hand. “Come, Severus.” She whispered.

“Oh yes, Hermione! Yes! Bloody fucking hell, YES!”

Severus grunted loudly and she felt a few swift thrusts into her hand before he held himself stiff and came spurting onto her and the bedsheets, her abdomen absorbing some of his seed.

After a few long seconds, he whispered a cleansing spell and removed his hand from hers. His face was still hidden in her neck. She took a few more seconds to loosen her grip and release him gently. She continued lightly stroking his black hair.

“Well… that was…” She whispered dazedly.

“Incredible,” He mumbled into her neck.

“Indeed,” she said dryly, perfectly imitating him.  

He snorted and raised his head. He was wearing a self-satisfied smirk that held none of its usual harshness. His brows were relaxed and untroubled. He leaned in for a kiss to her lips with half-lidded eyes. She kissed him back gently, both of them smiling shyly as they withdrew.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I… I am…” He swallowed, having trouble voicing whatever it was he was thinking. “I am honored to share your bed.” He settled for finally.

She didn’t know how to answer that apart from a declaration of love that might not be well received. Hermione smiled gently at him and kissed him again softly. “Technically, it’s your bed,” she teased.

He chuckled and brought his lips to hers again. Hermione felt her heart might explode out of her chest. It hadn’t stopped frantically beating after her orgasm.

After withdrawing from the kiss, she cleared her throat and looked around at their barely-on clothes. “Is there a point getting redressed?” She said aloud, blushing and trying to smooth down her completely wild hair.

“None,” Severus said, smirking. He pushed his sleep trousers off completely, tossing them to the floor, and lay back on the bed in his naked glory. Hermione tried in vain to hide her smile, rolling her eyes at him. She turned her back to him, stood up and removed the rest of her clothing as well. She climbed back into the bed, quickly pulling the covers over herself as Severus pulled her into his arms.

Hermione sighed languidly as he held her, laying her head against his chest.  

“My darling,” he whispered in a low rumble, stroking her curls gently.

The light of morning did nothing to dampen Severus’ enthusiasm, and it took no convincing at all on his part for her to teach him more about her body. He spent much more time now kissing her lips (far too neglected in the dark) as well as stroking playfully down her form, paying special attention to her breasts. When he first got a good look at them in the light, he appeared utterly captivated and she caught him muttering something about her having the best breasts on the planet, “better than the magazines in the attic,” he’d groaned. He had almost a scientific fascination with the orbs, examining them fully in every way he could. He was determined to cradle, lick, suck, and squeeze her breasts and nipples until she rubbed herself against him and desperately pleaded with him to move lower.

She was about ready to hex him before he brought his hand downward and lightly stroked her hot core, causing her to whimper in lust.

He repeated the tip she had taught him with the fingers and thumb the night before, entering her with his long fingers and pumping without any additional instructions on placement. He simultaneously sucked at her breast while he worked her with his fingers, causing her to gasp, moan his name, and fiercely grip his dark hair at her breast. She finally shattered below him as he flexed his long fingers inside her, curling and pointing them.

Not long after, he came groaning and spurting between her thighs as she demonstrated what she had learned from him, stroking and twisting his shaft with one hand and adding another hand to cup his ball sack per his new directions.

“Hermione,” He breathed, jaw slack as he looked down at her afterwards. “You are… magnificent.”

She beamed at him, blushing. “You are pretty fine yourself, Severus.”

He pulled her roughly into his embrace and kissed her another time, grinning through it. Hermione couldn’t stop blushing and smiling ecstatically, which only seemed to enhance his ardour.

Eventually they did have to rise from bed and eat, though it was a few more hours of cuddling, drifting back to sleep, and gentle kissing before they bothered. They neglected dressing appropriately as all pretense of propriety was long gone. Severus wore no shirt, having stoked up the fire earlier, and Hermione donned only her pants and a shirt of Severus’, coming to her mid-thigh. They sat languidly with plates of fruit and deli meats by the fire, taking turns feeding each other and teasingly touching exposed skin, though not in any particular hurry to act.

There was even a time for a Potions theory discussion between lust-filled glances. Severus eagerly sought Hermione’s input on Charms and Arithmancy-based experimentation, admitting he did not have a natural affinity in those subjects. After nodding seriously and adding a few helpful suggestions to adapt a potion from a multi-disciplinary standpoint, Hermione teasingly reminded Severus about the recent educational pursuits he did possess a natural talent for.

She was pleasantly surprised to find he was already aroused by her mind and they didn’t even bother fully removing their clothing, content with frotting and kissing on the rug. He clenched his buttocks as his hips ground into her wet arousal, quickly bringing her to orgasm beneath him. Her soft cries were replaced by his feral sounds, snarling and almost growling in frustration.

As she brought her legs around his waist to grip him, he shoved the shirt she wore up and sucked at her breast as if he were starving. Her whimpers and moans from his suckling and fondling both breasts might have been enough to push him over the edge alone, but once he released her breast she flipped them over, laying prone against him and directing his hands to her thighs and hips to help her rub against him.

They sighed together as they kissed and she took the lead, rubbing against his clothed erection in just the right way to hit her clitoris and send her keening and shaking again. At this, Severus gripped her buttocks roughly and arched up into her as he kissed her. Their lips parted and his tongue thrust between them, penetrating her mouth as his manhood only teased through his trousers.

“Fuck- sweet- witch,” he snarled as she whimpered. He kissed his way to her ear, groaning loudly into it once he reached it. “You are the- oh yesss- the death of me.” Hermione grew desperate, having already left a large wet patch on his trousers. She fumbled for the fastenings and tried to shimmy his clothing down his lithe hips. Once she reached his pants and gripped him roughly through the fabric, he thrust quickly into her hand, gritting his teeth. “My- oh, Hermione, you undo me! Gods, you- uhh fuck yes! Fuck yes!”

Shit, she thought, gasping. A rush of fluid left her as he arched into her hand and came in his shorts. It was erotic to the point of ecstasy to see and hear him lose complete control.

They collapsed on the rug together, a hot heap of limbs and clothing soiled with their emissions. After Severus appeared to catch his breath, he pulled her mouth to his for a long and unhurried kiss.

“I cannot get enough of you,” he said quite seriously as he pulled away. He pulled her to snuggle against his bare chest for a few languid sweaty minutes as they recovered, eventually casting some cleansing charms.

“Severus?” She asked.

“Mmm,” he replied sleepily. He traced his hand gently over her back as she curled against him.

“We’ve only a few hours now til dinner. Do you still want me to come tonight?” She looked up to see his reaction. He smirked and raised an eyebrow lasciviously. “Stop!” She laughed and smacked his arm playfully. “You know what I mean. Do you want me to go to dinner with the Malfoys?”

His smile faded. “If… if it is not too much…”

“If you think I wouldn’t hurt anything for you, I would.” She sighed, lazily tracing her fingers against his chest. “I’m not exactly a high-society girl and I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m happy with some of your Slytherin associations.”

“Simply be honest in a way that won’t cause any issues.”

“How?”

Severus smirked and rolled his eyes. “Gryffindor.” He ruffled her curls. “Emphasize the positives and downplay the negatives. It’s not a lie to say you are… unsure, hesitant, perhaps on my politics. You don’t want me to get into trouble, which Narcissa can relate to; however, you don’t want pureblood magical traditions to be lost to history either, correct?”

“So, sound like I’m part of that camp?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Just that you could be. Just that you aren’t opposed to hearing our side of the argument.” Severus wrapped his arm around her and gave a light squeeze, pulling her further into his embrace. “There is no danger to you. If there’s any sign of trouble, we’ll leave. I would never allow you to come to harm under my watch.”

Hermione looked up at him, seeing his sincerity. He gave her a shy smile and her heart jumped up and down in her chest.

“I know, Severus. I know you wouldn’t.” She smiled back at him before moving forward to kiss him gently.

Not physical harm, anyway, she thought. It’s already too late to keep from hurting me now.

Chapter Text

After they showered (separately, on Hermione’s insistence that they’d never get ready otherwise) and dressed, there was little time left before Christmas Eve dinner. Hermione spent the rest of the time tying her stomach in knots, nervous about saying or doing the wrong thing. She found herself both angry and suspicious of Lucius Malfoy but also desperate to look her best and not embarrass Severus in front of him.

She dressed in the same dark green dress, long-sleeved and very low-backed, and accompanying gold sash that she had worn for Slughorn’s Christmas party in 1996. The same party after which Professor Snape had threaded his hands in her hair, sensually rubbed his face on her neck, and turned her into a puddle of need with his enticing words.

It wasn’t wrong to miss Professor Snape, was it? She had this Severus here and now, but… there was a difference. Sometimes it even felt like betrayal. Sometimes Hermione would look at the Severus in 1977 questioningly and wonder how he became the Severus in 20 years. Not that she didn’t adore the subtle nuances of this one, but… she frequently saw beyond him towards the potential man he would become. She missed that man as much as she drank in her good fortune at being able to meet this one.

Hermione looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, checking to see if everything was in place. As the Time-Turner carefully stowed in her beaded bag, the only other accessory she wore was her sapphire pendant. Her hair was tucked up in a high bun, a few tendrils of hair escaping effortlessly. Simple, but elegant enough.

Looking at her face, she could see her natural blush shown through the light layer of makeup. She was glowing with happiness. It was difficult to keep the wide grin off her face. Every few minutes over the last few hours she would cover her cheeks with her hands and try to will the heat away.

She had already known she was falling in love with Severus Snape, but now… it was exceedingly difficult to deny that she loved him, even to her own strict, self-compartmentalizing nature. She loved the 17-year-old man and the 37-year-old man, despite their differences. Madly.

It was quite mad, wasn’t it?

The thought helped sober her quickly. Yes, it is quite mad to spend Christmas Eve with the Malfoys, especially when their future son will despise me. All of this is quite mad. Severus… your love for him…

And there it was. The sickly fear and disbelief that rose in her throat, counteracting the ridiculous, giddy lovesickness. It was almost strange that this sensation is what comforted her. It made her acknowledge the absurdity of her entire journey through time, made her heart feel heavy in her chest, made her want to sob and retch and scream all at once, but still, it made her feel real. This was real, this was really happening, it wasn’t all some bizarre dream that had gone on too long, gone on for months, pulled her away from everyone and everything she had known in her lifetime. It had already been five months nearly since-

“Hermione?”

“I- I’m ready.” She opened the bathroom door before she could allow the feeling to completely overwhelm her with panic. Severus backed away from the door so she could step out. After closing the door behind her, she turned to face Severus.

He was dressed in black dress robes adorned with subtle embroidery at the neck and sleeves. His dark hair was loose, not tied back as it often was.

They matched well. Simple, but elegant.

Severus’ dark eyes were wide, sweeping over her outfit, making her a bit self-conscious.

“Is it alright?” She asked nervously.

“Beautiful,” he said finally. He took her hand. “Come. We shouldn’t be late.”

Malfoy Manor was every bit as regal as Draco Malfoy’s manner implied it would be. The long hedgerows and peacocks wandering the enchanted lawns would have been clue enough, but the 12-foot-high, brass double entrance doors merely magnified the projection to a visitor that this was old, old money and you should prepare to feel miniature in comparison.

As a house-elf ushered the couple quickly and quietly inside (and Hermione wondered how an elf would even begin to navigate those heavy doors), Hermione had to physically force herself not to tilt her head backwards and gape at the ceiling height or stop and take in the large baroque paintings in the entrance hall and around the grand staircase. Thankfully, Severus placed a hand on her lower back and gently guided her behind the elf toward the correct destination. As they moved, he leaned his head to her ear.

“All for show,” he whispered with a sardonic smirk in his tone. “Act like the Gryffindor I know you are and don’t let the disgusting opulence shake you.”

She took a breath and nodded, schooling her features before they were shown into the drawing room.

Apart from the massive scale of the room, it was much more welcoming. The high cathedral ceilings and long windows were contrasted with the comfortable furniture adorned in warm reds and browns. Couches, chairs, and small tables for lounging were arched around a gigantic hearth (again, to ridiculous scale) which spread a familial glow around the rest of the room. A 20-foot-tall Christmas tree decorated to elegant perfection stood in the corner near the fireplace, not in any danger of scraping the ceiling.

Four figures sat in the seating round the great fire, one rising upon Severus and Hermione’s entry to the room.

“So glad you could come.” Lucius walked over to the two, shaking Severus’ hand firmly and grasping his forearm. He had a smile somewhere between a smirk and an outright grin, which was probably as happy as his face could look. Another Slytherin thing, perhaps? Not to show any teeth? Hermione thought, hiding her own grin. “And you brought Miss Perri, as well. How delightful.”

He gave her a slight bow and a polite kiss to the air above her hand when she held it out to him. Then Severus held out his arm for her to take and Lucius gestured them toward the open seating by the fire. Lucius had been seated in a dark-red, velvet armchair and two other women were seated next to each other on a similarly coloured loveseat. The final figure sat in a high-backed chair closer to the fire, almost fully turned away from the group. A cane rested on the side of the chair, one she thought she had seen Lucius Malfoy carry in the far future.

Hermione recognized the women on the loveseat instantly, even though they were much younger. The one on the right could have been Lucius’s sister, with her similar elegant features and light blonde hair, however Hermione knew it to be his wife, having seen her at the Quidditch World Cup with Draco Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy sat regally, waiflike on the seat in a pale blue dress with flowing sleeves and skirt.

The woman on the left made a stark contrast to the thin society lady beside her. She was voluptuous, emphasized by her almost scandalously short red dress that was cut to draw attention to her cleavage. Her dark hair fell in curled ringlets around her, only serving to make her look more wanton and disheveled. Her lips were a deep red, matching her dress, and they were currently formed in a sulking pout. She slouched on the arm of the loveseat, leaning forward and exposing more of her breasts.

“Miss Anna Perri, my wife Narcissa and… her sister, Bellatrix Black.” Narcissa stood to greet Hermione, while Bellatrix gave a half-hearted snort and wave, still slumped over the arm of the loveseat in apparent boredom. Narcissa greeted Hermione with a quiet, “lovely to meet you” and a fragile smile, but Hermione felt the coldness of the look was not directed at her, but at embarrassment of her own sister’s attitude.

“My father, Abraxas…” Lucius gestured toward the lone figure by the fire, “…likes to sleep by the fire. He will perhaps join us for dinner.” Hermione realized that the man by the fire was asleep, a blanket on his lap to add additional warmth. Lucius could only be in his mid-twenties at most, but his father must have been much older.

They all sat and called for tea service as Severus and Hermione settled on a nearby loveseat. Severus placed his arm behind her on the seat, lightly stroking the small of her back. At first, the gesture helped calm her, but then she started to overthink how it would look.

“So, Miss Perri, I assume you are a seventh year like Severus? What are your plans after graduation and N.E.W.T.s?” Narcissa sipped at her tea after asking. Hermione held her teacup and saucer calmly on her lap, focusing on her breathing exercises to keep it from shaking.

“My post-graduation plans are still forming. I intend to stay in Britain, definitely, and I enjoy research. My best subjects are Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, though I find I’m quite preferable to Charms and Arithmancy. I was thinking about a research position at the Ministry, or possibly St. Mungo’s. I do have an interest in healing magic, though little formal training.”

“She is being unnecessarily modest,” Severus said. “She is quite adept at healing magic, evidenced by my presence tonight.”

“Oh ho!” Lucius looked surprised but pleased. “So, this is the transfer student you mentioned. You never mentioned before it was a woman who had assisted you with your little Russian problem.”

“What’s that?” Bellatrix started to perk up finally, sitting up and turning her head fully toward the visitors. She really was gorgeous when she wasn’t frowning and hunched over. “You had a run-in with one of the Soviets transferred to Hogwarts this year, Snapey?”

Hermione turned her head slightly to look at Severus, whose cheeks had turned a bit pink. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “I have been attacked more than once this year, a few times quite seriously. Miss Perri has healed me and been my protector and advocate against some of my rivals,” he continued seriously. “I owe her a great deal.”

Narcissa’s face took on a smile that was almost warm. “I am glad Severus invited you here, so we can thank you properly.”

“What did you say your name was again?” Bellatrix was fully invested now.

“Anna Perri,” Hermione replied politely. She raised her teacup to her lips to drink as Severus stroked her lower back again. He seemed more nervous than she expected him to be. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Bellatrix to be there.

“Never heard of you. Or your family.” Bellatrix said, looking Hermione up and down in evaluation. “Not a Wizarding name, is it? Perri?”

There was an audible intake of air.

Lucius’ smile stuck plastically on his face and his eyes twitched slightly, while Narcissa turned her head and hissed, “Bella!” under her breath. Severus stopped stroking her back and pressed the palm of his hand flat against her. Hermione could feel his arm muscles were taught.

“No,” Hermione said calmly, lowering the teacup. “My father is a muggle.”

“But you are a half-blood, then? Well of course, you’d have to be or Snapey wouldn’t dare bring you here, would he?” Lucius fully turned his head toward Bellatrix as she snorted. “Well, better than another option, I suppose. My cousin Regulus told me you were obsessed with a mudblood Gryffindor chit, but I suppose he was mistaken.” Bella sipped her own tea, as if this back and forth were part of a regular polite conversation.

Hermione felt herself tense further at the word, wondering if it was in reference to Lily or not. She could feel Severus’s hand trembling behind her back with what she suspected was rage, but the rest of his body and face remained composed.

“Bella,” Lucius called out, still wearing his thinly held smile and trying to hold her back in the politest way possible.

“So does that mean you’re in Slytherin or Ravenclaw at least?” Bella looked over at Hermione, quirking her head presumptuously.

“No,” Hermione said quietly. She was able to keep her composure better than she had expected. “I was sorted into Gryffindor this year.”

Bellatrix burst out laughing. Narcissa blanched even further, closing her eyes, and Lucius clenched his fists and uncrossed his leg, placing two feet firmly on the floor.

“I mistakenly thought you were moving up the world, Snapey,” she said as she finally slowed her laugh to a cackle.

“I see no reason to believe I have not. I consider her company to have elevated me substantially,” Severus replied through gritted teeth.

“But it’s only one Gryffindor for another, and only a mudblood up to a half-blood! Can’t even manage to bag a full witch then?”

Severus snarled and clenched the back of Hermione’s dress where his hand lay. “She’s twice the witch you’ll ever be, Trixie.”

Bellatrix gasped and jumped to her feet, furious. “Want to put that to the test?” Her eyes darted back and forth between Severus and Hermione.

“No!” Lucius barked out, standing and holding an arm out towards her. “Bellatrix,” he said coldly. “Do you need to be sent to your room like an errant toddler, or can I convince you to behave for our guests?”

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes further, but remained standing, hand at the ready to draw her wand.

“Bella,” Narcissa said quietly. “It’s Christmas.”

There was a momentary pause Bellatrix used to glare daggers at Snape before finally lowering herself back onto the loveseat.

Hermione chanced a glance over at the fire. It didn’t appear the outburst had disturbed Abraxas’ nap.

“Fine,” Bellatrix spat out after she slumped back down. “But I don’t ever want to hear that… name again.”

“Oh please,” Lucius said in a bored tone, resuming his seat as well. “You did start with the name calling. You can call him Snape or Severus if you want to be civil. As for Miss Perri-”

“Please, Anna is fine,” Hermione interjected.

Lucius smirked, Narcissa gave a small smile and a polite head nod. “You may call me Narcissa, or Cissy, as well.”

Severus had slowly relaxed his hand so it was no longer gripping the fabric of her dress. He was back to stroking her back by smoothing out the cloth he had just wrinkled.

Bellatrix snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Very well, a first name basis for everyone then,” Lucius said abruptly, trying to move on from the awkward moment.

Bella didn’t take the hint. “Such niceties. I don’t know why you bother, Cissy. I can’t stand all the aggrandizing through etiquette.”

“And how would you suggest aggrandizing then, Bellatrix?” Severus said stiltedly.

 “I thought the foundation of our political action was done to uphold our Wizarding traditions?” Lucius drawled.

“Wizarding traditions are upheld by making sure there are no other kinds. This can be done in a few ways…” Bellatrix gave a malicious grin. “If there are only wizards left, all the traditions are wizarding. Doesn’t matter how high-brow they are.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?” Hermione added, frowning in thought.

They all turned to look at her. Severus’ hand ceased its stroking momentarily.

She knew it was her know-it-all nature struggling to break free, as it had been so subdued during this school year, but she just couldn’t stop talking once she started.

“I just mean… if the only thing that makes a wizarding tradition worth preserving is that wizards practice it, it becomes meaningless. All you would need to do is have enough wizards adopt a muggle practice and it would become ‘wizarding’ simply because wizards do it. That’s a surer way to make sure anything you want to preserve dies out, as it would be no more distinctly ‘wizarding’ than any other practice. Rather, traditions should be evaluated on their own merits. If they stand the test of time and contribute positively to society, then they should be upheld.”

She was met with more silence, and she felt the eyes of everyone in the room boring into her. She didn’t dare look over at Severus. Bellatrix even looked more astounded than offended.

In for a penny… “I… I mean… some of the paintings in the foyer. They’re baroque. They’re beautiful pieces, but they don’t move. They’re muggle masterpieces. You’ve displayed them because of their beauty, not based on their origins.”

Lucius’ countenance changed. He frowned in thought, almost as if his face was saying, ‘ah yes, that’s right, they are’.

Bellatrix sneered. “Quite a mudborn attitude, wouldn’t you say-”

“Oh, do be quiet, Bellatrix!” A voice barked from chair by the fireplace. Hermione startled slightly and spilled a little of the tea from the teacup on her lap.

They all turned to see the figure remove the blanket from his lap, rise and grab his cane before turning to face the group. He was indeed a Malfoy, with long white-blond hair tied back behind his head. His age was denoted by some wrinkles on his forehead and a not-overly-pronounced receding hairline. Unlike Lucius, Abraxas had a goatee containing streaks of grey and silver mixed among the blonde.

“Miss Perri is quite right about the paintings. There are some Carravaggios and a Rembrandt, among others. As much as I enjoy it, wizarding art tends to be rather uninventive and has missed quite a few of the movements the muggles have gone through. When you have the gimmick of a moving and talking painting, you tend to stick too often to realistic portraiture.” Abraxas looked over at Bellatrix, haughtily. “I also enjoy the Impressionists. In the corridor outside your room there are Monets and Van Goghs, or had you forgotten?”

Bellatrix looked away, pouting and mumbling something.

“Well then,” the family patriarch directed, “Let’s go on to dinner, it should be ready by now.”

Hermione was guided out of the room on Severus’ arm. Abraxas led the party with his daughter-in-law on his arm, leaving Lucius to stiffly escort Bellatrix, as Severus and Hermione brought up the rear. As they walked, Severus leaned his head over to whisper softly in Hermione’s ear.

“Do you know how much I desire you? I wish I could strip you now, you fearless minx.” Hermione continued looking straight ahead but blushed in pride.

They made their way down the darkened hallway into a large dining room containing a massive table set with a feast fit for triple the people. There were all the holiday trappings to rival a Christmas at Hogwarts Castle and, despite the place they were, Hermione did feel slightly cheered by the warmth of the room and the delicious smells wafting up around her.

Dinner conversation was quiet and seldom, but not as stilted as previous, as the food seemed to help everyone’s disposition. Hermione had some roast duck, green beans, mushrooms, mash, and a few bites of many other good things besides. She didn’t want to overeat, but she tried a little of everything to be polite and ended up quite stuffed.

Over dinner, she learned that Bellatrix Black was engaged and would be married over the summer to Rodolphus Lestrange. The elder Blacks had died almost two years ago, and Bellatrix had been staying with the Malfoys since. Hermione had no idea why she would choose to, as there was still a Black estate somewhere (supposedly) and she didn’t seem to enjoy their company. Hermione figured that it was expected of her, some sort of pureblood standard of staying with family until marriage perhaps. Bellatrix seemed proud of the fact she was marrying into an established old blood family, even if she mentioned nothing particular about her fiancé.

When the topic turned to the pureblood lines, Severus was able to get a few mentions of the Dagworth-Grangers in (a line which had been presumed to have died out) and linked them, albeit distantly, to Hermione through her mother. Bellatrix had sniffed begrudgingly but seemed to allow that Miss Perri was enough of a half-blood to have a seat at the table, quite literally. After dessert, everyone was in a much better mood, and retiring back to the drawing room was no longer such a terrible notion. There had been elf-made wine at the table, after all, so there were a few more smiles and happier looks around the group members.

Abraxas bid the others good night, leaving the younger five to enter the drawing room again. Lucius suggested they split by gender for a little, pulling Severus with him to the parlor, presumably for a pipe and some firewhiskey.

Hermione was left with the other two then, Bellatrix flushed and a little too talkative from the wine. Narcissa and Hermione weren’t doing too badly at more polite conversation, especially since they shared a fondness of charmwork, when Bella seemed to have had enough.

“What I really want to know is if you’re Snape’s consort or we’re to expect a formal declaration anytime soon.”

Narcissa and Hermione turned to stare at her, and she laughed loudly, seemingly pleased with how many ways she could trample on the polite society setting.

“I…” Hermione didn’t know what she was supposed to say here. Severus had told her he was letting the other Slytherins believe she was only a consort to him, yet here he was bringing her to Christmas Eve dinner at the Malfoys. She didn’t know the way this all worked, hadn’t even known what a consort was til a month or so ago.

“Well, it has to be one or the other. Though I wouldn’t think it’d be very proper of him to bring a girl he’s practically shagging-”

“Bella,” Narcissa snapped, clearly having reached the limit for the evening. “You can open your present from me early. It’s on your bed.” She gave her an icy look.

Bellatrix gave a giggle and a sing-songy, “Yes, Cissy,” standing up and sashaying a little tipsily out of the room.

When the door was closed, both women breathed an audible sigh of relief. Noticing the mutual sign, they both looked at each other and smiled. Narcissa gestured for Hermione to join her on the loveseat and she did so, feeling somewhat drawn into the other woman’s confidence. They were both annoyed and offended by Bellatrix, a strong enough bond for the moment.

“You sure about this?” Lucius met him with an appraising look as he leaned back against the liquor cabinet.

“I already told you before I don’t drink.”

“Not that, Severus. Don’t be obtuse.”

Severus rolled his eyes and answered the question. “She is one of the most incredible women- perhaps the most incredible woman I have ever met. She’s secretly brilliant, I can see in class she knows all the answers and it’s difficult for her not to shout them all out, but she’s not a braggart like most of the other Gryffindors. I told you about the healing magic, too. She saved my life when she didn’t even know me, and she stepped in front of a Cruciatus for me when she did. I couldn’t… Lucius, I couldn’t… I have to at least try.”

“Oh Severus,” he chuckled, raising the glass to his lips and drinking a sip. “You do have it bad.”

Severus grimaced and turned away, his dark hair swinging. He couldn’t help but let the side of his mouth tick upward. He wasn’t too embarrassed then.

“What about… her political leanings?” His tone seemed casual, but Severus knew it to be anything but.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask her directly.”

“Ah, well, you know what they say about religion and politics in polite society.”

“Fair enough,” Severus said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well?”

“Undecided. I am trying to help on that end.”

“I see. How goes it?”

Severus shifted slightly and sighed. “You heard she has her own opinions about wizarding traditions, but certainly isn’t of a muggle attitude to eradicate what she deems ‘beneficial’. As for rallies, demonstrations… she has similar objections as Cissy, not wanting any involvement in violence. However, it has been good to see first-hand that our political opponents are not above using violence to get what they want, so she may see the necessity.”

Lucius nodded, taking another sip of his drink.

“Also, she’s deathly curious.”

Lucius smirked, understanding immediately. “You mean to introduce her to the dark arts then?”

“They are what intrigued me.”

Lucius did not speak for a while before finally asking the most important question. “And what does the Dark Lord say to all of this?”

“He… has yet to find out. I have the handler in agreement to support me when it comes time.”

“Well, no more to say on it for now then. Hopefully, I will be congratulating you when he does learn of her.”

“Thank you.”

“Come, let’s rejoin the ladies.”

They entered the drawing room together to find Bellatrix had gone to bed, and Hermione and Narcissa were sitting quite close. They were huddled together, Narcissa’s hands both clasped in Hermione’s. Narcissa was sniffling and trying to hide her face. Once they heard the other two enter, Narcissa quickly pulled her hands away and used them to rub tears away from her eyes and compose herself. Hermione stood, partially blocking Narcissa from view.

“Severus, I have a bit of a headache. If it’s alright to go now…”

“Of course.” Severus nodded, hiding his worry at the scene. “Cissy…”

“Yes,” Narcissa stood, composed now. “Yes, well, thank you so much for a lovely evening. Please bring Anna back to us again another time, Severus,” she said with a shaky smile.

Lucius bid his goodbyes as well, ushering Narcissa out the drawing room behind the leaving pair.

As Severus walked Hermione to the large double entrance doors, already held open for them, Lucius and his wife ascended the grand staircase. His hand on the small of her back again, Severus walked Hermione swiftly out of the manor, down the entry path, and apparated away.

“What happened?” Severus said worriedly as they entered Spinner’s End. Hermione smiled up at him, a little sad, but not at all worried.

“Oh nothing,” she said as they ascended the stairs. She held his hand as she walked up, leading him to the bedroom.

“Nothing?” He said after they’d entered the bedroom and closed the door. “It didn’t look like nothing! I’ve never seen Cissy cry before.”

Hermione snorted, removing the clip holding her hair up and shaking it out. “It’s fine. She needed a good cry, that’s all.”

Severus still looked somewhat horrified, and Hermione sighed, coming over to him and starting to undress him gently.

“You already knew they had trouble conceiving, Severus. What do you think that entails?” She said this patiently as she pushed his dress robes off his shoulders and moved to the buttons on his shirt.

“She was upset there wasn’t a child yet?”

Hermione’s fingers stilled on the second button down. “No… she was upset that there was a child.”

“Oh.” Severus’ brow furrowed.

Hermione bit her lip and cleared her throat, trying to prevent herself from becoming teary-eyed. She looked up at him, still smiling slightly, but shakily. “I’m surprised she opened up to me, but I’m glad she got it off her chest. She miscarried recently and it was still fairly raw for her. I don’t know how many there have been, but it wasn’t the first.” Hermione’s voice had lowered to a whisper.

“Why does it affect you so?” He whispered back, raising a hand to her chin and holding it gently.

“My mother had a lot of them herself. She would always tell me I was her miracle child.” Hermione had her hands on Severus’ chest and leaned into him even more. “She told me about how difficult it was to conceive when I was old enough to hear it. I think as a bit of a warning, that it might run in the family.”

Severus nodded blankly and moved his arms to encompass her and press her into his chest. It was unfamiliar territory for him. He hadn’t known anything about being wanted even after he was born, let alone before. It was a little difficult to wrap his mind around, but he had felt somewhat distressed at only seeing Narcissa’s tears, so he could understand this subject might be… uncomfortable.

“How… how did it come up?” He tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

How did she get Narcissa Malfoy to be so vulnerable? Does she have everyone under her spell?

Hermione choked out a little laugh, pulling away from his chest and looking up at him. “I don’t even know. We were talking about having and raising children. We were talking about that because we had just been talking about marriage and we were talking about that because…” Hermione trailed off, looking away. She pushed back from him and crossed her arms over her chest, walking away to look for her night clothes.

“Tell me, Hermione, please.”

“Because,” Hermione said, back turned to him, “Bellatrix asked if I was there because I was your consort or if there was… some other reason…” She rifled through her clothes, becoming frustrated she wasn’t finding what she was looking for immediately.

“Hermione,” he moved toward her, reaching her and holding her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder as she stood stiffly in his arms. “Hermione, you know you are more than a consort to me. I told you why I was bringing you tonight-”

“No,” she said quietly. “You didn’t.”

“I did! I wanted you to meet my family-”

“You wanted them to approve of me.” Her tone was hard to interpret. Almost accusatory.

“Yes!” He swiveled her around to face him, holding her shoulders and forcing her to look in his dark, black eyes. “Yes, I wanted them to approve of you, as I do. Lucius and Narcissa do approve of you and even Abraxas seems to like your taste in art.” He didn’t mention Bella because he didn’t care about her opinion at all.

Hermione looked at him doubtfully.

“What must I say to convince you?”

“That’s the thing, Severus. I don’t know what you’re trying to convince me of. I’m not a consort according to you, but it hasn’t escaped my notice that you… that you haven’t…” She blushed and looked away. “That we’ve only done the things consorts do with each other.”

Yes, virgin’s blood was a powerful connection between two people. He couldn’t ask for it unless she was sure… He had wanted to adopt the pureblood tradition in this matter. Yet, he didn’t want to quite tell her that yet. He was sure he would scare her away to talk about the joining of familial lines. That he was planning in such a long-term way so fast… She needed time to be wooed, she made that clear. He couldn’t overstep yet.

“Hermione…”

“But I don’t know what being your girlfriend entails. Publicly, we hide our relationship, privately you bring me to meet your… somewhat adopted family, but… but there’s no way we can continue on… because there’s no way they can approve of me, because of our differences…”

“No, no, Hermione, please listen to me-”

“It… it seems…” She swallowed and started shaking, tears falling down her cheeks. “It seems like I’m just a consort with a few romantic gestures and empty promises to keep me from leaving.”

Severus backed away as if she had struck him. “What?! How could you say that?”

“Be- because I have to! I have to- to be logical about-” She swallowed, clearly trying to keep her composure before finally cracking, though the tears were coming faster. “I told you not to- to make me promises!”

Hermione was sobbing now, tears running freely down her face, hiccupping and quite hysterical. This unnerving display is what kept Severus from storming out in anger, swallowing the bile that had formed in his throat.

She’s angry, upset, hearing about the miscarriage made her oddly emotional… she is a woman, they can be really fucking weird sometimes.

“I- I told you not to break my heart!” She sobbed, head in her hands.

Severus’ eyes widened and he rushed back to her, grabbing her tightly and backing her up toward the bed. He enfolded her in his arms and scooted backwards til they were resting on the pillows.

Her head was against his chest as she tried to slow down her sobs. He kissed the crown of her head, grabbing both sides of her head in his hands and kissing all around her face until he could get her to lift her head up to look at him. Once her face was raised, he kissed her cheeks one by one, down to her lips. Then, he spent a long time kissing her lips languidly until the crying turned into sniffles.

“Am I in danger of breaking your heart Hermione?” he murmured in a low voice, lips only a touch away from her face.

She whimpered, but didn’t open her eyes, still afraid to look at him.

“Oh, please say I am darling,” he rumbled, kissing her again and trying not to smile in happiness when she was so distraught. “I so want to be.”

Her eyes opened at that, and he finally did smile at her before kissing her lips again, still holding her head between his palms. When they finally came up for air, she had ceased crying for a while and was gazing up at him, enraptured.

He rested his forehead on hers as he spoke in a low, melodious tone. “I told you my intentions were to win your heart, to make you mine, and those have not changed. I would give you the world if I had but the world to give.”

Hermione blushed and gave him a small smile, her eyes shining.

Who else had ever, ever looked at him like that? Like he was… beautiful, even?

Still, she looked unsure. Hesitant. Worried about something.

“Wait here.” He kissed her lips quickly. “Don’t go anywhere.” Kiss. “I mean it.” He kissed her again before disentangling from her gently, leaving the room, and thumping quickly down the stairs. He was back from the basement within a minute, finding Hermione wiping her eyes and sitting up on the bed.

He came back to the bed and sat in front of her so that she had no choice but to face him.

“I give you my most prized possession, Hermione. The most valuable thing I own.” He placed something in her hands as he met her eyes fiercely. “This is proof of my intentions. Do not question my motives any longer.”

She looked down at her hands and saw the shining golden-yellow, orange, and red of the Firebird feather.

“You have been my protector, a sweet blessing to me,” he said softly, moving closer to her.

She looked up at him in wonder, meeting his dark eyes with her lighter ones.

“You are my Firebird,” he rumbled before kissing her heatedly

Chapter Text

The feather had been placed aside and the couple had gently kissed for a while before falling asleep in each other’s arms, still fully dressed.

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night on Christmas Day, went to the bathroom, and dressed in her nightclothes quietly so as not to wake Severus.

As she got back into bed, he mumbled in his sleep and pulled her back into the embrace of his arms.

The Firebird feather. He got it from Karkaroff, who didn’t seem to want to give it up at all, and he chose to give it to her?

She couldn’t help it. She had trouble going back to sleep, puzzling it out.

Hermione had suspected Severus was interested in the feather when Karkaroff first showed it off. A catalyst for spells and potions, he had said it was. Wasn’t Severus the potions and dark arts aficionado interested in such a rare item? He should especially be interested in it now that he had decided to pursue a potions mastery and the feather might be put to good use.

Yet he gave it to her.

My most prized possession, he had said. Proof of my intentions.

Hermione had been wrong and overly emotional to demand such proof from him, she knew it. It made no sense to do so, to ask him to make promises to her, not when she knew the relationship was due to failure in one way or another. It was completely irrational to ask it, yet she craved his stated devotion to her. Yes, the relationship must be bound to fail due to the inalterable property of time, however, Hermione was fearful it would fail because he could never care for her in any long-term way. He would love Lily far more. Therefore, he must have been insincerely using her for temporary pleasure. It was all the logical conclusion, you see. Hermione had only logic left to fall back on when she was so hopelessly romantic in her feelings.

Yet he gave it to her.

Hermione bit her lip in the dark. It was a puzzle, for sure. There were a few possibilities.

One, that Severus was lying. She didn’t think this was the case.

Two, that Severus was sincere, but was inconstant, as other teenagers were. That, or Hermione was not beautiful or worthy enough to hold his attention. This possibility she thought was more likely than the first, and she dreaded the veracity of it regularly, a large source of her insecurities.

Three, that circumstances would drive them apart. Also likely, as she was growing uncomfortable with the delicate balance of supporting Severus without encouraging Death Eater activities. She would not have the same issue as much in the future, but for now, Severus was not convinced of the need to switch sides.

Fourth… was there a fourth possibility?

Severus snored lightly beside her as he held her from behind. The warmth of his body was comforting, making Hermione want to ignore her internal thoughts. That’s how it had been when she was with him; she struggled to even think about how this wasn’t meant to be, especially since every aspect of it felt so right.

Fourth…

It’s possible that the only thing that would separate them was time. She had to return to 1997, after all, and she couldn’t appear to be 20 years older.

Hermione didn’t put this as the most likely choice. This possibility didn’t answer the Lily question. For Severus Snape would love Lily Evans Potter, and that was the only reason Hermione traveled back in time to begin with. She had to save Lily for him to love because in so doing, Severus would devote himself to defeating Voldemort and protecting Harry Potter.

And they would win, in the end. She did learn that.

Perhaps she could love Severus after it was all over. They could start over. Maybe he could look back on this time fondly and use the memories to get over Lily, or at least love her a little less and Hermione a little more.

Hermione sighed, finally allowing her body to go back to sleep.

“It’s Christmas Day, gorgeous,” Severus rumbled softly in her ear. He held her tightly in place as she started to squirm and began kissing under her ear, down her exposed neck.

He heard a slight gasp from her, and she arched into his lips, allowing him to kiss downward until her nightshirt got in the way.

“You changed,” he chuckled. “Here I am, still in clothes from last night. You never properly got me out of them, remember?”

“We- we were tired.” She yawned before opening her eyes.

Severus stared down at her, black eyes shining with desire.

“Happy Christmas,” he said in a low growl. “May I open my present?” He raised an eyebrow and let his eyes sweep languidly down before rushing back to meet hers again.

Hermione blushed and grinned. The grin quickly became a delighted laugh as he hurriedly removed her shirt.

“Ah yes, what a lovely present. Two lovely presents, in fact.” Hermione gasped as he held her breasts, one in each hand, firmly massaging them and examining them. “Wonderful shape, perfect size…” He pressed them with his hands, pretending to weigh and evaluate his presents while also stimulating Hermione.

“Ohhhh!”

It was an odd little game, but if his voice and approving mannerisms were enough to get her this wet, she had no objection.

“They even come with two smaller succulent parts that complement the form.” He had begun pinching and twisting her nipples, causing her to arch into him. “Yes… I quite like these,” he rumbled heatedly.

She tried to speak before Severus began kissing down her chest and eagerly sucking on one of the exposed nipples. She arched further up into his mouth instinctively and her hands threaded through his hair. An ache began to pool in her lower abdomen. She writhed as he let out a low moan onto her breast before releasing it with a wet pop.

“Sweet taste,” he said, still reviewing his gift. “Next.”

He moved to the other breast, giving it similar attention, laving it with his tongue before sucking the nipple hard into his mouth. Hermione moaned, her lower body pressing upwards to rub against him. She began to tug at his shirt, starting to undo the first few buttons despite the awkward angle.

His head came up away from the breast. He smirked in pride to see her lust displayed so blatantly on her face.

“Delectable.” He lazily flicked the nipple with his long finger, and she inhaled in pleasure. “May I open another?”

Hermione nodded frantically and pushed his hands downward to her sleep shorts. He was certain to remove them slowly, his palms firmly pressing over her arse cheeks and his thumbs on her hips as he slid the soft fabric down and off her legs.

She gasped as he kissed his way down, but her lust-addled brain figured out what was happening as he continued kissing and licking and she stiffened, pushing his head up and trying to pull him back up.

“What? What’s wrong?” He said worriedly, looking at her with a startled frown.

“I- I want to kiss you.” She pulled him back up and kissed him on the lips, waiting until he relaxed and returned her kisses before she grabbed his hand and moved it between her legs.

She was curious about what his mouth would feel like below her waist, but embarrassment had overruled lust for now. What if she smelled? What if he hated it and she would be mortified at his reaction? What if he disliked it but felt obligated to perform the act? What if-

“Unnnh!” She moaned into his mouth.

His fingers had made quick work at her sex, helping her clear her mind. He was a quick study, the anatomy of his long, nimble digits only aiding him. He had a pianist’s hands, but he preferred playing her to perfection.

“Wet, so hot and wet,” he murmured into her neck as she shuddered on his hand. He pumped two fingers in and out of her, moving the palm of his hand to press firmly on her clit as the fingers thrust. “You are so…uhhh…so fucking delicious.” He kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin of her neck as she panted.

She reached over to feel him through his trousers as he continued to pleasure her. He was very hard though she had hardly touched him. He thrust against her hand and groaned beneath her ear.

“Fuck, Hermione,” he grunted. She tugged at his trousers, trying not to obstruct his hand from its important work. She got the trousers and pants down just enough to expose him and allow her to wrap her hand around his length. With a tight grip she began pumping him quickly, encouraging him to speed up the rhythm of his own hand.

“Yessss,” he hissed. He quickly pulled his hand away from her, causing her to whimper until she felt his fingers pushing her folds back and rubbing her clit directly.

“Sev- Severus!” Her body shook violently and she felt fluid trickle between her legs. Her hand continued to grip him tightly, but she momentarily was unable to move it up and down correctly. Despite her shaking, Severus didn’t remove his hand and continued to stimulate her, occasionally dipping his fingers into her core, making his fingers wet and smearing her own juices on her clit.

“Shit, it feels so good!” She had just come and he was already getting her so close again, refusing to let up despite her quivering. Her whole body was on fire, throbbing with pleasure. It felt so potent she could weep in frustration.

“Come again, my sweet. You are so beautiful when you come,” he moaned this revelry into her ear as she whimpered beside him. “My goddess, you fucking incredible woman. Do you know how long I have waited for you? Do you know-”

“Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhh yes! YES YES FUCK SEVERUS YES!” Hermione felt a tear slip past her cheek as she jerked into his hand, a larger amount of fluid rushing out of her. She had trouble catching her breath but forced his hand away from her so she could slow the spasms of orgasm.

She felt Severus chuckle delightedly above her, and she looked up at him. He had greedily watched her face contort in ecstasy and continued to stare at her. Meeting his eyes, she gripped his cock firmly and watched him back as she pumped, stroked, and twisted her hand fiercely up and down in retaliation, desperate to please him back.

First his face stiffened and his mouth shut tightly as if he were annoyed. After a few more moments, however, it became clear he was trying to hide his vulnerability from her gaze. His face quickly crumbled into a look of overwhelmed lust. His mouth slack, his eyes lidded and rolling slightly back.

She watched him as he thrust a few more times into her hand, finally closing his eyes, moaning her name, and spurting his seed onto the sheets between them.

They spent a few moments breathing deeply and catching their breaths.

“I want to, you know,” he said quietly after some cleansing spells and shuffling completely out of his shirt.

“Hmmm?” She said sleepily, cuddling into his embrace.

“Nevermind,” he mumbled. “When you’re ready.”

 Later, after some more rest and getting somewhat dressed, they exchanged their actual presents.

Severus had gotten her an arithmancy book she had wanted, as well as a charm bracelet in the same metal as her sapphire pendant. It had a few charms relevant to her. A witch’s hat, a pizza to represent Italy, a dragon to represent Romania (where her parents were supposedly staying), and a pile of books for either Hogwarts or her own personality.

“This is wonderful and so thoughtful!”

“There are only a few on there. I didn’t want to clutter it with unimportant things.”

She smiled and gave him a hug and a lingering kiss. “I’ll have to get one to represent you!” She laughed. “Maybe a lion and a serpent to add?”

He smiled. “Perhaps.”

Hermione had decided to hold off on Jane Eyre, and she only presented him with the Occlumency books. At first, she thought he hadn’t liked them. He stared at the books in near shock for a bit before pouncing on her.

“I will read them, devour them, I promise. I will not let you down.”

Hermione let out a startled laugh, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Severus? What do you mean?”

“You… you mean me to…” He looked away. “You will finally trust me.”

Hermione’s face wiped clear of expression and paled instantly. “What- what are you talking about?”

“Hermione… I know there are things you fail to tell me because you fear I will… I will be forced to disclose them.” Severus stared her down fiercely with his dark eyes. “I will learn to keep your secrets, Hermione, I swear it.”

She nodded numbly and he pulled her back into his embrace.

What does he suspect? What does he know?

Christmas and Boxing day were spent leisurely and comfortably, just as the days beforehand had been. A few days after Christmas, Severus had appeared jittery at breakfast.

“We’re going out tonight,” he told her with a shit-eating grin that made her stop in confusion, teacup partway to her mouth. When was the last time he’d looked so excited?

“Alright…” She said suspiciously. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“We’re going to see a film. It’s a premiere.”

Oh, this was definitely piquing her curiosity. “You’ve been planning this for a while.”

He shrugged nonchalantly before smirking widely. “It’s created a lot of buzz. Been out in the States for months, but only just premiering here now. We’ll be able to walk there, it’s not far.”

Hermione had a difficult time making it through the picture without giving anything away, but it was a lot of fun to watch it with an audience who were themselves seeing it for the first time.

That evening, they exited the building along with the crowd of chatting moviegoers who had just viewed one of the most groundbreaking films of all time. Severus still looked enthralled and once they were alone, he spun around in the cold air, his black coat making a sweeping arch as he imitated holding a long weapon. Snowflakes fell lightly around them in the darkness.

Hermione laughed in delight, so glad to see him carefree like this.

“Well?” He pressed her. “What did you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know… you remind me of one of the characters.” She made a cheeky face. “You know, the affinity for black, the dramatic entrances, the sheer power…”

Severus glared at her, causing her to giggle loudly. “I don’t know what you mean by the dramatic entrances. That we both like the colour black is hardly enough of a likeness. I’m no Darth Vader.”

“Oh really? Who do you think you’re more like?”

“Please. Orphan boy seeks his destiny-”

Hermione erupted into giggles, and she felt snow hit her cheek. Severus had thrown some new-fallen snow at her in protest.

“Can’t I be the hero?”

“Of course you can, Severus. I just don’t really see you as a Luke Skywalker type.”

He scowled. “He rescues the princess, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, well… I think the princess has a lot more chemistry with Han Solo. He’s a lot better looking than Luke in my opinion.” Hermione was holding back a lot of her laughter, actually, as she knew how this plot ended.

“Hmmmph.”

“Oh, don’t be sour, Severus.” Hermione caught up to him and grabbed his glove-covered hand, smiling brightly up at him. “I bet the princess will notice Han Solo eventually, no matter how grumpy he is,” she teased.

Severus kept his scowl, but she saw the tiny uptick on the side of his mouth and she burrowed into his side as they walked back to his house.  

“Send Miss Dalton in, Delia.”

“Yes, Mr. Sterling.”

The short, plump witch in the pencil skirt exited the room and returned a few minutes to hold the door for another. A tall, blonde woman with short, cropped hair entered the room as the shorter witch held the door open for her. She was wearing a blue cardigan over a white blouse and some dress slacks under a grey traveling cloak. She appeared nervous. The secretary, Delia, nodded to the man at the desk and closed the door behind her.

“How do you do, Miss Dalton?” He shook her hand briskly before taking his hand away. “Please take a seat.” The man gestured to a comfortable armchair facing the desk.

The desk and the man were similarly scraggy and disheveled, though it appeared to be in a purposeful way, not an accidental one. He was on the shorter side of average height and wore small pince-nez glasses perched on his nose. His mustache and beard hung down to give his head a longish look and he greatly resembled a greying Scottish terrier. He wore a tweed suit to complete the look of an eccentric classics’ professor from Oxford.

His desk held multiple small stacks of books and papers, as well as a few different tiny clocks and pocket watches. The piles were small enough to see over easily when he sat, but large enough to take over the entirety of the workspace. A faint ticking noise was heard coming from the desk when no one spoke, but it was not overly distracting.

Miss Dalton sat down gingerly.

“Thucydides Sterling, but you remember that from the letter I sent, I’m sure. I go by Cyd, which you can call me once you start working here.” The man cleared his throat, looked down over his pince-nez and pulled a parchment from one of the stacks. “Have a good Christmas, Boxing Day?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied quietly.

“Ah, well I know it’s not quite New Year’s, but I wanted to get you in before Hogwarts was back in session. I was hoping to have you sign a contract now.” Sterling hadn’t looked up from the parchment.

“Now?” She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “B-but… I am quite thankful for the opportunity, sir, but I do need to finish out the last semester at Hogwarts and complete my N.E.W.T.s before I can start full time work.”

“You’ll do that, rest assured.” He waved his hand a bit impatiently, still failing to glance up from the parchment. “However, I think it’s safest to start the contract now due to confidentiality requirements. You’ll have to sign this first.”

He held out the parchment and she looked at it.

I, the undersigned, consent to targeted obliviation if I refuse the employment offer presented to me by the Ministry official present. A trained obliviator will remove my memories of only the interview and offer process, and I will be evaluated by a representative at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries afterward to ensure no lasting damage has occurred.

“I… what?”

“I apologise, Miss Dalton, but I cannot discuss this with you any further until you sign below. You are within your rights to decline the position, but you are consenting to obliviation if you do refuse. You must agree to these terms before you hear the offer.”

Her eyes widened, but she took only a fraction of a second before taking the quill Sterling handed her and signing her name. The parchment rolled up and popped away to be filed somewhere.

“Perfect.” Sterling smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but grin back. “I suppose you know what this means?”

“I was wondering, sir. When they told me the interview had been moved, and to this floor…”

“Yes. You are being offered a position as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries.” This was said with a little smile, but also a bit of a nonchalant shrug. “Here is your employment contract. For Unspeakables, the standard contract is 20 years. It does tie you down for a while, but you’re young and you can retire pretty early. The pension is quite generous.”

He handed her a large scroll and she took her time reading through it. He patiently waited, looking at a few of the watches on his desk. When she finished, she looked up at him.

“Any questions?”

“Er… who can I tell?”

“You may say the same thing you were previously told, that you work for the Department of Magical Transportation. They will have you in the books as a contractor, and if you opt to be obliviated, I’m sure we can find you a position there without difficulty. There are Ministry employees who will be able to figure out from your movements that you are an Unspeakable, but nothing will be confirmed outside of this Department.”

“And… if I change my mind? It is a 20-year commitment. What if I do five years and decide I’ve had my fill?”

“Doubtful. No one ever wants to leave.”

She frowned at him, and he chuckled. “No, no that’s good that you’re skeptical. A sharp mind is all well and good, but you need to have discernment.” He cleared his throat and scratched at his beard. “It’s still true that leaving is unheard of; however, if you did want to leave, we could transfer you somewhere inside the Ministry. If you held too much information to obliviate, you would probably have to perform an unbreakable vow that you would not disclose the nature of your work.”

“Am I not held to an unbreakable vow while inside the Department?”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “No. We used to do that, but it became too problematic. In the 30’s, someone with a guilty conscience thought he implied too much to his wife and… well, he didn’t really give anything away, but we decided it’d be best not to go killing off our best employees if they happened to second guess themselves. Needless to say, we have other methods of ensuring your compliance and they are equally severe.”

“And… this contract doesn’t say what exactly I’ll be working on.”

“Ah, well you haven’t signed the contract yet.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips in slight agitation. “How would I know if I enjoy the work? I have no idea what I’d be committing to.”

“You’ll be exploring one of the mysteries of the universe, Miss Dalton. It’s your decision.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and lifted the quill again before pausing. “What about Anna Perri?”

Thucydides Sterling shifted slightly in his seat. “Yes?”

“I was told that she…” Miss Dalton swallowed. “Your initial letter said that she was also being evaluated for the Department of Transportation, and it might be prudent to see if we could work amicably as colleagues in the future.”

“What do you think?”

“We get along quite well. She’s bright, studious, principled…” She turned a light shade of pink. “I don’t foresee any problems.”

“Did you mention any of this to Miss Perri? Our evaluating her?” Sterling furrowed his bushy brows and frowned, his pince-nez falling slightly.

“No, no. I even offered to get her an interview. She has no idea that I know.”

“Good,” he said a bit sharply. “Miss Dalton, I cannot discuss anything else with you until you sign the contract.”

She looked at him hesitantly, still holding the quill in mid-air. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. Her mouth held in a firm, determined line, she lowered the quill to the parchment and signed her name.

Thucydides Sterling raised his wand, popping the contract out of existence to be filed, just as the other parchment had been. Another wave and the door slammed open, causing Miss Dalton to jump out of her seat.

“Delia!” The short, plump secretary appeared at the door. “No obliviation today. Let St. Mungo’s know they don’t need to send someone.” Delia smiled and nodded. As she left quickly, Sterling slammed the door shut again with another wand wave. Miss Dalton slowly lowered herself back into her chair.

“Now, Miss Dalton, I can tell you- do you… it’s Elpida, yes? Can I call you Elpida, now that we’re colleagues?”

“Of course,” she said with a small smile. “I go by Ellie as well.”

“Ah, perfect. The long Greek names do need some short nicknames, I quite agree. I’m Cyd, you’re Ellie, that’s that. Ahem. Now that you’re hired,” he said excitedly, grabbing a large stack of papers on his desk and standing up excitedly, “we discuss your project.”

He walked around to her side of the desk and conjured another armchair to sit beside her, pulled up. He handed her a small scrap of parchment.

Experiment #394: Time-Return Message

Subject Anna H. Perri graduated Hogwarts class of 1978. Subject alias Hermione J. Granger born 1979. Subject contract to start Friday, April 7, 1978.

Lead Time Experimenter,

Elpida E. Dalton

Sent May 21, 1987

“You’re a little young to be the lead experimenter now, but I suppose you’ve worked your way up by 1987.” Cyd said, eyes directed toward the ceiling in casual thought.

Elpida had her face stuck in a permanent frown as she read and reread the parchment.

“Lead Time Experimenter?” She said finally.

“Yes, you’ll be working in our time department studying time travel. I received this a few months ago, after which you got your letter from me attempting to recruit you for the job. If your interest hadn’t panned out now, I would have assumed that Perri simply started working here before you did.”

“Subject…” The frown hadn’t left her face yet. “Subject Anna H. Perri…”

“Yes, you are to be one of the Time Experimenters and she will be your subject.”

“I’m sorry, I… I’m really having trouble understanding.”

“You will be studying and experimenting with time and Miss Perri…or perhaps, Miss Granger, is your subject. She is a time-traveler.”

Chapter Text

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night to discover Severus was not there. They had fallen asleep earlier than normal that evening after he had massaged her into a puddle of limbs and they had pleasured each other into a lazy slumber. They hadn’t thought to do anything particularly interesting that night, even though it was New Year’s Eve.

Only a few hours into New Year’s, she’d woken up to find him gone.

A Patronus was out of the question, she knew as she paced the room nervously, a blanket wrapped around her. She didn’t know for certain, but she feared that she was exactly right about where he was, and it was nowhere she should send a patronus.

It was nearly dawn when he arrived home. Hermione was sitting numbly in one of the armchairs by the fire, half-awake, and startled when he entered the room.

“Her- Hermione,” he whispered, partway through removing his boots when he noticed she was by the fire and not in bed. He hopped as he tugged the other boot off sloppily before striding over to her and kneeling before her in the chair. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to wake you-”

“You had me worried sick!” She had bitten teeth marks into her lip and there were bags under her eyes. “Where did you go?”

He was silent, not meeting her eyes.

“It’s true then,” she said stiffly, tightening the blanket around her. “You were called away for a meeting.” Her tone was accusatory.

Severus brought his eyes back to hers and nodded once.

“Tell. Me.” She glared at him.

“We’ve discussed this,” he muttered. “I can’t tell you everything.”

“How did they call you away?” Hermione whispered down at him furiously, like a queen on her throne as her servant knelt before her. “An owl? The floo? Some other secret…” She trailed off. No, she had only just seen him naked. He had no mark yet.  

“It was… prearranged.”

Hermione jumped to her feet, pushing the chair back. “You knew ahead of time and got me to bed early!”

“Hermione-”

“You deceived me! You meant to hide from me that you were gone at all! You would have snuck in and had me none the wiser!”

“No! No- I- damn.” He got to his feet, running a hand through his black locks in frustration. “No. I only meant to let you sleep and not to worry you. You would have gotten even less sleep than you clearly did. I just wished to save you some stress in wondering after me.”

“You should have left a note!” Hermione bit her lip again, her light brown eyes beginning to water involuntarily. “Severus, I was! I was worried.”

“I know,” He walked over to her and folded her into his arms. She choked a muffled sob into his chest as he rested his chin on her head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

After a few patient moments, he grunted.

“Please finish scolding me in bed. I’m bone tired.”

She huffed and pushed him lightly, but moved to the bed, slowly undressing him until he was as naked as she under the blanket. Hermione lay silently, head pillowed between his chest and his shoulder, waiting for him to say something further.

He sighed. “I do want to sleep.”

“And I want to not worry.” She could tell he was getting exasperated with her, but she was still a bit petulant.

“I can’t tell you much. Just… I’ve been reassigned.”

“Go on,” she said, stroking her hand against his chest hair.

“I was supposed to be in recruitment, but… it was a shit assignment. I succeeded in recruiting the one name I was given that I’d have had any chance at, only he’s younger so it’s still not seen as that much of a win.”

“Who?”

He paused but didn’t think he needed to hide it from her, apparently. “Black.”

Hermione’s hand paused its movement and he exhaled in frustration. “Gods, the younger Black, Hermione. I’m not a complete imbecile.”

“Oh, right.” She snuggled back into his embrace. “You aren’t in trouble with him, are you?”

He understood her immediately. “Define… in trouble.”

“Oh, Severus…” She didn’t try to hide the worry in her voice.

“Not for now. The handler is in far more trouble-”

“Handler?” Hermione kept stroking his chest casually, but her mind was absorbing everything he told her and cataloging it for later.

“The one who gives our assignments. My failure is seen as the handler’s mistake for now and my assignment has been changed from recruitment to… something else. Regulus will probably recruit from now on, he’s charming enough.”

“What is the something it’s been changed to?”

“I… I can’t tell you.” Hmmm, that’s interesting, she thought. Was he scared about this assignment? Unsure?

“Is it dangerous?” She asked, turning her head up to him.

“Not necessarily.” He swallowed, squeezing her tightly with the arm he had wrapped around her. “However, I do dread beginning work on it. It may keep me busy this semester and I will miss our time together.”

“Our time?” Her brow furrowed in worry.

“I will need to use the changeable room on the 7^th floor. We cannot meet there any longer. The library will have to do.”

After sleeping New Year’s Day away, it was time to return to Hogwarts in the mid-afternoon, as the first was a Sunday and classes began Monday morning. They apparated to the Hogsmeade station around the correct time so they could just be bustled through the gates with the students returning via train. Severus squeezed Hermione’s hand quickly and gave her a searing look before slipping away to see the other Slytherins.

She hadn’t spotted the other girls yet, but perhaps they were also apparating back. She shuffled silently into the castle, lost in the crowd. A few classmates gave a friendly wave, but she didn’t know most of the students. Better that way.

Slughorn greeted her as Miss Parrott as she passed him in the entrance to the Great Hall. She grinned, seeking out Severus at that moment as she wanted to recount it to him. She spotted him whispering to Evan Rosier. His back was turned to the head table, so he didn’t notice Karkaroff glaring daggers at him. Hermione narrowed her eyes and filed that information away for later.  

The Hall was still adorned in Christmas decorations, despite being New Year’s Day. Large fifteen-foot trees at the two corners behind the head table, dimmed fireplace style lighting and bright twinkling lights and candles floating high above the students’ heads.

Finding her way to the Gryffindor table, she greeted Arabella, Marlene, and Marina with a wide grin and some quick questions about the holidays. There were a few comments about the late-hanging decorations and some giggles about which professor had gotten lazy at removing them. Lily and James slipped into their seats on the bench a few people away just as Dumbledore cleared his throat to make announcements before the meal.

“Welcome back to Hogwarts! I hope you all have had a fine time, either here at Hogwarts or away with family and friends.”

“Now, it is time to announce the new events I mentioned would take place this school year. They begin in this new term, as we hope our new students have now acclimated to our regular schedules.” Dumbledore inclined his head toward the Ravenclaw table where most of the transfer students were housed. Hermione spotted Ellie and Callie as she glanced in that direction.

“These special events will take place only in the next few months, one each in January, February, and March, as I am told from April on we may not disturb the studying for exams. That is, not more than the regular quidditch matches, vendor weekends, and easter holidays do already.” He smiled brightly and there were a few titters around the hall.

“Our first event takes place later this week.” The hall was instantly silent, the students shocked that they would get some exciting happening so soon into term. “As most, if not all, of our transfer students hail from countries in which Christmas is celebrated in January, we shall have a special Christmas celebration this Saturday, the 7^th. As such… this Friday, being Christmas Eve, is a holiday. There shall be no classes held that day.” Laughter, clapping, and cheers, as all immediately understood the implication. Friday off of classes to begin the term!

Dumbledore held up his hand to quiet the students. “In the same vein, these countries also have a different Easter date than we have. While we cannot give an additional Easter break, as the one you have is already two weeks, there will be a Friday and Monday free of classes at the end of April. I am told these may be used as study days for some of you, which would be a wise decision.” Dumbledore peered over his glasses as he looked the students over sternly. “However, the Heads of House will hear requests for a weekend pass to go away if desired. Our second Easter Sunday there will be a traditional lamb feast, so you may want to stay the weekend here for the delicious food.”

When Dumbledore paused, there were further whoops from the students, especially loud from the Ravenclaw table.

“Thank God for these Soviets,” she heard James comment, grinning and clapping. She couldn’t help but smile fondly at him, her heart hurting a little. He looked so much like Harry.

“Our next special event shall take place in February. To ease our winter doldrums, Hogwarts shall host a Saint Valentine’s Day Ball.” Shrieks of excitement echoed from the girls in the Hall and Dumbledore had to pause again. He did not seem too put out, however, smiling delightedly at being the cause of joy.

“And finally, in March we shall have a very special vendors’ weekend. As the students have greatly enjoyed our Trivia questions for butterbeer exchange with the Three Broomsticks, we have reached an arrangement with the other purveyors to up the ante, should we say. There shall be a trivia contest held and the winner shall receive a credit of 100 galleons to the Hogsmeade shop of their choice.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows as excited whispers rushed around her. That was around 500 pounds if she had her calculations right, which had to go a long way 20 years earlier.

There was some loud conversation coming from the other tables. This arrangement would certainly appear to favour the Ravenclaws, but it was anyone’s game.

“And with those bits of information to titillate your conversation, let dinner be served!”

It did certainly add to the conversation. Hermione was glad to steer any talk away from what she did over the break, as she hadn’t coordinated her story with Ellie yet. She settled for asking the other girls questions about themselves. Thankfully, they fell for the ruse, chattering on about their own holidays and quite forgetting to reciprocate.

“I took James to meet my sister and her fiancé,” Lily told the girls with a sigh. “It was actually completely awful. Tuney told him about magic, but without too many details, so he’s convinced we all do cheap card tricks for a living.” Lily grimaced and drank a sip of sparkling pumpkin juice before continuing. “It was nice having James with my parents though,” she said quietly. “They’ve relocated now, so I can’t talk about specifics, but it was a nice time.”

The other girls chimed in, happily contributing with their holiday happenings. Hermione tried the Ron trick of keeping her mouth full at all times so that even when Arabella glanced her way and opened her mouth, appearing to ask about her plans, Hermione could wave her off by frowning and pointing at her closed mouth.

Dinner ended much sooner than she anticipated, but thankfully, Ellie pulled her aside just outside the Great Hall.

“We need to coordinate our stories,” she hissed at her. “Follow me.”

Hermione obediently followed the taller blonde girl a few doors down to an empty part of the corridor where they could speak. Ellie told Hermione a little bit about her cousin Nadine and what they had done over the holidays so that she would have some tidbits to throw in to conversation.

“What about Snape?” Ellie said finally. Her blue eyes were narrowed almost suspiciously at Hermione, as if trying to read her expression for whatever she was holding back.

“We’re… we’re still close.” Ellie folded her arms across her chest impatiently. “Well, I… I can’t tell you much,” Hermione frowned slightly as she spoke. “I do have some hints but they aren’t confirmed yet. We can’t do anything to act until we get more direct information.”

It was getting really difficult for her to keep up with all the social dynamics. Back in her own time, this was easy. She could tell Harry and Ron everything. Okay… she could before… before Severus.

Hermione straightened, met her friend’s eyes, and attempted to sound as confident as she could. “I can’t tell you everything yet. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Ellie twitched, as if she was about to scowl but was trying to hold it back. She closed her eyes and pinched her brows together. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, fine, I said. Okay. I trust you.” She sounded like Ron did when there wasn’t any pudding after supper.

“You don’t sound very convincing,” Hermione tried to laugh lightheartedly, but only managed a lopsided smile before biting her lip.

“I do! I don’t have to like it, but I do.” Ellie uncrossed her arms and passed Hermione, before Hermione turned around herself and tried to stop her.

“Wait! Ellie! Did- did you find anything out?”

“About what?” Ellie only half turned.

“Maybe… about Callie?”

That made the other girl sigh and turn back fully. “Look, she’s a bit odd, acts cagey, but I understand the reasoning. I put you both on the same level. Trust you, just don’t know what to do with you.”

“I just still don’t think she’s above board-”

“Look,” Ellie said firmly, “I know how it looks, but she’s ironclad.” Ellie held back a little scowl again. “I can’t tell you everything yet. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Chapter Text

The next week went by rather quickly despite the fact that Hermione didn’t see Severus at all outside of classes. It seemed like they just missed each other in the library each time, and after a few days Hermione was getting both nervous and miffed that he didn’t want to see her. On Thursday evening, she was reassured simply by finding a copy of “Medicinal Herbs in Potion Use” on their usual table. It was bookmarked with a scrap of parchment with one word in a familiar scrawl.

Soon.

On Friday, Christmas came for the second time and the Eastern European themed feast for the transfer students was a smashing success.

There were all sorts of meat dishes, cheese dishes, pastries and candies. Liberal amounts of butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and something called kvas filled the mugs on the tables and Hermione suspected there was plum brandy snuck into a few glasses as well.

The tables were set up quite differently now. While there were usually few students remaining over Christmas at Hogwarts and it was intimate enough for everyone to share one dinner table, staff included, now the entire student body was here for the feast. So, to break up the usual house divisions for the holiday, there were seven smaller tables in the Great Hall, parallel to the Head Table. Students were encouraged to “mingle and forego house rivalries in the spirit of our Christmas feast”, according to the headmaster. This meant that the Slytherins kept entirely to themselves and everyone else mingled a little bit, with the Hufflepuffs being the most adventurous in trying out new seating arrangements.

Hermione noted that one Slytherin did not keep with the others; now that she knew of his “assignment”, it made sense that Regulus Black was doing his best to ingratiate himself to non-Slytherins. She spotted him sitting with a group of sixth-year Ravenclaw transfers attempting to learn the lyrics to a Russian drinking song. He was doing it rather badly, but good-naturedly allowing the other boys to rib him and laugh at his paltry attempts and getting grins and friendly hand grasps for his efforts.

The group of library girls naturally congregated together, as there were no Ravenclaw-Gryffindor divisions for this meal. After a few minutes, talk turned to future plans. After all, it was now the second half of seventh year. There had to be some plans made.

“Well, Marlene doesn’t want to brag,” Marina chimed in, “but she’s being scoped by the Holyhead Harpies! So don’t be surprised if you don’t see much of her the next few months. She might be sleeping on the Quidditch pitch if there isn’t a practice.”

“That’s so great, Mari!” Lily cried, and the other girls nodded and chatted enthusiastically. “What about you, Ellie? You going to look into Quidditch too? You don’t even have to compete with Marlene for an all-female team if you want to travel. I think there’s a ladies team in the States.”

Ellie shook her head. “Actually, I received a full offer with the ministry. I’d have to fail all my N.E.W.T.s for them to rescind it as I’ve already signed the contract. I’ll be with the Department of Transportation.”

“Congratulations!” Lily said enthusiastically. “I know you mentioned it was conditional before break, but it sounds finalized at this point.”

“Transportation?” Marina frowned. “That’s like Floo and stuff?”

Ellie nodded. “Floo, broomstick, apparition, any specially approved methods you’d need a permit for.”

Hermione noticed Callie’s puzzled frown, but it quickly melted to a more neutral expression.

“I could get you an interview if you like,” Ellie said. “You too, Annie, if you haven’t decided yet.” Hermione smiled and nodded noncommittedly. She’d gotten so used to going by Hermione over the break with Severus, the alias was hard to get used to again.

“Sorry, Ellie,” Marina laughed. “It sounds a little boring to me. I want something exciting! Adventurous! If I were any good at Quidditch, I’d be on a team so I could travel. I can’t believe you wouldn’t try that, at least for a few years.” She sighed and placed her hand on her chin. “I’ve thought about talking to Arabella to get me into some interesting ward in St. Mungo’s so I could see a bunch of freaky spell damage or diseases.”

Lily snorted and rolled her eyes. “If it’s adventure you want, just talk to the boys. James says they’re all set on becoming aurors. I’ll just take my luck with whatever Ministry department will have me. Or maybe work at a garment shop and get discounts- I wonder if Madam Malkin’s is hiring.”

“All of the boys are set on being aurors?” Hermione asked as casually as she could, before taking a swig of her mug. She was trying to get a feel for the Marauders’ plans for the next few years. She’d be sticking around until 1980 after all, maybe 1981. It would be a delicate balance of keeping an eye on Lily and James but avoiding too much scrutiny from their friends.

“Yes, even Peter is saying he’s interested, but honestly, I think he might have trouble with it. The aurors are out getting into serious skirmishes and I just can’t see him hurting anyone!” Hermione nearly spit out her pumpkin juice but had to hold it in as everyone else nodded in agreement.

Marina blushed fiercely and Lily caught on immediately. “Are you and he an item now then?”

“I wish!” She laughed loudly, but she was still bright red.

“Oh, I see, it isn’t official yet then,” Lily grinned.

Marina stammered an excuse out and got up to find her sister as the girls all laughed. Even Callie cracked a small smirk. Hermione had to fake hers. Pettigrew would only be trouble for Marina.

“What about you then, Callie?” Lily turned to the dark-haired girl. “You aren’t one for Quidditch.”

“Ministry research.” Callie said vaguely. “I’ve applied with a few departments.”

“Department of Mysteries too?” Lily said teasingly.

“As if,” Ellie scoffed between bites of food.

Callie smiled and rolled her eyes. “If so, I couldn’t tell.”

“It’s your uncle, isn’t it?” Ellie said as casually as she could. She and Calliope were alone at the table now that the Gryffindor girls had left the feast; there was a buffer of a few students around them, so there was no worry about being overheard.

“Hmm? What’s that?” Callie hardly missed a beat, but Ellie’s sharp eyes noticed the way her hands had frozen momentarily in surprise before responding.

“Your uncle. He’s the ministry contact you’re passing on information to. I’m guessing he has contacts in MLE and maybe even in the Minister’s office.”

Callie turned her head to face the other girl, narrowing her eyes and pushing her glasses upward on her nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dalton.”

“Alright, fine,” Ellie responded, looking back down at the food in front of her. “You can just ask him yourself next time you get the chance. Sounds like we may be colleagues. You know, in the Department of Transportation.”

Elpida didn’t hide her smirk as Callie’s eyes widened beneath her frames, mouth falling open in shock.

“Finally,” Hermione grumbled as Severus joined her at the usual library table on Sunday evening. It was only a few minutes til curfew, so she hadn’t been sure he would show up. “You’ve been busy lately.”

“I have,” he acknowledged, seemingly on guard due to her scowl. She was usually happy to see him.

“Not with Quidditch,” she said, looking down and fiddling with the quill in her hand.

He sighed as he unloaded his books and set them on the table. “You found out about that.”

“I’m not big on Quidditch myself, but Ellie noticed the Slytherin line-up had changed as they left the pitch.”

Severus sat. “The decision made sense. Being on the team is a popularity play, so Regulus needed it more than I did. He’s a decent player as well.”

“They’re taking everything away from you, Severus!” Hermione hissed, glaring at him.

“To the contrary. I no longer need to borrow school work for guard duty, so I’ve moved up considerably,” he drawled.

“You loved playing Quidditch! There’s no benefit to joining them!”

Severus glared back at her. “What, and I’d suddenly be king of another group if I changed my mind? Sacrifices made here are at least in exchange for other benefits.”

Hermione continued glaring, but her scowl faltered a little, knowing he was right.

After a few moments she closed her eyes, leaned back in her seat, and made an exasperated noise. “Fine. Let’s forget that. What have you been busy with then?”

Severus took his cue from her and quickly relaxed. He didn’t want to start a row either.

He drummed his fingers on the table, seeming to debate what to say. He made a point to never lie to her, but he… “withheld much”, as he put it.

“Using… the room,” he finished finally.

“For?” She raised an eyebrow. “Brewing?”

He smirked and jerked a nod of his head. “Among other things. I have sent out applications for potions apprenticeships and many require submissions as proof of competency. Certain higher-level brews and draughts need to be sent upon inquiry.”

Hermione nodded excitedly, then bit her lip and frowned in confusion. “How are you getting ingredients?”

“I’ve spoken to Professor Slughorn already and he is allowing me to clear up the unused ingredients after the N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. classes.” He frowned at this. “I’ve been late to Herbology twice already as I have to run to the dungeons beforehand to pick up after the fifth-years.”

“I think that’s my free period,” Hermione said. They double-checked their schedules and confirmed it was. “I’ll collect the ingredients then and you go on straight to Herbology.” She smirked at him. “It’ll give you a reason to see me in order to pick up your wares.”

Severus looked at her. He didn’t smile often, but even without one, his eyes shone brightly at her and it was clear he was pleased. “Thank you.”

“But,” she raised an eyebrow, having picked up the habit from Severus, “that still shouldn’t get you much by way of ingredients. Certainly not quality ones or enough to make unique potions for many applications.”

“No,” he agreed. “I shall also need to purchase some things. Enough to fulfill applications, and then, if I am accepted, some of the better Mastery programmes require an ingredient bank as well as books and higher quality cauldrons and rods.” Severus straightened stiffly, as if expecting a blow from Hermione. “I may need to… delay. Work for a year to earn the funds to start.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. That, she was not sure if she wanted. What would he take up to earn money? Some job given by another Death Eater? Something given by Voldemort?

“We will figure it out,” she told him. She reached out her hand and squeezed his firmly. She moved to take her hand away, but he grabbed it and brought it to his lips tenderly.

“Whatever my plans are,” he said in his low silky voice, “I will want to see you.” His eyes bored into hers as he gently lowered her hand. Hermione blushed prettily.

“I… I have something for you. In case I can’t see you tomorrow.” She revealed a package wrapped in gold paper from her schoolbag, which she handed to him.

“How… how did you know?” He said, surprised. Severus had never mentioned his birthday.

“I have my ways,” she replied cheekily. Severus nodded sharply and took the present she handed him. She realized that may have been the wrong response. She had found out his birthday in the 90’s, but he might have assumed she found out from Lily.

After he opened the paper, she was nearly shocked when he let out an undignified snort. “Jane Eyre?”

“It’s my favorite novel,” she said defensively. “I thought you might like it too.”

“Am I a dark, brooding anti-hero roaming the moors,” he chuckled. “The abusive Heathcliff to your-”

“That’s Emily Bronte, not Charlotte,” Hermione replied heatedly. “Fine if you don’t like it, you don’t have to be so- so- hmph!” She pushed back from the table and started loading up her books. That did not go as she envisioned. She had seen that he knew the book intimately in the future, even writing in the margins!

Severus leapt up and was beside her in a manner of seconds. “Hermione, shh. Darling.”

He grabbed her hands to still her movements as she tried to jerk away from him. If they had been in a more central location, it might have been cause for attention, but thankfully they had the table by far end. Also, it was Sunday night, and no other student was in the library.

“Hermione.” He easily enfolded her in his larger frame though she turned her head away, still tired and a bit upset. “I apologise,” he whispered in a rumble. “I should not have teased you. No one…” He paused. “As trite as it sounds, it is the thought that counts here. Thank you for the gift.”

He continued to hold her as she slowly relaxed. He kissed her head and waited for her to turn her head up to him.

“Am I forgiven?” He quirked an eyebrow, his eyes dark. He placed a hand under her chin to tilt it upward more.

Hermione’s frown morphed slowly into a shy half-smile. “I suppose,” she whispered gruffly. He smirked and kissed her softly.

A quick glance over her head and around the room told him the coast was clear and he helped her pack up the rest of her things and grab his own. He gestured her toward their aisle with the hidden alcove at the end. Hermione flushed as she tried to hide her widening smile.

Once settled in their private spot, he turned to her and kissed her again, this time less of a peck and more of a slow, sensuous savoring.

Just as Hermione was starting to get a little short of breath, he pulled away.

“I want to… ask something of you.” He said it in that tone of voice that had her shuddering in desire already. He smirked at her, apparently having noticed her reaction. “It is my birthday.”

“Yes?” She tried to huff annoyedly at him, but it came out more as a raspy exhale.

He leaned in again, close to her ear this time.

“I want,” he whispered seductively, “to taste you.”

Hermione felt herself go red in the face and hot all over.

“I… I don’t think…” She couldn’t tell if she was more embarrassed, curious, or aroused. “I don’t think you’ll like it,” she said in a trembling voice.

“Oh, no,” he chuckled right at her ear, causing her to squirm again from his deliciously perfect pitch, “I do have a sensitive nose, after all. I am quite sure I will thoroughly enjoy the taste, just as much as I do the scent.”

He kissed lightly on her neck, breathing softly and causing the small hairs she had there to stand on end.

“Tell me, Firebird,” he rumbled between kisses, “do you taste as fiery as your name implies,” he licked her skin languidly as she suppressed a moan, “or is your nectar as sweet as your smell?”

“Oh… um… I…” That voice and those words!

He kissed his way back up her neck to her ear. “Do you trust me?”

“I… Well…”

He pulled away from her so she could look into his eyes. “Do you trust me to listen?”

“Yes,” she said immediately.

“Then just be open to trying new things,” he drawled, his dark eyes fiery. “If you want me to stop, I’ll listen.”

Hermione gulped and nodded a few quick times, very aroused but still nervous.

Severus narrowed his eyes, gave a low scoff and shook his head. He raised his hand to cup her chin softly, and he simply stood there looking into her eyes until her heart stopped beating quite so rapidly.

That’s better, his look seemed to say, and he gently kissed her lips. He left light and careful touches to her mouth with his own until she relaxed and closed her eyes.

Slowly, both hands moved to her cheeks, still gently holding her face while his lips grazed hers.

She knew before he was a master of fluidity, but he played out his smooth movements on her now, methodically moving his hands lower on her body. He was pressed closely to her so that she felt soothed by his warmth.

His hands drifted lightly down in relaxing motions, down her arms, briefly touching her sides as he slowly kissed her lips.

Hermione sighed, so comforted by the subtle changes in position that she hardly even cared when his lips lightly left her own and his hands rested softly on her knees.

His fingers trailed slowly up her legs, under her skirt, coming up to rest on either hip. She was fast becoming some molten substance, red and hot all over, wet below the waist from his words alone, and utterly unable to find the strength or desire to move.

Her breathing picked up again when she felt his fingers catch the waistband of her knickers before slowly lowering them down her thighs, not even removing them completely, but leaving them above her knees and constricting her movement.

Then, as if knowing she was at risk of becoming too embarrassed to continue, he struck.

Quickly, he raised her skirt enough to dive underneath, expertly bring his mouth to her sex and lick her up and down.

“Oh!” Hermione gave a surprised gasp, coming out a little louder than she had intended.

She felt a half-second hesitation from his tongue, but her hand had instinctively come down in surprise and it softly pressed his head onward, reassuring him to continue.

That skilled mouth and tongue tasted her, moving around languidly as if he were savoring something exquisite. She felt his nose contributing to the incredible sensations, as it stimulated the area above his lips.

“Ohhh ohh Severus,” she hissed, trying desperately to keep both upright and quiet but also damn fucking trying to keep him from stopping the amazing job he was doing.

He noticed her buckling legs and moved his hands to her hips, pressing her behind against the bookcase more firmly and holding her in place. It made the torture even sweeter as her body couldn’t jerk out of the way of pleasure, but was forced to take the full onslaught of his tongue.

“Uhh yesss yesss,” she groaned, no longer whispering. At least she wasn’t raising her voice yet.

Her right hand continued holding the back of his head, pressing him forward without being forceful. Her left hand began to clumsily unbutton her shirt.

She was growing warmer and warmer all over her body, and becoming unable to stand the layers. She was able to unbutton enough to ease her hand under the cloth and manuever it around, squeezing and massaging her breast. Meanwhile, Severus’ hands moved to massage her buttocks with his hands while he licked her sex clean.

“So… Oh Severus! So fucking good!” She was definitely being too loud now, wasn’t she- oh but fuck who cares, he just has to know it’s so good so he doesn’t stop, he can’t stop no, no, no not now! Not yet!

“Oh God! Severus! OH!” He had started alternating between licking and sucking now, teasingly circling her clitoris but never quite touching for long enough.

She knew she was quite wet and his face was probably a mess, but she could hardly form a coherent thought, let alone care.

Her hand left the back of his head as he was doing fantastic without her encouragement and she was able to play with both breasts as she threw her head back against the bookshelf.

“FUCK!” She cried.

His fingers had come expertly around, pumping up and down inside her as he licked around them, languidly up and down, excitedly responding to her reactions with continued enthusiasm. Sensing she was about to collapse, his other hand jerked her knickers all the way to her shoes so she could spread her legs for leverage. This only enhanced both his view and his access, and Hermione clamped her mouth shut and bit her lip to avoid moaning loudly.

Finally, the apex was reached when he brought his lips to her clitoris and sucked hard. His nimble fingers pistoned rapidly inside her.

“Oh yes! Severus yes yes YES YES!” Hermione felt her body spasm in bliss as she quickly brought her hands to the shelves behind her to keep her from falling to the floor. Her mind in a blank ecstasy, she felt a tear of exertion fall from one eye.

She whimpered and shuddered as Severus slowed his movements, removing his fingers from inside her and licking languidly around her inner thighs, as if he could lap up everything that had just fallen from her. Then he lowered a shell-shocked Hermione to the floor, fixing her skirt and pulling her drenched knickers back up before folding her into his arms and stroking her hair.

“I… That was…” She couldn’t really describe it. She felt as if she’d run a marathon.

“So fucking good?” He quoted in a velvety tone, not bothering to hide his pleased grin. Normally she would have elbowed him for being cheeky, but all she could do was nod blankly.

“Oh wait,” she said, turning to him. “What about…” Now that she could finally think properly, she should return the favour, right?

He looked a bit surprised, but shook his head and smiled. “Another time.” At her wide-eyed, guilty look, he chuckled. “Don’t worry, my Firebird. You’ve given me plenty of memories for me to savour.”

“But you…” He hissed as her hand moved to the front of his trousers. “Severus, don’t make me a bad girlfriend.” She stroked him through the fabric as she felt how hard he was. “And on your birthday too.”

It took no time for her to expose him and stroke him firmly, hand to flesh. “Ah, well, if you….unhh if you… fuuuck… you insist…”

Hermione wasn’t sure she could have reciprocated tasting him yet, but he was so far gone that it wouldn’t have mattered. He came spurting into her hand within seconds, eyes rolling back in his head. She was glad she insisted.

After some cleansing charms to them both and righting his clothing as well, they kissed languidly for a few moments. Hermione felt Severus cancel a spell that he must have used to silence her noises.

“As I thought,” he whispered to her as he stroked her hair. “You taste divine. Please allow me to quench my thirst another time.”

Hermione blushed again, though maybe she hadn’t really stopped. “You really liked it that much?” She asked shyly.

“Didn’t you feel how hard you made me?” He chuckled darkly. “What a fantastic birthday present. I told you I would willingly be your consort.”

She snuggled into his chest, clutching him in a tight hug.

“Thank goodness you aren’t,” she said. “We can be more.” A lot more.

She had known it before, really. It wasn’t just post-orgasmic bliss that decided it, but it did make her more honest with herself.

She loved him, completely. Even if he was a Death Eater, even if he was 20 years older. Even if it was the wrong time to love him. It didn’t change how she felt.

Chapter Text

One otherwise mundane Tuesday at the beginning of February, something in the air had shifted at Hogwarts. Whispers and glances were traded back and forth across the Great Hall tables at lunchtime, with accompanying glares and muttered conversations that appeared more sinister and conspiratory in comparison from the Slytherin table. Hermione cursed her earlier decision not to take out a subscription to The Daily Prophet in order to cover her time-traveling tracks. Clearly, something had happened.

“It’s not the Prophet,” Arabella informed her when she asked. “It’s the latest edition of Witch Weekly.”

“Witch Weekly?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“Yes, it’s an interview.” And Arabella surreptitiously pulled out a copy of the magazine, handing it to Hermione under the table. “Don’t read it here. I think some of the others are being a little, well, cocky in how much bravado…” she trailed off. “Just read it and you’ll see what I mean.”

Hermione thanked her and left quickly. Perhaps this was why Lily and Marina had been absent from breakfast and lunch? Come to think of it, she hadn’t noticed the Marauders either.

Hermione quickened her pace until she reached the library to find a quiet reading spot. She couldn’t find a seat fast enough. When she looked at the front cover, she let out an audible gasp.

Staring back at her was a picture of Harry above the heading, “The One Who Lived”.

Following a few seconds in which her heart pounded loudly, her breathing quickened, and she began to panic because she must have somehow altered the timeline, Hermione calmed down just enough to read the rest of the front-page magazine blurb.

“The One Who Lived” preceded a smaller subheading which read, “James, the last surviving Potter tells his story”.

Ah. Of course.

The familial resemblance had been too great to tell James and Harry apart upon first glance, but it was clear on a second look at the photo. James had more of a wide, cocked, and cheeky grin, which Harry occasionally adopted, but it differed from the son’s good-natured, excited smile. It was obvious in their eyes as well- not just by the colour. Harry’s eyes always appeared impressed and enthusiastic when smiling, while James’… he had the look in his eyes as if slyly knowing that he was about to impress you.

Hermione opened the magazine up, finding the cover story and reading it quickly. The interview was with a Persephone Miopsy, a clear precursor to Rita Skeeter. The interviewing styles of the two reporters were similar, and there were certainly the familiar sympathy plays to the reader for James’ tragic situation, much as had been embellished time and time again during articles about Harry. In this case, however, instead of presenting James as the grieving, suffering orphan, the tone shifted dramatically partway through the piece.

James was made out to be an archetypal hero, overcoming tragic circumstances in order to… what?

Hermione grimaced as she read. James declared that he would “not be intimidated” and that he would “fight for the right side against tyranny”. He ended the interview with a bang, calling out Voldemort and his Death Eaters by name- no use of “You-Know-Who” here- and declaring that they were “bigots, murderers, and not true wizards, but only false magicians”.

Yes, she could see why Arabella was cautious. And yes, she could see why the Gryffindors clapped James on the back, high-fived him and applauded him when he emerged from hiding- or privately celebrating, perhaps- later that afternoon. She understood the proud, triumphant faces of the Gryffindors she saw. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat proud of James herself. Heck, hadn’t she herself organized the Quibbler interview Harry had given in fifth year, declaring Voldemort really was back?

But… this was different. She knew what was to come.

Harry had already been marked as a target by Voldemort, and he had been since his birth. If Severus had been correct about the faked deaths of the elder Potters, then James hadn’t yet been singled out.

Until now.

Hermione couldn’t miss Lily’s reaction over the next few days. She smiled and applauded her beau just as everyone else did. It was in the down moments when no one was looking that Lily would rub her temples aggressively and fidget with her hands. Lily knew just what Hermione did. Voldemort was now on notice.

Lily and James Potter had “defied Voldemort three times”. Was Voldemort really even keeping track of which one of them did the defying at which time? Probably not. Hermione doubted they would each be allowed three separate strikes. Perhaps he would only care about what James did or said.

So… this must be strike one?

Hermione couldn’t help but become discouraged at James’ act of bravery, so reminiscent of something Harry would do. The Potters would be dead because of this defiance. They would not survive the war.

Hogwarts only whispered about James Potters’ interview for so long. It was now February and the promised Valentine’s Day dance was upcoming.

There had been no discussion of who she should go with. Severus and Hermione had gotten little time together during the last few weeks of January- and what time they did manage to steal together was not used for much talking.

There were only the brief meetups during the week to exchange potions ingredients and, often, they only checked in with each other for a few brief moments on their way to the library alcove for much-needed relief of stress. 

After the third occasion that Hermione came shaking and moaning on Severus’ face as he licked her clean, she was so overcome with arousal that she immediately forced Severus to a standing position so she could return the favour. The benefit of her frenzy allowed her to lose all sense of embarrassment or fear of incorrect performance, so her first time pleasuring him orally happened quite naturally and without fuss. 

Given the sounds coming from Severus and the look on his face she could spot as she glanced up at him, it didn’t go so poorly. The acrid taste that hit the back of her throat was worth it after hearing Severus’ frantic grunts and whispered exclamations. Hermione couldn’t stop blushing and smiling just thinking of it later, and it made her relax and not feel so guilty the next time he pleased her. She now knew how incredible it felt to give, not only to receive. She felt utterly powerful and sexy that she could get Severus Snape to break his emotionless façade and stroke her hair gently as he thrust into her mouth.

Unfortunately, they could only meet and feel safe enough to act this way in the library about once a week. So even with the quick exchanges of Slughorn’s spare potions ingredients and the brief looks during classes, the Valentine’s dance hadn’t come up as an important enough topic of conversation. This is why the week leading up to the dance, Hermione still had no plans of a date.

The week preceding Valentine’s Day held the usual expected drama and anxiety from the student body that preceded any social function in which an escort was expected or required. Hermione was starting to find Gryffindor tower almost unbearable as the “will he, won’t he” gossip was becoming too much to hear. It became a nightly test of her occlumency practice to sill herself and drown out the whispered commentary on who was going with whom, mostly between Arabella and Marina.

Hermione thought she could finally breath once everyone in the Gryffindor girls’ circle had been paired up. Lily and James were quite obviously a pair, and the flirting between Arabella and Sirius was currently on the upswing, so they were also a couple for the night. Marina and Peter Pettigrew appeared to finally be an official item (Hermione really needed to practice occlumency to not react to that) and even her sister Marlene was going with a “Ravenclaw Quidditch player”.

Then Hermione realized what the new quiet lull must mean- they were now working on pairing her up. She rolled her eyes at this and brushed the detail aside. Her bookworm tendencies always counted against her when it came to the social game, so important in this mission to the past, so she was completely taken aback when she was cornered one day by Lily, Arabella, and Marina right after lunch.

They practically pulled her up from the table and shoved her into the Entrance Hall, Lily and Marina exchanging grins between giggles and Arabella failing to hide a cool, confident smirk.

When Hermione exited the Great Hall and entered the high-ceilinged corridor, her heart sank. There were many students milling around the space, and it appeared whatever the girls had in mind for her would have an audience. There were students coming in and out of the castle door, brushing dusts of February snow off their robes, and some who were waiting around in front of the nearby classrooms off the hall for their next class to begin.

“Now I know you aren’t committed for the dance, Anna,” Marina whispered excitedly. “But you shouldn’t hide away in the library that evening too.”

“You’ve only got this one year at Hogwarts,” Lily agreed. “You need to enjoy all the experiences!”

“Don’t worry,” Arabella said, glancing around the crowd of students. “We’ll find you someone you can talk to, not just dance with. I’m sure a fellow bookworm would be just the ticket…”

Hermione kept herself from groaning aloud as she saw the Marauders push Remus forward, clapping him on the back. He cleared his throat before striding calmly over to the girls, a bit more confidently than she would have thought. I hope they didn’t give a yes already on my behalf.

When Remus stopped in front of her, she thought he looked quite handsome, in a wolfish way. His hair was tousled in an aloof, yet attractive manner, and his eyes held a sharp, bright, narrow look. Hermione had not- quite foolishly, she chided herself- kept track of Remus’ absences or the dates of the full moon, but if she had to wager a guess, it had just recently occurred.

“How are you all?” Remus said politely to the group, not forgetting his manners. The other girls giggled a bit and stepped back slightly so that Hermione was clearly the closest to him.

“Anna,” Remus turned to her, a bit of shyness seeping through his confident mannerisms, “would you-”

“PERRI!”

Hermione visibly jumped at the barking shout from across the entry hall and she saw Remus’ hand instinctively go to his inner robe pocket.

In an instant, Severus had stalked over to them from behind a group of Slytherins. She had never even suspected him of being there.

“Snape?” Hermione let out questioningly. She was surprised, but still thankfully remembered to address him appropriately in public.

“Perri,” he said in a more normal voice after he reached the two, Lupin having made space between himself and Hermione when he turned and prepared for the defensive. Severus didn’t even glance at Lupin. “Do you have an escort to the Saint Valentine’s party?”

Hermione simply stared at him, becoming more confused by the second. Was she supposed to follow his lead here? As far as they’d been acting in public, there was no real relationship between them. Merely a consort and a convenient stooge for gathering intelligence.

“I- I- er. No,” she stammered, wide-eyed. “I do not.”

“Then allow me to accompany you.” Severus bowed slightly, his dark head inclined towards her. His eyes were staring daggers at the stone floor.

After a few long seconds of him holding that stance, the hall broke out into fervent whispers.

Hermione was still confused, but it was clear there was a response required at this point.

“I-” she swallowed, hoping this was the correct decision. “Yes. I accept your… invitation.” The last word was half-whispered. She wasn’t sure if this was the proper response in any pureblood etiquette rules.

Severus raised his head stoically and met her eyes too briefly. He had the same neutral and bored expression, but his eyes said enough. The black depths pooled with gratitude and something fierce and possessive that made her bite down hard on her tongue to keep from flushing in pleased attraction.

Hermione gave him a polite nod. Severus then finally glanced at Lupin, turning away with a slight smirk before quickly disappearing once more into the crowd. Hermione really hoped this wasn’t only done as a power play to slight the Marauders.

As Snape disappeared, so did the attention. Conversations around them quickly dissolved into loud chatter between various friend groups and the throng began to disperse.

“Er… you… you were saying, Remus?” Hermione blushed, almost ashamed to meet his eyes. She hated to put him in this situation, but hoped he would take the out she was giving him and would pretend he was about to ask something else. Anything else. It was better than him walking away awkwardly and embarrassed.

“Would you- would you-” he sighed. “Would you happen to have the notes from the Transfiguration lesson I missed last week? I trust your note taking better than… others.”

She nodded and smiled sympathetically at him. “Of course. I’ll make a copy and leave them in the common room for you tonight.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, looking away. “I’ll see you around, Anna.”

He retreated back to Peter, James, and Sirius, who looked collectively furious. Hermione turned around so he could collect himself without her watching.

Lily was stonily trying to hold a neutral look, while Arabella hid her exasperation behind a thin smile. Marina, however, had a look of shock and despair on her face. “What was that?” she groaned, her well-laid matchmaking plans come to naught.

“I… I don’t know,” Hermione replied honestly. “I didn’t see it coming. I thought…” She really didn’t know how to continue. Could she openly date Severus? Would that even work?

“No, you did the right thing,” Lily said finally, still holding her stony expression but narrowing her eyes in thought. “You need to keep that connection open. At least for now.”

After further discussion that afternoon, Lily convinced the other girls that Snape should be allowed to take Anna to the dance. Anna, she reasoned, could then gather intel on the Slytherin and Death Eater reaction to James’ interview with Witch Weekly. After consultation with the boys, this must have been enough of a reason to convince James and Sirius to give their reluctant approval as well, at least agreeing not to retaliate against Snape for stealing Remus’ date. Hermione was told later that Remus would be going with a dark-haired Hufflepuff girl from their year.

Calliope and Elpida met up with Lily, Marina, and Hermione afterwards in the library. Calliope informed the group matter-of-factly that she also did not have a date for the dance, which gave the matchmakers enough of an interesting problem to solve and any studying was quickly forgotten.

Elpida was then able to squeeze to one side of the table next to Hermione to talk to her and get the run down on what had transpired.

“I thought you would have already had a chance to ask him about the interview?” Elpida said, looking both suspicious and puzzled.

“We haven’t seen too much of each other lately,” Hermione admitted, trying not to blush. “Just a few minutes here and there.”

“Why? What’s he busy with?” Now Ellie only looked suspicious.

Hermione shrugged, deciding the truth was okay in this instance. “Potions applications. He’s trying for an apprenticeship next year.”

“You’re going to help him get one, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hermione glared at the girl next to her. “It’s better than him doing… something more unsavoury.”

Elpida huffed in begrudging agreement and tucked her dirty-blonde hair behind her ears. She seemed to be thinking about what to say.

It was odd, Hermione thought.

On the one hand, it felt like the two had become closer. Hermione felt she could trust Ellie with certain tasks, such as monitoring Callie and keeping a watchful eye on Lily when she could. Ellie in turn trusted her enough to keep quiet about just how close Hermione actually was to Severus- she had helped cover for her over the holidays, after all. Yet, there was still something unspoken between them right now, besides Snape.

“That’s a fair point,” Ellie said finally. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” Hermione said absentmindedly, trying to open her Arithmancy book back up and get some actual studying done.

“No apprenticeship?”

Hermione sighed. “I’m just… having trouble deciding.” More like she was waiting for Lily to decide so she could weigh her responsibilities for where she needed to be.

“Arabella Cook and I are getting a flat together,” Ellie replied in answer. “You’ll need to let us know by May if you want to join in so we can find one big enough.”

“Arabella?” Hermione frowned and looked up. “I didn’t think you two were that close.”

Ellie shrugged. “We aren’t really, but she needed a place close to St. Mungo’s and I needed one close to the Ministry, so we thought we’d go in together to get something in London. She actually overheard me talking to Marlene first, but Marlene doesn’t want to promise anything yet when she’s looking at Quidditch teams. She might end up somewhere in Europe, who knows.”

“So, Arabella is already set for St. Mungo’s?”

“Yeah, apprenticeship as a junior healer starts immediately after graduation. She has to take the patient-privacy wand oath right away so she can get her provisional treatment license.”

“I see.” Hermione bit her lip and twiddled with her quill, heavy in thought. St. Mungo’s and the Ministry would be easily accessible in case Lily began working there- and she knew James planned on becoming an auror. Also, Arabella would be another avenue to keep in touch with Lily and James and she could somewhat trust Elpida with things, so it might not be too bad to have her as a roommate.

“I’ll let you know soon,” she answered finally. “I might take you up on it.”

Elpida grinned, clearly pleased. It was the least grumpy Hermione had seen her in a while.

Thankfully, Hermione did not have to track Severus down and send some sort of message- or veiled threat- that he needed to meet her immediately. He was smart enough to figure it out himself.

He met her in the library soon before curfew, so as the usual they were the only two around. They quickly absconded to their hidden alcove.

“Severus, what were you thinking? You know we-”

Severus cut her off by gently grabbing her face and kissing her deeply. She held back at first in surprise before slowly melting into his arms and his kiss.

He pulled away softly, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs and keeping his face close to hers.

“I…” He exhaled slowly, dark eyes drawing her in. “I have claimed you.”

“What do you mean?” She whispered, drawn into the intimacy.

“I have claimed you publicly. You are no longer a secret, and you cannot be seen as merely a consort.”

You are mine, he might as well have said. He was certainly staking his claim on her with his eyes.

“Severus…” she said hedgingly.

“You are not pleased?”

Hermione huffed slightly, blushing brightly and trying to fight back a smile.  “How could I not be?” She admitted, as Severus smirked at her reaction.

She made a face at him, a half-hearted glare to indicate his methods were questionable, even if he was forgiven. It only made him smirk wider.

“Where do we go from here, then?” She asked him, looping her arms around his neck.

“I imagine we continue as normal. Only with less… sneaking around.” He answered.

Despite how casually he said it, she knew he was desperately hoping she was convinced of the change. He really wanted to go public. Well, as public as Snape would want to. She doubted they would even hold hands in front of others. It was the implication, the association between them that he no longer wanted to hide.

“Well… how do I behave then?” She frowned, trying to puzzle this out.

Wouldn’t she still have to pretend this relationship was for the sake of gathering information? She’d have to be coming up with much more information now to pass to the Gryffindors- true or false, benign or important.  It was imperative she didn’t piss Lily and James off so much that they would break contact. That would make this whole mission go to shit.

“Behave however you need to,” he said confidently. “I can account for it.”

This did little to reassure her worries.

Hermione decided to hold off on telling the girls that she and Severus were a couple. She had to figure out how to do it, after all, and weigh how this would impact… everything about her future plans. For now, he was simply her escort to the dance, and she would continue to cozy up to him in order to get information. Anything else could be dealt with as it came up.

Valentine’s Day came quickly enough and, just like with the Christmas party, it was another festive afternoon and early evening of getting ready for the event. Hermione didn’t really want to take so long to get ready, but she filed it in the “social obligations” box that she had to participate in to keep the mission going.

As expected, the colour schemes for Valentine’s Day were somewhat limited and most of the girls in Gryffindor ended up wearing pinks and reds. Marina wore a bubblegum pink dress with plenty of ruffles, while Marlene, Hermione, and Arabella wore deep reds, Hermione merely transfiguring the same dress she’d worn before and adding gold accents. Hermione got some hair tips from Arabella, and they ended up with similar curly updos. Lily was the outlier of the group, wearing a gold dress that wouldn’t clash with her auburn hair.

The girls went down together and met some of their partners in the great Hall, as well as Calliope and Elpida. Marlene was attending with Mateo Reinero, and the couple made a handsome match as fellow athletic Quidditch enthusiasts. Elpida was waiting for a 6^th year Ravenclaw transfer student who arrived shortly after the group did. The ones with dates quickly were escorted into the Great Hall to grab seats and hors d’oeuvres.  

Hermione didn’t immediately spot Severus waiting for her, and she glanced at Lily, Marina, and Arabella, who did not seem concerned at all about their missing dates.

Lily sighed and rolled her eyes. “Let’s just go in without them. They know they can’t spike the punch so they’re…”

Arabella laughed. “They’re getting themselves spiked. Boys.”

So, they went in as a girl group and chatted for a few minutes as they admired the decorations in the hall. Dumbledore was in prime form as ever with the frilly hearts and floating cupids and the explosion of pinks bombarding the Great Hall. Hermione grinned, thinking about how much Severus would hate it. She still hadn’t spotted him yet, but she wasn’t worried. There’s no way he would stand her up, especially after asking her so publicly.

Hermione left the other girls to gossip about the latest witch fashion trends as she went to get herself a small plate. In the line at the food and drinks table, she felt herself jostled roughly out of the way.

“OH! I’m so sorry my dear!” Professor Slughorn had just missed slopping punch down Hermione’s dress, instead soaking the tray of heart-shaped cookies just beside her.

“That’s quite alright, Professor,” Hermione replied, clearing the mess quickly with her wand. Slughorn appeared to have imbibed before the party, clearly having the same idea as the Gryffindor males. “How are you doing tonight?”

“Fine, just fine, Miss Cook. I suppose your quick reflexes will make you an excellent healer! Say hello to the Pye side of the family at St. Mungo’s for me, why don’t you? You will be going there after graduation, I presume?”

“Oh, er… actually, it’s Perri, Professor.” Hermione correctly him sheepishly. “Miss Cook is over there.” She nodded over in Arabella Cook’s direction. The Marauders seem to have finally arrived, as Sirius had his arm draped lazily over Arabella’s shoulder and was whispering in her ear.

“Why…” Slughorn did a double take, looking back and forth between the two girls. “Why with the red dress and your hair- you two look so alike! Like the McKinnon girls- You could be sisters! I apologize Miss Perkins. I won’t make the same mistake again!” And Slughorn, looking slightly flustered and embarrassed, bumbled his way quickly toward a group of mingling staff members, forgetting his glass of punch in the process.

Hermione shook her head, smiling as she headed back toward “her” group.

“You have to be kidding me,” Sirius was saying, glaring at something behind her.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily shushed him. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah sure, with all the turncoat women around, I suppose you’re used to it.”

“Actually,” Arabella said in a chiding tone, “she volunteered to help us get more intel. So, this was planned.”

“You mean unlike the Snape debacle?” James interjected.

Hermione flushed, feeling everyone look at her.

“Oh, don’t be mean!” Marina huffed as she hung on Peter’s arm. “She had no idea it was coming, none of us did! Snape just had to come and make a big show of asking Anna!”

Hermione looked around. Thankfully, Remus was sitting with his date and a group of Hufflepuffs, smiling and chatting politely. He didn’t seem like he was broken up about who he ended up taking.

“You women are bloody scary,” James stated, eyes wide in disbelief and shaking his head. “You have Anna here playing Snape for months and now you send another friend into the snake pit, all for the possibility of information.”

Hermione frowned. “Who-”

“No one was going to ask Callie anyway,” Lily shrugged. “She didn’t object.”

Marina motioned behind her, and Hermione turned. Calliope Cohen was dancing with Regulus Black.

Well, Hermione thought wryly. That explains that.

“My brother, everyone. Just another snake.” Sirius scowled. “Come on, Ari, come dance with me.” He pulled Arabella onto the dance floor as she acquiesced with rolled eyes.

Hermione spotted Severus arriving just then and quickly placed her plate and glass on an empty table and walked over to him.

He looked pretty surly already, but Hermione grinned happily, trying not to run and leap into his arms.

“Hello,” she said to him, smiling brightly. She stopped directly in front of him, deciding it was best to let him dictate how they should interact physically.

“Good evening,” he replied, giving her a quick nod. “Would you care for a dance?”

“Of course, Mr. Snape.” Hermione smiled cheekily, holding out a hand to be escorted to the dance floor. Ever the gentleman, he took her hand in the proper manner before leading her out.

The music was currently in the classical style, a trio of musicians playing a variety of slower dances. As Hermione understood it, the evening would begin with waltzing and move up through the musical time periods to faster dances such as Witch-Swing and the foxtrot, and end with music and dancing that actually fit the era, though probably not played by the same trio. She suspected the professors to have a hand in this selection, so as the students petered off throughout the night, so too would the professors who didn’t want to listen to the more modern ‘noise’.

They began with a slow waltz, during which Severus held her gingerly and avoided any large movements. Hermione could tell he was a more graceful dancer than he was currently demonstrating, though for what reason he was holding back, she couldn’t tell.

“You were… a bit delayed,” she said quietly, not sure how openly they could speak for now.

His eyes darted quickly around them to scan their surroundings. There weren’t many couples dancing now and those who were simply swayed back and forth for the most part. Waltzing was difficult for most, it seemed.

“I am here now,” he said finally. “I apologize for my tardiness. It could not be avoided, unfortunately.”

“So not just caught up with working?” Hermione teased, smiling at him. She felt giddy being danced with and shown off in this way. It had been so long since she’d been on a public date, and never had with Severus.

He didn’t take her teasing as she meant it, merely meeting her eyes with his dark ones and remaining silent. Hermione flushed. “I- I just mean that I’ve gotten absorbed in a book before and thought forgetting the time was completely unavoidable.”

She felt his shoulder relax slightly under her rested hand. He smirked at her. “Nothing quite as benign, I assure you. I prioritize our meetings. As far as forgetting myself goes-” Severus turned her fluidly as the song ended, leading her into a simple dip.

“You are my most dangerous distraction by far,” he whispered.

Hermione believed her face was as red as her dress when Severus lifted her slowly from the dip.

After a few more dances the music changed to a faster pace and the couple went to get punch. More students were on the dance floor now, as a simple Witch-Swing step was easier to master. Hermione could tell Severus was growing more uncomfortable the more students were crowded together on the open floor, and she was sure he didn’t want to be here the whole time. A public announcement of the two stepping out together was different than having the patience for a full evening gathering.

As they approached the drinks table, Severus stepped aside to allow Arabella to go before him. Sirius was not with her, thankfully.

Arabella and Hermione exchanged small talk about the décor and dancing while they filled their cups and Arabella laughed and pointed out the group of professors across the hall. Slughorn was clearly tipsier than he had been already somehow and had been gesturing around, presumably talking about various students to the professors standing around him. McGonagall held a thin-lipped smile, Flitwick looked a bit disturbed, Sprout was wide-eyed and curious, and Karkaroff looked absolutely livid.

“Who knows what they’re talking about?” Arabella tittered. “Didn’t you see he was pointing over here at us at one point?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t see.”

“It was just now when we both got in line.”

“Oh, I know the reason for that I think.” Hermione relayed Slughorn’s earlier confusion between the two girls, which Arabella laughed at.

“I’ll make sure he never hears the end of it from my uncle!” Arabella swept off at that to find someone else to tell.

Hermione turned to Severus, waiting for him to get a drink first before speaking.

“We can go now,” she said.

He looked askance at her, his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

She smiled at him and took his hand. “We’ve made our appearance. You’ve,” she blushed, “claimed me. Now we can go find a quiet place to talk.”

Severus downed the punch. As he lowered the glass, he smirked at her. “Talk.”

Hermione blushed deeper. “Yes! That’s all I meant.”

“Hmmm.” He didn’t drop the smirk, but he put his glass down and took her hand.

They walked hand-in-hand out of the Great Hall just as the music picked up yet again and the rest of the students swelled around the dance floor. They didn’t even make it as far as the library before they found an alcove to steal kisses in.

Chapter Text

The rest of the month of February and into March was filled with frantic studying for N.E.W.T.s, application writing for post-graduation jobs, and general panicking.

This was true of all the seventh-year students apart from Hermione. She would join the study sessions of course; however, she had come to admit more and more that she didn’t need them in the same way the rest of the students did, which was both reassuring and frightening all at once. Reassuring in that exams were one less thing to worry about and frightening in that she found herself once again topsy turvy from her own sense of normality. Hermione Granger not need to study? Ha!

Yet Hermione was intently studying human behaviour, mannerisms, and interactions. She hadn’t been a poor judge of character prior to time traveling, hadn’t she? She’d been able to deduce certain secrets before being told outright. Lupin was a werewolf, Umbridge was a ministry plant, the Department of Mysteries was a trap…

Now it felt a lot more difficult. Despite Hermione having come from the future and theoretically being “ahead of the game” timewise, she was in the dark to quite a few people’s motives. She had even gone to Dumbledore about it.

After sharing her suspicions and concerns about some of the girls’ actions- Lily, Calliope, even Elpida, who had been oddly too trusting of her given the circumstances- Hermione waited for the headmaster’s commentary.

He didn’t appear concerned. He merely stroked his beard and looked across the room at nothing in particular.

“Anything with Professor Karkaroff?”

Hermione hesitated. She didn’t want to get Severus in trouble, but… he was already on the path to getting himself in trouble for the next few years without her interference. “He appears to have given Severus Snape a very valuable item.” At Dumbledore’s inquisitive look, she continued. “A Firebird feather.”

“I see.” If Albus Dumbledore was surprised to hear this information, he didn’t show it. “Did Mr. Snape tell you how this occurred?”

It was an exchange, Severus had told her. It sounded like a typical Slytherin barter. But what the Firebird feather was given in exchange for, he wouldn’t say.

“Not really,” she answered.

Dumbledore did not appear put out, simply walking leisurely around the office. “Any plans for the summer then, Miss Perri?”

Hermione shuffled her feet. “Still deciding,” she answered finally.

“Well, once you decide, do let me know. I may have some work for you… if you don’t go too far.”

“I shall need to save up funding. I have gotten confirmation.”

Hermione and Severus were in the library together at a table late one evening in mid-March. Severus looked weary and slightly gaunt in the face, clearly sharing in the same tired and frantic energy that was sweeping the student body. Despite her assured job offer, Elpida had made herself scarce recently due to studying, Lily and Calliope had each sported bags under their eyes the last time Hermione had seen either, and even Arabella was concerned about flunking her Potions N.E.W.T. and being unable to advance as far as she wanted in healing, pestering Slughorn for extra review sessions.

“Confirmation?”

“I have received an acceptance letter for a potions mastery programme.”

“That’s so wonderful, Severus!” Hermione jumped up excitedly, though Severus hushed her and quickly indicated she should sit again.

“It’s from Michel de Grasse, the French potioneer. He’s the best in Europe. Now is the time to pursue an apprenticeship with him, especially as he’s 130 now and unlikely to take on many more apprentices in future years.” Severus said this flatly and still looked exhausted, not appearing pleased at the news.

“Why is it you don’t look happy about this?” Hermione whispered confusedly, her face falling slightly.

“Well firstly, the acceptance letter is conditional. I mentioned previously that many of these mastery programmes require books and ingredient banks in order to begin.” He glanced up at Hermione and she nodded in recognition. “One of the reasons Monsieur de Grasse is so prominent is that he only takes on apprentices who possess the rarest ingredients or potions in their banks. The apprentices aren’t made to use them or give them up to him during their training, but the rarity of the potions act as a boost of the students’ credentials. It is simply another way of de Grasse ensuring his pupils are seen by all as crème de la crème, and it naturally keeps him known as the best Potions Master in this part of the world.”

“Do you not have anything rare enough to qualify you to him?”

“No. Not to start an apprenticeship within the year, at least. I told you I might have to work and save up the funds. It may also be the case that I have to prove my value by presenting a potion that takes at least six months to brew, which I would also need to delay for.”

Hermione frowned, puzzling out this newfound dilemma. “You said ‘firstly’ earlier. Was there another problem?”

Severus glowered. “Monsieur de Grasse runs a tight regimen. His apprentices graduate quickly- I should certainly finish within two years, perhaps sooner. The workload allows only one weekend a month off…” Severus trailed off and eyed her meaningfully.

“That’s a tradeoff of completing the programme faster I suppose,” Hermione reasoned, nodding.

“I am loathe to accept, though I know it is a great opportunity. It would mean little time off.” Severus looked pained. “Little time to see you.”

Hermione blanched, feeling guilty. “You shouldn’t make a decision on my account!”

There was a slight pause. “Why not?”

Because you shouldn’t rely on my sticking around. I have a future to return to.

She couldn’t say that.

“I… I don’t want you giving up opportunities for my sake.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Why not?” No pause this time.

She looked up at him then. Severus was still even-toned and still looked exhausted, yet despite no change in his manner, Hermione felt the conversation was slowly gaining importance.

“If you recall,” he continued slowly, “pursuing a potions mastery now was your… very fervent suggestion.”

“Suggestion! Only a suggestion!” Hermione gaped, trying not to become affronted at the implication. “You cannot say that I am forcing you into it-”

“I’ve said nothing of the kind,” he continued evenly, refusing to be enveloped by any hasty emotion in his tired state. “I enjoy the study of potions- I always have- and the choice makes sense based on my aptitudes and future career prospects.”

Severus’ eyes locked into Hermione’s fiercely and intently during the pregnant pause before he spoke again. “However,” he drawled silkily, “it is a decision I do make on your account, and I fully expect to give up other opportunities for your sake.”

Hermione bit down hard on her lip. He was only making his intentions towards her quite clear again. The longer she spent in a relationship with Severus, the stronger her elation at being cared about so deeply and the more magnified her guilt at her own deceptions to him.

She could give him no such promise in return, could she?

No wonder he would go back to loving Lily. Hermione could hardly even blame him for that.

“Well,” Hermione cleared her throat. “I have an idea then about the rare ingredient- so you don’t have to waste any time working to save up money for purchasing one.”

“Go on.”

“I’ll just give you back the Firebird feather. It’s supposed to be a catalyst in spells and potions, right? You wouldn’t even have to use it up since the potions master just takes it as a good mark on a CV, so it would still be fine for future use. That should be enough proof…”

Hermione trailed off as Severus got to his feet and collected his things hastily. His patience had clearly held out long enough.

“I gave it to you,” he hissed at her as he angrily made to leave. “Are you rejecting the reassurances you begged me for? I swore to you that you are more than my consort, that you are precious to me… it is now that you say not to make you promises, not to change my plans for you, and you try to return the most valuable thing I have ever laid eyes on which I gifted to you?”

Severus stormed off. After the initial surprise wore off, Hermione was left feeling far guiltier and stupider than she had felt in quite a while.

The next time they saw each other was also the next time the rest of the weary, overly-exhausted students came up for air briefly from their studies and applications. It was finally time for the next “special event” Dumbledore had appointed in honour of the visiting transfer students- the March vendor weekend and the Hogsmeade trivia contest. On Saturday morning after a late breakfast, the students all began to gather in the chilly courtyard, bundled up with hats and gloves and a few warming charms.

While previously, the students would receive free mugs of butterbeer for correctly answering year-appropriate questions, now the prize would be in galleons. The winner of the trivia contest would earn a credit of 100 galleons to the Hogsmeade shop of their choice. Honeydukes and Zonko’s were the top preferences for the monetary credit if you polled the chattering gatherers in the Hogwarts courtyard, with Gladrags Wizardwear and Spintwitches Sporting Needs close behind.

It was decided that each house would first whittle down the competitors internally before presenting one final contestant. Hermione made her way to the corner of the courtyard designated for the Gryffindors, near the Dogweed and Deathcap vendor cart. Professor McGonagall addressed the crowd of students.

“I suggest, for the sake of expediency and a house victory, we limit the competition to 5^th year students and above.” There were groans and heated protests in response to this and the woman didn’t blink. “Can any 1^st through 4^th year can tell me the five ingredients involved in a rejuvenation draught?” She paused for a brief moment to allow answers. “No? What about the difference between the transfiguration methods of metamorphizing and altercomposing? How about the best spell to use if you are trapped in a maze while blindfolded?” At the lack of responses, she grimaced slightly but nodded, the reaction expected. “Well then, let’s begin by having a line of those upper years. Form a line behind Mr. Peakley here!”

The three questions McGonagall had posed to the younger students also stumped a few of the older ones and it was no surprise at all to Hermione that only the seventh year Gryffindors were able to answer her questions correctly. McGonagall seemed to believe the best method was to focus on academics, though Hermione believed the butterbeer contests had previously involved general wizarding trivia. Even if she ended up winning for Gryffindor, there could be a Quidditch question later that would trip her up.

Sure enough, following a few successful rounds of narrowing the Gryffindors down, Madam Hooch chastised McGonagall for the subject favoritism and a few flying and Quidditch-themed questions were added.

This is what tripped up Lily, putting Hermione down as the final Gryffindor female. Lupin was the final male Gryffindor, but there was finally a question with the answer of “Wolfsbane potion” which he appeared that he would rather not answer correctly. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes, but otherwise showed no reaction to his choice to feign ignorance. Hermione was therefore declared the Gryffindor representative and made her way to the center of the courtyard.

The Hufflepuff representative, a sandy-haired male Hermione didn’t recognize, was waiting there already. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were still deciding on their choices. The Ravenclaws appeared to have offered the opportunity up to all years, so the questioning was taking longer than it had for Gryffindor. Slytherin House, meanwhile, had formed a circle and there seemed to be a heated argument going on amongst the upper years.

Finally, Calliope emerged as the Ravenclaw winner, though it appeared she had only just edged out Elpida and Mateo Reinero, both looking disappointed and frustrated with themselves. As Callie came to stand beside Hermione, she followed Hermione’s confused frown in the direction of the Slytherins. Severus was snarling at John Avery III, who was wearing a smug look on his face.

Calliope said, “They’re going to lose.”

Hermione turned toward her. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Not as much about my own ability as I am about their methods. Watch. You’ll see what I mean.” Hermione looked back to see Snape stalking away from the courtyard angrily and Regulus Black emerging as the representative.

 “He’s a sixth year.” Hermione commented, cocking her head in assessment. “He must be very bright to beat out all the others.”

“No, they didn’t use the same methods. He was elected by popular vote,” Callie explained. “Weren’t you elected too, Thornburg?” She asked the Hufflepuff nearby.

“That’s right!” Thornburg said brightly. “I’ll do my best for my house.”

“He’ll probably lose too,” Callie whispered to Hermione. “Popularity won’t determine skill.”

Because Regulus is in charge of recruitment, perhaps? Hermione thought to herself. This way the whole school will know his name even if he doesn’t win in the end? No wonder Severus is upset. Regulus doesn’t need the money even if he does win.

Professors Flitwick, Sprout, McGonagall, and Slughorn began the questioning as all of Hogwarts looked on and cheered on their own House representative.

As Callie so astutely predicted, the boys were quickly wheedled out. First Thornburg on a fairly simple Charms question, then after a few rounds, the younger Black on a somewhat more difficult question regarding runes.

Hermione was given the Quidditch question, and she could feel Callie’s smirk from two yards away.

“This seeker for the Grodzisk Goblins recently had a move named after him and added to the book, Quidditch: An instructive guide.” Professor Sprout read the question off a piece of parchment that had just been shoved into her hands by Hooch, who was cackling with excitement somewhere to Hermione’s left.

Great, well… might as well guess since I don’t know the answer. I do know the name of one move. It’s not Wonky, that Viktor kept doing- what was it? Ron kept telling me…

“Wronski?”

“I…er…” Sprout didn’t seem to know the answer either.

“YES! JOSEF WRONSKI!” Hooch shouted with glee.

“Well done, Miss Perri.” McGonagall interjected, glaring at Hooch for interrupting the proceedings. “Though if current and historical events are allowable subjects…” Minerva McGonagall narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, looking quite catlike in her pondering state. “Miss Cohen, who is…”

Hermione suddenly had trouble concentrating as her eyes drifted upward. As livid as he had been, Severus hadn’t left completely. He was just beyond the courtyard, hovering above one of the covered walkways on his broom. Perhaps not close enough to hear, but close enough to see her.

“And you, Miss Perri?”

“Hmm?” Hermione’s gaze shot back to Professor McGonagall.

“Attention, Perri. Miss Cohen does not know the answer to the question. If you do, then you will be our winner.”

“I apologize, Professor. Can you please repeat the question?” Even before she heard the question, Hermione felt that slight vertigo pull she had become familiar with.

She suspected fate gave her the win.

Flitwick repeated it instead. “Who is the French potioneer and alchemist that is known for the creation of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Hermione grinned and looked up at Severus as she answered. “Nicholas Flamel.”

The next few minutes were a haze of celebration from the Gryffindors, almost as excited as they were to win the House Cup or a Quidditch game. Hermione was rushed by jubilant friends, Marina shrieking happily, Lily and Arabella grabbing her and trying to tug her towards the cart they wanted her to choose. This was soon forgotten as Madam Rosmerta shouted out an offer of a free pint of butterbeer for all Gryffindors to celebrate. There was a roar of approval from the crowd and it began to be difficult to hear.

Snape was no longer floating above the courtyard, but Hermione’s decision about the shop of choice had been made long before.

“Where do you want your 100-galleon credit, Miss Perri?” Flitwick shouted over the din.

“J. Pippin’s Potions, Professor,” she answered loudly. Only Elpida, who had appeared beside her, took notice of her choice and gave her an exasperated look.

After some obligatory celebration which included grabbing food for lunch from a few different carts and chatting with Elpida about the Department of Transportation’s requirements, Hermione was able to sneak away into the darker cutouts of the covered walkway surrounding the courtyard, where she anticipated finding Severus.

He was waiting for her, leaning against the stone wall quietly, hands in his trouser pockets.

“Here!” Hermione excitedly thrust a scroll of parchment into his chest. He had to rapidly take his hands out of his pockets to hold both it and her smiling figure launched against him. “One hundred galleons should certainly be enough money to purchase an ingredient store and books for an apprenticeship!” She beamed up at him, pleased she could help in this way.

“No.” Severus appeared touched, but unsurprised by her generosity. “I won’t take an opportunity from you. You could use it for-”

Hermione barked out a surprised but congenial laugh. “What? You won’t want me giving up opportunities for your sake?”

She grinned at him knowingly and he couldn’t help but slowly smirk back at her, given their last argument.

“Please take it,” she said softly, brushing his face softly with her glove. “Like I took the feather.”

Severus crushed her against him fully and kissed her. After a few long and languid kisses, he slowly pulled away, keeping their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. His eyes held much expression, as if he had much more he wished to say but decided against it. After Hermione was nearly lost in those dark eyes, he pulled his head back and cleared his throat.

“However,” he swallowed, “there is still the rare ingredient or potion. This,” he held up the parchment, nodding to it before placing it in his inner robe pocket, “will be sufficient to purchase a basic ingredient bank, books, and perhaps even supplies to brew something rare enough to present for the apprenticeship…”

“But?” She frowned, wrinkling her nose.

“But there is still the time it would take to brew that. For example, Felix Felicis is six months if done perfectly the first time, let alone allowing for repeat trials of the initial stages. It is March now, and I would need to be prepared to begin the apprenticeship in August. July would be better.” Severus sighed and brought his hand up to brush away a curl of Hermione’s that was loose from the bun under her hat. “Delay may still be necessary.”

“Are you trying to delay, Severus?” Hermione asked quietly.

Severus’ lips tightened. “I would not toy with you-”

“No, no, I just mean… what do you prefer? Am I pushing a timeline on you?”

He relaxed. “No, I simply wish to do it all correctly.” He paused before nodding slightly. “I do… I do loathe the thought of being parted from you… but I am not deceiving you about the necessary steps.”

“Severus,” she brought both hands up to his cheeks and held his face. “If you will not take the Firebird feather-”

“I will not,” he said heatedly.

“Then I have a gift for you,” Hermione continued without skipping a beat. “Please do not make me insist on your having it…This…gift… I will not beg…” Hermione had begun to blush and she had unwittingly succeeding in getting Severus to sport a confused look in response to her sudden change in demeanor.

“Hermione?” She was very red now and could not look him in the eye, and despite still holding his face in her hands she was looking off to the side.

When she finally spoke, it was quite rapidly. “If it is as you say that the rare ingredient must only be presented as credential and never need be used, then I freely offer it to you.”

She buried her face in his chest, her hands slipping down to his shoulders. Severus rubbed her back gently but after a few moments, cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, darling… I don’t believe you actually told me what it was you were offering me.” He said, half-amused, half-baffled.

She whispered something into his cloak.

“Come again?”

“Sanguine Virginis,” she whispered a little louder, turning her bright red face upwards and finally meeting his eyes. “Virgin’s blood. Don’t make me insist.” She buried her face back into his chest as he held her closely.

Severus’ face slowly went through phases of stunned shock, elation, and determination.

“Hermione,” he said hoarsely, “you are… you…”

A shriek pierced the courtyard. Hermione gasped and immediately pushed away from Severus and took off running. After a muffled curse, he dashed after her, easily catching her up with his long strides. They came upon Lily and Marina crouched over Arabella, who was lying on the ground, shaking violently.

“She’s been cursed!” Lily shouted. “It came from over there!” She pointed to Severus’ left and he went running in that direction, wand at the ready.

“LILY! BEHIND YOU!” Marina screamed, pointing in the opposite direction.

A dementor was gliding toward Lily, head now turned around to see it. She was still crouched down over Arabella, and not in an easy position to twist and stand. Lily’s mouth opened in further shock, clearly not yet prepared to leap into action.

“Expecto Patronum!” Hermione leapt in front of Lily, thrust out her wand, and shouted out without thinking, her heart pounding with adrenaline. A bright white light burst from her wand, quickly taking shape and pursuing the dementor head on.

 The cloaked dementor retreated immediately but oddly turned into whisps of smoke, dissolving into a dark-haired figure which lay on the floor, bleeding profusely from the neck and spitting out blood.

“Riddikulus!” Hermione shouted quickly, hoping no one had figured out what she had. Nothing could make that scene funny for her, and it seemed the boggart knew it. With a pop the figure extinguished.

Hermione’s patronus galloped up to her after performing its duty against the faux dementor and, still in shock from what had just happened, let alone the form she saw, she couldn’t think what to do.

“Pomfrey.” She turned to see Severus back at the scene, having heard the commotion and realized the perpetrator of the curse was long gone. He was gripping his wand tightly, looking almost angry. “Tell it to fetch Pomfrey,” he said coldly.

“I- yes.” Hermione turned back to the patronus. “Go tell Madam Pomfrey there’s a student who’s been cursed.” She watched the silver stag gallop outward and upwards toward the hospital wing.

Lily and Marina were crouched over Arabella, muttering countercurses to no avail. Severus simply stood by watching Hermione stonily.

“I- it wasn’t really a dementor, it was a boggart.” Hermione said monotonously.

“I know!” Lily said exasperatedly over her shoulder as Marina took over trying spells. “I’ve always been afraid of them- heard about them since- well, before Hogwarts, at least. I’m sorry if that confused you, Annie, but you had a handle on it.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t figure it out, Lily!” Marina whined frustratedly. Lily glared at her and tried a few more spells as Marina explained, “we were all just chatting, the three of us and someone hit Arabella from behind.”

“They must have released the boggart beforehand as a distraction- or gotten someone else to do it,” Hermione frowned, trying to puzzle out the situation.

“Your patronus is a stag.” Severus said flatly. The other girls must not have heard him, but Hermione blushed. She understood what that must mean.

Of course, it’s a stag… because his is a doe. He’s still in love with Lily… Severus will always be in love with Lily. And here I’m offering him my virginity…

Once the hospital matron arrived, Hermione followed Madam Pomfrey and the girls to the hospital wing silently, thoughts flooding her mind and nearly drowning her in anxiety and confusion.

Was this attack meant for Lily?

I should have been here! I need to be more… vigilant. Constant vigilance! Remember what the mission is for! Not for Severus, but for Lily. For Lily and James Potter.

So Harry can exist. So Harry can defeat Voldemort.

It was so easy to forget about all of that now.

Severus remained behind. He watched the Gryffindor girls hurry away as he was left in the cold, darkening courtyard.

Potter. Fucking potter yet again.

He slumped against the stone wall.

There was another, she said. Though nothing ever came of it. Potter is the bloke she knew from before. Must be with that patronus. How common could it be?

He snarled. She could have met him anywhere. Italy, England, bloody Antarctica with the money he comes from, he can travel the world and get any witch he wants.

I’ll kill him, then she can get over him. I’m not having him as a rival anymore, the prat. He can’t have all the women here. Yes, I’ll kill him, that’s it.

He exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.

No, wait, Severus, don’t burn the world down yet.

She’s chosen you. Keep at the pursuit. She wants a full magical bond with you! An offer to join the bloodlines…

Yes, the patronus is a stag, but hearts can change. Even if she loved him before, even if she loves him now, her heart can change- she said she was in danger of falling… Surely her heart must be close.

Severus lifted himself up, his throat still tight, but his fear of losing Hermione had morphed just as quickly into determination.

He couldn’t push Hermione away now out of resentment or fear, no matter what his instincts were telling him. After all, then he would lose her completely.

She must stay away from Potter.

Chapter Text

“I don’t recognize the curse, Albus,” Madam Pomfrey whispered to the headmaster as she glanced down worriedly at the pale figure of Arabella Cook. “She’ll have to be transferred to St. Mungo’s immediately.”

“That’s better for her at any rate,” Professor McGonagall chimed in from Pomfrey’s right. “She’s got family at St. Mungo’s- they’ll make sure she gets the best of care and frequent visitors.”

“Family and healing staff only,” Dumbledore said seriously. “We can’t be too careful. This reads of something stronger than a mere house rivalry. Only someone learned in dark magic could have done this.”

“You can’t suspect that he would have ordered-”

“Maybe not directly,” Dumbledore interrupted, eyes flashing behind his spectacles. “However, I can- and do- suspect that someone may have interpreted this attack as a fulfilment of Tom’s wishes.”

After a few more moments of whispering, Albus Dumbledore dismissed the two women to take care of Miss Cook’s transfer to St. Mungo’s Hospital and he glided quickly towards the entrance to the hospital wing where three girls were waiting quietly and nervously.

“Alright, I’ll have you repeat your version of events again for me now, please. Miss Evans?”

“It came out of nowhere, Professor. We were in the courtyard under the covered walkway talking, just the three of us. No one else was around that we could see. We had been sitting and talking for a while and when we got up to leave, someone hit her from behind- they must have, we didn’t even hear a curse, Arabella just fell to the ground and started shaking.”

“That’s when I yelled out and Annie and Snape came running,” Marina chimed in. “We were trying to help Ari on the ground and they ran to find who it was, but the person had gone.”

“They released a boggart, professor. In the opposite direction to where the curse had come from. It was enough of a distraction to allow the person to get away,” Hermione followed up. Dumbledore’s eyes bored into hers. She knew if he wasn’t satisfied now, she’d have to explain more later in private.

“And,” Dumbledore said after a pause to distill the information. “Where is Mr. Snape? He did not accompany you here.”

“No, he doesn’t know Arabella well-”

“Not even out of curiosity to see what had happened?”

The girls were silent, and Hermione could see the wheels turning in the other two’s heads. “He was with me beforehand, professor. He couldn’t have been the attacker.”

“Ah, I see Miss Perri. What were the two of you doing?”

“Just talking.”

“And that is also what you were doing beforehand, Miss Evans? Miss McKinnon? Just talking?”

“Yes,” Lily said flatly.

“It is curious that you would need to be outside in the cold and completely alone before talking to your friends. Would any of you like to share the topic of conversation?”

“No,” the three girls all answered loudly in unison.

“I see,” said Dumbledore, already having expected this answer. “Well, if you think of any new details you have forgotten, please come and see me in my office. The gargoyle will know to let you up.”

XXX

“Thank you Annie! You won’t regret it!” The blonde seemed to have cheered up.

Hermione gave Elpida a weak smile. She had finally caved to the pressure and agreed to an interview at the Department of Transportation. If she did end up working at the ministry, she’d also said yes to sharing an apartment with Elpida. Hermione knew she’d have more time left in this time period- might as well get a job and earn something.

Neither of them brought up the unspoken question- what if Arabella couldn’t be a flatmate come graduation after all? They were ignoring the situation and hoping for the best.

It had been three weeks since Arabella’s transfer to St. Mungo’s and the only news was that she was recovering, albeit very slowly. Arabella had finally woken two weeks after the attack, but was so fatigued that she could not stay awake more than a few minutes.

Hermione had noticed a change in Severus since the attack. He looked at her differently, but she, embarrassedly, felt it was a combination of offering him her virginity in a bottle and seeing that she was in love with him through her patronus- the stag patronus to his doe. So, she didn’t directly ask him about his slight change in behaviour. He did seem that he was trying to be more intentional, more affectionate, even if he was almost overtly forceful as he did so. 

She had asked him if he’d known who was behind the attack, and he hadn’t- she believed him- but he promised he would try to find out. Between him finishing up his apprenticeship application and his long sojourns in the room of requirement, that is.

Hermione was growing increasingly worried about what Severus’ Death Eater assignment was and what he could possibly be using the room for if it was no longer primarily for brewing. With the J. Pippin’s Potions certificate and the sanguine virginis, he would have everything he needed to start his apprenticeship over the summer.

Easter holidays is when they would… extract the sanguine virginis. If Hermione thought about it like that, in terms of extracting a potions ingredient, then she wouldn’t have to be nervous. Why she was nervous made no logical sense anyway, as she and Severus had all but done the deed in every sense of the word. Was she even truly a virgin anymore?

Well, yes. According to the blood purity rites and the requirements for collecting sanguine virginis, she was.

Hermione, ever the prepared type, was accounting for all possibilities. Pregnancy was not a worry, as she hadn’t had menses since travelling to the past and she was able to get a potion from the hospital wing that would last two months, no questions asked.

The rest of the plan was simple enough. Hermione would stay the week of Easter holidays with Severus at his home, just as she had over Christmas. That’s when the…extraction…would take place.

She had scheduled the interview at the Ministry for the last day of break, Friday April 7, after which she’d return to Hogwarts with Elpida for the weekend before class started again Monday. Elpida would escort her into the ministry and introduce her to the department heads, she had told her. Ellie also grudgingly agreed to be Hermione’s alibi for the entire holiday week. So again, no one had to actually know she’d be with Severus.

When inquiring into the other girls’ break schedules, she found Marlene would spend the week having tryouts with some of the British Quidditch teams and Marina would be tagging along, cheering on her sister.

Lily was vague about her plans, saying only she’d be spending time “with James”, but a week before the break, she came into the dormitory pale as the Grey Lady and started to pack frantically.

“Car crash,” Lily whispered. “Multi-car pileup.”

Lily Evans’ parents had been killed.

Ostensibly a muggle death, however, based on the glances around the room and the looks from Calliope and Elpida when they were told later in the library, everyone suspected it was retaliation. Lily was dating James- quite seriously from the looks of it- and James had stuck his neck out with that article.

Severus grunted thoughtfully when he heard the news.

Hermione looked at him inquisitively. He shrugged at her. “I had no issue with the Evans’.” He said quietly. “They were kind, if a little naïve.”

“Naïve?”

“What would you call parents who would go along with sending their daughter away to a witch boarding school with very little explanation and evidence about the wizarding world?”

Hermione frowned and glared at him. “You don’t think very highly of muggles, I know.”

“I would be more protective of my children.” He said calmly.

She swallowed and looked away, not wanting to go down the rabbit hole of knowing Severus would be bitter, childless, and single in twenty years.

“It was retaliation, wasn’t it?” She whispered across the table to him. They were in the library again, after all.

“Perhaps,” he drawled.

“Because of James- and his article,” she pressed on, bringing her eyes back to look at him. “And Lily’s connection to him?”

“It is possible,” he said neutrally.

“I wondered if even Arabella’s attack was an accident,” Hermione rambled on excitedly, “if it was a misaimed curse meant for Lily instead!”

Severus’ brow wrinkled and he began to drum his fingers on the table lightly in thought.

“Continue,” he said quietly, sounding very much like a teacher telling her to reason out her argument completely.

“Well because it wasn’t done to hurt Arabella or Lily at all, but to hurt James! Could that be a possibility? It was rather dark in that part of the courtyard all in shadows-”

Severus got an odd look on his face, barely perceptible, but she could tell there was a train of thought he was following.

“And there were the three girls there,” she said quickly, determined to keep talking and see if she could give him some realization. “Arabella, Marina, and Lily. Of the three of them, it makes most sense that Lily would be the target because of James, it’s just confirmed now because of what happened to her parents that she’s probably a target-”

“Of the three…”

“Yes! Everyone likes Arabella, and Marina doesn’t have any enemies. It’s most likely that either it was a misfire and they meant to hit Lily or they just confused her for Arabella in the dark-”

Suddenly Severus stopped tapping his fingers and she saw it. No tell except the glint in his eye- a glint of fury that showed he had figured it out.

“You know.” Hermione stated, staring daringly at his face.

Severus gave her his most threatening glare. “Nothing confirmed.”

He began to gather his things and stood, hurrying quickly and menacingly away from the library.

Before the week was out, Professor McGonagall confirmed that Arabella Cook had made an extraordinary recovery. She expected (with her staying at St. Mungo’s for a few weeks and doing independent study to catch up in her classes) that Arabella could sit her N.E.W.T.s with her fellow students and graduate on time.

Hermione was able to approach Professor McGonagall alone after class. “Did they figure out what the curse was Professor?” She stood in front of her desk as McGonagall sat.

“Oh yes! And what a relief it’s a simple student rivalry we’re worried about, not from any group... more sinister.” Hermione looked astounded and she clarified. “Thankfully, Miss Perri, it was an Amoralato spell, most likely performed by a romantic rival.”

“Amoralato?”

“Yes, also known as the heartsick curse. Quite popular in Medieval times- it was used to separate two lovers who were from different class systems so they would not elope together. An uncivilized way to promote arranged marriages. I imagine a pureblooded student might have stumbled across it in a parent’s library.”

“Fascinating, Professor. I’ve never heard of it.”

“Thankfully, love curses are not a covered subject at Hogwarts.”

“But Arabella didn’t seem to be… heartsick or heartbroken…”

“Well,” McGonagall continued in her Scottish brogue. “Something went wrong this time- I don’t believe Miss Cook has a lover she hopes to elope with, after all, so the caster clearly did something incorrectly. Perhaps out of a misplaced jealousy they didn’t realize she was not a true rival? However, once the staff at St. Mungo’s figured out what the spell was and that it was improperly cast, they could correctly target her heart and stomach and heal those areas. She should be back in a few weeks.” McGonagall looked down at parchments in front of her, apparently done discussing the matter.

After a pause, Hermione continued hesitantly. “So… Professor, how is the spell supposed to work?”

McGonagall looked up at her sternly. “I don’t quite know Miss Perri. I explained the mechanics I am aware of and the spell itself sounds barbaric. I hope if you hear of any information as to who did this to Miss Cook and why, you will report it. This is not the spell to deter a romantic rival with.”

After some time-consuming searching, Hermione found only a brief explanation of the spell in the library. In was in a book entitled History of the European Royal Wizards.  

“Amoralato was used on Catherine de Barzini to separate her from a servant she had fallen in love with so she could marry Apollonius Merkouris and join the two great families. Catherine became so physically ill at close proximity to the servant that he became completely undesirable.” Hermione read the passage out to Elpida, who had been helping her search. She knew Severus wasn’t going to enlighten her, after all, and it seemed that Ellie was the main partner in everything that Severus wasn’t.

“So we are looking for someone who… tried to get Arabella to fall out of love?” Elpida asked, her short blonde hair swaying as she tilted her head in thought.

“Arabella isn’t in love with anyone.” Hermione agreed with the unspoken tone. It didn’t add up.

“Or rather, she’s in love with everyone. She’s a flirt.” Ellie shook her head, sending her hair flying again. “Possibly she flirted with the wrong boy and there was just a jealous hanger-on.”

“Possibly,” Hermione muttered, biting her lip.

“She’ll make a full recovery though, I hear. She’s probably chatting up all the healers now she’s come to just to try to get tips on healing methods- she’s got family working there too. I bet she can still room with us in a few months.” Hermione mmhmmed and Ellie continued. “Just think, in a few months she’ll be back at Mungo’s for work and we’ll be working at the Ministry so we can meet over lunch in London and figure it out then.”

XXXX

Easter holidays arrived within an instant, it seemed. Perhaps the year was also going faster because it had already happened in Hermione’s timeline perspective- who knows.

She was still occasionally dealing with the strange fate feeling, vertigo-like, that made her feel her thoughts or actions were out of her control because they had already happened or been destined to happen. It wasn’t all the time, but she felt it the most when it came to interacting with people she knew in the future. Severus especially, but it would happen sometimes in class with McGonagall or Karkaroff. She thought it was only when they used a phrase or a gesture she recognized from a future interaction, because they didn’t have much significance to her personally.

Karkaroff was acting very strangely in class, but all she could do was report it to Dumbledore, who seemed to have already heard about it. He was very quiet and subdued, not at all like his previous braggart self. He appeared to be very tired as well, the bags under his eyes confirming his lack of sleep. Not much to go off of. Could be an indication he was now a stressed-out Death Eater, or could just be some personal problems.

Lily had been allowed to stay away for the week and through the Easter break before returning afterward for exams. She was coordinating with her sister to plan the funerals and divide up their parents’ estate which sounded very stressful. Marina read snippets of a letter Lily had sent her to Hermione. It sounded like Lily was grieving but even more anxious to be managing her sister, Petunia, who was understandably weepy, but not as understandably screaming at everyone involved from the funeral director to the estate solicitor.

James and the rest of the gang were shaken up, but the terrorizing they were doing to let off steam was to Slytherins who were not Severus and Severus seemed too busy to care. The apprenticeship was secured with the promise of presenting a sealed bottle of sanguine virginis. Severus made a point of showing Hermione that Monsieur de Grasse sent an approval letter and confirmed that Severus’ ingredient of choice was only to recommend him and would not be used or confiscated. Hermione hadn’t been worried about it, as she’d seen it sitting in his office in the future, but he was angrily insistent on proving it. He did not want to appear careless with this gift.

As for the extraction of the gift…

She packed and left for the holidays with Ellie promising again to meet her at the Ministry for her interview in a week and to cover for the missing week if she was questioned.

The rest of the getting to Spinner’s End and the settling in and the afternoon tea was a bit of a blur as Hermione’s nerves were seriously getting to her. Her heart was racing like crazy, but that wasn’t too out of the ordinary when Severus was around. She really had to get a grip.

“So,” Severus said languidly as he set down his mug of tea. “What do we do first?” He glanced at her with a raised brow and such an innocent expression.

“Oh stop!” She blushed and tried to look angry, but it turned quickly into a smile.

“What? How do you want to spend the time? Reading, studying I know will happen for sure…”

“I want to get it out of the way,” she blurted out.

His face blanched immediately. “No no no, I didn’t mean it like that!” She got redder, and tried to backpedal quickly. “I just mean- oh it’s not… not a very natural way of… going about it, I mean and… It will be better to just get it over with so that it can be…. More… natural afterwards… I suppose.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “So we are sure we are speaking about the same thing, you mean that it will be better to extract the sanguine virginis sooner rather than later.”

Hermione turned redder, if possible, but nodded emphatically.

“Forgive me if I overexplain, I just want to be sure there are no misunderstandings… what do you know about sanguine virginis, Hermione?”

She took a deep breath and, her eyes fluttering partially closed, recited what she knew.  “Virgin’s blood is a misnomer because it is not blood, nor only of the virgin. It consists of the seminal fluids of the virgin and the one… deflowering. It is extracted through mutual sexual congress.”

Severus smirked, giving out a little huff. “A textbook definition, to be sure. What method of… extraction and bottling did you imagine I would be using?”

“I… well… I don’t know the bottling method…”

“Hermione,” he laughed abruptly. She was startled to see him smile so widely.

“What?” Her embarrassment was turning to annoyance and quickly growing. “That’s not readily available in library books!”

Severus’ laughter began to wind down and he stood to pull her into an embrace. “Extraction is done in the normal way, witch,” he chuckled.

“The normal way?” Hermione said, puzzled.

“You do know what the normal way of deflowering is?” He continued to smirk at her.

She gave an irritated huff and batted his chest lightly. “Yes! Of course I know! But that… that wouldn’t allow for sterile collection and contamination could occur from fibers in the sheets or clothing…”

“It’s magical. It’s not that complicated.”

“Stop teasing me, Severus!” She cried, hitting his chest again. But the anxious mood was broken, so she couldn’t stay angry, especially with him holding her and chuckling. His eyes were shining, and he was clearly enjoying riling her up like this.

Once she stopped struggling in his arms out of dual mortification and consternation, he kissed her gently and stroked her hair.

“There is a spell that I can use to remove all the spilled fluids from the sheets. As long as there is an ingredient bottle by the bed, the rest can be done in the… natural way, as you put it.”

“Oh,” she mumbled from his chest, now only mortified.

“There is one more thing.” He cleared his throat. “Have you taken any contraceptive potions?”

“No,” she answered. Hermione looked up. “I brought a two-month supply, but haven’t taken it yet.”

“Sanguine Virginis will not work with any contraceptives.” Hermione waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. She looked at him quizzically. His stoic mask was on now.

“Alright,” she said.

“You still… wish to go ahead?”

Hermione nodded. She hadn’t had a period in a few months, it should be fine. “I can take it afterwards?”

He nodded. “You still… wish to get it out of the way?”

“Yes,” Hermione whispered.

Severus pulled her chin upwards and made her look at him before kissing her lips softly.

“You are not obligated to go through with it,” he muttered after drawing back a slight distance.

“I want to,” Hermione said earnestly. “I just- I’m inexperienced.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Don’t make me laugh again,” he growled. He kissed her fiercely, pressing her to him as she felt her body melt into him, no longer anxious.

Chapter Text

Severus seemed determined to make this time as romantic as possible for Hermione. Once they were back in the upstairs room, he took care to undress her slowly. Every bit of skin received a kiss as soon as it was revealed.

He began kissing her lips softly before moving slowly down her neck. When her neck and upper chest were duly adored and her breathing was beginning to quicken, his long fingers made their way to the bottom of her jumper, delicately pulling it up. He had to remove his lips when it was taken off, coming over her head, but he nudged her down to lie on the bed just after, kissing down her newly exposed chest.

As sweet and delicate as he was trying to be, he could not resist her breasts, it seemed. Once he kissed his way to them, his hands came on either side to cup and rub through the fabric of her bra as she arched into them. His mouth continued its motions around each curve and in the cleavage of her breasts, making her began to ache and tighten.

“They are perfect breasts,” he mumbled over her skin, continuing to stroke and pinch her nipples through the bra. “Full but not too large…” She whimpered, arching upward, trying to get his mouth to replace his hands and his hands to remove the bra entirely. Severus moved slowly and deliberately, however, so she began to rub her crotch up against him. With his tall body against hers, she was pushing her pelvis up against his torso. She couldn’t feel his arousal based on how far down his body was, which was even more frustrating.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“I want you.”

“And you will have me,” he reassured her, continuing to kiss the swell of her breasts and flick their points with his long fingers. “But not too quickly. I want to savour you.”

Hermione let out a mix between a moan and an exasperated huff, but she used her hands to stroke his hair. Her fingers pulled through his think dark strands and massaged his scalp. After some attention there, she gently pressed his face downward, and she could almost feel his smirk.

“Ohhh, yes,” she hissed.

He had complied, not by removing the bra, but he did replace his fingers with his lips and began to lick and suck her tits through the fabric of the bra. First the one breast got enough sucks and nibbles to cause her to arch her body roughly against him and groan before he languidly, licking, moved to the other side.

“You’re torturing me!” She whined, squeezing her eyes shut and arching up into his mouth again. She felt as if she couldn’t keep her back on the bed at all.

“Mmmm,” he hummed in his low baritone. “Delicious. I need a full taste.”

Severus pulled the cups of her bra down, exposing her fully without bothering to unhook the bra. Instead of immediately bringing his mouth to her, he held her down by the ribs and blew air on her sensitive flesh.

Hermione moaned loudly. “Severus, Severus please!”

“Please?” He asked curiously.

“Suck my tits, my god, please!” She grabbed the back of his head roughly and pushed it. He complied, taking her pink nub in his mouth and sucking, flicking his tongue back and forth.

Hermione sighed in relieved pleasure, removing one hand from the back of his head and moving it down between them to reach her jeans.

Severus, without removing his mouth, grabbed her wrist and tugged her hand back above her head, holding it there. “Ah ah ah,” he tutted after releasing her breast with a pop. “Do I need to tie your hands, Hermione? Leave that to me to take care of.”

She groaned in pleasure and pent-up desire. He slowly kissed his way back to the other breast and sucked that one languidly, still holding one hand above her head. Her other hand had remained in his hair, and she was struggling to keep from ripping those dark locks out to keep herself from shaking uncontrollably.

“Pleassssee Severus… uhhh, yes!” She was writhing beneath him as she became more and more incoherent.

His lips released her other breast with another loud popping sound.

He raised himself up, straddling her as he removed her bra completely and threw it to the floor. His dark eyes were captivating as he took in her half naked, quaking form.

As he looked down at the angel beneath him, wild curly hair splayed around her, breasts heaving, his heart burned and pounded against his chest. Perfection. Sweet, soft, rosy perfection.

“Now for the rest,” Severus hissed, sounding almost angry at her clothing. Rather than get off the bed to maneuver better, he lowered himself. After kissing her lips languidly and pressing his body against her, he slid himself down to her jeans, swiftly unbuttoning them.

Hermione panted, both hands fisted in his dark locks as he removed the offending garment, leaving her in only silk panties.

He hummed his appreciation before softly brushing his fingertips over her mound, fabric still impeding the sensation.

“Ohhh!”

“Yes?”

“More!” Hermione’s throat was dry and she shoved his face closer into her crotch, far past feeling embarrassment. Severus complied with more, but the more was still only with his fingers and only over the fabric which was quickly becoming quite wet with arousal.

“UGHH! Severus, please!” Hermione removed her hands from his hair and grabbed the sides of her panties, pulling them down. She felt Severus grab her hands, keeping her panties partway on, but she had succeeded in exposing herself to him.

Severus made a groaning sound. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He released a hand on hers in order to his insert a finger slowly inside her, spreading the juices around her folds and up to her clit.

“Please, please please...” Hermione began to chant as she writhed beneath him, still cognizant enough not to hump his face, but slowly losing coherent thought. Her hands had returned to grabbing his hair, her movement still partly trapped by her locked thighs.

Severus did not answer, but continued to slowly caress her with his fingers, his thumb finally, FINALLY beginning slow circles on and around her clit.

“Oh yes please yes there yes Sev Sev oh yes uhh!”

When she finally felt herself close, oh so so close, his fingers were gone.

She half-gasped, half-sobbed in frustration until she felt his mouth once again replace those beautiful hands.

“Severus! Yes!”

His tongue was licking its way around her folds, journeying to her clit and back, building her higher and higher. She was already shaking with desire, holding onto his hair as best she could to keep her steady.

His lips returned again to her clit and sucked, flicking it with his tongue.

“Oh yes! Severus yes yes yes yes ohhhh yes!”

She released his hair and scrambled her hands up to her own breasts to pinch and twist the nipples. His tongue continued to suck and lap at her down below, but he had tugged and ripped the panties off in his own frustration.

With Hermione completely naked, he was able to lift her hips and buttocks with his hands and help arch her pussy closer to his face. She felt him moaning into her clit as he licked and sucked, causing it to vibrate.

“Fuck yes! Severus yes love yes ohhh yes! YES! YES! FUCK GOD YES!”

Hermione came all over his face, moaning and shaking for dear life. Severus continued to lap at her, licking up her fluids as she saw small blinking lights in front of her eyes.

“Severus,” she whispered. “Severo mio.”

Somehow in her daze she managed to miss him lowering her hips, rising from the bed, and removing his own clothes because when he came to meet her on the bed face to face, he was also naked.

“Hermione,” he rumbled, voice deep with lust as he met her eyes. “You are incredible.” She felt his manhood pressed against her thigh. “If you are still sure…” Severus stroked her face with a long finger, desperately searching her eyes with a hungry but fearful look.

She kissed him, too lost for words.

He was not foolish enough to waste the opportunity and quickly positioned himself. Severus knelt above her, holding himself up and slowly as he could inserting his manhood into her womanhood, joining them officially.

“Oh, that-” Hermione frowned in surprise at the feeling as she couldn’t quite turn her brain off, needing to analyze the new sensation and ponder at how it felt versus what she had anticipated.

Then she felt him push forward and, as prepared as her body was, it took her off guard. It didn’t hurt, just… she felt uncomfortably full.

After a brief pause in which he locked eyes with her, she squeezed his biceps lightly and nodded that he could go on.

Severus lay atop her, pumping his body slowly up and down and kissing her lips as his cock slid in and out of her folds.

Gradually, it started to not feel so odd and began to feel arousing for her. It was slowly growing from feeling too full to feeling better and better, to feeling absolutely not full enough- how could he pull out when he had to stay just there- THERE and go even deeper. Experimentally, she pushed back against him as he thrust into her and they both moaned together.

“Ohhh,” she half sighed with delight.

Severus growled and sped up his thrusts. “Hermione,” he hissed at her. “Come again. Come for me again.”

“Mmmm yes Sev- Severus ohhh…”

He grabbed her hips and pounded into her, almost angrily, as she moaned loudly and arched up into him. Her hands found her own breasts again, rubbing, caressing, and playing with them directly in front of his eyes.

“Fuck,” he grunted. Her tits displayed before him were driving him further and further to the edge of insanity. His hands gripped her hips tightly and she felt his cock fill her completely.

“Uhh FUCK! You are mine, sweet witch!” Severus rumbled as he continued thrusting deeply in and out, in and out. His deep husky voice alone made Hermione shudder and finally break beneath him, crying out as he did. “My….uhh…Hermione, MINE!”

Severus lowered his head to kiss her lips as he came inside her.

Hermione whimpered as she felt him pulse inside of her, prolonging her own throbbing ecstasy for a few precious seconds. Severus lay atop her, breathing heavily as she held him from around the neck and stroked her fingers through his hair.

She barely noticed as he took care of the spell and extraction with only a slight movement and readjustment. They fell asleep together in the nude, her flushed face on his chest as he held her tightly.

Hermione foolishly persuaded Severus that she did actually need to study for N.E.W.T.s that week. This was foolish because they woke up naked together and, naturally, Severus had to make sure he had truly deflowered her. Then, both of them were an absolute mess (with greasy hair and bushy, frizzy hair respectively) and they had to shower, and why wouldn’t they do that together as well. Once showering, well, it was purely scientific, the experimentation to see if everything worked as well under water as it did over sheets…

Severus was incorrigible, she told him, though it’s not like Hermione was deterring him with that lovely pink blush and those kiss-bitten lips, he told her.

The following day, this time, she was determined to get work done. She woke up while Severus was still in a post-sex stupor. Throwing on one of his shirts and a pair of her underwear, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and began working at the table. She was able to brush up on the subjects she hadn’t been taking during the year. History of Magic, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures….

Severus came down not too long after and, seeing him come down the stairs shirtless and noting the glint in his eyes, she grabbed a few books and hurried on back upstairs.

Once she moved onto the more difficult subjects, she found herself deep in the pages, lying on her stomach peering over a Defense Against the Dark Arts book.  

“Hermione…” She half heard his voice softly call to her. Still immersed in the text, she made a non-committal sound and continued to chew on the end of her quill.

Hermione continued to read, barely noticing the light brushing sensation moving up her legs. After a few more strokes, she began to breathe more deeply through her nose, trying and failing to suppress a blush and growing smile on her face.

“Oh stop,” she said, terribly unconvincingly. She didn’t turn around and continued facing the book.

“Keep reading,” the deep voice replied, sending a chill down her body. “Don’t mind me.”

His hands kept moving up her legs til they reached her thighs. She felt both palms flat on her legs and brush slowly up to her buttocks, reaching the fabric of her panties. Hermione tensed her leg muscles and gripped the quill tightly, trying to be stoic and remain unaffected in the face of such temptation.

“What are you reading?” She heard him ask in a low voice, his hands continuing to move and squeeze each one of her cheeks. She didn’t answer, but her traitorous body did press back into his hands in encouragement.

“I can help you to recall a theorem,” his hands began to move out from under the fabric of her underwear and pull it slowly down her legs, “if you are having difficulty with one.” His molten voice simply added to the distraction.

“I… um…” She was having difficulty recalling anything right now, that was certain. She felt the fabric leave her feet and Severus’s hands linger at her ankles. Now that seemed unfair. Her ankles weren’t wet and flushed with desire right now. “I’m not- not sure,” she finally managed to say.

“Hmmm,” He murmured. “Perhaps I should see the book.”

With one fluid motion, he grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs off the bed, her upper legs stopped by his standing at the edge of the bed, leaving her completely exposed and pressed back against his pelvis. He dropped her ankles as she fell and grabbed her hips so she would land exactly right. She gave a surprised shriek as she was pulled and an involuntary “unh” as she landed, pressing herself back against him.

“The book,” he hissed, unable to pretend he was unaffected by the position he created. She could feel him hard against her bottom, gripping her hips and pressing against them.

“The book?” Hermione really had no thoughts left.

Severus, in an utmost show of magical power and prowess, Hermione realized much later when she could think about it, managed to wandlessly summon the book down the bed and rest it in front of Hermione’s face again, all while gripping her hips and pressing his manhood against her.

“Read,” he hissed at her. He sounded incredibly like his older, professorial self if he hadn’t been moving a hand around to finger her folds.

“Mmmph!” His fingers deftly played her folds like piano keys, already bringing her near crescendo.

“Aloud.”

“The… the stance of a…unh…. Of a defender should be with wand…ohhhhhh…. With wand out and pointed…..ohhh yes!” He’d placed a finger fully inside her and began pumping it up and down. “Please don’t stop!”

“Continue to read. You must study, after all.” His panting, raspy breath gave away his lack of control, but she was sure he could perfect this kind of torture in twenty years or even less.

“With wand out and pointed… at the attacker… for the purposes of… FUCK! SEV! YES!” Hermione couldn’t help but launch her behind into the air and push up and down against his fingers, now two inside her, pleasuring her.

“Yes what,” he growled, losing all illusion and using both hands. One inside her and one to twist and flick her clit.

“YES! YES! YES!” She rocked back and forth against his hands, using the large book only to steady herself and help her to sway. Once she starting shuddering, unable to control her shaking, Severus quickly removed his hands, dropped his trousers and entered her from behind.

“Study all you want,” he muttered as he pressed her down against the bed, rapidly pushing in and out of her. “You study… you study your books…. I…nnggh… I learn your body.”

It was a very thorough study session, as they were quite sweaty and exhausted by the end. Hermione discovered she could orgasm far more times than she thought if she were first pleasured before entrance and that particular position was quite enjoyable.

Nevertheless, she still swatted Severus’ chest in annoyance when they were cleaned up and naked together on the bed, but he was unperturbed. He grinned and chuckled at her as she gave a scowling pout.

“How am I supposed to get any studying done?” She exclaimed. “When you keep trying to… to distract me!”

He smirked at her. “I could say the same thing. Now we are both less likely to distract each other for a few hours.”

She huffed in annoyance, but it was ruined by the glow she had gotten from the bedroom studying.

 The remaining days of Easter break she was able to understand the routine.

Rise early to study before Severus wakes, shag him before breakfast, or just after breakfast, or in the middle of breakfast if he gets impatient and pushes you onto the table, and then study for a few hours until lunch. If lunch is to be followed by an afternoon nap, then you must be thoroughly exhausted enough to both sleep, so be sure to have a very intense session of studying new positions. Then, there will be enough time to cook dinner, or study while you watch him cook dinner as he’s a much better cook anyway, then eat and study for a little bit before a session of soft kissing that will certainly lead to more, but will be of a sweeter and gentler tone than the morning and afternoon bedroom study.

As much as the routine repeated, she didn’t think she could ever get tired of it if they did it forever.

For the rest of their lives.

Though she knew they couldn’t.

“Wonderful! Miss Dalton, Miss Perri, come with me please.” Thucydides Sterling nodded the young women into his office, standing by the door and shutting it behind him.

“So good to see you again, Miss Dalton. Why don’t you ladies take a seat?” They both sat in chairs in front of his desk. They were comfortable but seemed somewhat out of place in the laboratory-like office. Cyd Sterling seemed out of place as well- more the graying professorial type than the experimenter. The many clocks and watches on his desk fit his personal aesthetic far more than the remainder of the rooms they had passed through to get there.

“Now before we begin, I must ask for your wands. I apologize, but it’s procedural.” Hermione wrinkled her nose and frowned slightly, but still kept her composure. Sterling acknowledged her discomfort. “If you would feel more comfortable, I can call Delia back in to observe?”

“No, no, that’s alright.” Hermione and Elpida took out their wands and held them out to be taken. Sterling gently took Hermione’s and set it on his desk.

“Thank you,” he said in a sing-song tone, glancing down at some parchment on his desk and marking something off. He then placed her wand in a drawer in his desk and locked it. “And now Miss Dalton, if you would…” He trailed off and Elpida gingerly held her wand out.

Sterling took it, placed it on his desk and looked down at the parchment. “Let’s see… Come over here, Elpida, is this right?” He gestured for her to come around his side of the desk and view what was written on the parchment. As soon as she had, he stood up, handed the wand back to her, and said, “perfect. Wait here.”

Elpida stood behind the desk, looking a bit puzzled but still standing holding her wand. Sterling came around the desk and took her previous seat, turning it to face Hermione’s.

“Can you turn your chair this way, facing me, please Miss- thank you. Ellie, please stay where you are, and we shall begin.” Cyd Sterling cleared his throat, and… waited.

After about thirty seconds of silence that was growing a bit uncomfortable, he spoke.

“Now, Miss Perri, I am disarmed, you are disarmed, we are facing each other seated. You are feeling at ease, I hope?”

“Er…” Hermione glanced over at Ellie, who still looked confused. She shrugged as if to say, This didn’t happen to me, but go with it. “I’m a bit confused, sir, I’ll admit.”

“Not fearful, though? Sometimes these interviews can be a bit intimidating. Perhaps even shocking or unnerving. I apologize, but I don’t know your reactions, so I just wanted to put you at ease and let you know you are not in any danger. Miss Dalton- Ellie-” He gestured back at her behind the desk, “has her wand and she is your friend and my employee, so she is motivated to keep the peace.”

Sterling reached over to the desk and pulled one of the parchments off, before angling back into the seat and facing Hermione again.

Hermione was feeling a lot warier than she appeared, but she was trying her best to keep a stony expression. Think like Severus, be cool and calm!

“Department of Mysteries employment contract?” Hermione half-gasped as she read. Ellie let out a gasp as well but hers was a bit perturbed. Hermione glanced up at her, mouth still open slightly.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Ellie scoffed jealously. “I had to sign an obliviation agreement before I even knew for sure what I was being offered!”

“Well, we didn’t have to do that in this case,” Sterling replied calmly, adjusting his pince-nez. “She’s already signed it.”

“What?” Hermione blurted, jumping down to the end of the parchment and seeing her signature.

Her signature.

HER signature.

Hermione Jean Granger

“I believe there’s been some sort of mistake,” she whispered.

“No mistake,” Sterling said, just as calmly as before. “Again, remember, you are in no danger here. We at the Department of Mysteries are fantastic at keeping secrets. The Unspeakables won’t speak about it! That would be a great catch phrase,” he smiled, looking over at Ellie, “too bad no one cares about a slogan, because that’d draw too much attention. Alas, some of my ideas necessarily get overlooked.”

Hermione felt her fingers starting to go numb. She wasn’t taking enough breaths, that was it. She almost felt like the walls were closing in on her slowly.

I’ve failed, I’ve been found out. This ruins all timelines doesn’t it? What about Severus, can he be kept safe? Anyone else? Lily, James, Harry? The Wizarding…

She felt a mug thrust into her hand. Ellie was kneeling beside her. “Have some water.” The blonde was looking up at her, concerned. “Please drink something.”

Slow sips of water did appear to help stabilize the moving walls.

“Deep breaths.” Hermione obeyed, forcing herself to raise her occlumency shields.

Occlumency helped immensely with this. Her vision grew clearer, and she was aware of her surroundings again. She was seriously out of practice, forgetting to set the time aside when staying with Severus. She made a mental note that she must prioritize her meditation and occlumency shield shuffling again.

“I’m fine. I’m alright.” Hermione sat up in her chair and handed the mug back to Ellie.

“Are you sure? We can take a few more minutes…”

“No, Ellie, it’s best to get it all out, I think. That way… Hermione? Hermione can feel some peace of mind.” Sterling motioned Ellie to stand and back away again, which she did reluctantly.

“You have already signed this contract because you signed it in the future and sent it back to us here. It arrived the same day as the time return message from Elpida Dalton did.” Sterling handed Hermione the same parchment he had handed Ellie a few months previously.

Experiment #394: Time-Return Message

Subject Anna H. Perri graduated Hogwarts class of 1978. Subject alias Hermione J. Granger born 1979. Subject contract to start Friday, April 7, 1978.

Lead Time Experimenter,

Elpida E. Dalton

Sent May 21, 1987

“Now, I had never heard of either of you before, but it was clear that there were some great leaps and bounds in Time Studies that allowed for messages to be sent back to us. I sought out Ellie here first and once she accepted her contract, she brought you here for your interview.”

Hermione read through the parchment in silence until she had it memorized. She looked up at Sterling and then at Ellie, who had a guilty, pleading look on her face.

“My name isn’t Hermione Granger. It’s Anna Perri.” She mumbled, hoping for a loophole. “According to this, Hermione Granger hasn’t been born yet.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Sterling allowed calmly, folding his hands together. He said nothing else, and Hermione realized he was right in that it made no difference what her name was now. They still knew she didn’t belong here.

“What… what am I expected to do?” She said hoarsely, at least wanting to know how screwed she really was.

“Actually,” Sterling raised his eyebrows and opened his hands in an offering-like gesture. “That is really up to you. We will compensate you very well as a Time Studies subject and…” he shrugged. “That’s it.”

“What do you mean, that’s it?” The tone she let out definitely sounded like it could have come from Snape. Thinly-veiled anger and suspicion.

“We know you are a time traveler, we know you go by the aliases of Anna Perri and Hermione Granger, we know Anna Perri’s graduation date and Hermione Granger’s birth year, but apart from that,” Sterling shrugged again. “Oh wait, what else? Yes, your contract start date is today. Really, quite a cushy position because ministry retirement is in 20 years and it sounds like you could get paid out pretty quickly.”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m very serious, Miss- oh, please at least tell me if you prefer Anna or Hermione, because too many names is going to confuse me.” He shook his head congenially. Hermione didn’t answer but looked over at Ellie.

After staring her down for a little, first with suspicion, then anger, then hurt, then… some odd type of acceptance, she turned back to Sterling.

“There’s no catch?” Was it the occlumency that made her sound so terse? Really would explain the older Severus’ acerbic speaking style.

“There is absolutely no catch. In the interest of full initial disclosure, however, you may want to help us study your time-traveling experience because… we can help you! As a time traveler, I’m sure you’ve run into issues of some kind. Your backstory checking out, unfamiliarity with important dates or cultural references, perhaps any physical or mental changes that may be occurring due to time-travel side effects?” Thucydides Sterling looked excited, but wasn’t overly pushy. He did actually seem interested in helping, if only motivated by discovery.

“So, this is why you’ve been my alibi, Ellie? My ‘backstory checking out’?” Hermione glanced at her angrily again.

“Not… not at first.” Elpida said quietly, looking down. “Actually, I hadn’t thought it through all the way. I wasn’t thinking about time travel.”

“But you were thinking about it being a job.”

“Not at first. I was just more inclined to help you after finding out, even if I didn’t trust you completely. We were friends first.”

“Friendship is a good basis for this kind of working relationship,” Sterling commented. “Don’t let the words ‘subject’ and ‘experimenter’ throw you. Really the intention is just to help you with your time-traveling journey and if you throw us the occasional bone and tell us anything that can help with future time-traveling research developments that would be splendid.”

“That’s all?”

“I will write you a Ministry paycheck to cash at Gringotts this minute if you can tell us something- anything about your time travel.”

“Anything?” Hermione frowned skeptically. “Even if you already know it?”

“I’ve already stated what we know for sure,” Sterling gave her the same look as before, hands open. The look that said, Come on, this is so easy for you!

Hermione looked back at the parchment even though she already had it memorized. She decided on something they could have easily deduced on their own based on her birth year and how old she appeared to be.

“I came back twenty years.”

“Delia!” Thucydides Sterling turned and called into the hall as the door magically swung open. “Delia, please add Miss…” He looked back at her.

Hermione sighed, “For now, Anna Perri.” She glared at Ellie out the corner of her eyes. “We can’t have any slipups at Hogwarts.”

“Please add Miss Perri to the payroll!” Cyd Sterling turned back and smiled genially at her. “Welcome aboard, Miss Perri.”

She grimaced in return.

“Rosier and I have figured it out,” Snape reported. He was speaking through the Floo in the upstairs room of Spinner’s End. The shorter figure on the other end glowed green.

“Good. What do you have for me?”  

“We have an access point to the castle through his family’s estate. It should be easy enough to get everyone in place the day of and they will come in on the seventh floor.” Severus was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace as he spoke. “The overall plan remains the same?”

“The plan doesn’t concern you, Snape.”

“Fuck it doesn’t. You owe me, Karkaroff owes me, you both should be bloody lucky I haven’t blown the whole thing to shit after that mistake of his.”

An exasperated sigh came through the other end. “He was still angry about the feather-”

“Does. The plan. Remain. The same.”

“You aren’t in charge now, Snape!”

“Please,” he sneered. “You would only be so lucky if I were in charge. Yes, you are the one in charge and therefore you must answer for all the imbecilic mistakes of those made under you. I can still capsize the whole event and it wouldn’t be to your benefit at all, would it?”

A long pause from the other end of the Floo call. The voice finally caved and, resignedly, reported to Snape.

“Yes, the plan remains the same. Minister Minchum will be exposed as working alongside the Muggle authorities and the other pro-Muggle members of the Hogwarts Board. Karkaroff will list the allegations in his address, which is when the demonstrators will file in.”

“The non-violent demonstrators.” Snape clarified pointedly.

“Well, as you so aptly pointed out, people can decide on their own to go rogue,” the handler replied bitingly, voice cracking slightly. “Everyone has been given orders, but you know they’ll defend themselves if they have to.”

“As they should,” Snape answered evenly. “The impact will be made if our side can keep control of their emotions over… others.”

“Look, I’ll do what I can do, but you know how Mulciber and Wilkes can be.”

“I recommend they be in the second wave of demonstrators then.” Snape said calmly. “Have them patrol the perimeter as backup.”

“Why don’t I just tell the Dark Lord this is your show then? Then you’d reap the consequences for these recommendations.”

Snape chuckled. “Good luck with that. ‘My Lord, I’m deep undercover as a non-Slytherin, I recruited most of the transfer students and a Durmstrang Professor. I’m in sole command of multiple recruits at Hogwarts, but I handed the operation over to the Half-blood who couldn’t recruit anyone.’”

A not-so-long pause this time.

“Fine. Anything else?”

“You are still agreed to support my courtship to Perri when we meet with the Dark Lord?”

An incredulous tone followed. “She’s going along with all this?”

“She must.”

“Don’t hate me.”

“Hmph.”

Ellie and Hermione were sitting on the floor in a long hallway in the Department of Mysteries corridor while Cyd “processed paperwork”. For a magical working environment, it sure seemed to be taking excessively long. Hermione began to suspect he was leaving them alone on purpose so they could sort out their differences.

“It’s a bit ironic you’re so angry with me for keeping it a secret,” the taller girl said finally. “Seeing as you were perfectly fine lying to everyone for months.”

“Hello, nice to meet you all, I’m from the future. Please be my friend, don’t mind that I know what’s going to happen in your lives and I’m probably powerless to stop it.” Hermione grumbled sardonically. She was doing a great Severus impersonation today.

“That bad, is it?”

“You apparently live till at least 1987, so count yourself as one of the lucky ones.”

That kept Ellie quiet for a bit. Still, after a bit of silence she pressed on.

“So, there’s a good reason for hanging out with Snape so much, I gather? Something from the future that you know about?”

Hermione sighed. “Yes.”

“Not a Death Eater, then?” She received no response. “This doesn’t change things about sharing a flat with Arabella and I, does it? Honestly, it means I could help cover for you if you’re travelling. I’ll just tell everyone you’re in testing and development for the Department of Transportation, which is why you’re out of town for a while-”

Hermione turned her head to stare at her aghast. “Why do you think I should suddenly trust you?”

Ellie had the good sense to look a bit guilty. “I suppose because I’m contractually obligated to work in your best interest?”

Hermione couldn’t help but snort and give a small half-smile. “Contractually obligated.”

“That’s right. We can probably let Calliope in on the secret soon too.” At the furious look she received, Ellie put her hands up. “I wouldn’t be breaking any rules! That’s the reason I told you she was above board. I found out that Callie’s uncle works in this Department, and he’ll probably get her a job here too, come graduation. It explains why she’s so secretive and trying to pass things through her uncle first.”

Hermione groaned. “Are there any other surprises out of left field? This is too… coincidental!” Must be that pesky fate thing.

Right on cue, Thucydides Sterling opened the door beside them leading back into the offices. “Everything is taken care of, ladies! One last thing is that we need a healer contact just in case of emergency. Do you have a particular person in mind you’d want listed on file?”

Ellie started holding her sides and guffawing with laughter as Hermione sunk further down the wall. As she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, she heard Sterling say, “A junior provisional healer works fine for now! I’ll add Arabella Cook, you say?”

Despite how ludicrous it all was, Hermione did feel that she could trust Cyd and Ellie. They’d made good on the hefty paycheck for no work at all and had her look over their own secrecy bindings and contracts. No unbreakable vows, but there were some pretty nasty side effects of spilling the beans on anything they’d encounter when working with her. They would have to have their own personal potions master and healer to counteract those curses.

So yes, trust was bolstered a lot by the fine print, but Ellie had been fine about helping her at Hogwarts as well. Checking up on Callie, looking out for Lily, giving her alone time with Severus…

There would be a lead time experimenter working with her, Ellie, and Cyd as well, who would be vetted and introduced shortly. “I’m thinking about a few candidates already in the Department currently wrapping up other projects. We’ll have you meet with someone next month when you both start.”

Graduation was already next month.

That next month was in fact, an indistinguishable blur. On returning to Hogwarts, the easy spring period had given way to an unsettled atmosphere. Seventh-year students were all panicking cramming for their N.E.W.T.s and finally realizing they’d have to start careers soon, spending little time together and rushing quickly from the library to the common room after classes and meals.

Callie was rarely to be seen and when she was, appeared quite ghostlike and gaunt. Lily was coping with the recent family deaths by clinging to James to the exclusion of all others, leaving both her friends and his grumpy. Marlene had accepted an offer to play for the Sweetwater All-Stars, an American Quidditch team, and Marina appeared torn between following her sister to the States and following Peter Pettigrew around, who would probably not make it through Auror training.

It was now Elpida’s job to cheer everyone up, as she already had guaranteed employment and her N.E.W.T.s practically didn’t matter. She wasn’t bad at it. Ellie’s tall frame, affable nature, and ability to play and discuss Quidditch reminded Hermione a bit of Ron. Hermione did miss Harry and Ron, but both as friends. There was no thought of Ron being anything else now that she had Severus.

Hermione, despite herself, still felt that her N.E.W.T.s mattered. After all, she wouldn’t go to her own seventh year at Hogwarts- she’d found that much out.

She was able to sneak away from the special second Easter feast for the transfer students in order to meet with Severus in the library. As delicious as a lamb feast sounded, this was something she could miss. There was no time for intimacy, only for the quick exchange of information.

“My Potions mastery was approved.”

“I thought we already knew that. You showed me de Grasse’s letter.”

Severus’s eyes bored into hers.

“Oh. You meant… by him.” He nodded jerkily. “That’s good,” Hermione said half-heartedly. “How about everything else? Not in any… trouble?”

“No.” Severus looked as if he wanted to tell her more but couldn’t. “All… good.”

“Okay…” Hermione decided to change the subject. “N.E.W.T. studying going alright?”

“I should be fine. With my O.W.L.s, as long as I hit an Outstanding in Potions and finish the other exams with decent marks, the mastery can proceed.”

“When do you leave?”

He pursed his lips closed. “The week after graduation.”

“That soon?!” Hermione exclaimed. She let out a long sigh. “It’s just as well. Ellie got me a job at the Ministry and I start that following week as well.”

“Oh?”

“Department of Transportation.” She mumbled. “Actually,” she brightened up a little. “I’ll be travelling for work… maybe I can visit you in France.”

“Perhaps. I’ll be very busy. I want to finish the programme as quickly as possible.” At Hermione’s crestfallen face, he raised her chin and kissed her. “I just mean while I’m occupied. I still have one weekend a month. I can come to you then or you can come to me.”

“You promise?” Now that was stupid, Hermione. You aren’t going to stay long-term anyway! More promises he shouldn’t give you.

“Of course,” he whispered, fingers still lifting her chin up. “I can’t go without you for long, you know that.”

Chapter Text

Arabella had improved well while at hospital and, with plenty of study materials sent to her by friends and teachers alike, she arrived at Hogwarts in time for Sunday dinner before exams began Monday.

“Ari!” Marina rushed to hug her as she walked into the Great Hall, and the other students turned their heads to see the commotion.

“Give Miss Cook some breathing room, please!” Professor McGonagall huffed. “There is plenty of time to say hello!”

Despite the professor’s admonitions, Arabella was simply swarmed by Gryffindors a few feet later, after reaching the table. Once the crowd died down, Hermione greeted her with a hug as the other seventh-year girls had, and they all sat down together to eat. Lily and Arabella huddled together speaking closely for a few moments, as Arabella had not spoken to Lily since her parents died.

It was a bit emotional, though the food and butterbeer did help give a more cathartic tone to the meal rather than a depressing one.

As they were leaving, Arabella called her aside. “Anna,” she said, “walk with me.”

She held Hermione’s hand as if they were elegantly promenading back to the dormitories. As passersby waved and looked on, Hermione decided to feel flattered Slughorn had previously confused her with Arabella, rather than insecure. At least she was pretty enough to be mistaken with the taller brunette, who appeared quite healthy at the moment.

Arabella finally spoke when they had a bit more privacy. “Am I in debt to a Slytherin?” She tossed her perfectly curled hair, sounding unconcerned. “I would hate to find out at a later date and have no way to return the favor.”

“I- what do you mean?”

“My Uncle and his wife work at St. Mungo’s and they were advising my healing team. They were at a complete loss at what the cause of my ailment could be until they received a tip.” Arabella continued to walk and talk in an easygoing manner, but Hermione felt her hand trembling slightly and she realized her carefree attitude was all an act. “The hospital directors were showing some major donors around and mentioned a few details of my case without disclosing who I was. Apparently, one of the donors said it reminded him of a medieval love curse that causes a bad reaction in its recipients.”

“I see,” Hermione said, keeping Ari’s relaxed manner as they walked. There were occasional stops for Arabella to wave to others or say, “yes, I’m doing much better now”, throughout their conversation. “And that’s how the Amoralato spell came up?” Hermione said in a low voice once they were alone again. “The donor was a Slytherin?”

“The donor was Lucius Malfoy.”

Hermione bit hard on her tongue and squeezed Arabella’s hand to keep herself from reacting. That was the hardest thing for Hermione. Not reacting. My occlumency is slipping again! I’ve been so busy studying for N.E.W.T.s I haven’t had time…

“I will make sure there is no debt.” Hermione reassured her, having deduced as Arabella had that this must have been traced back to Severus in some way. “I had no idea, but…”

“But you have friends who have been helpful.”

Hermione exhaled and gave a small smile.

Arabella had shown she was smart enough to understand that Hermione’s association with Severus was not purely negative, at least. It seems that some of the others were able to understand this, though Lily, Marina, and the other marauders had a very tit-for-tat view of it, while Calliope, Elpida, and Arabella had grasped that there was something more subtle. When you form a relationship with someone, they do things for you that you can’t always predict. Some of those things could indeed be helpful.

Hermione decided she could be honest about that point. “I was brainstorming about what caused the attack with Snape and he seemed to have a revelation he did not share with me. If that revelation led to the cure, I’m glad for it.”

“As am I, Anna.” They had come to the dormitory, and it was clear Arabella did not want to share this with the others. “By the way, as long as my N.E.W.T.s go well, I should be fine to room with you and Elpida. I won’t be moving in as early as you two, but I’ll see you near the end of the month.”

“Oh?” Hermione frowned.

“Yes, Ellie told me you can move in next Monday. She said the flat will be ready that soon.”

It was a long week. Monday through Thursday the N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. tests were administered. There were three subjects given each day, each for 3 hours.

Monday morning from nine to noon Hermione took the History of Magic exam, followed by the afternoon Arithmancy examination from one to four, and the post-dinner Charms examination from six to nine.

After the first day, Hermione was kicking herself for deciding to test on all twelve courses. She didn’t need to do Muggle Studies, after all, that was pure puffery.

It’s too late to change the schedule now, she groaned internally.

Tuesday was Ancient Runes, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy. Astronomy might have been one of her worst scores, because she had been very mixed up about the change of seasonality (probably due to time travelling) and realized halfway through the test she had mismarked most of her constellations. She did manage to quickly double back and fix the mistakes, but it meant she only just finished the exam with no time to check her work.

Wednesday was Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies. Again, pure puffery. Care of Magical Creatures was a silly choice of exam just as well as Muggle Studies was. Firstly, she couldn’t recall why a Hungarian Horntail and a Norwegian Ridgeback had to have vastly different diets nor which region of Romania had the best flora and fauna to be used in dragon healing. However, the very frustrating part was that she waltzed into the Muggle Studies exam far too overconfidently as there were an inordinate number of questions devoted to automotive repair and how to use older model typewriters.

Finally, Thursday was Herbology, Potions, and Divination. She had originally signed up to take the Divination N.E.W.T. in an attempt to throw off anyone overlooking her academic record (“Oh, this must be a mistake- Hermione Granger would never take the Divination N.E.W.T.!” She imagined them saying) but it would also dilute her overall scores. Anna Perri couldn’t break the record for best overall N.E.W.T. score, after all, not if she were to remain unremembered. She was sure she would do fine in this regard because by the time she’d reached her Divination exam, she was done caring at all and was writing out predictions based on novels she recalled reading as a child. Firstborn child dies, wife goes mad, lover injured in a sledding accident… Yes, she did her best to bomb that one.

Hermione exited the Great Hall just after nine on Thursday utterly exhausted. She was surprised to find Severus waiting for her, leaning against a column, hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here?” She frowned, chiding him. “You should be resting.”

He chuckled. “You have more to answer for. Divination? Are you serious?”

Hermione grunted as he swung his arm around her and they began walking. The familiarity was unusual for him, but there was hardly anyone around. He steered her towards the library.

“I’m so tired, Severus.”

“I know. I won’t keep you long.”

The library was completely empty. “Nox,” Severus said calmly after he pulled out his wand. The library became enshrouded in darkness, only the moonlight streaming through the long windows lighting their path.

“Severus?”

Severus walked her quickly over to the Western corner table, lifted her up to sit on the table as she gave a surprised gasp, and stood between her legs.

“Please, Hermione. I need you.” He knelt quickly before her, long hands moving under her skirt. “Lie back.”

“Sev- Severus…oh. Ohhhh!”

He paused long enough to remove his lips to speak. “Lie back.”

Hermione obediently lay back on the library table, allowing him better access to her. After removing her knickers quickly, he scooted her bottom to the edge of the table, placed her knees on his shoulders and, using his tongue and fingers, spread her open and licked and sucked rapidly.

Hermione moaned and thrashed around on the table, too exhausted to care about the noise she was making or anything else but pure sensation in the darkness. Her hands came to the back of his head, gently pressing him onward, occasionally grasping his dark locks tightly when he stimulated her clit just right.

“Sev- Severus unhh yes, oh yes, there!” She heard him groaning into her sex, aroused by her own pleasure, and sending her further spiraling.

“Yes yes!” She arched her back upward on the table, needing friction against her breasts. Severus need no help at her quim, so her hands frantically grabbed at her own heaving bosom pushing against the fabric of her shirt and bra to stimulate her nipples.

“Severus yes my love yes! Yes! YES!”

She came on his face as he lapped it up. She felt him slowly rise as she continued quivering, but she was still lucid enough to reach out her hand for him. He lifted her up to a sitting position and she reached immediately for his trousers.

“Hermione,” he said calmly, stilling her hands, “that is not necessary-”

“Please, Severus! I need you!” She kissed him fiercely and he capitulated easily with a moan, kissing her back and letting her undo his trousers. Hermione made quick work of his lower clothes and impatiently grabbed his hips to bring his cock forward inside her folds.

The couple exhaled together in pleasure.

In the moonlight, they made love on the same table they’d met at so many times before, staring into each other’s eyes as they exchanged kisses and thrusts.

They kept the position even after climaxing. He continued kissing her gently, calling her “darling”, “sweetheart”, and “firebird”. She couldn’t stop looking into his eyes, gleaming expressively in the moonlight.

By the time she’d gotten back to the dorms, flushed and giddy, it was well past curfew and she had completely forgotten to question him about Malfoy going to St. Mungo’s.

Friday afternoon was graduation.

N.E.W.T. scores would be out in a few weeks, leaving the new graduates a short summer holiday with family and friends before starting new positions- or starting to apply to new positions.

Hermione was surprised to learn that morning at breakfast that Lily was beginning Auror training in June along with the boys.

“I want to do what I can to make a difference,” Lily said, clearly having been deeply affected by her parents’ recent deaths. It surely didn’t hurt that this meant she and James did not have to spend the three months of training apart.

Marina was also heading to training, she exclaimed excitedly. She had decided to follow Peter Pettigrew through the rigorous Auror Academy rather than be a hanging-on Quidditch groupie for her sister Marlene. Hermione nodded at the news, but she didn’t think Pettigrew had become an auror in the end, so she wondered how that would end for Marina. At any rate, N.E.W.T. scores would dictate final entrance to the Academy so it was still possible that would bar someone at the last minute.

At the end of breakfast, Elpida grabbed Hermione and waved a letter at her.

“Just got this in from Sterling. We need to go into the office.”

“Today? He knows we’re graduating, right?”

“Yes, but we’ll be back in plenty of time if we leave now.” She leaned in close so they wouldn’t be overheard. “He wanted us to meet with the Lead Time Experimenter he’s found before we start next week.”

Hermione frowned. “I’m skeptical.”

“Cyd likes that.” Ellie grinned congenially, her short blonde hair swaying. “Me too.”

They met back in the Great Hall within a half hour before walking together to the Hogwarts Gates to apparate to the Ministry.

They passed house elves magically levitating chairs towards the lake, heading towards a speaker’s podium already atop a small stage. The viewers would have a beautiful view of the lake down below as the speakers would look towards the castle. It was a picturesque setting, and it would look lovely in the afternoon sun as long as there was a breeze.

“Who’s coming to see you graduate, Ellie?” Hermione asked as they turned away from the scene and towards the gates. “Family, I mean.”

“My Dad’s a muggle, so he can’t come. My mum passed away when I was little, so my aunt and my cousin will be here.”

“Oh, right. I forgot muggles couldn’t see Hogwarts,” Hermione mumbled.

“It won’t hurt your backstory if your family doesn’t show up,” Ellie said nonchalantly as they walked. “You’re supposed to be here for your safety.”

Hermione sighed. She could throw Ellie a bone. “My parents are both muggles. They couldn’t come here in any time.”

Ellie’s eyes widened, realizing that this could count as a bit of disclosure from the time traveler Hermione Granger. “I- if… if you let me report that in your file, you can get paid today.”

Hermione snorted. “Maybe. Okay, now your turn. Tell me how we already have a flat available on Monday. That was fast!”

“Well, as all three of us are on payroll- you and I in the department and Arabella as our healer on standby- then we can just expense the cost of rent, especially as it helps your cover to have a home base for time traveling.”

“That is… that is convenient,” Hermione conceded. “I’m surprised the Ministry spends money that easily.”

“Well, you are pretty important. To the Department, I mean.” Ellie cleared her throat and turned a bit pink. “Look!” She directed Hermione’s attention towards the path. “It’s the minister!”

Hermione spotted some people coming away from the Gates as they walked, presumably visitors apparating in. Sure enough, Minister Minchum, a few wizards presumed to be Aurors, and a couple of other officials walked together up towards the castle, passing the girls.

Minchum was heard dictating to a witch by his side who had a quick quotes quill levitating along, taking notes as they walked. “…Dumbledore that we’re to see the seating arrangements first thing, then we can discuss the order of speeches…”

“Is Hogwart’s graduation always attended by the Minister of Magic?” Hermione asked after they had gone a fair distance past.

“Not sure,” Ellie said. “I did hear he wanted to be here for the transfer students as a show of good faith to those fleeing Eastern Europe. I think he and Karkaroff are both supposed to give speeches.”

The rest of the trip to the Ministry was straightforward enough, and the two quickly found themselves back in the Department of Mysteries.

“Ah, perfect, wonderful to see you both!” Thucydides Sterling greeted the two in the hallway. “Walk this way with me and I’ll introduce you to the Lead Time Experimenter who will be working with you. It won’t take much of your time, I know you need to be getting back to Hogwarts!”

Cyd shuffled along the hallway with them. He was slightly shorter than Hermione, who was a head shorter than Elpida.

“Cyd,” Hermione said cautiously, “I don’t think I want anyone else working on this… project.”

“You really are in excellent hands, Anna,” Cyd replied, adjusting his pince-nez. “He’s top of the line, quite good and discrete. Besides, I think you have a personal connection already.”

Hermione stopped walking, wrinkling her brow furiously in thought. This meant that Ellie walked into the office first and she heard her chatting brightly with whoever was inside. Cyd paused at the door and looked back at Hermione, gesturing her forward.

“A personal connection?” Hermione repeated icily.

Cyd succeeded in pushing her forward into the office as she instinctively checked her occlumency shields in the momentary slowdown. She had to be solidly Anna Perri, not a time traveler.

How fortunate she did, too.

“Miss Perri, let me introduce you to Mr. Rookwood. Augustus Rookwood, this is Anna Perri.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Miss Perri.” Rookwood rose from his seat and smiled courteously. He was not pockmarked yet, nor scarred from time in Azkaban. He was tall, dark-haired, and could be called handsome in a bland sort of way that probably helped ingratiate him to others. “My niece has already told me a bit about you.”

“Oh?” Hermione said, trying to be as polite as possible as she thought up her exit strategy. The last time she had seen him was in… well, this very Department… but under very different circumstances.

“Yes, she’s graduating today as well, so I will see you both at Hogwarts this afternoon. I can even escort you out if you’d like.”

“Yes, that’s right, sir.” Ellie nodded genially and looked at Hermione in confirmation this was a brilliant idea. “Callie will be happy to see you.”

Hermione’s heart rate sped up frantically as Sterling rattled on, tugging on his goatee excitedly. “Yes, but first I was hoping we could get all the paperwork facilitated so that Rookwood can come onto the project next week. I can’t disclose anything and catch him up to speed until we do that, which is why I was hoping to have you both in today.” Cyd moved quickly behind his time-piece-topped desk and shuffled a pile of parchments together, mumbling to himself.

No. No! He can’t know these things about me. He can’t know I’m a time traveler!

At the confirmation that Rookwood was indeed Calliope’s uncle, the pieces finally fit together in Hermione’s mind in quite the perfect way to facilitate a speedy exit.

Hermione turned towards the tall, dark-haired figure of Augustus Rookwood and, to the dismay of everyone present, vomited her breakfast all over him.

“Shots for strength, everyone. Drink up.” Rosier placed the bottle of firewhiskey on the common room table, next to the shot glasses. Wilkes, Avery, and Mulciber each took a glass that had been poured, but Snape held up a hand to decline.

“I don’t drink, Evangelos.”

“That’s right- I forgot.”

“A second for me then.” Wilkes clanged his glass down and picked up the shot intended for Severus before downing it. Severus grimaced. Wilkes could do without a second, let alone a first.

“Where’s Black?” Avery said, looking around. “Sleeping like everyone else?” As classes had ended for the year and graduation was not till afternoon, many of the Slytherins were sleeping late that morning.

“No,” Rosier answered. “He’s off coordinating the transfers. He worked well as a recruiter.”

“Better than you, Snape.” Mulciber smiled nastily. “You’ve been too busy with your lady friend.”

He gave a sly smile at the mention of Hermione. “At least I haven’t had to use my hand, Milton,” Severus said calmly, getting the other to drop his own smile and scowl. “I’ve still managed to be productive.”

“Don’t get started.” Rosier put his hand between the two to stave off any conflict. “Let’s go over the plan once more. We should have enough time to execute if we wait until just after you walk, Milton. Severus and I can stay with those waiting to walk and Paul,” he pointed to Wilkes, “you’re at the end of the alphabet so you can leave with John and Milton to lead everyone from the castle. If you come around the side instead of straight down the path you should be able to hide behind the trees for a bit.”

“But,” Mulciber interrupted. “We’ll be seen once we reach the lake.”

“It’s fine if you’re seen,” Rosier said. “You, Avery, and Wilkes can come back and sit down. The others will wait and come out from the tree line at the right time.” He looked pointedly at Avery. “You know the key moment during Karkaroff’s speech. We’ll wait for your signal.”

“Karkaroff is confirmed?” Avery said, surprised. “No one told me he was on board for certain!”

Rosier turned to Snape, looking for confirmation. The others followed suit.

“Oh, he’s confirmed,” Severus said, smirking. “He had some last-minute apprehension, but the handler is… handling him, so to speak.”

“Way to make an impression, Annie. Blech!” Ellie closed the washroom door as they entered and performed a few cleansing charms on Hermione’s robes. “At least it wasn’t me you chucked up on. He didn’t look very-”

“Shh! There’s no time!” Hermione performed a cleansing spell of her own before sending a quick silencing spell and a locking spell at the door for good measure. At Ellie’s confused look, she tried to explain. “What has Callie been up to lately? You see her movements better than I do as she’s in Ravenclaw. Where has she been going? Who has she been talking to?”

“I- I mean- she’s been studying for N.E.W.T.s like everyone else.”

“Come on! More specifically?”

Ellie frowned in thought, still looking suspiciously at Hermione. “I know she was working on Astronomy and Defense more than I expected.” Hermione gestured with her hands for her to elaborate. “I mean… last week she was going up to the Astronomy tower at night to study the stars and she was taking advantage of Karkaroff’s office hours to work on Defense.”

“You’re sure she was going to the Astronomy tower?” Hermione said rapidly, having started twisting her hands in thought.

“Well… I didn’t follow her or anything….” Ellie trailed off, seeing her friend’s further reaction to that news. “What is going on?”

“This is for your ears only until we get Sterling on board. Do you trust me?”

“I trust your judgment-”

“No! Don’t trust my judgment. That’s been my problem!” Hermione said bitterly. My judgment has been severely compromised this entire time. “Trust me to know the future. Rookwood is a Death Eater.”

“What?!” Ellie’s mouth hung open in astonishment.

“It’s certain. He’s one of the worst.”

“He- but- but his reputation in this Department… in the Ministry! He can’t be… he has connections all the way to the top-”

There was a knock on the washroom door. “Ladies? Everyone alright in there?” Sterling’s voice came through the door, though he couldn’t hear anything on their end with the silencing spells.

“I- I thought he was ironclad,” the blonde girl whispered, looking shell-shocked.

“Calliope has been reporting everything back to him.” Hermione said pointedly before canceling her silencing spell and calling out, “We’re fine! Be out in a minute!”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, gaze wandering around the room as she put together the pieces in her mind that Hermione already had.

Hermione was still missing some of it.

Callie has been reporting everything to her Uncle Rookwood, who is definitely outed as a Death Eater in a few years, but probably is one right now. Calliope is friendly with the Slytherins… Severus…

“Bloody Hell!”

Hermione cancelled her locking spell, and wrenched the door to the washroom open, knocking Ellie off balance and causing her to stumble. Sterling was standing there, but Rookwood was nowhere in sight, probably having left to get himself cleaned up as well.

“Thucydides Sterling! You will get no further cooperation from me if Rookwood is put anywhere near this case!” Hermione snarled, hair frizzed out and wild.

“But- but-”

“No exceptions! Write it into my contract before I say another word to you, and I’ll give you a detailed report in exchange!”

Sterling looked horrified, but nodded blankly, mouth agape. He looked as if he had greyed even more at this news (especially as this meant he would be the only Lead Experimenter on the project and it would be much more of a workload), but Hermione had already reached behind her and tugged Ellie quickly out of the room.

“We need to get back to Hogwarts! Now!”

Chapter Text

Hermione grabbed the other girl and raced down the hallway. She spat out hurried explanations to Elpida as they sped through the Department of Mysteries towards the elevators.

“Severus has been working on something all year. I thought it was Potions applications, but he didn’t stop after he got accepted to the Mastery programme,” Hermione explained quickly as they ran. “He leaves this coming week for France so what could he possibly be working on now? It’s a Death Eater assignment, I’m sure of it and-”

“And you think they’ll try to disrupt graduation?!” Ellie interrupted, not as out of breath as her shorter companion. “What makes you so sure?”

“I took all the N.E.W.T. exams! Callie didn’t sit for the Astronomy one, so what was she doing last week when she said she was studying Astronomy?!” Hermione gasped, running through the pain in her side. “If I’m right and she’s an apprentice Death Eater too, then they’re all trying to meet a deadline that isn’t N.E.W.T.s and it would have to happen before he leaves for France!”

Hermione rattled on full speed ahead despite Ellie’s flabbergasted look. “Plus Karkaroff!” Hermione exclaimed, the whole school year suddenly becoming clearer to her. “He’s a future Death Eater too- or maybe he is already, I don’t know that part yet. She was probably working on this plan with him, not studying for Defense last week!”

“I… I mean… yes, but…” Ellie still looked confused, but didn’t slow her pace. “Even if they’re both Death Eaters… Rookwood and Karkaroff… That’s still kind of a stretch. It doesn’t mean she is.”

“I know it’s a stretch! That’s been my problem this whole time! I haven’t wanted to mistrust Callie because it didn’t make sense to, it was only a- a gut feeling that something was off.”

Hermione was furious with herself because of this. She wrote off the wariness of Callie as jealousy, being overemotional… she had been worried she was acting too much like Harry would and not judging the situation enough on the evidence. Callie had been able to explain away much of her concern, Hermione just never had been able to shake the unsettled feeling.

The feeling that had first come when she saw Severus look at Callie with… admiration… trust… respect.

It was when they had fought Alexander Popov….

“I think Popov was right!” Hermione exclaimed. “I think someone probably did report his dad to the Soviet police, but it wasn’t Snape. It was Calliope through her uncle’s ministry contacts.” Hermione’s voice became gruff from being out of breath and angry.  “As a way of getting back at Popov. Both because he and his family were anti-Voldemort and because Popov attacked Snape last summer. She helped keep Snape from getting expelled, remember! She helped lie for him and break his arm!”

Ellie looked like she was beginning to agree with Hermione, remembering Callie’s insistence on lying about Snape’s broken arm and his use of dark spells. “But- but why would she… even if she’s a Death Eater, why would she bother with all of that?”

They reached the lift. Thankfully, they were still alone after boarding and riding it up to the lobby.

“Because she’s the one in charge at Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “She’s the one the others all answer to, so she has to clean up their messes. They call her the handler. Snape mentioned they had a handler once and-”

“And you kept that to yourself?!”

“I didn’t know who it was! What could I do with that information? I assumed it was just another Slytherin! It makes complete sense now that it’s her. She can send information to Rookwood who can use his ministry contacts to hurt people or find them or- or- report them to Voldemort!”

The lift doors opened and the two raced out of the lobby to the apparition point.

Ellie had stopped being confused and was brimming with anger. “If you’re right…Callie’s been passing information to her uncle this entire time! On all of us!”

“The Potters deaths being faked, even... Ellie!” Hermione gasped in realization. “Callie helped Lily’s parents relocate this fall! She knew where they would have been!”

“Maybe it wasn’t a car crash!”

Minerva McGonagall had hardly sat down in her large armchair and poured herself an after-lunch cuppa when she heard knocking at her office door.

“Hmph,” she mumbled to herself, wishing the summer break had already started. She knew she should have snuck out and roamed the grounds as a cat instead.

The knocking continued and grew more frantic.

McGonagall sighed and waved her wand to open the door. “Come in. Come in, I’m here.”

Miss Perri and Miss Dalton fell forward into her office, panting as if they had just run from Hogsmeade.

“Please, professor,” Perri panted, her curly hair wildly sticking out at odd angles. “Professor Dumbledore isn’t in his office, and I don’t know where to find him. It’s an emergency!”

“An emergency?” McGonagall rose and placed her cup down. “Alright, what is it? We’ve only got a bit of time left til the ceremony starts, so out with it.” Torn dress robes? Family member can’t make it?

“I- um…”

“Where is Professor Dumbledore, Ma’am?” Dalton interjected, looking quickly from Perri back to McGonagall. “We prefer to take it up with him.”

“He is meeting with the Minister and preparing for the ceremony,” McGonagall said tersely, quickly losing patience. “If this is truly an emergency, I can assist.”

The young women hesitated.

“It’s… it’s hard to explain.” Perri said hesitantly.

“Well do try, Miss Perri! I haven’t got all day!” McGonagall snapped in a thick Scottish brogue.

“It’s…Karkaroff.” Perri’s eyes widened as if she didn’t quite realize what she had been about to say until the words were spoken. “Professor Karkaroff, Ma’am. He’s a Death Eater and he’s in cahoots with some of the students to disrupt the ceremony!”

McGonagall came forward towards the two girls. “That is a very serious accusation.”

“Please professor! Where is he?”

“I saw Professor Karkaroff go into his office not even fifteen minutes ago to work on his closing speech for the commencement. I don’t think he has any time to plan a disruption.”

Perri perked up completely and gestured to Dalton beside her. “Please, Professor McGonagall! Come with me and you’ll see!”

Perri rushed out of the room, followed quickly by Dalton.

McGonagall, curiosity peaked, followed. She rushed down the hallways, past students chatting happily with their visiting families, dashing around corners and heading towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

When McGonagall reached the classroom a few seconds after the two who had rushed ahead, she found the door wide open and heard shrieks coming from the open door of the attached office.

“What is the meaning of- IGOR!” McGonagall gasped as she entered the office, having never experienced this in all her years of teaching.

Could they not have waited a few more hours?!

Igor Karkaroff and a female student were hurriedly covering themselves up and grabbing for their robes, clearly just having been caught in flagrante delicto by the other two students.

McGonagall collected the pair’s wands, forcing herself not to hex the man in front of her and completely missing the conversation between Dalton and Perri.

“How did you know, Anna?”

“Sometimes I don’t even know until it happens. The words just come out of my mouth. It’s something to do with the inalterable property of time…”

Severus was getting nervous at this point.

The graduates had been lined up before the Hogwarts doors and ready to process down to the lake for fifteen minutes and were starting to get impatient. Whispers were becoming loud talking and standing at attention was becoming sitting on the stone floor or leaning against the wall. Snape was with the other S’s near the latter half of the line, so he couldn’t quite see what was going on up front. Dumbledore and McGonagall were supposed to lead the procession down to their seats, but they had not yet arrived.

“Shh- we’re moving!”

There was some shuffling up ahead and the students quickly formed back into a single-file line and began to march forward. His stomach settled. Good, can’t have any delays.

Severus’ relief was as short-lived as the brief walk down to the lake. Once the graduating class was seated in the reserved chairs ahead of the rows of waiting friends, family members, and lower-year students, he could easily spot the problem.

They had been led down from the castle by the small-statured Professor Flitwick, obscured by the taller seventh-year boys walking near the beginning and middle of the alphabet. Dumbledore and McGonagall were nowhere to be seen. Severus quickly scanned the rows of students, and his heart sank to his stomach.

Hermione.

Her seat next to Pettigrew confirmed to be empty, he looked for more empty chairs. Dalton and… Cohen.

Shit.

“And what about Miss Cohen?” Professor McGonagall said tersely, seething with fury. “Are there to be no consequences for her?”

Professor McGonagall stared down Dumbledore, who was overseeing the disciplinary action from his seat. Minister Minchum, two aurors, Hermione, and Elpida stood against the wall watching as Igor Karkaroff and Calliope Cohen sat with hanging heads before the headmaster’s desk.

“Miss Cohen,” Dumbledore said, turning to her. “When did this dalliance with Professor Karkaroff begin?”

“Today.” Calliope stated it immediately, not pausing to think. She lifted her head to speak but did not meet Dumbledore’s eyes.

“Albus, surely you don’t believe that!” McGonagall cried. Dumbledore shot her a skeptical look as if to say, of course I don’t.

“Miss Perri, Miss Dalton,” Dumbledore called across the room. “Did you witness or have any knowledge of anything untoward between Professor Karkaroff and Miss Cohen before you discovered them today?”

Ellie looked at Hermione who frowned in thought. After a long, frustrated pause, Hermione shook her head. “Nothing I can think of.” Nothing I can prove, at any rate.

Professor Dumbledore sighed, looking resigned.

“As I said before, fraternization between staff and students is prohibited, but as Miss Cohen is already of age, no laws have been broken.” Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked around the desk, looking towards Minchum and the aurors beside him. “Classes ended last week and N.E.W.T.s were administered by independent invigilators. Without indication that this occurred before today, I have no evidence that this affected Miss Cohen’s grading or academic record. Do you concur, Minister?”

“I do, Dumbledore,” Minchum agreed. “However, there’s always veritaserum we could use-”

“Am I being detained?” Calliope interjected. “I have the right to request a wizarding solicitor or guarantor.”

“Sounds like she’s guilty,” grunted the auror to Minchum’s left. Hermione had scooted away from him and tried to hide slightly behind her hair when she had first seen him. Despite having both eyes, a complete nose, and all his limbs, she thought she recognized Mad-Eye Moody.

“My representative is Augustus Rookwood. He would object to my questioning under veritaserum when I have done nothing illegal.” Although Callie had thus far managed to speak in a near monotone, the last few words held thinly veiled malice.

“Definitely guilty,” Moody muttered.

“No need for that, Miss Cohen,” Dumbledore’s eyes flashed as he glared down at her. “You are not under arrest. We are not currently speaking of Wizarding laws and rights, but of Hogwarts regulations, which fall under my purview.”

He turned to McGonagall. “Minerva, she will have consequences. For now, she graduates but she may not walk with the other students. A full review of Miss Cohen’s academic record will be opened by the Board of Governors and the diploma may be rescinded if need be.” Dumbledore gestured to Minchum, inclining his head in deference. “With your permission, Minister, I’d like to ask your aurors to stay a few minutes and separately escort Miss Cohen and Mr. Karkaroff off the premises. He is no longer a professor at Hogwarts.”

Well, something had to happen, Hermione realized. No Defense professor can stay more than a year.

“Please!” Karkaroff blurted out from his seat, finally raising his hanging head. “Please, Dumbledore, I am only safe at Hogwarts! I have lost my protection and I have no other choice! If you will not take me in, where do I go but to him?!” Dumbledore’s face unmoved, Karkaroff pointed at Callie beside him. “That is why she was-”

Calliope shouted frantically, “Who even asked if it was consensual?” This seemed to have the intended result, as Karkaroff stopped speaking, dropped his pointed hand, and stared at her, horrified.

Silence engulfed the room.

That’s what’s been going on, Hermione realized. Karkaroff hadn’t wanted to join Voldemort, but Callie was trying to manipulate him into doing so with sexual favors. This is why she didn’t want it getting out she was a consort! She didn’t want it getting back to Karkaroff that there was anyone else! He had to think he was special so Callie could convince him to join the Death Eaters.

At least I’ve stopped whatever she was planning with him for today.

“Minister…”

“I agree, Dumbledore. Moody, Harrison. Pick one and escort them out. They might not be under arrest, but you can stop by the ministry. Take statements and file a report.”

“My floo is available to you. We must all be going as we are already late.”

Professor Slughorn made his way to the podium to speak and after some applause from the crowd, addressed his ‘past, current, and perhaps’ pointing to the visiting family members ‘even future pupils’.

Slughorn was surprisingly good at stalling for time, as he had much practice in regaling others with stories. Not his own stories, of course, but the stories of his favorites. He was able to generalize in this instance however and tie some anecdotes in to the general student experience of going off into the world and making something of oneself, so the stalling was not unsuccessful.

When Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the Minister of Magic Harold Minchum arrived at the ceremony, it almost seemed on cue rather than wildly late- such was the skill of Horace Slughorn’s waxing nostalgic. The Professors and the Ministers took their seats on the stage behind the podium as a few students made their way through the aisle.

There she is. Severus was practiced at not showing emotion, but even the sight of her made him clamp down on his teeth to keep from smiling.

Hermione scooted her way to her seat as the graduates clapped at the end of Slughorn’s introduction and Minister Minchum began his remarks. Elpida Dalton had similarly taken her seat without causing undue distraction and Minchum began. “Esteemed graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Today is the beginning of the journey you take to adulthood and, therefore, efficient professionalism.”

What a twat. Severus clenched his fist to keep from impatiently drumming his fingers on his thigh. He drowned out Minchum’s ode to Ministry monotony as his mind prepared.

Hermione was sure to be furious with him.

Livid.

He was hoping, however, if everyone could keep a cool head that she could forgive him quickly. If not with time to see him before he left, then at least with enough time to see him in a few weeks on his time off from the apprenticeship.

Calliope had not taken her seat yet.

Severus did actually drum his fingers on his thigh now. Without Calliope, it would be that much harder to reign everyone in and restore order. Now, he was not foolish enough to imagine that the demonstration would be entirely peaceful (the majority of the demonstrators young, disaffected men) but with himself, Rosier, and Calliope he was hoping it would stay mostly non-violent once the others arrived. There would be an airing of grievances, of course, and certainly a few skirmishes, but that was a small price to pay for revolutionary action.

Bruises, curses, hexes, even a broken bone or so… only minor injuries. Nothing more than I’ve received myself simply for attending school.

He caught sight of Potter’s dark, tousled mop and glowered.

Severus had many reasons to despise Potter and his friends. Potter was currently seated next to Selena Pinker, Hufflepuff. Anna Hermione Perri was on her other side.

Before this school year, Potter’s relationship with Lily Evans would have utterly destroyed Severus, but now it was Potter’s relationship with Hermione that was doing it. Despite his efforts to pursue Hermione fervently while ignoring the specter of James Potter, the doubts and insecurities that had surfaced in March remained. Hermione’s patronus had been revealed as the stag, she had asked Severus to protect James Potter, she had stayed close to the Marauders despite admitting discomfort with doing so, and she admittedly had fallen for someone before she had come to Hogwarts.

It all fit. It all condemned James Potter, and if Severus would be lying if he wasn’t taking some sick pleasure in becoming a Death Eater simply because it would rankle him.

Severus’ musings succeeded in distracting him. As applause for the fool running the government died down, the first row of students stood to walk the stage as their names were called by Professor McGonagall.

First the A’s, then the B’s. Black strutted across the stage to Gryffindor cheers, grinning cheekily and lapping up the attention. Then, the C’s. Severus realized something had gone utterly, utterly wrong.

“Calliope Malkina Cohen. In Absentia.”                           

Applause, but some confused looks and glances back and forth. Professor McGonagall looked unsurprised and merely paused for approximately the same amount of time she had for the other students before continuing. Rosier, sitting in the row in front of Severus, turned his head to the side so he could shoot him back a worried look as McGonagall moved her way through the alphabet. Severus heard Dalton and Evans being called but could hardly pay attention after he realized the other problem.

Karkaroff was missing.

Severus gritted his teeth. Karkaroff was supposed to give the closing speech! He was supposed to rally the crowd by exposing Minchum’s lies! Only then were the Death Eaters supposed to swoop in and offer an alternative to a muggle-dictated Wizarding society.

There was still time. Perhaps Karkaroff was similarly delayed, as the other professors had been. It was wishful thinking, but that was all Severus had to go on at this point.

Lupin and both McKinnons walked, followed by “Milton Terrance Mulciber.”

Severus watched Mulciber leave the stage and nod to Avery who had already returned to his seat. As the next row of students stood to line up, they made their way to the back of the rows, presumably to get Wilkes and head quickly back to the castle. The students in the row in front of Severus stood and made an orderly line to walk across the stage as the previous row began walking.

“Anna Helene Perri.” Severus watched her smile and walk across the stage, a bouncy quality to her walk. It was not lost on him that Hermione was not announced as her middle name, though perhaps she was being overly cautious. They had the ability to request another name if asked. He would walk as “Severus Prince Snape” to drive home to the pureblood Slytherins that he belonged with them.

After Potter pranced across the stage to receive his diploma, though not nearly as obnoxiously as Black, the other row containing “Mateo Ignacio Reinero” began walking, allowing Severus’ own row to stand and get into line.

The Fates gave him some fortune that day, despite how it all ended. He was able to walk the stage, McGonagall called his preferred name correctly and the Slytherins clapped. He saw Hermione clap as well while Potter shot her a stern look, which made him smirk as he accepted his diploma from Dumbledore.

He had just returned to his seat when he heard a shout from the row behind him.

“Down with Minchum! Down with muggles! Magic in the Ministry!”

Severus jumped to his feet, drawing his wand and turning to see Paul Wilkes rushing down the center aisle to the stage towards the now-seated Minister of Magic.

“Stupefy!” The troll-like Wilkes pressed on, not immediately stunned by just one auror, giving enough time for Avery and Mulciber to emerge from the tree line with masked backup, shouting and brandishing their wands. Wilkes pulled himself onto the stage, crashing into the podium as he finally succumbed to the stunning spell.

It was instantaneous, the shift in tone at the sight of the Death Eater masks running towards the graduates. Students and watching family members screamed and scattered, some running away from the castle towards the pitch, some trying to run for the castle and realizing the Death Eaters were blocking their path.

Though masked, Severus recognized Bellatrix among the Death Eaters. It was hard to miss her as the only female there.

Plus, she identified herself by cackling loudly and casting a Dark Mark in the sky over the lake.

Hermione quickly crouched down behind a chair to avoid a blast, sending out a shield charm over herself. Spells were raining down from all directions- it was difficult to distinguish between friend and foe in the haze of smoke and lights.

Severus- no. No, I need to find Lily.

From her position, she was safe, but she couldn’t see where anyone else was. If she could make her way toward the stage, or even to a tree, she could get some height in order to spot Lily and make sure she was safe.

“Annie!” Marina was beside her, crouching. “What’s the plan?”

“Find Lily!” Hermione shouted back at her through the yelling around them. “She and James are targets!”

“Right! Come on, Peter!” Pettigrew had been crouching behind Marina and he followed her obediently. Hermione gave a very Snape-like sneer at the sight of him scurrying away in Marina’s skirts, before dashing in the opposite direction.

The bright afternoon sunshine and the still, shimmering lake water made a stark contrast to the chaotic scene. Overturned chairs and podium, screams coming in all directions, people casting spells and dodging between seats, the stage, and the tree line. Hermione was able to parry and dodge a few hexes aimed in her direction as she made her way back to the stage.

“Expulso!” Remus Lupin jumped forward to join her. Arabella was not far behind him, though James and Sirius were nowhere in sight.

“I’m going to the stage!” Hermione cried. “Cover me!”

Arabella quickly shouted out a spell and waved Hermione forward.

Hermione heard spells whizzing over her head as she ducked and ran, blindly shooting jinxes to the side of her before she leapt and scrambled up the stage. She dove behind the podium, which a few teachers were currently using as cover.

“Perri!” McGonagall was among the group hiding behind the podium and trading off shooting spells. “You told me Karkaroff was a Death Eater! Was he behind this?”

A blast to the side of them prevented Hermione from answering immediately. McGonagall cursed and shoved Slughorn over to allow her to send something back. As McGonagall stood, Hermione stood behind her, scanning the surrounding battle quickly. She spotted a flash of red hair running towards the edge of the tree line, in the direction of the castle.

“I think so! I’m heading to the castle!” Hermione shouted, throwing a jelly-legs jinx at a stout Death Eater.

McGonagall shielded them both from a hex. “Go Karkaroff’s office and ward the floo- that may be their way in! I trust you know how to do it?” She shouted.

“Got it!” Hermione ducked and covered her head as she jumped off the rear of the stage.

Severus was running for the tree line. He had been reevaluating as he went, but his gut instinct was to defend everything sent his way until he could find Rosier. No attacks.

He had not been so naïve to think there would be no tussle in the protest, but if all had gone to plan, at least some of the crowd and some of the students might have been convinced by the anti-government argument.

For now, he could just hope to stay neutral enough to avoid getting arrested. He couldn’t afford to piss anyone off any further.

Although, he thought wryly, political prisoners make for a good rallying cry.

Once he made it to the trees, he could get cover long enough to make it back to the castle.

He reached the nearest tree and darted behind it, glancing back at the graduation stage and seating. Most of the participants had scattered, choosing to go for cover rather than enter the fray, but there were a few people left fighting.

“Expelliarmus!” Suddenly, hands grabbed him from behind and shoved him to the ground on his back. A sharp pain in the groin and wands pointed at his face.

“Potter,” he spat.

James Potter and Sirius Black were standing over him, Sirius had his foot pressed just below his abdomen. Severus felt the presence of a third person who was out of his direct line of sight.

“Snivellus,” Sirius said in a singsong voice. “Where are you headed?”

Severus said nothing and the pressure on his groin increased as Sirius pressed his foot further down. Severus hissed.

“Hurry James! We don’t have much time.” The third person was Lily, apparently standing watch.

“You owe me, Snape,” James said.

“Who’s the head of the snake? Who started this?” Sirius snapped. “I know it isn’t you, and Wilkes is too stupid!”

Shouts and blasts from the stage area.

“Pay your debt! Give me a name!” James yelled, leaning over and pointing his wand directly at Severus’ nose.

Sirius pressed his foot further down, the pressure on his groin becoming nearly unbearable. Severus gritted his teeth, determined not to show them how much it hurt.

The irony was not lost on Severus that Potter had pulled him from the lake and brought him from the water to these very trees where he was revived by Hermione. He had not forgotten the debt he owed to Potter, nor that Potter was holding this back for the opportune moment.

All told, the debt to Potter could be a lot worse. The plan was already spoiled anyway. Plus, this way Potter would think he got a better victory than he did.

And the debt would have nothing to do with Hermione.

“Cohen.” Severus spat. “We answer to Calliope Cohen.”

A surprised guttural “what?!” from over his shoulder came from Lily and the young men atop him recoiled instinctively in surprise. The pressure released, Severus grabbed James’ arm and pulled, toppling him and pulling his wand arm awkwardly to the side. James yelled and Sirius stepped back, not wanting to hurt James.

With his wand twisted away from Severus, James was quickly overpowered. Severus’ morning workouts over the past year had not been for nothing and brawling came in handy. He locked James in his grip using his long frame, grabbed James’ wand hand, directing him and pointing. “Expelliarmus!”

Sirius’, Lily’s, and Severus’ wands flew towards Severus, and he turned and sat on James to maneuver and grab them, taking James’ wand as well. Scrambling up, he held their wands in his left hand as he moved a few paces backward and pointed his wand at James.

“My debt is paid,” he hissed. “Now you will-”

“Severus!”

He clenched, having been caught unawares yet again. He hated being snuck up on, even by her.

“Severus,” Hermione repeated, walking quickly from behind him and putting a hand on his arm. “Give the wands back.”

“They-”

“Anna, he said Callie is one of them!” Lily yelled. Severus couldn’t tell if she was warning Hermione or slandering him for telling a falsehood.

“It’s true,” Hermione said quickly, causing Severus to turn his head to her questioningly. “I told Dumbledore. She was escorted off the grounds by the aurors.” Hermione turned to Severus, holding out her hand for the wands.

Grudgingly, he handed them to her. She quickly tossed the wands to the other three, extending her own wand in case they tried anything, but not pointing it menacingly or threateningly like Severus.

A bang coming from the battlefield urged her on. “We need to go! McGonagall thinks they’re coming through Karkaroff’s office. You all head there and ward the floo.” Hermione instructed them.

“What about him?” James said angrily. “Snape’s still involved!”

Hermione inhaled deeply and looked over at Severus.

Oh yes, she was livid.

“He’s pussy whipped, James,” Sirius grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the castle. “He won’t try anything else. Let’s go.”

The three ran towards the castle, Lily pausing a moment to look back and forth at the two of them before dashing after James and Sirius.

“You’re going to help me fix this,” Hermione said quickly, glaring intently at him. “We’ll talk more later, but for now this needs to end.”

“Agreed. It got out of hand.” Screams reverberated off the lake in confirmation. Severus grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her behind a tree, covering her with his body so no one could see her if they were looking. “I can’t do anything overtly. I can’t be seen undoing it.”

“Tell me then. Quickly!” She looked up at him fearlessly, sending his heart racing even faster.

“The room. They’re not coming through the Defense office; they’re coming through the room.”

“Our room? On the seventh floor?” That’s how he thought of it too- as theirs.

“Yes. Think of a place to be secretive or to hide something.” Severus raised his head up and glanced around, ensuring their safety. “I conjoined a wardrobe to a matching one at the Rosier estate. They’re coming through that way. Blast the wardrobe and there will be no exit.” He looked back down at her. “Even for me, so you know I’m sincere.”

Hermione didn’t answer, but grabbed his head, pulled him down and kissed him. Her kiss was teeming with anger and fear, not desire, though she threw such passion into it that Severus was breathless after only a few seconds. She broke the kiss and slipped under his arm and away, running towards the castle.

Severus turned in the opposite direction, needing now to find a Death Eater who could vouch for his loyalty.

Hermione had made easily to the castle and up the stairs without encountering any hinderances. Once inside, however, she had to twice turn around and find another way up to the seventh-floor corridor as one of the staircases had moved and another had been blocked off by a rebounding hex.

Finally reaching the seventh floor, she stood in front of the room of requirement, hesitating before pacing back and forth a few times quickly. She hadn’t seen anyone on the way up, but there might still be a guard in the room.

Give me somewhere to hide something. Somewhere to keep a secret, she repeated.

The door created, she reached for it and pulled the handle, leaning all her weight into it.

She entered a room filled to the ceiling with artifacts. Dust and cobwebs caked the floor, stacked in a maze of baubles, knick-knacks, and magical trinkets. There were probably priceless treasures in there if anyone dared to look, but it would take an archeological team.

It looks like an Egyptian pharaoh’s hoard.

A crash to her right jolted Hermione out of the trance she had been in. She ran in the direction of the noise, darting through a path of trunks, glass jars, and rusted cauldrons.

She spotted the cabinet Severus told her about. She immediately knew it was the doorway into Hogwarts as she saw a figure exiting, tripping over a pile of discarded uniforms.

“Confringo!” Not one to miss her chance, Hermione had aimed and blasted a hole straight through the cabinet door. The figure dove out of the way, but Hermione followed with a disarming spell and ran up, pointing her wand straight at them.

“You’ve had an interesting day, haven’t you?” Hermione said dryly, in a very Severus manner.

Calliope glared daggers at her. “Snape is out of his mind if he thinks I’ll support your union to the Dark Lord now.”

“Oh?” Hermione couldn’t help but feel a thrill run through her at the thought Severus would ask for that. “Tell me the truth- what’s your relationship with Severus?”

Calliope eyed Hermione’s wand cautiously.

“Nothing! Besides him being a complete pain in the arse and undermining me at every turn!” The girl spat furiously, glasses nearly fogging up. “He was insistent on telling you all sorts of things he shouldn’t have, claiming he was trying to recruit you…” Callie pushed her glasses up on her nose. “First I relented because you were occasionally helpful and you let me know what he was getting up to, but then you and he just kept causing more problems-”

“With Karkaroff,” Hermione said, something clicking finally.

“Yes,” Callie growled. “I had Igor right where I wanted him, and all the transfer students following him too and then he lost that damn feather, and he couldn’t get over it!”

“Severus took it from him.”

“Yes!” Calliope waved a hand in frustration. “So, Igor got cold feet. He wanted his ‘blessed protection’ back before he’d agree to join our cause, but Snape wouldn’t give it back! Igor tried taking matters into his own hands and forcing Snape to return it.”

She had figured part of it out. “But why would Karkaroff attack Arabella?” Hermione asked. “Why would that put any pressure on Severus to give back the feather-”

“Because Slughorn told him she was with Snape! Slughorn must have confused you two, the idiot, and Igor took his word for it! Igor did it to get back at Snape!”

Hermione remembered laughing with Arabella at the Valentine’s Dance about Slughorn’s mistaking them for each other. That’s what happened. Amoralato was meant to separate Severus from his lover, but it went wrong because Arabella wasn’t his lover. I am.

“Severus figured out that Karkaroff was behind it and the reason.” Hermione said, her pride for him seeping through. No wonder he had been so furious at figuring out what happened to Arabella. “He sent Lucius Malfoy to St. Mungo’s to tell them the cure.”

“And he and Malfoy both backed Igor even further into a corner with more threats against him- against us! That’s the only reason I was caught today! I had to go reassure him and convince him to give his speech at graduation when you had to ruin everything!” Callie was seething, uncaring that she was telling Hermione all of this. Now that their whole plan had gone to ruins it was bound to come out at any rate.

“But it’s more than that- more than just today even.” Hermione squeezed her pointed wand tightly, holding herself back from using it. “Not only have you snuck these Death Eaters into the castle, but you’ve betrayed your friends. Or is it just a coincidence that Lily’s parents were in hiding and still ended up dead?”

Calliope’s anger was winding down, having gotten a lot off her chest. This new accusation threw her for a loop, and she dropped her scowl. “Wh- what?”

“You heard me. You knew where they were. So did your uncle.”

“It- it was a car crash. Lily’s parents died in a car crash.”

“But you can’t be sure, can you? You pass the information along, but you can’t be sure what will happen once you do.” Hermione said icily, watching Callie’s face pale. “You think you’re in charge- I know you’re supposed to be the handler- but you don’t really have any control. It’s all up to Voldemort and who he decides is in the way of his agenda. You’re just a pawn, even if you’re the best pawn.”

A wave of emotion overflowed throughout Hermione’s body, beginning in her chest and tightening her throat.

This was Severus. A pawn who believed he had any control. Someone who passed along information with no ability to stop the one who heard it from committing an atrocity. Hermione herself was a hypocrite to pass judgment on Callie and not condemn Severus.

She couldn’t make excuses for him any longer.

Calliope looked down, shame finally coloring her features. She looked on the verge of tears. Hermione almost felt pity for her.

Almost.

“What about now? Why aren’t you with the rest of the Death Eaters?” Hermione said coldly.

“Because I had to go to the ministry and give a report about my dalliance,” Callie said bitterly. “Plus, I couldn’t come the normal way back to Hogwarts as I’m banned, so I had to come through this way like everybody else.”

“Well, I can’t send you back that way now, so start walking. Go on.” Hermione gestured her wand forward to indicate Callie should move. The young women marched through the rows of artifacts and out the large iron door, Hermione’s wand digging into Calliope’s back.

“Aurors!” A masked figure roared, pointing toward the distance. Backup had come from the ministry, and the brigade of aurors was running from the gates of Hogwarts towards the battle by the lake.

“Death Eaters retreat!” Lucius yelled. He pulled up his left sleeve and pressed the tip of his wand to his mark, hissing. Removing his wand with a shudder, he added. “And grab a recruit!”

Severus felt Lucius grab him by the back of his robe and they surged upward, smoke engulfing them. Instead of the normal pop of apparition, they fizzled away like the sound of crackling flame, reappearing in Lucius’ grandroom.

In the armchair by the fireplace, face highlighted by streaks of sunlight coming through the tall windows, was not Abraxas Malfoy, but Lord Voldemort.  

“A successful day, Lucius?”

The dark-haired man with bright eyes and a chiseled jawline looked inquisitively at Malfoy, as if the information was mildly important. His handsome features, attractive by all conventional standards, only amplified his eeriness. He was too good-looking, in an awe-inducing, uncomfortable way. The way one imagines angels to look in their inhuman perfection.

Or demons.

“In some ways, My Lord,” Lucius bowed his head. “There were a few mishaps.” They originally addressed him as milord, a way of bringing back an aristocratic manner and tradition to wizarding society. Somehow it morphed into My Lord, and he was the only one addressed as such. He seemed worthy of it anyway, as perfect and brilliant as he seemed to them. He was the new savior, after all, ushering in the better way of life through revolution. Why should he not be their Lord? Their Master?

“Oh? Do tell.” Again, Voldemort’s manner appeared casual, but those bright and brilliant eyes flashed with something frightening.

“Karkaroff… was not present. Things unraveled from there.”

“Let me see. Legilimens.”  The spell came in a barely audible hiss. Within an instant, Lucius had bared his mind, showing what had happened from his perspective, watching Wilkes rush the stage from his spot hiding behind the tree line. Calliope and Karkaroff’s mistakes were highlighted and Severus’ success in smuggling everyone onto the grounds was made clear.

Severus heard gasps and waves of smoke from behind him as more from the battlefield apparated in. The Dark Lord was able to summon those with marks who grabbed one or two of those without in order to get them off the school grounds safely. The Death Eaters along with recruits began to fill the grandroom, an army amassing after a battle to debrief.

Death Eaters were called Death Beaters first, as they would conquer death with their power. Defeating mortality in a way muggles could not. Somehow it became Eaters, Severus had been told, but it meant about the same thing. Apart from the consumption, that is. Apart from inner corruption. If they ate death, they would beat it, but take it upon themselves as well.

“Thank you, Lucius,” the Dark Lord said quietly as he exited his mind. Lucius nodded jerkily, still recovering from the onslaught. “Severus, you have done well. The handler’s failure need not be your own. You have been good and faithful to the cause.” The dark-haired beautiful man pointed his wand confidently at Severus.

“Show me your forearm.”

Severus heard whoops and cheers around him as the Dark Lord used a curse of his own devising to bind Severus to him, to them. His new dark mark seared on his flesh, and he grit his teeth as he bowed deeply before joining the others, receiving a mask for his efforts.  

Hermione had so far managed to keep Callie subdued as they made their way through the castle. She led her in the direction of Karkaroff’s office to check on Lily and James.

“You!” Elpida Dalton was standing in front of the door to the Defense classroom. She pointed her wand at Callie, having seen her immediately before spotting Hermione walking behind her.

“I’ve got it, Ellie.” Hermione said calmly as Callie continued to glower, not meeting Ellie’s eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you running towards the castle, and I came too. Couldn’t find you but ran into Sirius who told me to guard the office and make sure no one came back this way.”

 “Why didn’t he stay?”

“I don’t know. Lupin, James, and Lily were running with him back to the lake. Sounded urgent.”

Hermione’s heartrate involuntarily sped up, realizing this left Lily, James, and even Severus in potential danger. “Ellie do you-”

“Go on,” the tall blonde nodded, cocking her head to the side with a devious smile. “I’d love to interrogate her.”

“Fine, but I’ll keep her wand, so it’s far away from here,” Hermione responded, shoving Calliope forward and pocketing her wand. Once Ellie’s wand was pointed at Callie’s face, Hermione broke out in a run back out of the castle.

When she reached the lake, she was relieved at first to see that the Death Eaters had gone and a hoard of Aurors were searching the woods and lining people up for a headcount. The relief dissipated quickly when she caught a few faces.

No.

Her worst fears were only confirmed when she heard screaming and sobbing coming from the lakeshore and a small crowd of people huddled together.

Gryffindors.

She raced forward, scarcely able to breathe.

The limp body of Marina McKinnon lay on the ground, eyes open and facing upward. One hand clutched her wand, the other was being held by Peter Pettigrew as he knelt sobbing beside her.

Chapter Text

He heard muffled speaking as his vision blotted in around him, spots of color dancing and fading around his eyes. He tried to answer back, but his mouth tasted like dried blood and his head felt far too heavy with pain to lift.

Severus felt his body being moved and he had to shut his eyes to avoid being sick with dizziness. He couldn’t even think well enough to remember where he must be or who he must be with. Hopefully no foe, for he was powerless and cared little.

Splashing. Wet.

He let out an involuntary groan, unable to voice with words that yes, that did relieve the pain somewhat. After a time, an unquantifiable bit of time that he couldn’t judge, be it hours or minutes, the pounding in his head subsided enough for him to open his eyes.

He was in the bathtub at his own home in Spinner’s End, being tended to by a flushed and muttering brunette.

Severus’ chest warmed and a relief surged through him, allowing him to actually relax in the bath water. Didn’t matter how delirious he was, he’d know this woman anywhere.

“I hate you,” she muttered.

He tried to hold back a chuckle and it came out as a rasp. “Unlikely.”

“What, I can’t even.. ugh! You’re too injured to care for yourself. Hmmph!” She had been trying very much to wash him gently, but she allowed herself to slap him lightly with the washcloth at this point.

“Hush,” he whispered. “Nurse me back to health and then you can have your way with me.”

Hermione gasped in consternation, and he really had to hold back a grin at this point because his face hurt. She snarled at him, not taking his teasing well as she usually did.

Once he’d been cleaned properly, she had even bandaged up his weeping and scarred forearm, Hermione helped him into bed. He wasn’t clothed, which he was pleased with, but she didn’t join him.

He frowned, and turned his head slightly to look at her, despite the pain.

“You really, don’t know, do you?” Hermione looked… not even angry. Troubled. Wounded?

Betrayed.

Severus tried to push himself up, concerned, but hissed, his aching body not allowing for it.

“Don’t.” Hermione said, flatly. “You’re in no condition. I need you healed enough to answer my questions.” She swallowed and looked away, her eyes tearing up. “I’ll return in two days. That should be enough time for you to rest and heal. Potions are on the nightstand if you need them.”

Without another word, she walked out of the room and shut the door. He heard her steps going down the stairs and a light pop of apparition indicating her departure.

Severus lay staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

What else had happened?

Severus did rest, and it did take quite a while to recover. Once he finally did fall asleep, he slept most of the next day and only briefly puttered around before bedtime came again.

The second day was much better. He was relieved, as he’d be leaving for France the next day and he couldn’t afford to be weak at the beginning of a grueling mastery. By the evening, he was relieved to see that he was almost fully restored to both physical and magical health, though his left arm was still lightly throbbing, and he would need to work towards casting with that hand.

He made dinner for two, unsure if Hermione would join him. When time passed and it was certain that she would not come in time for a meal, he ended up eating both portions, realizing he was starved of calories and needed sustenance.

When it was finally late enough for him to start getting worried, there was a knock on the front door, and he let her in quickly. Severus swept her into his arms, closed the door, and kissed her before she could protest, knowing he wouldn’t see her again for a while.

To his surprise, Hermione kissed him back breathlessly. She kissed him as he lifted her and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. He deposited her gently on the bed, quickly climbing over her and kissing her languidly as they pressed their bodies together.

Severus kissed his way down her neck as she gasped. His hands moved to her waist to unbutton her jeans when he felt her stiffen slightly and inhale.

He glanced up and saw fear in her eyes. Guilt.

His body stiffened and chilled with the same fear and mistrust she must be feeling.  He couldn’t move off of her fast enough.

He pushed away from her and sat on the bed, staring wide-eyed and waiting for her to move or speak.

“What?” She whispered.

“What do you mean, what? Who do you think I am?” Severus swallowed, desperately wanting to hold her but terrified of touching her now. “I’m not a rapist,” he said with disgust.

“I never said you were!” Hermione jumped up, her face flushed. “I want you! I need you, Severus!”

This did calm his nerves a little bit, but she said this far too desperately for comfort. “Physically, perhaps.”

His words hung heavily in the room.

Yes, she wasn’t giving herself to him. Not completely. She didn’t trust him.

“That isn’t rape, Severus,” she said finally, looking away.

“It is not what I want.” He said quietly, daring to reach out and grab her hand. “Not from you, not ever.”

Hermione squeezed his hand, still looking away. Tears fell silently down her face as she breathed in and out raggedly, trying to calm herself.

Slowly, Severus inched his way closer to her, as if she were a frightened animal that had to be handled tenderly lest it bite or run. He drew her onto his lap and into his arms and she clutched him, hiding her face in his shirt as he rubbed her back.

“I want to hate you, but I can’t,” she sniffled. “I’m so angry with you, but- but I’ll miss you…”

Severus kissed her wild hair and held her more tightly. Hermione gave a deep sigh and snuggled into him in relief, but after a few moments pushed back.

“Why?” She asked him, her voice cracking. “What did she ever do? Why did you kill her?”

“What?” He said sharply. “Who?”

“Marina!” Hermione cried. “I haven’t been able to figure it out at all, and I figured out everything else, but it makes no sense! She had nothing to do with- with anything!”

“She…” Severus trailed off. He had remembered some of the interrogations, but the aftereffects of the Dark Mark had made it difficult to fully concentrate. “I… I don’t know. I had no idea.” He wracked his brain further, but the Dark Lord had not said anything about McKinnon when he was torturing the ones who had failed. Nor praising the ones he was pleased with.

“I don’t believe it was… planned. She may have been a casualty,” he said somberly. He never liked the McKinnon girl, but she hadn’t deserved death.

“A casualty?! She’s dead. You killed her. Not directly, but you let them into the castle. You were a part of it, Severus!” Hermione still desperately clutched the front of his shirt as her voice raised, almost begging for him to explain this because it didn’t make sense.

“We do not have the facts… friendly fire is a possibility-”

“SEVERUS!” Hermione shoved him and pushed herself off his lap. “You will tell me everything. Now. From the beginning!”

And he did.

The communication quills to give word to the handler on their assignments, figuring out Calliope was the handler based on her reaction to Popov, trying to mitigate anything disastrous from getting back to her, finding out she was consorting with Karkaroff and gaining the Firebird feather from him, working on a plan to infiltrate the castle with Rosier, figuring out Karkaroff had been trying to curse Hermione and demanding further leeway with Cohen, and finally pairing twin cabinets as a doorway system to allow for the death eaters to enter the castle. Gaining his Dark Mark, though she had already seen it.

Everything.

Hermione sat quietly, taking it all in with a furrowed brow. She appeared to be trying to fit the pieces together and see if she had been missing anything.

“What about…” She started cautiously, but after a brief moment of hesitation, she barreled forward. “Callie said you asked her to support our union to the Dark Lord.”

Severus inhaled in surprise. After a long silence, he answered. “I did.”

“Why?”

He decided to bare everything to her. “The Dark Lord will need to approve of our marriage.”

Hermione looked confused. “But I do not intend to marry you.”

“What?” He choked out. His worst fears were being realized. “You cannot be serious.”

Hermione frowned and looked slightly perturbed. “That isn’t much of a proposal if you thought my answer was guaranteed. I did tell you… I did tell you I was concerned about the sides we are on-”

“Hermione!” Severus jumped off the bed in heated emotion, pacing the room to calm himself down as he spoke to her. “We are bound together, surely you understand the meaning of that! I understand if you want more time before things are settled, but there is no question of it happening!” He tried to calm his manner and barked, “Eventually!”

“How antiquated!” She jumped off the bed to meet his long strides. “And this is because we’ve slept together and I’m no longer pure? The decision is already made?”

“Hermione.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and made her face him, his dark eyes shining with need and fear. “Yes, your virginity… should be for your husband… but apart from that, we are magically bound.”

“What do you mean? How?”

“The Sanguine Virginis! How could you not understand! You offered it to me freely, knowing we would be intertwined magically in that potion. Our magic is bound together now! We will always be affected by one another. It is such a rare and powerful combination for a reason, Hermione!”

They had switched roles now and Severus was desperate to understand what had happened and why. Certainly, she had been unaware of the exact mechanics of the thing, but the meaning behind it, surely was obvious!

“I- I don’t understand.”

“Our magic is bound! If we are not-” He swallowed thickly, not able to accept it. “If we are not married, that is… if we are married to others or one of us is… the magic can be diluted. Our magic is bound, it is not supposed to be mingled with a third person or a fourth. The bond strengthens, but a broken bond would weaken both of us. Weaken our magic.”

“Weaken how? What do you mean?!”

“I have no idea! It’s rare enough to fulfill it as it is, let alone breaking it!”

“Why would anyone ever agree to that?” Hermione gasped. “It’s completely illogical!”

“Why would anyone ever complete Sanguine Virginis with another?” Severus hissed, becoming angry. “To be bound to them!”

“We cannot be bound!” Hermione still looked up at him but began to cry. “We cannot!”

“Not…ever?” Severus said hoarsely. He had to keep himself from swinging his dark locks in front of his face to hide as he did when he was a child.

“Eventually…” Hermione closed her eyes, biting her lip. “Eventually would be…” She swallowed, then opened her eyes to meet his dark ones again. “Eventually may be too long.”

“No. No, I promise it would not be.” His hands moved too quickly for her to stop him from pulling her into his arms. He stroked her face with a long hand, gazing at her pleadingly. “Not too long for me. Give me time.”

“You cannot promise that, Severus! You have no idea how- how long this war may last! It could be over tomorrow or- or it could last years!” She began grasping at straws.  “Is there no way to undo the binding? I could come to you when the war ends, but we… we could be…”

“We could be what?” He growled.

She felt the air shift in his tone. He was doing his best to hold himself still.

“I- I just mean that we- we would not be encumbered by being bound-”

His face darkened. “Potter.”

“What?”

Severus looked down on her with hatred in his face, causing her to retreat from him a few steps.

“You wish to try your hand at Potter,” he continued in a low voice. “After all, he and Lily are not yet bound. There may be some hope for you.”

“Wh- what? No!” Hermione shook her bushy head fervently. “No, I have no interest in James.” He snarled at this. Another half-truth. He could see she was hiding something to do with him.

“I would never force you to be bound to me,” he continued darkly. “By all means, let us smash the ingredient. It would invalidate my mastery, but that is a small price to pay to release an unwilling woman.”

“It would- no! No, no I don’t want that!”

“You do understand the pureblood traditions, do you not? Even if the Sanguine Virginis is no more, the reason consorts exist at all is to barter virginity to find a spouse. I am unlikely to find any other spouse unless she is similarly unwanted.” Severus sneered. “But again, small price to pay. I told you, I am no rapist to hold you against your will.”

“Severus, it’s not that!”

“Then WHAT?!” He yelled. “I would bear the years for you, if it is necessary! I will wait for a marriage as long as I have you! The promise of you!”

“We are on different sides now! You were involved in this attack! I can’t…” Hermione hesitated, looking at him with pleading eyes. They were too pleading, and she hesitated for long enough to give him an opening. He strode over and grabbed her again.

“You are mine. Mine.” He kissed her lips fiercely, quickly pulling back and forcing her to meet his eyes. He felt the urgent need to claim her, erase Potter from the conversation entirely.

“You cannot be associated with me- fine. We have done this before. Go on dates with others, tell them you have turned your back on me. We must be separated for a time regardless.” Severus looked her over possessively. “But none of them will know you are mine.”

He kissed her again, his kisses aggressive and languid as he made his points to convince her.

“Your body- mine.” He threaded his long hands through her hair as she responded with quick little gasping breaths between kisses. He kissed his way to her ear, having learned she responded well to his voice. “Whether in my bed or in your own, stroking yourself and calling my name until I can come to you… Mine.”

Hermione moaned and her knees began to buckle. He lifted her quickly, moving her into their original position on the bed, him atop her.

“Your mind- mine.” He sucked and kissed at the nape of her neck, sure to stay close to her ear. His hands ghosted lightly over her body, careful not to remove any clothing. No, he wanted her to be sure. “We are a secret, but we are of one mind.”

Hermione exhaled beneath him, appearing to disagree with this statement but fighting her desire for him.

“Your heart.” He kissed his way back to her lips, refusing to cease kissing. He had more trouble with this part, demanding her heart. His insecurities would not allow for it in case he were rejected outright.

He slowed the kisses and pulled away gently now, hoping she would reach out to him. “Mine. As I am yours.” Severus said quietly.  “All of me. Everything. Always.”

Hermione swallowed. “Severus-”

“Your name. Is that mine as well?” He didn’t say it angrily, but urgently, as if he had a right to know. She had demanded answers to her questions and he was sure he was right about this.

“My name?”

“Hermione.”

“Um… yes?”

“Who else knows you are Hermione and not Anna?” It was an intimacy he could not bear Potter to be aware of. He couldn’t truly know her.

She frowned. She tried to sit up, but he was still on top of her. “We are bound, Hermione. Trust me, I beg of you.”

“Anna is my first name and Hermione is my middle name, that’s all.”

“Stop.” He was more forceful with his tone again, though he did not appear angry. “Please. I withheld a great deal from you, to be sure. Yet, I did not lie to you. We both know there is a difference.” He tried to still his heartrate and calm himself so she would be at ease enough to answer.

She shifted nervously. He rolled off her slightly so she could move, though he continued to hold her.

“What do you mean?”

Severus grabbed an errant curl and twisted it around his finger as he laid back. “Hermione is your name, not Anna. Anna is a false name. Perri may be a family name, but it is not your surname.” Severus met her eyes which were wide with fear. “Does anyone else know you are Hermione?”

She stared at him, silent for a bit.

Finally, she mumbled, “Elpida. I didn’t tell her, but the ministry found out and we’re working together. That’s how she knows.” She looked at him questioningly, wondering what he knew.

Severus moved closer, looking concerned. “The ministry found out? Are you safe?”

“I- I don’t know. I believe… I believe only she and… my direct superior know my name.” She gazed at him with a mix of relief and astonishment.

“You are mine, Firebird.” Severus reached out and stroked her face. “You cannot hide everything from me.”

“How?”

“You gave me the occlumency books. The key to occlumency is honesty. The author does not say so directly, but it becomes clear when he speaks on the levels of intimacy behind shields. What comes with intimacy? Trust. Honesty.”

“Have you been looking into my mind?”

“No, but you have opened it to me a few times. Besides this, I can tell when you are lying.” He stayed close to her in case she made a run for it, and he had to keep her there. She was like a skittish rabbit, sometimes. “I thought you may have known about my family- the wizarding side. They were known for their skill in mind magic. It has come easily to me.”

“What else… what else do you know?”

Severus readied himself to grab her. She may run.

“My Nonna spoke Italian to me as a boy. I have studied it on my own.” He paused for effect, meeting her eyes. “Your pronunciation is quite good, but you are not fluent.”

Her breath hitched, but she did not flee as he’d anticipated. She did still appear frightened.

“I believe you told the truth about being raised in England,” Severus continued slowly. “But you cannot have lived in Genoa for six years without becoming fluent. That and your adoption of a pseudonym…”

“Yes?” She stared fixedly at him, wide-eyed and hanging on his every word.

“You have gone to school somewhere, that is certain. You are too brilliant to have been home educated by a single tutor.” Severus mused. “I don’t think you are from Durmstrang like the others, or they would have some familiarity with you. Beauxbatons? Ilvermorny? But why lie about attending either school?”

Hermione didn’t answer him.

“You can trust me,” he said. “One mind.”

He could see her gritting her teeth and refusing to believe him. How could she trust him after her friend had died?

“Hermione,” Severus pulled her closer into his embrace. “I am truly sorry. I cannot protect all of your friends. I have told you this before. I had no hand in Marina’s death.”

“If there was a plan to harm her, you would have told me?”

He paused. He was determined not to lie to her. If he couldn’t tell her something, fine. But no lies.

“If I could have.” She scoffed, unsatisfied with that answer. “If your safety was ensured,” he clarified.

“That doesn’t matter,” Hermione said bitterly. “I worked against you without even knowing it. Callie and Karkaroff didn’t show up to the ceremony because of me- you said that spoiled your plans. Ellie and I found them… together. Along with Professor McGonagall. That’s why we were all late and they didn’t show up. They were banned from the grounds.”

“Ah, that would explain the Dark Lord’s displeasure with them.” Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They are bottom of the cauldron at the moment.”

She appeared curious about the fates of the two but didn’t press him for more. She still sat awkwardly, her body twitching with need to be held by him, but her mind clearly conflicted.

“You can trust me, Hermione. I’ve faced the Dark Lord a few times now. I know enough occlumency to keep things hidden.”

“Like what?” She refused to give him anything, only trying to piece together what he had already figured out and it was beginning to frustrate him.

“You’ve faked your background because he’s after your family, just like the other transfer students. You’re the only one of them who’s smart enough to have given a false name to make it harder to trace you. The question is, who are you? Does he want financial support from your family like the Potters? Are you of a prominent pureblooded line that would help sway others to the cause?” Severus said this all in a quiet voice, hopeful that she would hear the truth and confess to him finally.

“Severus…” She sighed deeply and hung her shoulders.

She did not appear as frightened as before, but her next words were all the more frightening to him.

“Severus, I must go. I already told you that… that this will not work. Not now. If our magic must be bound through the Sanguine Virginis…” Her face looked bitter and sad. “Then I will not revisit breaking that bond til after your mastery ends.”

She rose from the bed slowly, turning away from him.

“Hermione!” Severus jumped up after her. “Please!”

“I can’t trust you, Severus,” Hermione whispered, facing him again. “We work against each other, even accidentally. You cause harm to those I care about, even unknowingly. I cannot… I cannot be yours.”

“Hermione, no.” He held her again and she did not struggle, but her eyes were blank and cold. She did not like this decision either, it appeared. She was resigning herself to it because she believed it necessary.

That was good. Better than the alternative. He could still convince her, even if it took a while. Even if she left now unconvinced, he could bide his time.

“Hermione,” he said, trying not to sound desperate and needy. “We are bound.”

She began to struggle in his arms. “Severus, I must leave.”

“Hermione, my Hermione,” he murmured stroking her lightly, and her tears started flowing again.

“Please let me go!”

“You are mine! We are bound!”

“We cannot be!”

“Hermione, I love you!” He all but shouted.

“You can’t!” She cried, “And I can’t love you! Not now! We work against each other, we put each other in danger-”

“I will never allow you to come to harm. Never!” Severus growled possessively. “I protect what is mine and you are mine, Hermione! We are each other’s!”

“I cannot protect you, Severus! I cannot defend your decisions any longer!”

He recoiled, despite himself.

Rejection. No, not from her.

“You are a Death Eater, Severus!” Her eyes darted to his left forearm and back. “You cause death!” Hermione shook her wild hair as she spoke, pushing back at his insistence. “I can’t defend you anymore!”

“Don’t do this,” he whispered. “Don’t be like her.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in realization, and she paused herself from struggling with him. “Like Lily,” she said.

Severus jerked a nod, too foregone to deny it.

This was something they had not discussed.

He feared she would reject him eventually, just as Lily had. For James Potter, just as Lily had. He had allowed himself to become comfortable with her, more so than he had ever been with Lily to the point it terrified him.

Hermione consumed him.

She couldn’t reject him in the same way Lily had. It would rip him apart.  

“But I am like Lily, Severus.” Hermione whispered. “I’m a mudblood.”

Severus paled. “No. No, it can’t be.”

“That’s why I’m running, Severus.” Hermione slipped out of his arms and backed away as he took in the new information, stunned. “I’m not rich, I’m not a pureblood, I’m a mudblood. My parents are muggles.”

“Don’t say that,” he hissed. “Don’t say that word.”

“It’s the truth,” she countered. “You know it. You can tell when I’m lying to you.”

“I- I will…” His eyes darted around the room as his mind raced desperately. “I can still-”

“You can’t protect me, Severus. I’m a liability. The Dark Lord would never approve of your union to a mud- a muggleborn.”

Hermione backed up towards the door. “We’re working against each other now. I’m going to protect others like Lily, like me.”

“We- we can figure something out.” Severus ran a hand through his dark hair, scratching his scalp deeply as he did to calm the mounting pressure in his head. “Together.”

She looked at him fleetingly. Longingly. “I do love you Severus, but I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“No!” She had finally admitted it. She loved him too. “Stay!” Severus darted forward, grabbing her hands and sinking to his knees before her. “Wait to marry me, if you must. We will keep it all a secret. I swear to you, Hermione! I will ensure no one knows of us!”

Her face twisted in agony, clearly wrestling with her own self-control. She wanted this too. She wanted him.

“Not a soul will hear your name and mine together again until you wish it.”

“Severus.” He could feel her willpower beginning to fold. “Too many people know already. You claimed me publicly, remember?”

“And I will disavow you publicly, as you will me!” He squeezed her hands tightly, bringing one to his cheek, still kneeling before her. “Better my secret than nothing! I would have been your consort alone, taking no pleasure for myself. I will do it now! Hermione, I beg of you.”

Hermione crouched and knelt along with him, stroking his face with her hands. She kissed his lips gently.

“That’s no way to live, Severus.” She said softly. “I can’t promise you the future when it could be too long to bear. You deserve to move on and be happy.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “There are other women you could love. With time, it can heal.”

“Hermione. Hermione, please.” She did not listen and kissed his cheek chastely, appearing to have finally made her decision.

She rose slowly and he knew he had lost.

She had no intention of receiving him again, despite loving him, even if he made a convincing argument.

She would leave and be gone.

He would truly have no one.

Severus felt his throat tighten, his heart rapidly speed up, and a rush of adrenaline and magical power surge through his body.

His eyes dilated, his breathing ragged, desperate to keep control and stop this from happening.

He was dying. This was dying.

He would not roll over and die.

“HERMIONE!” He roared. She jumped and turned back, startled by his yell, her hand still on the doorknob to exit.

In only half a second, he leapt up and strode to her. “LEGILIMENS!”

He entered her mind, quickly pressing past the immediate memories and thoughts she had at the outermost regions of familiarity. He felt her gasp as he pressed further and she started to struggle against him mentally, trying to lead him down alternative pathways.

He knew this game, however. He had been on the receiving end of the Dark Lord’s mind. He kept pressing.

Severus breathed, trying to calm himself, but his heart was still hammering, and he still felt he was fighting for his life.

As he slowed, he caught a glimpse of a memory she quickly pushed away of her creating an otter patronus. Although this helped- it had not always been a stag, then- his own pleasure at discovering something new kept him from withdrawing.

His own fear was morphing into a desire to hunt. To know. To discover.

He was obsessed now and unable to tear away. He had this same issue with reading spell books, dark charms and curses, potions of dubious intent.

He had to know her just as thoroughly as he knew these dark arts.

He pushed on, perhaps not as cruelly as the Dark Lord would, but with great intent, until he detected fear.

He followed that thread of fear and he saw a younger version of her, laughing and talking with a tall, red-haired boy and James Potter-

He hissed and fell to the floor on his side, head hitting the dusty boards and black spots dancing in front of his eyes. There was a throbbing pain in his groin.

He heard a muffled sob and a noisy pop of apparition before he realized she had kicked him in the balls to get away.

He deserved it.

Why would she ever come back now.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure about this, Annie?"

Hermione was sitting in Cyd’s office with Elpida. It felt like yet another interrogation. She’d done one with Dumbledore and McGonagall, one with Dumbledore alone, one with Lily and a glaring group of Gryffindors…

That was all post-battle.

The funeral had been earlier that morning, a somber affair at a Catholic church just outside of London. Fr. Quentin was the muggle son of two squibs and had learned enough about magic from his extended family, so there were a few theomagical elements added to the end of the ceremony.

It was brief, but an interesting addition.

“That this wand,” snap of the wood, “may belong only to this witch.” The wand was then disintegrated by Marina’s father.

“That the pieces be returned to the wood from which they came.” A spell murmured by the same man as her mother sobbed. “Just as we all return to our mortal state. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Fr. Quentin blessed the people and prayed for Marina’s soul before dismissing the crowd. Aurors stood at the doors, surveying the scene, but nothing unexpected happened.

After passing the family, and a hug to a pale, stone-faced Marlene, Ellie and Hermione left quietly, making their way to the ministry in silence.

Elpida’s first words were not spoken until they had reached Cyd’s office.

“You will have to fill me in, ladies.” Sterling said. “I’m sure you have discussed things already, especially after the events of the weekend.” He sighed. “I’m sorry to hear about your classmate.”

“Thank you for letting us go this morning-”

“Oh, of course, of course.” He waved it off, waiting for the girls to explain their plan.

“Sir-”

“Cyd, please. Anna.”

“Cyd.” Hermione nodded. “It is my intention to begin… traveling. I can do smaller timeframes and have reports ready to give. Ellie will support me if I need any… explanation as to where I’ve been.”

“That’s right,” the blonde chimed in, looking at Cyd. “I’ve made sure the flat is ready today. Anna has given me permission to have a room furnished for her and waiting. If our flatmate or anyone else asks, she’s traveling as part of her Department of Transportation work, testing out various Floo systems and their connections.”

“That sounds appropriate.” Cyd made a few notes. “That may be an unneeded precaution, as you mentioned you are rooming with your healing contact.” They gave him a puzzled look. “Is that person a problem?” He said, concerned.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, if you do have any healing emergencies, she may find out about the traveling. On a need-to-know basis, of course, but it may be necessary if you are injured.”

“I haven’t…” Hermione shrugged, realizing she’d be disclosing something further, but finding herself unbothered by it. “I haven’t had any problems yet.”

Cyd looked at her, a bit eagerly. “Oh?”

Hermione sighed and refrained from rolling her eyes. “Because I’ve made multiple trips.” He pushed his pince-nez up his nose excitedly as he pulled another parchment close to write. “No details yet, I’m not ready.”

“Oh no, no, Anna,” he chuckled, scribbling furiously. “Information is information, data is data. As I said before, we’ll take what you can give us. That’s excellent! I’m glad you haven’t had any health side effects yet.”

“The reason I’m hesitant,” Ellie chimed in, “is because of how far she wants to travel.”

Hermione huffed. “That’s hardly any time at all.”

“Three months!” Ellie glowered at her. “Perhaps in the future, it’s nothing at all to jump forward in time, but the time turners we have here only go a few hours at most!”

“Perhaps,” Cyd tugged at his greying beard. “Perhaps we could examine the time turner you-”

“No.” Hermione stared both of them down. “Keep in mind, I’ve done this so far without help. My telling you my plans is merely a courtesy.”

“I understand if you want to get away,” Ellie said quietly. “But don’t go so far.”

“How about this,” Cyd said in a helpful tone, standing from his desk and taking a leisurely stroll around the room. “You jump forward a shorter time period- a day, let’s say, or a week. We’ll examine you and make sure you’re doing well. Then, we can reevaluate your plan.”

“Fine.” Hermione agreed too readily, she realized, but she had trouble caring about it. “I’ll jump forward a week, you can take notes on my condition and then I’ll see you in three months.”

“Right, well, there is still the matter of, ahem…” Cyd cleared his throat and looked at her a bit nervously. “Rookwood. Your report?”

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. She leaned back in her chair and thought for a little bit.

“He’s a death eater,” she said finally, opting for the truth. “He won’t be found out for a few years, however, so not sure if it would even go anywhere if you raised the alarm or if it’s prudent to do so.”

“I see.” Cyd leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling. “It would be an interesting way to test the inalterability of time if we tried to change that-”

“I’d rather not,” Hermione said flatly. “I have enough to deal with. I’d rather just keep him away from me. It’s imperative he doesn’t find out about who I am.”

Cyd grunted. “You realize then that I can’t act on the information. Augustus Rookwood is highly regarded in this Department and the rest of the Ministry. I have to continue to treat him as the excellent employee and researcher he has proven to be.”

“Just don’t put him on this case.”

“Well, he’s already been working in the Brain Chamber for the last few years and he requested a change. If he’s not to be on this case, then…” Cyd pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a folder, opening it, and thumbing through a few pages inside. “Then it appears the Hall of Prophecy and Prediction would be the best fit.”

Hermione let out a bitter laugh, causing the other two to stare. Ellie frowned, looking even more concerned for her friend.

“Add something down about the irony of time. That has to be one of its properties. I guarantee it.”

Through some miracle, Severus managed to drag himself out of bed with his packed bag, and to the Portkey office on time.

First, he took the authorized portkey to Paris and passed through the French Ministry’s point de controle without issue. Next, after receiving a complimentary map and pictures of Wizarding France, he was able to apparate to La Brenne, a region in central France.

Once there, it was a few kilometers to Pays des mille étangs de la Brenne, a nature reserve with a number of muggle and magical communes living surrounding the rivers Creuse and Anglin. It made sense that Master de Grasse had settled here and set up his Potions business and apprenticeship programme. The surrounding ponds and swampy area had plenty of diverse flora and fauna for ingredient gathering, and the rivers could be followed to find magical creatures that might spare hair, scales, skin, or blood.

Severus reached Sainte-Verene, one of the small wizarding communities near De Grasse’s home and shop. It was small, with a few shops, an inn, a church, and some scattered buildings. The population was about 350. He didn’t see a Potions storefront, and after stepping inside the grocer to ask about it in slow but discernable French, he was told that Monsieur de Grasse lived in an even smaller commune, Berry, a short distance away.

Berry was named for the original duchy in the province. When the last duke was killed, the name was lost to the muggles, and the province was split, but the wizarding people hardly noticed. However, the commune of Berry had lost many of its people, who preferred to move to the slightly larger communes or even to the larger cities. Berry itself had only a chapel and some houses, enough distance apart to feel comfortably isolated.

De Grasse’s house had two entrances. The shop entrance had a small sign on the door, reading “Potions for Sale” in both French and English. Severus opened the shop door and walked in as a bell dinged to announce his arrival.

“Tantôt!” He heard after a moment, and a very short man with thinning hair and a thick, white mustache shuffled into the room. He did not appear to be as old as 130, but this must be Master de Grasse. "C'est tantôt!"

De Grasse glared at Severus, staring him up and down, and he realized he was supposed to say something.

“Pardon… Je-”

“Engles is fine.” Monsieur de Grasse seemed to have stared him down long enough and began shuffling around the room, placing jars on the counter. “It ees afternoon already, Su-verse Snape. We must begin.”

Monsieur de Grasse was as exacting as his reputation.

The first day was spent only identifying ingredients, listing their properties, and what the most known uses for them were. De Grasse repeated the French name quickly after Severus listed the English, followed by another French word that Severus quickly realized was a shorthand name for the ingredient in some local dialect. It was clear the mastery would be a constant test of his memory and mental acumen.

After eight hours, they ate a late supper of bread, hearty beef and vegetable stew, and a slightly less sweet version of butterbeer that Severus quite liked. De Grasse explained Severus would cook twice a week and walk to Sainte-Verene to shop for food once a week, as they were now housemates and should share responsibilities.

Severus readily agreed and De Grasse showed him to his room on the second floor. It was sparsely furnished but had a bed, nightstand, desk, and wardrobe, which was enough for Severus’ needs.

“Sir?” Severus turned questioning to his new master. “There are no safety wards on the room, and it is above the Potions workspace.”

“Oui.” Monsieur de Grasse smiled wryly. “Zere will be no mistakes zen. You will be careful.”

Severus nodded and de Grasse closed the door, leaving him for the night.

He was glad of his own exhaustion as he threw himself down on the bed.

The next two weeks were spent with Severus painstakingly brewing everything he had ever learned how to brew. Attention to detail was the key, for he started with simple, first-year potions that any apprentice should be able to do with their eyes closed. The short-statured De Grasse watched him from a stool perched in the corner, eyes narrowed and darting around, sure to catch Severus in a foolish mistake.

On the first day, de Grasse let out an audible hiss when he saw Severus deviate from the standard way of ingredients preparation or add one final counterclockwise stir after the required clockwise ones. He said nothing, however, until after the potion was finished, only jumping off the stool and shuffling over wide-eyed. He examined the potion thoroughly, sometimes tasting if necessary.

Severus realized later that de Grasse had not been alarmed or angry when he reacted, but surprised. He had not expected Severus to know these small changes would be helpful.

He was not a Master for no reason, and he did chime in occasionally. Add the gillywater and the scales simultaneously, not one after the other. Let it boil seven minutes, not five. Wait until the water cools, then add the daguenettes.

At the end of two weeks, he told Severus his technique needed no improvement and they could tackle new material. This would, naturally, involve some experimentation.

The first day of “new material” was invigorating for Severus, and he felt his whole being sing with the rightness of the work. It just felt right. As if this is what he was meant to be doing and it was hardly work at all.

That night, he silenced the room and he sobbed heavily until he fell asleep. His heart had felt so light and full, but it had taken until the end of the day to realize it was still pained.

He could not share this with her, and she was missing from this rightness.

Even the beauty of his calling was tainted by her absence.  

“Satisfied?”

“No, not really.” Ellie looked at Hermione skeptically. “Don’t pretend you’re normal.”

“The traveling went fine. It’s been a week and no ill-effects-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Hermione glowered. “What?”

“Are you going to talk about it? You can’t just run away by going forward in time.”

“I certainly can,” she replied petulantly.

“It’s more than just Marina,” Ellie said knowingly. “It’s Snape, isn’t it?”

“What about him?” Hermione frowned, looking away.

“You have the same problem with him as you do with Rookwood.” Hermione didn’t answer and Ellie nodded, her blonde hair swinging slightly. “Yes, that’s what I thought. What you know about him isn’t true yet. That’s why you haven’t known how to treat Snape. You can trust him, but you can’t trust him… yet.”

“That was my mistake,” Hermione whispered bitterly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Can you trust him in three months?”

“Probably not.”

“What’s in three months then?”

Hermione sighed. “Auror training ends then, right? I’ll… catch up with a few people.”

Severus threw himself into potions study, experimentation, and ingredient gathering under the watchful gaze of Master de Grasse. He worked tirelessly, refusing to take his guaranteed time off every month as he had nowhere better to be and nothing better to do.

He knew if he gave himself enough time to stop and think or feel, it would drum up emotions he didn’t want to deal with. Pain, sometimes, guilt, others. Even anger, a furious and uncontrollable anger that he couldn’t possess the woman he should be able to possess- she had given herself!

Even this inner turmoil did not escape the short Frenchman. One afternoon, he told Severus to bottle the potion he had just made and take it to his room to be used as needed.

Severus frowned, believing this to be a test of some sort. “Impotus Vitale brew?”

“Eet ees temporary only. Eef you vill not avail yourself of Madame Genevieve’s whores in Sainte-Verene, then take eet for the temporary impotence.” De Grasse shrugged as if he had given the world’s most practical bit of advice. “Distractions in ze potions lab are unwise.”

Severus flushed as much as his skin was able and excused himself.

He did not take it the first night out of sheer embarrassment, but a few days later after Hermione had not left his head and his thoughts would not quiet and let him sleep, he did take a small dose.

Yes, impotence was a relief in some way. Yet, it is an odd relief from tension to remove it altogether rather than allow it to culminate and peak.

It left him feeling a sick taste in his mouth and an emptiness in his chest.

However, masturbating to memories of Hermione would give him release but leave his chest aching and heaving in heartsick hopelessness.

There was no winning here. One odd weekend off a month was not enough time to lure her back to him either.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to help our cause, Miss…”

“Perri,” Hermione reminded him flatly.

“Of course, just making sure.” Professor Dumbledore smiled and stroked his white beard. He hadn’t forgotten, of course. He was just making sure she could keep her own alias.

Hermione felt odd standing in front of his desk now, having graduated already and during the summer while classes were not in session. After presenting herself to Sterling for examination and questions and getting scolded by Elpida again for jumping forward, she decided to check in on Dumbledore. He had answered her letter promptly and invited her to his office through the Floo, presumably so no one could see her coming and going in the castle.

“I presume you still intend to fulfill the mission you mentioned? Protecting certain Gryffindors from… unsavory characters?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. Well, I have something for you then.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and placed his fingertips together.  “As you may already know, the newest class of Aurors have finished training and their graduation ceremony is in a few days.”

Hermione nodded, already wrinkling her nose in concentration as she thought rapidly. “And you suspect that there will be another disrupted graduation ceremony.”

“I think it would make sense.” The old man inclined his head thoughtfully. “It would embarrass both the ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, send fear through the populace, act as another show of power for Voldemort, and…” He trailed off and looked at Hermione meaningfully.

“And send a message directly to the new Aurors,” she added.

“Precisely. He and I both understand that the next generation is the ripest for recruitment. This may either injure them permanently, scare them off, or turn them to him out of fear.”

“What can I do to help, sir?” Hermione said sharply, already convinced by this line of thinking that there would definitely be an attack.

“The ceremony itself is unlikely to be in jeopardy, as it will be held inside the Ministry of Magic. However, it is customary for the newest Aurors to go forth from there straight to patrolling Diagon Alley. It is typically only a formality, a ceremonial patrol if you will, as any criminals would know to avoid unsavory activities at that time, but I suspect this is when and where the Death Eaters will strike.”

“So, you need people stationed in Diagon Alley and ready to help.”

“Well…” Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.  “I had not been sure if I wanted to formally induct you into the cause due to your… unique situation, but the opportunity has presented itself here to avoid any formal introductions to the rest of our number. The decision need not be made yet.”

Hermione did not protest in the slightest. Less trouble with the timeline this way. She nodded in assent.

He smiled at her and inclined his head. “I believe the best course of action is to use Polyjuice Potion to make multiples of some of the Auror graduates. This way, if there are any specific targets, the Death Eaters may be thrown off and confused by the duplicates. Additionally, they may be unnerved by the large number of newly graduated Aurors they see before they figure out the ruse. These elements of surprise, as well as having additional numbers, may give us the upper hand.”

Severus spent the hot French summer wading through the boggy marshes collecting ingredients and sweltering over cauldrons. Monsieur de Grasse kept his normal spot in the corner as his student worked, perched on the high stool to observe. Often, Severus glanced over to see the old man’s eyes were closed. The fumes, the heat of the afternoons, and his age all ensured that he would nap nearly every afternoon.

It was another brutally hot afternoon in the late summer- early September still counted as summer in the area- and Severus was chopping and slicing. Cagoui, formion, it appeared this potion was made up of various animal bits.

He was already distracted, the heat and Master de Grasse’s snoring from the corner made it difficult to concentrate on the correct measurements and steps, but also he was feeling a growing sense of unease and his thoughts naturally turned again to Hermione. What was she doing? How had her summer gone? Who was she spending time with? Who was she speaking to and was it a Gryffindor putting nonsense in her ears and hopefully she hadn’t even sniffed Potter or Black-

Severus cried out in pain, dropping the knife. Monsieur de Grasse, who was there in an instant as if he’d seen the whole thing, grasped his left arm as Severus howled. “C’est ch’tit!”

There was blood, and Severus realized he must have sliced a small dip of skin off of his left thumb when cutting, but that wasn’t where the pain was coming from. His left forearm was searing hot.

He was being summoned.

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek while de Grasse bandaged his thumb. De Grasse was glaring at him and muttering a few things under his breath in the local French dialect that Severus didn’t know well. Once the bandage was placed and blood cleaned up, Severus pulled his arm away from the man with a jerk, getting some small relief now that he was not squeezing his left arm in place.

Ever observant, the little man’s eyes darted from Severus’ forearm to his thumb and back before meeting his eyes.

“Ah,” he said.

The Dark Mark had been covered- one reason the heat had been so unbearable for Severus that summer. He had not allowed himself to even roll up his sleeves for fear he would be dismissed from the apprenticeship if his master had noticed it.

“Not to worry.” The old man shook his head. “I did know, yes. Only I zought zey would do it after.” Severus just stared at him, wide-eyed, panting and trying to calm himself. “Vell? Go on zen.” His master made a shooing notion. “You ave not taken time off. Take some time.”

“Sir,” Severus swallowed. “I-”

“Do not mistake me.” De Grasse glared at him. “I am not involved. Je suis neutre.”

Alright. Neutral. Going forward he could know, but no details.  

Severus excused himself with a slight head bow and rushed up the stairs to his room, grabbing a small traveling bag and stuffing a few things in it as his arm burned. He donned his mask and cloak and released the tension in his body, allowing the mark to tug him away to his other master.

Chapter Text

Despite the amount of pain he had been in, the Dark Lord was not displeased with him, nor were the summons extremely urgent.

Perhaps he had known it might take Severus some time to get away or perhaps Severus was still getting used to the pain of the Dark Mark summons. Hopefully, it was one of these reasons and not because the feeling was much much worse when the Dark Lord was actually displeased.

Severus had apparated to the Rosier estate, the same place the twin cabinet had been placed before and clearly a favorite rendezvous of their leader. There was an excitement in the air among the Death Eaters and Severus quickly got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

This was no simple meeting- they were going on a raid.

Severus left his traveling bag with one of the cowering house elves waiting by the entrance and made his way into the great room with the other masked Death Eaters.

“Gentlemen!” The Dark Lord’s clear voice rang out and the dark-haired, handsome man immediately drew all eyes to him. “Though I suppose there may be some ladies among you…” Some chuckles went around the room and Severus spotted a shorter cloaked figure he’d guess was Calliope as well as a high-heeled figure he knew for sure was Bellatrix.

“Certainly,” he continued smoothly, “some of you may wish you were of the fairer sex if there are any mistakes tonight.” An immediate silence swept the room, though no one had been speaking before. As if they were all holding a breath, afraid to make an exhaled sound.

“Ah, good. I have your attention.” His smile reached his eyes but mirth was not what was expressed in them. “Tonight will go as follows…”

As promised, Dumbledore had sent Hermione to Diagon Alley with an already prepared flask of Polyjuice Potion, simply promising her she was not changing genders.

She waited outside the ice cream parlor, sitting at one of the tables as the sun began to set, and slipped off to down the potion as pops of apparition sounded, announcing the start of the Auror’s patrol.

A quick glance at the reflection of red hair in the shop window told her what her new alias was.

She snorted. Of course.

Lily Evans.

She began walking the cobblestone streets slowly and confidently, wand out.

She gave a brief nod to James Potter, emerging from the creature emporium, and Sirius Black, coming from the bookstore. These were other Order member doppelgangers, she suspected, as they didn’t greet her by name but simply nodded and began roaming as well.

They clearly knew this was no ‘ceremonial’ patrol for new graduates.

Lucius clapped Severus on the back as they waited in the Dark Lord’s receiving line, easily picking him out among the masked figures. They each stood before their Master, ready to be acknowledged.

The King sending his soldiers off to battle with a benediction.

“Good to see you,” Lucius’ cold tone held a slight hint of warmth. “How is the French countryside?”

“Hot. Marshy.” Severus said acerbically.

Lucius chuckled. “Don’t turn into a frog, now.”

“Not a chance.” Severus noticed the shortest figure prostrate before the Dark Lord and wait on the floor to be told to rise. “Is that…”

“Yes, Cohen,” Lucius bent forward and whispered in Severus’ ear. “She has an… interesting punishment. Our Lord’s way of making Igor feel welcome, despite his initial misgivings. He gets a sense of power and vengeance to start him off.”

Severus noticed there was indeed a tall figure who came to stand next to Calliope’s crouched form. After their smirking leader waved a hand, the taller Death Eater grabbed her roughly and dragged her to her feet, apparating them both away.

“They are bound?”

“Not as husband and wife.”

Despite his past anger at Calliope Cohen and her mishandling, rather than handling, of those inside Hogwarts, Severus could not help but feel pity for her. She was Karkaroff’s slave. The consort became the concubine. “I did not know that was done anymore.”

“Our Lord preserves the old ways,” Lucius said simply. Severus knew him well enough by now to read between the lines. Even Lucius was uncomfortable with the outcome. “She is not even permitted to take the mark. Not that it will save her if he is displeased.”

They had moved up the line and Severus was next.

“You already have the mark, Severus,” Malfoy warned him before he stepped forward. “The punishment would be far worse for your failure.”

“Marlene!” Hermione ducked as a spell blasted a shopfront sign above her head. She dashed over to Marlene McKinnon, huddled behind an outside display.

The sun had nearly set completely by now and light was hard to come by. The Death Eaters seem to have targeted the lamp posts quickly, blasting them and sending shards of glass and bits of candlesticks flying.

“Lily!” Marlene shouted back. “In here!” The girls dashed inside the shop for cover. Ducking under the front window, they waited with wands drawn, but it seemed the attackers had gotten bored and moved on to new prey as they heard shouting and running down the street.

Hermione sighed and turned to face Marlene, only to find a wand pointed in her face.

“You’re not Lily,” Marlene said.

“No,” Hermione confirmed. “Anna. It’s Polyjuice.” The wand lowered slowly. “I thought you were told you would have allies here undercover.”

“Not quite,” Marlene answered tersely. “We thought it was more of an orientation training exercise and there would be observers. We were warned about the Polyjuice, not the Death Eaters. I had to make sure.” The two got to their feet, checking themselves quickly for spell damage and wounds.

“As far as I know, the Death Eaters don’t know about the Polyjuice either,” Hermione said, after being satisfied she was in good condition. She happened to glance over and notice Marlene looking at her oddly. She sighed. “What gave it away?”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “You aren’t with James.” She looked at her hand. “And no ring.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

She knew they’d get engaged eventually. You miss a few things skipping forward in time.

They exited the shop together, providing cover to the other, stalking slowly and heading toward the bangs and shouts in the distance.

“I didn’t know you were in Auror training,” Hermione muttered to her companion as they cleared each storefront before moving on slowly to the next.

“Marina got accepted,” Marlene answered, scanning the shop window behind Hermione. “It was the least I could do to take her place.”

Hermione felt a stabbing nudge of guilt. This must also be her fault somehow.

If Marina hadn’t died, Marlene wouldn’t be an Auror. Another person putting themselves at risk.

She still felt responsible for Marina. Severus had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts… perhaps their whole plan wouldn’t have gone sideways if she hadn’t interfered with Callie and Karkaroff. Maybe Marina wouldn’t have died then.

The battle was already in full swing by the time Severus arrived. Diagon Alley was in shambles. Smoke from blasts and spells filled the air, making the growing darkness even more difficult to see through. Crates, display carts, and tables were piled together in makeshift bunkers that the new Aurors were hiding behind, darting and dodging out occasionally to send curses their way.

“For the Dark Lord!” A violent hissing yell came from Severus’ left, as the Death Eater raised his wand and his fellows charged with him.

“Confringo!”

“Expulso!”

“Morsmordre!”

Severus didn’t follow but held back a few seconds to see how the clash played out. Wise, as there were more Aurors hiding in the shadows. He fired off a few stunners and low-level curses from his onlooker’s position before moving forward, edging along the outskirts of the fray.

Severus wasn’t keen to get too involved in any of the fighting. He couldn’t afford to get injured and need to recover, as it would take more time from the apprenticeship.

Plus, he couldn’t discount the thought that this would all get back to her.

As hopeless as he felt about their situation now, he had never accepted it as a final outcome, only a temporary one. Even if temporary might last a while.

Severus stalked his way through the darkness, expelling the streetlamps and keeping a watchful eye out for a scene he cared to step into.

He recognized the shouting he heard up ahead and couldn’t help but smirk.

Dashing ahead, he came upon a gloating Sirius Black, laughing in triumph after getting the best of a Death Eater who lay stunned on the ground.

“Come for more, have you!” Sirius laughed, eyes gleaming. Severus quickly put up a shield charm and their duel began.

After a few minutes, Severus was gritting his teeth in frustration.

Black was a braggart, to be sure, but he had raw power that could do some damage when properly honed. He was top of his game currently, freshly out of Auror training and fully prepared for skirmishes.

Severus, on the other hand, had been brewing all summer. Wading through marshes and walking kilometers across the French countryside may have helped keep up some semblance of an exercise regimen, but the only spells he’d cast in months had been gathering or brewing-related.

He was struggling to keep up with Sirius’ casting and blocking, though his stance didn’t show it. He had a few nastier spells up his sleeve which he may have to pull out in the end, but Black knew some of them were his specifically and he didn’t want to be identified behind the mask.

Too late.

“Expelliarmus!” Severus was blasted backward onto his back and his wand left his hand and jolted a few feet away from him. Black raised his wand and-

And the timing was too perfect.

A silver stag came galloping towards Sirius, circling his head. Sirius lowered his wand, waiting on the stag to speak, but it merely nudged its head in another direction and galloped off again.

Clearly, the message was too urgent for him to even bother with a stunner to the downed Death Eater. Sirius sprinted after the Patronus, a worried look on his face.

Whose Patronus was it? Potter’s or… hers?

Cursing, Severus lunged for his wand and righted himself, running after Black.

“It’s alright, Marlene! I sent for help, someone’s coming!” Hermione stood above the woman crumpled below her, sending out hexes from behind their makeshift bunker and occasionally ducking down to check on her.

Marlene’s brown hair was matted with blood. She’d been hit by something hard- flying cobblestones or brick blasted off one of the nearby Diagon Alley buildings. Hermione had removed her cloak and bunched it up on Marlene’s head to stop the blood flow, helping her friend hold the pressure there.

“Marlene!”

The low moaning had stopped. No answer.

Hermione’s breath caught.

“Bombarda! Stupefy! Stupefy!” She fired off quickly so she could buy herself some time and crouch down.

Hermione put her hand to Marlene’s neck.

She exhaled, her heart beating rapidly. It’s okay, she’s still got a pulse…

“Evans!” Hermione’s head darted up, wand raised as she saw Sirius darting towards her, led by the now fading stag. She stood and shot out a few more spells at the opposing Death Eaters to cover his dive behind the barricade.

“It’s Marlene, she needs to go to St. Mungo’s now!” Hermione needed someone else to take her. What if Lily was at St. Mungo’s already? Or the Polyjuice wore off when she arrived?

“Why- ” A blast hit the bunker and they both ducked further down and covered their heads.

“Now, please Sirius!”

Sirius grunted in assent and lifted Marlene into his arms, still crouching down. When he was ready, he nodded at her and said, “Now!”

Hermione leaped up and fired a few stunners off so Sirius could stand and apparate away.

This opened her up to be hit by an “impedimenta” from one side.

Hermione felt her movement slow down enough to miss shielding the “bombarda maxima” that blasted her away from her hiding spot and separated her from her wand.

Hermione woke up to the sound of voices standing over her and arguing. Her head was pounding, and she thought she might have twisted her ankle, or done something more serious to it as it was searing with pain.

“…because of that story he put out- you know the one! The Dark Lord would reward us for bringing her to him!”

“The Dark Lord would not be bothered by such trivialities. He said nothing tonight about taking hostages, Mulciber.”

“It’s called reading between the lines, Snape!”

“He wanted Potter’s head on a stake if we could get it, and if we take her then he’ll come charging after her!” Another voice said.

Hermione forced her head up to look. The three figures above her were masked and shrouded in darkness.

Glancing around, she knew she was well and truly screwed. They had pulled into a dead-end alleyway and her back was propped up against the wall, trapping her there. She had no idea where her wand was, and she was at the mercy of these Death Eaters.

Her only bit of hope lay in the fact she thought she’d heard the name Snape.

“I will answer to the Dark Lord for her.”

That shut the other two up.

After a momentary pause, Mulciber laughed darkly. “What are you going to do with her, Snape? Looking for a mudblood concubine?”

Snape walked toward her, removing his mask and confirming it was him.

It hadn’t actually been a few months for her, but still, she nearly sobbed with relief.

He dragged her roughly to her feet and she gasped in surprise and let out a raspy breath as it put pressure on her ankle.

“Leave us!” Severus snarled over his shoulder before grabbing her roughly and kissing her.

Malicious chuckles resounded in echoes in the alleyway as she struggled against him. He was treating her far rougher than he ever had and pressing her back against the stones.  

“Come on, Avery, let’s move on.”

“Fine by me, I’m not the one answering for this.”

Severus continued to roughly kiss her mouth and press against her for a few moments until the voices faded and they found themselves alone in the darkness.

Almost instantly, his movements calmed, and he pulled her away from the wall. He didn’t cease the kisses, though they slowed and gentled to the point of sensuality, and she felt him lightly caressing her cheek. She couldn’t help but kiss him back now.

Smoothly, he pecked her lips a few more times before withdrawing. Blinking, she looked up at him.

Through the small gleams of light streaking down the alley walls, she could tell his eyes were closed. When he finally opened them, he grimaced and turned his head from her.

“Your wand,” he said gruffly, shoving it into her hand. “Can you walk?” He glanced back to see her response.

She bit her lip and shook her head no.

“You owe me, woman,” he growled. “Especially being in that getup.”

Hermione flushed. Though she supposed it was the visage of Lily Evans who did so. “Severus, I-”

“Save it,” he mumbled, looking away. “Wait here.” He released her completely and stalked to the front of the alley, peering out in the shadows. After a few moments, he returned and scooped her into his arms.

Quickly, he made his way to the shop next door and kicked the door in, maneuvering around furniture and display cases. He made his way to the back of the store, behind the counter and kicked that door in as well.

“Please! Don’t hurt me!” An elderly woman cowered in the corner of the storeroom, having heard the break-in. She must have returned to the store for inventory or perhaps she lived above it.

Hermione glanced up at Severus, worried.

“No need, Madam. I have no intention of doing so.” Severus gently deposited Hermione into a wooden chair. “This woman has been injured in the battle and needs use of your fireplace to get to St. Mungo’s hospital. I suggest you accompany her and wait a few hours before returning.”

His eyes darted quickly to Hermione’s, and she noted a hint of mirth in them as he turned and swept away, presumably putting his mask back in place as he exited the shop.

“Oh!” The old woman cried out, having looked back at Hermione. “Your hair!”

As she reached up and felt her regular bushy brown locks, she realized the Polyjuice potion had worn out just in time.

“Severus… you have not been forthright with me.”

Severus knelt before the Dark Lord, his head bowed. He could only hope he would survive this interrogation after what he had done.

The dark-haired, handsome man continued. “I have seen into the mind of your fellows tonight. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me.” It was not a question, nor was it as casual a remark as his silky-smooth tone made it sound.

“My Lord-”

“Who is Lily Evans to you?” Voldemort gave him no chance to answer and immediately dove into his mind.

Friend. Childhood friend. First one like me.

Magic. Wants to talk to me, learn what I know. My strangeness is fascinating to her. It is magic, not freakish.

My retreat. Mum and Dad screaming, fighting.

Lily’s house is large and quiet. Her parents let her roam. We go in the yard, in the fields. We play, we talk, we explore.

With her I can be free. I can be safe.

Severus did the only thing he could do in that moment. He was completely and utterly honest about who Lily Evans was to him. The study of occlumency had done enough to show him that the truth was the only thing that could hide any of the mind’s lies. The best possible thing to do was to show the Dark Lord the truth, even if it hid a different truth he could never know.

Friend.

A friend in a different house. She has muggle parents- not supposed to be friends, but Slytherins don’t like me anyway.

Friend.

My friend, not his friend.

My friend.

As Voldemort moved quickly through Severus’ younger years, he began to feel bits of shame, embarrassment reveal themselves. A desire to hide these memories from the Dark Lord. This only further enticed his seeking master to press on and harder. It only added to the authenticity of the memories.

Potter, Black. Not them, get away from her.

Wolf, leave her. Dangerous. My friend, not your friend.

My friend.

My lover.

Not yet. Could be.

Severus could not help tears of shame trickling down his face. He had been a teenage boy in the full swing of puberty. He was not so long from that time. Of course he had thought of Lily in that way, hoping for a relationship if she could get there. There were seedy, testosterone-fueled fantasies there if he wanted to look. Thankfully, though Voldemort looked, he spent little time on that. He pushed for more.

She hates you.

You called her mudblood.

She will never forgive you.

She is no friend.

Only too quickly, his rival snatched her away. The remaining thoughts of Lily were filled with heartache and burning anger. Murderous rage, if he could get away with murder. Every time he looked at her, he thought of his rejection, his own wrongdoing. Every time he looked at him, he was reminded that this pretty, rich boy who already had everything also had the one thing Severus ever wanted. The one person.

I hate him. He took her.

He should die.

These thoughts remained, even after this last year. These were current. Severus forced himself to think only of Lily and not the other reason he loathed James Potter. The main reason now. Her.

Kissing her. The way she looked at him. The way he cared for her.

They could not be.

Not together. Not now.

This last part was no lie.

This last memory was simply what the Dark Lord wished to end with- the encounter that had happened that night in Diagon Alley and Severus’ true feelings on the matter.

Voldemort watched as Severus kissed that same redhead that had been seen in all his previous memories.

Again, you can hide the truth best with the truth.

“I see,” Voldemort said silkily as he finally released Severus’ mind.

Severus gasped, holding himself on all fours, trying desperately to quell the piercing headache that made it difficult to even open his eyes.

“You desire her. You despise James Potter, and you want her for yourself.”

The Dark Lord twirled his wand casually in his hand, though his words were anything but. “The only question I have is why you did not entrust this information to your master. Is there a reason you did not wish to bring her before me?” His tone was cold and icy now.

Severus had passed the test of occlumency, but he could still die for this.

“My lord, I…” Severus paused, swallowing and squeezing his eyes shut out of pain. “I did not know that my brothers would leave her for me alone.”

This appeased Voldemort slightly. He relaxed a little. “And what about me, Severus? What about your lord?”

Severus hesitated, not only because of the migraine.

“Do not dare hide more from me,” the dark-haired angel hissed.

“Truthfully, my lord… I did not trust her to behave in your presence.”

At this, Voldemort laughed and tucked his wand away. “You were correct, Severus. A woman and a mudblood? Of course, she would not behave, not know our ways.” He made a tsking sound as if this was only a light scolding. “These kinds of women are good only for desires, you know this. They cannot be women for keeping.”

“Yes, My lord.”

“Well,” the Dark Lord sighed as if this was already boring him. “If my potions master pleases me enough following his training- for I do have many useful tasks for you- then I can grant you this woman.” He shrugged, as if a woman was a paltry gift to ask for.

“My lord is most gracious for this promise.” Severus gave a slight nod, though his head remained bowed low as he was still on all fours.

The Dark Lord said nothing, likely knowing his servant was not yet finished speaking.

“I would not,” Severus swallowed and licked his lips, desperate for moisture. He was parched beyond belief. “I would not my gift to come to harm in the meantime.”

“There can be no guarantees now,” the Dark Lord replied, slight harshness returning to his tone. “Especially for one who has been so secretive with his beloved master. Come.” He called to figures behind Severus, who he heard step forward.

“Milton, John,” He addressed Mulciber and Avery. “Thank you for being so forthcoming with your Lord. I do not want to kill our budding potions apprentice, but he should be reminded to follow your wonderful example.” Severus heard the Dark Lord’s robes sweep away. “I leave him to you.”

Everything went black after the first crucio.

“Annie!” Elpida rushed forward, angry look on her face. “There you are!”

Hermione lay on a stretcher in the receiving triage area of St. Mungo’s, still waiting to be seen by a healer. The curtain was pulled back in the meantime. “Ellie?” She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I set up an alert to notify the department if you’re ever admitted to hospital.”

“What happened to patient privacy?” Hermione grumbled.                                               

Ellie glared at her. “Honestly, you have very little. You’re being paid a pretty penny just to occasionally throw a bone towards our research. The least we can do is make sure you don’t end up injured or dead without us knowing.”

Hermione shrugged, easily accepting this explanation. “I still don’t know what I have. My ankle is either sprained or broken and I’ve had some abdominal cramping, which I don’t think is major spell damage, though it could be reactive pain from a ‘bombarda maxima’ or something like that.”

“Right, well. Sorry for the wait,” the blonde said brusquely, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“No, no, there’s worse injuries from the skirmish, I’m sure.” Hermione frowned, just realizing what Ellie was saying. “Wait, why are you sorry for the wait?”

“Yes, well,” Ellie did look slightly sheepish. “Your cases automatically get assigned to your healing contact… just in case something comes up that might compromise your… security.”

“So, I haven’t been waiting because there are more serious injuries, I’ve been waiting because Arabella is busy.” Hermione glared at her stony-faced.

A short while later, after a laughing, “fancy seeing you here” from her other flatmate, her healing exams were performed.

Arabella’s face had grown from confused to concerned as she cast the healing revelation spells, which she must have covered in initial training over the summer. Once finished, she hesitated, looking back and forth from Elpida to Hermione.

“Your ankle is just badly sprained,” she said in a falsely cheery tone. “I can have that fixed right away with a muscle-warming spell and a pain potion or two.”

Hermione waited, already having realized Arabella was avoiding telling her something.  

“I’m sorry, forgive me…” She cleared her throat. “You’re my first patient I’m going solo with, I’m still a junior healer for a few more months.”

The regularly-poised woman looked a bit frazzled. Hermione realized she had barely seen her at all since her Amoralato attack at Hogwarts and then the disturbance at graduation. Perhaps she was less poised after those things or the summer working as a healer during volatile times had changed her.

Arabella straightened and cleared her throat. “Any other symptoms you’ve noticed?”

“No, no I don’t think so.”

“Right. Well. The cramping may have come on due to a spell reaction in battle, but it’s just as possible that it’s a natural occurrence… It’s likely you’ll experience some bleeding if you haven’t already.”

Ellie turned a shade of puce and averted her eyes.

Hermione wrinkled her brow deeply, perhaps willing herself to be confused until it was explicitly stated for her.

“Tests have come back indicating the pregnancy was between 10 and 12 weeks along. I’m very sorry, Anna.” Arabella said gently. She reached her hand out and squeezed one of Hermione’s. “Just know that whatever you are feeling, whatever emotions you may feel in the coming days, all reactions are normal.”

Hermione lay back on the stretcher and said nothing. There were a rush of questions that could come to mind, perhaps should come to mind in her unique situation, however she simply felt… empty.

She probably should feel confused, insistent this was a mistake. She probably should feel sad. Emptiness was the best way to describe it. There was a sense of loss. But not sadness from it, just… hollow. Empty. Void.

Any reaction would be normal?

What about running to a Death Eater for comfort?

She wanted nothing more in that moment than to run to Severus and hold him. Not say anything, probably not even cry. Just hold and be held and try to fill the empty.

She found herself not caring what side he was on, not caring if it would get her in trouble now or in the future.

Just as she had been sure she had to leave him before, she was just as sure now that this was impossible. They were tied together, as he had said. They were bound. For better or for worse. Now it was just for worse and worse and worse, but they were still bound.

As if there were a tie, a string, knotted inside of her and connected to a similar knotted string inside of him.

She closed her eyes, reciting what she remembered from the book. “…I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”

Opening her eyes, she realized that Arabella and Elpida had quietly slipped away, redrawing the curtain around her as they left.

Chapter Text

Severus awoke in a strange bed. His entire body was throbbing and pounding. He had no idea how many times the cruciatus curse had been used on him, but he was sure it was as many times as Mulciber and Avery could get away with it.

He let out an involuntary groan as he shifted. Migraine was better, but not gone.

He heard a faint pop from across the room and about a minute later, the door squeaked open. “You’re awake.”

“Narcissa?” Severus whispered, squinting his eyes.

“Yes.” She drew close to the bed and looked down at him. “Lucius brought you here last night. The house elf tells me you’ve slept all day; it’s nearly supper time.”

“I- I need to get back.”

“You might as well eat and take some potions. Another night of rest will do you good and you can leave for France in the morning. I’ll have the elves bring your meal.”

Severus grunted in approval and lay back on the pillows again, closing his eyes.

“Severus?” Narcissa said hesitantly. She sounded closer, and he realized she must have conjured a chair to sit beside the bed. “Lucius was… that is…” She cleared her throat. “Lucius said that you had hidden something from the Dark Lord and had been punished for it.”

Severus did not react to this.

“Mulciber told him.” Still no reaction.

“He told Lucius you were in love with the Evans girl.”

Severus opened his eyes.

“Mulciber knows nothing about love,” Severus said simply.

“I only wondered… because of how well you were getting on with Miss Perri.” Narcissa said gently. Gently, but pointedly.

Severus had to be careful here. He trusted the Malfoys to an extent. He knew where he was on the totem pole. First them and theirs, second the Dark Lord. Severus was semi adopted, but he was still third ranked in their eyes, he believed.

“I have not lied to our master,” he said quietly. “He has seen my whole history in my mind. He is quite powerful, Lucius can tell you. It is impossible to lie to him.”

“Did Mulciber misunderstand?” As usual, she was far too perceptive. “Was it actually-”

“Narcissa,” Severus closed his eyes again, willing her to go away. “I have only ever loved women that I cannot have, for one reason or another. There is no misunderstanding that.”

He heard Narcissa rise and make her way to the door. “Miss Perri may come around yet,” he heard her say quietly.

Unlikely, he thought to himself.

Yet Severus, despite himself, was ever hopeful.

In his opinion, it was his greatest flaw.

Hermione had opted for the necessary procedures to be done in hospital so she could be released quickly and recover at home.

Her bedroom in the flat was plain and in need of décor, so she spent time doing that when she wanted to avoid thinking. She unpacked her bag fully- apart from the time turner- and tried to make the room a bit more of a homebase for herself.

Additionally, Hermione passed the time by doing an inventory. She made sure to record everything in the leatherbound journal and read back through her notes from her time just to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Hermione also found herself fidgeting a lot with her sapphire pendant and the charm bracelet Severus had given her. After enough fidgeting, she had to admit she wanted to talk to him.

After the first few days, she picked up quill and parchment to write to Severus, but she didn’t know where to start. IF she should start. She had to tell him something, right? Didn’t he deserve to know?

The best she had gotten after nearly a week was a letter that said simply, “I miss you. I need you.”

Yet sending that seemed just as stupid as sending nothing.

Arabella kept an appropriate distance but made herself available when she wasn’t working in case Hermione needed company. Elpida, on the other hand, hovered. She made all Hermione’s meals and brought snacks and tea to her room before she asked.

Hermione finally snapped at her when she exited the room and caught Ellie jumping up from the couch and coming over to her.

“I’m not an invalid,” she glared.

“Oh, okay.” The taller girl appeared cowed by this. “Are you ready to give a report then?”

“A report.” The deadpan tone was quite reminiscent of Snape.

“I’m sorry, Anna, but…” Ellie cleared her throat and stood straighter. “It’s important to discuss in our study of time. Think about other women. We need to know the risks women take undergoing time travel and use of a time turner. What if this… what if this was due to the time travel? We’d have to make sure women were screened ahead of time for pregnancy or if fertility is affected. This could impact future research and future travel for years to come.”

Hermione cringed.

The logical side of her, the research side, heartily agreed with Ellie. It was important to know. However, the emotional side… this was too personal. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She wanted to get over it. She was an emotional person, and she’d spent enough time crying in the last few days. Another reason not to talk to Severus and drag the whole thing out again.

Besides, how can you mourn a child you didn’t even know you had? You can’t really. So, after the initial crying, she was done. She wanted to avoid thinking about it.

“I have conditions,” Hermione said stiffly.

“Of course.”

“We do this here, not at the Ministry. Sterling doesn’t know.”

Ellie made a face. “We can do it here, but he’s going to know there’s a reason for future precautions women need to take-”

“Then he can put two and two together,” Hermione said tersely. “He doesn’t need to know about… this.”

“Okay. Okay, I think I can do that.”

“Take notes then,” Hermione said, moving to the kitchen table to sit. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Oh,” Ellie’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Right.”

Hermione sat stiffly and inhaled. It took a few moments for Elpida to retrieve some quills, ink, and parchment and settle back at the table to take notes. By then, Hermione had steeled herself in preparation.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you know the date of conception?” Elpida asked.

“I believe… the beginning to the middle of April.” It had to be the one time they had not used protection, of course. The first time.

Ellie frowned but continued looking down at the parchment and writing.

“I believe, accounting for time traveling, that would still line up with ten to twelve weeks of gestation.” Hermione said evenly. She was trying to approach this in as clinical a manner as possible. She’d been able to keep detached enough thus far to avoid… anything too traumatic.

“Er… let’s see…”

“Four weeks puts us into mid-May, another two weeks or so to June. Then it was about a week before I jumped forward and another week for you to study me and make sure I had no ill-effects.”

“Didn’t think about pregnancy,” Ellie muttered, still writing.

“Then, jumping forward three months and giving it another week and a half or so-”

“Yes, that’s about ten.”

“And if it was early April, then twelve weeks.”

“Is pregnancy a current risk?”

“No,” Hermione said firmly. Ellie looked up at her skeptically. Hermione flushed. “Even if it were or could be, I’ll be taking the potion from now on.”

Ellie nodded and looked down, taking more notes. She was also trying to remain detached. If it was merely a conversation between friends, she probably would have scolded her.

“And… any prior symptoms of pregnancy or… warning signs?”

“No,” Hermione said quietly. “Not that I know of.” She’d been disconnected, a bit apathetic since graduation and cutting ties with Severus. That wasn’t a symptom of pregnancy, was it? “I hadn’t had a monthly cycle since I travelled back the first time.”

Elpida kept writing. “Do you have any other comments or insights as to… your recent traveling experiences? Any ideas as to why this may have happened?”

“No,” Hermione said. “Although it may simply be hereditary,” she said, thinking out loud.

“Oh?” Ellie looked up again.

“My mother had trouble conceiving,” Hermione said quietly. “I’m an only child, not by their choice.”

Ellie looked down and continued her notes. After a few moments of silence, she said. “I think that’s probably enough for now.”

Despite herself, Hermione said, “really? It shouldn’t be.” At Ellie’s confused look, she said, “You probably need to run some more tests to be sure it had nothing to do with time traveling. Is there something Arabella can do?”

“Testing was inconclusive,” Elpida muttered as she returned to notetaking. “We didn’t learn anything else from-”

Hermione stood up quickly, slamming her chair back from the table.

Before she knew it, her wand was drawn and pointed at the other woman and she was shaking with fury.

“From,” she hissed. “From…. What? You didn’t run any other tests on me.”

The woman across from her was still frozen, quill held above the parchment and looking down.

Hermione repeated herself. “You didn’t run any more tests on me.”

Elpida now realized her slip-up and looked up slowly, her face white. “You… you signed all the paperwork at Mungo’s. I didn’t think you… I thought it was okay.”

“Just because I didn’t want to look at the remains didn’t mean you could TEST THEM!” Hermione shrieked. “That you could take them back to the lab and- and-” Her mind involuntarily went to the worst possible images of grotesque science experiments.

Ellie stood slowly, arms raised in surrender. “It was only some magical scans, similar to healing ones. Nothing more. I didn’t do anything to him…” She came closer to Hermione, walking slowly. “I buried him after. I can show you where.”

Hermione found herself collapsing into Ellie’s arms and sobbing now.

Him.

So much for remaining detached.

Severus had been able to rest the next night and return to France in the morning as expected. The only acknowledgement de Grasse gave on seeing him was a slight jump and turn as the potions shop bell rang with the opening door, followed by a light grunt and a nod toward a cauldron that was nearly at a boil.

Ten days after his return, Severus walked to Sainte-Verene for his weekly food shop for the two of them. Upon leaving the grocer with a small basket of food, he heard some yelling from the building across the way.

“Come, Monsieur! Come!” He frowned as he looked at the woman calling to him across the cobblestone street. Not to judge by appearances… but based on her flirtatious manner and her outfit, this was one of Madame Genevieve’s whores.

He gave her a slight head shake, indicating his disinterest, but she waved him over even more enthusiastically. It was before ten o’clock, an unusual time to seek out Johns on the street. His curiosity piqued, he walked over slowly.

“Ah, Monsieur, you will come zee me tonight, no?” Her hair was blonde and curly, but when Severus kept his stoic scowl on his face, she pointed her wand at her face and glamoured herself. Her nose became thinner and more elegant and her hair changed to a dark auburn with a slight wave. “Zere. Better? Ton ami-”

Severus snarled at her and raised his wand. “If you mean Monsieur de Grasse, I have already told him I do not want your services.”

“Non! Your friend who was with me last night zaid you like ze red hair.” She gave him a coy smile and puffed her chest towards him, emphasizing her cleavage.

“My… friend. Did he leave his name?”

“Ah, non. But ee is Eengleesh like you. Ee as already paid Madame for you tonight!”

Severus put his wand away. “Did he have blond hair?”

She shook her head and giggled. Her mannerisms further repulsed Severus but he tried not to show it. “Il est brun.”

Shite. He was sure Lucius wouldn’t have glamoured his features if it was truly meant to be a friendly gesture. This was Mulciber or Avery pulling a mean prank. Or perhaps they had very loose lips and it could be another Death Eater. Or, worst case of all, it could be someone sent on the Dark Lord’s orders to help him get over Lily Evans.

Which meant he was being watched.

“Is he still here?” At another head shake from the woman, Severus said, “I will not come, but keep the money for tonight. If my friend returns, tell him I… availed myself of your services and I plan to continue doing so.”

She pouted at this, clearly upset at missing out on a regular client, and he lowered his voice, taking a deep, smooth and persuasive tone. “In exchange for your discretion, I can provide you with one potion a week. Perhaps something to heal bruises or diseases? Something for pain or heightened stamina?”

This quickly got the woman’s attention and agreement. They agreed she would come to the shop once a week for a free potion from him and she would update him if any more of his English friends came to Sainte-Verene inquiring after him.

On arrival back at the potions shop in Berry, Severus put away the food and began to prepare his station for the day. De Grasse was nowhere in sight, but having known Severus was out shopping he was probably smoking his pipe around the back of the house.

“What now.” Severus grunted, hearing the rapping on the window. He expected to see a customer, but it was a barn owl, frantically tapping its claw against the glass.

The owl flew in wildly once let in, refusing to leave until a response was sent. Frowning, Severus took the small piece of parchment from it and opened it to read.

I need to see you.

-H

Severus kept his frown. He was potentially being watched; he had just confirmed this. Plus, he had already been away for a weekend, so it would be at least a month if not more before he could get away again.

The bustling owl hooted impatiently, making it clear he had to make his decision now.

He was inclined to say no, not now. It wasn’t safe. Also, he had been resentful since he’d seen her at the battle. She needed him. She needed saving yet again, but she didn’t need a relationship, even a secret one.

He hastily scribbled a reply and sent it back with the owl.

The rest of the day, his mind would not stop wondering what could be so urgent.

“What do you mean, he’s not coming?!”

Hermione kicked herself for saying anything to Elpida.

She had needed Ellie’s help with getting Severus quickly in and out of the country and hiding all the customs and portkey paperwork in case anyone got suspicious if they saw his name on the logs. Unspeakables were allowed to cover up quite a bit if it was for work-related reasons (this situation was debatable, but Hermione argued that the whole medical record was potentially work-related, as well as the disclosures to Severus).

“He… says he can’t.”

“And you like this bastard?”

“That’s not fair.”

“You told him what happened and he said he wasn’t coming?” At this, Hermione made a face.

“Annie! You didn’t tell him!”

“You can’t really say that in a letter. Besides, he confirmed he thinks he’s being watched. I mean, reading between the lines, that what he says.”

Elpida grabbed the parchment out of her friend’s hand, only to yelp as it burst into flames.

“Smart,” Hermione mumbled. “Only I can read it.”

“Okay, he’s being watched. So?” Elpida shook her hand and dusted the ashes out. “Let him stay in France and you go to him.” Elpida crossed her arms, her short blonde hair swinging out from behind her ears. “I’ve already set up private Department-issued portkeys, we’ll just change the travel to be the other way round. You use Polyjuice or glamouring or whatever. Take some money and say you need to buy potions. See if you can get him away from the Potions Master for a few minutes to talk to him.”

It was so obvious; Hermione didn’t know why she didn’t suggest that in the first place. Or just show up in France without asking. Wanting to avoid talking about it, probably.

Despite desperately wanting to share this news with Severus, she wasn’t keen on telling him. If he underreacted, she’d be hurt and furious. If he was similarly devastated, she’d have hurt him when she could have just stayed quiet.

“Alright,” Hermione said softly. “I’ll need a cover story. Nothing to do with Severus. It’s a small town and I’ll need a reason to be there.”

“How’s your French?”

A completely different prostitute entered the shop in Berry a few days later. She was an older woman, perhaps even the Madame. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t accept the potion for payment, but insisted he come to the brothel and diagnose which potion was needed for one of the women.

Even more annoyingly, de Grasse eagerly insisted that this could be good practice for a Potions Master and to “take as much time as he needed”. His opinions on Severus using the brothel for personal release had clearly not changed.

On arrival, the older woman shoved him into a room and quickly shut the door behind him, offering no explanation or instruction.

The room was sparsely furnished and appeared to be very unenticing. In fact, if he had to guess, it looked more like the personal bedroom of a lady at the brothel rather than an opulent, sensually decorated room used to entertain clientele. No wall hangings, no color, nothing but plain sheets, pillows, and a blanket. It was a personal bedroom that appeared to be unused and in transition, awaiting a new woman to start work there. Perhaps the room was even newly conjured.

The door opened and shut again. Turning, Severus saw a short, thin young woman with dark hair down to her waist. She appeared to be wearing some sort of school uniform, perhaps Beauxbatons.

She put her finger to her lips, whipped out her wand, and began casting a series of silencing and warding spells around the room.

Finally, she turned around and faced him. When she met his eyes then, he recognized her, despite her appearance.

His heart soared in elation, but he clenched his fists anyway and grimaced.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

The disguise slowly melted away and Hermione stood before him, wide-eyed and red-faced. “Severus,” she whispered.

Her voice wavered as she spoke and his hands relaxed.

She continued speaking, at first slowly, then all at once a flood of overexcited and panicky gestures accompanied her frantic speech and breathing.

Once she had gotten everything out, she flew into his arms and began sniffling into his chest.

It had already been inevitable he would forgive her everything, but now especially so.

They were bound in every way.

The mother of his child.

The beginning of a family.

Family.

“My love,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “My love.”

“I’m sorry, I guess it wasn’t urgent, I just-”

“No,” he corrected her gently. “Thank you for telling me.”

They stood that way for quite a while, her head pressed against his chest and him staring at the wall in thought, lightly stroking her wild locks.

“Hermione.” Severus placed his fingers under her chin, extracting her from his robes and lifted her head up to finally meet his eyes again.

“Yes?”

He swallowed hoarsely and she felt the grip on her chin tighten ever so slightly. “You should go.”

Hermione’s face fell. Her eyes pleaded with him. “But- why?”

“Why? Why? Dammit Hermione, don’t torture me. I haven’t seen you in months and you’ve made it clear where we stand. And now we’re- We’re in a magical brothel!”

As if the room were listening, its nondescript décor quickly morphed into a dimly lit room adorned with sumptuous and fragrant silks, pillows, and bedding atop a bed that spanned half of the floor.

To Severus’ shock, Hermione didn’t skip a beat and dragged him over to the decadent arrangements.

She flopped backwards onto the bed, pulling him with her. Her face was still red from crying, but she seemed relaxed and at ease. Her eyes shone as she looked up at him, her visage relaxed with the catharsis of revealing the miscarriage to him, as well as the healing effects of being near him again.

“You were right,” she whispered, stroking his face and gazing up at him. He stared at her stunned, mouth slightly open in puzzlement. “I keep trying to think about the entire situation logically, like I’ve always done. It makes no sense for us to be together, even be associated. I suppose it doesn’t have to make sense, it just… is. We are. I can’t escape it, I can’t logic it away. Perhaps it shouldn’t be happening when our goals are opposed, but it is happening. I can’t fight it and I don’t want to anymore.”

Severus’ eyes darkened and she swallowed, looking away and laughing nervously. “Like you’ve said, we’re bound and it can’t be undone, and frankly I wouldn’t want it to be undone despite how maddening it is and-”

Severus silenced her rambling with a deep kiss.

To Monsieur de Grasse’s credit, he did take the entire afternoon and evening off to spend at the brothel.

For his birthday in January, they met at a Muggle hotel in London. It was his birthday, they didn’t have much time, so there was little talking done.

He had appeared somewhat withdrawn after their vigorous reunion. Satisfied physically, perhaps, but there was something lacking. He held her tightly until they finally admitted to themselves that they had to get dressed and return to normality.

“No more secrets,” he had said to her in France a few months prior. “I know you’re a muggleborn now. Tell me the rest.”

She sadly shook her head. “You know I can’t. Your master has his ways of finding out… It’s not just my own life I’m worried about.”

So he allowed himself to quietly accept what little of her he could have. It was what he had insisted on before- getting whatever he could take. For now, he would work diligently to finish his apprenticeship, gain favor with the Dark Lord, and earn his way into creating this new society. Then she would be at his side forever. Severus would make sure of that.

Despite himself, he was logical enough to understand his upbringing had much to do with his anger and need for rebellion. A broken home where there is no safety or control surely caused him to fight for his own safety, his own control. Yet this was not the case for the other Death Eaters. They already had power and authority, magical bloodlines spanning back generations and lofty ministry connections and positions. Perhaps dysfunctional home lives, but not nearly in the same way as his.

His compatriots did not follow the cause for the reasons he did. It hardly seemed like a revolt at all for most of them. True, they would complain of the pro-Muggle and anti-Magical political camps taking over the government, but these families had the financial means to lobby for change or to affect it legally. There was another pull for them… something more sadistic.

The Dark Lord was more like him, a half-blood. He understood what it was like to be separate.

Though he was handsome, powerful, well-connected. Couldn’t he also affect change in another way? A more peaceful one?

Severus would roll his eyes, glower to himself over the cauldron and try to chase these nagging thoughts away when they came. His reasoning was being affected by Hermione’s constant pleadings for non-violence and going about things by the rule of law, he was sure of it.

He would not acknowledge the taste in his mouth that would show up when he was called back to London to meet his fellow rebels. Rosier and Malfoy he could relate to. Even Cohen, though he had to keep his distance for now as she was with Karkaroff, whom he still despised. The rest of them… Wilkes, Avery, Mulciber, Dolohov, Bellatrix… they made him question the side he was on.

Hermione was the one who suggested Muggle venues. They couldn’t meet in Sainte-Verene every time, in case he was truly being watched. Besides, Hermione couldn’t let reuniting with Severus distract her as it had before.

Her mission was still to protect Lily, and James by association. Apparently, her aid to the graduating aurors in Diagon Alley had not gone unnoticed by the two. Sirius and Marlene had done a decent job in reporting what help she had been and James liked that someone had been disguised as Lily so that she had extra cover.

It had been a last-minute decision of Lily’s to participate in auror training. She had initially wanted a Ministry job in affecting policy, hopefully to make progress as a Muggleborn in political office. However, as Arabella explained it to Hermione, the attack on Hogwarts at graduation changed her plans. Lily’s marks and Head girl status meant she could move up the ranks quickly if she chose to and the Ministry was hardly in a position to turn down aurors now.

Arabella was Hermione’s eyes and ears into the Marauder’s group. She had always been close to Sirius (Hermione never asked if they were dating, but they were always…close) and Hermione could hear the gossip from her without being present at much of their gatherings. This allowed another way for Hermione to keep an eye on Lily and James without revealing herself too often in the timeline. Hermione was in favor with the group for now, but she couldn’t appear too often without a risk of being remembered or recorded.

The further the years progressed, and the more people Hermione interacted with, the more people might remember her. She knew this and she kept much to herself. The Department of Mysteries with Cyd and Elpida to give reports, the apartment and Arabella, and the occasional meet up with Severus every six to eight weeks or so. She wasn’t bored the rest of the time, as there wasn’t actually much more time. She was travelling. Usually just a few weeks before having a meeting at the Department of Mysteries and “throwing them a bone” for their research.

Of course, there was a failsafe arranged with Ellie. She would travel forward with the timeturner in her room at the apartment and if something had happened, there would be a note for her on her bedroom door.

In May of 1979, there was a note. It read,

Return to April 3 of this year.